Ours is the fury indeed. Robarra Baratheon had not forgiven her husband for his ridiculous display at Harrenhal, particularly not when she realised she was pregnant once more. Obviously the child had been conceived before the fiasco with the crown of winter roses, for she had not let him touch her since. As if the stupid fool deserves any more heirs.

"Could you have picked a worse girl to prey on?" She yelled at him once they were in the Red Keep.

She thought she had exercised great restraint in not tearing into him the very night it happened, in front of everyone. She had not exchanged more than two words with her husband since the incident, however, spending as little time near him as possible and not even speaking to him on the journey whilst laughing and joking with everyone else as normal. 

They may be in their own private bedchambers now, but anyone standing outside - or even on this floor of Maegor's Holdfast - would certainly be able to hear. Good.

"High lords don't like their daughters being disgraced in front of half the kingdom, Rhaegar. Not to mention Lyanna is my brother's betrothed, and the sister of my closest friend. You shamed both the Starks and the Baratheons when you give her that blasted crown, and House Targaryen too!"

"I meant no harm by the gesture," His voice was as even and calm as it always was, which riled her temper even more.

"Well you caused harm," She snarled. "Is your head so far up your own arse that you can't see that? Now there will forever be rumours following that poor girl that you deflowered her at Harrenhal. I care not a jot if you're bored with me and fuck some whore or serving wench - so long as I don't have to hear about it - but I tell you now, if I find that you shaming me in the company of any highborn lady, Seven help you," 

Still, his face showed no flicker of... of anything. She would almost rather he struck her. 

"I understand why you are angry, Robarra," His tone remained the same. "And I apologise if I caused you any upset - "

"Upset? Upset? I am not weeping like some teary-eyed maid - I am furious. You disgraced me, and my house, and the Starks in front of thousands of people!"

"That was not my intention," He had the air of someone who knew they were right, and the other person was being unreasonable. Like his good intentions were obvious, and she was just too short-sighted to see them.

"Then what was?" She roared, hating being patronised. "You cold, miserable bastard, tell me what your intention was!"

He fell silent. One second, two, three, four, five - 

At his continued lack of words, Robarra made a noise of disgust and, in a swish of skirts, left for her private chamber, slamming the door behind her as loud as possible.

"Tell the stables to saddle my horse," She snapped at one of the maids who was making her bed, seeing the girl flinch at her furious tone. "Or get a guard to, if you're busy,"

"Yes milady," The maid hastily curtseyed, scrambling to tell one of the guards at the door. 

Robarra quickly changed into an old, green hunting dress, delighting in the fact it was perhaps the shabbiest garment she owned. She did not want to look like a princess - not when being married to the prince was so infuriating - and would enjoy being dressed like a tavern wench instead. Never mind that she was not meant to be riding at all in her condition.

She didn't argue when two of the guards insisted on riding out with her - how she missed the days when it was just her and Ned, Lord Arryn trusting him enough to escort her - but drove her horse at such a pace that they were hard-pressed to keep up with her. She probably should have brought one of the Kingsguard, but didn't really care much. The Kingswood Brotherhood were long-since defeated, what danger was there here?

Besides, on this horse she could surely outride anyone who meant her harm. The beast was not a lady's horse, no; her brother Stannis had surprisingly given her the best wedding gift of them all, a huge destrier more fit for a knight than a princess. The beast was moody and hard to handle but powerful, with a beautiful dark bay coat and thunderous hooves that reflected her dark mood. 

Having pushed the horse as hard as possible and then some, Robarra's temper had abated slightly by the time they returned to the keep before dusk, though she was far from forgiving her husband; just less likely to punch him in the face. She didn't bother getting changed, or bathing - why make the effort to look and smell nice? - though did call for her dinner to be brought up to her rooms. She also requested that her daughter Visenya to be brought to her.

