son, brother (i)
This house has many rooms. This house is "our home" but it is not a real house. Not like cook's house.
This house is a castle.
He is a boy. Robert is not a boy. Robert is "the heir."
Robert is "your brother." Robert is four when he is three and when he shows Father he is not afraid to ride the pony, Robert laughs and yells – "I've done that first, ages ago!"
He is four and he tells Mother – "I'm four, just like Robert!" – but Mother says no, Robert is five and you're both big boys now and Father is taking you to see the king and you must behave and not cry.
He promises Mother he will not cry. So he does not cry, not even when Robert pinches him and it hurts. Really, really hurts. Not even when Father says yes, you will always be younger and Robert will always be older.
"Even when I'm one hundred?" He can count to one hundred.
"When you're one hundred, I will be … I will be … older than one hundred." Robert can only count to fifty.
"When you're one hundred, Robert will be one hundred and one," Father says, and then he kisses them both on the head and says may the gods bless his boys with long and prosperous lives.
The king is not one hundred. One hundred is old and the king looks like Father except his hair is gold and not black and Father is not old so the king is not old too.
The king sits on a big chair in a big room. Stannis stares and stares and trips over his own feet. The big men around them start to laugh. Robert takes his hand – to pinch it he thinks and this time he will not be angry and shouts "Stop! You're hurting me!" because he knows he has been a naughty boy and Father says they must wait for him quietly and not make a scene and he is making a scene falling down is making a scene he knows because Mother says so – but Robert does not pinch him, he only holds his hand and leads him away from the laughing men.
"Who do they think they are? They're not allowed to laugh at you!"
"You laugh at me every day." Every morning and every night. Sometimes afternoons too, when Robert is cranky after his nap.
"I'm your brother and your lord. I'm the only one allowed to laugh at you."
"You're not my lord!"
"I will be one day."
"No you won't!"
"Oh yes I would! And you will have to do everything I tell you, or I'm going to chop off your head."
"Father won't let you."
"Father won't be there when I'm lord, silly."
This is news to Stannis. "Where will Father be?" And what about Mother? Will she go with Father? Can he go with them? He has many, many questions.
"Father will be dea – never mind, you're such a silly boy you won't understand anything at all."
"I am not silly! I can count to one hundred. That's twice more than you can."
But then Father comes to get them and they stop fighting because it makes Father sad when he sees them fighting.
son, brother (ii)
"I'm telling you, it was not the king we saw. Lord Arryn said so," Robert declared as if Lord Arryn was god and his words were never to be doubted.
"Father never said anything," Stannis protested. Lord Arryn was only a foster father, not Robert's real father, but sometimes Robert acted as if he had forgotten. As if the Eyrie was now his real home and Storm's End was just a place he came to visit once in a while. A year with Lord Arryn and Ned Stark, and Robert was already acting as if he had known them his whole life.
"Well, you never asked him, did you?"
"You didn't either. And anyway, Father was the one who took us to court that time. Lord Arryn wasn't even there, so how could he know who we saw on the throne?"
Robert sighed impatiently. "I described him, didn't I? I said my little brother Stannis thought the king with his golden hair and green eyes looked as noble as the dragon is fearsome. Lord Arryn said the king does not have golden hair and green eyes, and that must have been Tywin Lannister we saw. The Hand of the King. Lord Tywin sits on the throne when the king is indisposed."
"I'm not your little brother! I'm nine. And that's not how it was. We both agreed the king was impressive." It was one of the few times they had agreed on anything, so Stannis was not likely to forget.
Robert dismissed his protest with an unconcerned shrug. "Never mind that. Here's Father. Let's ask him."
Having had his story confirmed by Father, Robert wore a look of smug victory the rest of the day.
At first, Father was amused at the misunderstanding. "Didn't you hear the steward announcing Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King? King Aerys was ill that day." No, they had not, that was probably during the time they were arguing about Robert being able to chop off Stannis' head, but neither Stannis nor Robert was going to tell their father that. Quickly, however, Father turned more somber. "It is not right that my sons should not recognize their king, my own cousin. I shall take you to court more often."
"Lord Arryn said he might take me and Ned to court, if you and Lord Stark would allow it," Robert said, looking and sounding quite uncertain, and to Stannis' astonishment, almost shy.
"Of course I will allow it," Father replied with a kindly smile. It did not seem to bother Father that Robert would not stop talking about Lord Arryn. And Ned Stark.
