A/N: And I'm back! Life was crazy there for a while, I worked and traveled internationally, then moved back home, and then moved and now I work in NYC. My life is more stable now and should allow me more time to write this fic. I always intended to come back to it, and appreciate those who continue to read it, as well as welcome all the new readers. I appreciate all the wonderful feedback, both positive and negative. Both help me to improve my writing and the story I want to tell.

I chose to skip over some of the events of the show, as well as imply some of them instead of outright showing them. But for all of your info, unless I otherwise changed something within the story, all other events happened just as they did in the show. I've toyed with the idea of showing multiple perspectives, but ultimately I chose not to, as this is Steffon's story to tell. The occasional POV of another character may occur within a chapter though. Also, for those who have played the Telltale GoT game, I am planning to incorporate this into the story as well, since it is considered canon within the HBO GoT world.

And lastly before I get to the story and stop rambling, I have chosen to make a jump in time in this chapter. Some of the past events will be explained, but otherwise assume that events not specifically mentioned or changed occurred the same as the show. I don't want to get bogged down in inconsequential details, or bore you all, so the jump made the most sense. Enjoy the chapter (I most definitely won't be able to continue daily updates forever lol) and feel free to drop me a review!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Game of Thrones. That honor belongs to George RR Martin, HBO, and Telltale Games

"We're well and truly fucked this time, Steff." The young man said, looking at Steffon in a way that showed he was trying to remain light and upbeat, but was losing his optimism fast. Steffon couldn't blame him. Their group was completely surrounded by sellswords. Why Steffon always got dragged into these situations he'd never know, but usually Asher Forrester was to blame.

"Cheer up Asher, think of how many people will live happy lives without being dragged into your problems once we're gone." Steffon said, pointedly looking at Asher with a smirk plastered across his face. This caused a laugh from behind Asher, making him turn with a mock look of betrayal upon his face.

"Beshka! You too?! I thought we meant more to each other than this. But here you are, siding with Steffon the arse." Asher said, sarcastic hurt evident.

Beshka smirked, "I forgot how much my little brother was more like a little sister. Does it wound your pride to know I have bigger balls than you?" This received an eye roll from Asher and a barely contained laugh from Steffon. The three finally remembered the situation they faced and turned to find very confused sellswords standing there looking at them.

Steffon took the moment to break the silence, "Sorry about that, gents. Where were we? Ah yes, I remember now." He said, before moving forward so quickly the closest mercenary didn't even have time to react before he was impaled upon a sword. Steffon pulled his sword free and turned and slashed once, twice, three times, blocking the next mercenary's strikes before relieving him of his head. All hell finally broke loose, as the mercenaries rushed them all. Steffon glanced sideways to see that when he had started the attack Asher and Beshka had done the same, leaving four more dead sellswords. I feel bad for the man who hired these amateurs. He should demand a refund. Steffon thought to himself, as he cut off the sword arm of another mercenary, then turning and hurling a hatchet at another, finding its mark deep in the man's face.

The fighting continued for what felt like hours. Steffon couldn't believe only moments had passed by the time he realized there was nothing left to kill. He glanced around, seeing his friends alive and well, surrounded by dead bodies. Huh. Steffon thought, as he took stock of the 16 dead mercenaries. Wiping off his blade and hatchet before sheathing them, Steffon walked up to his friends.

"That went much better than I expected." He said cheerfully.

"What did you expect?" Asher asked.

"Well I expected about half this many dead mercs, as well as the three of us on the ground dying of mortal wounds or missing limbs and heads." Steffon replied. "I much prefer this outcome." Which earned a chuckle from his companions.

"I'll drink to that. Like now. Away from here." Beshka said, before turning and walking away, not bothering to see if the two men followed her. She knew they did. After a fight like that, getting drunk on shitty ale was the only appropriate response.

