A/N: Sorry for missing an upload on Wednesday, and for uploading so late on Thursday. It is about 11:40 where I am at when I published this, so I hope that it will upload before it becomes midnight. To make it up to everyone, I will upload on Friday and Saturday. This is one of the final chapters of the first act of the story, meaning the exposition is about to end and the rising action will begin shortly. There will be an OC introduced that will signal the beginning of the rising action, and every chapter in the rising action will contribute to the climax and have plenty of action. This is Stafford's last chapter of the act, but he will receive the second POV of the second act and will of course be a focus character in the act. Again sorry, for the late upload, and hope you continue to read, vote on the pairing poll, and leave criticism of the work. My collaborators and I will only get better with feedback, so if there is something you don't like about the novel, if there's something you like.
Stafford
Stafford was glad the long journey from Winterfell to King's Landing had concluded. The hours and hours on end of riding had bored and tired him. He dreamed of crashing down on his bed and just laying there for awhile. He wanted to zone out and think of nothing, and try to forget about what happened at the trident. He just lay in his room, located of course in Old King's Maegor's Holdfast, where everyone stayed within the Red Keep. Stafford just blankly stared up at the ceiling, not really knowing what else to do. His bones felt the fatigue of the journey he had just undergone. Stafford felt his mind whirling around in circles after the events that transpired in the trident. An innocent girl's prized pet taken away from her by his own mother, a young boy cut down in cold blood, and the growing uneasiness in the castle walls. Stafford couldn't bear to the think that it would happen along the way. The Starks and the Lannister's were already at odds with one another, and what was worse he was caught up in it. He himself, had the blood of the Lords of Casterly Rock coursing through his veins, yet he had sympathies towards the Starks. He hoped none of the tension would break out causing a flurry of damage towards both sides. Stafford hoped to the seven, he wouldn't have to play messenger for the small council today. He had enough of sending messages back and forth from the Grand Maester and father, who apparently had no interest in ruling the kingdom.
His thoughts were interrupted with a knock on the door. Who in the seven hells could that be. Stafford thought to himself. He had even rode ahead of the party and skipped the gallantries of the King reentering King's Landing. Stafford didn't really care for all that right now, all he wanted to do was rest. It certainly couldn't be Ser Barristan, he was riding next to his King, or Stafford's father to be exact. Joffrey was to busy in the royal wheelhouse, no doubt still a bit rattled by the amount of confrontations they had along the way, so he couldn't be the one at the door. Let alone him visiting Stafford would be totally out of character. Stafford couldn't understand Joffrey, there were many people in King's Landing, who didn't like Stafford, but none of them showed it as much as his own brother. Stafford could not tell whether, it was just blind hatred or envy. He didn't really care to be honest, what difference does his brother make in his life anyway? Sure he's kin, and Stafford stood by his own kin well enough, but when his kin hated him as much as his father hated Rhaegar Targaryen, it was hard for him to figure out how to even remotely care for him. He was clueless in who could be knocking on his door at this time.
"Who knocks?" Stafford managed to sigh as he looked towards his door. Whoever it was, it had better be important.
"Your uncle," a stern voice replied. That voice could only belong to one person. Stafford knew it belonged to his uncle Stannis Baratheon, the second eldest son of his grandfather Steffon. Stafford, begrudgingly got up from lying down on the bed, and unlocked the door. He opened the door to see his uncle there, not in any armor meaning he had stayed in King's Landing for some reason and didn't go to Dragonstone like he had stated before Stafford and his family left for Winterfell. Of all his uncles, Stafford looked the most like Stannis. Sure, some people mistake Renly for his father all the time, but most people could not deny the eerie resemblance Stannis had with Stafford. They had the same blue eyes and very similar tight face structure, except Stafford's was much less stern and a little more regal. Stafford also had quite a bit more hair on his head than his uncle. Stafford looked much more like his Baratheon uncles than he did than his Lannister ones. This was opposite with Tommen, Myrcella, and Joffrey, but it was that way with the Starks too. All of the children, except Arya took more of their features from their mother.
"Uncle Stannis, I thought you'd be at Dragonstone by now. Why are you still in King's Landing?" Stafford asked. Uncle Stannis always went back to Dragonstone, once or twice a year and he decided to take the liberty to so, when they left for King's Landing.
