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“Lord Baelish, what you suggest is treason.”
“Only if we lose.”
Something about those words—and the way Littlefinger said them—chilled Ned to the very core of his being. A manic smile had slowly been creeping on to the face of the Master of Coin ever since Ned had informed him of King Robert’s likely demise. Ned despised it.
“So you think that Lord Stannis will make the realm bleed? Maybe the realm will get the justice it deserves. Do you expect me to forget about Jon Arryn, Jory Cassel, or my son Bran? The Lannisters sent a man to cut Bran’s throat!”
“I do not expect you to forget, but it would be in your best interests to forgive,” insisted Littlefinger.
“So I should just forgive the Lannisters for all of their crimes, take Cersei by the hand and congratulate her for cuckolding Robert while I watch her bastard born of incest sit the throne?” replied Ned incredulously.
“For the meantime, as I have just said, while you plan your next moves.”
“And according to you those should include disposing of Lord Stannis and crowning Lord Renly? Where is the honor in that?”
Littlefinger laughed, scratching his short beard. “Ah, honor…honor is certainly the kindest word for stupidity.”
Stupidity? Is that why you claim to only have a shred of honor, then? “You think it unwise of me to remain faithful to Robert and the last wishes he delineated in his will,” stated Ned. His words were met with a slight twitch in Littlefinger’s smile. “That’s what I intend to do, and then leave this godforsaken capitol and head back to my family in Winterfell.” I’m utterly sick of politics, intrigue, and these deceitful games that people never seen to tire of playing.
“You must know that many here in the Red Keep will only be loyal to Robert and his wishes as long as he still draws breath. And from what I’ve heard, he only has a handful left. Why, if breaths were golden dragons, he wouldn’t have enough to father another raven haired bastard on a lovely whore.” Littlefinger paused. “Interesting how none of your trueborn sons have your look, Lord Stark, while I hear your bastard is the very image of you. Curious how those things happen, isn’t it?”
There’s so much I should’ve told Jon…If only he was safe at Winterfell with Robb. Fourteen is too young for a man to voluntarily go to the Wall. If only Catelyn hadn’t been so insistent and me so distracted, perhaps he and his wolf would still be with his family. Ned shook his head, trying to stop his mind from wandering. Gods was he tired. And gods did he dislike the direction that this conversation was going.
“That isn’t relevant to this discussion, Lord Baelish.”
“Likely not. But if you ever insist on spreading that scandalous tale about Cersei and Jaime, the Lannisters might try and spin the same tale about your sons.”
Ned ignored the comment, refusing to be distracted by it.
Littlefinger wisely got back to the topic of the king. “Regardless, you’ll need military support to enforce Robert’s will the way you want to. Robert, sadly, has no army loyal to him here in King’s Landing. Neither does Renly, and I’ll gladly swallow that lovely Valyrian dagger of yours if he hasn’t fled back to the Stormlands by daybreak. But the queen has over one hundred men at arms, and Ser Jaime might be marching a host of men through the gates of King’s Landing as we speak. However, the City Watch has yet to declare a side. With the right amount of gold, perhaps that side could be yours.”
Military support. Ned hadn’t thought of that specifically, but Littlefinger did have the right of it. If Robert died, loyalties should switch to him as Lord Protector for Joffrey. But given Cersei’s ambition and the fact that she was still in King’s Landing with her children rather than fled to Casterly Rock meant that she planned to do something, if not simply take the throne as Queen Regent in her own right.
“Are you asking me to bribe the City Watch, Lord Baelish?”
“Why, Lord Stark, you talk as if you’ve never heard of the concept! You have to make a choice here, you see, and I would not want you to choose wrongly. Lady Stark is much too beautiful to be made a widow.”
Ned ignored the comment again, though with great difficulty. He was only a northern lord and knew little of the ways of the south, but he did know that bribes were never a guaranteed way to get someone on his side. “If I decide to bribe someone, how do I know that they haven’t already been bought?”
“Why, that’s the chance you have to take if you wish to be a strong player.”
“In what? This ‘game of thrones’ that Cersei has told me about?”
Littlefinger looked mildly impressed.
“Our golden queen certainly has some big move planned. Just make sure that your next move will trump anything that she has in store, Lord Stark. I’ll take my leave, my Lord Hand. If you decide that you have more need of me when Robert is dead, or even before, I won’t be hard to find.”
And so Littlefinger left the room, with a final bow and swirl of his silver mockingbird-patterned cloak. Ned didn’t know how long he stood there in his solar, staring after that enigmatic man who tried so hard to be everyone’s friend and dispense seemingly wise advice to those who asked for it. He had thought that Littlefinger would help him do the right thing and carry out Robert’s wishes, but now he wasn’t so sure. All that Ned could take away from the conversation was that Littlefinger was delighted at the turn of events and looked forward to seeing whatever scheme Cersei had planned.
Dread began to descend upon him, and Ned suddenly had grave misgivings about staying in the Red Keep. Cersei knows that I know her secret, and all she’s done is smile and stay in the castle! Robert likely won’t be alive past dawn, and what’s stopping her from killing me to protect her secret, the secret that Jon Arryn surely discovered before his death?
Ned didn’t regret telling Cersei, oddly, for he still believed that he had done the right thing to prevent innocent children from being murdered. But that had been with the supposition that Robert would still be alive to deal with the Lannisters himself. The same family that tried to slit my son’s throat, and who’s to say that they won’t go for my daughters instead of me?