Steffon glanced around the city as they walked. Astapor was a beautiful place, so long as you didn't look too hard at it. Kind of reminded him of King's Landing, to be honest. This errant thought brought his mind to a more serious place. Thoughts of his home. One he hadn't seen in almost two years. So much had happened since then, both near and far from him. War had consumed Westeros, with his uncles Stannis and Renly, Robb Stark, and Balon Greyjoy all naming themselves kings and declaring war against his mother and brother, who were backed by his grandfather, Tywin Lannister.

Renly had seemed to have the best odds to Steffon, considering his large army thanks to the backing of the Tyrells, but somehow he was assassinated within his own camp in the night. Rumors blamed it on Brienne of Tarth, Catelyn Stark, and even some claimed is was a shadow made of blood magic in the shape of Stannis himself. Steffon knew not what to believe, other than that he grieved for his dead uncle. Renly may have been many things, but to Steffon he had always been his family.

Robb Stark had been declared King in the North by his bannermen, the Tully's supporting his claim and pledging fealty. He humiliated the Lannisters at the Whispering Woods and Oxcross. But his war engine was stalling. His mother had sown discord between him and some of his bannermen by releasing Jaime Lannister in hopes he would return her daughters. Rumors were Robb had also married a young woman from Volantis, which violated an alliance he had made with the Freys. Meanwhile, news from King's Landing showed his brother Joffrey was a monster. Killing for fun and enjoyment. There were also rumors that every northern victory he took out on Sansa Stark. Sansa was still a captive in the capital, though no longer betrothed to Joffrey due to an alliance with the Tyrells.

This alliance saved King's Landing from being sacked at the hands of Steffon's Uncle Stannis, whose army was shattered and fleet of ships completely destroyed by wildfire. Now Margaery Tyrell was set to become Queen.

But Steffon, being in Essos, wasn't completely removed from the troubles. After hiding out in an estate in Braavos for months, trying to broker support and an army of sellswords to take with him back to Westeros, knowledge of him surviving the attempt on his life finally reached his mother and brother. Assassins tracked him down and nearly killed him in his sleep. Steffon managed to escape, but left everything but his sword. He wandered for a while, poor and hungry, until he had a chance encounter with his current companions, Asher and Beshka. Steffon managed to save their lives, which ultimately won them over and they offered him a spot within their pseudo-family that roamed the land and did odd jobs, usually leading to violence, for coin. Steffon, wary of revealing his identity, told them he was a bastard from Westeros, going by the name Steffon Storm. He learned after a while that Asher was of House Forrester, a northern house loyal to the Starks. He had been banished from his home, something to do with a girl. Steffon did not pry, as that would lead to questions about his own life. Beshka was the biggest mystery though, not revealing anything about her past.

Though Steffon cared deeply for his friends, he had a heavy sorrow growing within him. Each day he remained in Essos was another day his father and Uncle Ned's killers walked free. A part of Steffon liked his new life. Liked leaving that all behind. He felt free of duty for the first time in his life. But then night would come, and he would dream about being betrayed by his mother again, or of Sansa being tortured by his brother. He knew he had to go back. And with this job he finally had the money to do so.

Steffon was pulled from his thoughts as Beshka made a fist and knocked on his head.

"Hello? Anyone home in there?" she said snarkily.

"What?" Steffon said, not even bothering to temper his annoyance.

"We're here. Time to get paid and get drunk. Preferably in that order." Asher said, before striding into the tavern. Beshka and Steffon followed him in. After getting their coin and splitting it between them, Steffon got the first round and they all sat together in the corner. Steffon stared at his cup, lost in thought, before Asher pulled him from it.

"What's wrong, mate? You seem to be anywhere but here right now." Asher asked, doing his best to look unconcerned.

Steffon looked up at him, "Asher, do you ever think about going back to Westeros? Back to Ironrath?"

Asher took a big gulp of his ale, "Sometimes. I think about what my family is doing right now. But there's nothing for me there anymore. Why?"

Steffon sighed, then drank deeply. "I have to go back. There's unsettled business for me there."

