A/N: Before the chapter begins I will like to clarify the three way pairing in the description. The only reason Stafford is paired with both Sansa and Arya is merely, because we have not decided, who his pairing should be yet. Both will play key roles in his life, but only ONE will be his romantic partner. Also the romance will not be the central theme of the story, but it will be a major subplot. For all those, who have read thank you for the continued support and we will continue writing for you. Some of the alignments might be off, because some of this was written from a phone and going back to individually change it would take a long time.
Stafford
Stafford still in a deep shock of the events that had transpired in the crypt. It wasn't like he was angry, he was more surprised than anything else. Stafford, only a boy of fifteen, thought that marriage would come much later in his life. He never knew he could somehow become betrothed to someone, let alone someone he had just met. Stafford didn't have much experience dealing with these matters. For all his princely grace, many forgot he wasn't finished growing up.
Most of his life's memories were a blur, and he scarcely remembered his childhood. It was as if he went to sleep a babe at his reluctant mother's breast and woke up a grown lad, taller and stronger and tougher than most. His heart and mind was timeless, forever young and reckless. But it also meant that he grew old faster than he could grow up.
Stafford knew, since the youngest age, he felt his emotions harder and deeper than most. Sadness felt like a hot bucket full of rats tearing through his chest, happiness felt like the warmest bonfire of his father's hunting trips, and anger felt like a mountain crushing his skull into paste. It was hard, but he finally learned how to conceal them, as he knew it was essential for such occasions. He had to be strong for the courtly matters. For father, he thought.
As the Royal procession for the feast began, Stafford stood arm in arm with his betrothed. Stafford could tell she felt as awkward as he did as it began. Luckily, he was the one who knew about the betrothal, as it would make it even more awkward. Eddard Stark came out first with his mother. Stafford believed his mother to be one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. She had long golden hair and she was wearing an ornate, golden tiara with green emeralds on it. It matched her emerald eyes perfectly, in Stafford's opinion. His mother had always told him how he looked like Robert during the rebellion. His mother cared for him, but despite all the songs she sang him into the night with and how close she held him as a babe, she was as far from him as his father was to Joffery. Stafford never knew why.
Next came his father with Lady Catelyn on his arm. She shared many of the loveliness of Sansa Stark, but carried an air of wisdom and maturity brought by older age. Stafford knew that his father, despite his smiles and roaring laughs punctuated by a tip of his flagon, felt as if he died on with Rhaegar on the Trident too. But he knew must be strong.
Everyone kept on saying on how he looked like Robert. Stafford could still see it, but his father just still seemed different from what he used to be. They called him the demon of the trident. Stafford wondered how his father had bested the prince at the trident. Many spoke of his skill with the war hammer. Ser Barristan told him he shared similar skill with his axe, especially his long battle axe, which he used frequently. Ser Barristan had been tasked to train him in combat by his father. He was somewhat like a mentor to him.
Next came the first of the children, Rickon Stark came first. He walked in the most dignified manner a young boy could muster. He watch from behind as he stopped by what looked like his half brother Jon, and went on to the feast table. After Rickon came Bran and Tommen individually. Periodically, Tommen would look back at Stafford looking for approval. Stafford nodded back at him as he assumed his position at the feast table. After that Robb Stark escorted his sister, Myrcella to the feast. His sister, had hear golden hair in curls underneath a green jeweled net. She was as timid and shy as ever judging by the looks she gave Robb Stark.
Then, the royal princes would come and Stafford escorted Arya towards the table. Stafford could tell she wasn't used to these kind of events. Stafford loved feasts, because it gave him the opportunity to socialize and eat and drink aplenty. The royal prince took his seat next to his father and Arya sat beside him. Stafford watched Joffrey enter with Sansa, who looked as graceful and radiant as the first time he saw her. She walked with his older brother, Joffrey. Stafford spared him of hatred, but he certainly felt no live between them either. From his youngest days, Joffrey was born to be a person who gets everything they want. Or he thought he was anyways. The whole notion of hard work seems to confound him. He was born looking down on everyone else. Stafford was bemused. Those who live in house of glass shouldn't be throwing bricks.
