Author's Note: This chapter is waaaaaaaaaay longer than I intended.
Loves to read books: Wow, I never knew that. The more you know. I guess it is a bit fitting in this time-period since everyone was discovering the potential of everything or it would be funnier to think that the healer was like "eat your veggies, kid". Lol.
HopelessRomantic44: You finally get to see what she says!
Lelleg: That would've been a great twist, honestly.
ImpSlapFury: I can't say for Ned, but Robb? That's a different story, I can say that. Anything I say can be a spoiler at this point.
kill3rdarren: I try, I try to be lengthy. Sometimes I don't know how I do it. I really don't. I see a lot of people agree with her, she is an interesting choice. I'm surprise you're giving Joffrey that much credit, but that could be possible! Still, I don't think many people would back him at this point. Steffon hasn't necessarily gave him ammunition... yet. Everybody loves Ned. Oh, and I loved the idea of Arya being a squire! That would be amazing, but I doubt Ned could ever approve of that, especially with how crazy things get down in the South. Those "dancing" lessons were a shock enough, you can tell he thinks this is all just a phase she's going through.
STEFFON
His bones were so weary, the constant travel left him unimaginably tired. Considering that he spent months back and forth down Kingsroad, he shouldn't have been so eager to go see his uncle, but he was. Whatever Stannis has learned must've been crucial and something that not just anyone should know. Certainly, if it was paramount to make him bolt back to this fortified home of his then Steffon needed to know of it. He wished he could've spent a little more time back in King's Landing though, just to see how Ned Stark was going to adjust to things. The man needed some help understanding the ways of the royal court seeing as he might melt before Autumn came.
Although tired, Steffon knew his uncle would not want him drowsy. Stannis was his uncle and they had an amity despite how most people seem to loathe his prudence. The man was rightly strict but fair, which was one of the admirable things about him. Perhaps his own sense of justice stemmed from the way his uncle was. If Steffon wanted to even be in his presence, however, he had to stand tall and be alert, his uncle would not any accept less. Even if he did poke and prod the man's patience with his sarcasm and desperate need to make the air lighter, he still had to put on airs of a "proper prince".
What he knew most of all was that he was going to get flack for not telling his mother that he had left King's Landing. Steffon left it up to his father to break the news to her that he would be temporarily in the Stormlands, much to her dismay. She would know better that he was not at Storm's End since Renly hardly left King's Landing for too long, so she was sure to easily pick up he went to Dragonstone. How would his mother feel upon the news? On the edge, he hoped. Surely whatever his uncle knew had to do with her. It just had to.
Blackwater Bay smelled much better the farther you went from King's Landing considering how foul his home smelled. When he was king, Steffon was more than set to do a massive clean up to make sure his home was beautiful as well as clean. Who wants to be the king of Westeros and reside in a dirty, smelly city? Not Steffon. His father didn't care about the stench or how littered the streets were and he doubted King Aerys before him cared about it either. Oldtown was much more beautiful and its air was so crisp that you could taste the sea breeze and not blanch. You would've thought it a home to a king, but sadly it wasn't. Steffon oft found himself jealous of how lovely Oldtown was and now he had to rebuild King's Landing to be much greater.
It only took a few hours to reach the small island of Dragonstone. He was flanked with servants as he reached the last step of the gangplank, immediately ready to tend to him but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "I am in no need of your services." He told them kindly, presenting a smile to those who were only doing their duties. The servants rather liked him, more than they liked his Uncle Renly. Steffon barely gave them work while his uncle had them shucking like fools over the stupidest of tasks when he rarely made himself to come here. Rare as his presence may be here, he always gave a ruckus.
He was led inside and made to follow one of his uncle's trusted guards. If he could remember correctly, the man was named Holden. The only reason why Steffon remembered his name was because the guard had always been qutie soft to his sister. When Cassandra came with him to Dragonstone when they were young, Holden endured her overbearing young mind filled with questions and dealt with her with patience. In fact, Steffon knew the man liked that someone looked to him as if he knew everything.
It was strange that out of all places they could speak, he was being led to Aegon's Garden. His uncle was not a man that held value of nature and yet the place had been kept in tip-top shape as if he cared for every berry and sprout that had grown. Whether it was for sweet Shireen or appearances, the boy hardly knew. And to see his uncle, with his stance filled with authority, looking out at the distance with his back turned had looked so strange to him. This was not the kind of setting Steffon thought this would all come down to. He thought it would be much more darker or perhaps, his own childish giddiness about being in the Chamber of the Painted Table was making his judgement so shotty.
"Nice weather we're having." His eyes roamed around the garden as his uncle slowly turned to face him, his face stern as always. "What? You wanted to talk outside in a garden, I thought the weather might be the perfect greeting."
Not a smile or a laugh. He expected that much. "I didn't think you'd arrive so soon, nephew. I thought for sure the days travel would've left you too weak."
"I'm a boy of seven and ten, Uncle. I have more energy than you and my father, you know." Crossing his arms, he leaned against a nearby oak tree since it was the closest thing for support. There was no bench nearby for him to sit on, so he figured this will do. "And the reason why we're in the garden?"
Before he could receive the answer, he heard what sounded like boots running against the stone-made walkway. Not a second given for his head to turn, a small body wrapped around his leg. "Steffon, you're here!"
Shireen. His little cousin. She had grown much taller than he saw her last. Eagerly, he lifted the girl in his arms and brought her in for a proper hug, feeling those skinny arms of hers wrap themselves around his neck. "Who told you to grow while I was away? You're supposed to stay a little girl."
She laughed in his ear, pulling back just a little so he could see her face. No matter the feel of greyscale or the sight of it, Steffon still thought her beautiful. Even if she did not hold the description of what it meant to be a beauty in Westeros, it was her smile that could outmatch any of the roses in the gardens of the world. It was her smile that had drawn Steffon in and never seem to let him go. Who knows what the future held for her anyway? She could be striking, even with that black and grey patch on her cheek and neck. A person could one day overlook the battle scar of a disease that usually took so many. Shireen was strong as an infant than most were as men, who would not find the allure in that? "I can't stop myself from growing, Steffon. Besides, you get taller every time I see you. You're a giant now."
"I think I'm taller than your father now." Both of them looked to Stannis, who rose a brow at such an observation. He did not smile, at least it wasn't on his lips. As much as his uncle despised showing much emotion, you could see it flash across his eyes every once in a blue moon. "Think I can beat your scary dad now that I am so tall?"
"No." Shireen shook her head, confident in her answer. "Nobody can beat my father."
Natural, he knew, for a girl to be on the side of her father. Steffon pretended to be wounded by her words, closing his eyes and sniffling. "I guess I'll just have to grow even taller."
"Do that and you won't fit through any doors." After a few more minutes of playful banter, he let her down on her feet like she had been the most fragile thing in the world. She looked as if she had more to say but with one look from her father, she knew better than to proceed. "Will you be staying for supper, Steffon?"
"If your father isn't so eager to kick me out, I'll stay for the month. I'm in no rush to go back home, especially now that I've seen you." Her lips curled into a smile as she lowered her head, pushing back some of her hair before meeting his eyes again. "I'll be in my room then. Mother wasn't too happy about letting me out but father knew you'd want to see me."
Her mother, huh? The woman was an odd one and Steffon usually kept his distance. He gave the woman pleasant greetings, smiles and all the courtesy a boy should bare for the wife of his blood, but he was always so quick to find distance and keep it. He wasn't sure what was really wrong with his aunt and he wasn't all too eager to find out.
"I'll always want to see you, Shireen. You can count on that." The little lady beamed at his words before bowing politely to her father and spinning on her little heels. The girl went running, her hair bouncing as she did, and he felt that little light she brought to him suddenly go away with her. How could such a sweet girl be born out of Stannis and Selyse? Steffon had no idea. Turning to his uncle, he gave a bow of his head. "No more distractions, I'm ready to listen."