"A certain death and new appointment in the King's Landing made those plans change," Stannis stated, "Anyway, Lord Eddard Stark had just arrived to the small council and Grand Maester Pyrcelle called for you."
"Let me guess, I need to play messenger to my father, so I need to carefully take notes while you take care of matters of the realm. Then, I will relay them to my father once he arrives to the castle, only to have most of my messages ignored unless there is a talk of feasting or Targaryens involved," Stafford managed to ramble.
"Indeed, it seems you are getting used to the role of messenger. Come, the meeting will start as soon Lord Eddard Stark arrives, if he decides to arrive," Stannis managed to reply. Stafford and Stannis had a relationship based on mutual respect. Stafford knew Stannis knew how to get things done, and Stannis knew Stafford behind the boisterous, non serious aura he gave, Stafford would step up when it mattered. Stafford and Stannis were by no means the closest of friends or even acted like kin with one another, but they both knew they could depend on each other when it mattered.
Without another word Stafford nodded and followed his uncle to where the King's small council met. Stafford wasn't a member of his father's small council nor did he advise the small council in any way. All he did was send messages about the meetings to his father and the small council, and inform him at what was going on in the small council chamber. Stafford did not want to be involved in this small council business at all. He wasn't sharp or that well informed in any of the matters they discussed, but he was very observant and could pick up anything the small council had talked about or mentioned. Jon Artyn had made him do this before he had died, because King Robert spent more time with Stafford rather than Joffrey. He wasn't wrong about that, but Stafford still felt his father never even managed to listen to the small councils messages to him in the first place.
When they got into the chamber, the hand had not been there yet. The chamber was richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes, and in one corner a hundred fabulous beasts cavorted in bright paints on a carved screen from the Summer Isles. The walls were hung with tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and Lys, and a pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces. There stood the rest of the members of the small council. Varys, the master of whispers, controlled most of the spies and heard many things that happened within the city walls and around the Seven Kingdoms. No rumor was safe from the 'Spider' as he had been called. Next came the master of coin, Petyr Baelish. Stafford encountered and knew the man very little outside of official royal business. He had only ever seen him in the small council that he was compelled to observe to relay messages to his father, and sometimes whenever someone request the King and his council's audience, which was rare in times of peace. Lord Baelish was a man of short stature, Stafford stood much taller than him, almost half a foot taller than Lord Baelish, but slightly half his age. Lord Baelish had a unique pointed beard, and a slender build, which were two things besides his height that Stafford seemed to noticed. While Stafford seemed a little stocky and broad shoulder, Lord Baelish was as slender as a knife. Stafford felt that Lord Baelish was a friendly man, and made a great part of the small council. At the other end of the room was Grand Maester Pycelle. This was the same man, who had taught Stafford how to read and write, although it took him longer than most people to teach the young man how to do these things. Pycelle always told him that the gods give men talents and the works of the mind were not his. He did, however, say that what he lacked in raw intellect was replaced by great passion and hard work in whatever he did, which in turn made Stafford far from a dunce. He wasn't the brightest scholar nor did he want to be one, however. Stafford always knew it was the Grand Maester when he saw his long snowy beard.
"Took you two long enough, now we wait for the new hand," he heard someone declare. He knew it could only belong to his uncle Renly, who stood there in deep green velvet. He really did pay attention to his attire, unlike Stafford, who always somehow found a way to incorporate only black and yellow into his clothing. Some people told him he looked like a bee sometimes, but Stafford thought fashion was something left to those who prefer the pursuits of beauty rather than aspiring warriors and princes. It seemed a waste of time to think about your appearance, but instead time should be spent thinking about what you have achieved worthy to note. A noteworthy appearance doesn't mean someone is noteworthy at all. Just look at Joffrey, Stafford thought. Many people in the keep think him handsome, and princely, but in private he does not do anything noteworthy at all besides complain to their mother.
"You know me, uncle. I wouldn't miss another one of these drab boring small council meetings, even if Prince Aegon Targaryen were to come back from the dead, magically be my age, and challenge me to a duel to avenge his fallen father," Stafford jested. His uncle Renly chuckled, while his other uncle Stannis remained solemn and serious.
