Reviews make me write faster – I use the quatermaester interactive game of thrones map when writing

The Estermont family tree is a mess, contradictions in canon material give three possible options. I have gone with option 2 – which uses information from A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Dance with Dragons as it has more canon mentions supporting its structure than options 1 or 3. This gives Renly a living grandfather (Eldon) and two living uncles (Aemon and Lomas) who have each given him one cousin (Alyn and Andrew)

"Announcing Renly, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands!"

The doors swung wide and the crowds parted as the herald announced my presence. I strode confidently down the now open central path towards the Storm Throne, throwing charming smiles at my supporters and clapping Ser Cortnay on the shoulder before taking my seat on the imposing stone throne. The antlers on its crest crowing my head in an impressive imitation of my house sigil.

I was still fully armoured in the set Tobho Mott had crafted for me. The inlayed brass of the celtic designs stood out against my coal black armour, reflecting brilliantly in the light of the hall. They drew my lords' eyes to the stunningly realistic stag's head and antlers in brass inlay on my breast plate. A breast plate marred by the clearly visible scrapes from Jon's sword, and the dust and mud of the training yard that I very deliberately hadn't cleaned off.

With my sweat still matting my hair and my warhammer across my lap, I had given myself the look of Robert Baratheon fresh from battle on the Trident. especially with Jon Snow and Edric Storm at my shoulders as my sworn swords.

It was an image I'd arranged every detail of precisely, to cast me as Robert as much as possible. Smashing still further Renly's reputation as a prissy courtier and closing the gap in my lord's minds between mine and Stannis' martial abilities before they thought to be wary of any attempt by me to do so.

"Good of you to join us my lord." The gruff comment carried clearly across the hall despite coming from the back. I zeroed in on the speaker immediately. Eldon Estermont, Lord of Greenstone and my maternal grandfather. A man of more than seventy who was still capable of knocking twenty-year-old knights on their asses and was widely known to be out of fucks to give.

"A lord paramount is never late grandfather; everyone else is simply early." I smiled charmingly.

There were some soft chuckles as I lounged back as casually as I could in full plate armour. "Forgive me for my late arrival my lords, but I had already sat through the joy of Maester Jurne's rendition of my family's linage once. Having now shared the experience with me, I think you can understand why I chose the training yard rather than subject myself to it twice!"

This time there were outright roars of laughter.

These lords had all adored Robert fiercely. They already liked Renly, maybe even loved him, giving me a massive advantage over Stannis in the competition for their loyalty. But shaving off the prissy corners and adopting Robert's irreverent attitude could only ingratiate them to me even more. Furthering the Robert-come-again image I was trying to portray to turn their unconscious bias in my favour.

It was far too much psychological work to keep up long term given that my natural personality was closer to Renly's than Robert's. But for this council? I threw myself into the role with enthusiasm. I raised my hands and quietened them down. "Trust me my lords, I would not have subjected you to that if it were not necessary. But a grave injustice has been done to my beloved brother Robert…"

"Beyond him dying?" My grandfather interrupted me caustically.

"Beyond that, yes." I responded affably, refusing to be derailed. I signalled to Maester Jurne to begin reading again, grinning at the groans that erupted. "Don't fret my lords, there're only a handful left to go!"

Maester Jurne shot me a dark look, but I just sent a dazzling smile at him. He huffed and continued with the linage. "Lord Ormund Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, wed Rhaelle Targaryen; silver of hair and violet of eye. Their union produced two sons. Steffon Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, Harbert Baratheon; black of hair and purple of eye."

"Lord Steffon Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, wed Cassana Estermont; brown of hair and green of eye. Their union produced three sons. Robert Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, Stannis Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, and Renly Baratheon; black of hair and blue-green of eye."

My lords were getting restless, but I maintained my gaze on Maester Jurne. The very picture of respectful attention.

"Following the success of Robert's Rebellion in deposing King Aerys II Targaryen, House Baratheon became the ruling House of three seats. House Baratheon of Storm's End continues through Lord Renly Baratheon; black of hair and blue-green of eye, unwed. House Baratheon of Dragonstone's first lord is Lord Stannis Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, wed Selyse Florent; brown of hair and grey of eye. Their union produced one daughter, Shireen Baratheon; black of hair and blue of eye, disfigured by greyscale. The new royal house is House Baratheon of King's Landing. Its head is King Robert Baratheon – First of his line; black of hair and blue of eye, wed Cersei Lannister; gold of hair and green of eye. Their union produced three children. Joffrey Baratheon; gold of hair and green of eye, Myrcella Baratheon; gold of hair and green of eye, Tommen Baratheon; gold of hair and green of eye."

The disgruntled muttering had dropped away as soon as Joffrey's colouring was mentioned. By the time Maester Jurne finished listing Tommen's it was utterly silent.

These lords had just spent nearly half an hour being regaled by a constant litany of black haired and blue-eyed Baratheon's. The only variety in colouring being their wives and the very occasional child, like myself and my dead paternal uncle, who combined the Baratheon blue with their mother's eye colour in some form. Robert's children stood out like a T Rex in a field of sheep.

