Despite being only eleven years old, Robert Baratheon was already strong enough for squires five years his senior to pause mid-sentence when they saw him swing a weapon.
Even now, years before manhood, Robert was large for his age—thick through the shoulders and carrying the dense build so common to the Baratheons. When he trained alongside the other boys at the Eyrie, most simply could not keep pace with him for long. Even Ned, stubborn as he was, struggled whenever Robert decided to stop holding back.
Robert loved Ned like a brother (or more, considering Stannis’ boorish disposition), truly he did, but sparring him was difficult sometimes due to the boy being that much weaker and slower than he was. The Stormlander often found himself forced to challenge older squires and young men-at-arms simply to feel properly tested.
Today, however, he did not have that problem at all.
Robert hit the courtyard sand hard enough for the impact to rattle through his ribs.
“Oof!” He grunted, unable to stop himself from gasping.
His training hammer flew from his grasp, spinning once before clattering several feet away with a metallic clang. For a brief moment he simply lay there, blinking upward at the cloudy Stormlands sky while his lungs struggled to get air.
Then laughter burst out of him, finding himself utterly excited about his current position.
Towering above him stood Lady Devonia.
The Inbetweener woman regarded him calmly from behind the monstrous bulk of her armor, utterly unaffected by Robert’s latest attempt to batter through her guard. Dark bronze plates encased her from head to toe, massive and ancient-looking, every surface covered in elaborate engravings and ornamentation that made the armor resemble some forgotten relic pulled from the tomb of a giant king.
And by gods, she was enormous.
Not merely tall for a woman or even a person, but enormous enough that even tallest Stormlanders seemed small beside her.
She stood easily eight feet tall, perhaps more with that absurd helm shaped like a great anvil resting atop her shoulders. The helmet’s silhouette alone made her look less like a person and more like a walking fortress. Heavy chainmail hung beneath layered bronze plating, while enormous gauntlets covered hands capable of wrapping almost entirely around Robert’s head.
And despite all that weight, she moved effortlessly.
The armor should have made movement heavy and slow, yet Lady Devonia fought with the casual ease of someone wearing simple cloth.
Even more unreal was the weapon Lady Devonia carried, now discarded for the duration of his training.
The hammer resting nearby was less a weapon and more a heavy anvil forged with a long, metal pole. Its head was broader than Robert’s chest, the bronze surface engraved with the same intricate patterns her armor had. In truth, it looked more suitable for demolishing castle gates than wielding in battle.
It was that very monstrosity of a weapon that had convinced Robert to pester Lady Devonia into agreeing to train him in the art of warhammer combat.
And now, after nearly half an hour of training, he was absolutely certain Lady Devonia was stronger than every knight he had ever met combined.
Which was incredible.
Robert rolled onto his side and pushed himself upright with a grunt, wiping sweat from his brow. His leather training armor creaked softly, damp from exertion and streaked with dirt from repeated impacts against the courtyard ground.
Lady Devonia watched him patiently.
The woman had blocked his strikes barehanded, casually redirecting him with her gauntleted arms whenever he charged in. Once she had outright caught his hammer mid-swing and pushed it aside with enough force to nearly spin Robert around entirely.
The most interesting thing about it all, however, was that Lady Devonia was a woman.
At first glance, it was difficult to notice beneath the sheer enormity of her armor. The heavy bronze plates transformed her silhouette into something more akin to a walking fortress than a person, while the massive anvil-shaped helm hid nearly every recognizable feature.
But the signs were there.
Her voice gave it away. Deep and resonant though it was, there remained something feminine beneath the metallic echo of the helm. Then there were the proportions hidden beneath the armor, though the immense bronze plates obscured most details.
Robert knew many boys would have found it humiliating to be thrown around a courtyard by a woman, being easily overpowered so completely by one even more so.
But honestly? Robert couldn’t bring himself to care even slightly.
How could he, when this was the greatest spar of his life?
Gods, she was incredible.
Every movement Lady Devonia made radiated strength and absolute confidence. Even standing still, she felt imposing in a way Robert had never encountered before.
