Chapter 17

King's Landing seemed less welcoming somehow. With the purge of the Stark household in the city, Steffon realised that he would have to tread very, very carefully. This meant taking every single precaution possible. Which included disguising Arya as a boy; something she had not been happy about at all. Right now, she was sitting below the deck; her hair cut short. Steffon was sitting across from her. This only made the situation more awkward because Steffon had been the one to suggest disguising her as a boy in the first place.

"Why are you staring at me, Steffon?" She snapped.

"Um . . . just admiring you, Arya." He responded tentatively.

"No you're not. You're staring at my hair. I hate you for suggesting I go as a boy. Now I look even uglier than I did before."

"Arya, how many times must I say it? You're not ugly at all. I happen to think the exact opposite; you're absolutely stunning, Arya." He said tenderly. Arya's face softened slightly.

"I'm still not happy about this." She said.

"I wouldn't expect anything else, Wolf Girl." Steffon responded, heading up onto the deck. Arya stuck her tongue out at him, to which he laughed. Jon then walked down.

"Steffon, it's time." He said simply. Steffon nodded.

"I'll be up there shortly Jon." He replied before Jon headed back up. He turned to Arya. "Now, you remember your cover story?"

"Yes, yes. My name is Arry and I'm Ser Davos Seaworth's youngest son." She replied.

"Arya, you understand this is for your own good, right?"

"I know, I know. I just don't like it." She responded. The two then kissed; their last one while they were in King's Landing.

As they disembarked, they were welcomed by Janos Slynt and the Goldcloaks. Fucking traitors, Steffon thought.

"Afternoon, Lord Slynt. Forgive me, I'd have thought my brother Joffrey, mother or uncle Jaime would've greeted me." Steffon said.

"The King and Dowager Queen have much business to attend to. Your uncle was taken prisoner by the traitorous Robb Stark not that long ago." Slynt replied. Now that got their attention. Robb Stark had marched south? The boy has more guts than I imagined, thought Stannis. And if he had beaten Jaime Lannister, that meant he had outsmarted Tywin Lannister somehow. It was now imperative that they rescue Ned Stark; if for nothing else, it would win them good favour with the Northerners. "Both have requested private meetings with you, My Prince. Whom will you go to first?" Slynt asked.

"My brother I think. I must speak with him." Steffon answered. Slynt nodded, and led the group off. The Goldcloaks were watching them, nervously gripping the hilts of their swords, further solidifying Stannis' belief that they weren't soldiers. They hadn't even bothered to loosen their blades in case of trouble.

Soon enough, Steffon found himself alone with Joffrey in his brother's private solar. This used to be father's he thought solemnly.

"Brother, I am happy you've returned!" Joffrey exclaimed, smiling. Steffon was easily able to point it out as fake.

"Let's cut to the chase, Joffrey. We've never liked each other, and we probably never will. Why did you ask me here?" He asked sternly. Joffrey's fake smile devolved into a frown after that.

"Brother, our enemies are arrayed heavily against us. The Tullys and Starks oppose us-"

"Correction, Joffrey, they oppose you. I'm to marry one of them soon." Steffon interrupted.

"As I was saying, traitors oppose my rule with force. I'm going to need men I can trust at my side." Joffrey said. Steffon raised an eyebrow.

"Are you offering me a command, Joffrey?" He asked. Joffrey nodded.

"Command over the forces opposing Renly. In exchange of course, for your oath of fealty." Joffrey said, smirking.

"And what do you plan to do with Lord Stark?" Asked Steffon.

"He's a traitor. Traitors must be dealt with." Joffrey replied, shrugging his shoulders. "And there's only one punishment for treason." Steffon's eyes widened at that.

"Lord Stark was only doing what he thought was right, Joffrey."

"HE IS A TRAITOR!" Roared his brother. "LOWER THAN A DOG!"

"Watch yourself, Joffrey. I'm to marry his daughter soon."

"I don't care! She's more valuable to me as a hostage than she is to you as a wife!" Joffrey shouted.

"Joffrey I'm warning you . . ."

"That little cunt will get what's coming to her." Joffrey said. Steffon threw a powerful punch, connecting with Joffrey's stomach. "I could have you executed for that." Joffrey wheezed.

