Chapter 20

Tywin looked at the piece of paper in his hands once again. This Young Wolf had deceived them, greatly. It was hubris, I overestimated myself and underestimated him, Tywin thought. Maybe the seventeen years of peace really had dulled his skill on the battlefield somewhat. Nevertheless, his thoughts remained focused on the present.

"They have my son." He said simply.

"The Stark boy seems less green than we'd hoped." Tyrion responded. A rare smart observation coming from this table, and from his own stunted dwarf of a son, no less.

"Is it true about Steffon and Renly?" Ser Addam Marbrand asked.

"Renly's gathering troops to his banner; all signs point to him crowning himself King. As for Steffon, he resides with his Stannis on Dragonstone, currently. The Royal Fleet has already sunk any scout vessels we send towards the island, and Stannis is gathering men to his side." Kevan explained. That was a troubling development to be sure. Yes, with the right amount of doctoring Steffon's rescue attempt could be made to look like the actions of a traitor, but the intervention of Stark's son had made things more complicated. I shall have to send someone to King's Landing.

"Perhaps we should sue for peace." Kevan added. Tyrion ppushed a cup off the table and watched it smash to the ground.

"There's your peace, uncle Kevan. The only person who could've reigned the Stark boy in was Steffon. Joffrey's done nothing but antagonize him instead. The constant harassment of Dragonstone will have only cemented his belief that we've unofficially declared war on him. You'll have a better chance of drinking from that cup, than bringing Robb Stark to the table now. He's winning, in case you hadn't noticed." He said. Tywin carefully considered his son's words, and came to the realization that they were true. There was something to be said for Joffrey, especially if the boy had indeed threatened Arya Stark like a letter from his daughter had mentioned.

Tywin heard bcikering beginning to break out again. "They have my son!" He thundered. "Get out, all of you. Tyrion, you stay." He said. Tyrion looked surprised. Tywin gestured for him to sit down and poured them wine. "You were right about Steffon. He was the one restraining influence that the Stark boy had left. If the threats Joffrey made are true, then we have little hope of using him as a mediator."

"The rescue attempt-"

"Has brought us nothing more than a temporary reprieve. Yes, Steffon acted rashly and created a good opportunity for us to exploit, but it has also removed any sense of loyalty he felt towards us. Trying to stop the rescue attempt was the stupid part." Tywin said, taking a sip of his wine. Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"How?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"If Ned Stark was alive, we could've used him to broker a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun, and we could've painted Steffon as a proven traitor and sent him up to the Wall. But now, madness. Madness and stupidity. Your sister's fault, mainly." He said. Tyrion came to a startling realization.

"You think that Steffon will declare himself King, don't you?"

"He has nothing to lose. His sense of loyalty to us is gone, the brother of his betrothed is already at war with us, and will no doubt swear loyalty to him, and he has near-total naval superiority." Tywin explained. Tyrion realized his father was right. Even if they spun the rescue attempt to their favor, then it would only likely stop the Arryns from joining the war for him. "Ser Gregor will take 500 riders and light the Riverlands on fire. You will go to King's Landing." He said. That got Tyrion's attention.

"And do what?"

"Rule. I know you sympathize with Steffon to some extent, but you still have loyalty to us. You will got there and serve as Hand of the King in my stead. You will bring that boy to heel and his mother if necessary. And if you hear any whiff of treason from Baelish, Varys, Pycelle-"

"Heads, spikes, walls." Tyrion finished. "But why not uncle Kevan? Why me?"

"You're my son." Tywin said simply.

"But my loyalty to Steffon-"

"Is not as strong as to your family. One more thing. That whore of yours will not be going to court with you."

Steffon again peered at the painted table, now with the proper figures on it. He had called a council, and currently with them were Stannis, Barristan, Lords Bar Emmon, Celtigar, and Dondarrion were present, along with Lord Tarth and Ser Justin Massey. The Table showed the situation as Steffon had anticipated it. The lions were around Harrenhal and Casterly Rock; the direwolves and trouts around Riverrun, and the stags and roses in the Reach.

"I'm impressed, my Prince. You have a deeper strategic understand than most men my age." Tarth said.

"It's only logical. Like said before, regrouping at Harrenhal means he can respond to Robb, Renly or myself." Steffon said. "Robb will need to take advantage of this. Press his attack. The best way to do keep my grandfather on the back foot is striking where it hurts: the gold mines. We take them, there go their revenue sources, and we gain the coin we need to bolster our ranks." He said. The nobles looked at him approvingly, impressed by his grasp of strategy.

"You also need to make a decision regarding Tommen and Myrcella." Stannis said. Steffon shot him a death glare. The two hadn't spoken since the truth was revealed, and even Arya had threatened to gut Stannis like a fish if he brought it up in her presence.

"We'll continue fortifying what we have now. You'll have my decision by nightfall, my lords. Thank you." He said. The nobles begun leaving the room before Steffon gestured for Stannis to stay. "You will not undermine me again, do you understand me, uncle?" He asked, tersely.

"With all due respect, you've been putting it off for too long. You're Robert and Cersei's only legitimate son. The Iron Throne is yours by right."

"I know, I know. I don't want to be King, though."

"What you want doesn't factor into it, Steffon. It is your duty." He said. Steffon nodded stiffly. Deep down, he knew his uncle was right. He was the only blood son of Robert and Cersei, and thus, the Throne fell to him.