“Lord Stark? Is everything alright?”
Ned whipped his head around at the voice, but it was only his loyal guard closing the open door of his solar. “No, Tomard. Things are rather complicated right now.”
“I must give you my condolences about His Grace King Robert. I pray to the old gods for his recovery.”
His Grace. By all rights Lord Stannis was the true heir to the throne and soon to be the next man to deserve the title. And Stannis left King’s Landing when Jon Arryn was murdered. Ned had long suspected that Stannis had shared the secret that Jon Arryn died for, in this moment now more than ever. Did he feel as terrified of the Lannisters as I do now? Did he flee instead of simply leave under the guise of governing his lands?
“Tomard, I have a question to ask you,” Ned suddenly asked.
The guard looked at Ned curiously. “By all means, my lord.”
“A lord’s first duty is to protect his people, or he is no true lord at all. Would you agree?”
“It’s not my place to say. I’m simply a guard.”
“Damn it, just give me an answer.”
Tomard started, unaccustomed to hearing Ned swear or be short with him. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Yes. I think a lord should protect his people whenever he thinks them to be in danger, no matter the cost.”
I’m sorry, Robert. There’s nothing more I can do for you now. Perhaps the gods will reunite you with Lyanna, and all will be as it should’ve been had Rhaegar Targaryen not acted so foolishly. But I’m in danger now, if the terror I’m suddenly feeling is any indication. I don’t feel safe here. I never have. Ned thought of the promises he had made to Robert at his bedside, and he wondered how much it would cost him to keep them. He was still paying the price for the promises he’d made to Lyanna as she lay dying.
“Tomard, do you still have the letter that I gave to you for Lord Stannis?”
“Aye, my lord,” said the guard, patting his belt.
“Give it to me. There’s been a change of plan.”
“I take it I won’t be sailing to Dragonstone, then?”
“You still are. I’ll just be coming with you. I need to speak with Lord Stannis myself.”
~
Ned Stark disliked the sea. No, he loathed it. He had been on a ship only a handful of times in his life, all of those related to war and death. I suppose this time is no exception. He had been running from King Aerys when he had made his voyages from the Vale to the Three Sisters and White Harbor, having learned the horrific fates of his father and Brandon. The Iron Islands were pitiful piles of rocks, and Ned had enjoyed sailing to them no more than he did subduing Balon Greyjoy’s rebellion. By now Robert is probably dead, and it will likely take another war to get Joffrey off the throne and Cersei and Jaime Lannister brought to justice.
Still, though, Ned was relieved that he was on the Wind Witch, along with his daughters and all of the men that he had brought to King’s Landing. Captain Qos had been loath to set sail in the middle of the night, claiming that the tides were against them. Ned didn’t really give a damn about the tides at this point, so he offered to double his fee to the man if he could get his crew to start rowing for Dragonstone immediately.
It had been easy to leave King’s Landing—almost too easy. The Red Keep had been eerily silent as he assembled his men and travelled through the dimly lit streets of the city to the docks. Ned had expected Lannister soldiers to ambush him, men of the City Watch to kidnap his daughters, or at the very least Jaime Lannister to march a host to the harbor and slaughter his men as they boarded the ship. But no one had made any effort to stop him. Well, I wager this is one move that you never expected me to make, Littlefinger. And Lady Stark will never be made a widow while you still draw breath, mark my words.
Arya was excited to be on the ship, and that had much to do with the fact that Ned had convinced Syrio Forel to remain in his service for the time being. She had run up the gangplank, heading straight for the prow of the ship to investigate the grotesque carving of a witch with wings sprouting from her back. Ned wished that Sansa had shared even a tenth of her sister’s enthusiasm. After two days at sea, Sansa still hadn’t said a word to anyone, apart from basic courtesies. Ned didn’t know what he could do, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth about the prince she believed she loved. Perhaps she will be herself again once she forgets about Joffrey. That marriage would’ve been a disaster even if he wasn’t the Kingslayer’s son.
Ned had spent the entirety of the short voyage with his daughters by his side, walking along the decks and talking with them, trying to make up for all the times he had been too busy for them while in King’s Landing. Arya was doing her best to cheer her sister up, which he was dully grateful for.
“Think of this trip as an adventure, Sansa, like I told you before. And soon we’ll see Robb and Bran and Rickon, and none of them have ever traveled below the Neck or been on a ship before. Maybe father will even let us go to the Wall and see Jon!” Arya’s face lit up at the prospect. “Oh, could we father?”
“Perhaps,” said Ned absently, eyes focused straight ahead where he hoped Dragonstone would soon appear. Captain Qos assured him that the Wind Witch would reach the island by dawn, possibly sooner if the wind was with them.
“Why would I care about the Wall? I want to go back to King’s Landing and be with Joffrey,” answered Sansa, finally breaking her silence and glowering at Arya from underneath her hood. “And why would I care about seeing Jon? He’s only our half brother, and a bastard at that!”
“He’s just as much a Stark as you! There was a wolf for him too, or did you forget that?” Arya shot right back.
Ned saw Sansa open her mouth to reply, but he wanted to put a stop to their squabbling. This isn’t the time to talk about Jon or the direwolves. He felt too much guilt about those subjects, and with the realm likely on the verge of all-out war, he couldn’t afford the time to dwell on them. “Promise me, Ned, ” whispered Lyanna, her voice now joined by Robert’s.
