Most of the Seven Kingdoms was at war, the likes of which had not been seen since the Dance of the Dragons. 

Dorne stayed neutral, seeing as they had no stake in the rebellion, though clearly saw the way the tide was turning else they would have fought for the king. When the prince's own goodbrother rose against him, it was rather telling of his character.

Tywin Lannister too was neutral, staying under Casterly Rock, neither reaching out to fight for his old friend Aerys nor joining the rebels. No doubt because his son Jaime was a glorified hostage of the king's. It had taken Robarra some time to realise that the young knight had not been offered a position in the Kingsguard for his incredible swordsmanship, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that Aerys just wished to spite Tywin. 

With Stannis still stuck defending the borders of the Stormlands from half of Mace Tyrell's force, the Targaryen forces and the rest of the Reachmen were the only ones to stand in the way of the Stark-Arryn-Tully alliance bearing down from the north. All word from the front suggested a great battle in the Riverlands that would decide the course of the war.

Robarra spent several days pacing in restless frustration, wishing she was there herself to see what was happening. It was maddening, just waiting here without news. To the south, her brother battled to keep invaders from their lands. To the north, her best friend and foster father faced against her husband. She knew who she hoped would win; no doubt it made her a poor wife, but she cared little.

The first news they got was not of the Trident, however, though it may have predetermined its outcome. Aerys had practically screamed in fury when he was informed how Stannis had routed the Tyrell forces blocking him at Ashford, taking their commander - the famously skilled general Lord Randyll Tarly - hostage, along with many other prominent Reachlords. Stannis was now marching his troops at a punishing pace to attack the loyalist forces from behind. 

Whilst the king screamed for forces they did not have and could not afford to spare to march after Stannis before he reached the Trident, Robarra had to remove herself from the hall to stop herself roaring with laughter. Stannis! He beat them. Who would've thought her sullen little brother had such a talented military mind. 

She resolved to buy him a keg of ale when they next met. Or arrange him a marriage with a pretty bride.

As it turned out, it was a decisive victory for the rebels on the Trident. Robarra practically shook the messenger for word of what happened, who had lived, who had died. The details were rather murky, as these things tended to be, but all could agree that Stannis had smashed through the loyalist army from the south, whilst Stark, Arryn and Tully fell upon them from the north. 

The battle had still raged a long while, given the scale of the Tyrell forces and the loyalist's superior position, but when Rhaegar had fallen, his armies had lost spirit and been relatively easily defeated.

Robarra felt some sadness - well, more like heaviness - at the death of her husband. She would have been a monster not to be. She had never liked Rhaegar overmuch, and had wanted to tear his head from her shoulders himself in the last months, but he was the father of her daughters if nothing else. 

"Who killed him, in the end?" She inquired, morbidly curious, when none of the Targaryens spoke. 

Rhaella had begun to weep silently. Prince Viserys started to cry as well, burying his face in his mother's skirts. Even Aerys had gone uncharacteristically quiet.

"That is uncertain, my lady," The messenger had clearly expected to find her more distraught to be a widow. Perhaps she should be, but Robarra had never been good at acting, and the wretch had abandoned her, shamed her family and kidnapped her friend's sister after all. "I had it that the prince had fallen from his horse, losing his helm. Or that he was already wounded at the hands of a common soldier. Whatever the circumstances, the second Stark son made the killing blow,"

"What, Ned?" Robarra blurted out, unable to hide her shocked amazement. Her friend was a good swordsman, better than most, but Rhaegar had been almost as good as most of the Kingsguard. He was no Jaime Lannister or Arthur Dayne, but naturally talented nonetheless.

At the narrowed eyes of Aerys she hastily cast her own gaze down, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his paranoia. Considering her own brother was rebelling against the crown, she was surprised she had not been burned yet; with Rhaegar gone, that was a distinct possibility. Perhaps he was saving her for when they made it to King's Landing. 

Sensing the tension, the messenger hesitantly continued to speak. Tywin Lannister had finally roused himself from his Rock and was heading west for King's Landing. No one quite knew what to make of that; was he here to defend the city or seize it? As a result, Ned was racing south down the Kingsroad in an attempt to get there first, Stannis not far behind.

