At the tourney celebrating Aerys II Targaryen's tenth anniversary on the Iron Throne
King's Landing, 272 AC
It began, Steffon thought, with Aerys' master of ships Lucerys Velaryon making a remark about Tywin Lannister's golden twins.
No, he understood later, it actually began in the king's own twisted mind, with the king's unpredictable whim and caprice holding full sway, and most of all, with the king's determination to humble his Hand, "to put Tywin Lannister in his place," at the forefront.
What could not be disputed was the fact that before Lord Velaryon made his remark about Jaime and Cersei Lannister, about how Twyin Lannister must be eagerly looking forward to the day when his beautiful twins were old enough to serve at court, Aerys had not been paying the slightest attention to the sons of Steffon Baratheon and his lady wife.
"Your daughter serving as one of our gracious Queen's ladies-in-waiting, perhaps, as your lady wife once served, Lord Twyin," Velaryon continued, laying particular emphasis on the word served, as if he was deliberately trying to evoke, for everyone listening, the scurrilous old rumors concerning the reason for Lady Joanna's abrupt dismissal from Queen Rhaella's service.
"And your son, of course, as a royal page serving our beloved King, Lord Tywin," the master of coin interjected. He turned to the king. "That would please Your Grace, would it not, to honor your lord Hand with appointments for his children?" Qarlton Chelsted asked, his voice sounding as fake as the cries of delight coming from a cheap whorehouse.
("If this is life at court, with all the back-biting, the two-face and the false words, then I am glad that you are well out of it," Cassana would say to her husband later, in the privacy of their bedchamber. "Do the lords Velaryon and Chelsted believe that the king would set either of them in Lord Tywin's place, if they whisper enough poison in his ear?"
"Velaryon is proud enough of himself, and of his House, to believe that," Steffon replied. He still recalled Lucerys Velaryon whispering in his ears during Aerys' coronation, voicing his disapproval about Tywin's appointment as Hand of the King.
"Velaryon and Baratheon, those are the Houses most deserving of that honor. Our two Houses have proven our loyalty and leal service to House Targaryen again and again, since the days of Aegon the Conqueror. Who are these Lannisters? They came late to the Conqueror's cause, and they have not had a rich and long history of serving Targaryen kings as trusted councilors and advisors. Why, your own lord father served as Hand to King Jaehaerys, before his untimely death."
If he closed his eyes, Steffon could still see, clearly, his father's face when he read the letter telling him of his appointment as Hand, could still hear the relief in Ormund Baratheon's voice when he said, "The taint of treason and disloyalty will finally be washed clean from our House. I will serve the king loyally, with my life if need be."
No, the Baratheons no longer had the right to expect honors from the Iron Throne as a matter of course, as if it was their gods-given rights, as if their affinity with the Targaryens was a settled fact, not after Lyonel Baratheon's failed rebellion. His father had taught Steffon that when Steffon was a boy still. "Grandson to the king sitting on the Iron Throne you might be, Steffon, but never forget, you are also the grandson of the man who once took arms against that king. Even if your royal grandsire wishes not to dwell on it, there are plenty of lords who would be eager to remind him - and us - of that fact."
No doubt Velaryon was whispering in the ears of other lords that the king's own cousin was not deserving of the honor of serving as his Hand either, owing to the taint of treason in his Baratheon blood; at the same time he was trying to rile Steffon into envy and jealousy over Tywin Lannister's appointment.
How many faces do you have, my lord? And which is the true one? Or perhaps do you not know yourself? Steffon pondered, staring at Lucerys Velaryon intently, while saying nothing himself.
Irritated with Steffon's silence, Lord Velaryon sniffed, returning Steffon's gaze with a look that seemed to imply – the Laughing Storm would not have stood for any kind of insult to his House's honor, unlike his feckless grandson. "Of course, you are very young still, Lord Steffon," he said, in a tone of mock kindly understanding.