“Girls,” snapped Ned before images of beds drenched with blood could assail him. “What did I tell you about arguing? This isn’t the time or place for it.”
Sansa and Arya obeyed. From the wary looks they gave him, Ned could tell that they were more scared of him than they were angry at each other. He supposed that forcing them to leave the Red Keep in the middle of the night with little explanation other that they were going to visit Lord Stannis on Dragonstone before sailing on to Winterfell would do that. Gods forgive me for the thousandth time…I don’t mean to be harsh with you, sweet girls. I’ll rest easier when you two are in a safe place.
“Lord Stannis has a daughter who’s of age with you,” said Ned gently, trying to think of something to change the tense mood. “Her name is Shireen.” Princess Shireen, now. “Perhaps you can play with her or join her in her lessons before you head back to Winterfell.”
His tactic seemed to have worked, as Sansa and Arya looked at each other and then started politely asking him questions.
“Will Shireen like doing needlework with me like Princess Myrcella did?”
“Do you think she’d like to join me in my dancing lessons?”
“Can she play the harp?”
“Are there secret passages in the castle that she can explore with me?”
“I’m afraid that I can tell you nothing about Shireen, as I’ve never met her,” Ned answered. Though I can’t imagine Stannis would be very receptive to his daughter learning sword fighting. “I assume she’ll enjoy the company of other girls her age.” He fell silent once again, staring out into the distance and smelling the salt of the sea.
“And…” Ned hadn’t given much thought to Shireen Baratheon before, but if Grand Maester Malleon was correct…
“Yes?” insisted Arya.
“Father?” questioned Sansa.
“I can tell you with certainty that Shireen Baratheon is black of hair, just like her father.”
~
Much like Ned Stark, Shireen Baratheon’s father was gazing out toward the sea, watching moonlit waves crash onto the shore of Dragonstone far below him. However, his daughter was far from his mind.
Stannis ground his teeth, staring for the hundredth time at the parchment held tightly in his hands. The same phrases always jumped out at him:
“His Grace, King Robert Baratheon, received a grievous injury from a boar while out hunting in the Kingswood….great loss of blood….slipping in and out of consciousness….let us pray to the Seven for his recovery…”
Grand Maester Pycelle’s words, on parchment stamped with Robert’s royal seal. Maester Cressen had awoken Stannis in the middle of the night, aptly predicting that this raven from King’s Landing brought grave tidings. Grave tidings indeed. So, like any dutiful lord, Stannis promptly dressed, went to his solar, and sought council from a trusted advisor.
“What do you plan on doing, my lord? Will you sail for King’s Landing at once?” inquired Davos. If his onion knight had minded being summoned in the middle of the night, he didn’t show it.
“Why should I? If Robert is truly dying as Pycelle claims, the last thing he’ll want is me sitting at his side. He has Ned Stark for that.” And it’s not like Robert rushed to break the Storm’s End siege when Renly and I were starving to death. He had Ned Stark to take care of that too.
“But you’re his brother, no matter how good a friend Lord Stark might be to His Grace,” said Davos simply.
“Stark was the only brother Robert ever wanted. He didn’t have to say it out loud to make it damnably clear to me.”
“Even so, perhaps he has things he wishes to say to you if there’s never another chance. And the same with you.”
“There are many things I wish to say to Robert, but I’m afraid none of them will bring him much comfort.” Starting with Cersei and Jaime Lannister and their abominations.
Davos shrugged and crossed his arms, coming to stand next to Stannis by the window of the solar in Sea Dragon Tower. All of the towers on Dragonstone had been carved in the likenesses of dragons by the Targaryens long ago, and it was impossible to escape the beasts. Stannis’ rooms were in the sea dragon’s head, and the windows of the solar were its eyes, fixed on King’s Landing far in the distance.
You’ve ever been patient with me Davos, always trying to get me to see the best of every situation. Stannis wondered if Davos thought him coldhearted for not wanting to rush to Robert’s deathbed. What could he know about strained family relations? Davos had found a woman who loved him when he was nothing but a poor smuggler, and they had made seven sons together—sons who were loved and dutiful and respected their father.
“Do you think you’re in danger, my lord?”
“Why would you ask me that, smuggler?”
“I don’t think your relationship with Robert is the only thing holding you back from sailing to King’s Landing. You’ve been here on Dragonstone ever since Lord Arryn died. I’ve never known you to be away from your council seat for so long.”
Stannis frowned, looking down at the waves again. Most everyone he knew—from his brothers to the members of the small council to his wife—thought that he had fled to Dragonstone to sulk over not being named Hand of the King. While he did begrudge Robert for that, and the fact that His Grace had gone gallivanting off to Winterfell to give just, honorable Ned Stark the position…there were darker reasons for his extended stay on the island.
Still, Stannis had made good use of his time while Robert hosted yet another tourney and likely reminisced about his glory days with Stark. A number of new ships were built in anticipation of future hostilities, the docks on Dragonstone’s fishing villages were repaired, and weaknesses in the castle were fortified by a veritable army of masons. He paid calls to his lords bannermen, few as they were, to assess the state of their lands and personal affairs. He settled disputes between his smallfolk, passed sentence on a tax collector cheating Lord Sunglass at Sweetport Sound, and advised young Lord Bar Emmon on suitable marriage prospects. Stannis even brought Shireen with him while visiting his lords, deeming her old enough to start learning the responsibilities of a high lord. Though Stannis did not appreciate Lord Velaryon expounding on all the admirable qualities of his five year-old heir in Shireen’s presence.
