Author's Note: Woo! A new chapter is here.
Loves to read books: Thank you! That chapter was fun to write. Just having a character explore a new feeling or territory is fun.
magicdownunder: Haha, you might not always be. Steffon is going to be very sporadic; he'll make good decisions and then really reckless ones. I think its impossible for him to always be right and always be good in this situation. He's going to have so many phases. After all, he's Robert and Cersei's son; two reckless people. Every right move they make, the wrong one quickly follows.
pawelp: Thank you! I'm glad you like Cassandra. I can't say anything about that without giving anything away, but the story will eventually follow canon but the canon process will take longer. That's all I can say. For a brief time, it will be AU until it follows the canon path.
darkwolf76: That was a one time thing! I swear, I keep saying that but then I suddenly get a random spike of inspiration. I watch movies or I constantly think about the story and jot down ideas. It helps because I tend to get carried away with things. Lol. Sometimes I feel like the realism is going to make it too slow, but I think it should be a slow process for someone who hasn't wanted to be with anyone before. Thank you though! I gush at your praises.
I'm happy everyone feels that way about him. I can't wait to get started on that! The ideas I have and already written are endless.
amrawo: Thank you! I see you're enjoying two of my stories!
Guest: I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, the story hasn't gone as far or in that direction to implicate that. I'm not following that kind of route, not at all. I can't say anything without giving anything away, so sorry if that's what you think of it.
TwoWayMirror: That might come back to bite though. I'm sorry! At least I gave a warning! I'm glad you're enjoying it and hope you still do.
CERSEI
Punishing her children was something she never enjoyed doing. She was not like those mothers that could discipline her children without the harshest of tugs of her heartstrings. It already proved difficult in itself just to raise her voice at them, but what her eldest boy had done? That could not be disregarded. With a swift motion of her hand, she gave her son a slap. That had to be done before she would admonish him properly, explain to what he did wrong and then here his side of things before an apology. However, she sooner discovered something was more certainly peculiar.
Something about her Steffon was different.
When she had struck him, his head had been thrown to the side from the force of the blow, but something had flashed clear across his eyes and if she would've blinked at that instant she would've missed it. For a short second, she saw his cerulean eyes look as if they were burning. How does eyes reminiscent of the Summer Sea do something like that? In those eyes she known for seventeen years was something akin to fire; the intensity of them sent a sudden chill down her spine in spite of their heat.
He hadn't touched his reddened cheek,nor even wince at the obvious sting. It was red, bound to swell, but he merely stood with his jaw set and his eyes staring at her rather blankly now. The look of him was like he was but a hollow vessel, made to stay there and endure her presence when he would rather be somewhere else. Her sweet boy never once gazed at her like this, without note of emotion or angrily. When she would punish him, rarely if she ever, he had always understood the reasons and asked for forgiveness. But he was silent to her now as well as stony and gelid. It worried her… It scared her.
"Are we finished, mother?"
If Cersei never mastered the art of controlling herself, she would've gasped. Her eyes, however, did in fact widen at this sudden nonchalance because the shock in her was too strong to tame. For a split second, she saw an image of Jaime standing in the place of her son. Jaime would've done that. He would've acted as if her justified anger and her strikes did nothing to him. He would've joked at it, laughed at it, pissing her off even more since he never took anything so serious. All Steffon did was take on a rather bored look, totally disrespecting her and acting as if her punishment had meant absolutely nothing to him.
"Excuse me?" She manage to say in her shock, "How dare you speak to me, your mother, this way?"
His eyes were looking past her as if she wasn't even there. As if she was some kind of silhouette that haunted the room unbeknownst to him. Her eyes became hard as stone at this, seeing as he was willfully doing this. There had to been a reason of why he was acting this way and he wasn't going to bother to tell her. She knew that for sure. "Father is waiting for us and so are the others. I don't believe we should be wasting our time for a conversation I'll just have to repeat again."
"What has gotten into you? You've never—"
"I've never." Life came back to his eyes, something facetious in the midst of them. The sudden spring of life in them was so strange after witnessing just three sorts of faces and looks he never seen from him before. It was liked she shifted to different people, none of them familiar to her. None of them like the boy she knew. "Funny, I've never liked to think a lot of things would happen and yet they did. I suppose people change, don't they, sweet mother of mine? Not change per se, but their trueselves are made to be revealed. I never would've struck Joffrey before today yet I also never imagined he would point his sword at a little girl."
Her dark brows knitted together as her son tilted his head, like he waiting to see if she would reply or even react to his strange words. What was this? What was this interrogation and this condescending attitude? Her boy looked like a stranger and she loathed it. Cersei loathed that she could not recognize her son. Her first boy, her golden Stag.
Perhaps it was her own fault for not quickly acting on the sudden changes in his behavior since they left Winterfell. Steffon had ignored her in several different ways: choosing silence when she spoke to him, moving away from her touch like she had a sickness or ignoring servants that she sent to retrieve him for her. Every which way, he had managed to avoid her in these past eight days and Cersei had no clue as to why.