Bother Beshka and Asher looked at him, surprise on their faces, before Beshka spoke up, "Why? That shithole is even more shitty these days. What with everyone there claiming to be a king."

"That's exactly why I have to go back." Steffon said. He was nervous to reveal his identity, but trusted these two. The three of them had fought together more times than Steffon could count. Nearly died together many times.

"I haven't been honest with you two about who I am. About why I'm here." Steffon said.

Beshka snorted, "No shit. I knew you were lying the moment you spun your lies. I just figured you had your reasons. I didn't care. You fight well and always had our backs, so that was all that mattered."

Steffon smiled, "Thank you. But it's time you know the truth." Steffon looked around, making sure there was no eavesdroppers about.

"The truth is I'm not a bastard. I'm a trueborn son of Robert Baratheon. The only trueborn child of him, to be honest." Steffon said, earning shocked stares from Asher and Beshka.

"Wait. If that's true, then… of fucking course. Steffon Baratheon. You're the prince. The one who murdered your father." Asher said, proud to have put it all together, before recoiling at the look Steffon gave him.

"I did NOT murder my father. I was framed and almost killed by my mother. Because I found out that my siblings were products of an incestuous affair she had with my Uncle Jaime, her twin brother." Steffon said, fury clear in his voice. Even Beshka barely contained the urge to back away.

Steffon sighed, "I had help in escaping and hid over here, biding my time until it was time to make a move. But I can't sit by anymore while people I care about are killed. It's time I face what's to come and accept whatever the gods have in store for me."

Asher put his hand on Steffon's shoulder, giving him a slight squeeze, "You're one bloody tough fucker. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll make them all pay." Steffon looked at both of them gratefully.

"It's been a real pleasure fighting, and nearly dying, with the both of you. Tomorrow morning I'm heading home." He said. Before downing his ale and going to get another round for them.

The sea air always energized Steffon. Something about being on the water made him feel invincible. Steffon stood on the deck of the merchant ship he booked passage on, bound for Gulltown. From there, Steffon had no idea what to do. Should he travel to Dragonstone and speak with his Uncle Stannis? There were many unknowns with this path. He had heard rumors of the red woman who advised his uncle. She burned alive those who wouldn't convert to her "Lord of Light." Some believed it was her blood magic that killed Renly. Would Stannis be willing to give up his crown with this dangerous woman whispering in his ear?

The other option was to travel west and meet with Robb Stark and his northern lords. Robb and him were close friends during his time at Winterfell. But much had happened since then. Even if they believed he wasn't responsible for the murder of King Robert, there was still a chance they took him prisoner and tried to use him as a hostage against his mother and grandfather. With Renly dead, these were his only two options. Both had risk, but Steffon was tired of avoiding risk and waiting out his enemies. It was time to act.

Weeks of traveling by sea, followed by days of traveling on land. Steffon hated traveling, especially without a horse, and resolved that this would be the last time he did so for a good long while. I could go for a few hours in the wheelhouse like when I was a child about now. Steffon though, as he walked on. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, but he knew he was going the right way.

Luckily, it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. Three men jumped from the trees, weapons drawn and pointed right at him. Steffon put his hands up in surrender, "It's okay, I surrender. I wish to speak with your king. I have some information for him."

Next thing Steffon knew, his hands were bound and a sack was thrown over his head, before the men led him to their camp. They walked for what felt like hours, before Steffon knew they had passed into the camp. There were voices and various noises, such as the scraping of steel on grindstones, all around. Steffon was led forward, and into a tent he assumed, as suddenly the noise was somewhat muffled other than voices in front of him, which died down as they noticed his presence.

"Who is this?" A deep voice demanded.

"We captured this man in the woods, heading in the direction of our camp, my lord. He surrendered immediately and requested to speak with the king." One of the guards next to him said.

"Oh really? And I suppose every wondering prick deserves an audience with the King, does he?" the voice said.

"N-No, my lord, but this man seemed highborn. He spoke like a highborn and carried fine weapons." The other guard holding him said, before letting go and walking forward, presumably to show the man his gear.

