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Winterfell, 9/9/301 AC

Wynafryd and Sansa Stark were seen in the Great Hall, overseeing the last preparations for the impending visit of the royal party, whilst Lady Catelyn was standing in the distance, overseeing and evaluating their performance.

"We need to make sure to have placed enough candles in Lord Tyrion’s chamber. He tends to read all night." Wynafryd Stark said. The brown-haired young Lady was still a bit uncomfortable with stepping in Lady Catelyn’s shoes, but the Stark matriarch was only a few steps away in order to provide support. This was only a training exercise.

"We sure did, Wynafryd. I personally saw to it that Uncle Tyrion will have everything he needs." Sansa answered.

Catelyn frowned a little to her daughter’s remark. She didn’t like it much that her children view the Lannisters as kin. Then again, Tyrion lived at Winterfell for years and he was indeed a smart, kind and loyal person that all of the Starks grew very fond of. The North benefited a lot thanks to his ingenuity and proper council. And for Jaime Lannister, he proved his valor as a true knight and was serving his people well and loyally. Catelyn could respect that at least.

"Yes, Sansa. I know you would. You are his favorite pupil, after all." The Lady of Winterfell replied with a smile. Sansa smiled back. During his visits to Winterfell, Tyrion got to teach the Stark children about Court Intrigue and Politics. Sansa grew to be his most gifted pupil. The lessons her uncle, mother and father had given her taught her that the world isn’t the nice place the songs and fairytales were describing. Instead, the world is a place full off lies, treachery, ambition and selfishness. Either you learn to how to protect yourself and your loved ones or you just sit by and let your opponents trample you. And Sansa was determined to never let anyone trample the Starks or the North ever again.

At the same time Robb, Theon, Jon, Edric and Bran were getting themselves trimmed. Robb was really glad to see his best friend, Theon, once more, as the 22 year old Greyjoy had gotten himself firmly settled at White Harbor with his wife Wylla, after their marriage. Granted, Theon and Wylla would be paying Winterfell regular visits for the annual Harvest feast or for other important occasions. But Robb was still missing the old times, when he, Theon, Jon, Domeric and the others were just running around Winterfell without a single care in the world. Getting in Gods know what kind of mischief, riding, hunting, and fighting.

"Ouch!" Bran’s cry broke Robb from his memories. Time to focus on the present once more.
"Will shaving’s going to hurt so much from now on?" Bran asked. It was the first time he ever got to shave and he had just cut himself above the upper lip.

"If you had bothered to stay still, that wouldn’t have happened." Robb scolded his younger brother. He never had much of an issue on that matter. He had adopted a well-trimmed beard as his personal facial style, like his dad and uncle Benjen. Not even Theon and Jon could understand Bran’s predicament, since they had taken years of practice in clean-shaving.

"Why is Aunt Catelyn so adamant in getting us pretty for the Princes?" Jon asked.

"You know how Lady Stark is, Jon. She will follow protocol, even on death’s threat." Theon said. "You must be happy that you’ll get to see your cousins again." The young Greyjoy continued.

"Aye. It’s been 9 years since I last saw Steffon and Aemon. We kept correspondence, but it’s not the same." Robb said.

This, indeed wasn’t the first time Crown Prince Steffon and Prince Aemon had visited Winterfell. 9 years ago, they, King Argilac and Lord Orys Baratheon had come to the North, so that they can inspect the Wall and see to the Northerner’s issues. Robb had liked his cousins from the start. They were friendly, well-mannered and they knew how to wield a sword quite well for their age. Then again, they were training under Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold. A man who is considered the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps only second to Ser Arthur Dayne. Robb could hardly wait to see his cousin and get himself a rematch.

"Last I heard, Steffon and Aemon have made quite a name for themselves during these last 9 years. They truly sound like the kind of Princes people would love to follow." Jon said.