Stafford respected Joffrey as much as Joffrey respected everybody other than, well, Joffrey. Needless to say, the feeling was mutual. As he watched Sansa hold his hand tight while he escorted her to her seat of honor, with true "love" in her eyes, Stafford knew she deserved someone better than him. And somebody with a look of love in their eyes when they addressed Joffrey clearly didn't know him. With a shrug, Stafford quickly took a seat and beckoned one of the servants to give him a flagon. He was ready to unwind after such a long journey.
After the Stafford and the others got settled, he quickly turned his attention to the arrival of his uncles. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister, or Uncle Jaime was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered "Kingslayer" behind his back. Stafford seemed rather indifferent towards him, not really spending much time with him. He knew he had the skill in combat and the charm outside of it as well. Ser Barristan had always talked about his skill in combat, and how Stafford's combat style is a stark contrast to Jaime's. Stafford focus more on getting close and physical with his opponents, looking for the quick finish, due to his average at best stamina. Jaimie technically dissected opponents and wore them out with his superior stamina and technique. The last time Stafford had engaged in a sparring matches with his uncle, he had been left bruised, winded and most of all drained of pride. Stafford had landed a good few blows on Jaime and it wasn't exactly total domination, but Stafford relished the opportunity to spar and beat his uncle in the sparring ring.
His uncle Tyrion was a different story however. All that the gods had given to his mother and uncle they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother's height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute's squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Stafford knew his uncle was wise however, and he knew quite a lot of things about quite a lot of topics. Stafford knew he would never be as intelligent or as wise as his uncle, but that's why the gods gave him skill with the axe to make up for it.
The other two Lords that accompanied his uncles, Stafford did not recognize. One of the them looked like Lord Eddard Stark. The other one looked foreign to Stafford, he did not look like he was of the north, but maybe if he was right he could be of the iron islands. He just has a feeling the boy wasn't a Stark and if his guess was right he was a Greyjoy. He just didn't know what to think about it.
As soon as the procession ended, they began to bring out the courses. Little in the life of a noble, Stafford observed, was ever as taken for granted as the food they eat everyday without a second thought. A bountiful feast of the finest mutton, beefs, and even porks were laid out before them. The summer wine felt good to the lips of Stafford. It warmed his belly as he set down the cup and began to eat his meal. He was so engrossed in his meal, he could not see the stares of all of the Starks, and even his mother until he looked up and around.
"Is your brother always this hungry?" Sansa asked Joffrey.
"My brother always acts this way when food is involved. Something else he apparently inherited from father," Joffrey replied with a hint of disdain in his voice.
"What else are you supposed to do at a feast? Stare at the food? No, you keep feasting! They call it a feast for a reason," Stafford replied after chewing and swallowing his food. He then continued to eat at a rapid pace, cleaning two plates in a relatively short amount of time. He had also drunk about ten cups of wine, as his father Robert didn't really care how much of that he drunk in the first place. Wine always seemed to soothe him, Ale did too.
"Can I ask you something?" someone asked as Stafford turned to see. He had zoned out after he had realized he had drunk a little too much summer wine. He saw that it was Arya, who looked at him with a certain mischievous curiosity. But under her steely gaze, he sensed an undercurrent of uncertainty lace her every gesture with him.
"I'm all yours," Stafford declared as he continued to pour himself some summer wine anyway.
"Are the rumors true..m-my prince? About the tournament during your brothers name day," Arya stammered nervously. Stafford knew his status always uneased many, even his fellow nobles, even if he didn't want them to be.
"Rumors about what in my dear brother's tournament?" Stafford replied after a quick swig of wine. He knew full well about what they were talking about, but he tried to buy some time to gather his thoughts about it.