"My lords." I held the entire room spellbound as I straightened up formally. "I see you noticed it as well. The seed of the Baratheon line is strong; the most that the mother's blood has ever been able to change in my house's colouring is the eyes. Even then they only change part way, like my own. Even the famed magical blood of House Targaryen could produce only dark purple eyes, and that in only one of two children. The silver hair and violet eyes of the blood of Old Valyria was erased completely in the other. Now Cersei Lannister asks us to believe that her blood has the strength to change the eyes of not one, but all three of her children, and to pure green at that. She asks us to believe that the coal black hair of my house yielded to her own gold. Something that you have just heard with your own ears has not happened in the entire three-hundred-year history of House Baratheon. She asks us to believe that that has happened not once, but thrice. She asks us to believe that all three of her children are Robert's, when they have not a single Baratheon trait among them. Not one. I ask you, my Lords of the Stormlands; loyal bannermen of House Baratheon. Do we believe her?"

The hall was still as silent as the grave. The sheer outrageousness of my accusation quieting even the fiery tempers of the Stormlands lords. More than one of them was staring open mouthed at the dais where Jon and I stood, almost perfect clones of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. Some shifted their gazes to Edric Storm, again a near clone of Robert and myself. The only non-Baratheon feature his clearly Florent ears.

"It's not possible." "She wouldn't have." "She couldn't have."

Before the angry and disbelieving mutterings could gain traction, I raised voice and called over them.

"My lords! You all know I arrived here with Ned Stark's daughter. I would ask that you hear her words."

I gestured and Arya stepped forward from the side of the dais, remembering exactly what I had told her to do. Nymeria flanked her, and the scowling direwolf, House Stark's sigil made flesh, neatly quashed any remaining questions about her legitimacy. Arya looked very uncomfortable in the plainest dress that I could find in the castle that would fit her. Unfortunately, the last highborn woman to live in Storm's End when they were her age had been my paternal grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen. As such the black and gold dress was made of sheer silk and was heavily embroidered, as befitted a princess. Arya had nearly thrown a fit when I'd handed it to her, until I'd shown her the other options.

With Arya resembling her aunt so heavily and dressed as a Lady of Storm's End I heard more than one lord whisper 'Lyanna' as they had visions of what might have been. All while hammering home a fourth example of family traits manifesting generation after generation, and, for those that were aware of Catelyn Stark's other children's colouring, a reminder that even her curiously dominant Tully blood hadn't kept the Stark look from all her children.

I withdrew the scroll Ned had written for me in the Tower of the Hand and passed it to Ser Cortnay, gesturing Maester Jurne over join him.

"Lord Stark's seal. Unbroken." Both of them confirmed, seeing the direwolf in white wax.

I passed it to Arya and indicated that she should open it. "My father's seal. Unbroken." She broke it and unrolled the scroll.

"M..My father's hand." Her voice shook a little and her grip tightened as the sight of her father's writing reminded her that he was currently languishing in the black cells. I had intended for her to stop there, but when Jon had balked at actually reading the scroll, saying my lords would never listen to a bastard, Arya had declared she would do it.

I'd tried to talk her out of it. But the little she-wolf had dug her heels in and refused to verify her father's hand or wear a dress if I let anyone else read it. I had backed down, not being willing to lower her regard for me over something that she'd be unable to blame me for if she reacted negatively to the contents. It always paid to let a child win a few battles you could afford to lose, it showed you respected them and made them respect you more in turn.

"I Edd…I Edd…" She choked up and Jon moved to help her.

I coldly grabbed his wrist and fixed him in place. This was perfect. It would take a faceless man level of skill to replicate the genuine emotion Arya was pouring out to her rapt audience.

"I, Eddard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Hand of the King, and Warden of the North, do declare before both the Old Gods and the Seven that the children believed to be the trueborn of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister are, in truth..." Arya stopped reading and whirled to look at me in shock.

I raised an eyebrow, but the little she-wolf simply shook her head. Seemingly stunned to silence by the next words on the scroll.

More than one lord looked as if they wished to be anywhere else as they realised what this would mean. Most of them were showing various forms of anger though, from bulging red faces to pinched pale ones, there was a sense of fury and betrayal hanging heavy in the air.

"Please continue to share your father's words with us Arya." I spoke gently into the silence.

She gulped, suddenly seemingly aware of all the eyes on her. She huddled closer to Nymeria, but nonetheless faced them all down like the she-wolf of Winterfell she was and resumed reading, her voice strong and clear.

"…Are, in truth, bastards born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her twin brother, Ser Jamie Lannister of the Kingsguard. I also declare that my investigation has proven that this was known by Jon, of the House Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Lord Paramount of the Vale, Hand of the King, and Warden of the East, and that this knowledge resulted in his death on the orders of Queen Cersei before he could bring it to King Robert. I further declare that the same conclusions were reached independently by Renly, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and Master of Laws, following his own investigation."

She looked down at the clearly visible duo of seals affixed to the bottom of the scroll. "My father's signature and seal."

"And mine. Thank you, Arya." I confirmed, holding my hand out for the scroll.

No sooner had she handed me the scroll and fled to Jon's side then the round hall erupted in bellows, roars, obscenities, threats, and denials.

There was no chance of me or anyone else making themselves heard over the near riot. So I gestured for Jon to unhook the metal training shield from his back and hold it out.

I brought my warhammer crashing down on it.

The resounding crash and unholy screech of metal on metal caused most of my bannermen to fall quiet. I bellowed over those few still speaking. "If you wish to make noises like farmyard animals, I suggest you go to Dorne! Where such behaviour will be tolerated! If not, you will comport yourselves with dignity that befits Lords of the Stormlands as we decide how to avenge my brother!"

Many lords were looking at me as if they'd never seen me before. Unlike Robert, Renly had never let his Baratheon fury loose. Believing that charm and the carrot got better results.

