Chapter 25

So, another chapter. I'm trying to update as rapidly as possible for a while

"Well, that could've gone better." Steffon said as he and Arya made their way to the basic tent that had been set up for them.

"Where does get the nerve to demand you break our betrothal?!" Arya shouted, still peeved off.

"He's Renly Baratheon." Steffon shrugged as they arrived at their tent. He opened the flap and followed Arya in. "Renly's always bought into the romance of ruling. And of war, it seems."

"But why did he demand our betrothal being broken?"

"Because he offered me the entire Tyrell army. 100,000 men. He thought bringing the numbers of both their army and the forces of a united Stormlands would persuade me."

"But you never considered it?" Arya asked

"Not even for a second." Steffon replied. "Your brother would have me strung up by my thumbs if I did." He added. He sat down on the cot that had been set up inside the tent. "Not to mention it would cut a major strategic advantage." He continued. Arya kept pressing him though. Surely there was more than that.

"And?"

"Do you really need me to say it, Wolf Girl?" He asked.

"Yes, Stag Boy."

"Alright. A lot of the reason is that I love you. I love you a lot, Arya, but if I said that, i'd be laughed at more. I think I endured enough humiliation when I announced my reforms to them."

"They were quite rude." Arya said.

"It's the response I expected, to be sure." Steffon snorted. He took Arya's hand as she sat down next to him.

"What did you think of Lady Margaery?" She asked suddenly. One look at her and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get away with dodging the question.

"Well, I would be lying if I said she wasn't beautiful. As well as the fact that she's everything a noble lady should be." He said carefully. Arya turned away. "But that's exactly why I wouldn't be able to bear marrying her." He quickly added. "What I like most about you Arya is that you're the exact opposite of that. If I were to marry a 'proper lady' like her, I'd be bored. Arya, I love that you're not that. It's the best thing about you." He continued. Arya turned back to him, a smile breaking out on her face.

"That means a lot, Steffon." She replied, hugging him tightly. They broke the hug a minute later and joined their lips, melding together gently. It wasn't rushed or frenzied; just passionate. "So what now?" She asked as they broke apart.

"I mean what I said. We ride for Storm's End in the morning and ready for battle. We'll be outnumbered badly, but we can win. I know we can." He said resolutely.

"You seem optimistic."

"Accomplishing something starts with the belief that you can accomplish it."

"You said he would agree!" Lord Tyrell raged.

"Clearly I expected him to." Renly replied tiredly. He'd be listening to oafish Lord of Highgarden get angrier and angrier for the last hour.

"And that was your problem! You fell victim to your own hubris! Denied by a mere child-"

"There is nothing 'mere' about that child, Lord Tyrell." Renly shot back. "Steffon is stubborn, much like Robert and Stannis, but he's pragmatic enough to know we're offering him the Iron Throne. He won't turn that down, what man would?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to be King." Randyll Tarly, who had since arrived, offered.

"That's an absurd notion, Randyll." Lord Tyrell said. "The boy is 15; why wouldn't he want to be King?"

"Maybe he's seen how being King makes one several enemies. Perhaps he doesn't think himself capable. Either way, we may have a new enemy, and right on our doorstep."

"We have the numbers, do we not, Lord Tarly?" Renly asked.

"Numbers are not the only factor in war. Do not forget that he spent years with the military tutelage of both Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon. He has an array of skilled subordinates and near-total naval supremacy."

"Wait!" Loras said, creating a sudden silence. "Is it possible for Margaery to . . . well, seduce your nephew?" He inquired. Renly furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"Steffon has nowhere near the fondness for women that Robert did, but there is little harm in trying." He said. "With luck, it might convince him to let go fo these little notions of honour he has." He added. Lord Tyrell's eyes lit up.

"I shall fetch Margaery then."

"Tell her to be careful about this. The Stark girl is liable to lop off her head!" Loras said. They all had a good laugh at that.

Steffon was now alone in the tent, reading something on military theory that had been written decades ago by one Maester or another. At this point, he had about a hundred of the damn books in one place or another. They all said basically the same thing; but it was useful to read through all of them, even if it was just to try and extrapolate on the ideas presented. Arya was busy practicing her Water Dancing with Syrio.

A soldier opened the flap of the tent. "Your Grace, Lady Margaery is here."

"Lady Margaery?" Steffon asked, puzzled. Why would Margaery be coming to visit him? "Well send her in then." He said. Margaery Tyrell stepped into the tent, wearing a dress that accentuated her figure.

"Your Grace." She said, curtseying. "I came to apologise for my brother and father earlier. They did not show you the respect a man of your station deserves."

"One must expect such things, my Lady. I pride myself on being forward-thinking."

"Indeed, Your Grace. I must ask; what inspired these beliefs of yours?"

"I'm not certain." Steffon said. He thought a moment. "I guess it was several factors put together. My uncle Stannis believes that advancement should be based solely on how good a person is at their job, not their birth. My Uncle Tyrion educated me greatly about the poor and the pitiful hands they're dealt. I guess the Gods were another; they made us in their image and we have no right to go against that." he explained.

"That is true nobility, Your Grace." She said, slowly walking to him, her hips swaying. "True nobility is very hard to find."

"My Lady, you flatter me, but I have no need for idle flattery. I mean no disrespect." Steffon replied.

"Of course not, Your Grace. You must work so hard." She said seductively. She walked closer to him and all of a sudden, Steffon realised what she was doing.

"My Lady, I really think you should go." He said, gently pushing her away.

"Your Grace, I-"

"Steffon's right." A third voice said. The two looked to the entrance of the tent to see Arya standing there and looking distinctly unimpressed. "You should go."

"Lady Arya, i-"

"Go. Now." Arya said threateningly, her hand closing around Needle's hilt. Margaery hurriedly curtseyed again before leaving. "Looks like I got here just in time." Arya added.

"You did, Wolf Girl. Thank you."

"You know she was trying to seduce you, right?"

"I'm not a dullard, Arya."

"Hmm . . I'd have to think about that." She said, walking towards him and taking her sword belt off. "It's a good thing it didn't go up, because I would've had to cut it off." She added. Steffon went bright red.

"Well, it's a g-good thing that didn't happen then." He stuttered as Arya pressed herself against him. She kissed him deeply, the pattern becoming established until she broke off and started kissing his neck. Steffon's breathing got heavier until suddenly, Arya pulled away, smirking.

"Tomorrow maybe. Not tonight."

"You evil, evil girl." Steffon laughed.

Again, not happy with this chapter.