True, Steffon was only a youth of sixteen at the time, but he had been the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands for two years by then, and was a new father to boot, so he did not appreciate Lucerys Velaryon condescending to him as if he was a foolish, callow child.)
Back at the Anniversary Tourney, Aerys frowned hearing Lord Chelsted's question. "I have no need for screaming babes still suckling on their mother's breasts at court," he scoffed. No matter that Jaime and Cersei Lannister were children six years of age, no longer babes-in-arms.
It was then, at this exact moment, that the king's gaze fastened on his cousin, and the two sons with him.
"How old is your older boy, Steffon?" Aerys asked.
"Ten, Your Grace."
"Of course. He was born the year of my coronation. That is a good sign. A very good sign, do you not think, my lord Hand?" Aerys asked, glancing sharply at Tywin Lannister, as if daring him to disagree.
"It certainly is, Your Grace," Tywin replied, his voice flat, his face inscrutable.
How do you do it? Steffon wondered. How do you withstand slight after slight, insult on top of insult?
("Because Tywin Lannister still holds the true rein of power, despite the king's vicious words, despite all the slights heaped on him," Lucerys Velaryon would say. In fact, many would say the same.
Years ago, when they were boys together in King's Landing, when he, Aerys and Tywin had been inseparable, Tywin had told them the answer. "Anger should be a weapon, a strength we harness to achieve a purpose, not a weakness that brought us low," Tywin had said, after Steffon was punished for impulsively striking another royal page who had been mocking Argella Baratheon for "not being pretty enough to wed Prince Duncan.")
"My cousin's son will make the perfect royal page," Aerys announced.
That was the last thing Steffon wanted for Robert, for any of his sons. This king was nothing like the king Steffon served as a royal page, the wise and kindly King Aegon, Fifth of His Name, Steffon's own grandsire. This king was nothing like the boy Steffon once knew, the cousin he once cherished like a brother he had always wished for.
"Robert is being fostered at the Vale, Your Grace," Steffon quickly replied. "Lord Arryn has been generous enough to take my son as his ward." Robert had come to King's Landing from the Vale with Lord Arryn and Eddard Stark, the other ward. Lord Stark had not made the long journey from the North to attend King Aerys' Anniversary Tourney, so the Stark boy had been in the company of Lord Arryn while Robert was reunited with his family.
"How long has that been the case?" Aerys asked, sounding wroth. "Why was I not told beforehand?"
"It has been a year, Your Grace. And I did mention it in a letter," Steffon replied, carefully.
"Letters!" Aerys scoffed. "You should have told me yourself. You should have taken your boys to court more often, for that matter."
"Perhaps Lord Steffon's younger son could be raised to that position, Your Grace, in place of his older brother," Lucerys Velaryon interjected with a suggestion Steffon was not at all grateful for. "The boy still resides at Storm's End, does he not, Lord Steffon?"
That suggestion only served to raise Aerys' ire even more. "His younger son? Why should Lord Arryn be given the privilege of molding my cousin's heir into a man, while the king is reduced to second sons, to second best?"
Second best. Through the corner of his eyes, Steffon could see Stannis biting his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.
"I am certain Lord Arryn would not object to the king conferring this honor to young Robert Baratheon," Qarlton Chelsted interjected, his voice as smooth as silk. "Unless …" here he frowned, pretending to hesitate, "unless of course this alliance matters so very much to Lord Baratheon and Lord Arryn?"
Jon Arryn quickly asserted himself. "To serve in Your Grace's court is indeed a great honor for anyone. I would be very pleased for Robert if he is granted this honor," he said, with a slight bow.
"Do you not mind me depriving you of your ward, Lord Arryn?" Aerys asked.
"Not at all, Your Grace," Jon Arryn replied. "Of course, the matter should be settled between Your Grace and Lord Baratheon, as Robert's father."
Ignoring the second part of Jon Arryn's reply, Aerys declared, "Well, it is settled then. Robert Baratheon will be my newest royal page. Stand up, child. Are you not grateful for this honor?"