"Yes. I heard they were put into Council meetings ever since he was 10. Just like all of their siblings and cousins. Steffon also conducted the battle plans on which the conquest of the Stepstones was based upon." Edric Dayne said.

"That operation took place a year ago. And I remember that you had asked permission to join your father and uncles, Theon." Bran said.

"Aye. Good thing I did, it was a brutal fight. But the results speak for themselves. Now, the Stepstones are once again firm Westerosi property. Under the fit management of House Greyjoy of course." Theon said smugly, causing Jon to roll his eyes in amusement, before Robb smacks Theon’s right arm playfully.

"My only regret is that neither me nor Robb could be with our Princes and see them in action. Luckily for you, pups, I asked around. They were absolute beasts in combat. I don’t know what Selmy has taught them, but what I heard makes me wonder how they’ve turned out now that they have more experience." Theon concluded.

"We’ll have to see. I look forward in testing our cousins’ strength in the training yard." Robb said.

"We’ll have our chance. Friendly sparring is a common practice during the Harvest Feasts." Jon said, not less eager.

"Indeed, Jon. But for now…Tommy, go on. See to our Jon’s hair. He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair." Robb teased his cousin as he was turning him over to the barber.

By the Gods, Winterfell was indeed something to behold! Sure it may lack in grace, even after the renovation Lady Catelyn had oversaw, but only the Eyrie, Storm’s End and Casterly Rock could rival it in size and defenses. Two massive series of granite walls were protecting the Stark stronghold. And from up close, the walls seemed even taller and thicker when compared to what Crown Prince Steffon Baratheon had read in his history lessons. He could even see the Broken Tower restored to its former brilliance.

As for Winter Town, the city located at Winterfell’s main gatehouse, was bustling with traders, craftsmen and customers. Goods from all over the North were gathered here for selling or to be sent down the White Knife River to White Harbor for exporting. And as a testament to Uncle Ned’s reforms, Winter Town was now a city that was receiving visitors, traders and customers all year-round, instead of just during the summer.

"Gods, we’re finally here!" Prince Aemon Baratheon, son of Orys Baratheon and Cersei Lannister groaned.
"How do these fuckers even live here? How don’t get their ears or their balls frozen off?"

"Are you feeling cold during this sweet summer day, beloved nephew? Wait until winter comes." Tyrion Lannister said amused.

"I assume you know better than us, uncle. After all, you spent so much time in the North that you seem like a Northerner in the make." Aemon teased back.

"Yes. It’s been a remarkable duration here. 3 years so that I can update the maps of the North. I went to every corner of this region. I can say with certainty that apart from the most good looking and well educated, I am also the best-travelled dwarf in the world." Tyrion declared proudly.

Steffon and Aemon rolled their eyes amused. Their uncle, Tyrion, always had a way to boast about his accomplishments. But he had indeed some truly remarkable accomplishments under his belt: his sewers, his soap, his concrete, his negotiation skills. The very saddle he was sitting on was his own invention: one that was allowing the rider to command their horse without the usage of his/her legs. It’s a revolutionary invention: with it, even people who happened to born without the ability to use their legs, or happened to lose said ability, could now ride horses and even receive training in mounted warfare. Even dwarves could benefit from this saddle. Of course, for the trick to work, you need a horse that was never trained in heeding commands through its rider’s legs, but that’s something that can be arranged.

"You must feel quite proud for having to deal with these people, uncle. They do strike out as ferocious." Aemon said in reference to the Vale Mountain Clans, settled in the lands of the New Gift.

"Ferocious you say, nephew? Oh, I'll tell you ferocious: once we had them pilled on the boats to bring them here, a Moon Brother stabbed a Stone Crow over a sausage. Three Stone Crows seized the Moon Brother and opened his throat. Benjen managed to keep Shagga from chopping off the dead man’s cock, which was fortunate, but even still, Ulf demanded blood money which Shagga refused to pay. It was indeed a very…entertaining voyage."