Robarra was not a particularly godly woman, yet even she had prayed that it was Eddard Stark who reached King's Landing first, and not Tywin Lannister, no matter which side he was on. She had not forgotten how he had pushed for a betrothal between Rhaegar and his beautiful but vile daughter Cersei.

That wish was not to be, however. It was red banners that arrived at the gates of the city, and red banners that marched in after the king foolishly agreed to let his old friend in to save him. Once inside the walls, the Lannister army immediately began to sack the city, burning and raping and pillaging their way up Aegon's high hill to the Red Keep.

With all the Kingsguard gone, it fell to young Ser Jaime to hold the castle, against his own father's men. The young man did try, of course - he had even advised the king against letting Lord Tywin in - yet she could see his heart wasn't truly in it. 

Rhaella and Viserys had been sent to Dragonstone in the days following the Trident. Robarra was meant to be shut away in Maegor's Holdfast with her daughters, though figured that if they breached the outer walls then it would only be a matter of time before they got through the inner ones. She would rather die in the thick of it, knowing what was going on, that be butchered in her chambers away from prying eyes.

If it had been the Starks or Baratheons storming the castle, she would not be so fearful, yet Tywin Lannister... She didn't know what would happen to her or her children. Surely he would not dare raise the ire of his apparent allies by murdering her and her daughters, considering her close ties to both Stark, Arryn and Baratheon. But perhaps he wished to take the throne for himself? Or for young Viserys, away on Dragonstone, and rule through him as Regent?

It was a strange feeling, fear; one she wasn't quite used to. Robarra hadn't felt this scared since when she realised she was pregnant for the first time, and that fear was purely for herself. Now, she had three young daughters to protect. And protect them she would. She would stand between them and an axe-wielding warrior if it came to it.

That was how she had come to be in the throne room, where Aerys was lurking, as much as she misliked putting up with his mad ravings. There would be no quiet, discrete murder of her here, not the place where everyone would gravitate the moment the walls were breached. Everyone would know what had happened to her. 

It was actually rather dull, aside from the constant ache of fear. She heard the screams and clash of steel from outside the walls, but they were far off. The waiting was torturous. Robarra had sat down eventually, her daughters around her; Visenya sat at her side, propping up baby Rhaenys, whilst Elenei sat in her mother's lap. They had had a nursemaid to attend them, but Robarra had sent her away. No need to drag some innocent serving maid into this mess.

Ser Jaime was in and out of the throne room, relaying what was happening out on the wall. Robarra was impressed he did not desert immediately after the king demanded he bring him his father's head. Though it was Aerys' request to for Jaime to bring him the Hand - and head pyromancer - Lord Rosshart that had him looking like he had seen a ghost. 

It was only then that Robarra realised that 'burn them all' might not be as metaphorical as she thought.

When Jaime Lannister next came back to the throne room, there was blood on his sword and armour.

"Whose blood is that?" The king demanded.

"Rosshart's," The knight replied, tone different somehow, absent of all the wry laughter and irreverence she normally associated with him. 

Robarra scrambled to her feet in shock, placing Elenei behind her as she stepped forward, in front of them. The king squealed and ran to the Iron Throne, only for Lannister to haul him bodily off the steps and slit his throat with that golden sword of his. She let out a cry of shock, but not distress.

Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, dropped to the floor in a crumpled, bloody heap, dead. 

Slowly, Ser Jaime turned around, and Robarra instinctively straightened, sick fear coiling in her gut, not for herself - she was surprisingly unafraid of death - but for her children. 

"Visenya, go," She said in a voice not to be disobeyed; she herself could not follow, not with two babies who couldn't walk, but her eldest daughter might yet survive. Why had she dismissed the maid? "Run, hide, don't let anyone see you,"

Yet to her surprise, Jaime lowered his sword immediately as though stung, eyes widening at the idea that he meant them any harm.