"You know, about how you killed one of Walder Frey's baseborn children during the melee," She responded. He knew of it well almost too well. The Melee had gone down to the final four participants, and the crowd was already in shock when he had defeated Lord Yohn Royce in his preliminary melee. Stafford had just impressed them with his skill with the axe, and surpassed even the most lofty expectations of his performances. This melee was the only melee some people would consider major for Stafford, but he believed there were much better combatants testing their mettle in the joust, so Stafford believed it to only be a minor melee. He ended up killing one of the contestants, which happened to be one of Walder Frey's bastards. He yielded to Thoros of Myr afterwards with guilt and shame, a champion must not kill to achieve victory.
"I cannot deny that I did this, but it was not for the reason that you might think. I did not do it out of spite, like some people thought I had done," Stafford explained.
"Then why did you do it, my prince?" Arya asked him.
"Please, call me Stafford. There's no need to have such formalities, as I would like to spare you any discomfort We'll be getting to know each other in the coming days, after all," Stafford replied, "Anyway, the melee was more complicated than most imagine it happened, so to clear any misunderstanding, let me tell you exactly how it happened.
Flashback
Stafford felt like his body was made of lead. Lord Yohn Royce had put up a fight, one that drained him of stamina. He tried his hardest to keep himself up, but his foes had effectively worn away most of his protective measures. His axe arm had felt like wet parchment, and all of the opponents he made yield had taken a toll on his body. He had one more fight to go, one more chance to prove himself in a tournament. Although, many people were here for the joust and other more formidable combatants didn't attend the melee, Stafford knew this was his chance to make his mark and cement himself as a true warrior.
"Are you ready, Stafford?" Ser Barristan told him as he continued to fasten some replacement gauntlets onto his hands.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Stafford replied with a grin. Stafford kept his chin up and Ser Barristan gave him a nod.
"Remember there are four opponents ahead of you. Your goal is to make life a living hell for them, use the techniques I taught you, and try not lose your head," Ser Barristan told him. Stafford rose from his seat and began to make his way to the melee grounds. Before then he was interrupted by someone.
"Quite a show you gave them, nephew. Ser Barristan appears to have taught you well," the voice praised. He turned around and saw his uncle, Renly Baratheon, dressed in green steel plate outlined and edged in gold. Renly had been the youngest of the Baratheons. Renly reminded him of himself, and some even commented on how Renly looked more like him than his actual father. There were also strange rumors going around that he was actually Renly's son, and although that did not infuriate him it infuriated his father for some reason. Stafford had always liked Renly and both of them got along well. They acted like one another. Every time Stafford went to Storm's End, he always enjoyed it there. Especially when he and Edric Storm, his half brother would spar. Stafford always ended up beating him, but he was much more delightful to spend time with than Joffrey and he didn't whine when he lost to him like Joffrey did.
"Thank you, when I fight I make sure I fight well, so as not to make an ass of myself in front of the lords.
"Indeed, well good luck, I'll be watching with your parents, and of course our dear Joffrey," he replied sarcastically. Stafford nodded and went on his way.
The organizers of the melee had introduced his opponents when he had arrived. They introduced Stafford to the people, but by then people had already known who he was. His opponents were Thoros of Myr, Patrek Mallister, and one of the many bastards of Walder Frey. Only a boy of fifteen, he was the youngest competitor of the melee. Many didn't expect him to get out of the preliminary round, but his heart, courage and skill had proved those people wrong. After he had been introduced, the combatants got into position. Stafford drew his two handed battleaxe and kept his hand axe at the ready. The Axe he used was a special variation of his normal battle axe Storm's Edge. Instead of having an extra sharp edge, it was specially blunted to deal as much power as Storm's Edge usually does without killing his opponents. Little did he know, that this very axe would fail in that specific purpose
"Combatants, begin!" as soon as those words were uttered, Stafford charged at Thoros of Myr. He had his flaming sword to intimidate his opponents, but Stafford was having none of that today. Thoros came up to him and swung his sword which, Stafford easily parried with the edge of his axe. He then followed the advice of his other mentor Sandor, and followed with a savage shaft strike to the face. Thoros got knocked off balanced and suddenly disengaged him.