I agreed with him for the most part. But unlike Renly, I intended to remind my bannermen that while I didn't often use the stick, it did in fact exist.

And that I might decide to use it.

At any time.

Without warning.

I caught the distinct look of approval on my grandfather's face as he talked to my uncle and cousin.

"If you truly wanted to avenge your brother, why didn't you tell him this when he was alive?" The question was hurled out from virtually right in front of me which meant I could see the questioner clearly.

Lord Hugh Grandison of Grandview was old, but thankfully not in the same sort of shape as Eldon Estermont. Unfortunately, his voice was still strong and clear and had carried all around the hall.

The mood didn't turn against me, but it was a near thing. Ser Duncan Trant of Gallowsgrey, standing next to Lord Hugh, seemed especially pleased. Doubtless he had already received a raven informing him of his son's death.

I picked my words very carefully. "Queen Cersei's treason is so vile, so humiliating, that both myself and Lord Stark feared that my brother would not believe it. What greater betrayal can there be for a father than to discover that your wife has cuckolded you with her own brother? That not one of the children that you have showered with love and invested the future of your house in is of your blood? The only one Robert would have believed was his foster father. But Jon Arryn was poisoned, and none of us understood at the time when he tried to use his last words to warn Robert. 'The seed is strong' that's what he used his last breaths to say. Even as he was dying, Lord Arryn's only thoughts were for his son in all but blood and how he could protect him."

My emotional manipulation was working, the crowd was visibly swinging back towards me. With my own back secure, it was time to control the narrative and direct the dagger of responsibility for the entire investigation fiasco into the back of the person I needed to get rid of.

"When we realised the truth and confided in each other, Lord Stark and I both agreed that the only way Robert could be forced to face the humiliating truth was to be confronted by all three of his brothers. His two by blood, and his one by choice. Lord Stark and I sent raven after raven to Dragonstone. We received only silence in return. Lord Stark at last resolved to send his guard captain to Dragonstone aboard a ship of the Royal Fleet, but it was too late. The queen had discovered our investigation. She knew that we knew of her treason. We were prepared for that, or so we thought. We had given each other scrolls so that our words could warn Robert from beyond the grave if one of us fell to the queen's assassins. We never expected that Cersei would not strike at us, but at her own husband."

There was a collective intake of breath as I broached for the first time the subject of Robert's death.

"You can't expect us to believe that!" Ser Owen Horpe called out from next to Hugh Grandison and Duncan Trant. I ruthlessly suppressed a very inappropriate smile as I spotted frowns being directed at them from around the round hall. Each as a lord looked around himself and noticed that all the opposition to me seemed to be coming from one place.

Just as intended.

"Ser Balon Swann." I called out, causing the knight that would, in another life, have been a member of Joffrey's Kingsguard, to step forward. "You were with Robert when he was struck down. Would you tell us what happened?"

Ser Balon did so, recounting Robert's drinking, my argument with him, the boar gutting him, and his reconciliation with me. All of which he had likely shared a hundred times since he had first arrived, as had the many other members of my court that had been present in the hunting camp when Robert was carried in. But it was important to have both things fresh in my audience's mind.

I'd made sure to turn my own attention inwards as Balon recounted the events. Deliberately wallowing in the memories of the most humiliating and painful episodes of the homophobic bullying I'd suffered in my first life. It meant that my eyes were watering just the right amount, and my voice the perfect amount of shaky, when I whispered at a pitch guaranteed to carry to the font few rows and be spread by gossip from there.

"Found my fury indeed. Just too late to save you from the lioness Robert."

I focused my thoughts on the present and let my eyes dry before I pushed things too far and actually cried as that would destroy my credibility. I made a show of steadying myself and sat up formally once again, projecting full control by the time Ser Balon finished is account.

"My beloved brother hunted, drank, and hunted drunk for nigh on seventeen years. Yet the very week that Lord Stark orders a ship of the Royal Fleet be made ready to retrieve my silent brother from Dragonstone so that we might confront Robert with the news of his queen's treason; He dies. An accident the queen says. I say the coincidence is too much my lords." Judging from the frowns around the hall, so did many others.

"You have no proof!" Duncan Trant spoke up.

I nodded magnanimously, conceding the point. "Indeed, Ser Duncan, I have none. I have only the evidence of my eyes, ears, and wits. Ser Balon, did Ser Barristan himself not comment on how King Robert was far drunker than usual?"

"He did my lord." Ser Balon confirmed. "Both with you in the morning and with myself after your departure."

I nodded as the muttering grew at Ser Balon's conformation. "And who was the squire handing my beloved brother his wine?"

"Lancel Lannister my lord."

"Queen Cersei's cousin." I pointed out for all who knew nothing about House Lannister's tree beyond the main line. Now the muttering was downright mutinous, I made sure to reinforce and direct it with hearsay and speculation. Those being my chosen weapons against the facts that Cersei was relying on to be her shield. "I must point out that Lancel Lannister is no kingslayer and the queen no assassin, not in the strictest sense of the law. In that alone Ser Duncan has the right of it. It is no crime to get the king drunk, if it were most of Robert's court would have been hung as traitors."