Pleased, Stannis brought his hands behind him with one hand holding the other's wrist. "Before Lord Arryn's untimely death," He began, bringing a shiver down Steffon's spine almost immediately. Part of him at least hoped his mother nor his uncle had killed that man right under his nose. A trail of bodies was bound to be at their footsteps by Autumn and how enraged would he be to know a man he saw as a grandfather was brought to an end over a petty secret? "He and I went to a few places in Flea Bottom."
Startled, he wasn't prepared for a servant to come shuffling towards him with a small piece of parchment in their hands. The blond-haired prince took it without question, looking down with what looked to be like written locations. "He and I went to these places exactly."
Just what was important to have Lord Arryn and his Uncle Stannis so curious to see these places for themselves? His blue eyes looked to his uncle with question, but he was afraid that his uncle would not give him too many answers. This might have to be something he would have to personally investigate.
"You won't be surprised of all of what you'll find." Quirking a brow, Steffon pondered his words. Why wouldn't he be surprised? "It is what it all adds up to that will, my nephew." For a second, he thought that his stony uncle was being apologetic? No, not apologetic, empathetic. That he felt a shred of sorry about what was to happen at the end of all this. Steffon slowly made his eyes look back at the paper, his hands nearly trembling in apprehensiveness.
In all efforts to gather himself, to stop the spinning of thoughts and the shakiness of his hand, he decided to fix his mind elsewhere. There was another idea that he wanted to approach his uncle about, and he wanted to see if it was a well-thought plan. Who better than his uncle? The man might've been just Master of Ships, but he could trust his judgement on this matter. "There's something else I want you to help me with and it must be done quietly." Stannis looked at him from the corner of his eyes, a brow slowly raising in obvious curiosity. "I want some of your best sailors and a man you trust to speak with foreign cities."
"And why is that, nephew? This is a tall order." He knew it so, but if there was anyone could trust with this, it was his uncle. And once the man knew the reason, Steffon was sure it would be wholeheartedly supported.
"I am aware of the massive amount of debt my father owes to the Lannisters, my grandfather especially." Slipping the paper into the pocket of his breeches, the Crown Prince folded his arms as he tilted his head back to look at the rather cloudy sky. "And I want that to end."
"And you're proposing that we build a relationship with Myr for gold?" It disappointed him, just a bit, because he wanted to reveal that information himself. His uncle was just too cunning for him to get the full satisfaction of revealing this plan and he had to settle for telling Stannis that he was right.
"Correct." He said plainly, trying to hide his childish disappointment. "Who else better to benefit from?
From his peripherals, he thought he caught a smile on his uncle's face. It was because he blinked that he wasn't sure if he was imagining that or not, "And what will you give them in return?"
"Our hand. I've heard whispers that a war was brewing over there between Lys and Tyrosh, but these are just rumors. Who is to say they won't turn on Myr or even want Myr's help in order to fight the other? I could give Myr men if they needed them and that's more than they could want from us. Whoever they support could become useful as well, don't you think?"
A silence came and Steffon suddenly became nervous, unsure of what this quiet meant. Swallowing the lump in his throat, his arms uncrossed and lifelessly fell to his side. What if this was just a stupid idea? Was his uncle about to give him a lengthy explanation of how he was thinking too simply or not enough? Before he could say he wanted to take it back, Stannis replied.
"You're thinking like a king, nephew." Those words moved him, making his pride increase ten fold for what he wanted to save his kingdom. If he were to be king one day and for some reason, he surely thought his grandfather to outlive his father, he did not want to be a slave to Tywin's thumb. Steffon loved his grandfather, but he would not be anyone's puppet. Whoever ruled the treasury both in debt and duty had ruled the kingdom. The treasury needed to belong to a king again. It needed to be his. He must worry about the coins and stack them than to let a room that should be spilling with gold upon gold remain so empty. "I'll see what I can do. Until then, take a rest. You've had a long travel from Winterfell to here, you deserve that much."
CASSANDRA
Her eyes swung back and forth like a pendulum, watching how Catelyn Stark was staring at her son so intensely. You would've thought the boy would've froze into a block of ice just from her stare alone. Now she was forced to stand in the Godswood with Theon, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and Robb. Since they were the ones who made the oath ,right here in this very place, they were the ones to deal with why the oath had been broken.
It was never her intention to get Robb into trouble. Now she had to stand there and watch him be silently berated from breaking his mother's trust. He chose her, the wife he barely knew, over his own mother and while Cassandra knew how much of a big deal it was, she was only glad that it led her to the truth. That she had now found some way from letting this all escalate further. Who knows what could've came out of this. A war? No, her father still lived and would never war against the Starks.
"You said you wouldn't answer until you were before me." Lady Stark finally turned her attention to her, hands laced and back straight in all her Riverlands poise. "Now tell me who the dagger belongs to."
She usually spoke so warmly. Right now, however, Cassandra hardly knew who this woman was that stood before her. A distressed mother; a woman had been through a terrible month and week. A woman who had just about lost all her patience. "It belongs to my father." Seeing as the king had no connections to Bran's fall as well as his attempted murder, Cassandra thought it simple to at least speak that truth. "My father was made a sword when he first became king and the dagger was accompanied with it naturally. He usually keeps it in the armory since it is so valuable, but it was obviously stolen. My father doesn't carry daggers, he calls them a thief's hand. My father fights with a hammer, never a sword."
Her green eyes watched them digest her words. The Maester fiddled with his chain, eyes low as he seemed to be in thought before flicking his gaze back to Lady Stark. She seemed to be considering it for the most part, "And you have no idea who could have stolen it?"
Cassandra shook her head, "No," she herself was still pondering who could have, "I did not know it was stolen in the first place. It has never left the armory save for a time my father used it to bet against my Uncle Jaime during a tourney, who was up against the Knight of Flowers and was unhorsed. He had bet with Lord Baelish and won. He bragged about it for days since my father is simply terrible at winning bets."
"Could your uncle have stolen it?" Ser Rodrik questioned, she assumed that this would be asked.
"Never." Finding her confidence, she straightened herself and kept her expression free of any questionable twitch or aversion of gaze. "When would he have the time? My uncle is much more diligent in King's Landing than he ever was here. I suppose he thought he had some freedom in the North since who would dare bring the king harm in such a place? I was unhappy about him staying here, I even spoke of it to my husband as I saw him off to the hunt."
Her eyes slew to Theon, knowing that Robb's confirmation wouldn't be enough. The Greyjoy halfway frowned, sighing as he crossed his arms. "She did. I remember."
Should she defend her mother? Would they bother to ask how Cersei Lannister found her way to the armory and nobody questioned it? Cassandra didn't think they would and she was relieved to hear her mother had not been mentioned. "And the Imp…" Lady Stark muttered, making the young girl frown. Imp? How could she call her uncle that in front of her? Small as he may be, it was not by choice and even if it was, he was still a person. Imp was an insult.
"Dwarven I believed it is called, goodmother." It took everything in her not correct her so vehemently, but the flare was there in her eyes. "My Uncle Tyrion could buy a thousand daggers of his own, why take my father's? The two actually get along reasonably, at most times, and stealing for him is like a death sentence. I do doubt with all my being that my uncle would even begin to think of maiming a boy seeing as he was with your lord husband as well as my father during the hunt. It might come as a surprise to you all, but he is quite soft at heart to children despite his… reputation." Considering how colorful her uncle's daily life was, she could see how hard it was to come to his defense. It seemed like most of the men in her family liked to whore on an everyday basis save for a good few, "My uncle is also intelligent, renownedly so. He wouldn't be so stupid. Whoever did this was cruel and stupid."
