When his father kissed Lady Desmera on the lips, Steffon burst into applause – it was a dutiful clap, not a happy clap. The sound of applause faded quickly, even with Cassana, Shireen, Robert, Prince Orys, Princess Lyarra, the Seaworths, Lord and Lady Redwyne, their two sons and Lady Olenna Tyrell clapping together.

Steffon smiled at his lady stepmother as she and Father turned from the obese High Septon and looked at the small audience present. Father looked gloomy as if he was forced to attend a funeral; Lady Desmera's expression was one of fear and uncertainty. Who could blame her? She was married to the man who had his first wife arrested and her illegitimate children sent away. Sadness and apprehension twisted in Steffon's stomach like two snakes tied in a knot. He loved his father as a loyal son would, but sweet Myrcella and Tommen? Even in the Citadel and one of the motherhouses wouldn't have saved Myrcella and Tommen from a life time of ridicule and horror. Perhaps death spared them from endless misery.

"So!" said Lord Redwyne heartily as he attempted to be jolly. "The feast then?"

There is to be no feast, thought Steffon.

"There will be no feast," Father said grimly.

"What?" said Lady Olenna, tottering closer to him. "Speak up!"

Steffon stifled a laugh as Father glanced down solemnly at her. "There'll be no feast," he repeated with the faintest trace of irritation. "My brother the king has a feast almost every three days – what is the point of having a wedding feast?"

"Is my granddaughter not worthy of a wedding feast?" demanded Lady Olenna, narrowing her eyes. "With no wedding feast, bad luck will fall upon you and Lady Desmera. Is that what you want, Lord Baratheon? Do you want your wife to be an infertile woman? Is that it?"

Father glowered at her, grinding his teeth. "I have an heir," he said, nodding at Steffon. "I do not require another."

The Queen of Thorns sniffed. "Odd thing for a lord to say. I thought every man is desperate for a brood of bonny sons? Or do men prefer daughters now? When I was carrying my oaf son in my womb, do you know what my oaf husband did? He recited a list of names. Mace, Alester, Garth, Mern, Lorence and Oswyn. He told me afterwards that he wanted six sons bearing those names." She snickered. "He was quite disappointed when I birthed Janna and Mina instead." Her beady eyes fixed on Father again. "Surely you want Storm's End to remain in Baratheon hands for all eternity?" she said slyly. "More sons will help keep the Baratheon line-"

"The Baratheon succession has naught to do with feasts," Father cut in. "There will be no wedding feast tonight. If you feel the need to celebrate my lady, I'll not prevent you from attending the king's feast tonight. I have state matters to attend to, not a wedding feast."

"What will I do, my lord?" said Desmera timidly. Stannis looked at her. "Go and join the queen's ladies," he said shortly.

"This is no wedding!" declared Lady Olenna. "This is a business transaction!"

"Is that not what marriage is my lady?"

Steffon remained silent as his new step-great grandmother and his father still argued and bickered all the way from the castle sept to the courtyard. Steffon felt greatly relieved when he escaped to the library with his siblings.

"Can you believe Father's wedding started with an argument?" Cassana asked, the moment they arrived at the library.

"It didn't come as much of a surprise," said Steffon thoughtfully. "Father never likes feasts and as he had insisted on a small, private wedding, it is in his right to refuse to have a feast. The people of the Reach are probably not used to it. It will not surprise me if all Reach ladies have grand wedding celebrations."

"Did you see our new uncles?" said Shireen with a smile. "They could not cease fidgeting with their cloak clasps. More like children of six than men of twenty one don't you agree?"

Steffon laughed. "Lord Seaworth's sons were more well-behaved than them."

"Do you think Uncle Tyrion would be welcome at our weddings?"

"Yes," said Steffon confidently. "He is our uncle by blood and will always be an expected guest in our weddings." A lump formed in his throat as he thought of his own betrothed for the first time in days. It'd be at least five years since he will be a husband. Every day, when he trained with his cousins and brother and studied hard in the schoolroom, Lady Alyssa Arryn was playing with her dolls or singing and dancing with other young girls her age. Steffon had nothing against waiting a number of years. He was in no hurry to marry.

"…and I hope Lady Desmera is happy at Storm's End," Shireen was saying. "it'd be very sad if she hates it there. Devan told me that he overheard Father deciding that Lady Desmera will stay here in King's Landing with us until the king returns from the Vale. When the king comes back with the court from the Vale, our father will take a short respite and bring us all to Storm's End."

"He will?" said Steffon, surprised.

Shireen nodded. "He will need to show the storm lords their new lady."

