Robert Baratheon was too worried to accomplish anything in his first days on the throne. All he could think about was the letter he received, the letter from Storm's End which told him that Lyanna was in a coma and might never wake up.
No, it can't be. This is not fair. I won the war, I did everything in my power to rescue her, I drove the spike of my hammer through the raper's black and hideous heart. It's not fair.
This fear of losing the person he loved hung over Robert's head like a dark shadow, made all the more darker by the other sorrows which hung over Robert's head but that he thought he made peace with.
It hung over him when Lord Tarth the Evenstar and his men-at-arms dragged Elia and her two children before Robert's feet.
"Your Grace, we found these three hiding in Rhaegar's living quarters. When we found them The Mountain and Ser Lotch wanted to take them and even threatened to kill me if I did not hand them to him; I suspect he wanted to collect a ransom for himself. What should be done with these three?"
Robert just barley noticed the Dornish woman and her two children standing at the foot of the Iron Throne.
"Lock them up for the time being. Don't let them escape." Robert's men did as he ordered.
Robert gave the same response when Grand Maester Pycelle was thrown at his feet, and when Lord Varys came came out of his hiding place to turn himself in. Even when Ser Jamie Lannister was brought to him, accused of oathbreaking no less, Robert still was too enclosed in his dark cloud that he just had him locked up to be dealt with later.
Robert was able to do one thing of use: he appointed Jon Arryn as Hand of the King and left him with the logistic and administrative aspects of the realm.
Robert was desperate, fearful, panicked, and ashamed all at the same time.
He prayed actual serious prayers, probably for the first time in a decade. Robert was not exactly a pious: at best he was a casual believer, but in this crisis he had nobody else to turn to.
He lit candles to all seven of the statues in the Great Sept, begging the Gods greatly not to take his Lyanna from him. He did this even after a Septon had earned a harsh shove for telling Robert that the Gods do not care about Pagans.
However, Robert thought about it. After this thought kept rolling in his head, Robert found his way into the Godswood of the Red Keep.
He knelt on both knees in front of the Weirwood tree, feeling like an unwelcome foreigner under the gaze of its carved face. However, Robert hoped that if he prayed to both old and new gods at least one of them would hear him. He didn't care which heard him, as long as he was heard.
Robert tried remembering times when he had seen Eddard pray to his Weirwood Gods, back when they were growing up together in The Eyrie. Robert's panicked mind could not piece together the specific memories, so Robert just decided to wing it.
Lowering his head, Robert made his request. "I don't know if you are there, or if you are listening to me, but I am praying to you on behalf of one of your own. Please, let Lyanna live. She didn't deserve for this to happen to her, and I don't think I could bare to live without her. Please, don't take her from me."
As Robert said this, tears squeezed out of his closed eyes. He just kept muttering 'please' over and over again as he begged for his wife's safe recovery.
"Robert?" Turning around, Robert saw that Eddard had finally arrived. Robert neither knew nor cared how much of that Eddard heard.
Instead he simply rose to his feet and went to his friend.
Before Robert could say anything, Eddard answered his question. "Lyanna is being treated by Maester Cressen. I can take you to see her."
Eddard lead Robert down the winding hallways of the Red Keep to one of the chambers. Inside, Lyanna Stark lie comatose on the bed. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were closed. While she was breathing, it was soft and shallow. The nightstand next to her bed was covered with medicines and herbs and the like.
Maester Cressen was standing nearby, using a rag to clean her forehead. He looked up and saw Robert and Eddard enter the room.
"Cressen, how is she? Please tell me she is going to be all right?!"
Cressen's was creased with sadness. "I can keep her alive for a time, but I can not say when or if she will wake up."
This was more than Robert could bare. He sat down on the ground, his back against the side of the bed, and cried. Robert Baratheon, Demon of the Trident and King on the Iron Throne, bawled his eyes out.
Robert did not get up, not in an hour and not next morning. He flat out refuses to leave the room until Lyanna's condition either got better or worse. He slept in some furs on the floor, in front of the warm hearth. Robert utterly refused to leave Lyanna's side for even a moment.
While he was there, he tried to do some of the work expected of the king. Other work, however, he could not do. The city of Kings Landing all but shut down while Robert waited for Lyanna to wake up.
Robert waited at the side of Lyanna's bed. Jamie, Elia, and her children waited under house arrest.
In the room it was just Lyanna, Robert, and the guards who stood watch over them. Servants would sometimes come in to bring Robert food, and Maester Cressen visited every day to analyze Lyanna's condition.
It was three fortnights before Lyanna finally opened her eyes.