Robarra Baratheon wed Rhaegar Targaryen in the first few weeks of 280AC, in the Great Sept of Baelor. 

She made a beautiful bride at eighteen, Ned thought. Tall, full-figured, and powerful-looking in her magnificent golden gown, dragons, and stags outlined in black embroidery on the skirts. Robarra suited the colours of red and black that her husband cloaked her in, though standing next to the man seemed rather out of place. Too colourful, too real, too loud and animated for the slender, silver prince, with his lilac eyes and graceful, melancholy air.

More importantly, however, no one would guess that the new Princess of Dragonstone had birthed a blacksmith's child. Robarra wasn't a delicate girl by any means, and though she could hardly be called fat, the slight weight gain from her pregnancy was not visible on her tall, robust frame.

Ned attended the wedding along with Jon Arryn and his household, and for whatever reason found it rather hard to smile throughout. He didn't make much of a habit of smiling much at strangers anyway, so it went unnoticed, though he suspected that his foster father knew something wasn't quite right. 

Robarra, of course, loved occasions like this so smiled throughout despite the fact that she wasn't so keen on her new husband, often laughing uproariously, being nothing less than gracious and charming to all the guests. He would admit that she brought an air of jovialty and fun to the rather stifled and tense royal family, all subject to the mercurial whims of the king. There would always be those who called her too bold, or a loudmouth, or overly friendly with anyone and everyone, but even more people who enjoyed her company, fought for her freely-given attention and delighted in making her laugh.

There were few people who were not completely charmed by her by the day of the wedding. In the weeks leading up to the event, the prince's betrothed had made countless friends in court. She liked to hunt with her longbow - which she was very skilled at - and was a talented rider, often impressing many by leading the chase herself, making raucous jests on the way back like she was one of the men. Ned wouldn't have been surprised if she picked up a spear one day to hunt boar. She was very approachable, down to earth and not prissy for a highborn lady.

And she did try with Rhaegar, even if she didn't like him overmuch, let alone love him. Often, whenever she was not surrounded by a retinue of people clamouring to win favour with the soon-to-be princess, she would complain to Ned of her efforts. The prince was distant and melancholy, unimpressed with any flirtations she tried or conversation she made, beyond polite small talk. 

So as he watched in the Great Sept as Robarra was bound to the man in marriage, all Ned could think was that it was rather sad, to see someone so full of life wed to someone she described as dull and cold.

Most of the lords and ladies in Westeros were at the wedding. Notable was Cersei Lannister, the fourteen-year-old daughter of Lord Tywin. The girl was stunningly beautiful - more beautiful than any in the Seven Kingdoms, aside from maybe Lady Ashara Dayne - but clearly spoiled, used to getting her own way. Her father had wanted her to marry Rhaegar instead of Robarra, and it seemed Cersei shared his ambitions of making her queen, making her rather resentful of the lady who had gotten what she wanted. All her outwardly sweet well-wishes and compliments were laced with poison, and she glared viciously when she thought no one was looking.

But Robarra wasn't one to let spiteful little girls walk over her, and responded to Cersei's veiled insults with open japes and jests at her expense. At first, it was nothing more than good-natured ribbing, which another girl might have taken as an olive branch and gotten over herself, but not Cersei. Within a day or two, the Lannister girl clearly loathed his friend, which she only viewed with amusement, none of it cutting anywhere deep. Robarra could have made Cersei's life miserable, seeing as most of the other court ladies were clamouring for her favour; the fact she did not was more down to her not really caring, rather than any kindess, but still.

The girl's twin brother Jaime wasn't quite as insufferable, though he was certainly arrogant, irreverent and reckless, with a very sharp tongue that was amusing at times, grating at others. At fourteen, the only ones who could best him with a sword were the knights of the Kingsguard, and there was no doubting that the boy knew it. 

Another notable presence at the wedding was Stannis Baratheon, Lyanna's betrothed. Robarra's younger brother was now Lord of Storm's End since their parents had tragically drowned in a shipwreck the previous year, and could not have been less like his sister if he tried. Stannis was even more serious and unpersonable than Ned, rigidly stubborn, dour and completely humourless.

He dreaded the day Lyanna met her future husband. His wild sister would not be at all impressed, though hopefully they could come to grow into some sort of friendship in time.

Ned did try to speak to Stannis seeing as they were to be goodbrothers in a couple of years, but he wasn't the best at idle small talk at the best of times, let alone when the other person barely gave a reply to work with, only slightly suspcious glowers. He got the impression that Stannis did a lot of glowering, though it seemed like he directed it at Ned a lot more than everyone else. Not as much as he glared at Robarra, however, particularly when she loudly teased him in front of everyone or flung her arm around his shoulders.