Of course. "I hope you don't feel alone here," said Steffon honestly, "with both Cassana and I leaving for the Vale." It was a last minute decision. It was yesterday after breakfast when he and Cassana were summoned to Father's rooms and told to pack their bags for the journey to the Eyrie. "Both of you will represent House Baratheon of Storm's End at the Vale wedding," Father said sternly. "I expect that you two will be on your best behaviour at all times. There will be no wantonness, flirting or visiting the brothels." Steffon had nodded earnestly. As Father's heir, it was his duty to represent House Baratheon in good light.

"I'll be fine," said Shireen cheerfully. "I have books to occupy myself with and a lot of people to talk to. Do you know that Devan's staying here? It's so kind of him too stay at King's Landing when he has the chance to visit the Vale. I do not think he's been to the Vale before."

"That is kind of him," Steffon agreed. He exchanged sly looks with Cassana. It'd not taken them long to theorise that Devan Seaworth fancied Shireen. He was for most of the time, always lingering near her and Steffon once caught him sneaking a book from the library and delivering it to Shireen. Devan's eyes would oft be on Shireen too, especially when they were feasting.

"Cousin Lyanna will be back too," said Cassana helpfully.

"You must write to me," said Shireen, beaming. "Both of you."

"Of course," said Cassana and Steffon in unison. "I will send two ravens a day," added Steffon, grinning at Shireen. "You must write to us too! I do not want to be lost and confused in court gossip when I come back."


"When's the last time you saw your home my lady?" Steffon asked Lady Alyssa Arryn who was riding quietly beside him.

Lady Alyssa looked thoughtful. "I don't remember the Eyrie my lord," she said, a golden curl falling over her blue eyes. "King's Landing was my home and then it was Storm's End. I remember very little about the Eyrie." She smiled shyly at him. "I suppose when we arrive there, I'll be as much of a stranger as you." Her words sounded careful and well-rehearsed. Queen Catelyn probably helped her, thought Steffon. She always wants happy matches for all of us. "Surely not," Steffon replied, smiling back at Lady Alyssa. "You are the daughter of the Vale. I'm a stranger. An enemy even, back in the days of the First Men and early Andals."

"Do you think Sansa remembers me?"

"She is your sister my lady. Of course she remembers you." Just as I will always remember Myrcella and Tommen, even if they were not my siblings in truth. Steffon unintentionally began grinding his teeth. Did Father truly love justice more than the lives of two children?

"Lord Steffon!" Cley Cerwyn rode up to Steffon and Lady Alyssa. He beamed at the Arryn lady. "My lady," he said politely. "May I speak to Lord Steffon alone for a few minutes? I promise I will return him to you soon."

Lady Alyssa blushed and nodded obediently.

"I thought you'd be leaving for Castle Cerwyn," said Steffon flatly.

Cley laughed good-naturedly. "And miss out the fun? I am afraid my father had spoilt me a little too much, my lord. He wants me safe more than proving my um, warrior prowess in the North. Besides, King's Landing is the den of excitement is it not? I envy you my lord."

"My home is Storm's End, not King's Landing."

"We are friends, aren't we?" Cley Cerwyn went on as if he didn't hear Steffon's comment. Not really, thought Steffon, wondering what the Cerwyn heir was up to. He was always unusually cheerful for a Northman, but to call another his friend – an odd and peculiar choice. Cley lowered his voice. "I want you to be a witness to my wedding, Steffon."

Out of all the scenarios Steffon imagined, he did not picture that. "What?"

"I want you to be a witness to my wedding," said Cley solemnly. "That is also a reason for why I am still at court. The lady's father readily gave permission – I'm afraid it is my father who might not approve so quickly."

"You shouldn't be disloyal to your father," said Steffon instantly.

"It's not an act of disloyalty," Cley reassured him. "I'll never be treacherous to my father. It's just that…" He hesitated. "Due to Robb Stark's actions, southroners are no longer warmly welcome in the North. My father probably thinks I am here courting Lady Arya Stark, not falling in love with a southron lady. She is a lady of a noble house whose power is great and worthy to be allied with. Her only crime is that she was born south of the Neck."

"You are not betrothed are you?"

"By the old gods no! Not to anyone but the woman I love that is."

Steffon didn't feel particularly comforted. "Who are the other witnesses?"

"Theon Greyjoy," answered Cley promptly, "and Olyvar Frey. I thought it best not to ask one of the Starks in case some of the northern lords thought that it was their idea to marry me to Roslin."

"Roslin?" repeated Steffon. "You want to wed Roslin Frey?"

