Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I do not own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire, or any material you recognize in this fanfiction. Stories I have knowingly drawn inspiration from are "A Game of Vengeance and Justice", "The Lion With Antlers", "A Song of Black and Gold", and several other Baratheon fanfictions. Please let me know if you have a problem with any parts of my story or want attribution. Thanks!

Sorry for the delay everyone! It was a crazy summer and I've changed jobs so that I'm writing for a living (sports writing) so that's been awesome. I'm just now getting back in touch with my muse, so I hope you enjoy.

Note: Chapters will start to get longer as we get more and more into the meat of the story. Right now I'm trying to provide an interesting and quality background while also being concise.

Durran & Multiple POVs

Durran (8 years old)

Four years had passed since Durran and his family moved to Storm's End. While at first it had taken some getting used to due to Storm's End sheer size, Durran had grown to love the great castle. He loved being close to both his fathers and able to be at the center for everything that went on in the Stormlands. That and the sea, oh how he loved to watch the waves crash against the cliffs and walls of the castle.

In those four years Durran had grown tremendously. He had begun to show some of the tell-tale traits of a Baratheon, though no one suspected the truth of his heritage. He was taller than most boys his age and well built, being just as strong as boys a few years older than he. This was a never-ending frustration to the boy as he longed to test that strength against those older than him in feats of arms, but his father and Ser Morrigan wouldn't allow it. He knew he was just as good as the older boys and sparring with those his own age quickly bored him as no one could challenge him. Little did he know that his father and Morrigan saw this as well, but were hesitant to put him up against an older opponent. Competition among the older boys was fierce as only the best were allowed to squire for the lords of the castle and their best knights. They did not doubt Durran could hold his own against them, but they worried about him being hurt by the much more aggressive and in some cases malicious older boys.

Durran was in the training yard, going through his strokes with a weighted wooden sword against the stake while he thought. Fighting came naturally to him for some reason and he was his most relaxed while going through the repetitions of strike and counter-strike. The combination of his strength, length, hand-eye coordination and most importantly his mind made Durran a fierce some opponent. It did not take long for him to get used to any weapon he held and he had since become very skilled, as much so as a ten or twelve year-old beginning squire, in wielding a sword and spear or mace. But he also experimented with other weapons, including the mace, axe and his favorite the war hammer. Nothing quite felt like the satisfaction you got from hammering an opponent's shield with a war hammer and knowing they could not withstand you for long.

'Right slash across the stomach, two-handed strike from shoulder to hip, back up the same way, decapitating strike, step-back, lunch and inside their guard' chanted Durran in his mind as sweat blurred his eyes and his muscles stung with the exertion. Every night he came out to the training yard by torchlight and for an hour worked and worked until sweat was pouring down him. He knew others thought he was more simple-minded and a bit of a brute as he was not overly verbose like most young boys and larger than most his age. He did not know, however, that his teacher Maester Cressen, newly brought from the Citadel to serve Lord Steffon, had recognized his real potential and conspired with both his fathers to bring it out. Whereas before his lessons with the master was pretty much the same as all the others his age taking lessons, in the past few weeks they had begun to change. Cressen had shifted from general history to that of the Stormlands and focused especially on its martial history, which fascinated Durran. He was learning about the great Storm Kings, warriors of great renown and in the midst of all this how the Stormlands had become what they were. Sometimes even his father, Morrigan, or Lord Steffon himself would join in the lessons and explain the tactics of different battles or why different rulers made the decisions they did during different campaigns or situations.

Durran finished his workout and lay on the ground, panting as he looked up at the stars above him, dreaming of fighting for his father in the Stormlands' armies or for King Aerys. However, he was unaware of the group of eyes watching him from Lord Steffon's tower.

Steffon, Roland and Cressen

Lord Steffon, Maester Cressen and Roland watched their young charge practicing in the yard, each absorbed in their own thoughts about the boy.

'He is becoming a Baratheon more and more with each passing day,' thought Steffon, looking upon his son in pride.

'He already is showing prowess with weapons and a growing understanding of tactics. While he will never be able to become a lord of a castle, he will be able to make a name for himself on the battlefield.'

While Steffon's eyes glowed with pride looking upon his son, Maester Cressen observed with a neutral expression, bending all his thoughts toward the young boy.

'Ever since I noticed the intelligence behind Durran's physical attributes and changed his lessons more toward his interests, he has shown a remarkable intelligence beyond even his own father, who is known for being one of the most intelligent Baratheons in recent memory. His recall of history is impressive if it grasps his interest, and he has a keen mind for tactics both on the battlefield and as a ruler. He may not realize it, but the stories of the Storm Kings' campaigns and expansions have exposed him to economics, politics, and how to and how not to rule.'