Who could it be now? Joffrey was at the hunt as well along with her father. Joffrey might've had such a scary streak, but throwing Bran off a tower seemed like the unnecessary extreme for him. Unless, however, the boy did something to get him so irate. Maybe that wasn't too hard to believe actually. Steffon being involved didn't cross her mind not once. Tommen and Myrcella? There was no way those two were even capable of such things. Her family was in the clear as she fought it to be. As she knew them to be. There was no reason for anyone to suggest they would harm Bran and send a man to kill him.
"And how am I to know you're telling the truth?" Cassandra hadn't thought of that. She had no proof whatsoever. What evidence could she give? She only had words and one witness over such a small, insignificant portion.
"You don't know, my goodmother." It was a simple answer and the only one she had. "You could either take my word or not take it. I am no liar; I have a clean name. I care for this family because it is mine now. My blood, however, is still very important to me. If I had reason to believe they had done something so… so horrifying, I would condemn it…openly."
The nod was subtle as the woman slowly smiled. "I see." Was all she said, not giving her any indication if she believed this or not. Even though it was the truth, Cassandra couldn't help but to feel that maybe the woman didn't believe her. If that was the case then what would happen? All she could was watch the Tully-Stark leave her, letting her stand in the Godswood with Theon, Ser Rodrik, and the Maester trailing behind shortly after her. Robb had stayed, giving her some solace that she had not been abandoned or deemed an enemy.
"You could've lied." His words surprised her, leaving her brows raised at what he actually suggested. "But you didn't…" Out of them all, Robb believed her. She knew that for a fact. He stood there, smiling and his eyes giving her no signs that he thought her a liar in efforts to save her family's own skin.
Her heart felt like it was swelling with happiness or was it relief? She was unsure. What made her happy and relieved now wasn't that she tried her damndest to protect her family, but that there was someone on her side, Robb most of all. "Will you regret this?" She found herself asking him, a little afraid to hear his answer.
Briefly, he turned his head away and looked out into the woods of this serene place of worship. His lips formed a smile, his head shaking every so slightly. "No." He sounded honest, like he truly believed that.
Extending her arm, she took hold of Robb's leather, gloved hand. She could feel the warmth seeping through the material, easing the chill that prickled all over hers. Robb was like that, like a warm blanket to shield you from the cold. All he had ever done these past few days was protect her, even at the cost to anger her. Now she owed him that same kindness. Whether it be from himself, his own mother or her very own, who planned to see him as some sort of piece for her daughter to manipulate should she have need of it.
This minuscule piece of affection, small compared to all he had done for her, would cement that promise. He might have not known it, he might've thought this was her just being grateful. Robb Stark had done something she didn't want and that was leave a mark on her that couldn't be easily washed away. Whatever this feeling was that was hazing over her heart and mind, it was something she will safeguard until her days were exhausted.
CERSEI
"What do you mean Steffon has gone to Dragonstone?" Why did Steffon not personally inform her? Why did it take her drunkard husband to tell her this? Her eyes nearly turned to slits, her ire rising like the fanning of flames. How could he just run off and not tell her? Anything could have happened to him and she would have not been made aware. He was the Crown Prince, but her son most of all. He had to be protected at all costs.
"As I damn well said it, woman. He went to Dragonstone and told me to tell you he did." Robert hated repeated himself, especially to her. The fool didn't realize her hearing be so perfect, she was mainly questioning herself than she was acting unsure of what he meant. "Don't know why he wants to see Stannis so much anyway." Even Robert questioned that, which had seem so unlike him. Their eldest boy could do no wrong in his eyes and yet his sudden rush to see that bore and prudish Baratheon made the both of them curious.
Wringing her hands, Cersei tried to think of what would be so important for the boy to see his uncle. Did Stannis request it? Possibly. The two of them got along rather well considering their personalities were so vastly different. Steffon was a lively boy, a personality that was unlike hers because he enjoyed being social. Cersei lost that feeling long ago when her only good friend had to die when she was younger.
"Have you…" The queen's ears perked upon her husband's voice, she had half a mind to ignore him, but something willed her to listen. "Have you heard anything from Cassie?"
He missed her. Cersei presumed he would. She was their first girl, given to them at the same time as their first boy. They had known her for seventeen years and now she was suddenly gone, ripped from them. It was all his doing, so she hoped the pain was far more worse. It could've been worse than how she felt though. A piece of her felt like it was missing, like her heart wasn't all the way full. "No I haven't, my love." She told him quietly. "Send her a raven as I will when you are ready."
Robert was not a fan of letters, she knew. He'd rather get it all out in the open, but that could not be done. Their daughter was miles away in a frigid wasteland filled with barbarians. He did that. He did that because of his obsession with the Starks and now he had the audacity to feel pained by it. "I didn't think I'd miss that girl this much."
"She is our daughter." Cersei kept her eyes lowered, halfway closed. "Of course you would."
Unable to keep herself from even daring to stand in his presence any longer, she decided to leave the solar. It was quite startling to know her daughter wouldn't have her own place in the North. They shared a room instead of having their own, meaning Cassandra woke up and went to sleep with Robb Stark beside her. A child was bound to be born at this rate and Cersei knew her daughter was ripe and fertile, but she didn't want to think of her little girl having a little one of their own just yet. Her own vanity didn't want to think she'd be a grandmother any time soon either. She was too young to be one, she reasoned. Her hand still grasping the straws of her beauty, even at the cost of her own family.
The warm hallways of the Red Keep were dimly lit, only letting such a shallow half of the sunlight touch her and the smooth floors. Her heels clicked and soon drowned into nothing in her ears since memories of years ago began to resurface. Almost like past scenes became real, her eyes thought they had seen a little Steffon and Joffrey ripping and running the halls. Their faces held glee, the one where their eyes were squint clothes and their grins were from ear to ear.
A smile began to bloom on her own face and became to completion when Joffrey fell on his wobbly, red knees. Pained only just a little, he grimaced, and tried his best to hurry himself right on his feet. Steffon had came before he got himself upright, his little hand held out for his little brother to take. He helped him up, held his hand, and ran with him to make sure he wasn't left behind again. Just seeing such a memory again had made her eyes become glassy with tears she didn't think she should shed.
Those times were simpler, kinder. All her children were nearby and her boys got along with no wrinkles or rifts. Now they fought, they glared, and they argued. Neither one made the first step to mend their relationship, neither one apologized. Neither one tried to salve the wounds they made to one another verbally and now it became physical. It was up to her, queen and their mother most of all, to rectify things. She had to pull her older boys back together, especially since the fate of the kingdom rested in their hands. Steffon would be king and Joffrey would be Warden of the West in their grandfather's place in the future should all be right. They needed each other and most of all, she needed them.
"I hear the Crown Prince has left and gone to Dragonstone." Gossiping servants came fluttering in her ear. Cersei would've paid them no mind had it not been her boy they were yapping about amongst each other. "Why is he so eager to see Lord Stannis?"
"Who knows." said the other servant, "Why should anyone care? Probably royal business."
"But he only just returned. Why be so quick to see his Lord Uncle? Surely, he should get himself properly rested before travelin' again. It might have something to do with what happened on the road, don't you think?"
Now things were much more interesting. Keeping herself still, she made sure that nobody had noticed her in the hall. It was still quite empty, letting her hear word for word without her leaning closer to the sources because of any sudden noises. "What happened on the road?"
"They say Prince Steffon slapped his brother at the Trident." What a terrible rumor to spread. Surely, it would be so unfavorable to Steffon. "They also say that the reason why is because Prince Joffrey struck the little Stark girl. He threatened her to end her with his blade, and Prince Steffon saw with his own eyes and was so furious!"
A gasp and then some silence before it was quickly refilled with conversation. "Why would Prince Joffrey do that? I just hope the girl will substitute Prince Tommen. The little prince gets enough of his brother's ridicule."
