Daveth Baratheon is the eldest son of King Robert I Baratheon and Queen Cersei Lannister, the only one of four children she bore her lawful husband.
A natural-born prodigy, his intellect and swordsmanship skills are among one of the best despite hi...
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Whilst on the journey south back to King's Landing, the group stopped for a quick rest in the Barrowlands along the kingsroad. King Robert had been galloping ahead, driving his huge black steed hard as Eddard Stark galloped alongside him trying to keep up. They soon took off across rolling plains. By then the guard had fallen back a small distance, safely out of earshot, but still Robert refused to slow down.
Overviewing a plain open meadow, Robert had already set up a mini table full of wine and food. The King took a moment to relieve himself against a tree, crested at a low ridge before pulling up his pants and making his way towards the table.
"Gods," he swore, laughing as he sat down, "this is country! I've half a mind to leave them all behind and keep going. I swear, Ned, this creeping along is enough to drive a man mad."
Eddard smiled. "I've half a mind to go with you."
King Robert was never a patient man. "That damned 'carriage', my son's insistence that I 'maintain a steady pace so the rest of our family can keep up'..." he complained, "I swear if have to listen to it creaking, groaning one more time... Seven hells! If that wretched thing so much as breaks another axle, I'm going to chop it to little pieces, burn it down and Cersei can walk the rest of the way!" As soon as Robert finished venting, he leaned in towards Eddard. "What do you say, Ned? Just you and me on the kingsroad, swords at our sides, a couple of tavern wenches to warm our beds tonight?"
"You should have asked me that 20 years ago. We have responsibilities now, Robert... to the realm, our children. I to my lady wife and you to your Queen. We are not boys anymore."
"There were wars to fight, women to marry... More's the pity. Never had the chance to be young."
"I recall a few chances," Eddard says, scratching his beard slightly.
Robert let out a wheezing laugh. "There was that one... Oh, what was her name?" he thinks. "That common girl of yours? Becca? With the great big tits you could bury your face in."
"Bessie. She was one of yours."
"Bessie! Thank the gods for Bessie and her tits. Yours was... uh, Aleena? No. You told me once. Err... Meryl? Your bastard's mother?"
"Wylla," Eddard replied with cool courtesy.
"That's it," Robert exclaimed, extending his finger in acknowledgment. "She must have been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor. You never told me what she looked like."
Eddard was not amused and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, his mouth tightening in slight annoyance. "Nor will I. Just leave it be, Robert, for the love you say you bear me. I dishonored myself that day and I dishonored my wife, the sight of gods and men."