"No, don't - I won't - he was going to blow up the city with wildfire," He panted, out of breath and hands shaking, clearly in shock from what had just happened. "Rosshart put caches of it everywhere. The sept, the Dragonpit, under the keep,"

"Did your father tell you - "

"I'm not my father," He said sharply. "He didn't tell me to kill Aerys. I won't harm you or your daughters - I've known those girls since they were born, Robarra, for gods sake. Stop looking like that, you never normally look so afraid - it's not natural," He sat down on the lower steps of the Iron Throne, bloody sword across his knees. "There, are you happy now?"

She stared at him a few moments, then ultimately decided he could have killed them already if he wished. She liked Jaime, besides; it was his father's orders she did not trust.

"Almost," She said, picking up Rhaenys. "Here," She dumped the child in his lap. "Look after her - Lannister men wouldn't dare touch you,"

He looked surprised, particularly seeing as he was spattered with the girl's grandfather's blood and Robarra had just feared he would kill her and her children. Jaime held a baby surprisingly well; she vaguely remembered his own little brother was eight years younger, and he must have held some of the numerous Lannister cousins at this point. 

She herself went to retrieve Elenei, sitting down beside him, leading Visenya by the hand.

"She's the queen, now," Jaime eyed the girl with some incredulity. "Thanks to me, I suppose,"

"Don't say that," Robarra glared at him. "You might as well kill her now and have done with it,"

"You don't want your daughter to be queen?" He became even more disbelieving at that.

"Not everyone's a power-hungry Lannister, Lannister,"

She wasn't quite sure what was meant to happen next, if she was honest. Technically Visenya was queen, but their lives were in the hands of the rebels now. Robarra did not know or care much about politics, but she was not too stupid to realise that given how the majority of lords had fought against the Targaryens, a thirteen-year regency for a child queen would not lend itself to stability. Another rebellion would follow, one that might cost their lives.

And the idea of her being queen regent was both horrifying, amusing and suffocating.

"Here," After a pause, Lannister handed her the dagger from his belt. "Just in case. Though if you have to use it, you're likely dead anyway,"

"You haven't got a bow on you, have you?" She raised an amused eyebrow. "I'm actually good at that,"

The doors opened and Lannister soldiers burst in, stopping dead when they saw their lord's heir with a bloody sword and a child in his lap, sat next to the corpse of the Mad King.

She let Jaime handle his father's men, for once keeping her mouth shut. Robarra was grateful, however, that he did not let go of Rhaenys. Who knew what orders Tywin Lannister had given his soldiers. 

When most of the Westerlands men filed out - though some remained, Jaime clearly knew them and they seemed to answer to him - she sent someone running to find a nursemaid or two, for her arms were beginning to ache. Robarra gratefully handed over Elenei, and transferred Rhaenys from Jaime's arms to the arms of the other girl; both maids had helped tend to all her children.

Visenya was still sat on the lowest step of the throne, kicking her legs back and forth. 

Before Robarra could go to her, the doors were flung open once more and she stiffened again, but immediately relaxed when she caught sight of the furs, leathers, thick beards and running wolf sigil. She almost did not recognise the man at the front. Almost. It took her a few seconds, but then it hit and she let out a cry, running over, flinging her arms around his neck with enough force to make him stagger.

He had grown, she noticed. Not upwards - they were still almost exactly the same height - but Ned was much stronger and broader than before, and wore a beard. He seemed older, too, more than just a few years. No doubt the stress of leading a rebellion in his imprisoned brother's name had done that. The Stark greatsword was strapped to his back, and he smelt like the blood and smoke from the sacked city.

"Ned," She could have wept, suddenly overcome by emotion, and swallowed. "Thank the gods you're here,"

There was some chuckling from the Northmen behind them.

"No wonder you pushed us so fast to get here, Eddard," One of them snorted.

Robarra made a rude hand gesture in that direction, but grinned over Ned's shoulder, which made his men laugh even more.

"You did hear that I killed your husband, didn't you?" He murmured into her hair. 

She drew back, beaming.

