285 AC

"Hey, unfair!" Jasper Baratheon complained to his older twin brother. "You cheated!"

"I did not." Renly looked affronted.

"Yes, you did," Jasper said, pointing behind his brother's shoulder to Renly's sworn shield, Ser Quentyn Rogers. "You had Ser Quentyn block me! I would've gotten to the post first."

"I'm afraid you would not have, brother," Renly replied, as a haughty as a boy of eight could be. "My skill far outclasses yours…"

"Your skill at cheating! I'm the faster runner and you know it." He turned to the amused knight behind Renly. "Admit it, Ser. You have intervened in our important race and disgraced your vows in the process."

"I'm afraid, my prince, that I only followed by sworn liege lord's orders." The old knight sighed with fake reluctance, even as his lips twitched.

"Ah!" Jasper grinned, triumphant. "But you admit you intervened on my brother's command. So, Renly, what say you in your defence?"

"My actions were for the good of the whole of Storm's End, of course." Renly explained seriously. "If you had won the entire household would never have heard the end of it."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "So, your motives were completely unselfish, were they?"

"Exactly." Renly flashed a bright, toothy smile. "Also, I won!"

Jasper burst out laughing and Ser Quentyn chuckled as Renly hopped from foot to foot, cheering his victory. The servants and guards of Storm's End going about their business in the courtyard looked on fondly, used to such behaviour from the two young Baratheons.

As his laughs subsided, he turned to the grizzled knight next to him. "I feel I need a sworn shield myself, Ser, to challenge you. Then, I shall win every race!"

"I look forward to the contest, my prince." Ser Quentyn smiled at him.

Renly finally calmed down enough to stop before them, red and flushed from his celebrations. His infectious grin, almost a constant feature with Renly, was fixed firmly on his face.

"A ride, Jas?" He asked.

Jasper felt a grin split his face- not quite as infectious as his brother's, but a wide smile nonetheless; he loved riding, even if Ser Cortnay would only let them ride ponies. "Race you to Lakewood Mill?"

"You're on," Renly nodded with excitement.

They both turned towards the stables, but found a tall, steel-clad knight blocking their path.

"I'm afraid, my lord, my prince, that you have your lessons with Maester Symon in ten minutes time," Ser Quentyn told them, suddenly stern.

"Can't we skip?" Jasper asked, impishly.

"Please, Ser Quentyn. Just this once, I swear it on the Seven." Renly added, his large eyes blinking, and mouth pulled into a pout.

"No, my lord," the knight of House Rogers told them. "The last time you convinced me it did not end well for any of us."

Jasper winced. Only a moon ago Maester Symon had set him, Renly and even Ser Quentyn to work copying hundreds of letters when they had not turned up to their lessons and had instead explored some of the watery caverns dotted along the cliff face next to Storm's End. His arm had ached painfully for a week. It was not a pleasant memory.

"Yes, that was… not our finest hour," Renly grimaced, scratching the back of his head gingerly.

"No, it wasn't," Ser Quentyn said, his voice as hard as iron. "We can go riding on the morrow, if you wish it. For now, though, let us make for Maester Symon's chambers."

"Actually, Ser Quentyn," a new voice spoke up from behind Jasper and Renly, "that will not be necessary."

Jasper and his brother spun round to face the newcomer. Ser Cortnay Penrose, the castellan of Storm's End and regent of the Stormlands due to Renly's age, stood before them, a hand on each hip. Ser Cortnay wasn't yet middle-aged, but several wrinkles could already be seen around his lips and eyes. He sported a full beard, the colour a fiery red, but his head was smooth, devoid of any hair. His expression was serious, though not unkind.

"My lord," he tilted his head first towards Renly, before turning to Jasper, "my prince. Your presence is required in the council chambers."

"No lessons?" Renly perked up, even as Jasper grew worried.

"Is something wrong, Ser?" he asked Ser Cortnay as the four of them began the long walk to the council chambers.

"Not as such, no, my prince," Ser Cortnay said. "But we do have a small bit of news."

That was all Ser Cortnay would say until they reached the council chambers, located in an antechamber off the main feasting hall, not long after. Within they found the rest of the council seated around a long wooden table.