It wounded her. It wounded her to know her son hated her. What could she have done to bore this hatred in him? Then it suddenly came to her, this reason that sprang to her mind. Almost instantly, Cersei figured this was his way of dealing with being separated from his twin. Of course, her son was having sudden changes in mood and possibly the sight of her and Jaime speaking with one another had made him think of Cassandra. He had a hard time coping without the sight of her, without her being constantly around. It was such a huge change. She missed her daughter too and oft thought about her before she ate or went to sleep. The queen knew she must help her son through this difficult time. She was the only one that could, being a twin herself, and suffering through the agony of times she was separated from Jaime herself.
This was truly the painted example of why it was unnatural to separate twins; two halves of a whole being forced apart. Her son was changing for the worst. Cersei forcefully pulled him close and like she expected, he did not return her embrace. It was difficult embracing him, he had his father's height; six feet and six inches exact, but Robert seemed less tall now since he gotten himself so fat. Her son looked completely like a golden-haired Robert; the Robert she adored when she first laid eyes on him and felt giddy as ever to marry. In a few moments, she had to gather herself that he was her son and not her drunkard husband with different hair coloring. Not the beast of a Stag she came to despise with all her being today.
Her head only could lay against the lower half of his chest, hearing the steady beating of his heart as she did. "I know being apart from Cassandra is hurting you, my sweet boy. I miss her too and it has only been a week and a day, but you musn't take this anger out on your family. You need us now than you ever needed us before."
Cersei frowned sadly as she had felt no movement, not even an attempt. It was a one-sided hug, possibly a one-sided conversation as well. She gave and he returned her with such a cold personality. He was more cold than that cold and grey wasteland that called itself the North. "We should leave now. Father will grow frustrated if left to wait."
CASSANDRA
The vast and expansive sky had turned into a jet-black hue, stars illuminating in the darkness that would make anyone want to take a walk outside to admire them. Unfortunately Cassandra chose not to, she was not at all comfortable of wandering the cold North at night just yet. One day, she would walk around Winterfell during the moon's reign, when she felt a little braver about it or when she remembered the places more clearly. She still sometimes found herself lost now and then, she even gone in circles most of the time. Winterfell was larger than the Red Keep and she hadn't known Winterfell for all her life. It wasn't an easy adjustment, it would take time.
After seeing Rickon off to bed with stories, she decided to venture to the library tower with Josselyn at her side. Josselyn fussed about going with her since it had been a while since the two got to talk with just the two of them. If it wasn't Millicent or another handmaiden or lady-in-waiting stealing her attention then it was Rickon, and then it was Robb trying to spend time together again, which she purposely avoided. Every time she and Robb spent time alone, it only made her feel strange, even if she liked the foreign feelings she felt.
"How do you like the married life?" Josselyn finally asked, who had kindly avoided talking about her husband since the wedding until now. Her best friend and handmaiden had known all about Cassandra's mixed emotions about this marriage, Robb, and being separated from her family. So she tried to go at a slower pace in order to not frustrate her.
"It is nice." She admitted a half truth, "Did I tell you Robb saw me stuffing my face on our wedding feast? He knows I liked candied almonds because of it."
Josselyn snorted, clamping her hand over her mouth to withhold her laugh. Cassandra slew her green eyes towards her friend, annoyed that she found it funny. It wasn't funny. It was embarrassing. Regaining composure, Josselyn cleared her throat and tried to keep her face neutral. "Well, at least he knows what you like? That's a good thing. Now you should learn what he likes."
"And why should I do that?" Genuinely curious, studied the rather blank look Josselyn bestowed her. She was looking at her as if she heard the most dumbest question in existence. "What? What I mean is… I didn't ask for him to give me candied almonds and he shouldn't have seen me stuffing my face. Why should I bother knowing what he likes?"
"For one, he is your husband, Cassandra. The two of you should know what each other's likes, whether it be colors or what pleases each other most in bed." The former princess still didn't quite understand why should she care about the former, but the latter made her uneasy. The latter her mother would've encouraged. "Secondly, Robb obviously cares about your interests, even the most minimal of things like what snack you like. Aren't you curious to know what he likes to eat? What makes him happy? What makes him sad?"
It started to come together, what Josselyn had meant that is. Cassandra realized how selfish she sounded about not caring what he liked, she should care, and already did in some ways. What color did he like? She asked herself. Was it the Stark grey? Maybe blue? Most boys like blue, she thought. Perhaps a shocking color like purple or yellow? What makes him happy? Her mind started to conjure up the smile he gave her during their wedding day and then again back to the day when he kissed her knuckles. What could she do to make him smile at her like that again?
"I am… curious." She told her rather bashfully, wringing her hands together as she felt silly for confirming such a thing. "Robb keeps trying to close the wall between us, but I think I like to make it taller."
