His death was a mishap, almost certainly, and it is written that Prince Maekar always bitterly regretted Baelor's passing and marked its anniversary every year. (The World of Ice and Fire)

"How did he mark it? How did Prince Maekar mark the anniversary of his brother's death?" Stannis wondered, after Maester Cressen released them from their lesson for the day.

Robert yawned. "Who cares? Why must we learn about one tedious Targaryen after another? At the Eyrie, Ned and I were learning about Ser Artos the Winged Knight, a much more magnificent figure than these Targaryen princes."

It was a sore spot for Robert, his father's insistence that his lessons be continued even during his visits home. It was hard enough keeping up with one set of lessons, let alone two. But Father said that there were many things about his ancestors and his lands that the maester at the Eyrie would not be teaching Robert, things he must learn from his lessons with Maester Cressen.

"Artys," Stannis corrected.

Robert frowned. "What?"

"The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn, not Artos. And he was not real, not like Prince Maekar and Prince Baelor were real. He was a legend from songs and stories. He did not really live, he was not flesh and blood. He was a creation of singers and storytellers."

"Of course he was real!" Robert said, indignantly. "He rode a falcon to battle and commanded an army of giant eagles, defeating a great and mighty king called … called …. well, never mind what that king was called. The Winged Knight was real enough. He was the first Arryn to rule over the Mountain and the Vale. He … well, he -"

Robert didn't remember much else about the Winged Knight. Ned would remember more. He wished Ned was here.

"Ser Artys the Falcon Knight was the first Arryn to rule over the Mountain and the Vale, not Ser Artys the Winged Knight. The Falcon Knight was real, like Prince Maekar was real, but he never rode a falcon or commanded an army of giant eagles," Stannis said, correcting Robert again. "He was just … a man, like Father is a man."

"You think you know everything," Robert jeered. "Well, you don't." Stannis had become even more insufferable since his tenth nameday. Why couldn't his little brother be more like Ned? Even when Ned knew more or remembered more than Robert, he would never flaunt it the way Stannis often did.

I wasn't flaunting! Stannis would object. I was only telling the truth, Stannis would add.

Hard truths are never pretty, but we must face them all the same, Father was always reminding Robert.

Well, they can keep their hard truths, Father and Stannis both, Robert thought, rebelliously.

"I know what Maester Cressen taught me. And I know that we must not confuse histories with mere stories," Stannis said.

"Not everything can be found in history books. Those books don't say how Prince Maekar marked the anniversary of his brother's death, do they? Even Maester Cressen said you can't find that in any book," Robert countered, triumphantly.

"I never said we could find everything in the history books. I was just … wondering, wondering how Prince Maekar marked the anniversary of his brother's death. What did he do? How did he spend that day, year after year, until his own death?"

The look of intense concentration on Stannis' face reminded Robert of Ned suddenly, when Ned was also wondering about something. "He drank wine to forget," Robert speculated.

Stannis shook his head, strongly disagreeing. "He wanted to remember, not forget."

"He prayed, then," Robert guessed.

"Prayed for what?"

"How should I know? Prayed for his brother's forgiveness, perhaps. The gods would not forgive him his kinslaying, but perhaps the shade of Prince Baelor would forgive him."

"Prince Maekar would not have prayed for forgiveness," Stannis said, stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"Because he did not think he deserved to be forgiven."

Robert stared at his brother. What a strange boy Stannis was. Though, the discomfiting thought occurred to him later, that the remark Stannis made was something that could have come out from Ned's mouth as well. At times, Ned would surprise Robert with strange and unaccountable remarks of his own.

But Ned would have played off those remarks with a laughter, afterwards. A laughter and a smile, and perhaps a hand on Robert's shoulder. Ned would not have stood there solemnly like Stannis, solemnly and obstinately, as if waiting for Robert to acknowledge a hard truth. No, not just waiting – demanding –silently demanding. Like Father, but with fewer words.

"If you had murdered your brother like Prince Maekar did, you would not regret it at all, I'm sure," Robert said, more to needle Stannis than because he had given any real thought to what a kinslaying Stannis would do. "You certainly would not mark the anniversary of my death year after year. Or maybe you would, but not because you regret my passing, but because you think it is an occasion worthy of a great celebration. You'd drink barrels and barrels of wine and toast my grisly end at your bloody hands. You'd keep my skull too, and drink from it," he continued, with relish.

Stannis did not take the bait, for once. No outraged denial came out of his mouth this time, no 'I would not!' passed his lips, things Robert would have countered with ' You would too!' Instead, it was Robert's accusation of murder against Prince Maekar that Stannis took great issue with. "It wasn't murder. Prince Maekar did not murder his brother. He killed him, yes, but it was a mishap. He never intended to kill his brother. He loved Prince Baelor."

"Oh, love," Robert waved off the sentiment. "He was jealous of his brother, more like. Prince Baelor was better than him in everything. Even his sons were better than Prince Maekar's sons."

"You can be jealous of your brother and still love him," Stannis replied.

"Well, I'm not jealous of you," Robert said, with great emphasis. "Why should I be?"

Stannis stared at him as if Robert was the strange boy prone to coming up with strange and unaccountable remarks. "Who said you were?"