"Exactly,"

If only things could have stayed as blissful as they felt in that moment. The arrival of the other lords - Tywin Lannister, Hoster Tully, Lord Jon, Stannis (who she had clapped on the shoulder with a hearty congratulations, to his surprise), as well as a rather cowed (yet still blustering at the injustice of being captured) Mace Tyrell - complicated everything. Lord Brandon Stark - raging over the fact he had been forced to let his little brother fight his war for him - was released from the cells and that did not calm anything down at all.

It was clear that Lannister wanted something in return for the trouble of securing the city and the death of Aerys. It was also clear that there would be a problem if he did not receive anything.

Despite the fact that the meetings to follow would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms, and her own family, Robarra did not have the patience nor the knowledge to pay close attention and was bored to tears with all the pointless talking in circles. Could they not agree on a solution any faster than this? It could not be that hard, surely. She was lucky enough to trust that Jon would fight her corner, Ned and Stannis too.

Finally, she had had enough.

"Oh, let Lannister's blasted daughter be queen," Robarra got to her feet, sliding her chair back with a sharp scrape. "We all know he won't settle for anything less. Stannis, you marry her and take the throne - we've a Targaryen grandmother, and you won it through right of conquest. You fought more battles than any of the rest despite being stuck in your own lands for most of the rebellion," 

The grinding of her brother's teeth was audible. Miserable bastard, she'd just told everyone to make him king.

"Not to mention you saved everyone's sorry arse at the Trident by breaking Tyrell in the south. All of you are thinking the same thing - my daughter will be dead before her tenth birthday if we attempt a thirteen-year regency. Visenya can marry Stannis' heir when the time comes, and be Lady Targaryen in the meantime,"

"You would advocate your brother taking the throne rather than your daughter?" Tywin Lannister raised an eyebrow, tone as close to incredulous as she had ever heard it. 

"I'd rather have a living daughter than a dead queen," She shrugged. "Perhaps she'll hate me for it in ten years. Still, she'll be queen either way,"

"That's..." Jon Arryn started, glancing at her. "Not a bad option," No one said anything in objection to that. "Robarra, if you're sure," We can fight Tywin Lannister, the look on his face said. Your daughter will be queen if you wish it.

"I am," She had meant what she said about preferring her daughter alive, and not crushed by the weight of a crown; this way she would experience some form of freedom for the rest of her childhood. And perhaps selfishly, Visenya being queen also meant Robarra would be tethered to King's Landing for the next fifteen years, and she did not think she could face that. 

More discussions followed that, quibbling over details and hostages and alliances. This was only the first day of negotiations; no doubt it would take weeks to finalise everything. The thought was sickening, and Robarra might have to come down with a crippling illness until it was all sorted out.

She was exhausted when they finally adjourned the meeting, and gravitated to Ned's side as most of them filed out, though Jon remained to talk gods know what else with Lord Tywin. 

"You look like you've just fought a battle," Her friend chuckled at her obvious misery. 

"Surely the Trident wasn't as arduous as that?" She shook her head in disgust. "I'd rather slog through knee-deep mud and blood with a broken sword and enemies attacking on all sides than do that again. Please, Ned, shove me down these stairs - they won't make me attend with a broken leg, surely?"

"You've got even more dramatic since I last saw you. I didn't think that was possible,"

She laughed loudly.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, Robarra realised she was automatically headed to her chambers in Maegor's; a shame the hour was so late, the children would already be in bed. Ned had followed her perhaps because he wasn't thinking much about where they were going either.

"Sorry," He jolted in realisation as she stopped by her door and opened it. "I - I'll see you tomorrow,"

"Oh don't be ridiculous," She held the door for him. "I haven't seen you in years, Ned, I'm not going to send you away without talking your ear off for at least an hour. Come in,"

He chuckled, stepping inside. 

"From your hospitality, no one would guess that I've been fighting a war against your husband,"

"You know full well I would have joined you if I could," She grumbled, throwing herself down heavily in a chair by the fire, not bothering to appear careful or dainty. 

Ned sat opposite her in the other chair somewhat more carefully.