"And sure you have many other stories just as exciting. But let us concentrate on the task at hand." Crown Prince Steffon said, bringing the group back to the present.

The gate of Winterfell was lifted so that the royal party consisting of the two royal cousins, their Lannister uncle, Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold and twenty guards to enter the castle. At the courtyard, Steffon could see the Stark family lined up to greet them. Behind them, their vassals and their courtiers. The two lads descended on the ground gracefully and helped their uncle dismount as well. Then, they approached the Starks who had knelt as a gesture of respect. Steffon stood above Lord Eddard Stark and gestured with his hand for him to get up.

"Your Highness." Lord Eddard greeted respectfully.

"Lord Stark. It’s an honor to be in your castle and a great joy to be among family." Steffon greeted his host and uncle with a handshake.
"I swear that for as long as my party stays at Winterfell, no dishonor shall befall House Stark."

Lord Eddard nodded satisfied to hear that his nephew remembers his manners. Steffon then proceeded to greet his aunt, Lady Catelyn, who stood at her husband’s left.

"Lady Catelyn. It’s been 9 years, but it seems that not a single day has passed over you. It’s a pleasure to see you again."

"And I am glad to see you too, my Prince. You’re looking well." Lady Catelyn said with a smile, before she hugs her nephew.

Steffon hugged back. Close contact with family was something that always brought him great joy and comfort. He was glad to see his relatives. He then left Aemon greet Lord and Lady Stark as he was making his way to the Stark children. His first stop was Robb on his father’s right.

"It’s been a while, Robb. But I am glad to see you again."

"Me too, Cousin. Me too." Robb replied as he was exchanging a handshake with the Crown Prince.

"Nice grip you’ve got there. I see you’ve been training. Is that right?"

"You bet I did."

"Then we must test that strength in the training yard. I believe a sparring match is in order..." The Crown Prince said pleased as he was letting go of Robb’s hand.

"I am sure you’ll have the opportunity to test your mettle during the tournament during the upcoming Harvest Feast. You and Cousin Aemon are of course more than welcome to participate."

Steffon nodded satisfied. He then moved to Sansa. He kissed her hand, as a gesture of respect.

"Lady Sansa. You’re looking more and more like your mother. I hope that you haven’t forgotten your Northern heritage though."

Sansa smiled, flattered at the Prince’s compliment. She looked at her mother and smiled again. She always considered it a compliment to be compared to her. And then she stared at her cousin with a burning passion.

"Never."

Glad with what he heard, Steffon made his way to Arya.

"Arya. Looks like you’re well on your way in becoming a proper She-Wolf. Just like Aunt Lyanna."

Instead of smiling at this casual and friendly remark, as Steffon was expecting, Arya’s face frowned with suspicion.

"How do you know about my aunt, Lyanna? And why do you call her 'Aunt Lyanna'? She wasn’t your aunt."

"Arya. Steffon was just trying to be friendly." Sansa tried to intervene, hoping that to calm her sister down, before the matter gets out of hand. But Arya was having none of it.

"Well nobody asked him to! He can throw his Southern fake smiles and friendly gestures to someone who actually buys that crap!"

Steffon frowned. He never liked being disrespected and he wasn't going to let that slight go unpunished.

"it’s something called correspondence, girl." He said in a more frigid tone. "Our parents have been writing to each other for years. Also, both my mother and uncle Orys had met Lyanna. So, stop laying charges at things you don’t understand."

Arya didn’t respond. She just stared at Steffon with a hostility she was barely trying to disguise. Steffon and Robert didn’t waste any more time on her. They greeted their other two cousins Bran and Rickon and then moved on back to Lord and Lady Stark. His friendly approach was gone from his features. Now, he was talking as a Prince.

"I bring a message from the King, Lord Stark." He said formally.

"Then let us go to my solar so that we can discuss it." Lord Eddard offered.

