a second to his own, nonpareil in a time like so. so used to others besieging and chivvying, whether it members of his royal council, the people, or his father; no one ever was appeased, no two people ever seeing eye-to-eye. he felt much like a parent in this time, watching on as his children quarreled, looking to him to solve all of their disputes, and fussing when his solutions opposed their ideals. but, he had no answers, no longer much aim. he was tiresome, anyone who saw him months before would be quick to acknowledge the growing bags underneath his eyes, making his pale skin appear even more washed out than what was considered wonted. who knew having such a heavy title would be so draining? anyone did, really, as would he if his vision had not been subdued by his fatherâs.
his father made a majority of his decisions, but would send all inquiries his way, just as he once did with his castellan when he was the ruling lord. his father wanted him to understand his role, how the people of the riverlands needed him, they relied on him to listen, to hear them. but every time he would make a promise or accept a request, his father would hear and break or deny, telling him what he would do instead. his father never failed to rebuke his thoughts or decisions, stating they were only corroborations of his stupidity as they would lead their kingdom in the way of which he intended, but not the way he was meant to follow; antithetical to the laws they had inflicted thus far.
the river king was departing from the septa after saying his prayers and making his peace, two guards planted at his backside when he heard one tumble down. he quickly turned to see what had happened, only to discover he had tripped over his own foot. instead of badgering the man, insisting he serve worthless in his position as he could not even stand on his own two feet, he extended his hand and helped him return to them, not saying a word in response to the incident. brynden knew all too well what it was like being vociferated for each and every mistake he had made. when he turned back to continue along the path his eyes would fall low, meeting those of another as they stood before him.
  Was it inappropriate to wait outside a sept for a fellow member of royalty so that he could discuss political machinations? Perhaps, but the Seven would have to forgive him. Many a men did far worse things than that, and that was the least of the possible sins Robin could commit. Smiling as he watched the River King emerge from the sept and began making his way towards him, he noticed as one of his guards tripped stumbled over his own feet, and how fast he was to help them get back to their feet. Evidentially, he was kinder then some, Robin knew of many who would publicly scold their guard for such a slip up. Making his way back towards Brynden, he stopped once they had made eye contact with each other. Giving a slight nod of his head, in a sign of respect.
  âKing Brynden, your grace, it is a pleasure. I am Prince Robin Arryin of the Vale, secondborn son of King Alfrid. I was hoping to make your acquaintance, and if you have the time to discuss several things with you about the future of our kingdoms. We are after all neighbors and together our kingdoms have done amazing things in the past, my own mother is born from the Riverlands, she was a member of House Whent before marrying my father.â Robin was hoping to speak with the River King, and achieve the beginnings of an alliance with them, it was his hope to get an operating pact between all the independent kingdoms so that together they could stand against any aggression from the Iron Throne.