“Am I in danger? Maybe.”
“Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
Yes, there are quite a number of things I wish to tell you. Apart from Jon Arryn, Stannis hadn’t confided his suspicions about Robert’s trueborn children with any other soul. It wasn’t a matter of trust, exactly. He trusted Davos like no other, and not once in fifteen years had he ever doubted him. But there are some secrets that can kill us, some secrets that eat us up from the inside and lead to our destruction if we’re not careful. Perhaps that was the reason why Stannis had never told Davos about his investigations on the subject, or about the long hours he spent consulting with Arryn in the Tower of the Hand—that he wished to spare his loyal knight danger.
But now the entire realm was in danger from the Lannisters and their treachery. That raven from King’s Landing had changed everything. Stannis no longer had the luxury of contemplating what he should tell Robert, or how, or if he should bring others who might influence Robert into his confidences like Ned Stark. Or even Renly, gods forbid. And now I am the rightful king, if Robert succumbed to his wounds. But no one knows it but me.
Davos was silently watching him; patiently waiting for whatever answers Stannis had to give.
Taking a deep breath, Stannis dragged his eyes away from the sea and met his knight’s. “I know why Jon Arryn died, and I believe I know who did it. I left King’s Landing because I did not want to meet the same fate…”
And so Davos listened and listened, not asking any questions even though his widening eyes told Stannis that he had a hundred of them.
“…Joffrey must be stopped from sitting the Iron Throne, and not just because he might be an appalling king. He will be a wretched ruler, and I wager that even Stark’s bastard son could do a better job of it. The Iron Throne is now mine by rights, and I will not rest until the Lannisters have been brought to justice for committing treason of the highest order.”
“You’ll need support to do that,” came the quiet reply.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been cursing myself about my flight to Dragonstone and my caution and trepidation in telling Robert the truth about his children?”
“I’ve heard it said…” Davos paused, unsure if he should continue.
“Yes? Tell me what I need to hear, Ser. My lords will tell me everything else.”
“I’ve heard it said that all men are fools where love is concerned. Maybe that’s why you waited so long to act.”
“Are you under the illusion that I do things for love?”
Davos frowned. “Why, don’t you love your brother?”
You overstep yourself, Ser. That matter is none of your concern. That’s what Stannis would have said if that question had come from any other man, complete with a glare and an icy tone of voice. But this was Davos. Davos deserved an answer—most of all the truth.
Stannis clenched the windowsill, his nails scratching at the hard stone.
Do I love Robert? I was convinced I didn’t when I was a boy and told my father so, but father simply sighed and said that certain things came with time. I was convinced I did during the Storm’s End siege, when I was so desperate for help that I prayed to gods I didn’t believe in for his safe return. Stannis thought back to all the years he had spent with Robert, from Storm’s End to King’s Landing. He recalled all the times when Robert had wronged him, ignored him, slighted him, but also those rare occasions when Robert had heeded his advice, defended him, and depended on him—such as the night when they both watched their parents drown. Robert had held his hand so tightly that Stannis had been sure that every bone in it would break.
Time. We still need more time, father.
“I don’t know,” he heard himself say in a soft voice, closing his eyes. “I wish I could answer you, Davos, I wish I could.”
Davos didn’t say anything, instead choosing to grip Stannis’ right shoulder with his maimed left hand. Stannis sighed, leaning into the touch as much as propriety would allow. Davos simply gripped his shoulder all the harder, and Stannis and no desire to do anything but stand there at the window with Davos at his side, silently watching the sun rise.
It was inevitable, really, that that whatever powers were out there saw fit to grant his wish for only a few minutes more.
“Lord Stannis,” declared a voice following a flurry of footsteps and the creak of a door. Davos removed the hand from his shoulder and stepped away from him with such alacrity that Stannis wondered if he had ever been so close in the first place.
Stannis slowly turned his head, meeting the eyes of his cousin, Ser Andrew Estermont. The man looked anxious.
“I do not wish to be disturbed at this time, Ser. If the matter at hand does not involve my brother Robert or Dragonstone being attacked, I’ll deal with it later.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Ser Andrew with a small bow. “But I do not think that Lord Stark would have sailed here with his daughters and a number of men at arms unless he had good reason.”
Stannis stared at him.
“Lord Stark, the Hand of the King? He’s here? On Dragonstone?” Out of all the things that Ser Andrew could’ve said, this was one of the least expected.
“The very same. He set out from King’s Landing under cover of darkness over two days ago, and he insists on seeing you. Immediately.”
~
Ned Stark had never seen Stannis Baratheon smile. Not when the Storm’s End siege had been broken, not when he had utterly destroyed Victarion Greyjoy’s fleet during the Greyjoy Rebellion, not ever. He had seen him frown plenty of times, though, frowns that would often turn into a permanent scowl as he ground his teeth. But now the Lord of Dragonstone was doing none of those things.
I wonder how many times in his life Stannis has looked at someone in complete and utter shock.