Steffon and Aemon sat on the opposite side of their uncle and aunt. Now, both Ned and Catelyn could see their nephews better. At the age of 19, Steffon was tall, clean-shaved, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He had his father’s black hair and sky blue eyes. His Baratheon origin was also visible by the golden crowned stag that had been drew on the black breastplate of his armor. Catelyn, however, could also see her sister in her nephew. He had her courtly manners and her kind smile, who was reaching his eyes the exact same way it was reaching Lysa’s.

By the looks of it and from what she’s been hearing, Steffon has certainly grown into a fine man. Catelyn was still remembering the day a 10 year old Steffon, his father, Lord Orys and his son visited the North during one of their peregrinations. Much like Robb, Catelyn and Ned liked the boy almost instantly. Steffon knew his manners, he was getting along well with all of his cousins and he was fairly interested in the North and its issues. He and Robb were always close to their fathers whenever they were discussing something of the sort. Because of that, as well as the liking Steffon had taken specifically on Robb, the two boys had started a correspondence once Steffon and his family returned to King’s Landing. Now, as a man grown, Steffon was looking like an accomplished warrior. Years of fighting and drilling soldiers had made Ned keen on calculating a person’s martial prowess. Then again, Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold had been Steffon’s personal teacher and had knighted him, at the age of 18. After he had earned his spurs by proving his skill and valor in the conquest of the Stepstones.

As for Aemon, at 17, he was still far from the man the famous Targaryen Crown Prince had been. But he was handsome, fit and was carrying himself with confidence. While the Starks didn’t know him as well as they did Steffon and were more reserved around him, due to the uneasiness they had around his father, he did look like a good, promising lad. Of almost the same renown as the Crown Prince himself.

"My sister certainly made sure to keep us updated on your development and accomplishments, boys." Catelyn said to her nephews.

"Well, I certainly hope that Her Grace had only good things to say." Aemon said with a small laugh. Earning himself a chuckle from Catelyn.

"Certainly." The Stark matriarch said, now more at ease around the lad.
"She was delighted when you had started attending Council meetings when each of you and your siblings/cousins had turned 10. But certainly you gave her the scare of her life when His Grace took you in the Conquest of the Stepstones. I certainly had mine when Ned joined the war effort with 35,000 men, Robb and Jon."

"I won’t lie to you, Aunt Catelyn. It was a brutal fight." Steffon said. "But it was something that had to be done. The Tyroshi slavers were a real thorn to our side. Even though the Royal Navy under Uncle Stannis pushed them back time and time again, even after the clearings that were made there over the years, the pirates and the slavers just kept on returning. Well, the final straw had been spilled after Tyrosh refused to aid in the clearing. Seeing that Tyrosh is not going to help, His Grace decided to take matters into his own hands. Westeros would annex the Stepstones and set a permanent naval base there to act as a lookout for pirates and slavers. The pirates fought bravely. I’ll give them that. But they were unorganized, unfocused and outnumbered. Eventually, the Stepstones were clenched and the pirates, as well as the slavers who survived the battle and got captured, were sent to the Wall."

"And it was your plan based on which these operations were conducted." Ned said. He had seen the lad in action in the war council. How thoroughly and assertively he was explaining his plans, answering questions or offering solutions. King Argilac had indeed raise his heir well.

"Yes. His Grace honored me with his trust, by commanding me to conduct the battle plans. Taking inspiration from Uncle Stannis’ attack on Dragonstone 19 years ago, I had the fleet surround the islands during the night, while keeping the ships hidden from the watchmen on the shore. I waited until dawn and then I launched an attack that got the defenders completely by surprise. Tyrosh protested heavily against the annexation but the results speak for themselves.
Now, the Stepstones are firm Westerosi property. And as a reward for their contribution, the Stepstones were given to the Ironborn. Aeron Greyjoy was given Bloodstone as his own feud and he was appointed their liege lord. With Maron Greyjoy becoming the region’s head treasurer. Finally, a permanent base for the Royal Navy has been built there to ensure the safety of the various ships that come through that passage."