As Cressen contemplated the potential of his young students, the final member of their trio had his eyes glued to his son as he worried for the boy's future. Steffon was still somewhat removed from Durran as the Lord of the Stormlands and Cressen saw him as a pupil to cultivate. Roland on the other hand saw the boy as HIS son, had raised him and knew him as well as he knew the back of his own hand.

'The older he grows the more Baratheon I see in him, both the good and the bad,' though Roland as he watched his son gaze up at the stars.

'He is growing in body, strength, and mind, and showing the potential he has as the first son of a Lord Paramount and as a descendant of both the Storm Kings of old and the Targaryens. But he also possesses the not-so desirable traits from both lines and I am seeing them grow as he grows in other areas. His strength and skill in combat has begun to let loose the famous Baratheon fury when he fights and I fear what might happen if he loses control. Also, the Targaryen pride will only increase the more success he achieves. How do I keep him ground?'

The three men represented how complex young Durran was becoming. The potentially fierce warrior that his peers and those around him saw. The keen mind hidden behind a façade of physicality that if tapped could achieve greatness. Then finally the vulnerabilities within Durran, traits that could be his downfall if not tempered. Pride and a fury that was nearly unmatched throughout Westeros was a dangerous combination to possess when you had ability like Durran's. Little did all three men know that the combination of those two would help forge a great and terrible destiny for Durran Storm.

Steffon and Durran

Steffon paced the parapets at the very top of Storm's End as he waited for Durran to join him. From this view you could see over the entire castle, the lands and villages surrounding it, and the waves crashing into the cliffs from Shipbreaker Bay. Today was an important day in the education of Durran, where he was informed of his heritage as a Baratheon, what it meant to be a Baratheon and what it might mean for the boy's future.

Eventually he heard footsteps and labored breathing as Durran came up the last of the steps and out onto the ledge. It was a long way up to this, the highest point of the castle and even though Durran was in shape and active it still took his breath away. As he stepped out he instantly braced himself against the wind, which this high up and so close to the ocean was a steady gust that would knock even a fully grown man sideways if he was not careful.

'How does he stand there so solid against this wind,' thought Durran as he approached his real father and lord. Steffon was standing solidly against the gale, back to him as he stared out to sea, not moving a muscle as if he was on the ground. Just as Durran was about to make his presence known, Steffon turned toward him and motioned for Durran to join him.

"Durran, you are now old enough to not only learn about the history of our family, but our secrets and what makes us Baratheons at our core," started Steffon, looking down at his young son. "Do you know where your name comes from?"

"Yes father," said Durran standing up straight. "It is shortened from Durrandon, the name of our ancestors who ruled this land for thousands of years. The founder of our line was named Durran Godsgrief."

"I'm glad you're paying attention in your lessons with Maester Cressen," Steffon said with a small smile. "That is in essence our history, descendants of the Storm Kings of old and Orys Baratheon, Aegon Targaryen's greatest commander and some say his bastard brother. But being a Baratheon means so much more Durran, so much more."

While his father talked Durran had turned to face him, enraptured as he always was with the history of his family and people. Maester Cressen had taught him much of the basics but he was very intrigued at what else his father could tell him.

"Our ancestor Durran Godsgrief raised this castle with the help of his wife, Elenei, a goddess of the sea. Six times he raised a castle on this spot and six times Elenai's parents, god and goddess of storms, cast them down until on the seventh attempt he build a castle so strong that not even a god and goddess could destroy it. Magic runs through the very walls of this stronghold, protecting its inhabitants from hostile magic and it has never been conquered through force of arms," told Steffon, eyes far away as he remember his own father Ormund explaining all this to him as a boy.

"Are we really descendants of a goddess?" asked Durran, he had heard the story of Godsgrief and Elenei before but merely thought it fable, but his father had told the story as if it was fact.

"While those throughout the Seven Kingdoms will always view the story of Godsgrief and Elenei as a tall tale, you need not look farther than the Baratheon line to know it's truth," asserted Steffon fervently. "I know you have felt the call of the sea, Durran, just as I do. I could stand out here watching the waves for days on end, they calm me and I long to sail it's waves, and I have seen you stare at them just as I do, just as my father did and his father before him. Very few know this about us Baratheons, as people do not bother to look beyond our reputations as warriors, which don't get me wrong is well deserved. But they do not notice that many of our settlements are along the coast and that we too have a formidable navy. Many Baratheons have been adventurers who have sailed around the world and that curiosity will always be in our blood."

Durran stood there in silence as he contemplated what his father told him. He had always wondered why he felt so drawn to the sea and for adventure, but now hearing his father he completely understood what he had been feeling so long. However, he could not dwell on it long as Steffon continued with his lesson.