Maester Symon, a hook-nosed, beady-eyed man originally from the Westerlands, was sat hunched over a sheet of parchment, writing furiously. The Maester was a hard taskmaster, his punishment a moon ago was clear evidence of this, but Jasper liked him well enough. His descriptions of wars long past were riveting, and he even found a way to make the more boring subjects, such as sums or laws, interesting.

Sat next to the Maester was the wizened Harold Mertyns, who had been the seneschal of Storm's End for close to thirty years. His hair was white and straight, just long enough so that it fell slightly over his clear, intelligent blue eyes. He bowed politely when Jasper and his brother entered.

On the other end of the table, sipping from a jewel-encrusted silver goblet of wine, sat Ser Ormund Estermont. The master-at-arms was Jasper and Renly's uncle, younger brother to their mother, Cassana Estermont. He was younger than any of the other members of the council, though he still seemed old to Jasper. He winked charmingly at his nephews, and Jasper couldn't help but smile back in response.

Ser Cortnay sat down next to Ser Ormund and gestured for Renly and Jasper to take the two remaining seats. As Jasper and Renly sat down, Ser Ormund leaned forward.

"Nephews!" He grinned at them. "How goes the day? I trust I'll you in the training yard later."

Jasper grinned; he loved learning to fight, even if he was still on the basics. "I wouldn't miss it, uncle."

"I know you wouldn't," Ser Ormund said, proudly, "And you, Renly?"

"I suppose." Renly sighed, but he suddenly grinned, casting a sly look at his brother. "But I beat Jas in our race!"

"Did you now?" Ser Ormund laughed, as Jasper spluttered in indignation.

"Renly cheated!" He said. "He ordered Ser Quentyn to block me!"

"Well, some would say he used all resources available to him and that was smart." Maester Symon intervened, as Renly smirked. "Though it was hardly honourable, my lord."

Renly rolled his eyes, while Jasper stuck his tongue out at him.

"Anyway," Ser Cortnay spoke loudly, cutting across the disagreement, "we brought you both here to talk about the future."

Jasper frowned. "The future?"

"Yes, my prince." Ser Cortnay nodded. He looked around at the rest of the council. "On the behest of your royal brother, King Robert, and Lord Stannis we have recently begun looking into possible fostering opportunities."

Jasper blinked, then his stomach lurched horribly. "For… for both of us?"

Ser Cortnay shook his head uncomfortably, though it was Ser Ormund who answered.

"No, lad," he said. "Your brother must stay and learn to rule the Stormlands. Only you will be fostered elsewhere."

"Why can't Jas stay here?" Renly asked, angrily.

"Because it is only natural to serve as a page, and then squire, for another lord." Harrold Mertyns spoke for the first time. "It provides valuable experiences- you will see new lands, my prince, experience new cultures and learn a great many things you never could inside these walls. Why, King Robert himself fostered with the good Lord Arryn and greatly enjoyed his time there."

"Exactly," Maester Symon nodded enthusiastically. "It will be a truly unique experience, my prince. By rights, you should have been sent to page a year or two ago, but we have held off until now."

"Your brother himself has commanded this, lad." Ser Ormund added.

Jasper couldn't believe his ears. He didn't want to leave Storm's End, despite the arguments the councillors were making. It was his home and he'd have to leave Renly, Ser Quentyn, Ser Ormund, Ser Cortnay- everybody! He wouldn't even have any friends at wherever he was being sent to. Why did Robert and Stannis want to send him away? He didn't see his brothers very often- Stannis a little more than Robert- so why do this? Was he being punished?

As Jasper pondered his apparent exile, Renly continued to argue. "He's my brother and my best friend! I want him to stay here. I won't have anyone to talk to!"

"I understand you will miss your brother greatly, my lord," Ser Cortnay said, as Renly scoffed, "but we have taken steps to rectify any loneliness you may feel. Many houses have approached us to foster their children here and we plan to accept at least a few."

Renly looked excited. "Who? Which houses?"

Jasper was a little hurt at how quickly Renly forgot about his predicament, but he could hardly blame him. Renly loved meeting new people.

"Mostly Stormland and Reachland houses." Ser Cortnay said. "Morrigen, Swann, Oakheart, and Crane are some of the main houses we are considering."