And the longer Robert watched her, the stranger he began to feel…something.
A strange warmth kept growing inside his stomach whenever he looked at her. His chest tightened oddly whenever those golden eyes settled fully upon him through the gaps of her helm. Every time she demonstrated another impossible feat of strength, Robert found himself staring perhaps longer than he should have.
And by gods, when she swung that enormous hammer before their spar, something fuzzy happened inside him. He didn’t know what that was, but it was not unpleasant—in truth, it was perhaps the most pleasant thing he had ever felt.
“Art thou still fit to continue, or dost thou yield?” Lady Devonia asked, the woman in front of him as immovable as Storm’s End itself.
Her voice emerged from beneath the massive helm, deep and resonant. There was little emotion within her tone, yet he could almost imagine it carried an unmistakable expectation. But even if it didn’t, he found himself compelled to prove himself to the woman before him.
Around them, the training yard had grown increasingly tense.
Storm’s End retainers stood gathered along the edges of the courtyard, watching the spar with visible unease, shifting nervously whenever Robert hit the ground. While Robert’s father told everyone that it would be fine and that they shouldn’t intervene, even seasoned knights looked deeply uncertain about allowing the Heir of Storm’s End’s to continue being hurled across the yard by a bronze giantess from another land.
Robert ignored all of them, as he was having the greatest day of his life.
Groaning slightly, he pushed himself upright once more, boots scraping against the sand. Bruises ached across nearly every part of his body beneath the leather training armor, and he had honestly lost count of how many times Lady Devonia had knocked him flat over the last hour.
A lot, probably more than everyone else combined had managed over the last year.
And gods, it was glorious.
His training hammer lay several feet away where it had bounced after his latest defeat. Robert strode toward it without hesitation, snatching it from the ground before rolling his shoulders with an eager grin despite the soreness pulsing through his arms.
“Of course I am still fit!” he declared immediately. “How could I give up when I still have so much to learn?!”
For the first time since their spar had begun, Lady Devonia seemed genuinely surprised, the enormous helm titling slightly downward toward him.
“Oh?” she rumbled. “An admirable disposition.”
The bronze giantess slowly folded her armored arms across her chest, metal groaning faintly beneath the motion.
“I did observe thy realm’s so-called knights during the tourney.” she continued, voice carrying the solemn cadence. “Most lacked thy fire entirely. They struck with caution where they should have struck with conviction. Is thy spirit the vigor of youth?”
Robert snorted loudly.
“No, it’s because you only watched Reachmen there!” he declared imperiously with all the confidence only an eleven-year-old boy could possess. “Stormlanders are different! Men here are harder and stronger than anywhere else, as we grow up with thunder overhead and storms crashing against our homes every day!”
Lady Devonia regarded him silently for several long moments, then she gave a slow nod.
“I see…” She said thoughtfully, her gaze briefly shifting toward the distant sky of the Shipbreaker Bay, where dark clouds rolled endlessly across the horizon. “Indeed, this land possesseth harsher character than those fertile southern plains. Tempests and crashing seas are more fitting companions for warriors than flowers and gentle rains.”
The bronze plates along her shoulders creaked softly as she straightened to her full height.
“Very well,” she declared. “It seemeth I have judged thy people too swiftly. I shall amend my expectations accordingly.” Then she extended one gauntleted hand toward him. “Come.”
Robert grinned fiercely and charged without hesitation.
The courtyard thundered beneath his boots as he rushed forward with all the reckless courage and overwhelming enthusiasm only he could possess. His hammer rose high above his shoulder while wind whipped through his dark hair, the boy throwing his entire body into the attack with glorious abandon.
By now, he knew Lady Devonia’s habits.
The bronze giantess preferred intercepting his attacks directly, lazily batting him aside with one gauntleted hand whenever he overcommitted himself. Most of the time she barely needed to move at all, simply redirecting him with overwhelming strength before he could properly reach her.
So this time, he planned to avoid it.
