A smaller chapter from me today, but an important one nonetheless as it's the beginning of the TV series and the trip to Winterfell. Before anybody says anything, I know it's a fairly average 'canon' chapter, but trust me, it will all change soon enough.

As always, I own nothing but Durran Baratheon and any other potential character you may not recognise. All the others belong to either George RR Martin or HBO.

Durran paced his breathing, trying to be as quiet as possible. Ahead of him stood a majestic stag, not quite an adult, grazing on the bank of the river. Keeping low and creeping slowly towards the animal, he held his spear ready to pounce. Breathing in a lungful of air, he threw the spear with all his might.

An hour later, he grinned as he had managed to lift the stag onto his shoulders and carry it back to the Royal camp. He was gaining quite an audience as he reached his Father's tent. Throwing the stag to the ground, he waited.

Robert came outside a moment later, looking red faced and frustrated. "Why am I being interrupted?" He asked angrily, before he saw Durran. "Durran, what…"

"A gift for you Father." Durran said proudly.

Robert looked at the stag and inspected the puncture mark on the animal's neck with his gloved hand. Standing, he looked down at Durran, before he began laughing uncontrollably.

"That's my boy!" He roared. "A fine kill!"

"I thought we could offer the meat to Lord Darry, as a thank you for letting us stay on his lands." Durran suggested.

"Piss on that, we feast tonight!" Robert grinned. "Send the horns to the blacksmith, it's time you had your own true Baratheon helmet."

Durran looked up in awe. "Really?"

"Aye son." Robert grinned. "Come, we'll fetch the blacksmith together."

Durran grinned back, and let Robert put his arm around him as they walked to the smithy tent. Durran was in euphoria, but as everything wore off, he noticed his arm was stinging with pain. Pulling up his sleeve, he winced at the large purple mark adorning his right forearm.

"Fuck, that looks bad." Robert noted.

"The spear didn't kill it the first time, had to get in close and finish him off." Durran said, stroking the bruise. "Lashed out."

"We'll get that looked too first then." Robert nodded. "Come on."

As the royal party left the woods, it gave Durran his first true look at Winterfell. His arm was broken apparently, and he was forced to ride with his Mother and younger siblings in the wheelhouse for the remainder of the trip. He couldn't even wear armour, having to wear fine clothes, black trousers and a golden shirt to portray his house colours. That didn't stop him from leaning out of the window and being in awe of the huge Northern fortress.

"Sit down." His Mother hissed, and Durran obliged sheepishly. "Don't lower yourself to these savages. You're a Prince, act like one."

"Yes Mother." He said, winking at Tommen when Cersei wasn't looking.

A call went up to finalise formation, and Durran kept his eyes firmly on the scenery he could see out the window of the wheelhouse. They passed a town, where people were lining the streets watching the Royal procession. Finally, they passed through some final gates and the wheelhouse soon came to a halt. The door was being opened by servants, and as Durran got ready to leave the wheelhouse he heard his Father reunite with his old friend.

As Robert hugged Catelyn Stark, Durran took his place beside Myrcella and watched on. Cersei left the wheelhouse and made his way to the Starks as Durran heard the smaller Stark girl ask the elder sister. "Where's the Imp?"

Anger rose up in him, but he swallowed it down quickly. Looking over at the two girls he noticed one was small, boyish and had the look of her Father with the brown hair, and the other held a graceful beauty about her, red hair and blue eyes to favour her Mother's house, House Tully.

"Who have we here? You must be Robb." Robert was saying to the Starks, making his way down the line. He stopped in front of each, making a remark. "My, you're a pretty one." He said to the eldest girl, following with. "Your name is?" to the younger.

"Arya." She replied bluntly.

Robert nodded, and moved to the boy next to her. "Show us your muscles." The boy obliged, and Robert chuckled. "You'll be a soldier!"

"That's Jaime Lannister. The queen's twin brother." Arya whispered loudly to whoever could hear her, Durran wanted to complain about rudeness, but didn't want to make a scene. It seemed her sister had the same thoughts.

"Would you please shut up."

Thankfully Cersei approached Ned at that moment to distract the girls. Ned Stark kissed her hand. "My Queen." He bowed.

"My Queen." Catelyn Stark repeated, curtseying.

"Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects." Robert said loudly to Ned.

"We've been riding for a month, my love." Cersei complained. "Surely the dead can wait."

"Ned." Was all Robert said, and Durran clenched his teeth in annoyance at how rude he was being to his Mother. Ned Stark looked at her apologetically before following Robert to the Stark crypts. An awkward silence followed their departure, until Arya again asked.

"Where's the Imp?"

Cersei, clearly feeling humiliated, strode over to Jaime Lannister and spat. "Where is our brother? Go find the little beast."