There was scattered laughter, but it died away as my face remained grim. "But as much as the forest is the abattoir of the gods, I do not believe that the queen left anything to chance. Yes, she likely hoped that Lancel providing fortified wine instead of a normal vintage would result in the king being gored, or falling from his horse and breaking his neck, or riding into a branch and caving in his skull, or a hundred other injuries. But I have no doubt that Lancel had instructions if my brother managed to survive the day's hunt despite the odds, he was to startle the horse as Robert dismounted. So that the king, too drunk to free himself from the stirrups, would be dragged through the forest to his death. As soon as she discovered that Lord Stark and I were so close to informing my brother, Queen Cersei made certain he would never return to the capital. That she was lucky enough that a boar did her dirty work for her may legally absolve her of the crime. But I say that in truth the king's blood is still on her hands, no matter that it was an animal that finally shed it."

"The lying, traitorous, whore!" Lord Ralph Buckler of Bronzegate called out from the right of the hall.

"The foul bitch should be hung like a commoner!" That was from Owen Penrose on the left.

"We should march to King's Landing and drag the cuckolding, brother fucking slut screaming from the Red Keep!" and that was Arstan Selmy in the dead centre.

"The Lannister cunt is due a good fucking by Stormlands cock! I say we give it to her!" my cousin, Alyn Estermont yelled out from the centre back.

All four of them came in bang on time and on script. Well, apart from Alyn. My cousin had taken far more artistic licence with the script than expected, but it fit the mood of the hall, so I rolled with it.

In the centre front it finally seemed to dawn on Granidson, Trant, Horpe, and their companions, that the other areas of the hall weren't on the same page as them. They looked concerned, but not knowing the psychology of crowds, they weren't nearly concerned enough.

Before I could move on as planned, my momentum was derailed by Lord Orys Swygert. "My lord, Ser Balon and yourself both state the King Robert appointed Eddard Stark as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm and tasked you with helping him. How is that that you sit here before us when the man our king asked you to aid sits in the black cells?"

I should have known that a house that put a scroll on their banner and who's words were 'Truth Conquers' was going to be trouble. Especially because Lord Swygert was at the centre back near the Estermonts, threatening my crowd manipulation by giving the impression that opposition to me was spreading.

"I am pleased that you have the bravery and integrity to ask, Lord Swygert." I declared happily, lying through my teeth as I flattered him and portrayed myself both as a lord open to respectful questioning, and one with nothing to dishonourable or illegal to hide.

If I was going to have to deal with that question, I was going to turn it in my favour as much as possible. House Swygert was known to be very legally minded, hence their sigil and words. While I hadn't planned to deliberately seek it out, their seal of approval would be an excellent shield now that my actions had been openly questioned.

"When my brother was gored and it was clear that the wound was mortal, I returned him to King's Landing as fast as possible, so that he might set things to rights. I told you of what I expected to happen then, when I tasked you to bring news of the king's wounding here, did I not Ser Balon?"

"You did my lord." The valiant knight replied courteously. "You said that there were many matters previously left sleeping which now must be addressed before King Robert departed."

"In truth there was only one, the question of Queen Cersei's children. When we returned and Lord Stark was appointed regent, the two of us argued over what to do next. We could not be certain how long Robert would last, but we were certain that even if we sent a raven to Dragonstone immediately, and Stannis chose to break his silence, respond, and set sail on the next tide, Robert would be dead long before my absent brother arrived."

There was some subtle shifting around as my deliberate shots at Stannis continued to hit home. Going full bore on the character assassination I needed to carry out wouldn't work right off the bat. Stannis' reputation shielded him too effectively. But these small comments highlighting how he had supposedly left Ned and I high and dry were constantly chipping away at his greatest strength; his reputation for being dutiful. Weakening his shield in preparation for my frontal assault.

"Had Stannis been present then perhaps we would have been able to agree a unified course of action. As it was, Ned and I were at loggerheads. I believed that we should immediately inform Robert, using his authority while he still had the power of speech to add the royal guard and the Kingsguard to our own household guards and loyal retinues, seizing the queen and supposed royal children at once. Lord Stark refused to sully Robert's final hours by causing his world to collapse with terrible truths and drag frightened children from their beds, no matter how necessary I believed it to be. A good course of action for a friend to take, but a terrible one for a regent. But then Ned always did have a soft spot for both my brother and for children."

Now there was outright uncomfortable shifting. While my supposed suggested course of action was far from chivalrous; legally it was exactly what Ned and I should have done. Orys Swygert was nodding in considered recognition, which was taken as agreeing with my legal interpretation. Preventing anyone from speaking against me openly no matter their true thoughts on my supposed plan.

"The course of action Lord Stark decided upon instead was to order the Master of Coin to secure the loyalty of the gold cloaks and then to use the Red Keep garrison to arrest Cersei Lannister and her children as soon as Robert died. Holding the throne as regent in Stannis' name until my brother cared to finally answer one of our messages and come to King's Landing."

Revealing Ned's preference for Stannis was a gamble, but he was really too honourable for me to be able to sell anything else without suffering blowback from those who knew him best. I was sure I could still work around it, so I had decided to tell the truth rather than infect the rest of my story by associating it with an obvious lie.

"How then did you come to be here my lord?" Lord Swygert asked again. He remained respectful, but was very firm, he wasn't going to let me off the hook.

"I did not believe that Lord Stark's plan was a viable one my lord. I had no confidence that Lord Baelish would try to secure the gold cloaks for us instead of selling us out to the Lannisters. Even if he did prove trustworthy, the Lannisters could outbribe myself and Lord Stark a dozen times over and Janos Slynt knew it. The gold cloak commander would no doubt go to Cersei for a larger bribe on his own initiative, even if Lord Baelish himself remained loyal. As Lord Stark could not be convinced to strike before Robert died, and I believed that his own plan was doomed to fail, I suggested that we should both retreat to Storm's End with his children and our households. From here we could plan our next move with 30,000 Stormlanders at our backs as his own banners gathered in Winterfell and prepared to march south to join us."