Yet during the bedding ceremony, Ned and Stannis locked eyes as the horde of eager men descended on a laughing Robarra, who was already loudly joining in on their bawdy jests and crude suggestions, and sat back down, mutually agreeing that they were not needed.

"She's enjoying herself," Ned said with a shrug. That was something; most women hated the tradition, or merely endured it.

Stannis had grimaced but seemed to agree. No doubt he didn't want to see his sister stripped naked, either. That wasn't the reason Ned hadn't joined them; he didn't particularly want to see his friend delivered to her marriage bed at all.

He didn't see Robarra until noon the next day in one of the hallways of the Red Keep, though by all accounts the prince had been up at dawn in the training yard. Rhaegar seemed to be trying to make up for the lost time there, given he hadn't so much as picked up a sword until the age of four-and-ten, preferring to hide away in the library.

"Ned!" He heard a cry behind him, and scarcely had time to turn before she barrelled into him. He staggered; Robarra was only an inch shorter than him, and hardly a skinny woman.

"What's this for? I only saw you last night at the feast," He twisted out of her embrace without returning it, taking her arm instead. 

"What was that for?" She scowled at him.

"You're married," He pointed out, well aware of the two handmaids who had been forced to trail after her. "We shouldn't be so familiar,"

"Oh, who cares," She snorted. "No one's paying any mind. I hug all my friends,"

"Exactly," Ned said darkly, but Robarra just laughed, annoyance forgotten.

"You shouldn't worry so much - Rhaegar's got his head too far in the clouds to concern himself with anything like that," She lowered her voice so her attendants couldn't hear. "He's dull even between the sheets, Ned, would you believe? I'd say the blacksmith boy was much more fun, and I was less drunk then,"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, as she grinned beside him. It was after a few moments of easy silence that he realised they were headed for a busier area of the castle.

"You cannot make your first appearance after your wedding night on the arm of a man who isn't your husband," He would insist upon that. Ned liked his head on his shoulders, and King Aerys - whom everyone called mad behind his back - was not known for being particularly reasonable, or casting aside his suspicions.

"I suppose not," She said reluctantly, letting go of his arm. He was just glad she saw the problem, at least. "How long will you stay, here?" The question came out of nowhere, and wasn't something they had discussed before; something they had both avoided thinking about, in fact. "I can have Rhaegar find you a position in court,"

"I'm not staying here," Ned said. "I'll be gone by the end of the week," He watched her expression change from hopeful to angry.

"So soon?" She scowled, voice rising slightly. "Why? Do I bore you, now I'm a married woman, is that it?"

"There's no place for me here - "

"I just told you, I could find you one. Being Princess of Dragonstone has to count for something. You could be a household knight at worst - "

"I'm not a knight," He cut her off, but was ignored.

"Or even a place on the small council, eventually. There's no reason for you to leave! What would you do back in the Vale, or the North, that you couldn't do here?" The Baratheon temper was fully roused now, but he was used to weathering her rages.

"No," Ned told her firmly. "I'm not a knight. Not a lord, or an heir. And I'm not made for politics. King's Landing is suffocating, and the court is worse. I can hardly trail after you the whole time. There is nothing for me here," It was perhaps the first serious thing he had denied her their whole lives. But they were not children anymore, besides, and the Princess of Dragonstone could not be seen going out riding in the Kingswood or drinking in the city with a man who was not her husband.

Robarra's eyes widened in hurt briefly before anger reovertook her expession. 

"Fine!" She almost shouted. "Fine, fine, Ned. Run away back north, and leave me all alone here, if it please you. I'm sure we'll all be better off for it," We would. That didn't mean he had to like it, and she clearly didn't either.

Robarra had gotten over herself enough to say goodbye to him in the courtyard three days later, as Ned prepared to ride down to the docks and take a ship with Lord Arryn back to Gulltown. She still wore a rather aggrieved expression - still angry - but embraced him nonetheless, lingering slightly too long.

"Goodbye, Ned," She murmured. "Give Mya a kiss from me, when you see her," He breathed in the smell of her hair, letting himself hug her back. At least until he saw Cersei Lannister watching them like a hidden snake from a window overlooking the courtyard.

"Of course," He drew back, narrowing his eyes up at the girl, who stepped back out of sight but not before Robarra followed his stare. "Careful. That girl has it out for you,"

"What's a little brat like her going to do?" She scoffed, though did step back from him, far enough for it to be proper.