"Well yes," said Cley impatiently. "How many Roslins do you know? Her father is willing to exempt my family from paying the toll every time we cross the Twins and he will be supplying Roslin with a rather generous dowry. I love my father as any son would, but he will always cower to the wish of physically bigger lords in a confrontation. If Greatjon Umber says it is a crime to wed southroners, my lord father will believe him and obey, even though it is Lord Stark who's our liege lord, not the Greatjon Umber."

"What if your father disinherits you?"

"He won't do that," said Cley confidently. "Will you be a witness?"

Father's warning echoed in Steffon's mind. Is witnessing a clandestine wedding an act of misbehaviour? By the Seven, Steffon wasn't even close friends with Cley Cerwyn – acquaintances at the most. When Cley first joined Prince Orys's cluster of companions and friends, Steffon thought the prince accepted Cley to please his northern wife. Cley was a cheerful young man – more merry than any other man of the North that Steffon had met – and was admittedly enjoyable company, but it was still strange that Cley would seek out him, Steffon, to be a witness to his very secret wedding. It is a sign of friendship, reflected Steffon. It will be good for House Baratheon of Storm's End to have a northern ally. He had been always told by his tutors to weigh the political value that a friendship could bring before giving any rash and wild promises.

"Why Theon Greyjoy?" Steffon couldn't help asking. Theon Greyjoy was quite a cocky and arrogant bastard (not a true bastard of course). He'd give coy looks to any women, highborn and lowborn alike, as if he was the king! The king of what? Bedding wenches? Unfortunately that honour belonged to King Robert.

"We made a pact," said Cley promptly. "We are both young men looking for ah, wives. My father is slow in arranging marriages – just look at my sister if you are wanting proof! – and Theon, well Theon claims that he'll be an old man with less teeth and no cock before Lord Stark gives him a bride."

Steffon frowned. "Wait, are you and Theon abducting women?"

"By the gods no! Do you think of us as wildlings, Lord Steffon? Didn't I say that Lord Frey agreed to my marriage?" He hesitated briefly. "Theon fell in love with a um, another highborn lady. He might have approached the matter a little too um, proudly. The lady's father refused to even consider him as his good-son. I heard a rumour that the lady's father believes Theon deflowered his daughter."

"Did he?"

Cley shrugged. "Theon is Theon. If he did, he would have crowed to the world that he deflowered a highborn maiden. If he loved her and she him, he might not have slept with her. If they did make love, he might be discreet about it."

Steffon's frown deepened. "How is it that the court unaware of this? Gossip is always spreading like wildfire."

"Not many people are aware of it."

"That is evident, Lord Cley."

"Come now," implored Cley. "For a friend, Steffon. If you ever need a favour, I'd be happy to lend you a hand."

"Very well," said Steffon tentatively. "I will be a witness to your wedding – if it can be assured that my father does not find out."


"You did what?" Cassana stared at Steffon, her mouth dropping wide open like a gaping fish. "When? Why?"

"It is useful to have a northern ally," answered Steffon.

Cassana snorted. "You are repeating the Grand Maester's words now?"

"He wouldn't take no for an answer. Besides, his bride's father gave the two of them permission to wed – Lord Frey even supplied his daughter with substantial dowry to prove he supports the marriage." He reached for his cup of ale. "Besides, if matters do go awry, even in the slightest, I won't be mentioned. That was…was my sole condition and Cley agreed to it. We did not have to bribe any septons for the marriage either. It happened last night. When we were at Castle Darry, five of us – Cley, Lady Roslin, Theon, Olyvar and I – snuck into the godswood during the feast. I guess Lord Darry did a good job hosting the feast."

"Lord Darry was very hospitable. What was a northern wedding like?"

"Very simple." Steffon paused to take a sip of ale. "Theon Greyjoy officiated the wedding as he was the only other Northman present. After Roslin was presented before the heart tree, Theon asked, 'who comes before the old gods this night?'. It is apparently part of the wedding ritual. Olyvar responded, 'Roslin of House Frey, comes here to be wed.' He also mentions something about her being grown and a trueborn and noble lady coming to be the blessing of the gods. He then asks who is claiming her and Cley says 'Cley, of House Cerwyn, heir to Cerwyn.' Olyvar then says he is Roslin's brother and he gives her to Cley. The wedding's over when the Lady Roslin says she takes Cley as her husband. Oh, and then they join hands and then kneel in front of the heart tree in a moment of silent prayer."

"Is that it?" said Cassana, surprised.

