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AGE: 37
LOCATION: storm's end
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Dec 12 2015, 03:28 PM

<div class="appybod"><table><td>

<div class="infocat"><b> NICKNAMES: </b> Rob occasionally</div>
<div class="infocat"><b> RANK: </b> nobility </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> TITLE: </b> "Lord Paramount of Storm's End" </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> AGE: </b> 37 years od </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> REGION: </b> stormlands </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> HOUSE: </b> Baratheon </div>
<div class="infocat"><b> PLAYBY: </b> Joe Manganiello </div>

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You are born the first child of Cassana Estermont, and Steffon Baratheon - you are oldest by barely a year, but you are the oldest, and that makes you more important. You have all the humor your brother lacks - smiles, where Stannis has scowls. You two were different from the start. Stannis sees things different. He sees every facet of an issue, and obsesses over the sharp edges. You are simpler. You see the beauty and the thrill of a challenge. There is nothing you love more than overcoming an obstacle. You barrel in without thinking, and you never err on the side of caution. You are a man of action, not a man of thought, and it sets you apart from your brother nearest in age.
When you are young, games between you and your brother are stilted. Stannis longs to sort out a clear set of rules and guidelines for the fun. To him, there should always be perimeters for fun. You, however, prefer to make it up as you go. You begin the game before Stannis is convinced the guidelines have been appropriately set out. Always, he leaves in tears, and you wind up talking with your parents about manners, again. Quite unfortunately, their lessons never seem to stick.
Stannis is five, and you are six, when your father brings you to the court of the Mad King. You have heard rumors of the man, and getting to see him in person seems too thrilling to believe. Your grandmother was his kin, so that makes him yours, doesn't it? You used to wonder if you would be mad like he was. You imagine him a raving lunatic, as you have seen occasionally in the streets. Your mother always hides you from them, but you will get to face this mad man down yourself. You are disappointed when you arrive at court. There is no lunatic on the throne, but an unsmiling blonde man with jade eyes. They say his name is Tywin Lannister, and he terrifies you, even as a child. He has the air of someone who none would dare cross. You can't imagine the Mad King being more terrifying than him. You know your father has been friends with both since he was a child, but you do not see the appeal in such humorless friends.
There is no way to know that it is part of a bigger alliance, when you are sent to the Vale. You are barely more than a child when you are made the ward of Jon Arryn. You do not know that it is because he has no children to offer into the alliance of the great houses. Instead, he raises you, and Eddard Stark. At first, Ned seems every bit as dull as Stannis. He is a serious boy who smiles infrequently. But you tease him and eventually he joins you in your fun. In no time, you are closer to Ned than anyone who shares your blood. He is your comrade, your confidant, and your best friend. He is everything to you.
Jon Arryn is kind but firm. You respect him for the way he asks nothing of you without offering an explanation. He does not talk down to you, or expect blind obedience. He is calm and reasonable. You believe Lord Arryn understands you as few do. He teaches by action, and explains things in a way that you understand. He can curb you as no other seems able. You find that you crave his approval. You want to see pride in his eyes, as if he were truly your father. Under his guidance, you try, even if it is not always easy to do as is expected of you.
You are fourteen when Renly is born, and you go home to spend some time with your family, as well as to meet your new brother. Renly is small and full of smiles. He has bright blue eyes and a head of dark hair, as do all the Baratheons. You tease Stannis that your little brother already has better humor than him. The household is wrapped around the finger of the little infant, and you know you are not far behind. You adore your little brother. Before they send you back to the Vale, you promise him you will teach him to be a great warrior some day. When he is older, you vow to play games and teach him to fight. But for now, you have to leave.
It is not long after that when you are with your first woman. She is a serving girl at the Vale - no doubt enchanted by the notion of bedding the Heir of Storm's End. Even for a servant, there is hope of becoming an acknowledge mistress, rather than a chamber maid. She is not the only one - not by a long shot. Two years it carries on, before you are called home once more.