There were several outright looks of contempt and the mood of the hall swung away from me slightly again. Stormlanders didn't run from a fight, I had to convince them I hadn't abandoned Ned to save my own neck. Which was tricky as that was exactly what I had done.

"So you abandoned Lord Stark when he demanded you stand with him despite your doubts." Ser Duncan Trant sneered. The mood turned ugly, but surprisingly it wasn't directed at me. The accusation of cowardice when the rest of the lords were still giving me the benefit of the doubt was a gift I seized with both hands.

"Never." I replied emphatically, again lying through my teeth. "Had Lord Stark commanded me to stand with him I would have done so proudly, as my brother wished. But Lord Stark is no fool, he is a cunning and capable battle commander with few equals, and like all good commanders he knows the value of a strong reserve. Though he would not be swayed from his chosen course of action, Lord Stark directed me to take his children and leave for Storm's End in the morning. Lord Stark calculated that if my concerns were proven true and he was taken prisoner, he could not be forced to recant with none of his children prisoner. And the last lord who knew the truth about the queen and who Robert had charged with protecting the realm would be free to act."

At once the tension eased and the mood swung back to fully in support of me. Retreat, regroup, counterattack. These were actions the Lords of the Stormlands understood. Casting my flight from the city in that light worked exactly as intended.

"Lord Stark has two daughters my lord. Where is the other?" I missed who precisely called out the question, but it didn't matter.

I recounted the mad scramble that Robert's unexpectedly early demise had unleashed. Of Ned heading to the throne room and Ser Loras assembling the men loyal to me at the stables, while I rushed to the Tower of the Hand to evacuate Ned's daughters as supposedly agreed – only to find it already under Lannister assault.

Arya stepped forward once again, clinging to Nymeria as she recounted how a knight of the Kingsguard had come with ten Lannister guards to arrest her during her dancing lesson. Which had supposedly been so early due to her being unable to sleep due to the anxiety of our planned departure. In the silk dress of a princess, she cut the damsel in distress image perfectly despite her defiant and contemptuous tone towards the Lannister men who had come for her. The warbles and hitches in her voice caused by reliving the trauma were too genuine for a girl her age to reliably fake and caused many lords to reach for their swords as if to defend her after the fact. What was fake was her role in the story. I had made certain to impress on her that she wasn't to say what her dancing lessons actually involved, nor that she had taken part in dispatching the Lannister men.

According to the narrative that I had made sure everyone to agreed to follow, Syrio was teaching her the dances of the Braavosi court while acting as her sworn sword and protector in the dangerous capital. Something that raised no eyebrows at all given White Harbour was the Westerosi port that did the most trade with Braavos.

When Arya stopped after recounting the arrival of the Kingsguard and red cloaks, Edric Dayne took over. Explaining in his perfectly polite tones that he and Jon were going to the training yard to practice, as was their supposed habit in the predawn hour. He had seen his betrothed, an agreement brokered by me at his request only days before, going to her dancing lesson and he had decided to attend and watch to begin improving their knowledge of one another, with her half-brother and dancing master acting as chaperones.

That neatly explained away the death of Ser Meryn Trant and the red cloaks without revealing Arya's sword skills, playing up the Lannisters threatening helpless little girls while I and my retinue valiantly rescued them.

Judging by the indignation and red faces, along with several contemptuous glances at Ser Duncan Trant, it was working exactly as planned. I took up the narrative, making sure to emphasise the bits I needed to for the next step to land correctly.

"Both of you showed great courage, protecting Lady Arya both from a knight of the Kingsguard and from red cloaks who outnumbered you nearly four to one. In deciding to fight to protect the young and innocent despite such odds, you showed both an uncommon bravery and an uncompromising commitment to justice. In succeeding despite your age and inexperience, you showed unrivalled skill."

Both Edric and Jon were blushing and looking at their feet. This hadn't been in the script I'd given them. Deliberately so, as I wanted their reactions to be genuine. Just as Arya genuinely huffing and scowling about being called young, innocent, and needing to be saved, was making many lords secretly smile at her adorable behaviour.

"Jon Snow; kneel." The mood changed to tense anticipation as soon as the words left my lips.

Jon nearly protested as he hadn't actually been there, and so in his mind had done nothing to deserve the honour I was clearly about to bestow. But I fixed him with a stern gaze and he bent the knee, elation and self-loathing warring on his face. It seemed I would need to do another mental health session before sunset to get him back on an even keel, but for now the narrative of me being a generous lord willing to hand out advancements and recognition for loyal service was more important to establish.

I used my warhammer to dub his shoulders for the oath, which was probably a huge faux pas, but I wasn't willing to break the momentum that was building in my favour by waiting for a sword. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to follow the commands of your captain, your liege lord, and your king. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to carry out all tasks laid upon you, however hard or humble they may be."

Jon's eyes were wet, so I gave him a moment to compose himself before finishing the oath. "Arise Ser Jon Snow. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Arya abandoned all propriety and ran forward, throwing herself into Jon's arms for him to hold in the air and spin around. The lords roared in approval at the display, caught up in the moment and by the reminder that the knight's oath demanded exactly the actions I had emphasised Jon and Edric had supposedly showing in our escape from King's Landing.