Robarra did smile when the little girl was carried in, placing her on her lap and bouncing the giggling child up and down. The babe - big, strong and healthy - caught a lock of her dark hair in her chubby baby fist and tugged, making her laugh. Those big dark, blue-purple eyes were so beautiful she could get lost in them.

"You are nothing like your father, are you Vissy?" She pressed a kiss to the child's forehead, at the same time thinking of another dark-haired little girl, hundreds of leagues away, up in the frozen north. 

Did Ned bounce Mya on his knee like this? Did he tell her stories and let her ride on his shoulders? It was amusing to think of her grim-faced friend with an adoring child hanging off him, but at the same time somehow so easy to picture. Robarra knew he would never let her daughter be raised by cold nursemaids and left to grow up a kitchen maid.

As ever when she thought of Ned, she felt a stab of... something. Sadness, maybe. She hadn't realised quite how much she would miss him, now their rooms were not on the same floor of the same small castle.

Sometimes, when she lay alone in that huge bed of hers - for even when she and Rhaegar were not arguing, he had always preferred his own company most nights - Robarra wondered if she should have just claimed Mya as her own child, and said Ned was the father. 

There would have been an awful scandal, of course, but she was caught up in an awful scandal as it was with her princely husband making such a scene with Lady Lyanna. And the king would have been furious, but they would have easily found another bride for Rhaegar. Cersei Lannister perhaps. Gods know that spiteful little girl deserved the cold, distant prince.

She and Ned could have married then. They wouldn't have had a claim to anything except whichever small keep in the North his father deigned to give him, but that might not have been so bad. She didn't think for one moment that he would try to stop her doing whatever she liked. They could go out exploring the North, perhaps even Beyond-The-Wall or Essos, and there would be no one to tell them otherwise, nothing to hold them back. 

Instead, she would stay in King's Landing for the rest of her life as a pretty ornament and organiser or parties, with a husband she resented more with each passing day. She would grow fat and idle and pop out another child every few years until Rhaegar had enough heirs to be satisfied with or she died in childbirth, and she would never again know the touch of a man. She would rarely leave the city, and all her days would be largely the same.

That dismal thought was even more soul-crushing for its inevitability; for once, she was not being overdramatic. 

Still, Robarra did love her children.

When her two daughters were born - twins, gods - she wanted to name them Elenei and Jocelyn, Baratheon names, just to spite her husband. Rhaegar overruled her, however, and insisted on naming one of the girls - the one with purple Targaryen eyes - Rhaenys. The other, she was allowed to name Elenei, after the Storm Goddess, for her eyes of Baratheon-blue. Elenei looked so much like Mya it hurt sometimes.

Her husband seemed uncharacteristically disappointed now that he had three daughters and no son. Most men would be, in all fairness, but she had given him three children in two years; surely that was nothing to be ashamed of. And for all his faults, she had not taken him for the kind of man to mercilessly push his wife for an heir.

Admittedly, she had refused to let Rhaegar in her bed since Harrenhal, even after the twins were born, but Robarra knew eventually she would have to give him a son whether she was furious at him or not.

Not that he exactly gave her the chance. It was scarcely months after the twins were born that Rhaegar left for Summerhall, with Sers Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. 

At the time, Robarra didn't think anything of it; he was prone to long trips away. Instead, she took advantage of the youngest member of the Kingsguard's disdain for rules and insisted he accompany her on trips out riding, or into the city, as all of the others took their duties far too seriously and would advise against it. 

Ser Jaime was a lot more fun than his awful sister, despite being as arrogant as most Lannisters were, with the addition of being some kind of prodigy with a sword to swell his head even further. Though he was obviously bitter about something - perhaps he had realised throwing away his chance to rule Casterly Rock to be a glorified bodyguard was a catastrophic mistake - he had an amusingly sharp tongue, and would often have Robarra in stitches after some scathing comment or sly jest. 