"Ha, I'd bet you'd rather be with your lady than be in any of these meetings. Are you lonely and alone, because she has not arrived in King's Landing yet?" His uncle Renly jokingly responded referring to Arya, "I heard you even went axe to blade with a man like Sandor Clegane just because something he did made her go to tears. Honestly, I don't know what it is with anyone or anything related to Robert Baratheon, that makes them so attached to Starks." Stafford grew red a little, Renly had been joking with him about Arya ever since they had met up with the royal procession at the trident. He always definitely talked about how he remembered when he was a boy of eight and how they both looked like Robert and Lyanna when they were younger. Stafford brushed off that joke, but thought about it for a moment. He was a dead ringer of his father from before the rebellion only about five years younger and Arya did remind her of the description his father had given him of Lyanna, which he had mentioned to him a few times albeit he was usually very drunk, which could have made her beauty feel a little more exaggerated than it was.
"You talk quite the storm uncle, maybe we should settle this with steel?" Stafford jokingly suggested.
"And have to floor you on the ground multiple times, no thank you. I'd rather not get into trouble with your mother for beating you up beyond recognition," Renly mockingly replied.
"Do I have to remind you what happened at Storm's End during our sparring match?" Stafford brought up with a little pride and dignity in his eyes. Renly's face went blank, Stafford probably thought he realized he had walk straight into that one. Stafford had beaten Renly thoroughly in five straight sparring matches at Storm's End, when Renly had decided to see whether Ser Barristan had actually trained him well or not.
"Those matches were based on luck," Renly stated slightly seriously, but even Stannis the master of emotions, could see that he didn't really mean what he said. He was just not going to out right say, that he somehow lost to a boy of fifteen in sparring matches.
"If beating you five straight times is dumb luck, then maybe I should do some more with the dumb luck than just beat you uncle," Stafford stated sarcastically. Renly couldn't contain himself and started laughing and so did Stafford. This is why most of the time, the Grand Maester and Lord Arryn had to separate Stafford and Renly, because they would just joke around with another during the entire meeting.
"Renly, Stafford, can you both stop acting like children for a moment and compose yourselves. The hand could arrive any moment now and if he sees a member of our small council, especially the master of laws joking around with the messenger, who is only a boy of fifteen, he might starting doubting competence," Stannis scolded them both. Renly simply rolled his eyes.
"Brighten up, brother. Of course we won't act this way with the hand present, Isn't that right, Staff?" Renly stated as he elbowed Stafford.
'Sure, dear uncle, whatever you say," Stafford replied. Suddenly the closed chamber doors opened. Lord Eddard Stark had finally arrived and Stafford took his position of observation. He wasn't going to be doing any talking or suggesting for the meeting. He was simply there to help relay what is being discussed to his father, who was almost never there in the meetings. His father left most of the care of the realm to the small council and to the hand of the king. Poor Jon Arryn had to take care of so much of the realm when he was still living. He hoped the burden of having to run Westeros would not transfer to Lord Eddard Stark. He didn't want him to be overworked like the previous hand of the king.
"Lord Stark, I was grievous sad to hear about your troubles on the kingsroad. We have all been visiting the sept to light candles for Prince Joffrey. I pray for his recovery." Varys stated as he put a hand on Lord Eddard's shoulder and quickly retracted it. Stafford noticed it had left powdered stains on his sleeve.
"Your gods have heard you," Ned replied, cool yet polite. "The prince grows stronger every day." He soon turned across the room and turned to where Renly and Stafford were standing with Stannis.
"I see you have arrived safely, Lord Stark," his uncle Renly said.
"And you as well," Lord Eddard replied. He then quickly turned to Stafford, quite surprised that he was even in the small council meeting room, "Don't tell me your father has you serving on the small council at such a young age?"
"With gladness, not Lord Stark. I'm here to deliver messages to my father about the progress of the meetings, what was discussed, and such things," Stafford stated. Lord Eddard looked relieved and worried at the same time with the response. He probably caught onto what he had hinted at with his statement. But it looked like he shrugged it off and moved on to something else. He seemed tired from the journey and had no wish to be in a small council meeting as of the moment. Stafford wanted nothing to do of a meeting of the small council after such a long journey from the North. They had to trek through a vast region of Westeros and now that they finally got to King's Landing, there was still plenty left to be done. No wonder his father wanted nothing to do with ruling the kingdom.