The only reason Ned was returning to the Eyrie - instead of taking a ship straight from Gulltown to White Harbour - was to collect the last of his things from his time fostering there, and to check in on Robarra's daughter, of course. But as it turned out, the serving maid Jula was about to marry, and her soon-to-be husband did not want the bastard girl around. Ned was so impressed that Jula had kept up the ruse of Mya being her own child, even to her betrothed, that he waved off her profuse apologies and readily agreed to take the girl back to Winterfell. 

Gods only know what his family would have to say about that.

He hated travelling by sea at the best of times, let alone with a two-year-old to take care of. Ned had had little experience with children, being four years old himself when Lyanna was born, and by the time Benjen was no longer an infant, he had already started fostering at the Eyrie. Luckily the merchant ship's captain had a wife who also sailed with him, named Cassie. The woman seemed to take pity on Ned, and loved children besides, so was only too happy to take care of Mya. Once they docked in White Harbour, he paid the woman an extra gold dragon on top of the fee for travel.

During the ride back to Winterfell he was on his own, however, aside from the two men-at-arms who travelled with him. Both were equally useless in this sense, although one - who of an age with Ned - seemed to find tying the little girl's hair in increasingly ridiculous styles rather amusing.

Mya, for her part, seemed perfectly happy with the less than adequete care, and didn't seem to mind sleeping rough when they couldn't find a tavern or keep to stay in either, which was common in the more sparsely populated North than it would be in the south. She was an easy child, he had to admit, clever and adventurous, though it still caught Ned off guard sometimes when he saw Robarra's blue eyes staring from her face.

He found that he did not have to lie much at all upon his return to Winterfell; everyone knew what a lordling bringing back a motherless child meant. Brandon roared with laughter as Ned rode into his childhood home with the little girl on his lap. His elder brother had clapped him on the back and saying he didn't think he had it in him. Lyanna had giggled and teased him just as much, playing with Mya with a bit of string, like she was a cat rather than a child. Benjen hadn't seemed to realise what was so funny, but picked up on the atmosphere and seemed delighted at the idea of a little niece, meaning he was no longer the youngest. 

His father had not been impressed, but he had not been especially angry either, and permitted the girl to stay at Winterfell. The reasons for that became quite clear when he summoned Ned to his solar one morning, only to find Mya sat on his father's lap playing with his beard.

"How many serving maids in the Vale have Baratheon blue eyes and black hair?" Rickard Stark enquired pointedly, somehow stern and dignified despite the child pulling at his hair. "Your siblings - and most of Northmen, for that matter - might not have ventured very far south, but I know their look when I see it,"

Ned grimaced, not even bothering to object to that. If his father had brought it up, there was no convincing him that Mya wasn't the bastard daughter of him and Robarra, even if the truth was that the girl wasn't his at all. Telling the truth would only bring up questions of why on earth he had agreed to take her in in the first place, which was a slippery slope to go down.

"I thought Brandon, of all my children, would be the first to give me a grandchild. I thought you knew better than to be so foolish," His father said sharply at his silence. "The Baratheon girl is Princess of Dragonstone now, the future queen, not your childhood friend - if the king were to find out she has a Stark bastard up in Winterfell, it would be disastrous for everyone involved,"

"He won't find out," Ned replied. "No one knows except Lord Arryn and five trusted servants, who likely have never left the Vale in their lives,"

"Best hope it stays that way," Lord Stark grumbled. "Having here her - under our watch and out of the way - is better than her staying in the Vale, all things considered. She can stay here and live a quiet life, and we'd best hope no one else sees a resemblance,"

*

As someone pointed out, yes I know it's unrealistic for Robarra to be fostered in the Vale rather than Stannis but just suspend your disbelief on that one, it makes for a more interesting narrative this way. Perhaps Stannis' parents knew he wouldn't do well away from home, being much less outgoing than Robert, or believed his time would be better spent making friends with the lord's sons in the Stormlands as he struggles with that. I think he would be less bitter than in canon with a brash older sister rather than a brother; no matter how much attention Robarra gets, he is still the heir.

Shameless self-promotion; if you like this story then please do check out my other genderbend fics, with female Tywin and female Jaime. I also have a completed JaimexLyanna fic, which inspired me to pair them in this story as I love those two together.

Anyway please let me know what you think! I was so grateful for the lovely comments and reviews on the previous chapter, so thanks to everyone for that.