"Pardon me, uncle. I must consult with Arya." He said, leaving the room. Minutes later, he arrived at the room that had been set aside for Arya to practice her Water Dance. He entered the room to the sound of wood cracking against wood as Syrio and Arya sparred. Syrio was the first to notice Steffon, and called a halt to th training, announcing they would resume on the morrow.

Steffon and Arya hugged each other tightly before Arya pulled away. "Steffon, what's wrong? You seem troubled." She said. Only know each other for a few months and she can read me like a book, he thought.

"It's war, Arya. Your brother has defeated and captured my uncle Jaime in the Riverlands; my uncle Renly is gathering men in the Reach; my brother is searching for ways to kill me, and . . ."

"And what? Steffon, tell me." She said.

"Stannis is still saying I should claim the kingship." He let out. Arya groaned in exasperation.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. I would claim it, but-"

"But what?" She asked. Steffon sighed and walked to a window. Arya followed, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head against the back of his shoulder.

"I don't want to fight a war over a bloody metal chair. I don't want to see thousands of people killed. I don't want to see millions without homes. I don't want to be King, Arya." He said.

"Steffon, I know you don't, but you are next in line."

"The line of succession didn't matter during my father's rebellion."

"But it matters now! Steffon, your brother is going to get those thousands of people killed. Do you honestly think that Joffrey will be a good king?"

That was the question that got him.

In all honesty, no, he didn't believe it. He had seen enough of his brother's nature to know that he would not be a good ruler. The silence was all Arya needed to know. "My brother will support you, so will my uncle Edmure. Steffon, you're the best hope Westeros has for a bright future. The only way you can help people on the scale you want to help them, Steffon, is by becoming King" She said. Steffon turned around. When he looked in her eyes, all he saw was sincerity. She truly did believe those words. Steffon smiled.

"Okay." He kissed her. "Tonight."

That night, the assembled lords, knights and ladies on Dragonstone assembled in the Great Hall. Steffon stood at the front of the platform at the end of the hall, eschewing the lord's chair. Stannis stood beside him, as did Arya.. At end of the platform, Syrio stood guard. Barristan was at the other end, and Jon took up position in the middle.

"My lords, my ladies, hear me now. I have been . . . shirking my responsibilities. Our country is in grave danger. War now rages across the Riverlands. An illegal war, launched by my grandfather Tywin Lannister, in an attempt to destroy the House of Tully; the house of my betrothed's mother. This cannot be allowed to stand. However, it has also been brought to my attention that my father Robert, apart from myself, sired no natural born children with my mother, Cersei Lannister." He began. Gasps echosed around the Hall. "The children Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, are not legitimate, and thus have no claim to the Iron Throne!" He said. "These are the truths that Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Eddard Stark died for. Does anyone here doubt the honor of these men?" He asked. This time, the nobles stayed silent. Even Stark's enemies from the Rebellion 17 years ago couldn't deny that he was an honorable man. "With these in mind, my lords, my ladies, and good Sers, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. Will you give me your loyalty?" He asked. THe Hall stayed silent, and for a moment, Steffon thought he had failed. Then Lord Tarth stepped forward.

"I knew both Lord Arryn and Lord Stark." He began. "Neither man was known for lying or dishonesty. They would never lie about something of this magnitude." He drew his sword and laid it at Seffon's feet. "My sword is yours, Steffon of the House Baratheon, First of Your Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Ser Justin Massey was next, pledging his loyalty. Soon, all the lords and knights were swearing him their swords. He looked at Arya, who smiled lovingly at him, before drawing Needle and laying it at his feet. "You already know how I feel about this." She said. Next came Stannis, then Syrio and Barristan, and Jon last of all.

I'm the King, Steffon thought. I'm the King.

Robb raised a hand to his head again, and pinched his nose. This conference had bee going on for hours, and they still hadn't decided what their next action would be. Hopefully they could reach a conclusion soon, and all got to sleep. It had been a long day, to say the least. They were still counting the casualties from the battles at the Whispering Wood and the Lannister camps around Riverrun. Hopefully, when Robb got the final report, the wouldn't be too severe.

"The proper course is clear." Lord Jonos Bracken said, for about the millionth time that night. "March south to King Renly and join his forces with ours."

"Renly is not the King." Said Robb. "He's only a brother of Robert, and the youngest one at that. Steffon is the rightful heir."

"But Steffon has not made any claim." Bracken protested. Another argument was beginning to break out when a Northern soldier handed a message to Robb. Robb opened the piece of paper and read it. "My lords, new information has come to light. In front of the Crownlands lords, Steffon laid calim to the Iron Throne. I would ask you to join me in declaring for him."

Another argument threatened to break out, before the Greatjon stepped in. "My lords, my lords! Here is what I say to two of those Kings." He spat on the ground, eliciting laughter from the Northerners. "Renly Baratheon mean nothing to me, and Joffrey the Bastard doesn't neither. We may not like being ruled from the south, but Steffon Baratheon is a different lad altogether. A man who is actually willing to fight and defend those under him; a rarity among his type." He said. Again, the Nrotherners laughed. Some Riverlords looked mildly offended. "And he has a good Northern girl at his side; the daughter of Eddard Stark! A man whose honor is unquestionable. Why shouldn't we follow him?" He asked. Silence. "I'll bend my knee to no King but Steffon Baratheon!" He cried. The Riverlords and Northerners drew their swords.

"Steffon! Steffon! Steffon!" They chanted.

At that moment, the people of the North and Riverlands had their King.