Robert stood up without prodding from his father, a tall and broad-chested boy, looking older and stronger than his ten years. "I am most grateful, Your Grace," Robert replied, with his most winning smile.
Aerys looked very pleased with himself. Steffon was outraged. Aerys had decided, almost on a whim, and that was that. It was clear that Aerys only wanted his cousin's son at court as another mean by which he could spite, and slight, his Hand. Not your son, but Steffon's son.
Robert was his son. Shouldn't Steffon have a say in the fate of his own heir?
There was not a good way to refuse a king without risking suspicions, even with a kindly king, his father had said. When Steffon's royal grandfather had asked that he was sent to court, his father and mother had not been able to refuse. And King Aegon had not been as unpredictable as Aerys, not as changeable, and yes - Steffon would say it now, if only to himself - as dangerous.
"I have a mind to speak to the king in his solar," Steffon grumbled to Jon Arryn later. "My son is not a plaything for him to do as he wishes, a pawn in whatever game he is playing with his Hand."
Clearing his throat, Jon Arryn said, quietly and carefully, "Are you certain it is wise to challenge the king on this matter? No doubt you know His Grace better than I do, Lord Steffon, being both his cousin as well as his close companion for many years. But these bonds of blood and friendship … sadly, in my experience, I find that they do not mean as much when one is king and the other is not. If you refuse this honor for Robert, there is no telling what the king might do in his wrath."
It was an echo of the reminder his own father had given Steffon.
"Of course," Jon Arryn continued, "our bond of friendship could still be honored in another way, now that Robert will be leaving my care. I would be honored to foster your son Stannis at the Vale. And I give you my solemn word, Lord Steffon, that your Stannis would not be treated any differently from Robert, or from my other ward Ned Stark. And Ned knows what it is like to be a second son too, of course. Perhaps he and Stannis will be able to form a close bond through that."
That reminded Steffon of the king's cruel and tactless remark. Second best. Second son. His heart hardened against Aerys even more.
"And what does the wise and kindly Lord Arryn want?" Cassana asked, after Jon Arryn left. "Our other son to replace the one the king has taken from him?"
She was wary of Jon Arryn, almost as much as she was wary of the king. He came across as so reasonable, Lord Arryn, the voice of reason and moderation, always ready with his calm counsel and sensible advice. Cassana worried if her husband was leaving himself too susceptible to Lord Arryn's influence, finding in this older man who was always so free and so generous with his advice - about being a lord, about being a father, even about what it meant to be a man - a father figure to make up for the real father he had lost too early in life.
"You have decided, haven't you?" She asked her husband, dreading his answer.
Steffon nodded. "It will be good for Stannis," he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince them both of that fact.
Robert had seemed so bold, so self-assured in front of the king; Steffon was surprised to find him fretting later that day.
"Could Ned come too, Father? To be a royal page with me."
Steffon shook his head. "No, Robert. The king appointed only you, not Ned Stark."
"Maybe if you ask the king, Father," Robert said eagerly. "I heard some of the lords saying that the king loves his cousin very much, even saying that His Grace should have raised his own blood high, not a lion from Casterly Rock. If you ask His Grace to appoint Ned a royal page –"
"You must not listen to rumors and gossips, Robert," Steffon admonished his son sternly. Then, softening his expression, with his hands squeezing Robert's shoulders, he tried to reassure the boy, "It will be fine, truly. You will make plenty of new friends, and it will be a great adventure." Robert perked up considerably hearing about adventure, but the words sounded hollow to Steffon's own ears.
He had been reduced to this – a father who lied to his children. How disappointed his own father would have been.
"Would Lord Arryn be happy, to have me as a replacement for Robert?" Stannis asked, frowning.
That word, replacement. Steffon's mother had used that word. "I was the replacement Targaryen. My father had promised the crown prince, the heir to the throne, for House Baratheon. But he could only deliver his youngest daughter," Rhaelle Targaryen had said, bitterly.
"You are not a replacement, Stannis," Steffon insisted.