"Any taller and they'll have to build another Castle Black." The blonde-haired handmaiden ceased her walking, making Cassandra turn to look back at her. "Cassie, are you afraid to fall in love with him?"
Afraid? No, she didn't think she was afraid. It was more like she didn't know how to fall in love with someone. "It is not that I fear it, I'm not sure if I can because I never have before."
"Tell me, when you fawned all over Gerold Dayne when you were younger, didn't you dream up silly things like marrying him or even kissing him?" Thinking back on it, she didn't go as far as to think of marrying him, neither did she think of kissing him either. She just thought he was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. She just couldn't believe that such a person existed and he made her feel warm and fuzzy whenever she looked at him, but marriage and kissing? No, she hadn't thought of that. She never thought of marriage, she even told Robb of that.
Cassandra shook her head in reply, leaving Josselyn to sigh in near defeat. "Alright, tell me how it is you feel when you're around Robb?"
"I feel nervous most of all." She began, listing things from the top of her head. "I feel jealousy, I feel hatred, I feel happy…"
Blinking a few times, bewildered, her friend had not the slightest clue as to why she would feel two of those things towards him. "Hatred? Jealousy? W-Why would you feel that?"
"Because he's perfect!" Cassandra answered quickly, almost too fiercely. She had to calm herself, knowing that if she said it any harsher than she would seem like she was screaming. "He's too nice, he's too handsome, and do you see how everyone in Winterfell treats him? They treat him like he is gold or something… It unnerves me. He unnerves me."
Josselyn snapped her fingers, a grin coming across her face. "I know now. When you fancied Gerold Dayne, you were smitten with him because of his sightly perfection. You're afraid of meeting someone like him because you're afraid they are not going to stay that perfection you see them as. You're afraid because you fear Robb has a different side of him, a side you won't like just like Gerold Dayne."
Her eyes widened at the realization. It had all made perfect sense. Perhaps it didn't start with her disappointment with Gerold Dayne, but her mother's constant advice of staying cautious. The story of how her mother fell in and quickly out of love with her father, who she thought was so perfect at first sight and he truly wasn't. Then she was forced to endure a loveless and joyless marriage. Her mother truly stunted her of loving men.
Figuring this out, what could it mean? Did it mean she could push aside these fears of hers so that she could fall in love with her husband properly? Did it mean she could fall in love if she swallowed all the negativity that came surfacing? What if she was ruined? Damaged. What if she couldn't be repaired? What was she to do? Her mind was racing and if she thought any harder, she was bound to get a headache.
"Enough of this." Cassandra waved her hand dismissively, "I don't want to think any more about this." She just wanted to relax and read. She didn't want to think about this or discover something else awful about the way she thought and felt about how her relationships formed.
Josselyn frowned at how reluctant she was to explore her problems. In the end, however, she obeyed her. The two of them finally reached the library after going up the staircase. When she pushed open the door, her eyes were swirling with inquisitiveness as she soaked in the place. It had a lot of books, not as many of the Red Keep, but quite a lot. It was sizely, even larger than the Sept. You would've thought a place of worship would've been treated more highly than a library.
The ages of these books were extremely old, some of them weren't even books at all but scrolls. Some of them looked strong while other parchments looked fragile, like if you unrolled them then they would fall apart right in your hands. Some had to be sewn together again, which excited her. Just what knowledge was in such old text? Immediately, she began to scour the shelves.
"Stories of the Children of the Forest, Tales of the First of Men, and A History of the Kings of Winter." All of them ignited her interest, a part of her thought about the songs and stories she would have to teach her children one day. Her Stark children. She would tell them about their Baratheon and Lannister family history even the Targaryen, but the North and the Starks would've been much more important to them.
"You're going to read all of this?" Josselyn asked incredulously, watching her place the books on a nearby desk. "I suppose we'll be here for half the night because I'm not letting you read until dawn. I never let Steffon do it, so I won't let you."
Cassandra stiffened upon the mention of her twin, slowly sliding her eyes to the blonde-haired girl who seemed to realize she let his name slip past her lips for the first time since he left. Her surprise gradually went away and then a look of sadness began to reveal itself, making Cassandra instantly feel guilty as she espied it. "Did Steff say anything to you when… you know, the both of you ended things?"
A moment of silence lingered rather awkwardly before Josselyn chose to stare down at the floor, bitterly. Completely crestfallen. "He told me he didn't love me." 'How could you say that, Steffon? Even if that's how you felt, you could've lied to her. Would it have killed you to be kind?' Steffon had never been sweet when he parted with his women. Before Josselyn, there was another girl, a servant named Lily. Lily cried for days when Steffon broke things off with her and when Cassandra asked why, he simply said that he didn't like her anymore. Then there was a baker's daughter name Katja and he ended things saying that he didn't like how she kissed, which was a lame reason and probably not the only one. Then there had been the seamstress' daughter, Olivia. He told her that she didn't excite him anymore. All these women became dull to him and Josselyn was now just another among the long line.