Steffon nodded. "The only similarity they have with our father's wedding's the cloaking part. We had to carry torches to the godswood too."

"The godswood at Castle Darry is so small! Are you sure you didn't get caught? I don't think Father will be pleased if he finds out…"

"He won't." Steffon suppressed his uncertainty with a tight smile. "Besides, if it is brought to light, I won't be mentioned, remember?"

Cassana didn't look convinced. "I believe more people are afraid of our father than Cley Cerwyn."

"Father doesn't employ spies," said Steffon defensively. "He doesn't believe it's justifiable to spy on people."

"No, but Allard and Matthos Seaworth are here."

Steffon glanced across the common room of the inn at the Seaworth brothers. They were sitting on benches closest to the doors and seemed to be having quite a deep conversation. The slices of crusty bread and meat (now probably cold) on their plates remained untouched. "They are here to keep an eye on Robert Arryn, not to watch us," Steffon decided, draining the rest of his ale in one gulp. "Father didn't want to risk Lady Arryn stealing her son back. He said he swore an oath to the late Lord Arryn to keep his son away from Lady Arryn." He took the chance to examine his surroundings as Cassana bit into her slice of bread.

During his few travels, Steffon had rarely rested at an inn before. It wasn't that Father disapproved of inns as he disapproved of brothels – it was just convenient to him to journey to the destined location rather than stay a night at an inn. Here in the inn at the crossroads, everyone Steffon looked at were courtiers. He was a little disappointed. When he heard that the king decided to rest for a while at the inn, he was excited at the prospect of eating in the company of merchants, dyers, farmers and townsfolk. It sounded queer, but Steffon was tired of listening to the same old gossip with the other courtiers.

Despite the lack of smallfolk and townsfolk present, the inn itself from the vast view outside to its cosy interior was still an interesting sight. Standing outside on the crossroads, there were so many options where to go. If west, Steffon could go and visit his late mother's family; if north, it would be to the homes of the solemn northern lords; but it was the eastern road that he, his royal cousins and the rest of the court would take early tomorrow morning.

The inn itself was large and contained numerous rooms, some small and with low, dusty garrets and others spacious and comfortable. Being the king's nephew, Steffon was given a large room. The common room – where Steffon and Cassana and the majority of the courtiers were resting, eating and talking now – was long and drafty, with a row of huge wooden kegs at one end and a massive fireplace at the other. In between were rows upon rows of benches. While the nobles sat and chatted, the innkeeper Masha busily drew beer from the kegs, watching her four to six serving girls and boys serve plates of food to the nobles.

"…Steffon?"

"What?" said Steffon vaguely.

"The Seaworths are not just here for that," said Cassana patiently. "Father also wants them to keep an eye on us. After what Mother did…" Her lips tightened. "It shouldn't be surprising that he is ah, overprotective of us. He doesn't want to risk our House falling into further disgrace."

Steffon didn't want to say anything about their mother's scandal. "I think I had enough food," he said, standing up. "I might go and rest for a while. I do not want to fall asleep climbing to the Eyrie. Early start tomorrow too. Will you stay here a little longer or do you want me to escort you to your chamber?"

"Too early to sleep," replied Cassana.

"Don't stay up too late," said Steffon automatically. Cassana laughed. "I will not, Brother," she said with a smile. "You don't have to worry about me."

I cannot help it. "I will see you tomorrow morning then." Leaving Cassana with the other courtiers, Steffon retired to his room. Am I being overprotective too? He wondered as settled on a plain chair and stared out the window. A cluster of grey, angry clouds were gathering together. Why didn't Cassana want to retire? Is there a courtier she fancies? What if he is someone Father won't approve of? "Stop acting like an overprotective fool," Steffon reprimanded himself. "Cassana is your sister – just because of Mother's actions doesn't mean you should stop trusting her and everyone else in your family." He wondered if Hoster Tully, heir of Riverrun also had those protective brotherly thoughts in his mind. He had heard from Cassana (who in turn learnt from Princess Lyarra and some of the other ladies) that upon occasion, the fourteen year old Hoster would guard Melia and Rosaline zealously against unwanted suitors.

Mother must be forgotten; everyone must move on. Though Mother's disgrace would loom over Steffon indefinitely, that was no excuse for being guarded and a protective idiot. It was time to move forward and what better way to do that than climbing up a steep, enormous mountain to attend a wedding?


My break is over and I'm back :D Holidays is approaching in a few days and I definitely plan to write more of this story, start planning future stories and maybe even oneshots. I know this isn't the most interest chapter, but hopefully the next chapter will be more interesting :)