"If he misses them so much, why did he even come home to visit us? He should stay at the Eyrie with his precious Lord Arryn and his precious Ned Stark," Stannis grumbled to his mother that night, when she came to kiss him goodnight.
"When he's at the Eyrie, I'm sure Robert misses us just the same," Mother replied, tucking in his blanket.
"But we're his real family. They're not."
"Would you rather Robert be lonely and friendless when he is far away from home?"
"Of course not. But … Mother, you didn't want Robert to go to the Eyrie. I heard you and Father arguing that time. Was it because you knew this would happen?"
"This?"
"That Robert would forget about us so quickly."
"Oh Stannis, he hasn't forgotten us."
"Only me, then?"
"Not you either. He asks about you in his letters to me all the time."
"He could have written me a few letters."
"You know Robert, he's not much of a writer."
"He's sent two letters to Ned Stark since he's been home. I saw him giving them to Maester Cressen."
Mother was staring at him with that special look, the look that always made him squirm uncomfortably. "Stannis?"
"Yes?"
"Do you mind so much? About Robert and this boy? Ned."
"No," he quickly replied.
"Are you lying?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Are you angry with me?"
"For lying? You shouldn't lie, of course. I'm sure your father and Maester Cressen have taught you that time and time again. But do you know what's more important?"
What could be more important than telling the truth? "What is, Mother?"
"You must know. You must know when you're lying. So that you will not be deceiving yourself."
He frowned. "I don't understand."
Mother kissed his cheek. "You will, one day. I promise."
son, brother (iii)
"Don't let him go," Mother warned. "Hold on tight."
"He wants me to let go. Look!" Renly was squirming, trying to get away from his brother's restraining hands. "He's ready."
"If he falls and cries like last time …"
"He won't fall this time. I know it."
Mother was not convinced. "If he falls –"
"I'll catch him. I promise."
Mother nodded, still looking wary. Stannis relaxed his hold on the baby, without entirely letting go. Renly swayed for a moment, and then quickly steadied himself. "Are you ready?" Stannis asked. Renly squealed with delight, emitting a deafening high-pitch scream.
"Was I ever this loud as a baby?" Stannis asked his mother.
"No," Cassana replied. "Though Robert was louder than this."
Rolling his eyes, Stannis said, "Why am I not surprised?" He turned his attention back to his little brother, speaking to the baby as if he was an adult capable of understanding every word. Robert talking to Renly in a fake voice like Robert himself was a baby had always been a source of great irritation to Stannis. "I'm going to let go of one hand first, and we'll see where we go from there," Stannis told his little brother.
Renly was getting impatient to be free, his mouth turning down into a sulk, tears pooling in his eyes. This was a baby who cried often and cried loudly. Before Renly could open his mouth to cry, Stannis released his hold on Renly's waist, his hand now holding only the baby's hand. Renly staggered forward as if he was about to fall, and then righted himself before Stannis could take hold of his waist again.
Slowly, Stannis released his grasp on Renly's hand. Without looking back at his brother, Renly took a few unsteady steps forward. "Mama," he called out, waving his hands around as if saying, "Look at me!"
Cassana was smiling and clapping. "My clever boy," she said, picking up Renly and burying him in her chest. "I wish I could take you with us."
Stannis was startled. "To the Free Cities? He is too young for that kind of journey, surely."
"I know."
"You don't have to go," Stannis muttered under his breath, but his mother heard him all the same.
"The king commanded both of us to go, not just your father. I suppose His Grace feels finding a bride for his son requires a lady's intuition as well as a lord's judgment."
"The Seven Kingdoms must have run out of marriageable women while we're not looking," Stannis scoffed.
"Stop grinding your teeth, Stannis. It's rude, and it's not good for your teeth and your jaw."
He had not even realized he had been grinding his teeth. Mother had first warned him about the habit half a year ago. He had tried to stop for her sake, mostly, but at times it happened without his awareness.
"You will watch over Renly, won't you?" Mother asked, sounding anxious.
"Maester Cressen is here," Stannis replied, to ease his mother's concern. Maester Cressen was here, along with Great-uncle Harbert the castellan, Renly's wet nurse and regular nurse, and a castle full of staff and servants.
"Yes, but you are Renly's brother, not Maester Cressen."
"I will watch over him until you and Father are back," Stannis promised his mother.
brother (i)
Robert prayed to the Mother for mercy. Mercy to spare the parents of three young boys, the youngest in his cradle still, all of them still needing their father's and mother's love and guidance.