"I knew he didn't though." Josselyn managed to say, sniffing as a means to control her emotions. There were no tears falling from her eyes, but her eyes were crying. Her sadness was clear in them. "Part of me just really believed that he would… Just once. When he would look at me and smile, I hoped he did that because he loved me. When he searched for me after many hours of being apart from me, I hoped it was because he missed me so much out of his love for me. I just don't think Steffon is quite capable of loving anyone that isn't you or your father or your mother. I don't think Steffon has any idea what love is either. So he just uses girls until he doesn't want them anymore."
Perceptive as Josselyn was, she was also foolish. She gave him his heart in her hands continuously all the while knowing that he would never give her his in return. Cassandra wondered if Steffon was stunted when it came to love as she was. Out of the many similarities they had, that had to be the worse one to share and it was both of the fault of their parents.
"I'm sorry you've got your heart broken, Joss. I didn't want that to happen to you." She apologized, wondering if interfering in their relationship had been a good thing after all. "But…" Cassandra soon rose a brow, "I see you talking quite often with Theon as of late. What is going on with the two of you?"
"Nothing, really." Rolling her eyes, her friend leaned forward with a smirk. "He's been chasing me the whole week trying to get in-between my legs and I've denied him everyday since." Scoffing, Cassandra wondered what made the Greyjoy so bold and persistent. Then again, he was a Greyjoy. She heard that they were persistent and took things by conquest; the iron price, never the gold. It was in his blood to be aggressive and arrogant. "He's nothing but a lecher."
"At least you know." Taking a seat, she opened the first book of the pile: A History of Kings of Winter. Laying the heavy, hardback book before her, she began to read about the second king after Bran the Builder, Brandon Stark also known as Brandon the Breaker. He had been more interesting than she could imagine. He formed an alliance with a Wildling, a Wildling name Joramun that was King-Beyond-the-Wall, and destroyed the Night's King and his queen. They even had the Night King's name forgotten in history, just leaving him known as the Night King and the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
Losing track of time, she wasn't quite sure for how long she had read. The candle's wax was melted by a half when she finally turned to look at it. Josselyn was knitting, having prepared to have something to do while the former princess read.
Soon Josselyn stopped her knitting, gazing at her with curiosity. "Are you hungry, Cassie? Perchance parched?"
"I am quite longing for a drink of water." Wrinkling her nose, she watched Jossely stand up from her seat. "You're going to the kitchens?"
"Yes," She nodded, "I'm going to ask once more before I go… Are you hungry?"
Pouting, Cassandra nodded. "Is there anymore of that pie left from din? It was really, really good."
"Pie? In the middle of the night? Cassie." Hating how much her best friend was sounding like her mother, she rolled her eyes and looked back into the book. "I'll get you a bowl of fruit."
"Fine." She huffed in defeat, shuffling her feet on the floor in a tantrum. She wanted more of that pie and now she was denied. Cassandra had hoped to eat whatever she wanted now that she was free of her mother's hawkeye, but now Josselyn was measuring how she ate.
'I probably should've told Robb that I was going to be here. I hope he isn't worried about me.' She thought to herself, biting down on her lip as she looked towards the library door. It wasn't like she owed him any explanation of where she was at all times, but it wouldn't be nice so to let him think something might've happened to her. Now she was beginning to worry, so much that she could hardly concentrate on the texts. Shaking her hair out of frustration, she sooner slammed her hands on the table's surface and stood, making the chair screech across the floor as it slid back. "I don't care if he worries or not. How he feels is not my responsibility. I am my own person and I can do what I want. How Robb Stark feels about it means absolutely nothing to me!"
Within mere seconds of this declaration, she had lost all this spike of confidence and rebelliousness. 'Who am I kidding?' She asked herself, falling back into the seat. 'I care. I really care what he thinks… I don't want to. I don't want to care what he thinks or what he likes or… why he smiles like that at me. His stupid smiles. They're just plain stupid. Who told him smiling like that was attractive? They had been a liar. A pretty good liar…'
Now he was in her thoughts, not leaving them either. He looked so disappointed after dinner when she told him she was going to spend time with Josselyn. It was like how Ryia looked at her when she didn't let her keep the steak bones; like a wounded animal, who only wanted just one small thing and you denied them of it. Laying her head on the table, she shuffled her feet again.
Ryia liked Robb, and didn't care who noticed it either. Just a few days ago, she caught the lioness resting in his lap as he laid in their bed and read while Grey Wind lied at his side, slowly trying to ease the lion off him. The two of them fought over him, even over her sometimes. But everyone seemed so taken with Robb and here she was the only one being so stubborn.
