His body ached. After a moon in that bloody saddle Robert was not surprised. He wanted nothing more than to get to whatever room Ned had set aside for him and sleep. But there was another more pressing desire. That desire was to see her. She may be stone and lifeless, but it was the closest he would get to seeing her now. Ever since that whoreson Rhaegar had taken her from him.
Robert had barked a command and Ned had obeyed. Robert had seen how Cersei had frowned. How she had wanted to say something, but thankfully, experience had taught her to remain silent. No doubt she'd be whining to the Kingslayer about this. But Robert had long since stopped caring. He did not fear the Kingslayer. Indeed, as he looked down at his protruding stomach, Robert felt confident that even in this state he could still deal with the Kingslayer.
Hells, he had before they'd departed for the north. Before Jon had died. He and the Kingslayer had gotten drunk, and the man had swung at him, Robert had grabbed the sword off the Kingslayer and thrown it away, then punched the daylights out of the man. The Kingslayer had woken up the next day and they'd shared a laugh about it.
"We're here, Your Grace." Ned said, breaking into his thoughts.
Robert blinked; the darkness of the crypts was balanced out by the light of the torch that Ned had lit. There were three statues, three faces, staring back at them. The first, the one on the right, was Lord Rickard. As in life, the statue showed the man's harsh face, his cold bearing. It did not show the laughter that Robert could remember from Harrenhal, or the sincerity that had been there when Robert had made his suite for Lyanna's hand.
Then to the far right, was Brandon. Lord Rickard's eldest son, and his heir. The stone mason had captured Brandon's arrogance and his surety. The knowledge that he would never be wrong. That was a view he'd taken both when he'd taken Ashara Dayne's Maidenhead at Harrenhal, when he'd fought Baelish and then when he'd come back to meet Ashara. Robert knew about that last even if Ned didn't.
It was an honour that Brandon had trusted him with that. That secret, and the knowledge of it. It was why he had allowed Ned to tell him the lie about his bastard. It was why he said nothing, even though the bastard looked like Brandon. At least from a distance. Brandon had made him swear, and so Robert had sworn, and he kept to it.
Then there was the third and final statue in the middle. Between her father and brother. The woman they'd both died for. The woman Robert had gone to war for. Lyanna Stark. Her beautiful face, and her haunting eyes were not captured in the statue. Nor was her smile, and the way her eyes would laugh. He still remembered her laugh, the way it had made her whole face light up. The cheekiness and the glint and all of it.
"Ach, tis' painful to be here, to see her and to know that we never got the chance to experience wedded life." Robert said.
Ned said nothing. Robert had not expected him to, instead, he used this opportunity to give voice to thoughts that had been echoing in his mind for a decade and a half.
"We should have been husband and wife. We would have been happy. If not for that whoreson Rhaegar. We'd have ruled the Stormlands and been happy." Robert looked at Ned then and saw that his friend was looking at the statue as well.
"You and I would've been brothers in blood as well as name. Our children could have grown up together."
"Aye." Ned said.
Robert looked back at the statue. "Sometimes at night I wonder if there was more, I could have done, before…" before she had disappeared from Harrenhal. He had barely spoken to her by letter or otherwise after the tourney. He had been so furious when that whoreson had crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty. But Lya... she had come to him afterward and told him that it meant nothing that she wanted nothing to do with Rhaegar. But she had also explained that he had done it because of something she had done to protect Howland Reed.
He had not been angry after that. He had understood somewhat, and then word had come…
"Why did Rhaegar take her? That's what I've always wanted to know. He had a wife, and a son and a daughter. If he wanted a spare, he could have married anyone. Hells, my own bloody wife would've married him." Robert said. Cersei had admitted as much during one of their many arguments, back when their marriage had been in its early days, and they'd been trying to make it work. Back before they'd both taken comfort in other people's arms.
"I do not know." Ned replied softly.
"Bloody mad man, just like his father and his entire fucking family." Robert said simply.
Ned said nothing.
Robert turned away from the statue and looked at his friend then, he was happy to see that Ned was looking at him as well.
"You know I was angry with you for such a long time, Ned." Robert said, the words he'd wanted to say for so long now coming out in a frenzy.
"Your Grace?" Ned replied sounding confused.
"We were supposed to rule together. You and me and Jon. We were supposed to bring this fucking Kingdom into a new era. Instead after the war you fucked off back north and didn't come south again until fucking Balon Greyjoy rebelled." Robert snapped.
"I did not feel as if I belonged in the south. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Ned said.
"You could've kept Benjen from taking the black." Robert pointed out.
Something flickered in Ned's face then. Was that anger he saw? Or was it something else? He wasn't sure but when Ned answered, his voice was soft but firm. "The Night's Watch is an honourable calling."
Robert snorted but decided against pursuing that line of thinking. Instead, he said. "Well, you will take your rightful place at my side, Ned. You will be Hand of the King."
Ned looked shocked. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. The man quickly regained his composure and knelt. "I am honoured, Your Grace and promise to serve faithfully and sincerely."
"Good, now get up." Robert commanded. His friend got up.
"The first thing I want you to do when we get back to King's Landing is figure out how Jon died." Robert ordered. From the way his friend's expression shifted, he got that Ned had had his own suspicions. Something that was confirmed when Ned asked.
"You think there was something wrong there, Your Grace?"
"I do." Robert said. "Jon was as old as that goat in the Twins, but he was healthy as well. A healthy man doesn't just keel over and die one day." Robert could remember the whole thing well. One moment Jon had been berating him for spending money that the crown didn't have. The next he had been dying.
"Where do you think I should look first, Sire?" Ned asked.
Robert huffed; he would not give his friend all of the tools. Let him figure some of it out himself. "Wherever you think best." Before his friend could press the matter, he changed the topic.
"Now, I did not just come to ask you to be my hand. I also came to suggest something else."
"Your Grace?" Ned replied.
"I wish to strengthen the bond between our families. We shall be united in blood as we would have been had Lya and I married." Robert said.
"Your daughter and my son are of an age; they shall be betrothed, and the girl shall accompany us south."
"I…" Ned stammered.
Robert continued. "And your eldest son and my daughter Myrcella are of an age. They shall be married before we leave for King's Landing."
Robert saw his friend's mouth open in shock once more. He grinned. "Well? Are you going to answer or are you going to keep gaping at me like a fish?"
Ned stared at him then took a deep breath. "I…I am…I am honoured by this favour, Your Grace."
Robert felt his grin widen and he pulled Ned into a crushing embrace. "Our families were meant to be united, Ned. This time they will be."