On a mission for the King, your mother and father leave for Essos. At sixteen, you are left in charge of Storm's End, under the guidance of the guidance of Ser Cortnay Penrose. You find a thrill in the power of it. You play games with Renly, and you tease Stannis as you always have. But this time, your parents aren't there to chastise you for it. Perhaps you should feel odd. Your brothers have formed a bond that you are not a part of. Stannis squired in the Stormlands, and Renly is too young to leave home. But you have been away for most of your life. Conversation is more strained with your brothers than it is with Ned, but you pay it no mind. You have never been one for caution. You barrel on in that booming voice you are developing, and you know better than to expect Stannis to thaw.
The day they return, there is a storm - a terrible one. Ser Cortnay insists that their captain is a man that is used to the bay. They will be safe, he says. You and your brothers are present to greet them as their ship draws nearer, and you are watching when the storm overturns their ship. You cry that day, though Stannis never shed a tear. He was no more one for tears than he was for smiling. It was Stannis that Renly clung too - more upset by the anxiety of his brothers than by the loss he couldn't understand. At two, only Renly was spared the pain. Your father was gone, and your mother with him. At sixteen, you are Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and you leave it behind. Ser Cortnay cares for Storm's End, and Stannis, while Stannis cares for Renly. You, however, return to Jon Arryn. You are young yet, and you are not ready to rule.
After that, things change. Jon pulls you into more meetings, and involves you in the running of the Vale. He does his best to teach you how to rule well. Ruling, however, is something you have no patience for. Ned, who would never need the lessons, warmed to them as you knew you never would. In the end, you absorbed only what you had to. Technically, what you had to absorb was everything. By your own estimation, however, it was the barest of essentials. Ruling a region was dull. It was endless hours listening to complaints that didn't concern you, and fixing fences. Couldn't you employ others to see to such tasks? It seemed such things were far better suited to Stannis - he was already a dullard.
You still remember the first time you saw Lyanna Stark. You'd known you would marry her since you were young, but you didn't meet her until the two of you were older. Before that, you had only Ned's tales to go on. He spoke little of his sister, but his words were always fond when he did. The woman who met you had a blaze in her stormy eyes. She met you with a passion you never could quite fathom, before those long lashes lowered, and her chin tipped downward. You loved that barely contained fire - if only because it was contained. You never imagined that there was more than a passion she might pass on to your children. You never thought it was something you might have to fight yourself. She always pulled herself back before it came to a disagreement between the two of you.
But you weren't celibate before you met Lyanna, and you weren't celibate afterward. You still remember the day when you learned you had a child. Mya they called her - Mya Stone. You met the girl, and Jon took her in. He gave the girl's mother a position, and saw that the girl was cared for. You were able to visit the child, tease and play with her. She knew your face, and she knew your laugh. The notion of caring for a child was beyond you. You never understood what it would truly take to raise someone. But you enjoyed the games. You enjoyed being the playmate who arrived with presents. You loved the smiles and adoration. There was a great deal you never understood about being a father, and a great deal you may never learn.
At twenty you called Storm's End home, and you reign as Lord of your birthright. There is a great deal of aid from Ser Cortnay - in truth, he does all of the hard stuff. You easily take his counsel, and you enjoy the more entertaining aspects of your position. You hunt, and you host tourney's. You travel, buy whores, and you visit your bannermen. In the end, you know little of what your title truly means.
Harrenhal is meant to be an incredible event. The great houses are all getting together, and even the Prince is rumored to be attending. You fight in the melee, and you spend time with Lyanna. She is nearly of age, and the two of you will be married soon. The thought thrills you as the notion of marriage never has. But there is something off at the event. A mystery knight in the lists - you vow to discover his identity, after he vanishes, though you never succeed in it. You feast, and you challenge Richard Lonmouth to a drinking match that you are nearly bested in, for the first time in your life.
You are at her side, enjoying the final tilt - The Sword of the Morning against the Prince of Dragonstone. Just as the rest of the crowd is, you are thrilled watching it unfold. Both are incredible riders - even you are impressed by the display. You applaud as the Prince wins, and you watch expectantly as he goes to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Your eyes are on his wife - the woman already growing large with his second child. When he rides past her, you are one of few who aren't immediately horrified. If anyone is understanding of infidelity, it is you. Your laugh doesn't even waiver as he stops before Lyanna, at your side, and deposits a laurel of blue roses in her lap. Your smile is the brightest, and your laugh the loudest. Others freeze, and gaze on with horror. But you laugh, and point out that it's well earned. There is no woman there as beautiful as Lyanna. In truth - that is the moment your patience for the Silver Prince fades.