The door had opened with a creak, but she hadn't move to look at who came in. "Josselyn, are you back already? What kind of fruit did you get? I hope it isn't any grapes with seeds." When she wasn't given a reply, she raised her to see nobody was there, but the door was swaying. Knitting her brows together, she tilted her head to the side in question. 'Josselyn must've not shut the door all the way when she left.' Lifting herself out of the chair, she had went to close it gently.
A sudden thud had shook her, making her spin to her right just to see a book had fallen from the shelf. Placing her hand over her heart, that was beating ever so quickly, she let out a sigh of relief. 'It's just a book, Cassie. Get a hold of yourself.' Easing her fright away, she walked over and picked it up from the ground to put it back, 'Getting scared over a silly, little…' Out of the book-sized space in the double-opened shelf, she came eye to eye with a man she never seen before.
"Stay quiet and I'll let you go." He said to her as she clutched the book tightly in her hand. "G'on, leave and keep on going." What was he doing here? Most importantly, what was he aiming to do?
"I can't let you do that, sir." She told him, staring defiantly back into his eyes. "I'm not letting you leave here."
He cackled, thinking her very serious threat as jest. Cassandra knew better than to think he would see her dangerous because she was just a lady, some weak noblewoman to him. With a shove, she had made the large bookcase tilt and fall towards him. He was barely able to outrun it and by the time he threw himself down the aisle, she had met him and brought the book in her hand down onto his head. The book wasn't hardback, so it didn't do much damage, she realized.
His hand wrapped itself around her ankle, pulling her to the floor, making her land with such force on her side that she gasped in pain. The book she used to hit him had left her grasp, her hand curling into a fist. "Get. Your. Filthy. Hands. Off. Me." She told him with each kick with her free foot while pulling the ankle he had within his grasp, trying to make him let go. She managed to hit him square on the nose, the heel in her boots digging into his skin and giving him a gash. Blood began to immediately pour from the wound, giving her enough time to scramble herself back onto her feet as he pressed his hands to his bleeding face.
"Stupid… cunt!" The man screamed, immediately getting himself to his feet and purposely knocking the lit candle on the nearby end table, it had flew towards a bookshelf, letting the paper and covers of the books feed the flame and making it grow large in size. With wide eyes, Cassandra tried to make her escape towards the door, but he had beaten her to it and locked her in from the other side.
"Let me out!" The panic her voice was all to loud and clear, her head slowly turned to let her eyes gaze at the flames that burned with colors and flare, burning all the books and scrolls alight that it touched. 'Is this how I die?' She wondered, 'What if I'm to die here? Burnt alive?' Made to ashes like these books and paper, becoming nothing and giving her family not a piece of flesh or bone for them to mourn. 'No, I'm not going to die here. I'm not going to let myself die like this!' So her fist pounded harder and her voice screamed out louder, she could feel her lungs feeling charred by inhaling all this smoke and ash. Even if her lungs completely fell apart now, she wouldn't stop screaming until someone heard her.
Her hands were growing sore, but she hadn't cared. Her hits had became much harder, much more frantic until hitting the door made her hand sharp with pain. With a wince, she clutched her arm as her as her hand was entirely red. The pain was all in one side, throbbing and making her hand curl in such a tight fist. Her nails was grazing against the skin of her palm as she tried to stretch the muscle and was met with another spasm of pain. Since she was so fucked on the pain of her hand, she hadn't bothered to cover her nose and keep inhaling the smoke.
Pressing her back against the door to keep away from the fire, Cassandra kept her barking cough. At the end of them, a little whistling sound would emit. It didn't take a genius to know if she kept on inhaling this smoke and coughing, it was going to be impossible for her to even just breathe. Within the minutes, the coughs became thick and fast now, the struggle for air much greater than the need to get herself out of this place.
Her eyes turned to look at the fire, watching the flame gambol and flicker like they were dancing as they burned everything they touched. Soon it would come for her, burning her flesh down to her bone. To burn alive had to been one of the worst deaths. It wasn't quickly, just slow and torturous given the amount of fire. Cassandra knew death came for everyone, but she hadn't though it would come for her so soon.
The door behind her suddenly felt like it disappeared. She nearly fell backwards, but she was caught and pulled out of the burning place. Lifting her, Ser Rodrik had carried her down the staircase and to the corridor. He placed her down at her feet, his eyes roaming all over her to find any burns or wounds.
"Lady Cassandra, are you alright?!" He asked her, making sure as she stood there rather dazed with spurts of coughs emitting from her. Men passed them, buckets of water in hand to douse the fire, to salvage the library and to not let the fire spread elsewhere. The former princess was so shaken, so afraid, and so confused. Why did that man try to kill her? What was his purpose? She turned to Ser Rodrik and nodded mutely, making that her answer to him. But his concern was still there, it hadn't left nor lessened, it only increased.
"Cassandra!" Before she could turn to the voice, she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her, her body being crushed by the body she had only felt against her own once. The only difference was there was clothes between them now and he wasn't holding her for pleasure, but out of fear. One hand was pressed to the back of her head, keeping her gazing over his shoulder, and his other arm locked tightly around her middle as she felt like she was being crushed against him.
