I

Steffon Baratheon knew it was the end.

His wife Cassana had already passed, impaled by a broken, jagged timber beam that had ripped through the siding of the wall. It was ironic; only hours ago, a small baby boy had ripped through her loins in the same fashion. He glanced at the sleeping baby in his arms as the wind whipped around his ship, the Windproud. The baby was his indeed, being able to sleep in such a storm as this.

They had been caught in a storm while in Shipbreaker Bay, slowly, but steadily sinking, with Storm's End just in sight. He could see the slight outlines of the rescue boats. His loyal men, coming to save their doomed lord.

He looked back down at the babe once more. It was fitting, the boy be born on the night of the worst storm in his life.

"The storm takes life and gives another," the lord murmured as he smoothed the wet bangs of the child. "Patches!"

A young fool, tattooed in motley on his face and body, appeared, shivering in the cold and appearing to be out of his wits.

"Patchface!" Steffon barked.

"Y-y-yes my lord," the fool stuttered.

"I command you to carry this baby to Storm's End, tell my son, Robert that his name is Rolan Baratheon," Steffon ordered.

"B-b-but sire -"

"No excuses!" the lord shouted as he handed his child to the man. "I'll know in the afterlife if you don't keep your word."

"M-my Lord!"

"Goodbye Patches," Steffon smiled as the ship began to tip and the mighty Lord Paramount of the Stormlands fell into the depths of the sea.

xxx

The fool was seized roughly and brought to shore at the feet of Robert Baratheon, still holding the mewling babe in his arms.

"Will someone shut that thing up?" Robert growled as he stood in front of a whimpering Patchface who was rocking on his feet back and forth.

"He won't release the child, my lord," a soldier said.

"Not the child," Robert said and lifted Patchface up to his feet. "Him!"

Patchface could barely look at Robert in the eye, muttering words to himself as he swayed.

"Speak up fool!" Robert said. "Where is my father?"

"Lord Baratheon my lord, he has fallen under the sea, my lord, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling all the way down."

"I believe he is trying to say that father is dead," Stannis Baratheon stepped forward, eyeing the fool with a sharp eye.

Robert cleared his throat gruffly, not wanting to show emotion in front of his men at his sadness of Steffon's death. "And the child?"

"Rolling, rolling, rolling, as the storms my lords," Patchface said. "Rolling, rolling, Rolan."

"Rolan?" Renly Baratheon said, peering into the swaddles where Rolan lay crying.

"Rolan," Robert repeated.

"It seems fitting that as father's life passes, another is given to us by the sea," Stannis noted. "Let us raise him as our own."

"He is no Baratheon," Robert grunted. "But you're right." He gave the child another look. "Rolan Storm. He will be your squire when he becomes of age, Stannis."

The three lords turned as Robert signaled for his men to take the fool with them, along with the baby. As the men made their way up into Storm's End, the young child, Rolan, opened his eyes of Baratheon blue.

He knew he was home.

A/N: I shouldn't start a new story, but the plot bunnies were running. It is my first time writing for GoT so please bear with me, and please, help a brother out if he needs to improve and review please!