It struck her nerves to hear them talk about Joffrey this way. Her boy was just a little mean, but he meant well. He played with Tommen so roughly because they were boys and that was just simply how boys were. Tommen was just young, soft and sweet, but he had to grow some thicker skin and Joffrey was preparing him for that. That was all.
"I don't know…" The servant sounded quite confused, unsure of herself. Probably because she didn't know what she was talking about, Cersei reasoned. Whether or not to make them quiet or punish them for their insolence was up in the air. "I have a feeling the castle most certainly will be less than boring."
"Has it ever been?" Finding something humorous in that, Cersei suppressed a snort and decided to move along. She was no longer entertained by their gossip and thought a proper visit to Maester Pycelle was in order. The old man was right under her thumb. Surely, he would give her a lengthy discussion of Ned Stark's first council meeting as Hand. During the way, however, she would have those chattering servants would receive ten lashes each. Nobody would bad mouth her boy and not face her wrath.
CASSANDRA
"I don't want you to tell Steffon about any of this." Her words were stern, not a hint of a smile on her face as her eyes stared at her friend who was organizing her wardrobe. Josselyn didn't pause or change her pace, she kept folding the dresses into the neatest of squares that were hand washed and dried by servants. "The last thing I need is for him to worry."
"I understand." There was a but coming, Cassandra could feel it. Her eyes closed and a sigh escaped her right before it was said, "But he'll figure it out. With Lady Stark going to King's Landing, he's bound to find out some way or another. And you know how he'll react, hearing that you nearly met your end in a fire. And not only that, for your family to be to blamed for the near murder of Lord Brandon…" Tsking, she shook her head. "He'll explode, most certainly."
He most certainly would and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. Steffon trusted her to be safe here. How would he feel if he knew she was unable to rightfully protect herself that day? He would be angry, but most of all disappointed. How could she, skilled by the sword under his tutelage, nearly let that man get away with killing her? She still felt guilty about it, the anger kept gnawing at the pits of her stomach and she desperately tried to ignore it. For a good hour she would forget and then it came back with a vengeance all over again.
"Please?" Hopeless, Cassandra couldn't find it in herself to really want to beg. It was her pride that was still freshly wounded on so many wavelengths, and this would just make a deeper gash if Steffon were to know.
The blonde-haired girl sighed, stopping mid-fold. "Alright, I won't tell him." Relieved by that, Cassandra flopped down in a chair with her hands barely laying on its arms. "He's going to find out and be more pissed that neither of us told him. If he comes running his way here, I'm pointing my fingers at you."
By the breath of the Mother and the Father, she'd rather have been burnt alive than having Steffon come back here in such a rage. At least she would've been soundly dead and not be there to bare witness to it. Her brother was, for the most part, the cold cold kind of angry, not the hot kind like she was. He had their mother's temper, who at times could be like tumultuous waves and other times, cold and calculating. She'd rather be like their father: seething, red-faced, shouting and name-calling all while ready for violence. As of lately, however, she learned she couldn't always hit at the objects and people that riled her.
"With Lady Stark away, you are the Lady of Winterfell." Strange as it was, it was true. With all that was going on, her goodmother wasn't in the right mindset to actually teach her how to govern this place as its lady and now what was she to do? How could she fulfill her duties if she didn't know what they were? There were people she would most certainly have to meet and things that had to be done around here. Perhaps asking Lord Luwin for advice would be the wisest thing to do.
"Does it matter? I can hardly be a good one for I have had none of the lessons." Cassandra replied with disinterest, mainly because she wasn't sure how this was supposed to work. "Lady Stark didn't think she would have to give me such a position so soon and her mind is too warped in her grief to care."
Josselyn gave her a pitiful look, her eyes sad and empathetic. Cassandra didn't want that, she didn't want to be pitied, but she couldn't just tell the girl to stop it. It was because Josselyn cared that she had done it, so what would be the point in being angry? Sighing, she tilted her head back, closing her eyes some as she tried to cool her nerves by thinking less harshly. Perhaps she should just start thinking less most of all.
Robb was away with his duties, Rickon was in his lessons, and Bran was still asleep. There was no one to bother outsider her ladies-in-waiting and handmaidens or even her closest friend. Ever since the fire, she didn't dare go near the library tower because she still had flashes of her near death, so much that she could barely breathe thinking about the tower. All her mind and body could remember was the smoke filling her lungs, the rawness of her throat, and the constant coughing that pained her lungs. It was hard to look at fire now and not think about it, but she knew could get over these fears. They were fresh, temporary.
"Cassandra, are you really not worried about Lady Stark going to King's Landing?" Sinking further into the chair, she raised her leg to hang over the chair, deciding to be completely lazy in her comfort. Her posture was entirely unlady-like, but who was she meant to impress now? Certainly not Josselyn.
"Why should I? I have defended my family as best I can." Her eyes observed Josselyn's features, seeing clear doubt. "What more can I do? I encourage her to tell her husband what happened to Bran. He deserves to know, Brandon is his son after all."
"True but…" Before she could finish, the door slowly open. Throwing her leg down and sitting upright again like a proper lady, Josselyn immediately smoothed out her dress, her head bowing immediately. "Lord Stark."
Robb walked in with tired steps. His eyes were drooping, almost like they had every day since he took up being Lord of Winterfell in entirety. "I was just leaving." Smirking at Cassandra quickly, Josselyn gave the proper courtesy and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind her.
"Are you going to listen to me for once and take a break?" Cassandra asked him, raising her eyes to properly look at him as he removed his fur cloak.
"Do I look that bad?" He had to nerve to ask her that. The good in her wanted to lie, but Cassandra didn't want to be dishonest over something so minuscule.
"Yes." She told him sharply, "You look like you've been kicked around." Crinkling her eyes, she withheld a snort as he gave her a sloth-like glower. He didn't even have it in him to give her a look something menacing because he was too tired. The poor lad, she thought. "I shall tell someone to draw you a proper bath, Seven knows you need one."
"Not only am I being told I look terrible, you say I smell awful as well?" Unable to fathom how the insults kept being hurled at him, Robb quickly rose an arm to sniff his armpit. Cassandra caught his sour expression immediately afterwards. "I suppose…" Embarrassed now, his eyes shyly didn't meet her own, "that I do need a bath."
Withholding her laugh, trying not to let even the smallest of sounds of it loose, she shifted her attention to the sudden knock on their door. Leaving Robb to contemplate her words of truth, she opened the door to see a messenger. "My lady," he bowed his head upon the sight of her, "you've received a raven from your uncle, Lord Tyrion."
Curious, she allowed the man to place the letter in her hand. "Thank you and as you go, could you tell one of the servants to draw my lord husband a bath?" With an eager nod, she graced the young man with a smile before letting him go and closing the door.
Unfolding the letter, her eyes stayed glued to her uncle's neat and familiar handwriting. "He says before he heads home, he will come to visit me once he leaves the Wall." She informed her husband, who was gazing straight at her face with a question nearly ready to leave his lips. "Are you content with that?" After believing her family had something to due with the near assassination of Bran, would Robb feel uneasy of having her uncle visit them?
A look of thought came across his face before he shook his head. "He is your family, he is welcomed to see you as he likes." Robb didn't sound enthusiastic, which she should've expected. He seemed neutral on the matter, but who was to say if he wasn't placating her? His mother thought sourly of her uncle and she was sure Robb might share the same feelings. What did her uncle do to make Lady Stark dislike him so? Was it because he was a dwarf? Possibly. Could it be his reputation? Most likely. Most people, ladies especially, did not like the trail of rumors and truths that followed his footsteps.
Nevermind her husband's feelings on her uncle, Cassandra was happy to see him. She wanted to hear everything about the Wall, hear the stories of the people and some of the history he uncovered while he was there. Her uncle always had a fascinating way of storytelling, drawing you in and leaving you eager for more. Not only that, he always added a joke here and there that kept you laughing while on the edge of your seat.
