"Father agreed to this?" Stannon asked, voice tinged with uncertainty as he couldn't believe that a proud person like Robert would resort to doing this. Maybe having a son from the only woman he ever loved did changed him a bit.
Ser Barristan nodded. "Your father, along with your mother, is preparing everything for the decoy. You'll be traveling with a select group of knights, leaded by me, strong enough to ensure your safe passage."
Stannon exchanged a glance with Jory, whose face betrayed little emotion, though Stannon could feel the tension in his stance.
"Very well," Stannon said quietly, as he had little choice here. "Let's go."
As they moved down the corridor to the royal chambers, Stannon felt his heart beating a little faster, as he understood that the few days ahead would be filled with danger, until he reached the Winterfell.
He had always known that the life as a Baratheon prince would be filled with danger, but he had never truly felt the weight of it until now as he was about to leave the safety of the caste, in the dark night.
When they arrived at the grand chamber, Robert and Cersei were waiting near the fireplace.
Robert, in his usual boisterous manner, stood with a large goblet of wine in his hand, though his face seemed more somber than usual. Cersei, however, sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap, her eyes filled to bring with fake concern.
"Stannon," Robert greeted him with a broad smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Stannon bowed slightly, feeling the seriousness of the situation.
Cersei raised her head slightly, her sharp eyes on him. "You'll be leaving tonight, I presume?"
Stannon straightened. "Yes, Mother. I understand the need for discretion."
Cersei's lips widened into a thin smile which then quickly wore off. "It's for the best, I suppose. The situation is... unpredictable at the moment."
Robert let out a deep, almost comical laugh, though it seemed like he was trying too hard to not let the tension affect his dear little boy. "Aye, unpredictable is one way to put it. But you'll do well, boy. Strong as the stag himself, I'm sure of it."
"I will do my best, Father," Stannon replied, almost robotically. Despite the outward bravado, the weight of the moment rested heavily upon him. His father's confidence was reassuring, but Cersei's presence left him uneasy.
Stannon stealthily looked at Cersei, wondering if she was cooking something in secret. He wondered why Robert even told her about his departure. Did he really begin trusting Cersei after the act she put up for seven years? Stannon couldn't tell.
As he was busy in his thoughts, Cersei rose from her seat and approached him, her movements slow and deliberate. She placed a hand on his shoulder, slightly squeezing it. Then, with a swift motion, she kissed him on his forehead with her wet lips.
Though the gesture felt forced to Stannon, like an attempt to appear motherly.
"Take care, my son," Cersei said softly, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
Stannon nodded, unsure how to respond to the kiss. Well, what he really wanted to say was 'F*ck you bit*h' but was forced to say, "I'll be careful, Mother."
The previous Stannon had always called Cersei, mother in private as she really was a mother figure in his life or atleast acted like one. Stannon didn't want to arouse any suspicions so he too did the same.
Robert, looking at the heartfelt moment, spoke, "Don't worry, lad. You'll be safe with the best of the Kingsguard. They'll see you through whatever lies ahead."
With that, Robert ruffled Stannon's hair and spoke, "Go, lad, and make your family proud."
But Stannon didn't move as he had to say something to Robert before he left.
He looked at his father from head to toe. The king's tall, powerful frame towered over the room, a reminder of the warrior who had once crushed Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident. This Robert wasn't the overly fat, defeated man Stannon had seen in the first season of Game of Thrones.
He still looked every bit the warrior king, his broad shoulders and strong build demonstrating power, though there was a weariness in his eyes that hinted at the battles he had fought—maybe not just on the field but on the beds in Whitehouse too.
"Father," he finally spoke. "Could I speak with you alone?"
Robert stepped closer to his son. "What is it, boy? What's on your mind?"
Stannon looked at the others in the room. Robert followed his gaze and waved a hand. "Out, all of you. Leave us."
Cersei, who had been watching silently, gave Stannon a curious look before walking out without a word. The knights stationed by the door left as well, closing the heavy doors behind them.
With the room empty, Robert turned back to his son, crossing his arms. "Alright, lad. Out with it. What's on your mind?"