Durran shook his head as Jaime left, and Catelyn Stark began directing servants to show the Royal Party to their rooms. Durran however, made his way over to the Stark children.

"Robb Stark, right?" Durran asked, offering his left hand out.

"Aye, Prince Durran?" He asked back, taking the offered hand.

"Right in one. A pleasure to meet you. I hope we can begin a friendship as strong as that of our Fathers." Durran said formally.

"As do I, My Prince." Robb bowed his head.

"Why aren't the others coming to say hello?" Arya asked. Durran looked back at the dispersing Royals, and noticed Joffrey had escaped as soon as possible.

"Joffrey isn't as sociable as I am, and Tommen and Myrcella will follow my Mother, the Queen, around for now." Durran explained. "We shall of course attend the feast though."

"It will be a pleasure to host the Royal House Baratheon." Cat Stark smiled. "Robb, why don't you show Prince Durran to his chambers?"

"The long way around, please." Durran grinned. "Winterfell is marvellous."

"Over here we have the training yard." Robb was saying, showing the Baratheon over to the small area set out for training. "Swords in the square here, archery through there." He pointed.

"A shame I won't be gracing it." Durran said sadly.

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking…" Robb asked.

Durran grinned. "Not at all. I was out hunting, and a stag didn't like the fact I'd stuck it with a spear."

Robb chuckled. "No, they wouldn't."

Durran grinned, and took one of the training swords in his weaker hand. "One day, we shall spar Robb Stark."

"I hear you're very good. Won a squire's melee at the age of twelve." Robb noted.

"Thirteen." Durran corrected. "Although it turned into a brawl rather than a fight in the end."

Robb laughed. "I wouldn't want to fight you hand to hand."

"Not many do." Durran grinned. "Tell me, what do you do for fun up in the North? I must admit I don't know much about it."

"Ride mainly, the hills around Winterfell are incredible to ride upon." Robb shrugged. "Or train, my brother and I train a lot…"

"You train with your brother? Isn't he a bit young?" Durran asked confused.

Robb looked at his feet nervously. "Not Bran… my brother Jon."

"Ah, the bastard." Durran acknowledged.

"Don't call him that." Robb said through gritted teeth. Durran held his hands up apologetically.

"My apologies." He said. "I likely have bastard brothers and sisters myself somewhere."

Robb relaxed a touch. "You don't know them?"

Durran shook his head. "My Father isn't exactly shy about parading women around the Red Keep. Likelihood is, a number of them have produced bastards. Not that it matters to me, unless he does an Unworthy."

Robb chuckled lightly. "I feel for you then. I've never known life without Jon and I wouldn't have it another way. He may be illegitimate but he is my brother, now and always."

"I'd drink to that if I had one." Durran smiled. "Now, what other secrets are there in Winterfell?"

"Many, most that I can't share without you being a Stark." Robb grinned.

"Pity." Durran laughed back.

"Well, through there is the Godswood." Robb said, pointing to an entrance towards a forest like area. "But it's not really a place for…"

"Believers of the Seven, I understand. What about the crypts? I've heard rumours…"

"The crypts are a Stark place." Robb said quickly, before remembering his manners. "Forgive me, I did not mean to offend, but my Father only took the King down there because he is the King, we don't like others going down there too much." Durran nodded his acceptance, even if he was frustrated. Rob noticed this, and grinned. "I can show you the broken tower though."

"Broken tower?" Durran asked.

"Come on." Robb grinned, leading him towards the tower. "Years and years ago, lightning struck the tower and it caught aflame, leading to the ruin that stands today. We've never been allowed inside on our own, and no Stark before us have bothered to rebuild it."

"Wow." Durran said. "You would?"

"If I can find the money." Robb nodded. "I have plans, but I'm still learning to be Lord of Winterfell, I don't know everything yet and there must be some reason why my Father never bothered."

"Lord Stark was a second born, right?" Durran asked.

"Aye."

"Then that's probably why." Durran offered. "I'm second born, and all I learn is military strategy and common sense really. I'm there to help Joffrey when he comes into his inheritance." He spat bitterly.

"You don't sound so happy about that." Robb frowned.

"You don't know Joff." Durran laughed. "But he'll be King, and I'll be the Prince of Dragonstone with any luck."

"Dragonstone? Hasn't it been abandoned since the war?" Robb asked.

"Aye, but I'll receive it and make it strong again." Durran said determined. He noticed his mother's handmaiden rushing over towards them and cursed silently. "It seems I'm being summoned by my Mother. I'll see you tonight Robb."

"My Prince." Robb bowed his head.

"None of that." Durran grinned, liking the Stark. "Durran."