"You can fucking try, you little shit, but I will never, ever see Arya in chains. Not your chains; not mother's and certainly not grandfather's. She is to be my wife. If you lay a finger on her, you lose that finger." Steffon threatened, before leaving. No-one, not even his own blood, talked about Arya that way.

"So, how did it go?" Asked Jon, who had been standing guard with Meryn Trant outside the door.

"He offered me a bloody command." Steffon said. Jon scoffed.

"Really?"

"Yes, Jon, really. He offered me command of the forces opposing Renly. I rejected him outright, of course." Jon breathed a sigh of relief at that as Steffon headed towards the meeting with his mother, in her private solar. When he arrived, his mother was looking out over the port of King's Landing. Steffon's ship, the Young Stag, was still docked, with a small group of Stannis' soldiers standing guard around it. Steffon had refused to allow the Goldcloaks to stand guard; he didn't trust them with Slynt at their helm.

"Beautiful, isn't it Steffon?" She asked, turning around; a goblet of wine in her hand.

"Yes mother. Why did you ask me here?"

"You never were one for small talk, my son. I'm sure Joff told you of his offer."

"Yes, and I rejected him. He wants to execute Lord Stark and make Arya a hostage. Do you honestly think I would consent to that?" Steffon asked. Cersei looked down, swirling her wine.

"He would never execute Lord Stark or make a hostage out of your betrothed."

"He seemed to imply that he would void our betrothal. Make me into one of his bargaining chips."

"Well let's be honest, the Stark girl is no great beauty, Steffon. Margaery Tyrell on the other hand . . ." She trailed off when she saw the look on Steffon's face. Despite what everyone thought of her, she dearly cared for Steffon.

"I will do us both a favour and pretend this meeting never happened. Good day, mother." He said, leaving the solar with Jon. As the two walked down the passages back to the courtyard of the Red Keep, they found themselves accosted by a squad of Lannister guardsmen.

"Prince Steffon, you are under arrest for assaulting the King!" One of them called. Jon thumbed his sword out slightly, making it looser in the scabbard and easier to draw.

"Wait a moment." Steffon said. The guardsmen in question grew angry at Steffon not using 'Ser' to address him. "Where is a Kingsguard? Shouldn't there be one with you? After all, you're not exactly the brightest spark around, are you?" Steffon said. Damien was growing angrier by the second. His hand went to his sword.

"King Joffrey said we had to bring you back. He didn't say that you had to be alive." Said the guardsman. As if on cue, the others drew their swords. Jon and Steffon looked at each other, before doing the same. Two of the guardsmen charged them head on. Big mistake. Jon simply sidestepped before slashing the back of his opponent's neck, while Steffon parried his opponent's blow before delivering a straight punch to the throat, followed up with a thrust through the throat. "Kill them!" shouted the leader, charging forward with the two other guardsmen. It was all too predictable. One guardsman dived directly for the Prince, while the other two took on Jon, who the Bastard of Winterfell easily defeated. Steffon parried a strike before slamming the pommel into his head and signalled to Jon for them to move.

Stannis, Davos, Barristan, Syrio and Arya were standing in the near-empty courtyard. Steffon had been inside for some time now. Who knew that meetings could go on this long? Suddenly, they were interrupted by Jon and Steffon charging into the courtyard with bloodied swords.

"We have to accelerate the plan to now. Davos, you and Barristan go and free Lord Stark. The rest of us will keep our way out clear. Go!" He shouted. Davos and Barristan raced off in the direction of the Black Cells while the others drew their swords.

"Get behind me, Arya." Said Steffon.

"If you gave me a weapon, I could help you fight!" She exclaimed.

"No, Arya." Steffon said sternly. Arya suddenly got behind him. Soon, Goldcloaks and Lannister soldiers were pouring into the courtyard. Thankfully, they were prepared. While Steffon, Jon, Davos and Stannis used their own techniques, Barristan and Syrio showed their mastery of the sword. Barristan expertly deflected blows from two Goldcloaks before killing them both, while Syrio used all of his expertise in the Water Dance to great effect, as the guardsmen and Goldcloaks were unused to the fighting style, as Ghost tacked one of the soldiers and tore his throat out. As the last of their attackers fell, Steffon turned to the two master swordsmen. "Syrio, Barristan, come with me! We have to rescue Lord Stark!"