And perhaps it was because he was beginning to grow familiar with the rhythm of her movements, or perhaps it was because the blood of the Stag thundered hot within his veins, stirred into frenzy by the exhilaration of battling such an overwhelming foe…
But as Robert charged, something inside him ignited.
His heartbeat boomed like thunder and the world seemed to sharpen around him. His legs became as swift as a gale and his arms were filled with newfound strength.
For one brief, blazing instant, Robert felt unstoppable.
And excitement exploded through him so fiercely he nearly laughed aloud mid-charge.
Lady Devonia moved exactly as expected—one enormous bronze gauntlet swept toward him in a languid motion, clearly intending to swat him aside once more like an overeager hound.
But Robert had anticipated it.
At the final possible instant, he dropped low beneath the incoming strike, momentum carrying him forward in a rough slide.
The massive armored hand passed inches above his head and for one glorious heartbeat, triumph surged through him.
His grin widened wildly as he twisted upward from the dodge, swinging his hammer with all the force his young body could muster. The strike flew toward Lady Devonia’s armored torso swift and reckless, Robert’s entire body blazing with exhilaration.
He knew the blow would accomplish nothing, that the hammer would bounce harmlessly from that bronze armor, but it did not matter.
He did it—
Then Lady Devonia’s other hand slammed into his side with an open-palmed strike.
Robert barely comprehended what happened next—one moment he stood before her and the next, the entire world spun violently sideways. Air vanished from his lungs as his body was pushed bodily across the courtyard before crashing directly into a wooden bench hard enough to break it. Timber exploded into splinters beneath him, fragments scattering wildly across the sand and stone.
Robert rolled through the wreckage with a strangled grunt, hammer flying from his grasp once more.
Pain erupted across nearly every inch of him, his ribs burning and his back feeling as though someone had struck it with a smith’s hammer.
Finally, he came to a stop upon the training yard sand, chest heaving desperately as he stared upward at the cloudy Stormlands sky.
That was incredible.
Somewhere nearby, men shouted in alarm.
“Lord Robert!”
Several retainers immediately surged forward in panic, horror overtaking whatever restraint they had previously maintained.
Robert groaned, trying to push himself upright through the dizziness, meanwhile Lady Devonia calmly lowered her hand.
“Very good,” The woman stated with complete seriousness. The towering bronze giantess gave Robert a shallow nod of approval, as though he had accomplished something genuinely noteworthy. “Thou didst avoid the first strike.”
Robert blinked upward at her from amidst the shattered remains of a bench, still trying to properly remember how breathing worked. Above him, Lady Devonia stood like a bronze monument beneath the storm-dark sky, utterly unmoved by the destruction she had caused.
“Now come.” she continued evenly. “Attempt it once more, so that we may determine whether thy success was born of skill or merely fortune.”
“What?!” One of Storm’s End’s older knights finally broke. The grizzled retainer stepped forward immediately, horror and disbelief written openly across his weathered face as he stared between Robert and the bronze-clad giantess. “How can you possibly expect Lord Robert to continue after that?! The boy must be taken to the maester immediately!”
Lady Devonia slowly turned her helm toward him, the movement alone carrying immense weight.
“Man lacking mettle and daring,” Lady Devonia declared dismissively, the older knight visibly stiffening beneath her gaze. “Only moments prior had I begun developing respect for thy liege’s bloodline, and now thou seekest to halt our spar the instant a worthwhile spark revealeth itself?”
The knight opened his mouth, perhaps intending to protest further, but Lady Devonia continued before he could speak, her massive gauntlet gesturing toward Robert.
“Look upon the boy, for he yet standeth ready for battle.” Lady Devonia said imperiously. “He possesseth greater strength than thy pitiful eyes can perceive.”
And as Robert slowly began regaining his bearings, he realized she was right.
His ribs burned where her strike had landed. His shoulders throbbed from repeated impacts. His back screamed from colliding with the bench, while his head still swam faintly from being hurled across the courtyard like a sack of grain.
And yet…
He had never felt more alive.
His blood still thundered hot through his veins like a storm crashing against Shipbreaker Bay. Adrenaline still surged through him in fierce waves, carrying with it exhilaration so intense it nearly drowned out the ache spreading across his body.