Stannis prayed for the Father's justice. Justice for Steffon Baratheon and his lady wife who had committed no crime or offense in the eyes of gods and men deserving of such a grave punishment, who had only been doing their duty to their king.
Baby Renly slept on undisturbed in his cradle, as the gods refused to heed his brothers' prayers.
"We should have prayed harder," Robert said, after the bodies were recovered.
"I will never pray again," Stannis vowed. "Not for anything. Not to any of the Seven."
Three is not five, but Stannis had promised his mother that he would watch over Renly, and Robert was Lord of Storm's End now, so they would have to try their very best, he and Robert.
Robert went back to the Eyrie a week after their parents were buried. "If I am to be a proper lord, I must learn from Jon." It was Jon now, not Lord Arryn.
Two is not three, but Stannis was the one who made that promise to his mother, so he tried to keep it even as he started to recognize how inadequate he was for the task, how Renly, as he grew into a toddler and then a boy, would much rather be cared for by his glorious absent brother, the one he resembled in looks and temperament much more than Stannis.
Two is not three, or five, as it should really have been, but at least it is not one. Stannis has always been very good at counting.
brother (ii)
They were three again, or at least that must have been how it looked from the outside, the three Baratheon brothers together in the Small Council room – the king, the Master of Ships and the Master of Law. In truth, theirs were the voices loudest in opposition to one another, provoking each other, striking precisely where they knew it would hurt.
"I didn't know when I agreed to be Hand of the King that I was also signing on to play referee to the Baratheon brothers," Jon Arryn told Stannis with chagrin.
"Robert is the king, not Renly, not me. There is nothing to referee. Your duty is to Robert and the realm, not to us," Stannis said pointedly.
"An arrow straight to the heart," Jon Arryn said, smiling sardonically, his hand mimicking an arrow sticking out from his chest. "You're good, Stannis. No wonder Robert is always frustrated trying to get the better of you in an argument."
"He always bested me in everything else," Stannis muttered. "I do not care about winning an argument. I only want him to listen to wise counsel."
Jon Arryn sighed. "You and me both, Stannis. Your brother is not an easy man to serve, I don't have to tell you that."
Stannis raised an eyebrow. "So … he's my brother when he's done something that displeases you, but he's your foster son otherwise?"
Jon Arryn laughed. "If only Robert realizes how funny you could be."
Stannis stiffened. "I wasn't trying to be funny."
"Ahhh … but that is exactly when you are most hilarious, when you least meant to be."
Stannis had not wanted to like this man, in fact had resisted it for as long as he could. This man who for all intents and purposes had stolen Robert from his brothers. And from his parents before they died. It was unfair to think that, Maester Cressen had told Stannis more than once. Fostering was a fact of life - even Lord Steffon Baratheon, the only child his parents had been blessed with, left home amidst his mother's tears to be fostered at Riverrun as a boy of ten.
But Steffon Baratheon had not abandoned two orphan brothers when he left home.
"You abandoned me when you went to Dragonstone," Renly had accused Stannis during one of their many arguments.
"Abandoned? Robert made you Lord of Storm's End. You had countless men and women at your beck and call."
"I was eight years old!"
"I stayed as long as I was needed," Stannis said, not even trying to hide the loud grinding of his teeth.
king?
And then there was one. One son left, from the children Steffon Baratheon had prayed to the gods for long and prosperous lives. One left, from the sons Cassana Estermont had risked her life bringing into this world.
I was asleep. My hands were clean.
"You must know. You must know when you're lying. So that you will not be deceiving yourself."
How could it be a lie? How could it be a lie if he believed it to be true?
Mother?
"Wanting something to be true does not make it the truth."
It was the red woman, his onion knight had insisted.
But perhaps Davos Seaworth was lying to himself as well. Was desperate to believe that the lord, the king, the man he had dedicated his life to serving was not beyond redemption.
Desperate to believe that Stannis Baratheon was not the man Davos feared he had become.
Burned gods and burned flesh. A brother's blood. Should they blame only the red woman, when Stannis' tongue never stopped her, when he had freely taken the rewards – men and arms and support – that came from the punishment exacted in the name of her god without any complaint or reservation?
He had no regrets about the burned gods. As to the other things …
Regret was pointless, a self-indulgence not likely to do anyone any good. But he knew the extent of his complicity and culpability, his own sins and responsibility.
His hands were not clean. He was wide awake each step of the way. She might have been whispering in his ear, but he was the one who decided to listen.
He searched his face in the mirror, and he saw no one he recognized.