The servants came tub carried and buckets of steaming hot water she assumed to be from the springs she heard about. Her eyes watched them curiously as they filled the tub, adding scents that would rid her husband of the sweat and smell of outside that was deep into his skin. When they left, she had no idea he would begin to strip himself of his clothes right away. Uncomfortably, she quickly turned her back on him, acting as if she never seen him naked before.
It was only once, a memory that burned itself in her mind.
She could hear the splashing of water and the relaxed sigh once he settled himself in. After what seemed like the appropriate amount of time, she cautiously turned her head to look at him. He was fully seated in the tub and his lower half was out of her sight due to the rippling of the waters, concealing the rest of him from her gaze with the help of distortion of light and space within their room.
The smile of his face was content, like he had needed this bath all day. Where was her thanks? She stubbornly wondered. If it weren't for her, he would've been tired and dirty. "Better?" She asked him, innocent in her stubbornness.
"Better." The need to frown was so strong in all its childish glory. "If you want, you could join me."
"W-What?" He said it so flippantly, like it was a pure suggestion and the intention of it all was not as sexual as it implied. With her eyes wide and shock on her face, she was bewildered of how her husband could so casually suggest something like that.
Robb's eyes crinkled, smile on his face. "I was only joking." Relieved, she shook her head.
"You know, I think you get a real kick out of annoying me, Robb Stark." Haughtily, Cassandra raised her chin. "And what if I were to have agreed? How would you feel then?"
Surprised by her answer, his brows rose. "I… I didn't think you would."
"Is that a challenge?"
"I wasn't challenging you… I…" Yes, now he was the one properly flustered. Smirking, she couldn't help but chuckle.
"See? See how it feels when it done to you?" He looked like a little boy, ready to pout, before stubborn turning his face to look away from her. Whether it was to save face or because he was still shocked by her suggestion was unknown to her as he sunk himself lower into the water.
The bath did look nice. She could tell the waters were hot from the way his pale skin reddened in some areas and the constant steam that rose from the surface. She always bathed in the wee hours of the morning, right after he left for privacy, and then right after dinner before he returned for the night. Not once did Robb see her bare as the day she was born after their consummation.
"I'm sorry you weren't able to handle my joke." An apology or a means to rile her? Cassandra couldn't see the clear and cut difference.
With a snort, she shook her head. "I can handle your jibes and jokes." She told him matter-of-factly, "But you are another matter entirely." The last bit came out softer, her voice losing its volume as if she didn't want him to hear it. "And there is no desire within me to lose to you."
STEFFON
The month had gone much faster than he would've thought it would. It almost felt like only a good week had gone by, but it most certainly more. Steffon missed his home for the first time and days, so much so that he was a little joyus to be sailing Blackwater Bay back to the Red Keep. His sudden happiness made him rejuvenated, perfectly ready for any obstacle that dared show itself before him now. After Stannis helped him make quiet moves, stretching his name and hand all the way to Myr, Steffon was sure that everything would fall into place when he expected them to.
When he left the harbors and was escorted by guards to his home, he didn't expect for the air in his home to seem much more chaotic than it was when he left. There was something off to him, but he couldn't properly place what had been changed or afoot. He was made aware of the many letters piled on his desk from many lords that wrote him. Why did they want to speak to him suddenly? Steffon didn't have the slightest idea to why and he wasn't sure he was going to like what they had to say.
His brief encounter with Ned Stark had been only of hello's. The man looked like he aged within the span of time Steffon spent away. He looked tired, unsure, probably because everything he knew and all his morals were made to be question on the daily basis. Why did this man still think his Northern honor and values could touch light and heal the sinners of the South? He was still foolish in that regard, but did Steffon's respect for him grow some since he was so adamant about it.
By the time Steffon reached his bedchamber, he was shocked at the amount of letters that piled on his desk. It would've been impossible for them to gone unnoticed and it made him wonder if his mother or one of her spies tried to rummage through them. Gods know she had to wonder why these lords took a sudden interest in him and because she was his mother. Mothers didn't exactly know privacy and letting their children live their own lies without them knowing everything that went on in them.
As soon as he picked up the first letter, the seal of House Tyrell, a knock was at his door. Annoyed by the interruption, the Crown Prince briefly closed his eyes to temper his ire. "Enter." He told them, loud enough for them to hear him.
The door opened, revealing a servant. "My prince, your father requests an audience with you right away."
He didn't expect any less, so he obliged by telling the servant to inform his father he'd see him right away. They went scurrying off, properly closing the door behind him as Steffon looked back at the sealed envelope. It didn't look broken, meaning that nobody had rummaged through it. Surprised as he was, he was more than grateful. Perhaps it was Ser Barristan that made sure his letters quietly made their way to his desk without any of his family members knowing.
Joffrey wouldn't have taken interest in any of this. The only time he came to Steffon's room was to bother him or take something he liked, but that was back when the both of them still played and fought over Cassandra's miniature carved toys.
Laying the letter back down onto the pile, he left his chambers to make his way to his father's. It was the place his father liked to hold his meetings, which Steffon always loathed. As many times as his father brought women into the bedroom, the air always smelled of wine and sex, which always left Steffon so uncomfortable.
Much to his surprise, Jaime stood on guard in front of his father's chambers. He looked bored and annoyed most of all, which entertained Steffon just a little. Once his footsteps were loud enough for his uncle to hear, Jaime turned to face him and hitched a brow. "You've returned, finally. I almost thought you were trying to make a home on that dreadful Dragonstone."
"Missed me?" Unsure of what to say without sounding condescending, he tilted his head curiously at his forced playful persona. "Nothing was the same while I was away, was it?"
"Hardly." Jaime answered him, nearly sighing as he did. "Your mother wasn't too fond of your little runaway. Why did you not inform her of your trip yourself?"
Good, he thought. That was exactly what he wanted. He wanted his mother annoyed and suspicious of why he left so suddenly. Whenever his mother was angry, she became easier to read and figure out. The woman held such good cunning half of the time, but lost it all when she was angry. Sometimes you had to provoke the lion to find its weakness as dangerous as it was, but if you enter the lion's den then you have no regard for your own safety. You might as well do as much as you can while you were still alive.
"Mother doesn't like Uncle Stannis," Raking his fingers through his golden hair, Steffon shrugged his shoulders lazily. "Why bother to annoy her by the mere mention of name?"
"Because she is your mother and you are her son." He was told plainly, "She wishes to know where you go, especially if she doesn't like who you went to see." As if he of all people had the right to lecture him. Sometimes Steffon couldn't just believe how clear his mother and uncle's relationship really was and how he just took this for sibling love. This overprotectiveness was too the extreme. Not even Steffon himself behaved this way to Cassandra or bothered to defend her over the littlest of things like this. His uncle nearly thought his Cersei was the Mother in the faith of the Seven from how hard he fought for her.
"I did not come here to be lectured, Uncle." Steffon said briskly, unable to hid his apparent aggravation. "I came to see my father and now I am here. Now, will you please inform him of that?"
Jaime looked as if he wanted to scold him for his attitude, but his stare said it all. Steffon did not back down or look away, he challenged him as he waited. Jaime knocked first before halfway stepping into the room to alert Robert that Steffon returned and came to see him.
When the door was pushed open wider to allow him, Steffon walked past Jaime without another word or glance. He stood a few feet, looking at the corner of his eyes for the door to close. When it did, he rose his head to look at his parent. "Father." Bowing his head in the manners of a prince and son, he watched his father give a nod of acknowledgement before maneuvering his hand to direct Steffon to take a seat before him.
With a few more steps, Steffon sat down in the seat and leaned back, his limbs lazily resting on the arms of the chair. "Back from Draongstone…" Robert rose a brow, holding out his gold chalice for Lancel to stumble his way towards desk in order to pour him a measure of wine. Steffon briefly looked to his cousin, nearly wanting to curl his lips in disdain. Lancel gave him a stiff nod, which he returned just as casually. "Somethin' tells me that you be up to somethin', boy. And I want to know what it is."