"Huh! Would you look at this, men? The prick was wandering around with a sword made of Valyrian steel. Wonder whose body he removed this from." The lord said, earning several chuckles by others in the room. Suddenly the tent flap behind him opened briefly, before a voice interrupted the laughter.

"What's going on here? Who is this?" the voice said, one Steffon recognized immediately.

The laughter stopped before the gruff lord replied, "A prisoner, Your Grace. He wandered near the camp and surrendered to our men. He was carrying a Valyrian steel sword."

A woman spoke next, "Truly? There aren't many of these left in the world. He is either a thief, or someone of note. Remove the hood." She commanded.

The hood was soon ripped from Steffon's head, which he shook before looking around and taking stock of the room. Several faces of northern lords looked at him, some in shock as recognition dawned upon them. Steffon soon focused on the young man and older woman in the center, an unusually large wolf laying at their feet.

Steffon smiled, then bowed his head in greeting, "Hello Robb. Aunt Catelyn. I always hoped I would see you both again."

Robb was the first to break the silence, clearly still stunned by the revelation. "Steffon. I thought- how are you here?"

Steffon looked right at Robb. "Much has happened since I left Winterfell, as you well know. It's a long story, but one I hope you believe."

Steffon stood there, having finished telling Robb, Catelyn, and the northern lords everything. From Ned Stark learning the secret that cost Jon Arryn his life, to Steffon barely escaping his mother's trap with his life, to his time in Essos before returning here. Silence had descended upon them, before Catelyn finally spoke.

"Guard, please cut free his bindings." She commanded, which the guard did immediately, after glancing at Robb who gave a short nod.

Steffon rubbed his wrists, and barely had time to react before small arms enveloped him in a hug. Steffon realized it was Catelyn and sank into her, returning the hug. This woman was more a mother to him than his own. He realized he was on the verge of tears and pulled back, knowing this was not the time to show weakness. Catelyn, on the other hand, hand no qualms as she backed up, with tears freely streaming down her face.

"I'm so happy you are alive, Steffon. Losing Ned was horrible, but losing the both of you was unbearable." She said.

Steffon looked down, afraid to make eye contact. "It pains me to say, but I'm surprised by your words, Aunt Catelyn. A part of me thought that you would blame me when I got here for Uncle Ned's death. Or that you would think me a murderer."

It was Robb who spoke up this time. "Essos has muddled your mind, brother. There's no way we believed you responsible for Robert's death. You loved that man. And you loved my father. We know that if you had been there, you would have done everything you could to try to save him." Robb said, as he stood and walked forward, embracing Steffon as if embracing a long lost brother.

It was one of the northern lords that interrupted their reunion. "Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but this revelation brings up new questions. What are your intentions, boy?" He said, looking right at Steffon.

Catelyn turned on him immediately, "Lord Umber, you forget yourself. This is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Lord Umber nodded his head in apology to Catelyn, "Apologies Lady Catelyn, I mean no offense to the young king. But there is only one king we have all chosen to recognize. And that's Robb, the King in the North." Lord Umber concluded earned agreements from the other lords in the room.

Robb looked about to say something, before Steffon silenced him with his hand on his shoulder. Steffon then turned to face the northern lords.

"My lords, new of King Robb's ascension reached me across the Narrow Sea. The injustice my family, especially my mother and grandfather, have done to you all is great. I understand your eagerness to separate from them. But I am not them. I am Steffon Baratheon, son of Robert Baratheon, First of His Name and rightful King of Westeros. The Starks and Baratheons have long been close friends and allies. This is something I plan to continue. For now, I must ask for your help. My mother and her family are traitors to the crown and have usurped the throne. My siblings, while innocent themselves, are bastards born of incest and have no claim to the throne. I have no army to fight for my father's legacy, which is why I must turn to you. Once again, a Baratheon asks the North for aid in securing these seven kingdoms we call home. But I do so recognizing that much has changed since my father asked Ned Stark this very same question."