When they had calmed a little and Jon had put a glowing Arya down, I turned to Edric.

"Edric Dayne, rarely does someone distinguish themselves so thoroughly as to defeat a knight of the Kingsguard in single combat at only fourteen years of age. Kneel."

Now the hall was silent. It was practically unheard of to be knighted at sixteen – Loras had only managed it because of his superb skill. Jamie Lannister had been knighted at fifteen for helping defeat the Kingswood Brotherhood and he was in the top ten of the most skilled knights Westerosi in history. Everyone realised they were watching history being written as I made to knight Edric at only fourteen. There had been younger knights, but all had been political knightings. This technically was as well, as I had no doubt that Jamie Lannister's fight with the Smiling Knight and the Kingswood Brotherhood had been tougher than Edric's against Ser Meryn Trant and the red cloaks. But after defeating a knight of the Kingsguard, none could gainsay my decision or call it political without revealing just how deep the rot had set into that unquestionable institution. Something I was ruthlessly taking advantage of. I was just sorry I hadn't managed to cause Ser Boros Blount's death in my frantic escape as well, I would have made sure it was attributed to Jon.

Edric was looking up at me in awe, still blushing to the roots of his ash blonde hair as I moved to knight him with my warhammer. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to follow the commands of your captain, your liege lord, and your king. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to carry out all tasks laid upon you, however hard or humble they may be. Arise Ser Edric Dayne. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

This time the hall exploded in cheers at witnessing living history, more than once I heard people taking bets on when Edric would be named the next Sword of the Morning.

As the cheering finally subsided Edric made to resume his place next to my nephew, but I held up a hand and stopped him. "It will be some time still before you are worthy of Dawn, but it does not seem right that one who has accomplished so much so young is limited to castle forged steel."

A wave of my had saw a servant approach with a plain wooden box. Several people frowned, but Edric just waited nervously.

I withdrew a parrying dagger in a dark purple scabbard embossed with a white falling star on either side and presented it formally to Edric. "I have absolute confidence that one day you will be named the Sword of the Morning. When that happens, Dawn and Nightfall will be united and kept together for all time. The skill and honour of Ser Arthur Dayne lives on in you Edric, and I am honoured to have you in my service."

With shaking hands, the young Dornish boy grasped the white leather hilt and pulled. In contrast to the plain steel of the crossguard and pommel, the blade rippled. Dark grey battling a deep purple for dominance, almost as if watching the waves of the sea in the very last of the day's light.

There was stunned whispering throughout the hall as Edric gazed disbelievingly at the Valyrian steel parrying dagger. Most people thought Dawn was a greatsword, as many maesters texts made that claim. In reality it was a bastard sword, which was why Ser Arthur Dayne had been able to dual wield with it with a shortsword against Eddard Stark at the Tower of Joy. But no matter the magic of the blade in their sword hands, all Swords of the Morning that had been dual wielders had held nothing but pain castle forged steel in their off hands, no matter what weapon they had had the skill to use.

This was unacceptable, I wasn't going to have one of my most skilled assets killed by a Wight because, in the heat of battle, Edric forgot that the parrying dagger in his offhand had no magical properties. Now when Edric dual wielded, the steel in his off-hand would be just as deadly and magical as the steel in his right. In time, Dawn and Nightfall together would make him even more deadly than his uncle had been.

"My…My lord!" Edric choked out. "I cannot accept this! I'm only alive because you arranged our escape and treatment for my wounds! Any Valyrian steel you have managed to acquire should go first to your own house!"

Having come straight from the training yard I wasn't wearing the gold cloak that would normally be attached to my armour, so – annoyingly – I couldn't sweep it back from my hip dramatically. Nevertheless, my hand immediately fell to the black scabbard with golden stags attached to my armoured belt and pulled out the dagger sheathed within.

Though the four stags on the crossguard indicated quality, the plain black leather hilt and plain brass pommel had allowed it to hide in plain sight, and there were gasps of realisation as my lords saw the grey and gold ripples warring for dominance in the metal of the blade as I held it high for all to see.

"I already acquired Valyrian steel for my house Edric. Lightning will serve me and all the Baratheons after me. Nightfall will serve the Sword of the Morning; exceptional service demands exceptional rewards."

Greed filled the eyes of my lords as they realised exactly what rewards could flow from loyal service to me. Certainly knighthoods, titles, and brokered betrothals. Lands likely weren't out of the question, and even the possibility of Valyrian steel now dangled in front of them like a roast chicken in front of a starving wolf.

Edric nodded in stunned acceptance before returning to his position, still staring disbelievingly at Nightfall, as if the blade would disappear as soon as he took his eyes off it.

Maester Jurne cleared his throat before I could speak again. "My lord, there is already a Valyrian steel blade named Nightfall. It's the ancestral longsword of House Harlaw of the Iron Islands."

I permitted myself a small smirk as my maester blundered headlong into the trap I had laid for him.

"Not for long Jurne. Balon Greyjoy has rebuilt the Iron Fleet, no doubt he will declare himself king again when he learns of my brother's death. I will not be so merciful as my brother was when I smash his pitiful delusions. Nightfall and Red Rain are some of the many things that will be forfeit and in need of new owners."

Now the mood of my lords was positively hungry. The potential of being rewarded with Valyrian steel just became a tangible reality for them, and they wanted it badly.