“Lord Stannis,” began Ned, inclining his head. Sansa and Arya were standing on either side of him, and his arms were occupied with Grand Maester Malleon’s lineage book. The book was a nuisance, but he knew that Robert’s younger brother would require concrete facts before he believed anything. “My apologies for disturbing you so early in the morning without prior warning.”
Stannis quickly regained his composure; his face reverting back to the stern expression Ned was more accustomed to seeing.
“It is no matter at all, Lord Stark,” replied Stannis stiffly. “I was awake most of the night, on account of a raven from King’s Landing.” He gestured to a parchment on his desk. From where he was standing, Ned could make out a golden seal and a maester’s tiny hand.
“You’ve had news of Robert? Is he…is he…” Ned couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.
“Is he dead yet?” finished Stannis impassively, as if he were discussing something inconsequential. “That was to be my question to you, Lord Stark. You are, after all, the Hand of the King.”
Ned bit his lip, tightening his hold on the massive book. He wondered if he was the only person in Westeros who truly cared if Robert was dead or not. Cersei didn’t, that was certain. Littlefinger cared even less, and he even seemed excited about the prospect. Renly might shed a few tears, but only if the occasion called for it. But there was no telling what Stannis was feeling, for the Lord of Dragonstone wore his heart on his sleeve as often as Catelyn looked lovingly at Jon Snow.
“Yes, I am still the Hand of the King. But I’m afraid that I can’t answer your question.”
Stannis crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Then what business do you have here, Lord Stark? Shouldn’t you be at Robert’s side, comforting him like the brother he professed time and time again that he wished he had? Even if Robert is dead, wouldn’t the Hand of the King be with the small council discussing how the realm should proceed?”
This is not how this meeting was supposed to start. Then again, Ned’s priority had been getting his daughters and his men safely to Dragonstone rather than planning exactly what he would say to its lord.
“My business here concerns the truth, Lord Stannis. I would rather you hear what I have to say before you start lecturing me about duty.”
Stannis opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, the common looking man with muddy brown hair and a salt-stained green cloak who had been silently standing next to Stannis bowed to Ned and gave him a warm greeting—complete with an equally warm smile.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Stark. Am I correct is presuming that these lovely young ladies with you are your daughters?”
Stannis shot a warning glance at the man, who simply shrugged back. Ned watched the exchange with curiosity, and he felt it within him to return the smile.
“I thank you, Ser…?” Ned had met the man before and recalled that he was a knight, but he couldn’t place where.
“Ser Davos.”
“The man who deserves the credit for breaking the siege at Storm’s End. I remember meeting you before, Ser. I hope your wife and sons are well.”
Stannis’ warning glance to Davos only intensified, as if he couldn’t stand the fact that his knight decided to greet a visiting lord with harmless courtesies.
“May I present my daughters, Sansa and Arya?” Ned addressed Stannis once again. Stannis gave them a cursory glance. “They’re rather tired from their journey, but they would very much like to meet your daughter. Perhaps Shireen could show them around the castle?”
Stannis looked at the girls more closely this time, eventually shrugging. “I don’t see why not. Shireen is a quiet girl, but I expect she’ll enjoy meeting other girls her age. You’ll be taken to the library if I’m not mistaken, followed by Aegon’s garden.” He turned back to Davos.
“Ser Davos, instruct the servants to have rooms prepared for Lord Stark’s daughters. If Shireen is awake at this hour, make all the necessary introductions. I expect to be speaking with Lord Stark privately for quite some time.”
“But father…” protested Arya. Sansa looked at him imploringly. Ned set the book down on Stannis’ desk and kneeled before his girls, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Lord Stannis is right, girls. It is imperative that I discuss some important matters with him, as I explained to you before we left King’s Landing. I shall see you again by the midday meal at the latest, and you can tell me all about the castle and the people you’ve met, hmm?”
Ned instructed the guards that had followed him to the Sea Dragon tower to accompany Sansa and Arya, and the girls left with Ser Davos explaining the magical history of the castle to them. They’re safe now. True, they aren’t at Winterfell, but Dragonstone is far from being King’s Landing. Ned noticed Stannis eyeing the guards as they followed the girls out of the room, and the frown seemingly etched to his face deepened.
“I assure you, Lord Stark, no harm will come to your daughters while they are with Ser Davos. I trust the man with my life. And besides, you are a guest in my castle.”
“I simply wish for Sansa and Arya to have some familiar faces around them.”
Ned met Stannis’ gaze, and the two of them stared at each other in silence for an uncomfortably long time. It was Stannis who first broke eye contact, walking behind his desk and gesturing for Ned to take the chair in front of it. A servant came in with warm bread and a pitcher of wine, which Ned was dully grateful for. Stannis gestured for him to help himself to that as well, though he made no move to touch the wine himself.
“I see you’ve been reading Grand Maester Malleon’s Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms,” began Stannis.
The spine of the book was facing toward Ned, and he knew for a fact that Stannis hadn’t yet examined the title written in tiny, nearly illegible script. “You know the book?”
Stannis looked at Ned carefully. “Yes,” he said slowly, “And the fact that you brought that massive tome all the way in your apparent haste to leave King’s Landing means that you must know the importance of it.”
“Why would you think I left in haste?”