"Forgive me, how do you do Lord Stannis? It's just odd to see so much Baratheons in one room. I mean, Stafford and Renly look so much like Robert, it seems like there are two copies of Robert in the room with us," Lord Eddard declared. Stannis simply nodded in reply not keeping out of his attitude of seriousness. Stafford knew when Stannis was serious, he was not going to bother with petty introductions. He was a man of custom, and tradition, but when he felt the custom on tradition had no purpose whatsoever, he didn't really follow it.
"A poor copy," Renly said with a shrug.
"I don't know father's a little taller and wider than I am," Stafford also shrugged.
"Though much better dressed," Littlefinger quipped. "Lord Renly spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court. Stafford on the other hand could pass as a doppleganger. Just make him grow a beard and you got Robert standing before your very eyes."
"There are worse crimes," Renly said with a laugh. "The way you dress, for one."
Lord Baelish ignored the jibe. He eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. "I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you."
"She has," Ned replied with a chill in his voice. The sly arrogance of the comment rankled him. "I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."
Stafford and Renly burst into laughter. Stafford dropped the parchment, he had in his hands as well as his quill slight notes on the introductions. Stannis quickly eyed the two, but let it slide, and Varys quickly shuffled over to listen to the conversation.
Rather too well," Lord Baelish said. "I still carry a token of his esteem. Did Brandon speak of me too?"
"Often, and with some heat," Lord Eddard stated said, hoping that would end it. Stafford clearly saw that the conversation was a dance of words. Lord Baelish and Lord Eddard had history it seemed.
"I should have thought that heat ill suits you Starks," Lord Baelish said. "Here in the south, they say you are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck."
"I do not plan on melting soon, Lord Baelish. You may count on it." Ned moved to the council table and said, "Maester Pycelle, I trust you are well." The Grand Maester smiled gently from his tall chair at the foot of the table.
"Well enough for a man of my years, my lord," he replied, "yet I do tire easily, I fear." Wispy strands of white hair fringed the broad bald dome of his forehead above a kindly face.
Perhaps we might begin soon," the Grand Maester said, hands knitting together atop his broad stomach. "I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer."
"As you will." The king's seat sat empty at the head of the table, the crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on its pillows. Lord Eddard took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his king. "
My lords," he said formally, "I am sorry to have kept you waiting."
"You are the King's Hand," Varys said. "We serve at your pleasure, Lord Stark." Stafford finally had to get down to business and prepared for the notes that he would have to take about the meeting. This would surely be good.
"Well now that everyone is here, take your seats," Lord Eddard stated, and the small council complied. Stafford was already sitting down in his customary seat, outside of the where the main council was, but it was enough to where he could see everything and hear all the words of the council.
"Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us," Ned suggested.
His uncle Renly laughed aloud. "If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, it could be a long sit. This is precisely why we have young Stafford over there to relay messages back and forth,"
"Our good King Robert has many cares," Varys said. "He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load."
"What Lord Varys means is that all this business of coin and crops and justice bores my royal brother to tears," his uncle Renly said, "so it falls to us to govern the realm. He does send us a command from time to time." Stafford didn't really know why, but it seemed to always be true. His father never appeared before the council in a while, but he did send orders from time to time, but Stafford always told his uncle Renly what the orders were. He remembered telling Renly about one of his father's rare commands, and it caused Renly and him to ride ahead. Stafford didn't remember what it was, but something inside him felt excited about it, but he had been engrossed in joke and mocking sessions with his uncle Renly, when they were riding ahead, that it caused him to forget what order he had told his uncle Renly to deliver. Stafford knew this was what the meeting was about, but he couldn't remember what. All he remembered is he delivered a wax sealed paper to his uncle and they rode ahead of his father this morning.
He drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. "This morning, his son Stafford delivered a command from his father to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us."
"Gods be good," he swore. "What Lord Eddard means to say," Lord Renly announced, "is that His Grace instructs us to stage a great tournament in honor of his appointment as the Hand of the King."
"How much?" asked Lord Baelish, mildly. Ned read the answer off the letter. "Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition."