"My Lord, surely it will be King Stannis who decides the terms of surrender should the Lord Reaper rebel again." Orys Swygert spoke up again.

Now came the crux of the matter. Orys had disrupted my crowd manipulation, but thankfully not by much as he was so respectful while questioning me. So I proceeded as planned.

Lord Hugh Granidson, Ser Owen Horpe, Ser Duncan Trant and their group of malcontents in the front and centre seemed to light up, their eyes glittering as they no doubt imagined me being side-lined and left powerless by a vengeful Stannis. My brother not only believed I had stolen his birthright of Storm's End, but absolutely despised that I consorted with a Tyrell. Let alone loved one more than I loved him. Of course, he also conveniently dismissed all he himself had done to bring that circumstance about.

I sank heavily into the Storm Throne, leaning forwards to rest my elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists, the black and gold of my armour glittering as I moved.

"My lords. I wish…I truly wish… that I could support Lord Stannis' claim as unreservedly as Lord Regent Stark did. But I have come into possession of information that makes it very difficult for me to do so, this is why I have called all of you here. To hear your counsel on the matter.

"What possible reason could you have for denying the claim of the rightful king?!" Lord Orys cried out, showing emotion for the first time.

"He betrayed Robert." I answered clearly, making the hall erupt in denials.

"Lord Stannis is ever dutiful. He would never betray King Robert!" Ser Owen Horpe snarled from his centre front spot.

"I thought the same." I stated quietly, forcing them all to quieten themselves to hear me. "But when I returned to Storm's End, I learned that Ser Davos Seaworth had been approaching houses in Lord Stannis' name since word of my calling of the banners reached Dragonstone."

He hadn't yet of course, news of Robert's death would have not long arrived on Dragonstone and dutiful Stannis would never have moved while he was still alive. But I had taken care of that.

"It's true." Owen Penrose called out from the left. "Ser Davos tried to convince my father to send Parchment's levies to Dragonstone rather than Storm's End. Saying that Stannis is the rightful king."

Many looked ready to dismiss Owen's claims as House Penrose was known to be my strongest supporter.

"He made the same attempt with me." Lord Casper Wylde called out from the right. "He arrived at Rain House while Lord Renly was still in King's Landing, claiming that Stannis was the rightful king."

As someone who was known to be one of my lords with the lowest opinion of me, Lord Casper's testimony changed the mood completely as the legitimacy of Ser Davos' supposed actions was massively boosted. None of my other lords knew of the fact that the now middle-aged man had been the one to first introduce an early teenaged Renly to gay sex, a brief relationship that Renly ended before Loras' arrival at Storm's End. Given how the nearly twenty-year age difference made it very dubious to my modern sensibilities, and the constant favours Casper requested made it very dubious to the original Renly as well once he caught on, I had had no guilt in using the threat of starting whispers naming him as the source of Renly's supposed 'perversion' as very effective blackmail.

"He called on me as well." Lord Steffon Mertyns called out, nearly making me break my carefully schooled mournful expression from the shock. "Ser Davos made the same claims and demands to me at Mistwood. I turned him away."

House Mertyns should be neutral in this, none of their members were friends of mine. While I did have a single piece of blackmail on them, I'd decided not to use it as the guilt would have eaten me alive. Yet now they were lying for me, unasked, and with no idea of the script.

I desperately wanted to know what butterflies I had created to cause that and whatever else may be barrelling down the tracks at me that I was completely unaware of. But I had to focus.

"Stannis was claiming to be the rightful king when Robert was still alive and had three children that were supposedly only known to be bastards by two living people. Lord Stark and myself." I opened my hands and let my face fall into my palms, the very picture of despair, but I was sure to still speak clearly enough for my voice to carry.

"It feels like the worst kind of betrayal to even consider it, but I can think of only one reason for his actions my lords."

"He knew!" My cousin Alyn screamed out, coming in right on que. "He knew and he left you to die!"

The bellows, roars, and denials, worked in my favour this time so I let them build until they burned themselves out as each lord turned back to look at me.

I made a show of recovering myself, sitting up formally. "I can think of no other explanation, my lords, for why Stannis was calling himself the rightful king when my brother was still alive, and his children legitimate in the eyes of all but myself and Lord Stark. Lord Stannis was known to be close with Jon Arryn. I suspect that he knew everything that the Lord Hand knew, but when Lord Arryn was poisoned, Stannis withdrew. He did not share the knowledge with my brother, nor with myself, nor with Lord Eddard when he arrived. While we investigated, he remained silent, when we begged him to return, he remained silent, when the queen plotted my brother's death, he remained silent."

I let the truth of Stannis' actions hang in the air for a moment before I provided my explanation for them. "Stannis had decided that as the knowledge of the supposed royal children's true parentage had gotten Jon Arryn killed, it would get myself, Lord Stark, and my brother killed in turn. He decided to abandon all three of us to our fates and wait for what he felt he has always deserved more than Robert, for the crown to land legitimately upon his head with no dishonourable action on his part."

There was a shocked silence as I finally rammed the dagger home in Stannis' back.

The fact that his actions themselves were true and I had only had to manufacture a believable explanation and the evidence explaining how I knew was just the icing on the cake.

"Lord Stannis would never act against his king!" Lord Grandison called out hotly.

"He didn't, he simply said nothing. That's a very different thing and is something that Lord Stannis could easily have justified to himself." Lord Rogers justified from the right, coming off the fence and bringing several people in his section with him. Bribing him had paid off handsomely, though the Storm's End treasury would certainly notice me writing off such a large loan.