She wasn't sure why that now in Robb's arms that the need to cry had came so strong to her then. It should've came when she was locked in the tower, about to be burnt alive, but the tears were coming down her face like rivulets while she was within Robb's embrace. Her arms that had limply remained at her side had soon came to circle around him, her fist grabbing handfuls of his gambeson as she held onto him for what felt like for dear life.
"I almost…"
"But you didn't." He stopped her, seeming to know what she was going to say. "You're here, alive, and that's all that matters now." With her brows bowed and her lip being chewed between her teeth to keep herself from sobbing, she felt Robb pull away from her and cup both his hands to her face. Cassandra didn't want to look at him, she wanted to feel ashamed about being weak like this. She could've done a better job at protecting herself, she could've done so many things different, but most of all… She should've caught that man like she said she was.
"I… I let him get away." All he was was a blur to her now, a grey blur. Her tears kept pouring, hot with her anger.
He kept swiping away at the ones that poured from the corner of her eyes. She soon heard Josselyn's voice, panicked and out of breath from how hard she ran. "There has been attack on Bran's life, the Lady Stark is wounded."
STEFFON
The pavilion was crowded as they were made to stand. He thought that when his he and his mother arrived that they would be arriving late, but Lord Stark and his daughters were not even here yet. Steffon stood opposite of his father, mother, and Joffrey since he meant to oppose both his mother and his brother. He was sure his mother understood where he stood meant because she was frowning at him as her hand laid upon Joffrey's shoulder. Quickly coming in was a dirty, breeches wearing Arya, all by herself and without her lady sister Sansa. When Arya realized just how many people were here, she seemed quite tense under the many gazes, but she soon lost her fears at the sight of his brother. She found her anger bubbling for him all over again.
Lord Stark then followed behind and looked so relieved to see her. Steffon watched their little reunion, his father not caring how dirty she was as he held her and asking her if she was alright and where she had been before he decided to stand. "What is the meaning of this?" Lord Stark questioned as he looked around the pavilion and then at the king. "Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?" Hardly ever since he first met the North's Warden did he see the man so angry, but it concerned his daughter so it only made sense why he would take nothing lightly. "Why was she not brought to me at once?"
"How dare you speak to your king in that manner!" Steffon's eyes swept across the room to glare at his mother, ready to pry his lips open and tell her she was being outrageous.
His father didn't like her input neither. "Quiet, woman!" He ordered fiercely, straightening in his chair. "I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly."
"And what business is that?"
His mother stepped forward to speak again, but Steffon spoke in time. "An incident happened at the banks of the Trident, Lord Stark."
"An incident?" His mother repeated incredulously "Stark's daughter attacked your brother, my son, her and her butcher's boy! This isn't so small to be dubbed an incident, Steffon."
Raising a brow, he wondered just how Joffrey managed to make her believe this story he made up. "And how would you know, mother? That isn't what happened at all. You weren't there, you only have hearsay." His mother quieted at that, most people shocked that he spoke to his mother so rudely. It was either be rude or let the lies fly, and he chose the former without regret. Lord Stark turned to look at him and then down at his daughter.
"Prince Steffon is right, what the queen and Prince Joffrey says isn't true. He had to come and stop Joffrey because he was hurting Mycah!"
His father looked at him, wanting some confirmation. "She says the truth." Steffon told him, knowing the question in his eyes.
"That is not what Joff says, he says the Stark girl and the butcher boy beat him with clubs." Cersei continued on defending Joffrey. His words were truth to her ears, that's why the boy was so spoiled.
"And what Joff says is a lie." Steffon countered, his voice growing much more taut at his rousing anger. He wasn't going to have Joffrey getting away with this, not now or ever. If he had to grow up and face things then it was about time Joffrey did too instead of hiding behind their mother's skirts. At least Myrcella took more responsibility than he did. "They didn't even have clubs, they had broom handles. Joffrey came to taunt them and he unsheathed live steel on a little boy and a little girl thinking it was appropriate. I came to stop him before he even dared to hurt Lady Arya and the Butcher's boy."
"You lie!" Joffrey shouted, "They both attacked me, and she threw Lion's Tooth in the river so I couldn't protect myself!" It was obvious Joffrey wasn't even going to attempt to tell the truth about his part in it. Lion's Tooth wasn't even in his hand when Arya threw it in the river. The funny thing about it all is that, Joffrey wouldn't even look Arya in the eye as he said it. If you were going to lie then you must look someone in the eye to make it believable, but Steffon had reason to believe that Joffrey himself couldn't believe what he was spewing. He couldn't even act like he did.
Arya, fed up with Joffrey stupid tale, shook her head. "Liar!" She yelled, boldly as ever.
"Shut up!" Joffrey, like a child her age, barked back.