It helped that he was one of the best looking men she had ever seen, not that even she had the nerve to try anything untoward as the prince's wife. The smell of burning human flesh that permeated the throne room - as well as the distant screams she often heard whenever King Aerys was overseeing an execution - was enough to put her off being accused of any kind of treason or adultery, no matter how much she disliked her husband. A pretty Lannister was not worth losing her head for.

In fact, even if she had tried to flirt with Ser Jaime, for the first time Robarra had her doubts that they would be reciprocated. He did not even glance at her ample cleavage - most men gawped - and though he seemed to enjoy her company, never gave off the impression of being charmed. Perhaps he didn't like women at all, she wondered idly, or maybe had a sweetheart somewhere in the west. The latter would explain his bitterness. Perhaps it was both?

She began to realise that something wasn't quite right when Rhaegar was still gone a month later. A month after that, he had still not returned, which was more than strange. Besides a passing thought of being glad she didn't have to look at his melancholic expression, Robarra only gave it a passing thought, however. 

At least until word came from Riverrun. A furious letter from Brandon Stark, the handwriting smudged and almost tearing through the page in places.

Prince Rhaegar kidnapped my sister, he wrote. And I am coming to bring her back. The Starks will not forgive this dishonour.

She had never known such fury upon hearing that news. Not even at Harrenhal, being shamed in front of most of the nobility in Westeros and a good number of commoners too. 

When Maester Pycelle had brought her the news, Robarra had felt like she was swelling in rage, enough to explode, hands clenching into fists, nails digging red half-circles into the palms of her hands, her entire body boiling with hot anger. Not only had her husband betrayed her with the daughter of a great lord - which would no doubt cause no end of trouble - he had kidnapped her friend's sister, Stannis' betrothed. 

For what purpose? Lust? Rhaegar was not a lustful man, or so she had thought before Harrenhal. He was distant with her even in bed, and seemed to take no great joy in laying with her, yet never showed an interest in whores or other women. Despite her anger and disgust, she couldn't imagine him holding down Lyanna and raping her. 

Yet the girl had no interest in him, she had shown that at Harrenhal... or had she? She had apologised for Rhaegar's actions, true, and said that nothing untoward had happened, which Robarra believed. But Lyanna was in no rush to marry Stannis; she had seen the girl pleading with Ned to do something about her awful match. Robarra couldn't blame her - the idea of marrying a man like Stannis was even worse than Rhaegar - but perhaps that had been enough for her to have gone willingly?

But even if she had fallen madly in love with the prince, Rhaegar was still three-and-twenty. He should know better than to seduce an unmarried maid of fourteen, whether she was willing or not. 

There had always been a certain satisfaction in anger for Robarra. She wouldn't say she liked it, although it always proved something interesting had happened that was interesting enough for her to get so worked up about. There was something therapeutic about yelling loud enough to have men flinching, of storming around in wrath and venting out all her frustrations.

Yet this time, her husband was not here for her to scream at. It would be more than her life's worth to scream at Aerys. Rhaella didn't deserve it, poor woman, and though Prince Viserys was a little shit at times, he was not to blame for his brother's sins. There was no object for her frustrations aside from the contents of Rhaegar's chambers, which admittedly did suffer her rage; she broke that silver harp of his over her knee, for one, and smashed a pot of ink all over the books and stacks of parchment on his desk.

But for once, after she had ranted and raged and knocked a few things over, she sat silently (moodily) down at her desk and began to scrawl out two letters. One to Storm's End, the other to the Eyrie, where she knew Ned was visiting before his brother's wedding.

*

First chapter from Robarra's POV! Even if it was just her being angry at her husband haha (I've never named a chapter more accurately) - that would be hard to get across in a Ned chapter considering he's the other end of Westeros. 

I know she is quite different from Robert, but I had to characterise her that way simply because a female carbon copy of Robert would no doubt have been sent to become a septa in disgrace years ago. I hope the key aspects of his personality - hot tempered, reckless and quite selfish but charming and fun - come across in Robarra at least.

As always, please let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the future of this story! Who do you think should be king/queen at this point?