He arrived at his chambers and sighed. Laid out on the bed were Lannister coloured clothes. For as long as he could remember his Mother had tried to get him to embrace her family rather than his Father's, but as soon as he could think and dress himself, he had refused as much as he could. Shaking his head, he put the clothes back in his trunk and pulled out fine black clothing lined with gold. After putting them on, he looked in the mirror, his black hair almost reaching his shoulders.

He heard the door open, and in walked Cersei, her hair up in an overly southern fashion and a gown of deep scarlet.

"You look beautiful Mother." Durran smiled.

"Thank you. Why aren't you wearing the clothes I left for you?" Cersei asked.

Durran shrugged. "Black is more my colour, I want to impress the Starks."

"Impress them? Why?" She asked, sitting on the bed and gesturing him to join her. Durran moved over to the bed, and lay his head on her lap.

"Father likes them, I thought one Baratheon should show them something other than contempt." Durran told her. Cersei chuckled lightly.

"Are we that obvious?" Cersei asked.

"Just to me." Durran grinned. "I don't want to like them, but Robb is a good man, we got on well earlier."

"The Starks are simple savages. They life in this barren wasteland and only pop their heads out when summoned." Cersei explained. "You need to stay alert around them."

"They won't hurt us." Durran frowned. "Lord Stark is Father's best friend, we're allies."

"We have no allies Durran." Cersei sighed, stroking his hair calmly. "We have ourselves, our family. Everybody else are only friendly when it suits them. Stark is the same, I remember after the war. Lord Eddard and the King had an almighty row, it seemed like nothing would bring them back together."

"What did?" Durran asked, and regretted it when his mother's features darkened. "Oh. Her."

Cersei looked quizzically down at him. "You know?"

"Uncle Stannis has taught me a lot about history and wars." Durran explained. "I know why Father is King."

"That's why he went down to the crypts." Cersei scoffed. "Seventeen years and I still come second to a dead girl."

"Yes, well Father is a fool." Durran told her, causing his Mother to laugh.

"He is the King." Cersei said softly.

"Kings are fools." Durran shrugged. "The Mad King was a fool, Father is a fool, Joffrey will be a fool…"

"Not if we help him." Cersei interrupted. "You are intelligent, intelligence inherited from me. Use it to help him, guide him. You are the only person he doesn't frighten. He will need you."

"I'll help him Mother, I will." Durran smiled. Cersei smiled back and stroked his forehead briefly, before looking out the window.

"Sundown, we should go." Cersei sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Durran nodded and got up, straightening his clothes and hair. He offered his arm to Cersei and she smiled sweetly, taking it and leading Durran down to the Great Hall.

Durran soon found himself stood at the doorway to the Winterfell Great Hall next to Arya Stark, waiting to escort her in. He could see she was staring up at him, eager to annoy him with questions.

"What happened to your arm?" She asked him finally.

"Do you always ask so many questions?" Durran asked back.

"Yes. What happened?" Arya asked again.

"Arya." Sansa hissed from in front of them.

"It's ok." Durran smiled at the redhead. "I killed a stag at Darry, but not soon enough to leave unscathed."

"You killed a stag? Yourself?" Arya asked, in awe.

"I did."

"But you got injured. I wouldn't have." Joffrey boasted. Sansa smiled sickeningly up at him.

"You'd need to find your way out of Mother's skirts before you could face a deer." Durran whispered into Joffrey's ears menacingly. He would have added something about murdering cats, but didn't want to upset Tommen behind him. The doors opened at the perfect time, as the future of Houses Baratheon and Stark made their way into the Great Hall to begin the feast.

Durran couldn't bring himself to enjoy it fully though. In the corner of his eye his Father was all over a plump serving girl, and if he looked away all he could see was Joffrey putting on an act for Sansa. Grimacing, he downed his water and poured some more, before tucking into a leg of lamb. Sighing, he looked at the girl next to him, and saw that Arya was about to fling food at her older sister. Grinning, he stole the spoon and gulped the lot down, much to Arya's annoyance.

"Oi! That's mine!" She exclaimed.

"I know." Durran grinned. "So stop trying to share with Sansa." Arya grumbled and slouched over her plate, and Durran tried to cheer the girl up. "What do you like to do?" He asked.

"Nothing ladylike." She mumbled.

"So that's why you and Sansa don't get along, you are opposites." Durran surmised. Arya nodded, and Durran leaned in closer. "I'm the same with Joffrey." He whispered.

"Really?" Arya asked, her features brightening up.

"Oh yes." Durran nodded. "I'm the warrior, I'd rather train all day every day so I can be big and strong when I'm older. Joffrey would rather sit indoors and play with his crossbow rather than truly know how to use it. He's still good with a sword, but not as good as he could be and not as good as me."