Steffon looked to Robb now.

"King Robb, should you aid me in restoring order and taking back the Iron Throne, I will leave the choice of remaining part of a united Westeros in your hands. I hope our alliance will remain strong for all eternity, and I am ready to accept that alliance in any form you can. Either has two kings working for the benefit of their kingdoms, or as the Warden of the North, guarding the largest of our Seven Kingdoms."

Many of the lords, including Robb and his mother, were surprised by Steffon's willingness to accept northern independence. Steffon meant every word. Although he hoped Westeros would choose to stay united, he couldn't deny the northerner the right to choose, considering what he was asking of them. Steffon knelt before Robb, a symbolic gesture that was more powerful than any words he had spoken.

Robb stood and beckoned for Steffon to do the same. They two men who grew up together looked right into each other's eyes. It seemed ages before Robb finally spoke.

"The North remembers many southron kings. Some good. Many bad. Before we can choose whether or not to join your kingdom, we must first measure what kind of king you are. For now, you have the support of the North, King Steffon. Our alliance, regardless of if we are integrated or independent, will stand the test of time. Hail, King Steffon!" Robb shouted, earning many hails from his lords, followed my many "Hail the King in the North," which Steffon joined in on.

Steffon smiled and embraced Robb. He was glad to know that politics had not destroyed what was left of his family. That the Starks still viewed him as one of their own. Now it was up to him to prove if he was a worthy leader for the North. For all of Westeros. Steffon swore there, to his father, to the gods, and to Uncle Ned that he would strive to be. For now, he had an army. Now he had a plan. Casterly Rock was within striking distance. Taking the seat of the Lannisters would humiliate Tywin. It would force the Lannisters to treat with them. It his plan worked, while the Lannisters tried to reclaim their homeland, Steffon would strike, swiftly and mercilessly, at King's Landing. He would take back the Iron Throne. For now, he had much to do.

He turned to Robb, "I need parchment. And we'll need a scribe."

Robb, looking puzzled, replied, "What for?"

Steffon smirked, "It's time to send word to all houses in Westeros. It's time they know that I am alive. And it's time my mother and brother know I'm coming for them."

My fellow lords and ladies of Westeros,

Many of you believed me dead. Many of you were led to believe I betrayed the crown and my king. My father. This is a lie. I loved my father more than anything in this world. He was one of the strongest men I knew. Though he was far past his prime near the end, he was still everything to me. But he and I were betrayed by my mother. The woman I loved most, who I believed loved me as well, betrayed my father by laying with her brother. When Ned Stark and I discovered this, she tried to have us both killed, nearly succeeding with me and unfortunately succeeding with Lord Stark.

I was in a dark place after that. Believing myself abandoned by my own family. I wondered aimlessly in the east, across the Narrow Sea. Until finally, I dreamt of my father. He looked as he did when I was a boy. As he looked when he felled Rhaegar Targaryen with a single blow to the chest. He uttered a single phrase to me, my house's words: Ours is the Fury. I knew then I could not run and cower from those who had betrayed me. I had to return and make them answer for their crimes.

So now, I am back. Allied with Robb Stark, King in the North, and thousands of men from the North and Riverlands, I accuse Tywin Lannister, Joffrey Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, and all those loyal to them of treason against House Baratheon. Of the murder of King Robert, first of his name. Of the wrongful execution of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. And for the burning, raping, and pillaging of the Riverlands. The time has come to answer for your crimes.

Should any surrender willingly, or allies of those named choose to admit their error and pledge to my cause, I shall show them the mercy all true kings should know. But those who continue to support these false lords, ladies, and kings, know that you will face swift justice, and only the gods may show you mercy, for I have none to give you. Our seven kingdoms have suffered long enough. It is time to end this injustice, and to rebuild and heal.

Signed,

Steffon Baratheon,
First of His Name,
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar,
and the First Men
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,
and Protector of the Realm