"We're with you, my Prince!" Shouted Barristan. Normally, getting to the Black Cells would take some time, but Steffon, with his knowledge of the Red Keep, was able to get them to the Cells. After managing to convince the somewhat half-witted gaoler that he was there to bring Eddard Stark out for execution, the man led them to the Black Cells. Steffon had been down here once or twice and absolutely hated it. The stench, the lack of light; these things and more got to him every time he came here.

" 'ere it is. Lord Stark's cell. I'lls just open the doors for ya." Said the gaoler. He did so, and Steffon turned to him.

"Thank you. Now for your reward, my good man." Said Steffon, turning briefly. Quickly, Steffon drew his dagger and drove it into the man's stomach, before pulling it out and sheathing it. "He would've given us away the first chance he got." Steffon said coldly. Barristan and Syrio shared looks of shock at the boy's lack of hesitation at killing.

"Prince Steffon, is that you?" Came a weary voice.

"Lord Stark! Yes it's me, my Lord. We're getting you out of here. Barristan, help him." Steffon ordered. With Barristan aiding Ned's movement, Syrio and Steffon stayed slightly ahead, making sure that they wouldn't get surprised. Soon enough, they surfaced.

"Prince Steffon, they are closing!" Syrio shouted as a squad of Goldcloaks approached. This time however, they were charging at full pelt. One of them crashed into Steffon, knocking him to the ground. The man stood over Steffon, ready to bring his sword down. Again, Steffon braced for the worst, only to hear a scream of pain from the Goldcloak and seeing a sword protruding from his chest. The Goldcloak fell to the side to reveal none other than Eddard Stark. Using a cudgel as an improvised cane, Stark was swinging his sword one-handed. Steffon had to admire the man's courage; his mental toughness, his ability to push through the no doubt searing pain. Soon, the Goldcloaks lay dead and they regrouped with Stannis, Jon, Davos and Arya.

"C'mon, we have to go!" Shouted Jon. They started fleeing, only to be ambushed by more Goldcloaks. Steffon deflected a blow from one and slashed him across the chest, before thrusting his sword through another. However, he was too focused on the close fighting to notice that one Goldcloak that was carrying a crossbow was aiming at him.

Eddard Stark didn't.

As quickly as he could manage, the Quiet Wolf shoved Steffon onto the ground just as the crossbowman loosed. The bolt lodged deep inside Ned's chest, sending him to the ground. Steffon finally noticed the crossbowman and charged him, knocking him to the ground. The boy quickly thrust his sword downwards. Finally, they were clear. he quickly rushed back to the group to see Eddard Stark lying on the ground, crossbow bolt protruding form a heavily bleeding wound.

"Arya, you listen to me." Said the dying Lord of Winterfell.

"Yes, father." said a crying Arya.

"You stay with Prince Steffon. He's a good man; he'll defend you with his life. You understand me?" He asked. Arya tearfully nodded. "And you, my Prince," he began, turning to Steffon, "You stay with my daughter no matter what, okay?"

"Yes, my Lord. Like you said, I'll give my life for hers if needs be." Steffon replied.

"Thank you. Stannis." He said. The Lord of Dragonstone bent down to the dying Northerner. Ned slapped a piece of paper into Stannis' hand. "It's true." He said. "Now go, all of you." No-one moved. "GO, DAMN YOU!" He shouted. Arya tearfully refused to leave, forcing Steffon and Syrion to drag her away.

"Good luck to you all." Ned muttered. Then the darkness enveloped him.

And I'll end it there. So, bit of a botched attempt really, wasn't it? And Steffon botched it himself no less. If only he'd been a bit more restrained . . . oh well. By the way, that scene of him punching Joffrey-it wasn't even planned. I just wrote it on the suggestion of a friend, who said it could be chalked up to Arya's influence.

Anyway, soon we will be getting into the major battles that Steffon will fight; his political wars with those who nominally support him; and the theological debate currently infesting Dragonstone: The Faith of the Seven vs. Melisandre's Lord of Light.

Auf wiedersehen!