Stannon hesitated, fidgeting with his hands. "I… I just wanted to say thank you, Father. For… everything."
Robert's brows knitted together. "Thank me? What for? You're my son. What kind of father wouldn't take care of his own?"
Stannon glanced down, suddenly 'shy'. "Not every father would. And not every king, either. You've done a lot for the realm. For me. For Mother."
Robert snorted, though a small smile appeared on his face. "Hmph. You're starting to sound like a bard, boy. What are you really trying to say?"
Stannon hesitated a bit, staring up at his father with uncertainty in his eyes, before he finally let it out. "It's just… I've been watching you. You carry so much. It's like a big weight on your shoulders. And… and I think you shouldn't let it crush you."
Robert blinked, his expression softening in surprise. He let out a loud laugh. "And here I thought you'd ask for a pony. You're worried about me, eh?"
"Yes," Stannon said earnestly. "I don't want you to lose the fire that made you king. Everyone says how strong you are—how brave. And you are, Father. But sometimes…" He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like you're sad."
Robert's smile faded, and he turned away, staring into the fire. "Sad, huh? You think I'm sad?"
Stannon stepped closer, his small hand reaching out to tug at the sleeve of his father's tunic.
'Man, I should win a medal for the brilliant acting as a cute kid,' Stannon couldn't help but think. But he shook off those thoughts and focused on their conversation.
"Not always. But when you drink too much wine, or when you stare off like you're somewhere else… it makes me worry. I don't like seeing you like that."
Robert sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He crouched down so he was at eye level with Stannon. "Listen here, lad. Being king, it's not all feasts and battles. Sometimes it's bloody hard. But it's my duty, and I won't let it beat me. You hear me?"
'Tell me one time when you gave a f*ck about your so called duties,' Stannon almost wanted to say it out loud, but he didn't.
"I know you won't," Stannon said quickly. "You're the strongest man I know, Father. But maybe… maybe you don't always have to carry everything alone."
Robert stared at him, his blue eyes sharp but thoughtful. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.
"You've got guts, boy," Robert said finally, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Telling your old man how to live. Takes courage to speak like that."
Stannon smiled hesitantly. "I just… I want you to be happy and live a long healthy life, Father. Not just for the crown or the realm. For us. For me."
Robert chuckled, shaking his head as he ruffled Stannon's hair. "Boy, sometimes I wonder if you're really just seven years old. You speak like a man grown."
Stannon smiled, but his heart nearly skipped a beat at Robert was on point. "I'm just saying what I feel, Father."
"Aye, and you've got a tongue sharper than a knight's sword," Robert said with a grin. "Fine. I'll think on it. But don't go getting ideas about lecturing me every day, eh?"
"Of course not, Father," Stannon said, grinning despite himself.
Robert reached for his goblet of wine but paused. With a grunt, he grabbed the pitcher of water instead, pouring himself a cup. He shot Stannon a look, half serious, half amused. "Don't expect this every night."
"I won't," Stannon said, his smile widening even more.
He turned to leave after talking for some time with Robert.
He felt a bit tired as he had put his all in the conversation with Robert. He wondered whether he had said enough or if it was too much. But he hoped that as a child whose birth was considered to be auspicious and a blessing from the Gods, Robert wouldn't find his thoughts too out of the line.
Would Robert take his words to heart? Only time would tell.
As Stannon stepped into the hallway, Ser Barristan and Jory awaited him, and bowed their heads upon his arrival.
"Ready, your grace?" Barristan asked.
"As I can be," Stannon said with a nod. "Let's go."
As they walked through the Red Keep, Stannon's thoughts churned. He had no way of knowing if his words would make a difference. Perhaps Robert would still slip into the drinking, eating and fu*king that had doomed him in the show. Or perhaps this conversation would spark a change, a rekindling of the fire that had made Robert Baratheon a legend.
Either way, Stannon knew he had done what he could. He straightened his shoulders, pushing aside his doubts. Whatever the future held, he would face it head-on.
With one last glance at the Red Keep's towering structure, he stepped further as the gates closed behind him.
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