The tempest that swept across the sea and over Storm's End had been particularly savage. Neither Robert nor Stannis could remember one so fierce, although Maester Cressen assured them that there had been many that could rival it in ferocity, and a few that had been worse.
Storm's End lived up to its reputation, however, and although it had been buffeted by powerful winds and savage waves, the castle stood as strong and impervious as it ever had on the edge of the bay. The three day storm hadn't left the rest of the land in as good a shape. Mighty trees had been uprooted in the forest, and wood and shoreline alike were strewn with different sorts of debris.
Stannis had woken early, as the sun had just started to rise. He wanted to see what kind of havoc the storm had brought to his father's land. His brother Robert had surprised him by being awake as well. Robert hardly ever woke before him, and was usually sullen and moody if his sleep was disturbed. Today was different, however and Robert seemed more willing than ever to get out of the keep.
Stannis wasn't entirely surprised about that. Three days of being cooped up inside Storm's End had made Robert restless. There were only so many of the girls that Robert could flirt with before he grew bored and wanted to hunt or practice fighting. Stannis had seen him practice in the training yard enough to know that it was hunting he yearned for now.
Robert grabbed his bow and quiver, along with his favorite dagger and a sword. Stannis joined him with his own bow and quiver, though he wasn't nearly as good as his brother with a bow. The sword seemed a bit like overkill to him, but he wasn't going to say anything. If Robert wanted to carry all that around, let him.
The two boys slipped out of the gates, sneaking past the guards. They weren't supposed to go outside the keep without a proper escort, but neither of them wanted to be bothered with the extra annoyance. Stannis knew if they were found out, they would be scolded and punished…but his curiosity outweighed his caution. Plus, there was no stopping Robert once he had made up his mind, and if Robert got into trouble, at least he would have Stannis for backup.
Stannis fully expected Robert to be this excited, from the wide grin on his face. What he didn't expect was for Robert to turn to the shoreline instead of the forest. Robert didn't care much for the sea, as Stannis did. He'd rather go into the forest to spend his time trying to track down something he could shoot with an arrow or gouge with a sword.
"Come on, hurry up!" Robert called back to Stannis, impatience coloring his cheeks and making him irritable. Stannis gritted his teeth and picked up his pace as best he could to match his older brother's stride. Once down to the edge of the sea he saw the reason for Robert's excitement, though they were half buried in the sand.
Two bodies of unfortunate sailors had washed ashore sometime during the storm. As the two Baratheon boys drew closer, the stench of the dead flesh permeated the sea air and Stannis had to cover his nose in revulsion. He stopped at that point, but Robert walked right up to them. Once close enough he too covered his nose, but then laughed.
"Boy do they stink! I never thought dead people would smell so bad," Robert mused as he looked back at Stannis.
"Did you think they'd smell of roses?" Stannis replied irritably. He didn't particularly want to stare at dead bodies…but then again he didn't get to see too many of them and he was still a boy of only nine. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the bodies, despite the smell.
They weren't much to look at, in all honesty. Bloated and pale they hardly looked human anymore. Something looked like it had started eating one of the dead men, a sea creature of some sort. It had gone for the choicest part of the body, the eyes. Stannis couldn't decide if the sightless stare of the man who still had his eyes was worse than the dead, hollow holes of the other.
His attention returned to Robert when he started poking the eyeless man with a piece of driftwood. The skin puckered and then split. Robert laughed and Stannis frowned again.
"Let the dead rest Robert," he growled. The dead wouldn't mind, he was certain, but it seemed disrespectful to their memory regardless. Stannis had a feeling their father would disapprove…but then again Robert wouldn't have done such a thing if their father had been around.
"Seven hells Stannis, you're as stuffy as Maester Cressen! Come on, have a poke yourself!" Robert laughed and tossed the stick at Stannis. Stannis ducked the piece of wood and scowled.
"Fine then, let's go into the forest. There's gotta be some fresh game tracks because of the storm! I bet we could even find a stag or two! Wouldn't father be proud?" Robert laughed again, and then walked past Stannis, leaving the bodies. His curiosity had been satiated on the matter of dead sailors and he was on to other things.
"Shouldn't we tell someone about the bodies?" Stannis asked as he followed Robert towards the edge of the forest, casting one last look over his shoulder at the corpses.
"And lose our best chance at the hunt?" Robert scowled at him, as if he was the stupidest person alive. Stannis sighed and followed his oldest brother. He knew when to argue with Robert, and when to give up. His brother was insufferable sometimes. The bodies would still be there a few hours from now. He would inform someone when they returned to the keep. He would be punished for sneaking out without an escort, but it seemed only right to let someone know regardless…and it might abate his guilt a little.
Stannis followed Robert into the forest where the smell of the storm, salt and sap hung heavy in the air. He marveled at how many trees had been torn to pieces by the storm. Everywhere he looked branches were torn, snapped, and bare of leaves. The weakest trees had been uprooted and had fallen. Most ended up leaning against other trees in the vicinity, but a few had crashed to the earth, leaving deep divots where they had fallen.