Now his father had reason to question just what he was doing? Did he really make all his actions so loud? No, Steffon didn't think so. It seemed normal for his father to question why he went on running to Dragonstone. He had every reason to question why he went anywhere. "All I have done was go visit Stannis, father." Presenting the most honest expression he could conjure, his father's eyes went squint with skepticism. "Surely, you are overthinking it."
"Overthinking it?" His father repeated incredulously, "I'm supposed to believe you suddenly missed that borish uncle of yours? Ha!" His laugh was loud, filled with sarcasm as he took a large gulp of Dornishwine. "You can't fool me, Steffon. I knew you since you were a wailing babe at your mother's teat, I know when you're up to something."
That irked him. Steffon couldn't help but clench his jaw concerning that. As much as he loved his father, the man wasn't properly there for his mother when he was a babe. Sure, a few times he came and lifted him in the air and bragged about having a son. Other than that? It was his mother who did everything as much as Steffon hated to admit it. His father did not raise him in his early years, he only sought to make Steffon a proper prince when he was at least seven.
"I'm not trying to fool you, father." Sitting upright, the blond-haired boy locked his fingers to make a bridge for his chin to rest on, allowing his elbows to sink into his knees. "I swear to you that I am not up to anything."
"Then tell me why you went." Persistent on the matter, wasn't he? It only served to grate on Steffon's nerves. His father usually did not question him or press for matters too much, a lot of it due because of the obvious favoritism. Steffon used to use it into his advantage for having his way, but his father seemed too suspicious to allow that to work presently.
Now allowing himself to sigh, he quickly thought of a proper way to rid his king father of this obvious wariness. "Did you not find it strange why uncle suddenly left King's Landing? Just right after Lord Arryn died." Robert straightened up in his seat, brows slowly coming together as he seemed to take his words into consideration. "He is the Master of Ships, why would he suddenly leave like that? Unless," He emphasised, "Unless he thought something was awry."
It might've served him some purpose to allow his father to be so cautious. For once, maybe his father could open his wide and see all the lying, scheming, and treachery all around him. As much as Steffon wished his father could gain some perspective, Steffon knew that was entirely unlikely. His father was blind because he chose to be. It was a matter of choice, and maybe just a little bit of naïveté. When will he see that games and murder happened so casually around here? "You think Stannis knows something about it?"
"That was I originally thought, yes." Some truth, some lie. It was easier this way. "But he knew nothing." He brought his acting skills to forefront by sighing in what seemed to be disappointment. He shook his head, slowly with doubt. "I had him tell me of the events that happened leading up to Lord Arryn's death, but he only told me little without any leads."
Robert himself seemed a bit disappointed about it. He gave an understanding nod, fingers tapping against the surface of the desk. "I see." He settled, relieving Steffon that his plan worked. His father was easy to fool, which was sad since the man was the king.
"How is Lord Stark doing as hand?" Shifting the conversation for a means to not let his father think too much on his trip and because of his own curious, he saw his father's eyes lit up with interest. The man usually didn't care about politics, seeing as how he barely ran his own lands, but surely he had an opinion of his best friend was handling things around here. "Also, how is the Hand' tourney coming along? I was sure I might miss it."
"Stiff as he always been." Robert scoffed, a small smile on his face. "He hasn't changed a bit." For some reason, Steffon didn't honestly believe that. There had to be some difference between Ned Stark now than years ago. "I see little to no improvements, but I hear he has some things planned and has been moving around." Basically, Ned Stark was either allowed to do little or something had completely soaked his interest. He suspected the latter, but what could it be? Steffon intended to find out."It just better be coming along, Ned almost proposed he shouldn't have one." Unnecessarily, Robb slammed his hand on the table, "That's not how things go around here."
"Most certainly not." Steffon complied eagerly, nodding as he did. "How are you feeling?" He finally asked, concerned for his father's well-being. "You seem…better after Lord Arryn's passing."
Steffon spoke to their father right after he spoke to Lord Arryn for the last time while the man was known to be on his deathbed. Back then, his father was a drunken mess who was only concerned about speaking about the past; Lyanna, the Rebellion, and his days are a ward with Ned Stark. He constantly spoke of how Lord Arryn was like a father to him. It seemed as if the wound of the loss was healing, slowly but surely.
"I'm fine, boy." Robert insisted, trying to act unbothered by it all. "People die, you just have to get over it."
Simple as those words were, Steffon had no reason to believe his father believed in any of that. Death seemed to have a strong impact on him because he never forgot or let go of any of those that died; whether it was his father and mother, Lyanna Stark, and now Lord Arryn. His father grieved in the worst ways for them.
"There's somethin' else we need to talk about, Steff." He had hoped that he would be able to leave now, but he was sorely mistaken.
"What is it?" Halfway curious and halfway wanting to speed this along, Steffon tried to remain interested in what his father had to say.
"It seems you've grown quite popular." Confused, Steffon bowed his brows with a frown. "After hearing that I let your sister marry Ned's boy and engaged Joff to his daughter, many lords are curious if you are ready to marry yourself."
Ah, so that's what all those letters were about? Lords trying to give him sweet words so that he could take a chance to glance at their daughters? Steffon knew he couldn't remain unmarried, especially since he was the Crown Prince. His marriage was more more imminent than both Joffrey and Cassandra's, but they were married and engaged before he was.
"Whether I'm ready or not doesn't really matter, now does it?" Robert laughed at his question, downing more of his wine after his loud outburst. How could marriage fit into his plots of revenge? It would ruin it most likely. With a wife at his side, he couldn't abandoned her on a daily basis to make sure his mother and uncle would suffer for the consequences of their actions.
Sinking into the seat, Steffon knew he had to act interested. If he kept putting the marriage off, rumors would circulate that he slighted many of the lords that offered their daughters or that he enjoyed men in his bed like it was implied his Uncle Renly did. He couldn't feed into either rumor, but he also didn't need a woman he barely knew ruining things. How long could he hold this off without upsetting anyone? Now that an another obstacle was before him, Steffon didn't feel as confident as he did after the boat docked.
NED
It was a whole week since Prince Steffon returned and the boy had been strangely quiet. He roamed the castle halls like any other prince would, like he had seen Joffrey do, but Ned thought the boy would be much more harder to find as of lately. With his suspicions, he thought the boy would give chase, make his trails without any bread crumbs, but he had been docile. After Robert's own concerns with his son's actions, it seemed as if Steffon knew he had to wait it out. And when he finally thought to do what Ned knew he intended, he would make sure that Jory would be the one to follow him.
It could've been that with the reasons of night coming all this way from all over parts of the realm for this tourney, he was keeping himself quiet. Robert was in a rush to have the boy a proper wife, a woman who would undoubtedly be a queen in the future. Steffon didn't seem enthused about it at all, reminding Ned when he was suddenly told he had to marry Catelyn upon the death of Brandon. He was not ready, he did not want Catelyn then, but he was happy things worked out the way they did. Whenever he felt that happiness, the guilt came along with it due to the fact that Catelyn came with the cost of losing Brandon.
"What is your intrigue with Prince Steffon, my lord?" Jory finally asked, he had done his orders without question, but now he thought it time that he knew why Ned kept an eye on the boy.
"He either knows something or is trying to know of something in particular." Of that he was sure, "And whatever it is, I see it as no small matter."
Jory gave a nod, coming to understand where Ned was coming from. "And you think he would keep it secret from you?"
"I have no idea if Steffon trusts me or no," Ned drew in his eyebrows, contemplating it all. Whatever it was, it had something to do with Jon Arryn, of that Ned was sure of. If the boy was investigating his death then that means he was aware that the man died in a questionable manner. "I have no reason to believe that he is hiding it from me purposely. I think he is unsure of how severe it is."