“The best time to set sail from King’s Landing during the summer is early evening, given the tides. Ser Andrew informed me that you sailed out under the cover of darkness. Not to mention the fact that the Hand of the King left the king’s side with the king in,” he paused. “Poor health.”
I walked into that one. And naturally the Master of Ships would know a thing or two about the tides. Focus, Ned. You’re here to tell Stannis Baratheon the truth so he can take the throne that is rightfully his, not to argue with him.
“Grand Maester Pycelle informed me that Jon Arryn was reading it before he died,” said Ned. “So I decided to take a look at it myself. I had hoped to find some clue as to what he was thinking about at the time, but instead…”
“But instead you found that reading the section on House Baratheon was more enlightening than you cared for?” Stannis crossed his arms again. The careful look in his eyes was gone. “Am I right?”
Ned opened the cover of the book, hurriedly trying to find the pages decorated with drawings of stags.
“No need to flip to the correct page,” interrupted Stannis. “I know how it goes: Orys Baratheon, founder of House Baratheon, black of hair. Married Argella Durrendon, two sons and two daughters from the union, all having black hair. For three hundred years the same pattern continues, with all children from a Baratheon father being described as ‘black of hair.’ The eye color and physical features might differ, I grant you, but the Baratheon name is always followed with ‘black of hair’ until Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen.”
He knows. Ned closed the book. “Then you know…”
“Know that Robert’s trueborn children are nothing but bastards born of incest? Of course I know. Why do you think I fled here to this miserable island after Jon Arryn died? Or did your dear friends on the small council give you the impression that I simply couldn’t stand my brothers?”
He knows, Ned thought again. This will make things go much more smoothly.
“The members of the small council regaled me with tales of you visiting brothels with Lord Arryn. And of you suggesting that those same brothels be outlawed altogether, nothing more.” Stannis snorted, while Ned continued. “Regardless, for I have never known you to care much about what other people think of you, Lord Stannis…”
~
And so Stark told his tale of how he came to Dragonstone. It was eerily reminiscent of the tale Stannis had told Davos not a few hours before, except for the fact that stoic, moral, honorable Ned Stark had handled the situation even worse than he had. Decidedly worse. Stannis wasn’t proud of how he had handled the secret of Robert’s children, but and least he had the sense the gods gave a stag not to go running to the lions.
Stannis picked up the nearest goblet on his desk and downed it in one gulp. Only when he had finished swallowing all the liquid did he realize that he had drunk the wine brought in for Stark, not his usual lemon or salt water.
Gods, the last thing I need is the headache that this wine will surely bring…
Stannis groaned, tightening his grip on the stem of the goblet in frustration. Stark was looking at him expectantly, just having finished explaining the offers that both Renly and Littlefinger had made him. And how he felt that his life and the life of his daughters were in danger, thus his flight from King’s Landing in the middle of the night. Fleeing for his life was the only thing that Stannis didn’t fault the man for, but everything else…
What do you expect me to do, Ned Stark? You were supposed to be Robert’s savior, the panacea to all of Robert’s problems with the Lannisters, the Crown, and the realm! The realm that Robert only ruled because Rhaegar Targaryen had the foolishness to run away with your sister! Yet all you did was hasten Robert’s demise through your inaction and your naïveté!
“Let me get this straight, Lord Stark,” said Stannis incredulously, “You discovered that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were not Robert’s children, and instead of informing Robert immediately you ran and told Cersei?”
And what have I done since Jon Arryn died and Stark came to King’s Landing to take his place? I ran off to Dragonstone and waited for Stark to work miracles. I’m no better than Robert in that. Stannis hastily pushed that thought away, finally saying what he had been itching to shout at Stark for quite some time:
“I might have thought that Robert was an idiot when it came to politics, but you…How could you have been such a fool?”
~
“You might think me a fool, Lord Stannis, but let me explain the reasons for my actions.” It was vital that Stannis understand why he had talked to Cersei in the first place. “Promise me, Ned, ” whispered Robert. “Take care of my children for me. I’ll soon give Lyanna your love. ”
“There is nothing I can do but listen to your reasoning!” snapped Stannis, his expression livid. “Not even the greatest mummer in Westeros could convince me that what you did concerning Cersei was even remotely close to logical.”
“I thought Robert would kill Cersei’s children the moment he found out the truth!” Stannis responded to that by grinding his teeth and getting up from his chair, walking toward the window and clenching the windowsill in frustration.
“I saw the Targaryen children. When Tywin Lannister presented those poor mangled bodies to Robert after the sack of King’s Landing…” Ned trailed off. Little Rhaenys had been stabbed some fifty times, and not even the crimson cloak she was wrapped in could hide the blood. Aegon had barely been recognizable; his head battered so thoroughly. “I don’t think even you would’ve recognized your brother at that time. His satisfaction was sickening. At that moment I swore to myself that I would never let Robert harm another child, even if I had to sacrifice my honor—or my life.”
“I wager that I would have recognized Robert. I saw his rage when I failed to capture Queen Rhaella, Prince Viserys, and Princess Daenerys when I sacked Dragonstone. He would have killed them with his bare hands if they hadn’t escaped to the Free Cities, I have no doubt about that. My failure in delivering him more Targaryens to murder is probably why Robert denied me Storm’s End.”
“Then I think we understand each other, Stannis,” responded Ned, rising from his chair and making his way to the window himself.
“No we don’t, Ned, and you’re deluded if you think I’ll ever understand what you did.”
