Why were Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark friends?
Table of Contents
I. Introduction: A Reflection by Robert Baratheon
The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros have never been short of tales filled with valor, treachery, love, and loss. I am Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. My path to the Iron Throne was not laid with gold or birthright, but with blood and rebellion, and by my side, as constant as the Northern Star, stood my truest friend, Eddard Stark. We are not bound by blood, yet the ties that bind us may be stronger than any family bond. We were brothers in arms, in values, and in the deep trials of life. This tale is not of war and power, but of brotherhood and an unfathomable friendship that was born amidst the unforgiving tempests of our shared destiny.
II. How We Met and Formed A Brotherhood
Our paths first crossed under the watchful gaze of Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, a man whose honor could match the high walls of his mountain fortress. I was but a young stag then, newly orphaned, carrying the heavy mantle of the Baratheon name. Eddard, the quieter of the Stark brood, had a northern calm about him, an innate strength that seemed to flow from the icy rivers of his homeland. Jon Arryn, in his wisdom, saw it fit to foster us together, two young lads learning the harsh realities of nobility under his steady hand.
But it was not merely the shared instruction under Jon Arryn that brought us together. It was the shared values we learned at his knee: honor, loyalty, and the weight of responsibility. There was a day, I remember, when we had to defend a smallfolk's village from raiders in the Vale, merely lads playing at war. But as we stood, shoulder to shoulder, shields interlocked against a common foe, it was clear. The boy from the North was not just a friend; he was my brother.
III. The Betrothal to Lyanna and Its Impact
My heart first beheld the radiant Lyanna Stark during a chill Northern summer. I was bewitched. Lyanna, the she-wolf of Winterfell, was unlike any other maiden in the Seven Kingdoms, as wild as she was beautiful. Eddard's sweet sister was to be my wife. Our families rejoiced; our union was not just a political match but a joining of hearts. And through it, Ned and I were to become more than friends - we were to be bound as family.
Our betrothal was celebrated with the grand tourney at Harrenhal. The great castle had never seen such festivity. The lords and ladies of the realm watched as I bested Richard Lonmouth, my laughter echoing off the ancient stones. Every victory was sweeter, for Lyanna watched, and every cheer was shared with Ned, my brother-in-arms. The joy of those days, when we dreamed of a future unbeknownst to the shadows that lay ahead, is etched in my heart, as clear as the blue winter roses that Lyanna loved so dearly.
IV. Lyanna's Kidnapping and the Spark of Rebellion
Our days of laughter and joy were abruptly ended when the dragon prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, made off with my betrothed, my Lyanna. My heart was a tempest, filled with fury and despair. Eddard, too, shared my wrath, for it was his blood that had been slighted. And when the Mad King, in his twisted sense of justice, claimed the lives of Eddard's father and brother, our sorrow turned into a resolve as hard as Northern ice. This injustice sparked a flame that the Mad King would come to regret.
Together, with our mentor Jon Arryn, we led a rebellion against the dragon's rule. Every raven, every clash of swords, every council of war - we shared it all, bound by a mutual quest for justice and retribution. Our bond, in the crucible of this rebellion, hardened into the strongest Valyrian steel.
V. The War and the Strains on their Friendship
As the rebellion raged, I faced Prince Rhaegar on the ruby-strewn fields of the Trident. With the fury of the storm, I struck him down, but my victory was marred by the loss of my beloved Lyanna. Even as I emerged victorious, my heart was defeated, a hollow shell echoing with the ghost of Lyanna's laughter.
In the aftermath, Ned and I disagreed on a matter most grievous - the brutal deeds of Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane. I, eager to stabilize the realm and to reconcile with powerful allies, chose to pardon them. But Eddard, ever the embodiment of Northern honor, could not see past their crimes. Our friendship wavered then, as the North and South winds clashing amidst a storm. Yet, our bond weathered this tempest, surviving, but forever bearing the marks of that strain.
VI. The Aftermath of the Rebellion
With Lyanna lost to me and the realm in chaos, I was urged to marry Cersei of House Lannister. It was a match of political convenience, an alliance needed to bring order to a war-ravaged kingdom. This decision further distanced me from Eddard, forcing him back to his Northern stronghold as Warden of the North. I yearned for the simpler times, for the camaraderie we shared before crowns and politics marred our bond.
Despite being surrounded by brothers of my own blood, it was Eddard I saw as my true brother. Stannis and Renly were but shadows compared to the Stark's northern light. Stannis served loyally during the rebellion, and Renly was given Storm's End, but their love was as changeable as a summer storm. "Ned," I would often tell him, "You were the brother I chose." For it was not blood, but shared trials, shared victories, and shared losses that made us brothers.
VII. Robert's Reign and the Tolls of Kingship
With the Iron Throne came an unenviable burden of ruling seven quarrelsome kingdoms. I, who was happier with a warhammer in hand than a scepter, found solace in wine, sport, and the company of women. There were times, amid the raucous laughter of a feast or the heat of a tourney, when I could forget the duties of a king and remember the days when I was just Robert Baratheon, a lordling with a quick laugh and a thirst for life.
The debt of the kingdom grew like a weed, spreading its tendrils into every corner of the treasury. Half of it was owed to the golden lions of Casterly Rock, a truth that was as bitter as a Dornish red. Yet, in my revelry and my negligence, I left the management of the realm to my Small Council, led by my former mentor, Jon Arryn.
VIII. The Scandal and Jon Arryn's Death
The gleaming facade of my marriage hid a rotting core. My queen, Cersei, bore me three golden-haired children, a constant reminder of the debt owed to her house. Yet, unbeknownst to me, they were fathered not by a stag but a lion. My true seed was sown in the bellies of tavern wenches and pretty maids, resulting in a brood of bastards spread across the realm. Gendry, Barra, and others, unacknowledged yet unmistakably mine.
When Jon Arryn died, under circumstances most suspicious, my world shuddered. He had been investigating the lineage of my 'children', and his sudden demise hinted at treachery. Left adrift, I knew there was but one man I could trust to unravel this tangled skein.
IX. Conclusion
I decided to ride North to Winterfell, the icy fortress of my brother in all but blood. I sought not just his service as Hand of the King, but the companionship that I yearned for in the heart of a treacherous court. Our friendship has weathered battles, disagreements, and loss, becoming as enduring as the Wall that protects his Northern home.
In this game of thrones, amidst shifting loyalties and fatal ambitions, our bond stands unbroken. Ned Stark is more than my Hand, more than a fellow rebel, and more than a fellow ward of Jon Arryn - he is the brother I chose. Our shared history, our shared values, and our shared losses form a bond that is as strong as Valyrian steel. And as the winter approaches, I am grateful, for I know that the Wolf of Winterfell stands with the Stag of Storm's End, come what may. Our friendship, like the Winter, is here, enduring and unyielding.