"Long has Lord Stannis detested the way the King Robert ruled, believing he could do better himself! When the chance to ascend the Iron Throne without kinslaying or rebelling came before him, is it surprising he seized it with both hands?" Ralph Buckler called out, also from the right. The momentum in my favour was building up an unstoppable head of steam in that section.

"So has Lord Renly! What evidence do we have that he didn't abandon Robert just like he claims Lord Stannis did?" Ser Duncan Trant called out desperately, seeing his section of the crowd becoming more isolated by the moment.

"The evidence of Lord Stark's confidence in him! Given from the mouths of his own children and the fact he placed them in Lord Renly's care! What more do you want than the word of the most honourable man in the realm and King Robert's best friend?" Arstan Selmy roared out from the centre, dragging the momentum in that section up to the level of the right by sheer force of personality.

"Lord Stannis believes in honour and justice too! Lord Swygert! Surely there is no justice nor honour in promoting the younger child over the elder!" Ser Owen Horpe spat furiously.

"Justice is not burning your lords alive when they defend the Seven!" Ser Aenys Lonmouth called out from the left, another piece of blackmail paying off. "Lord Stannis burned the Dragonstone Godswood and Sept, we all know it! But Ser Hubard Rambton led his three sons in defence of the Seven when Lord Stannis' men came for their statues, statues carved from the masts of the Valyrian ships themselves. Several died, but two of his sons survived. Lord Stannis burned them alive! Along with Lord Sunglass who spoke in their defence! He tied them to the images of the Father, the Warrior and the Smith, said that they could die with the Seven if they loved them so much!"

The best part about that lie was that by the time anyone had the ability to check it, Stannis would have allowed Selyse and Melisandre to do exactly that. With the deaths confirmed, no one would quibble about the timing and how Ser Aenys supposedly knew of the burnings before they happened.

The Lonmouths were Targaryen supporters and known to hate all Baratheon's, but especially me as I was the least martial of the three. For them to turn on the Baratheon they respected most in support of the one they respected least? That really put rocket boosters on the momentum in my favour.

The hall reached fever pitch, my groundwork on the King's Landing docks making sure that everyone already 'knew' and accepted that Stannis had burned the Godswood and Sept. Ensuring that the additional information provided by the Targaryen supporting Lonmouths who had known connections to Dragonstone was believed instantly.

Lords and landed knights all screamed out denunciations of Stannis and his Red God, saying that they had toppled one mad king that burned lords alive and would not put another on the throne that did the same.

I made myself heard above the chaos with difficulty.

"My lords! My lords!...I know that I am the younger brother, that by law and by precedent the Iron Throne belongs to Stannis. But I cannot in good conscience ask you to die for a man who abandons his kin and his king, a man who burns his own lords alive. Fortunately, we have a solution. Great Councils have chosen kings in the past when the legal heir was unfit. Let us have our own Great Council now! The law says Stannis is the king of the Seven Kingdoms. But I say that you, the Lords of the Stormlands, should decide who is the Storm King! Is it Stannis?"

The wave of sound that answered my question held many words – but could be best summarised as a resounding 'NO'.

It was time to take the leap of faith.

"If you will not have Stannis then you have a choice. Lord Stannis has issue in his daughter Shireen, my beloved brother Robert has issue in his bastard Edric Storm. I bare neither ill will, but I believe that I, the youngest child of Steffon Baratheon, younger brother of Robert Baratheon – First of his Name, am the most suited to being the Storm King! Do you agree my lords?! Will you have me as your king?!"

Renly! Renly! Renly! Renly! RENLY! RENLY!

I took that as a yes.

Non-Canon Characters

I really don't like it when writers create non canon characters to fulfil story needs rather than adapt their plot to work with the same resources their characters have access to. As such whenever I create one, I will list it and my justification, which is often that canon proves their existence, we just haven't encountered them yet. Here are the ones that have appeared so far.

'Alyssa Snow' – If you're a great lord and your name isn't Eddard Stark, you have one of these people on the payroll. Roose Bolton has Locke, Stannis has Melisandre, Olenna, Tywin, Doran, and Wyman Manderly all have one off stage.

Ser Owen Penrose – Canon Lordly House, but it only has Ser Cortnay and his unnamed dying father. As the house does not go extinct on their deaths, I have given Ser Cortnay a brother, Owen (33), and a nephew, Renly (13).

Ser Aenys Lonmouth – Canon Landed Knight House, but only Ser Richard is named. As it does not go extinct there must be more members. I have given him a son, Aenys, who became the head of house when Ser Richard left for the wall in the early chapters.

Ser Owen Horpe – Canon Landed Knight House, but only Ser Richard is named. As he is not the head of house there must be more. As Ser Richard is a young R'hllor worshiper fighting for Stannis, I have given him a father.

Ser Duncan Trant – Canon Landed Knight House, but only Ser Meryn is named. As he is not the head of house there must be more. As House Trant is not extinct, I have given him a father

House Mertyns – Canon Lordly House, but only Lady Mary, the old dowager, is named. She is stated as having 'sons and grandsons' so I have given her two sons; Lord Steffon (41) and Ser Corwin (36). These two have given her three grandsons between them, Ser Jacelyn (19), Robert (17), and Criston (16)

Lord Orys Swygert – Canon Lordly house, but with no named members. I have given them Orys Swgert as lord, and given him a son Eldon (27) and two daughters, Cassandra (23), and Ellyn (19)