"You seem…proud for your accomplishments, lad." Ned said with a neutral voice.

"Content would be a more accurate word to describe my current emotional state, uncle. After all, His Grace honored me by asking me to arrange the status quo of the newly added domain. And afterwards, he didn’t deem it necessary to correct anything. That tells me that the lessons he and my other tutors were so generous to offer me were put to good use and in the service of the Realm and its people." Steffon replied in a humble tone.

Ned and Catelyn exchanged a glance. Both of them had a spark of pride in their eyes. They were now certain that the Crown Prince of Westeros was raised properly and that if he keeps walking this path, Westeros will be in good hands once he ascends to the Iron Throne.

"Well, that was indeed a fine display of the Westerosi might. But for now, as much as dwelling on past glories is good for the heart, I think it’s time we concentrate on the present. I’d like to ask you to forgive Arya. She’s a little too attached to whatever she thinks hers and views intruders with hostility." Catelyn said, regarding the incident in the yard.

Aemon snorted in laughter.

"Fear nothing of it, Aunt Catelyn. Your daughter is not that much different from my Lady Mother, Lady Cersei. She’s a real lioness guarding her pride. If she doesn’t feel like you belong here, she’ll kill you with nothing more than her staring."

"How did you find the situation at the Wall?" Ned asked.

"Supplies and men keep on coming regularly. From what Lord Commander Mormont has told us, the Wall is once more to its glory days. All of its nineteen castles stand in good shape, properly manned and well-supplied. He even told us about a method of training, you’ve started to employ ever since the Wall had sufficed workforce. Roughly 9 years ago."

"Yes, Prince Steffon. Since most of the people who join the Night’s Watch have never wielded a weapon before, I decided to tackle that problem. We now have the numbers, so we ought to invest in quality. Moat Cailin has become the training yard of the Night’s Watch. Before they get sent off to the Wall, the criminals and the volunteers who come from the South, stop by the Moat to attend training at arms. Derren Stark oversees the training, as the Moat’s castellan. And one day, that task will be passed on to your cousin, Bran."

"I am sure that he’ll do just fine, my Lord. The boy does have that spark in his eyes, saying that he wants to get out there and make a name for himself." Aemon said.
"But enough with the petty talk. My cousin pointed out that His Grace sent us here with a message."

Steffon brought out a scroll and gave it to his uncle. Lord Stark took it and read it.

«Ned,

If you’re reading this letter, it means that my son and nephew have made it to Winterfell safely. I hope that you and your family are in good health.
Things here at King’s Landing are going well. Order is well-kept, there’s hardly any unemployment and the renovation I started 7 years ago is now complete. The problem lies with our father-in-law, Lord Hoster Tully. His health has been in a long decline. He grows weaker and weaker. He doesn’t eat much and he has started confining himself more and more at his chambers. I am afraid that he won’t make it through the year.

I wouldn’t ask this from you, if it wasn’t necessary and if I knew that you can’t follow with it. But I need you here, Ned. I need competent people I can trust around me and you are one of these people. I know that your son, Robb, has received both theoretical and practical training in ruling the North. So, I am confident that you can leave him in charge and travel to King’s Landing. Lord Eddard Stark…I will name you Master of Laws in the Royal Council.

Signed by Argilac of House 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.
Postscript: I also want you and your family here to join a festive occasion: my son, Hoster, is getting married to Daenerys Targaryen in three months.
Postscript 2: If feasible, I’d like for Theon Greyjoy to accompany you on your journey. His siblings, Maron and Yara, yearn for him. »

Ned handed over the script to his wife, Catelyn. She in return, read it before leaving it on the desk.

"Your brother is getting married?"