Ned fought to keep his voice calm. “If you knew the truth about Robert’s children all this time, why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“I did do something about it. I told Jon Arryn my suspicions. And I showed him that book. After visits to brothels, forges, and tanner’s shops, he agreed with me.”
“For the love of the old gods and the new, why didn’t you tell Robert? You had plenty of time.”
“Don’t you understand?” Stannis ground his teeth yet again. “Robert saw Lord Arryn as another father and always looked to him for guidance. I doubt my brother would’ve believed the truth unless he heard it from someone he loved!”
Perhaps it was due to his lack of sleep, the stress of fleeing the Red Keep, or the memories of impossible promises made while sitting next to bloody beds, but Ned’s patience with Stannis Baratheon was deteriorating. Rapidly.
“Do you honestly think that Robert loved you so little? He charged you with the defense of Storm’s End and attacking Dragonstone during his rebellion, gave you command of the royal fleet during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and appointed you to a seat on the small council. He trusted you.”
“Trust isn’t the same as love. I trust you, but I’ve never had a reason to love you.”
“Why?” answered Ned, thrown off by the comment. He didn’t know which statement he wanted Stannis to expound upon, but he was certainly intrigued by both.
“You’re a man who always does his duty. No matter what.”
Didn’t you just give me a lecture on how I failed to do my duty? “Then why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve told Robert together and prevented a good deal of this mess!”
Stannis didn’t respond to that, continuing to intently stare out the window to the sea beyond. Ned sighed and made his way back to his chair, pouring himself a glass of wine. It was a robust red and quite delicious. He closed his eyes, letting the flavors roll around on his tongue.
“That might have been wise,” said Stannis quietly, still looking at the sea. “But that didn’t happen.”
“There’s still time to put things right.”
Stannis snorted. “Even if you hadn’t told Cersei that you knew the truth about her children, you still made a rather ‘mess’ of things in King’s Landing, as you term it.”
“Oh? What didn’t I do right?” The wine was starting to taste sour. Ned sincerely hoped that his daughters were enjoying their tour of the castle. And that Shireen Baratheon knows how to smile.
“You didn’t take full advantage of all the powers that were yours by rights as Hand of the King,” stated Stannis like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Explain what you mean, Lord Stannis.”
“First of all, if you wished to discuss your suspicions about Cersei and Jaime Lannister, you could’ve summoned me.”
“I did.”
“You had Grand Maester Pycelle write me a polite note requesting me—if it wasn’t too much trouble for my lordship—to come to King’s Landing at my earliest convenience. A true summons would’ve ordered me, in the name of King Robert Baratheon, first of him name, to come to King’s Landing immediately to discuss issues vital to the safety and stability of the realm.”
“I thought my meaning was clear regardless of how polite the letter was.” Damn it, Pycelle.
“Secondly, consider the small council. A relatively small number of new appointees would’ve given you a much bigger presence and reach in lawmaking. If you felt that Varys and Littlefinger were untrustworthy snakes, you should’ve replaced them. And Janos Slynt. The City Watch would be well rid of him, for he sells appointments and allegiances to the highest bidder. Had you put one of your knights in charge of it, the City Watch would be on your side, giving you a bigger military presence in King’s Landing than the Lannisters.”
Ned honestly hadn’t thought of replacing members of the small council. He had been rather out of his depth in King’s Landing, and thus he had relied too heavily on men who were more familiar with the state of affairs. What was it that Littlefinger had said of him? You rule like a man dancing on rotten ice. If only the politics in King’s Landing were as seemingly uncomplicated at those in the North.
“If you think you could have done a better job as Hand of the King, Lord Stannis, why didn’t you simply ask Robert for the honor?”
Stannis scowled. “I did. I presented my case to Robert, informing him of the woeful state of affairs in the capitol, starting with the crown’s debt to Tywin Lannister, the Iron Bank, and likely every other lord with at least two golden dragons to rub together. Lord Arryn had been too lenient on a number of matters, and I proposed what I would do to fix them.”
“He refused you.” That much was obvious.
“I don’t think he ever considered the possibility, regardless of the fact I worked tirelessly with Jon Arryn to run the realm while he drunk and whored his way around the Seven Kingdoms. When have I ever not done my duty to House Baratheon, to him?”
“What did Robert say to you, when you asked him?” asked Ned hesitantly. Not because he was afraid of angering Stannis yet again, but because he dreaded Robert’s response. Robert and Stannis had never been close, and Robert had done his share of complaining about Stannis ever since Ned had first met his friend in the Eyrie. “Come back to Storm’s End with me! ” Robert had said once. If you don’t like the sea that’s fine, because at the very least you’ll stop me from strangling Stannis. ” At first he thought it was just friendly brotherly animosity, for as much as he had loved Brandon and Benjen, Ned had occasionally wanted to push them off of the Wall or beat them bloody in the practice yard. But the more he had seen Robert and Stannis interact over the years had led him to believe that there was something much more complicated going on between them. The two Baratheon brothers were opposite in most every way that they could be opposites, which led them to clash with and infuriate each other more often than not.
“Robert laughed at me, and then he had the audacity to order me not to be so serious,” replied Stannis. “That wasn’t all. Robert felt the need to impress upon me that his best friend would take care of everything, and that I should go father some sons and learn to enjoy life!”