More importantly…
He still wanted more.
Slowly, Robert pushed himself upright amidst the shattered wood and then—
“Hahahaha!”
Laughter suddenly burst through the courtyard, loud and wildly delighted.
Every head turned in surprise, shock on their faces clear. Even Robert himself was surprised by the loud noise, only after several moments realizing the laughter was coming from him.
As he discovered that, the sound boomed from his chest again as he bent to reclaim his dropped hammer from the dirt.
Gods, that was incredible.
No one had ever treated him like this before— not the boys fostered alongside him in the Vale, not the squires training at Storm’s End, not even fully grown knights.
Everyone else always held back eventually.
Everyone else hesitated.
Everyone else treated him like a child.
But Lady Devonia? She met his strength with overwhelming force and expected him to rise afterward.
And Robert loved it.
Because deep inside, somewhere he did not yet fully understand, battle was the only thing that ever made him feel truly whole.
The crash of weapons, the pounding of blood in his ears, the joy of strength meeting strength.
And now this bronze giantess had dragged it fully into the light.
Robert straightened fully, hefting the hammer back into his grip despite the ache screaming through his arms. His chest rose and fell heavily with exertion, yet his grin only widened further, fierce and utterly exhilarated.
“Don’t listen to him, Lady Devonia!” he shouted enthusiastically, eyes practically blazing with excitement. “I’m still standing! I’m ready to continue!”
Silence followed as the retainers stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Lady Devonia, on the other hand, simply watched him in silence.
The enormous woman stood motionless beneath the darkening Stormlands sky, bronze armor gleaming dully. Her colossal form seemed almost unreal against the training yard around her, more akin to a living siege engine than a person.
Robert met her eyes, the golden orbs bright and ancient beneath the shadow of the woman’s anvil-shaped helm. They fixed upon him without wavering, neither of them moving as they stared at each other.
And once again, Robert felt that strange warmth twist inside his stomach—that odd, tightening fuzziness, now stronger than ever. It made his heart pound harder, made him want to impress her, charge forward to prove himself worthy of her attention.
Slowly, Lady Devonia gave a nod.
“These eyes…” she rumbled quietly, her voice now carrying a trace of approval. “Aye… I find them most commendable.”
Then her posture changed.
Until now, she had treated the entire spar casually, lazily swatting Robert aside whenever he attacked. She had barely shifted her footing during the exchanges, moving with the relaxed ease of someone humoring an eager child.
The bronze giantess now straightened fully, her immense armored frame settling into stance.
Robert felt it instinctively.
Lady Devonia was finally taking him seriously, even if only a little.
“Then come, child,” she declared, one gauntleted hand slowly extending toward him. “Show unto me thy mettle.”
Robert stared at her.
He stared at the towering bronze armor, at the massive gauntlets and at the gigantic hammer resting nearby like some divine weapon.
And for reasons he could not possibly begin to understand, Lady Devonia suddenly looked…beautiful.
No—
She looked magnificent.
His stomach twisted strangely again.
Robert didn’t know why, by he wanted her to remove the helm so that he could see her face. Also, he wanted her to swing that colossal hammer again.
He wanted…Robert had absolutely no idea what he wanted, only that the feeling burned hot and fierce inside his chest.
And because he was eleven years old and utterly unequipped to process emotions of that sort, he responded in the only way he knew how.
He laughed loudly.
Then charged her again with hammer in hand.
***
Maybe it’s unrealistic for only an eleven-years-old Robert to react like that, but I decided that, in the end, Robert is an Inbetweener in spirit, who was simply unlucky enough to be born in Westeros instead. Steffon walked so he could run.
And it doesn’t mean that Robert is now somehow on the Inbetweener level, or even close to that. Devonia’s reaction was due to his conviction and attitude.
Also, there was also supposed to be a Stannis part in this chapter, but Robert’s spar grew too long. Well, Stannis’ chapter was supposed to be shorter, so it will probably fit the next chapter alongside Rhaelle’s one anyway.