"Enough!" Steffon closed his eyes briefly, wanting pinch the bridge of his nose as his father roared and stood from his seat. This would've never have happened if Joffrey had minded his own business and left Mycha and Arya be. He should've just spent his time with Sansa, why did he have to do something crazy and malicious? "Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king." His king father looked over at Joffrey, trying to be fair. "When she is done, you will have your turn and then Steffon. Until then, you hold your tongue, Joff."
As Arya recounted the events from her perspective, the flap of the pavilion had parted and Sansa came walking in. Sansa kept her head bowed while Arya continued on, having got to the part where Joffrey's sword had been thrown into the Trident, which made his Uncle Renly laugh.
Robert hadn't enjoyed the fact that his youngest brother took humor in he turned his gaze to Selmy, "Ser Barristan, escort my brother before he chokes."
Trying to stifle the laughter that didn't seem to want to go away, Lord Renly held out his hand to stop Ser Barristan. "My brother is too kind. I can find my way out myself." Bowing to Joffrey, he stood straight with his blue-eyes laughing still. "Perchance later you'll tell me how a little girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a stick and throw your sword in the river." As Renly made his way to leave, Steffon had to hold his own laugh as Renly laughed again. "Lion's Tooth…" He nearly cried.
Joffrey was red in embarrassment and rage. Uncle Renly was not the only man who found all if this humorous, many others were snickering and trying to keep their laughs low. Steffon had saw his father send heated glares to them all, ready to kick them the whole lot of them out if they continued on.
Now it was Joffrey's turn, spinning a giant web of lies upon lies. Steffon had to control himself for not interrupting every five minutes or rolling his eyes or sighing halfway through it. Their own father acted like he didn't even care, he was sure that the man didn't give two shits about this squabble. He looked like a blank wall, probably thinking about food and drink right about now.
"Steffon," His father turned to him, that dull glaze leaving his eyes and focusing on him, "tell me what happened."
"I don't know the beginning for I missed that much. When I arrived to the Trident, I had saw Joffrey pointing Lion's Tooth at the butcher's boy. Arya had tried to disarm him, trying to knock the sword away to protect Mycah, and ended up hitting Joffrey on the head as she did." He had no problem lying about that last bit, if Joffrey and his mother could lie about their story for its entirety then he could add one in his own. "Then he turned his sword to Arya and that's when I used my own to keep Joffrey's down. He proceeded to inform me that Arya hit him and called her a number obscenities." Steffon looked down at Arya, who was smiling up at him and he gave her a smile in return. "Then I struck him." He made sure to look his father in the eye as he informed him that, "I was disgusted by his behavior and I hit him for it and told him to tell our mother what happened."
Robert looked to Joffrey, who was fuming now yet managed to keep his tongue like their father warned. "They weren't the only ones present," Ned told them, "Sansa, come here. Tell us what happened."
Steffon had reason to believe that Sansa wouldn't come to his defense. After all, she didn't like him much since he had struck Joffrey for his disgusting actions. Even now, she took her steps with hesitancy, she didn't look at all eager to speak. She looked to her sister first and then at Joffrey before she spoke. "I don't know." Closing his eyes, he sighed and shook his head. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see…"
"You rotten!" shouted Arya and before she could tackle her sister to the ground, Steffon picked her up to hold her back. "Liar, liar, liar, liar!" She was kicking, trying her best to escape his grasp, but he held her tight just not enough to crush her as he did.
"Arya, stop it!" Her father shouted at her, but Arya was too deep in her anger towards her sister. Steffon hardly knew how to calm her down, he reasoned that she eventually would. Sansa stared at her little sister, whose hands resembled claws as she tried to swipe at her.
"The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers. Robert, I want her punished." Whipping his head to glower at his mother, he hurriedly look to his father to see if he would submit to such extremities.
"Seven hells," His father said, "Cersei, look at her. She's a child. What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It's over. No lasting harm was done."
"What does she need punishment for when she did nothing wrong, mother?" Steffon demanded, not taking this lightly. "It was Joffrey's fault and he's the only one that deserves punishment."
"He needs a lesson and this was a good one. Fighting a little girl and then getting himself disarmed by one. He needs the discipline." Robert turned to look at him, nodded his head. "Steffon and Arya's story match and Steffon would never lie to me. He hasn't lied to me once in all his life while Joff has told me several. Discipline your daughter as I discipline my son, Ned. This matter is done and dead."
"And what of the butcher's boy?" His mother inquired, her taste for blood much to visible and making Steffon sick.
He already had a plan for all this. It was set in motion before his mother spoke to him and right when he returned back to their camp. He wondered just how they would react to all of this. What was he was about to say was bound to enrage his mother, but Joffrey even more. "I will be taking care of the butcher's boy. I already knight him."
The room was silent, swept away with shock. His mother blinked several times, "You what?!"