Suddenly from behind, he felt a sword hit him from the back. When he turned, he saw Patrick Mallister ready to engage him. Patrick tried his hardest, following up with rapid strikes of a two-handed, blunt melee sword, but he ended up failing miserably as Stafford ducked, dodged, and strongly parried all of the blows. Patrick had made a crucial mistake in his attack, he had left himself wide open during his wide, arcing swings and prey for Stafford's close range axemanship. Stafford realizing how open he was to the attacks, jabbed his axe into Patrick's gut area, causing him to stumble backward. As he regained his balance, Stafford winded up and landed a strike square in the neck area of Patrick. If this had been a real fight with Storm Edge, Patrick Mallister would be on the ground headless. Instead it knocked him to the ground, and he raised his axe.
"I yield!" Patrick screamed as he began to cover his face. Stafford stopped just in time before he brought the axe down. Several attendants went up and retrieved Patrick as Stafford turned his attention to the two other combatants. Thoros busy fighting Walder Frey's bastard didn't see him defeat Patrick Mallister. Walder Frey's bastard did however, and quickly turned his attention to Stafford. Thoros, surprised, did the same.
Suddenly, the two stopped fighting and stared at each other. Thoros nodded and the both began to attack Stafford simultaneously. Stafford surprised that the two had started teaming on him, began to find creative ways to deflect blows from his battle axe. However, the blows just came too fast and when he tried a retaliatory strike toward Thoros, he was able to parry it and land a square blow to Stafford's main power axe hand. The blow was so hard, he let go of axe, and his arm felt like he was about to lose it. Walder Frey's Bastard also took his time to hit his chest, which knocked the wind out of him. Stafford, winded and disarmed, quickly pulled out his one handed hand axe as a last resort. Thoros and the other combatant getting reckless charged in without guarding themselves, opened themselves up for a close range attack. Stafford targeted Walder Frey's Bastard, which he sooner came to regret, and gave him a full frontal barrage of axe. The man tried desperately to fight it off, but he landed a blow to his abdomen thrice causing him to get on his knees. Thoros tried to save him by lunging at Stafford with his sword, but Stafford saw it and he slide tackled him knocking Thoros to the ground. Surprised at how he suddenly got the advantage after being on the receiving end of a tag team beatdown, Stafford quickly saw it an opportunity to make the Frey boy yield. He raised his hand axe with all the destructive force of a charging stag, and lowered it. Had he noticed the Frey bastards helmet was off he would have taken a little bit out of the strike. He did not and when his axe made contact with the head, it cracked the skull of the Frey boy sending him dead on the ground. Stafford stunned grounded his axe and yielded. He didn't want to be known as the champion, who killed to gain his title.
"And that's how it happened," Stafford concluded. He remembered that day. He was ashamed not because he was dominated and utterly embarrassed by the competition, but because he was ashamed of having killed. He had been a couple, about ten months younger than his brother.
"Do you regret killing him?" Arya pressed him.
"I barely knew him, I doesn't mean I didn't regret killing him. I didn't plan or want to do that," Stafford stated. Stafford relaxed a little and turned to finish more of his meal. While doing so he still felt her curious gaze. He gulped down the last of his food and turned to her.
"I'm surprised you're interested in tournaments. Most ladies I've encountered bore of such topics," Stafford declared before finishing off his fifteenth wine cup. He was starting to feel a little dizzy, he hadn't drunk this much wine in a while. Stafford tolerated more than others though, he didn't get as drunk as his father with just a tiny amount of summer wine.
"I'm not like those others, Stafford," Arya stated. This girl surprised Stafford more than ever.
"Then what are you interested in my lady?" Stafford asked.
"Many things that would certainly bore my sister and other ladies like her. Horseback riding, swordplay, and the like," Arya stated.
"Swordplay, do you know how to wield sword? It's not like I like swords anyway," Stafford said a little upset as he tried to pour more flagon for himself, but found it was empty. He hated swords, it required to much speed and stamina in wielding, two things he didn't like to use in combat.