"Yes. Mother thought that would do him good, not to mention that it'd be beneficial for us to solidify the relationships between Houses Baratheon and Targaryen. Hoster and Daenerys shall receive Summerhall as their new home, it’s surrounding lands as source of income and Stormborn as their new name."

"And how about you, Steffon? I am pretty sure that such a handsome, hardworking and charming Crown Prince, such as you, should be betrothed at this point." Catelyn said. She was hoping that Steffon was still a bachelor. Perhaps she could arrange for a Northern girl to marry her nephew. Or maybe even her own daughter, Sansa. Sansa becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? It would be a dream-come-true.

"As a matter of fact, I am. His Grace thought it best to unite Houses Baratheon and Tyrell in marriage. So, he arranged for a betrothal between me and Lady Margaery Tyrell. We are to get married in six months." Steffon responded to his aunt.

Catelyn struggled to hide her disappointment upon hearing the news. Sansa is definitely going to be upset about hearing it.

"I… I’ve heard about Lady Margaery. Sansa used to be on a frequent correspondence with her. I hear she’s beautiful, intelligent, confident and sociable. And that she’s dedicated to the care of her people. I hope that you’ll be happy together. How about you, Aemon? Any girl that your uncle and I should know about?"

"Mother suggested I marry my cousin, Myrcella Lannister. She wanted to reinforce the ties between Houses Baratheon and Lannister. However, Ser Jaime Lannister, Myrcella’s father, rejected the match. So, I am currently betrothed to Lady Talisa Maegyr of Volantis. My parents are currently overseeing the betrothal's detail in Volantis as we speak." Aemon replied with a tone of relief. Not that Ned could blame him. Even though marriages between cousins are common amongst nobility, the thought of breeding amongst relatives was something that always made Ned’s stomach turn upside down.

"Volantis you say? How did that come to pass?" The Lord of Winterfell asked, genuinely curious about this development.

"Two years ago, Malaquo Maegyr, who’s one of Volantis’ dominant triarchs, visited King’s Landing in order to negotiate better trading deals between his city-state and Westeros. Among the other members of this embassy was his granddaughter, Lady Talisa. Her grandfather conducted his business with His Grace, he left for his homeland but asked Talisa to stay to King’s Landing as her city’s ambassador. Apart from advising His Grace and his Council about interactions with Volantis, Talisa has helped in organizing a standard network of hospitals in Westeros. After watching Talisa’s political insight in action and given her intelligence and connections, my Lord Father considered a betrothal between myself and her as a great political move to tie Westeros to the largest and wealthiest city-state of Essos."

"Talisa Maegyr you said? Then she’s the one we should be thanking about the ideas of medical reform in our lands." Lord Stark said, pleased. For he had set out hospitals for the entire population of the North in all of its major settlements. Leila’s expertise proved invaluable on the matter. Now, Maesters with their acolytes, trained nurses and midwives are ready to receive and care for the patients. These new hospitals get their funds from both the King and the Warden/Lord Paramount of each region, who share the expenses by half. The hospitals themselves are managed by the oldest and most experienced healer and his council of various experts. They, in return answer to the local Warden/ Lord Paramount. It’s truly a revolutionary act for the public health.
Ned decided to change the subject though.

"Tell us about your Grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully." Catelyn urged, eager to hear news for her father.

"Lord Hoster is been in physical decline for the last 3 years. First, he was growing more and more tired during our sparring matches. So after a time, he had them stopped all together. Then, he started losing his appetite. He’s hardly eating now. And finally, comes the fact that he grows weaker and weaker. He stopped joining the Royal Council meetings and for the most part confines himself in his chambers, working from there. The only time he gets out of his chambers is when the weather allows it. He likes to visit the palace’s gardens. They remind him of home."

"I am sorry for confirming the bad news my mother sent you, Aunt Catelyn." Prince Steffon said woth sympathy, seeing his aunt's distraught.

"Isn’t there anything to be done, to help him?"