The going was slow and tedious. Several times he and Robert had to scale one of the larger, fallen trees to get to the other side. Trying to be quiet was almost impossible with the amount of branches and twigs that littered the ground before them. The leaves and debris from the storm covered the earth, and the mud that Robert was relying on to find the tracks of animals. It didn't take long for him to get frustrated and start cursing the gods for the storm. Stannis didn't mind so much. He was learning to respect the power that the weather held over the land…and he doubted the gods had much, if anything, to do with the storm that had ravaged the land.
"Hush!" Robert hissed suddenly and Stannis stopped short, as not to run into his brother. He slowly peered around Robert, but saw nothing of interest. With a small scowl he almost opened his mouth to ask what Robert had stopped them for, when this time he heard the noise that Robert had stopped for.
Something was moving in the bushes ahead. Robert drew his dagger slowly, while Stannis fumbled a little with his own bow. He nocked an arrow, and kept the arrow pointing at the forest floor. Stannis didn't live by Roberts 'shoot first, ask questions later' policy.
Both brothers crept slowly up to the bush, but Robert saw what it was first, and laughed suddenly and loud enough that Stannis started in surprise.
"It's just a goshawk," Robert waved his hand, as if this was nothing. Stannis moved around his brother and peered into the bush where his brother had spotted the bird. His brows knit together as he spied the creature, and then returned the bow to his shoulder and the arrow to the quiver.
"It's wounded," he noticed. A tree had fallen on the other side of the bush, and one of the branches had crushed the wing of the goshawk. It lay trapped beneath the tree, half in the bushes, and hopelessly stuck. Stannis could see the feathers on the chest of the bird rise and fall rapidly as the wide, golden eye regarded him with terror. Black and yellow, the colors of his sigil.
"The wing's been snapped. It'll never fly again," Robert stated as he moved closer to the bird with his dagger. Stannis saw that he meant to kill the hawk with his blade and moved before he had even fully made up his mind. He plowed into Robert, taking him by surprise and knocking both of them to the forest floor. Robert cursed at him as they hit the ground and pushed him away.
"Are you a fool Stannis? It's just a crippled bird!" his face was red with outrage…although Stannis did not know if his brother was angrier at being pushed over by a younger sibling, or that he didn't realize it was coming.
"Leave it be! It might yet fly!" Stannis cried, just as angry as his brother was. What right did Robert have to kill the bird? "It might be good for hawking, once it's healed!" he protested as Robert brushed the sticks and dirt off of his clothes with a scowl, searching the ground for the dagger that had gone flying when Stannis had tackled him.
"Seven hells Stannis," Robert started, but something in Stannis's face stopped him from scolding his brother further. It might have been the set of his jaw, or the furrow of his brow, or maybe just the sheer determination that radiated from his whole stance. For once, Robert Baratheon didn't push his brother any further.
"Fine, let's get the damned thing back to the keep," he muttered sourly, offering his brother a hand to get him out of the mud. Stannis got to his feet, defiantly ignoring his brothers hand, which didn't do anything to improve Roberts mood.
In a huff, the oldest Baratheon boy knelt down and attempted to untangle the wounded hawk from the branches. Talons flashed and suddenly Robert was bleeding from a long, but shallow gash in his arm. He cursed and sputtered and glared at Stannis, as if it were his fault that the hawk had reacted so.
"If you want it so much, you can bloody well take it back yourself!" Robert stormed off, back towards the castle, holding his injured arm and taking what little pride he had left with him.
Stannis looked at the goshawk before him, still entangled and frightened…and for once he felt a small smile creep easily onto his face.
"That wasn't very kind. He was trying to help," he told the hawk, feeling slightly silly for talking to an animal that did not understand him…but Robert wasn't here to judge him, or laugh at him and that made him feel a little better. "Although he did deserve it for trying to kill you," Stannis admitted a moment later, the smile growing a bit larger.
He unattached his cloak from his back and knelt before the hawk. Stannis was infinitely more careful then his brother was, and managed to wrap the injured bird in his cloak before it could get its talons into him as well. When he lifted it from the ground, however, its head darted forward and it sunk its sharp beak into the soft webbing of his hand between the thumb and first finger of his left hand.
The smile fled from his face and he hissed in pain, but he did not curse or sputter like Robert, nor did he jerk back from the pain. He managed to keep still, knowing that if he moved too quickly, he might injure the bird worse.
"That hurts," he told the hawk through gritted teeth as he frowned and stared into the large, golden eyes. Neither boy nor bird moved for a long time, and finally the hawk released his hand. He quickly wrapped the bird to his chest as gently as he could, and pulled a bit of the cloak over its head. Covering the eyes calmed other birds of prey, and it worked with this one too. Stannis started back home, walking slowly as not to jostle the goshawk in his arms.
"You're going to fly again, I know it," Stannis whispered so softly that he barely heard his own voice.
He could feel the steady heartbeat of the bird through his jerkin, and his mouth twitched upward a little. This was going to be his hawk, and once it healed, he bet it would be one of the best hawks they had. His hawk might even beat Robert's favorite…and he might even see pride in his father's eyes that was so often only reserved for Robert; pride that this time was meant for his second son.
"Proudwing…that's a good name for you," he decided. As if in acknowledgement of its name, the hawk turned its head toward his voice. Stannis allowed himself to smile for the second time that day.