When she comes south for the Celebration of the False Spring, you attend to see her - though the two of you spend nearly no time together. It is no matter. You feast with others, and you enjoy the event even if you regret how little you see Lyanna. Then, the same day Tywin Lannister resigns from his post, she vanishes. You take the first ship to Whiteharbor, and a horse to Winterfell. Brandon Stark meets you, as furious as you are by this turn of events. She vanished, right along with the Prince. You and Brandon are speaking of calling arms, and marching on the Red Keep. You could rally the Stormlords, and demand she be returned. But your suggestions of war do not get far. Rickard Stark comes with another version of the tale.
Lyanna's hand is being given to Prince Rhaegar. Your betrothal is broken. Rickard knew she would leave with him, and he hopes to return with her as his queen - his second wife. One lay, struggling in her bed, heavy with his child, and he takes another. You feel betrayed by Lord Stark, and furious with the Prince, but you keep it to yourself. There are still talks of war - war against the Mad King. So, your anger is forgotten. Even you see that this is more important.
When it comes to the daily tasks of ruling the Stormlands, you have no patience. You pass those duties off to another. But when it comes to war, there is none more capable than you. You rally your men, and your voice booms across the field, as if you were born for this. You feel alive as you march on the Red Keep - more alive than you ever felt before. This is your purpose. This is where you shine. The Mad King falls, in the end, and Rhaegar does, indeed, return. Lyanna is with him, and they marry within the turn of two moons. You attend their wedding. You drink, you laugh, and you celebrate, but you do not feel the thrill of it - not truly.
After that you are given a new bride - the daughter of Lord Tywin. You know he was a friend of your father, and you know it should not be an insult. But it feels like one. She is the second choice - second best. A beauty she may be, but she is as unsmiling as her father. You'd expected to see eyes of gray on your wedding day, and you are disappointed to be met with green. You know you would never love her as you would have loved Lyanna.
You are bitter and angry. You resent your life and your situation. You drink more, and you spend time with whores. You feel insulted and rejected. They are the ones that change it - a dark haired boy with your father's eyes, and a dark haired little girl with eyes of green. You love them as you have loved no other. They are what makes this life worth it. You will never love their mother as you might have loved Lyanna, but you know you love them far better. You live for your children - even Joffrey, who comes out looking just like his mother. You tell yourself that you were bound to get at least one that looked like her. You just wish she didn't coddle him so - he was turning out just like her. You do your best to prevent it, to give the boy a fighting chance, but it is no use. Joffrey is his mother son, through and through. You remind yourself that he is no less yours, and you don't let yourself hold the fact against him. If anything, it is he who eventually softens you to your wife.
The truth is, you and Cersei don't get along. Beautiful she may be, but you two are vastly different people. Without your children to bind you, it is a marriage that would quickly fall apart. Regardless of disagreements you know that she cares as much for your children as you do. It is the only thing the pair of you agree on. You give her space, and you expect little of her. She gave you two sons, and a daughter. Your house is secure, and you can get from whores what you do not crave from her. In an odd way that involves a great deal of bickering - your marriage actually works. You respect her passion and her strength, even if it is the greatest source of discord between the pair of you. Is it possible to respect something you find so wholly unappealing? Only Cersei could be such an anomaly.
LIfe continues peacefully. The Royal family is more fruitful than it ever has been before, and this change brings a peace to Westeros. House Baratheon settles into a new norm that has not been known since the deaths of Steffon and Cassana. You are not fool enough to believe you are a good ruler. You don't wish to handle the day to day tasks. You speak up when the voice of Lord Baratheon is needed, and little besides. But Stannis is good at it, you can grant the man that, even if you tease him at every opportunity. Even Renly has his part. None in house Baratheon are an island, and you like to think your house better for it. Yet, you watch your son grow, and you know he will be greater even than you. You are optimistic for the future, and that of your children.
But that was before the white raven flew.


<td><div class="infocat"><b> PLAYER: </b> nobody. nothing. </div></td>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> YOUR AGE: </b> move along</div></td>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> EXPERIENCE: </b> stop judging </div></td>
<td><div class="infocat"><b> LOCATION: </b> nothing to see </div></td>

<div style="width:280px;"><div class="vert"><div class="stormlands"> ROBERT ARLAN BARATHEON </div></div>

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