Arya giggled, and the pair started chatting about all the pranks they've pulled on their siblings. After laughing for what seemed like an age at the sheep shift story, he poured himself some more water.

"Why don't you drink wine?" Arya asked. "Your Father and Mother do; your brother has had a bit too. But you don't."

"Good observation." Durran chuckled, tilting his glass to applaud her. "You've seen my Father, that's my reason."

"You don't want to get drunk?"

"I don't want to get into a state where I can't think for myself." Durran explained. "Plus, I don't like the taste."

Arya nodded acceptingly, and returned to her food. Durran however had filled himself up, and rose to get some fresh air.

He passed his Uncle Tyrion on the way out, and had a quick walk around the courtyard when a pair of red eyes in a corner startled him slightly. Curious, he slowly walked towards them, grabbing a torch as he passed one. Lighting the red eyes, he was amused to see a little wolf pup, silently staring up at the Prince. Durran went to pet it, but recoiled as it snarled.

"Ghost!" A voice came from behind Durran. The Baratheon turned and saw a young man slightly older than himself with dark curly hair. Jon Snow.

"It's alright. I'm a stranger and I came to him. It's my fault." Durran admitted. "I was curious."

"My Prince… I'm… I…" Jon stammered.

"It's ok, Jon Snow." Durran chuckled. "Tell me about him. How does a wolf become a pet?"

"Direwolf." Jon corrected.

"Impossible." Durran said, eyes wide. "Direwolves don't exist."

"They're common North of the Wall, but these are the first seen this far South in years." Jon explained. "My Prince." He added.

"None of that now." Durran waved off. "He's magnificent. What was his name again?"

"Ghost. He's mine." Jon smiled. "All the Stark children and myself have one."

Durran nodded, giving a last smile towards Ghost before following Jon to the training yard. "You train a lot? Robb mentioned you train with him."

"Aye I do." Jon nodded. "I'm not as good as him though."

"You need to train harder then." Durran grinned. "Damn this fucking arm, or I'd ask you to spar with me now."

"I couldn't… You're a Prince." Jon said, eyes shifting to his feet.

"And? If it came to battle do you think people will scream "No don't go for that one, he's a Prince!" Durran chuckled. "Sparring is a simulation of war, if I was fully able, I'd command you to go at full strength if I had too."

Jon smiled weakly. "You best get back to the feast, My Prince."

Durran nodded, and walked away, giving a final glance to the Stark bastard before he decided to head up to bed, not wanting to go and see the state his Father was getting into.

Durran was pulling the final few straps into place on his horse as the party was getting ready to leave for the hunt his Father had called. Getting ready, he looked around to see Robb talking to his Uncle, his Father moving over towards Ned Stark and Joffrey looking glum on his own horse. Mounting up, he moved over towards his brother.

"Whoever kills first wins?" Durran offered.

"What will I win then?" Joffrey asked, sitting up straight and giving Sansa a smirk up on the balcony. Durran noticed this and laughed at his brother's antics.

"Nothing, because I'll beat you." He chuckled, noticing his Father getting ready.

"I don't think so, brother." Joffrey sneered.

"Come on boys, let's go kill some boar!" Robert shouted from the front, and Durran spurred his horse on to follow the group. He gave a short nod to Brandon Stark, who was standing in an archway watching them all head off, before focusing on the hunt ahead, determined to match his efforts on the way up to Winterfell.

A chapter that happily fell together a lot easier than the last one. Mainly just conversations with other characters, but a good chapter of icebreakers I thought to develop some relationships in the future.

I enjoyed writing the observations/conversation with Arya too. I will repeat that they will never be a pairing, but I feel they'd still be friends. To him that's all she can be as he is so enamoured with his 'Valyrian Princess'.

Let me know what you think please! And I'll see you all next time for 'The Kingsroad'.

Reviews:

JT1997: Thanks for alerting me to the typo, it's fixed! Thank you for saying you like my stories, I do it for people such as yourself.

jgs237: Some good ideas there, all I will say is to keep your eyes out for what happens!

JaceMaddox: He has two sons and a daughter with a different wife, an OC Joy Penrose. Stefan Baratheon, born 288 AC, Shireen Baratheon (without Greyscale) born 289 AC, and Davos Baratheon, born 292 AC. I'll go into more details in a few chapters on Stannis' family.

InsightfullyDepressed: Ned and Durran will talk properly next chapter. Trust me, initially it may seem like I'm following canon but I've planned out to Chapter 21, with big changes beginning to appear in Chapter 6.

Guest (Jon): Jon and everybody else needs to find out about his heritage first! And even so, no Baratheon will relinquish the crown to a Targaryen as they won it by rights, which will mean even more war.