Jasper frowned, suddenly angry rather than upset. He was young during the siege of Storm's End, but he remembered glimpses. Stannis' grim face, Renly crying, the almost-fate of Ser Gawen Wylde, the dead, bloated corpses and the lavish feasts the Reachlords held right beneath Storm's End's very walls, only just out of archer range. Most of all, however, he remembered the crippling, painful sting of hunger, a constant for all within the castle for months.

"Reachland houses?" Jasper asked bitterly. "Why would you invite them within this castle?"

Ser Cortnay looked at him in surprise. "It does no good to hold onto such resentment, my prince."

"Perhaps almost starving the boy to death is appropriate cause for such resentment, Ser," Ser Ormund said, with a glower.

"Years in the past, Ser Ormund," Maester Symon said. "We must look to the future."

"Aye," Ser Cortnay agreed, "and it does the young lord good to befriend those from neighbouring kingdoms. We cannot dwell on past grievances."

"You weren't here, Ser, nor were you, Maester," Harrold Mertyns said, his gravelly voice pained. "I remember what they did to us, how we all suffered, including the boys. The pile of corpses we burned every day got so high one night it almost reached the top of the walls. I remember the banner of golden cranes belonging to House Crane amongst that great host, aye, and the oak leaves of Oakheart, too. It does us no good to forget so easily, I think."

"That said, Harrold, we must move on and will treat the houses who have approached us with respect." Ser Cortnay snapped, leaving no room for argument.

"I want to meet new people!" Renly grinned. "It's not their fault anyway, they were just following Lord Tyrell- and he was just following his King."

"The Mad King," Jasper said harshly. "How have you forgotten the siege so easily?"

"It was ages ago- gods, you sound like Stannis." Renly said, waving a careless hand.

"But-"

"Enough, my prince," Ser Cortnay said, sternly. "It has already been decided. You shall leave in a moon's turn and we shall welcome the young sons of many lords of the realm into this castle."

Jasper gulped nervously. He only had another moon's turn inside his home, at least for many years. That wasn't long enough, not even close.

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke up again.

"Will you at least tell me where you're sending me?"

It was Maester Symon who answered.

"On that, my prince, you have a choice." The Maester said. "We have received many offers since it was made known you would be fostered out. We have narrowed it down to those more politically… desirable."

"Which places, exactly?" Jasper asked, impatiently.

"Oldtown to serve Lord Leyton Hightower- a truly magnificent place, if you don't mind my saying so," The Maester answered. "The other two are Runestone and Lord Yohn Royce or Duskendale and Lord Renfred Rykker."

Jasper sat back and considered. After all it was the most important decision so far in his short eight years of life.

He could see why each had been chosen- hugely powerful houses, the most powerful bannerman in their area, but not Lord Paramounts, so as not to offend the other Lord Paramounts. Obviously no Dornish houses- he'd be poisoned within the hour-, nor Ironborn Houses (that would just be ridiculous) and the North was too far and had few knights besides, but the exclusion of the Westerlands and Riverlands was more interesting. The Riverlands perhaps had no clear frontrunner between the bannerman so, as not to offend any Riverlords, they'd decided not to pick any Riverland house. The same could be true of the Westerlands, but then again there was plenty gold in sending him to somewhere like Silverhill or Ashemark and houses Brax and Crakehall could easily field the most men out of the Westerland bannermen, so it was not quite the same as the Riverlands. It could be that someone did not want to send him to the Westerlands- Lord Arryn, perhaps his brother, Stannis, or even Robert? Honestly, he didn't know, and his eight-year-old brain hurt from thinking about it too much.

So, where did he want to go? Not Oldtown, that was for sure. As great as it would be to see the second biggest city of Westeros, with the Hightower, the Starry Sept and the Citadel, living in the Reach so soon after the siege left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't quite hate the Reachmen, but he also didn't want to go there, at least not yet. So really it was between Runestone and Duskendale. Duskendale, as a city, sounded more interesting and its proximity to King's Landing and his brothers was a positive but then again… he had heard rumours of Lord Yohn Royce's exploits during the rebellion and he was a renowned tourney knight. If he wanted to be the best, he would have to learn from someone like that. And hadn't Robert said the Vale was one of the best places in the world?

All in all, he came to a decision rather quickly.