"I knighted him." Steffon rocked back and forth between his heels and the tip of his toes, his his hands clasped behind him. It would irate his mother more to act as if what he just done wasn't a power move. He pretended to be innocent, like he hadn't truly done something that completely took away all that she could possibly do to Mycah. "He wanted to play a knight and so I made him one. I assure you, mother, he and the butcher were very upset." A lie, but a lie that must be told. In fact, the butcher was grateful and delighted and Mycah was so happy. He was knight before half of the Kingsguard to bear witness and Steffon didn't mind doing the ritual over again before his father if need be. "He was supposed to inherit his father's caste, but he will be my knight instead. When he is ready and proper, he will become apart of my Kingsguard. I assure you, I won't let him off easy."
Mycah being apart of the Kingsguard in the future had been a random plan, but one that would come the the most use to him. Since he knew his mother had her own puppet strings within it, Steffon needed more than just Ser Barristan. He would need to convince a few more of them and add more to his own if he wanted to shift the balance of power. Not only that, Ser Barristan was getting quite old and couldn't be Captain of the Kingsguard forever. Whoever was next, it could be his uncle, and he didn't want that. It had to be someone who was undoubtedly on his side.
The tension was thick, his mother was in complete and utter shock. It was because she knew Mycah was untouchable to her now and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Others were shocked and others not so much because it would seem like an act of mercy, which indeed it was. Steffon was cunning in that aspect, but it would show others that Steffon believed in fair punishment and not the murder of children. Steffon knew appearances had to matter for all the things he planned to do. People will speak of these days where he spared the children of the lower-class and surely gain him favors in the future. Mycah's life did not solely hinge on what was right, but what was right that would come out of it for him being saved.
His king father had lit up with amusement. Steffon could guess that his father did not see him doing something like this, and probably had the faintest idea as to why he did. His father may not be so strong with logic, but he could see moves mapped and why someone would do what that they did. It should've been seen to him that Steffon saved Mycah on the principle of being kind and just than it was for anything else. "What's done is done, the boy's been knighted. We're all bloody done with this now. Now we can all leave." Anxious as he was to his cup of wine in bed, he was sure his father thought this to be the best entertainment he was ever going to get for the night.
Relieved that Joffrey nor his mother got their way, Steffon noticed that Arya had completely stopped her wriggling in his grasp. Her eyes were looking up at him big and shining. "You knighted Mycah?" The way she asked was mostly of surprise, but there was awe in her voice. It made him feel wrong that she had not seen through him, that she was seeing the surface of it all. "You were amazing just now."
"I did. Amazing?" Steffon didn't like that person he had to become. This person that had to outgun his own mother and brother, to go through all this just to achieve the right things. How did it all come to this? Then he remembered it was because his mother was treacherous and nothing like the mother he always envisioned her to be. The mother that he always felt sorry for, the mother that turned out to be a cold woman that did not mind killing children; innocent, harmless children.
Speaking of them, Joffrey had furiously pushed their mother's hand away as he stalked off, his mother was burning holes in the back of his head. He was sure his mother was going to tear into him for choosing strangers over his own "family". Family became before everything else to her and it once did to him too.
Ned Stark sent Arya and Sansa away with Jory, leaving the both of them in the empty pavilion. The silence lingered quite long, leaving Steffon finally being able to breathe, knowing that something could've possibly been wrong with his speedy actions. "You should've chose your mother, Steffon." Those words made the doubt in him grow into a large dark and grey cloud over him. He was so fixed on one-upping her, punishing her, that he hadn't realized that all of this could backfire on him or hollow he would feel using a child like this. He was so fixed on what he wanted to do and not at all of the outcome or how he would feel whilst doing it. "She is your queen mother, though she was rather harsh in her judgement now, she is still your mother most of all, but I thank you. I thank you for defending my daughter."
His eyes slowly lifted to look at Ned Stark, a smile playing about his lips. "I chose justice, Lord Stark, that's all." Was this justice? Was it truly? Steffon found himself wondering or was this just petty revenge he just did. It was nothing in the grand schemes of what he planned, but it felt like a kick to a lame lamb. "Besides, I'm quite taken with your youngest daughter. She's wild-spirited and good. I know the death of her friend would've been hard for her. It would've been hard for me as well. I don't have many friends, so I can't imagine what it feels to lose one. It must be something like this pain I feel right now having to endure my sister being afar."
The Warden nodded understandingly and presented him a smile, "You're quite an honorable lad, my prince." Honorable? It made him feel wrong to hear him be dubbed that. There was no honor and all the things he done. Steffon wanted to believe there was some honor in him, but from where? Honor was not inheritable in this family. His family was filled with people with tainted honor.
"You won't think that for long, Lord Stark." Steffon told him with light warning. "Honor does not live in the South as it does so vigilantly in the North. It is not so important to everyone as it is to you, remember that." If Lord Stark thought he rule as Hand with honor then he was a foolish man. A noble fool; a good-hearted fool but a fool no less. "You should learn that because in the days to come, you're going to see how barbarous the South truly is."