"I am afraid no. Grand Maester Pycelle has come to the conclusion that whatever affects Lord Hoster is mental, not physical. Perhaps, a reunion between relatives can help him."

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Should I confirm that you’ll be joining us on our journey south, then?" Aemon asked.

Catelyn looked at her husband, hopefully. He gave a small nod.

"We’d like to discuss it first with our children. But most likely, we’ll come with you, except for Robb who’ll have to stay here as active Lord of Winterfell."

"Of course. Now, with your permission, Uncle Ned, I’ll seek out Maester Luwin and send a raven to King’s Landing. So that I can update His Grace regarding the situation."

"Of course. In the meantime, enjoy the upcoming festivities and the hospitality of Winterfell." Catelyn told to her nephews as she was leading them towards the door.

The training yard of Winterfell was shaking from cheers and claps. The Pair Tournament was well on its way for the finals. And for the first time in 3 years, the North’s champions, Robb Stark and Jon Snow were facing serious contenders for their place. Their cousins, Steffon and Aemon Baratheon.

The Tournament had started out as a tradition to include the clansmen and the Free Folk upon joining the Northern fold. Since these were people who respect strength and martial prowess above most things, the Northern Lords had to prove to them why they deserved to rule the lands they had under their name. Following these honorary duels, a tournament of some sorts was added to the annual festivities of the Harvest Feast. And over the years, the younger scions of both families joined in, giving birth to a new era of camaraderie, especially since Ned Stark was usually arranging pairs between people and families who were at odds with each other, causing them to work productively together. Then, Ned would take them aside and present them with the solution he and his advisors had come up with, in addressing their conflict. This proved to be one of the most effective ways Ned had ever used to resolve conflict in the North.

Robb and Jon worked their way to the finals without much of an issue. Their speed, strength and almost dancing grace were giving them a clear advantage over many opponents. Rodrik and Asher Forrester, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark were their toughest opponents so far, but they too yielded to the Wolves of Winterfell. Edric Dayne, William Seasterk didn't even stand a chance.

The Southern Stags were also on another league. They too worked their way to the top. Only Smalljon Umber and Daryn Hornwood, as well as Domeric Bolton and Theon Greyjoy were able to provide something resembling a worthy challenge for them.

"Robb. Let’s give our people a good show, shall we?" Jon said in an attempt to break off his anxiety. Robb turned to his cousin and nodded his head.

"It will be a match they won’t forget easily. Trust me."

The Baratheon cousins approached their Stark counterparts.

"First of, I want you both to know, that it’s an honor to meet you again in this yard. May the best man wins." Steffon said as he was standing on Robb’s opposite side.

'Same here, cousin. Good luck out there. You're gonna need it."

"We'd thank you for it. If we needed it." Aemon said jokingly, donning his helmet.

"Are you read to show these Northerners how we do things down in the South, Lyonel?" Aemon asked his cousin as he was sizing the Starks up. 'Lyonel' had been Steffon's childhood hero. And Aemon was always calling him that in their games.

"You bet I am, Aegon." The Crown Prince replied with a playful wink, as he was closing his helmet. Addressing Aemon with the name of his own childhood hero.

All four combatants turned towards Ned Stark, who was overseeing the matches from his balcony. He raised his right hand, as a display of a signal.

"Ready?" He asked. No answer was given. Only cold determination.

"Begin!" He shouted as he lowered his hand. Immediately, Steffon and Aemon charged at Robb and Jon. Robb and Steffon clashed swords and repelled with their shields. Jon and Aemon engaged in a lock with their swords, until Jon broke it off with a sudden move.

"GET HIM ROBB! SHOW THESE SOUTHERNS HOW WE DO THINGS AROUND HERE!" Arya screamed at the top of her lungs. She had nothing personal against her cousins, but her losing to them and therfore being forced to forfeit her chance of taking own her brother and cousin was something she wasn't going to forget right away.