"I can imagine you drinking and swearing with the men at arms," He said, amused. "You'd be quite at home in a camp,"

"Robarra Baratheon, wench of the Northern army," She grinned, suddenly reminded of something. "Oh, I'd forgotten - did you hear your brother held me hostage with a sword at my throat, when he first arrived here?"

"No," His eyes narrowed. "Brandon didn't mention that,"

"What?" She exclaimed in mock outrage. "I'm the reason his head is still attached! Ungrateful bastard. You deserve to be Lord Stark more than him, at this rate. You led the rebellion while he ground his teeth in a cell,"

"And he's still furious about that," Ned grimaced. "He feels like he hasn't gotten a chance to prove himself. That I've somehow managed to outshine him,"

"You did outshine him. If he hadn't run into King's Landing like a fool screaming for Rhaegar to come out and die, that would've been his chance," 

"That doesn't really make the situation any better,"

"Eh, what does it matter. He's still the eldest son," Robarra shrugged, getting to her feet. "I'm getting myself a drink - would you like anything?" She could see him start to refuse. "You've raced down the Kingsguard from the Trident, with no rest after the biggest battle in over a hundred years, only to arrive during the sack of a city then sit through hours of wretched politics. Have a bloody drink, Stark,"

"Fine," He smiled. "Dornish red, if you have it - and don't try to force me to drink more than one cup,"

"Gods, you're just as dull as before," There was a teasing note to her voice as she went to pour their wine. "How is that possible? Do tell me you at least had a whore or camp follower after your battle victory,"

"Yes, at least three every night," He made a face at her, tone dry. "You?" 

She laughed loudly.

"Why, I had every member of the Kingsguard to entertain me,"

"I wouldn't put it past you," He muttered, shaking his head.

Robarra made an outraged noise, giving him a sharp slap on the arm as she walked past with their drinks, yet could not hide her laughter.

"Here, milord Stark," She made an exaggerated curtsey, offering him the goblet, which he took with an amused shake of the head. "You're lucky I didn't spit in it,"

"Thank you," He replied. 

She sat back down.

"To winning a war," Robarra raised her glass. He raised his too before taking a sip. "I would like to come to Winterfell, when all this has calmed down a little. To see Mya,"

"Aye. You'll love her," He smiled then. "She looks just like you did. Not near as obnoxious, mind, but she's very adventurous, brave too. She likes to climb, and loves horses,"

"Do you think - " She broke off. "Now Aerys is gone, and Rhaegar, perhaps I could raise her as my own?"

"You're her mother," He granted. "It's up to you. Where will you be after this is over, here?"

"I don't think so," She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like court, or this city. King's Landing makes me fat and lazy,"

"If you were fat, I'd tell you," No doubt he would.

"Either way," She laughed. "It's smothering here - a snake-pit too - and Dragonstone is so dark and grim. I could go to Storm's End, though Renly would make a better lord than me, and he's six,"

"What if Stannis has you marry again?"

"I doubt he would," The thought hadn't occurred to her. Perhaps he would? "I'd tell him to fuck off if he tried. Maybe I'll go north with you to escape such a fate," She smiled, not entirely joking. "Put me to work somewhere in Winterfell. I can muck out horses all day, and I'll be enjoying myself more than sitting around here, embroidering and gossiping,"

"I wouldn't make you muck out horses," He said, pausing. "Perhaps you can scrub the floors," 

"Still sounds better than court," She muttered. "Still. At least with Brandon as lord, you won't have that awful Ryswell girl forced on you," 

He had written to her of that possible, extremely ill-judged betrothal. Surely Lord Stark had known of Brandon's affair with that girl? If he had, it was cruel indeed, for everyone involved, to marry her to the second son.

"If Brandon forced that match, I would truly question his sanity," Ned pulled a face. "I'll have to wed at some point, though, or Rodrik Ryswell will never give up trying to force Barbrey on me,"

"Marry me, then,"

The words were out her mouth before Robarra could take them back, and wasn't sure she wanted to. She hadn't even had much wine.