"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger sighed. "And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools . ." Stafford still stunned at hearing news of a tournament, finally felt the excitement rush through him again. In major tournaments in King's Landing his father had always allowed him to compete in the axe throwing competition. No one had ever beaten Stafford in axe throwing ever since they had started holding those competitions on his thirteenth nameday. Some say, they made those competitions just, because Stafford was so good at throwing the damn axes. However, there was also a sudden dread in Stafford as he began scrawling down the notes in his piece of parchment.
"Fools we have in plenty," Lord Renly said.
"I second that," Stafford muttered enough for only Renly to hear. Renly chuckled a bit under his breath, but Stannis caught it.
"Something the matter, brother?" Stannis stated.
"Nothing," Renly stated as he composed himself a little.
Grand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlefinger and asked, "Will the treasury bear the expense?"
"What treasury is that?" Littlefinger replied with a twist of his mouth. "Spare me the foolishness, Maester. You know as well as I that the treasury has been empty for years. I shall have to borrow the money. No doubt the Lannisters will be accommodating. We owe Lord Tywin some three million dragons at present, what matter another hundred thousand?" Stafford thought the number was close to four million, but he guessed he was mistaken. Still three million dragons was a debt very hard to get out of.
Lord Eddard was stunned. "Are you claiming that the Crown is three million gold pieces in debt?"
"The Crown is more than six million gold pieces in debt, Lord Stark. The Lannisters are the biggest part of it, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels. Of late I've had to turn to the Faith. The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger."
Lord Eddard was aghast, not doubt upset at what he had just heard "Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen? I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed for this to happen."
Grand Maester Pycelle shook his great bald head, his chains clinking softly. "Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but I fear that His Grace does not always listen to wise counsel."
"I will speak with His Grace," Ned said. "This tourney is an extravagance the realm cannot afford."
"Speak to him as you will," Lord Renly said, "we had still best make our plans."
"Another day," Lord Eddard said. Perhaps too sharply, from the looks they gave him. He would have to remember that he was no longer in Winterfell, where only the king stood higher; here, he was but first among equals.
"Forgive me, my lords," he said in a softer tone. "I am tired. Let us call a halt for today and resume when we are fresher." He did not ask for their consent, but stood abruptly, nodded at them all, and made for the door. Stafford was just glad the damn council meeting was over, and his uncle Stannis looked over to Stafford.
"You best deliver what little we discussed to your father once he gets, here. In the meantime, do whatever you wish. You can even go back to your quarters if you'd like," Stannis stated.
"I heard the rest of the Starks have also arrived, giving you plenty of time to fraternize with your little special friend of yours before the day is done," His uncle Renly jested. Stafford was about to make a joke, but felt it would be of bad taste as Renly's personal habits were not supposed to be discussed in the small council. The members of the small council began to ease up and some even, Lord Baelish began to leave the chamber. Stafford excused himself from his uncles and left the small council chambers.
Stafford managed to get out of the stuffy little small council chambers and made his way back to his quarters. Outside, wagons and riders were still pouring through the castle gates, and the yard was a chaos of mud and horseflesh and shouting men. It was true, the Starks had arrived. Stafford wondered where Arya was, probably wandering around exploring the castle. She hasn't been the best of mood of late after Mycah had died. She still spent a lot of time with Stafford, who noticed her a little less energetic a little more brooding every minute they spent together. Stafford didn't blame her, a lot happened during their journey to Winterfell that can change even the toughest of men or women. Yet, Stafford felt like she was still her the same girl he met in Winterfell, almost not yielding her personality no matter what happened during her life. Stafford thought about this has he was about leave the open air, but he stopped when he heard a familiar voice call for him.
"Stafford! Wait for me," he heard her call. He turned around and saw Arya, still dressed in whatever she wore as she travelled the Kingsroad.
"I knew it was you as soon as I heard your voice," Stafford stated.
"So where are you going," Arya asked.
"Back to my room, probably going to take a long nap," Stafford replied.
"Oh, well, I thought we could go practice with our swords," Arya stated. As Arya was about to turn around, Stafford had a little change of heart.
"Wait, I'll spar with you. Be prepared, just because I'm tired right now, doesn't mean I'm going take it easy on you," Stafford stated.
"I don't need you to, besides I think I can beat you today," Arya declared. Stafford chuckled a little bit. It was the same line she always repeated before their sparring matches, but she had never beaten him. Stafford, admired her boldness and bravery however. And one thing was for certain, she put up a better fight than Joffrey ever would.