Inwardly, Ned cringed. Well, Robert, it seems that you’ve never failed to give Stannis reasons to want to strangle you over the years.
“Being a better Hand isn’t as simple as replacing a few council members. You’re forgetting an important detail, Lord Stannis.”
“Oh? Enlighten me.”
“You’re assuming that Robert would’ve agreed with all of my actions.”
“Why wouldn’t he? He’s always placed you on a pedestal higher than the one the Faith puts the Seven on.”
Ned nearly laughed. And you dare accuse me of being deluded, Stannis? “How close do you think our relationship was? His Grace wasn’t exactly receptive to everything that I proposed. Robert was the best friend I ever had, I grant you that, but that still didn’t stop him from threatening to put my head on a spike because I disagreed with him.”
Stannis waved the comment away. “I doubt Robert was serious. He was simply expressing his fondness toward you.”
“I wasn’t willing to risk it. I resigned as Hand of the King and made plans to return to Winterfell forthwith. He was quite adamant that he would rather have a Hand who agreed with every folly of his without question rather than a Hand who could think for himself.” Ned had purposely not told Stannis this earlier, thinking it irrelevant to the current situation. But apparently it was more relevant than he realized.
Stannis raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, and for once he didn’t have a sharp reply at the ready.
Shocked twice in one day, imagine that.
“Granted, His Grace eventually apologized for his conduct and convinced me to rethink my decision. He wanted to go hunting, you see, and I accepted my duty to sit the Iron Throne in his stead. We both know what happened at the hunt.”
Ned watched as Stannis purposely poured himself a glass of wine, studying it intently before taking a careful sip. Perhaps he disliked taste?
~
It was humbling, certainly. Humbling to know the Robert and Stark’s relationship wasn’t as perfect as he always supposed it to be. But it was still a hell of a lot better than what he had had with Robert. I’m still right though, Davos, thought Stannis. Even if Robert had his differences with Stark, he still considered Stark more of a brother than me.
For the first time in quite some time, Stannis poured himself a glass of wine. He never understood why men were so addicted to it, for all the bitter substance seemed to do was dull the senses and make people do illogical things. Especially when Robert drank. Stannis swirled the liquid around in his goblet, thinking over the illogical and unpredicted things that Stark had just told him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have some senses dulled after all. He drank.
“Robert was not the man I thought he was, Lord Stannis. Being king changed him, and not for the better. Even he recognized it.” Stark sighed and ran his hands through his hair. For the first time that morning, Stannis saw how utterly exhausted he was. Oh, Stannis had noticed that Stark’s clothes looked like they had been slept in for several days, and that he swayed slightly when he walked around the room. But Stannis had failed to detect the sadness in Stark’s grey eyes, or the deep lines on his forehead that made him look like a man twenty years older.
“I should never have come south. My place is in the North, in Winterfell, where the Starks have been for eight thousand years.”
“So are you going to fly back to Winterfell, just as I did to Dragonstone?” he said quietly.
“My heart wants to, and the old gods know that I would give anything to be with my wife and to watch my sons run with their wolves again. But I made a promise to Robert. I am still Hand of the King, so I still must do my duty to Robert and make sure his rightful heir takes the throne. The realm will soon dissolve into chaos, I fear, but I must do what is right, no matter what.”
I am Robert’s rightful heir. Stark knows that I know it, and now I know that he knows it. Stannis had wondered when that topic would be brought up. Both of them had danced around it all morning, choosing to focus on each other’s perceived failures first.
“We might not be friends…seven hells, you probably don’t like me at all! But I do know that we have one thing in common—our loyalty to Robert. You always did your duty to your brother, even when he might not have deserved it.”
You’re the first person to ever realize that, save perhaps Maester Cressen and Davos. “And so did you, even when you might not have wanted to.” Stannis didn’t know what compelled him to say that. He rarely complimented anyone, unless the statement was true. And it was true. Stark had never wanted to be Hand of the King after all; he’d simply done what Robert asked of him.
Stark gave him a small smile. “Robert might be dead now, but we still have time to fix the realm and make sure that the rightful king sits on the Iron Throne.”
Silence followed.
“Your Grace.”
Your Grace.
More silence.
“The North is behind you, King Stannis, and with a bit of persuading the Riverlands and the Vale should join. And I can’t see Renly sitting idly by while the Lannisters try and impose their rule on the seven kingdoms. You’ve lived in the snake pit that is King’s Landing for fifteen years, and I daresay you have a better grasp of the politics and the key players here in the South than I ever will. I need your help just as much as you need mine.”
Stark held out his hand. You’ll need support, Davos had said earlier. Well, here was more support than Stannis ever believed to get, for not only did the Lord of Winterfell control half the land of Westeros, but he believes me. Ned Stark believes in Cersei and Jaime’s incest, and he believes in the right I now have to the Iron Throne. And I didn’t have to threaten or promise him anything to do it.
Stannis stared at the proffered hand intently. He didn’t particularly like the man it belonged to, but he trusted and grudgingly respected him. And because there was trust and respect, there was the possibility that he and Stark might actually work well together.
“So you’ll help me see justice done?” His question was met with a nod.
Stannis grasped Ned’s hand, feeling light headed. He wondered if that had anything to do with the wine.
“For the realm.” Stannis met Ned’s eyes once again. “For Robert.”
END