His eyes gazed back to the tome that lied on the surface of the table before him: The Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descliptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children, by Grand Maester Malleon. This was the very book that Jon Arryn asked for and Jon Arryn never did anything without reasons.
"When Prince Steffon went to see Lord Stannis, you could've informed him that you want to summon him back from Dragonstone." Jory mentioned, "Why didn't you?"
"I was not ready to resort to that yet." The Hand replied, "Steffon would have questions and Lord Stannis would not like to see his nephew used. I also want a better notion of what this all about and see where the both of them stand." Without a moment's haste, he begun his orders. "Bring me my doublet, if you would. The grey, with the direwolf sigil. I want this armorer to know who I am. It might make him more forthcoming."
Compliantly, Jory had ambled his way to the wardrobe. He knew that Ned was ready to speak of the boy that had been around to tell the tale of the places Jon and Stannis had gone off too. He had to believed the stable boy's words for it. Ned could hardly trust half of what anyone said here anyway.
STEFFON
The first place on the list was the armory, which didn't seem out of the norm. Due to his status, Steffon made sure that when he slipped away from the sights of his Lannister guards and into the crowd, he wore a cloak that could shield half his face. It gave him the proper shadow of mystery. The blond mane was too noticeable and Silver was meant to stay in his bedchambers until he returned. The lion was already irate for being left behind when he went to Dragonstone and now his master left him again. It would take some time to make Silver forgive him, but Steffon would try his hardest when he returned.
He tilted his head back, bunching the material to keep his hood from slipping back so he could make sure that he was on the right path. The armory was written to be located in a large house at the top of the Street of Steel. Steffon knew King's Landing pretty well considering how sheltered he had been. He studied the maps well and his very few walks with Tyrion served to come to the forefront of his memory good enough.
Whenever his eyes came across a child barefoot or hungry, his hands would twitch. He desperately wanted to reach into his currency pouch and give them coins, but it would draw attention if he gave them gold dragons. Gold dragons were the only thing he carried, what would a prince need of silver or coppers? When a few of the children stopped at the cart filled with rows of fruit, Steffon knew he couldn't keep walking. The good in him just couldn't stand to see a child hungry, even at the cost of exposing his identity.
Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out three gold dragons. "I'm buying fruit for all the children here. Let them have as many as they want and take as much as they want at the price of three gold dragons." He handed the merchant the money, quickly, who blinked madly at the sight of the expensive coins as the children eagerly began swiping all the coins worth.
With a faster pace, he bobbed and weaved through the crowd, trying to hide himself again. The merchant was still calling out to him, out of thanks or curiosity? Steffon would never know now, but just knowing those children didn't starve was just enough. Hopefully, they could share their fruits with other children or other hungry members of their family. He knew poverty was horrible here, but Steffon didn't know it was to this extreme. The sight of hungry, half-clothed children and adults without homes or even a loaf of bread was startling. How much work had to be done here? He couldn't save everyone, but he was willing to save whoever he could.
The sounds of hammers hitting steel began to ring in his ears. The air was smoky and muggy, making his eyes sting as he constantly tried to blink it all away. He knew he was close as he began to see the open forges and many men buying chainmail and wagons of swords and other weapons going up and down the narrow road. Sales upon sales were shouted, almost making him wish he could tell them shutup since a few had yelled for the "fantastic" sales of their arms right into his ear. They were doing their job, he reasoned, but he wished it wasn't at the expense of nearly making him deaf.
The hill was making him tired since it felt so neverending and from what he could tell, the man he was looking for was right at the very top of it. The house was bigger than he thought it would be and made of what looked to be timber and plaster. The upper stories giving the streets a shadow to block anyone from the hot sun if they wanted shade.
Swallowing down whatever fear that trickled up his throat, Steffon pushed open the doors and was immediately met with a serving girl. She had a chalice in one hand and a pitcher of wine in the other. Upon seeing him, she looked surprised and even a little disappointed.
Her eyes immediately looked to her right, meeting the gaze of the man that seemed to be the Master Armorer who came rushing his way through. He also shared the same disappointed look, but his anger was starting to well up in his eyes before he made a vicious frown. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" He questioned immediately, "The Hand is on his way, I'm offering my services to no one else!"
"The Hand?" Steffon repeated, unaware that Ned Stark was making his way here as well. How did he know to come here? Did he figure something out while Steffon was trying to shake off any eyes that were awaiting for his next move? Should he reveal himself before he was forced out? Steffon was unsure of the next step to take. He was left contemplated on what to do next.
"Yes, the Lord Hand as I just said." The Master stressed, "If you aren't here to buy anything then go! You don't look as if you have the coins to even touch any of my arms."
Insulted and infuriated, Steffon ripped his hood back so quick that he barely had time to blink. "I am Prince Steffon Baratheon, Crown Prince of the Iron Throne. I demand you show me proper respect or I'll bring your head before a sword and punish your insolence myself."
The serving girl and her master brought themselves down to their knees, she dropped the picture of wine and the chalice, spilling summerwine onto the floor and letting pool close to his feet. "M-My prince, I-I…" Now they stuttered, now they were pleading for their lives and forgiveness for their rude behavior. It was a shame that any other person would've been treated that way based on how they were dressed. No wonder the poor hated the rich, look at how they were treated?
He raised his hand, ordering them to rise without giving them any verbal orders. The Master Armorer nearly fell making himself stand again and the girl kept her head down, unable to meet his blue eyes. "M-My prince, may I clean this mess I have made? Surely, such a pigsty w-would dissatisfy you."
"You think I care whether this place is clean or not after how I was spoken to?" Steffon hadn't meant to frighten the girl again, his voice was loud in his annoyance. "Go on with your duty, I don't care." He dismissed her, his eyes narrowing at the Master, who was twiddling his thumbs now. "I have questions and I want answers, and I will want you to behave as if I was never here. You will not tell the Hand I came, understood?"
The forger nodded his head quickly. "Yes, my prince."
"My uncle and Lord Arryn came here before…" Looking around at the many weapons, costly as Steffon knew them to be, on the walls as well as the many armors of shades and sizes. The craftsmanship was something he could admire even in his anger. "Tell me, when they entered your shop, what did they ask you?"
"Perhaps, my prince, you may want to sit and have some wine? Surely, standing while talking—" Steffon eyebrows pulled down together, eyes thinning in a heated glare as his lips were tightly closed. "I-I suppose not…" Quickly clearing his throat and tugging his collar, the Master Armorer knew it wiser to not try to placate him without answers. "T-They asked to see the boy, so I took them back to the forge."
His anger faltered, confusion taking its place. Steffon rose a brow, "The boy? Who is this boy? I want to see him."
"Yes, my prince." With a nod, he began his walk, allowing Steffon enough time to follow him closely. They had gone out a rear door, across a narrow yard, and back to what looked to be a cavernous stone barn where all the work was done. Steffon watched him as he opened the door, the heat of hot air came flowing out like when you stood in front of an oven. Steffon winced, still caught off guard by it, and squinted as he followed the man inside the forge.
Many men were inside and all of them looked at him with question, neverminding their work to give him some of their attention. They were probably wondering what he wanted and why the Master Armorer had brought him back here. None of them knew who he was, which made Steffon wonder if the cloak really made much sense outside after all. Who would think the Crown Prince would walk down the street in broad daylight?
They kept going, going right into the bellows with the rest of the boy apprentices. They wore know shirts, possibly due to the heat of the fire to shape the armor and weapons. One boy in particular stood out. He looked to be of the same age as Steffon and was the one that the Master Armorer had stood directly in front of. "This is…" He turned to him, eyes asking if he should tell the boy who he was.
Steffon shook his head, "No need to know my name. I want to ask you a few questions and leave you to your work when done."