"Runestone," he said. "I want to go to Runestone."

o-O-o

Jasper stared out the small window. His room faced inland, so it was endless hills and rocky outcrops he saw, rather than the ferocious seas of Shipbreaker Bay. He preferred it that way after Stannis had told him what happened to their parents.

Sighing, he looked away and stepped back into the middle of his room. It was a large chamber, with yellow and black draped bed, a low, wooden desk, and several large wardrobes fixed into the wall opposite the bed. A smattering of toys, from wooden swords to crude carvings of animals and people, were stacked in the far corner, recently tidied by the servants.

A quiet but incessant knocking on his door wrenched him from his reverie.

"Come in," he called and was unsurprised when Renly marched his way in, Ser Quentyn at his back.

"Jas," he nodded in greeting. Renly looked around, looking unusually nervous and unsure of himself.

"Anything you needed, brother?" Jasper asked, weariness lacing his tone.

"I, er, just wanted to see how you were doing," Renly told him.

Jasper tilted his head, a little touched. "Not great, I suppose, but I'll be okay. Runestone might be fun."

"It will be!" Renly assured him. "You've always wanted to learn from the best and Lord Royce is pretty close to that. Still, it will be boring without you here, even with the others coming."

"I didn't know you rated my presence so highly, brother," Jasper smiled.

"Well, most of the time you're very annoying, of course," Renly began.

"Of course," Jasper agreed, smirking.

"But, at the same time, you can be fun to play with." Renly said, before adding, "And you're my brother."

"Yeah," Jasper looked down, frowning again. "I'm going to miss Storm's End."

"You'll be back soon," Renly said with optimism. "And at least at Runestone you won't have to deal with Harrold's bad breath!"

Jasper giggled. "And no cheaters, too."

"Hey!" Renly said with fake annoyance, still grinning. "Unfounded accusations!"

"I'm afraid, my lord," Ser Quentyn said with apparent reluctance, "I must disagree. It was cheating, plain and simple, I admit it."

"Ser Quentyn!" Renly cried, with hurt. "How dare you, Ser!"

"Even your sworn knight admits it!" Jasper crowed happily.

Renly clutched the skin and cloth above his heart. "Betrayal!" He called loudly, falling to the ground. "Cruel betrayal! It hurts, by the gods, it hurts!"

Jasper laughed along with Ser Quentyn, but he couldn't keep the sadness from his expression completely. In just a moon's turn Renly's jokes and laughter would be in the past and he would be left entirely on his own.

o-O-o

The entire household gathered to see Jasper off.

He stood before his brother and the gathered staff in the large stone courtyard. Behind him, waiting on their horses, was Ser Nestor Mallery and his squadron of twelve guards tasked with escorting him as far as King's Landing, where he would take ship to Runestone. It had been decided he wouldn't sail directly from Storm's End; Shipbreaker Bay was too dangerous, his parent's deaths proved that. At least he was allowed to ride a proper horse to King's Landing. It was a small horse, but still, it was an improvement.

"Well…" he began, before Renly hurtled forward and tackled him with a hug.

"I'll miss you, Jas," Renly murmured into his neck.

"And I you, brother," Jasper vowed, hugging him back.

They broke apart a few seconds later and smiled awkwardly at each other. Jasper coughed a few times and turned to Ser Ormund.

"Best be ready, uncle," he warned the Estermont. "When I return I shall beat you handily in each and every spar."

Lord Ormund laughed heartily. "I look forward to it, my prince."

By the time he'd bid goodbye to Ser Cortnay, Maester Symon, Ser Quentyn, Harrold Mertyns and a dozen others it was mid-morning and they needed to begin the journey. With a final wave to the people he'd been surrounded by and grown up with his entire life, he rode out of Storm's End's main gate with thirteen men at his back.

As they crested a hill a few miles away, he turned and gazed upon the glory of his childhood home with tear-filled eyes. He studied it searchingly, trying to memorise its every detail; the massive outer curtain wall of pale grey stone, near one hundred feet high; the great tower, so tall that it seemed to reach the very clouds; the furious waves below, a clear blue that shone brightly in the sun, both dangerous and beautiful.

He swore, on the Old Gods and the New, that he would return as soon as he could, a better and stronger man. It was his home.

But for now, he turned his back on Storm's End, kicked into the flanks of the small horse below him and set off for King's Landing.