278 AC

He woke from a troubled sleep, reaching out for Cassana in the dark, before painfully realizing where he was. King's Landing, not Storm's End. Her side of the bed - what he would always think of as her side of the bed, no matter where he was sleeping - was empty, devoid of comfort, devoid of warmth, devoid of Cassana.

He grabbed the pillow, the unused pillow that held no trace of her, no trace of her at all. He used the pillow to cover his face, to muffle the sound of his loud, frustrated groan. Tomorrow, he resolved. Tomorrow he would sleep in the middle of this wretched, wretched bed, and never again woke up reaching out for his absent wife.

Then again, he had been resolving to do this since the first night he spent alone in this bedchamber. Yet night after night, he still kept to the left side of the bed, as he had done so ever since the night of his wedding.

Sleep proved elusive, pretending to return before cruelly absconding once more. Finally, Steffon rose from the bed, draping a blanket over his shoulders as protection against the cold. FIre was blazing in the hearth, but the room felt as cold and unwelcoming to him as if he was stranded outside in the north, in the middle of the deepest winter.

The cold is all in your head, lad, he could almost hear Uncle Harbert scoffing.

In his head, he began composing another letter to his wife, a letter that would never be written and never be sent, King's Landing being overrun with spies and more spies. Putting words on parchment was dangerous business here.

I want you, he wrote, in air. I need you. I long for you, for your touch, your kiss, your smile, your laughter, your frown, your raised eyebrows, your explosion of anger, your scoff of impatience. I long for your blunt and direct words that cut through all the pretensions and the masks that people put on to impress or deceive others.

The years had not dampened Steffon's love and desire for his lady wife. Neither had distance and their self-imposed separation. True, Cassana could have accompanied him to King's Landing when he was summoned to court by the king, but they had agreed, they had both agreed that her presence was needed in Storm's End. Robert was not ready, that was the crux of the matter, the undeniable truth Robert's father and mother had to admit. Robert was not yet ready to be left in sole charge of Storm's End and the stormlands with neither parent being by his side.

I was younger, Steffon thought. I was only four-and-ten when my lord father died. Robert is almost six-and-ten.

And you had your own lady mother by your side to guide you. Would you deny your son the same, would you risk the fate of the stormlands in the hands of an unready young man, all for the sake of your own wants and needs? he countered his own treacherous thought.

"Your duty is in King's Landing, and mine is in Storm's End," Cassana had said. She was right, of course. He knew that she was right. But the rightness of it did not make their separation any easier to bear.

Everything reminded him of her. Even the daily walk from his bedchamber to the throne room was fraught with recollections, with images from the past that seemed as real to him as if the event was taking place in the present. He always paused, at the spot where he saw her for the first time, that green-eyed girl gazing up, looking for the Maidenvault where Baelor the Blessed imprisoned his sisters.

"Baelor the Blessed," declared that green-eyed girl, "was a man who used and abused his sisters and the gods to make holy his own fears and inadequacies."

She had always known how to get to the crux of the matter, even as a girl. And how he yearned for her presence now, more than ever, caught as he was between the devil and the deep blue sea, between the king and his Hand.

"Excessive admiration and unbridled hero-worship could so easily turn into loathing and resentment. Resentment of being constantly overshadowed by the once-admired figure," Cassana had remarked, long ago, long before Steffon finally realized the crack, no, the chasm, that had opened up between his two closest childhood companions.

And the chasm was no longer limited to the relationship between Aerys and Tywin. "You would never presume to overshadow Aerys," Tywin had said, with a sneer, when Steffon first arrived in court to take his place in the small council. "Even as a boy, you were content to remain in the shadow, in our shadow. That is why he wants you by his side now, so he could fool himself into believing that he is still the brightest star in the realm."

"I never asked for this. I never wanted this," Steffon had replied, truthfully. He had quietly and carefully kept his distance from Aerys and from court these many years, intent on keeping his promise to his wife that their children will not be used and abused as pawns by Aerys, will not be made to serve this king until they were old enough to protect and defend themselves. But when Aerys summoned Steffon himself to court, what choice did he have except to obey? A king's command could not be disregarded without grave consequences, consequences not only to himself, but also to his family, to his people.

So here he was, in King's Landing, and there Cassana was, in Storm's End, both of them doing their duty, so far apart from one another.

"Write to your lady wife," Aerys commanded, "and tell her the king desires her presence in court."

"But Your Grace -"

"I have an important commission for the both of you," Aerys interrupted, eyes gleaming. "A very important commission that will determine the fate of the realm."

"I am honored by your faith and your trust in both of us, Your Grace. But Cassana has her duties as the Lady of Storm's End. In my absence -"

"Is this his influence?" Aerys hissed in anger. "Is this Tywin's influence? Did he encourage you to challenge me, to disobey me, as he himself is wont to do?"

"Tywin has naught to do with this at all," Steffon replied stiffly, trying to bury the flash of his own fury. "I am not his creature. Nor am I his puppet." Or anyone's puppet, Steffon added silently.

Aerys' expression softened. Then, in a wheedling, cajoling voice, he said, "You must be careful not to be misled and led astray by Tywin. He is trying to drive a wedge between us, cousin. I know this for a fact. He is envious of you, envious of the honors and the trust I intend to bestow on my dearest cousin."

The honors you intend to bestow on me for the very purpose of making Tywin envious, you mean? Steffon thought, but did not say. He no longer believed that Aerys' sudden high regard for him had anything to do with his own great merit in Aerys' eyes. He was merely a tool in Aerys' eyes, a tool Aerys could use to put Tywin Lannister firmly in his place, a place well below the king.

And a tool, as Cassana would say, could easily be disposed of, once it has reached the end of its usefulness to Aerys.

Aerys was done with wheedling and cajoling. "I want her here, Steffon. I want your lady wife in court."

Here she was, in the flesh, the real her, truly here by his side. Not a dream, not a figure in his imagination.

He had been dreaming of this moment, of this reunion, from the day he departed Storm's End for King's Landing. Yet now that it was finally here, the long-awaited and yearned-for reunion, he wanted to shout, Run, Cassana!

She noticed his uncertainty, his wavering looks, his faltering steps. She made the first move, clasping his hand in hers. He moved a step closer towards her, breathing in her familiar scent. Fingers intertwined, they stared into each other's eyes for a long while, not speaking, barely breathing.

I have missed you, he did not need to say.

And I you, she did not need to reply.

He rested his head on her shoulder, feeling as if he was laying down a great burden, a heavy beast he had been carrying on his back, carrying alone in the cold and the dark.

"Whatever it is," Cassana whispered, "we will fight. We will fight it together."

Raising his head, he nodded solemnly, before kissing her cheek.

She laughed. "Is that all I get, after these many moons of separation? A gentle and chaste peck on the cheek?"

I want you. I need you, she did not need to say.

And I you, he did not need to reply, as they began undressing each other.