"You stick em with the pointy end," she stated. It was at this moment Stafford burst out laughing. Joffrey and Sansa turned to him as well as Robb and Stafford's other siblings.
"You alright there Prince Stafford?" Robb asked.
"Yes, I'm alright. Anyway Arya, you don't cease to amaze me. It is not often I have such a good time with highborn ladies like yourself. You're different from all of them," Stafford declared.
"Have met a lot of them? And how am I different from all of them?" Arya asked.
"Most of them are dreadfully boring and some are basically there to try to secure an inheritance through me. None of them have quite been as interesting as you," Stafford reasoned.
"Interesting," she repeated.
"Indeed, I never knew anyone would be interested in the same things you are. Much less a highborn lady," Stafford stated, "You really are something. I'm sure you'll find someone to be your companion. Someone who fill truly love and cherish you, it seems as though it won't be hard to do so." Little did she know it might be Stafford who might need to deliever this. Stafford hated betrothal, he didn't know what Arya thought of him and he barely knew her as of now. King Robert had put him in an awkward position.
"I don't want to get married," she stated bluntly as she slouched down on the table.
"Have you ever been in love?" Stafford asked. She just replied shaking her head no. Stafford sighed a little.
"You have, just think about your family. You would risk everything to protect them right. You would risk your life to save theirs. You feel as though they are more important to you than your own well being. Now imagine that but to a greater extent. Life would cease to be the same if they were taken from you. You would do anything to be what they want. Your no longer the center of the world, they are," Stafford explained. Stafford had never actually been in love before, he has been attracted and infatuated by some ladies before, but none of them were truly love. He thought he was too young for that.
Then he heard something from where Joffrey was, something about him.
"During the hunt I gutted the animal with a small knife, unlike my brother, who had to use an axe to kills his. Did I ever tell you about how he was beaten handily by my swordsmanship at my nameday," he boasted. Rage entered Stafford's veins. He was not going to let his lies taint his reputation. It was clear the ladies including Sansa believed him.
"Hold on a moment, I have to deal with a rat," Stafford declared. Stafford immediatly approached Joffrey almost about reach for his hand axe.
"Oh, brother we were just talking about you," Joffrey stated with the slight nervousness on his face.
"What's this about you besting me in one on one combat? Last I checked you weren't in the melee and your name wasn't Thoros," Stafford snarled.
"Well...don't believe him ladies he is still not quite over the time I bested him during the tournament," he trumphantly stated with feign pride in his eyes. The ladies including Sansa giggled. That was the last straw. Immediately, Stafford lost it and sent a sharp left hook into the chin of Joffrey sending him falling to the ground. The entire feast went silent after that.
"Whats the matter can't take a punch legendary swordsman?" Stafford taunted. Joffrey got up slowly trying to regain his pride. He tried to jab at him with his right fist, but Stafford deflected it and punched him right in the gut grounding him again.
"Enough!" he heard his mother scream as she intervened for her poor prince. Robert got up and tried to assess the situation.
"Alright, you two what happened this time?" Robert managed to sigh.
"Stafford struck me for no reason!" Joffrey accused him.
"Well spreading lies about me seems like a perfectly fine reason!"
"Liar!" Joffrey stated.
"Enough you two, I will not have a good feast ruined like this. Stafford, Joffrey return to your seats and refrain from attacking one another. Another incident and I'll have you escorted out of the feast," Robert declared. Stafford nodded in agreement and Joffrey with scorn returned to his seat. Their mother checked on both of them, but mostly Joffrey and returned to her seat.
The feast went on for a couple more hours. They had continued about various topics like Storm's Edge, which he still wore into the feast. Soon it got late and Robb, Stafford, and Arya went outside for a bit.
"Well its been fun, I had little too much to drink, but I really enjoyed my time with you,"
"We'll talk again on the morrow right?" she asked.
"Of course, what ever you want," Stafford stated as he began to walk to where he would be staying in Winterfell tonight. He looked back at Arya, and wondered how they would fare in the future.