The boy looked at him, bearing the same eyes that reminded Steffon of his own. His hair was an inky black as well as an unkempt mess. Surely, nobody cared how they looked back here. They were making weapons and armor, not wearing them like the Lords. "This is Gendry." Gendry… A name he never heard before, but Steffon knew he must remember it. "Show him the that helmet you made."
Gendry didn't look all too eager. In fact, he looked almost embarrassed as he led them towards his bench, and allowed Steffon to see the steel helm that happened to be shaped like the head of a bull. It was made fantastically, forged from pure and raw steel. Steffon never saw armor made like that before… He was more than impressed.
"You made this?" The Crown Prince couldn't help but ask, still in awe. "Would it be too much if I would pay for you to make me a helm in the fashion of a Stag?"
Gendry looked at him, surprised almost, before a half a smile graced his features. "I could do that."
"I'll be looking forward to it." Steffon returned him a small smile of his own, "I know this may seem strange to you, me coming here and asking to see you, but I am here on important matters. I was told my Lord Stannis and Lord Arryn came to see you, could you inform of what you discussed with either one of them?"
"Lord Arryn…" The dark-haired boy began, "all he did was ask me questions. I suppose you want to know the questions." Steffon nodded in reply, "He asked how I was, was I treated well, and if I liked the work. Stuff about my mother too. Who she was and what she looked like and all."
Furrowing his brows, he wondered what all of this had meant. Why was Lord Arryn so curious about this boy's life? Who was he? "Did you answer his questions?"
"I told him that my mother died when I was little. She had yellow hair, and sometimes she used to sing to me, I remember. She worked in an alehouse."
Crossing his arms, Steffon began to ponder all of this information. "And Lord Stannis asked nothing of you? The bald, scary one I mean?" Gendry shook his head.
His blue eyes stared into Gendry's own again, wondering why his eyes look so similar to his. Blue eyes were common, but Steffon;s own was known was the Baratheon blue. Those eyes could not be duplicated if you weren't a Baratheon. So why did he have them? Unless…
He froze, right there. Steffon was aware of Mya and Edric, and to find out his father had made another bastard, one as old as he? No, Steffon didn't want to believe it. How could he not? His father whored for days, years, and all hours. Why did it feel so impossible right now? Maybe because he didn't want to believe that nearly in the same month Cassandra and himself were conceived, he made another child in his newly marriage. He cheated that quickly?
But why did Lord Arryn and Stannis seek him out? His uncle's words came floating back in his head: "You won't be surprised of all of what you'll find. It is what it all adds up to that will, my nephew."
He was right. He shouldn't have been shocked about this, but what would all of this lead up to? Was he on a quest to find each bastard that his father made? Schooling his face back to a neutral look, he looked at the Master Armorer and then back at Gendry. "The Hand will come and he will ask the same questions of you. Do not mention me, pretend as if I never came." Confused, Gendry furrowed his brows but nodded, knowing he had no choice but to accept it. "I will come to find you again, Gendry. You…" Another brother, one that he couldn't even properly meet at that. A brother the same age as he with no mother and forced to be without family, working for this rude man. Steffon would've loved to see how his mother behaved if he brought Gendry to court, forcing them all to acknowledge him. "You take care."
But why did Lord Arryn and Stannis seek him out? His uncle's words came floating back in his head: "You won't be surprised of all of what you'll find. It is what it all adds up to that will, my nephew."
He was right. He shouldn't have been shocked about this, but what would all of this lead up to? Was he on a quest to find each bastard that his father made? Schooling his face back to a neutral look, he looked at the Master Armorer and then back at Gendry. "The Hand will come and he will ask the same questions of you. Do not mention me, pretend as if I never came." Confused, Gendry furrowed his brows but nodded, knowing he had no choice but to accept it. "I will come to find you again, Gendry. You…" Another brother, one that he couldn't even properly meet at that. A brother the same age as he with no mother and forced to be without family, working for this rude man. Steffon would've loved to see how his mother behaved if he brought Gendry to court, forcing them all to acknowledge him. "You take care."
With a nod, Steffon decided to go to the next location. The next place happened to be a brothel, and one that did not belong to Littlefinger. It was run by a dark-skinned, beautiful woman from the Summer Isles. It took some convincing, heavy convincing, to tell her he was here on an important task. With some conversations, some more convincing, he was finally led to who his uncle wanted him to find. Before him, in one of the many rooms of the pleasure establishment, he was face-to-face with a young girl that had to be years younger than him and Cassandra.
It didn't surprise him, but it disgusted him. She had to at least been around Sansa's age. In her arms was a baby, which Steffon knew had to be another one of his father's bastards; a half-sibling that Steffon never even knew again. The young mother had hair that was a light red and many freckles on her face, mostly across the bridge of her button nose.
She was patting the small back of the infant, acting like a mother when she shouldn't have been one at her tender age. Just seeing it made him feel pitiful because she had deserved something much better than all of this. "I…" She finally noticed him, standing there with sad eyes as he looked the baby with a mop of black hair on its head. "I'm only going to sing her to sleep then I can tend to you, sir."
"There is no need for that." Steffon raised his hand to dismiss any idea that he came to lay with her. "I only want you to answer my question." Puzzled, the girl looked at him as if he had said something obscene. "Is the child in your arms the bastard of King Robert Baratheon?"
She was frightened, almost instantly, clutching her child close like he was some madman. "Please, please don't harm her!" It was natural reaction, still he didn't expect it. Steffon never had anyone so afraid him, especially a woman.
"I'm not going to harm you or the little one." He tried to ease her, speaking as calmly as he could with his hands out to show he did not any weapons in them. "I am Prince Steffon, Crown Prince of the Iron Throne. The child you hold there is my… my little sister." The words sounded so unbelievable leaving him, but the girl managed to calm and then began try to quickly apologize. She even went as far as trying to bend her knee before him, Steffon kept her still by pulling her lightly up by the arm. "No need for that." Relieved that everything had become peaceful, he looked down at his half-sibling. "Can I… Can I hold her?"
Hesitant, the young girl looked down at her baby and then back at Steffon. A smile soon came across her face before she carefully placed the baby in his arms, allowing him to cradle her. "Her name is Barra." It was an… interesting name. He couldn't question it, and he didn't want to after seeing Barra's chubby face. Steffon could see how much his father was in this baby's looks, especially since her features reminded him of Cassandra almost immediately. Her hair was curly, sticking close to her head, but her eyes were blue just like his.
"I love your father, I really do." The girl told him, "He's always been good to me and surely, you'll tell him of Barra, won't you?"
Her words stung him, almost immediately as they were said. This girl, near Sansa in age, had laid and loved his father and bore him a bastard girl. How much more could his family infuriate him? How much more did he have to hate them all? Barra, Gendry… They suffered because of his father's lack of responsibility. And if his mother had any say, she'd harm them if she thought they posed as any threat.
"Tell you what, how about I take you and Barra to a safer place? You're not safe here and neither is Barra. I'll buy you a home and when it is safe, you can let Barra meet her father."
"Really, my prince? You would really do that?" Her eyes were brimming with tears, unable to believe that someone would give her this kindness. That at least someone was willing to go out of their way to protect her and this little life.
"I mean it." Steffon looked down at his baby sister, trying not to feel rage for his father all over again. I will have men escort you to a proper home and you can raise Barra in peace."
A/N: If anyone is curious as to why I went for Myr to be an ally it is because it is canon that Myr backed Stannis to be King. So, if they were willing to back him then that means they are more open and welcome to foreign exchanges/alliances with Westeros. Volantis, Lys, and Tyrosh seemed unrealistic to me and Braavos would've been too easy for someone to expose his plot.
I feel bad that while Cassandra is trying to fit in with her new family, Steffon is like "our family is fucking terrible lol"