Ned stared at her, as if trying to work out if she was joking. But, she realised after a moment's thought, she was not. Robarra wanted to say something else, but could not find any more words, for perhaps the first time in her life. So she simply watched him; Ned's face gave little away, as ever.

"I'm a second son," He said carefully, as if waiting for her to laugh at him, say she was joking, or hastily retract her words. "With no lands, no titles. The North is not like the south, besides - no tourneys, barely any towns, just miles of empty wilderness," 

"The south wouldn't be going anywhere," She found her voice, shrugging. "You know I like to travel, Ned. And after all this, miles of empty wilderness sounds rather appealing,"

"And," He pushed on; if she hadn't known him so well, she would be offended at his determination to put her off. "It would be me you were marrying. I'm hardly Rhaegar Targaryen,"

"Exactly," Robarra scoffed, setting down her wine and getting to her feet. He stood too, more slowly. "I actually like you. I've known you most of my life, and you're much more fun,"

"That says a lot for Rhaegar, seeing how dull you claimed I was earlier," His lips twitched.

"Oh, you know I don't really find you dull," Robarra shook her head. "I've wanted you since I was four-and-ten and you grew taller than me for the first time," His eyes widened. "Don't look at me like that," She laughed, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "I wanted a lot of other people too. But not quite as much, nor for quite as long. No one else puts up with me quite as well as you do. Now for gods sake, shut me up - either laugh me out of my own chambers, or tell me that you want me in return,"

"I - " Ned broke off, and she drew her hand back, surprised at the wave of disappointment that overcame her. But then, abruptly, he seemed to lose faith in his own arguments. "Yes,"

"Ever a man of few words," 

"I'd have to be, marrying you,"

"The nerve!" Robarra exclaimed.

That didn't stop her from rising from her chair and leaning over his, pulling him towards her for a kiss. 

"You've done that before," She accused when she pulled back.

"A kiss, aye," Ned said warningly. "Not much more than that,"

"Who have you been kissing, Ned?" She grinned teasingly, sliding into in his lap. Her grin widened at his look of surprise.

"Camp followers are as bold as you are,"

"And how bold am I?"

Robarra had flirted with him before, of course, though never quite like this. It was normally joking or teasing, which this most definitely was, though there had always been the certainty that it would never go any further. No such guarentee tonight. At least not if she could help it, though he would no doubt make up some stupid excuse about not wanting to damage her reputation. If anyone's reputation was at risk, it was his.

"Bold enough to have that look perfected," He had the nerve to roll his eyes, and she kissed him again. 

This time was less slow and tentative, and she felt his hands firmly on her waist, a thrill running through her at the sensation.

"I told you how long it had been since I first wanted you," Robarra murmured when they parted. "How long have you wanted me?" For she had known for some time, though could not pinpoint when.

He was silent for a long moment.

"It's hard to say. I didn't... suddenly realise. And I never let myself even think..." He frowned. "You were betrothed to a prince, then married to him," Oh that was just typical. Not even admitting it to himself, to spare her honour, or some other noble horseshit.

"Can I just say it was from the moment we met? For my pride's sake,"

"Fine. Though when we met we were eight, and I thought you were highly irritating," 

"Has that changed?" She grinned. He smiled back.

"Hardly,"

*

Sorry if certain aspects of this chapter seemed rushed but I wanted to avoid a blow-by-blow account of the rebellion; I've written it in more detail in several other of my stories and didn't really want to repeat myself here. Besides, Robarra isn't necessarily as politically aware as the other characters I've written from the perspective on, so I thought I'd focus more on her frustration at not being able to do anything whilst her friends and family risk their lives.

Also, apologies if you thought this chapter resulted in too happy a ending, but most of my other longer works (A Lioness Still Has Claws, An Honest Woman and The Long Winter) are hardly soft and cheerful fics; it's nice to work on something a bit more lighthearted instead of gritty and realistic. This story is simply meant as more of a fun what-if-Robert-was-a-woman, more for my own enjoyment than anything else.

Still got a few chapters left after this but please let me know what you think of this one. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!