"Ever since the days of Godsgrief, our line has ruled the Storm Lands and its people. Countless Baratheons' blood has fed its earth, either in defense or abroad fighting for its glory. Due to our positioning in Westeros, we border the Reach, Dorne, areas that used to be part of the Riverlands or Vale, then the Crownlands, pirates from the Stepstones, we are constantly threatened. This is why our people have formed the martial tradition we are famous for, and that was led by the Storm Kings and continued by the Baratheons. We are fierce warriors and lead from the front, because why should we ask our soldiers to do something that we would not. What right do we have to lead them then? The valor of the Storm Lands is why Aegon Targaryen gave them to his most trusted commander and brother, he saw that he needed someone strong to lead our people and why Orys married the daughter of Argilac, the last Storm King, and adopted Argilac's standard as his own. The transition from Argilac to Orys needed to be seamless and our people respect Aegon and his commander. From then until now we have been blessed to have married even further into the Targaryen line and built one of the strongest kingdoms in the realm."

Durran felt pride course through him as his father and lord taught him the why behind the Baratheon line. The way Steffon spoke, with reverence, fierce pride and a small amount of arrogance ignited Durran's mind and made him truly appreciate what it was to be a Storm Lander and Baratheon. It was one thing to know the accomplishments of his people and know why they were feared and respected around the realm, but it was an entirely different thing to know why they had become that way.

Close to an hour passed as Steffon gave Durran a detailed history of their line, notable members, great warriors and even the family's greatest shames. Steffon made Durran feel like a Baratheon, even though he would never inherit or be recognized as such. However, Steffon had saved perhaps the most important topic for last.

"Well Durran, you have learned our families and people's history, what has made the Baratheon line what it is today, and some of our secrets. It has so far been mostly good information, meant for you to take pride in and for you to carry yourself accordingly. But there are also pitfalls to being a Baratheon, traits that have been the fall of many in our line, though others have also embraced that heritage and become greater for it. You know our words right?"

"Ours is the Fury," replied Durran, nervous as to where this conversation was now headed.

"Many believe that this is based on our martial culture and the many passionate warriors we have had in our family, which is partially true," continued Steffon in a serious tone. "But the key in our words is "Fury". That fury runs deep in our family and is the one thing I wish we had not inherited from Durran Godsgrief. He did not build Storm's End as a home, or to benefit the people, but rather as an act of pure spite and defiance against the parents' of Elenai who interrupted their wedding. Ever since, our family members have always had some degree of irrational anger or fury that is brought on by different things, whether it be a slight, battle or adventure. Some of the greatest members of our family have fallen victim to their overwhelming fury, rushing headlong into battle or other situations without proper preparation or foresight. However, the greatest learned how to harness their fury, using it to their advantage while being able to keep a somewhat rational and cool head. Now don't get me wrong, everyone is affected by the blood fury, there is no Baratheon who did not have it or could control it completely. You must always be aware of yourself and your emotions, less the fury be unleashed uncontrolled, for who knows what might happen."

Steffon kneeled down in front of Durran, who had a look of apprehension and fear on his face from what he had just been told. Steffon put a hand on Durran's shoulder and calmly reassured him.

"I myself do not possess much of the fury, it has only ever shown itself at times when I have been under extreme duress, like when your grandfather was killed," explained Steffon. "He, on the other hand, was ferocious in battle and used his fury as a weapon. He often had it under control, which made him a fearsome opponent indeed, but he could be baited which is how Maelys Blackfyre was able to goad him and kill him. You on the other hand, I believe you have the mind and the prowess to control your fury. Also, our marriages with the Targaryens have added a not so insignificant amount of pride arrogance to the mix, which does not help either. You must also seek control Durran, do you understand? But you also must not fear the fury, or else that fear will consume you."

Durran was silent for a while and it started to worry Steffon, until the young boy suddenly spoke.

"I have felt it father, when fighting or training. A burning sensation slowly building in my chest, anxious to be released upon my opponent. I have always been able to end the fight or quit before that point, and I always assumed it was the rush of battle that all men feel. But now I understand," the boy finished solemnly, looking up at his father.

Steffon saw a steel enter his son's eyes, a determination that reassured him that the boy had everything under control. He was glad that he would be able to tell Roland that the matter had been addressed and that he had finally been able to share something so precious to all Baratheons with his first-born son. Together the two stared down at the castle below, each lost in his own thoughts until Steffon guided Durran down back into the castle. Durran had now been given everything he needed to know to seek out his own fortune in life and knew what it meant to be a Baratheon, even if he technically was a Storm.