#sweetqueue

The crown on his head felt heavier than it really was. Growing up he was engulfed by the stories of the Kings of the Mountains in the time before Targaryen rule. It was surreal to think that out of anyone it was H I M who bore the crown again, after so many had thought him unworthy of his title.

ROBERT ARRYN, FIRST OF HIS NAME, KING OF THE MOUNTAIN AND PROTECTOR OF THE EAST.

He would have preferred there be no coronation but his newly appointed hand; Yohn Royce, had reminded him that the event was more for his people than for him. long live the king of the mountain.

The banquet that followed was far more well received. They had just won a battle against the dead and negotiated their freedom from the crown; many of the people of the Vale and their allies were thrilled and the Eyrie had never before been filled with so much life. It was as if it were another castle entirely.

Cerulean optics lingered over one of his guests as his feet carried him over to Trysta’s side. “I’ve never seen them so...” he couldn’t really find the words. With all their honor and determination the people of the Vale were often considered serious. This was different.

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IT WOULD BE THE END OF YOUR HOUSE.

Solemn words of truth for sure. There would be a few Lords to dispute the union; house pride seemed endless in Westeros. Yet there was no denying the benefits not just politically but personally as well.

Even now, with the dream of spring approaching, he was still uneasy about his own well-being. He held the same expectations to marry and open himself up to someone who may or may not have his best interest at heart. His experience with the death of his mother simply as the next step to a power play, was one of the many lessons from Little Finger that kept with him. What was to stop another aspiring house from making a union and pushing him out the moon door the moment he was vulnerable? Or to poison him again for control?

There was a slight impression of being assessed as he tried to imagine what others might advise about the matter.

Their different paths, which intertwined from time to time, and their journeys shared many similarities.; oppressed, abused, and battling to stay alive. Yet here they stood. Two many thought wouldn’t survive that messy game of thrones.

It almost seemed like a silent exchange, as cerulean orbs fell to her, knowing without a doubt, no harm would come to him if they stood side-by-side. He knew that without a word to be said and he only hoped the same message was conveyed to her as well. Perhaps even more than that, they could enjoy their lives in some capacity.

“I already find myself farther and farther away from The Vale,” he admitted. Words were spoken almost as if with a broken heart. He loved the Vale and its people but it was difficult to shed the negative memories that were also associated with it. For him, at least, the start of everything going well for him came from Winterfell the moment Petyr Baelish’s throat was slit.

“My father was desperate for an heir because he didn’t want the branch of his tree to end with him,” he mused on the story Lady Royce had told him on more than one occasion. “So he chose my mother...look what that got him.”  He remained silent for a moment waiting until the words came to him.

— ROBERT “ROBIN” ARRYN.

Robin is very emotionally and spiritually dependent on the people he trusts. Without one of these people in his company he is often noted for being bland and cold. A lot of this has to do with how his mother was raising him and in turn how others would treat/look at him. Those he trusts are the people who sought out his well-being despite his actions as a boy.

HE’S BEAUTIFUL ISN’T HE?

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