"You are definetly a sore loser, Arya." Sansa said, teasing her sister.

"You know me all too well, Sansa." Arya said sarcastically.

"Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Rodrik Cassel have taught you well." Steffon's voice was heard, praising his opponents, earning himself a look of approval from the Northern spectators.

"As did Ser Barristan Selmy did for you. A shame that we'll have to humiliate the legend's star pupils in front of his old friend." Robb goaded.

The Young Wolf then went on the offensive. Steffon however, repelled steadily and calmly all of his cousin’s attacks. He then, used his sword to block Robb’s and his shield to make him drop it. He followed that move with an almost dancing turn before he slams his shield on Robb’s face. He then, took advantage of Robb’s stumble to trip him. Robb collapsed on the ground like a sack.

Seeing that Robb was temporally incapacitated, Steffon rushed in to help Aemon. Jon had taken advantage of Steffon’s engagement to Robb, in order to force Aemon to the edge of the ring. Since they were fighting inside a circling ring drawn on the yard, any combatant who was caught stepping outside it three times, was to be disqualified. Aemon knew that all too well: he, himself had used that trick to exploit Arya's impulsiveness and goad her into disqualifying herself, after all. Jon used his superior speed and agility to wear Aemon down and make him follow him in traps. The plan worked. While he was defending himself, Jon was able to force Aemon into stepping outside the ring twice already. All he needed to do was make him lose his footing once more. Then, he’d be able to help Robb.

"Growing tired already, cousin? I thought that a pupil of the great Ser Barristan Selmy would be more energetic." He said trying to goad Aemon into a heedless action.
The plan worked. Aemon, gulped down a large breath of air and charged in an attempt to force Jon out of the ring himself. If he could make him step outside for the first time, he could start causing him nervousness. An ideal place for a mistake.

As Aemon clashed swords with Jon he...stepped on the left, causing Aemon to meet the empty air. The third step was imminent.

"NO!" Aemon thought, as he desperately planted his feet on the ground. Aemon stopped dead on his tracks. Just in time. And then…a large force moved him outside the ring. Steffon had slammed onto him, before he could move aside.

Now that Aemon stepped outside the ring for a third time, he was disqualified, leaving Steffon to fend for himself. A Stag against two Direwolves. Not that he seemed discouraged by these odds. Jon was having a tough time in overwhelming his cousin’s defenses. However, Steffon didn’t calculate one thing …the second player. Jon parried Steffon’s attack and ducked so that Robb can swing at Steffon’s legs and cause him to lose his balance. Unbalanced, the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms fell flat on his belly, giving Robb the chance to pounce at him and put his sword on Steffon’s throat.

"Yield, Black Prince." The Young Wolf asked coldly.

Steffon tried to swing, but Jon intercepted the blow and stepped on Steffon’s sword, making it impossible for him to move it.

The whole yard fell dead silent. Robb and Jon had just defeated two Princes! But it was only up to Steffon to accept defeat.

"Well fought. I know when I am beaten. A Prince surrenders with honor. I yield."

The yard erupted in cheers. And Arya was the loudest of them all. The Northern champions maintain their title for the fourth year in a row!
Robb removed his sword from Steffon’s throat and offered him a helping hand. Steffon hesitated for a while but eventually accepted it.

"Your Highness, you and Prince Aemon fought well…for two perfume-drunk Southerners." The heir to Winterfell spoke with a serious face.

"As did you…for two simple-minded fucks from the North." Steffon said in the same manner.

Dead silent fell on the yard. Catelyn had turned pale with what she had heard. Did her son just offend the Crown Prince? How could they make up for that insult?
And then…Robb and Steffon erupted in laughter and warmly hugged each other. Catelyn breathed in relief. Looks like it was just a joke.
Jon and Robert clasped hands.

"We'd better share drink. And balm wounded pride."

Jon nodded in agreement, before lead his southern cousins inside. It was time for the feast to begin.