Stannis stood on the ramparts of Dragonstone, looking down at the roiling sea, as the wind whipped at his cloak. It was not raining, but the mist was heavy today, dampening his hair. There had not been a calm day since he'd been here. The constant storms had made the siege all the more difficult, but they had not stopped Ser Willem Darry's fleeing with the two Targaryen children.

He clenched his jaw at the memory. It almost felt like a personal slight, though logic told him otherwise. Total victory had been within his grasp, and it had been cruelly snatched away. Now the battle he had won tasted bitter because he could not deliver the mad king's children to Robert.

Stannis rubbed his forehead. The spots in front of his eyes heralded the coming of another headache. It is this place. The climate, or some curse on the castle. He had had these spells since he'd been a young boy, but Dragonstone seemed to have a worsening effect on them. In the short time he'd occupied the castle, he'd already had two, and this was the third. He pushed off from the wall and headed inside before the dizziness struck.

The descent seemed to take forever. The spiraling stairs made the vertigo worse as he inched his way down, leaning on the wall. At least he would not have to stay here long. His time on Dragonstone was coming to an end.

"M'lord?" said a voice. "You all right there?"

Stannis looked up. His vision swam and he couldn't identify the speaker. It must be a serving man from Dragonstone; it was not one of his men, whose voice he would have recognized. He had no time for the Dragonstone servants. When Stannis' men had come ashore, they had opened the castle to them, claiming they had been planning to give up the Targaryens, but that meant nothing when Darry had been allowed to escape.

"I will be in my chamber," he said, fumbling against the wall until he found Rhaegar Targaryen's bedchamber door. He pushed it open. The servant said nothing and Stannis closed the door. Once inside, he staggered over to draw the curtains. The sunlight, reflected off white-gray clouds, offended his eyes. Then he was in blessed darkness and there was some relief.

He could still hear the crash of the waves outside, but that was an improvement over Renly's shrieks he would have had at home, not to mention the noise of siege that had been with him for over a year now. He let his cloak fall to the floor, but did not remove anything else, even his boots. He knew better than to fall into bed fully dressed, especially in wet clothes, but the throbbing behind his eyes had begun in earnest now and he no longer cared to move.

If I were at home, Maester Cressen would come, he thought. Nothing the old man had ever tried provided true relief, but it was the thought behind the attempts that counted. He never tired of trying some new potion or poultice, in the hopes that it might stop Stannis' spells.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, but he knew it wouldn't work. It never did. He would just have to ride out the pain, wait for it to pass. He tried to clear his mind, to dwell on other matters, like what would need to be done upon his return to Storm's End. Even that pleasant thought could not dispel the throbbing, though. Every sound in the castle, however distant, might have been a pike driven through his skull.

There was a knock on the door. It sounded like a kettledrum being beaten beside his head. "What?" he snarled.

The door opened. Stannis opened his eyes a hair. There was a window across from the bedchamber door and the light was too bright. He closed them again.

"M'lord, I want to help. Are you ill? Should I get a maester?"

The voice belonged to the man he'd mistaken for a Dragonstone servant. It was the smuggler, Davos. Now Ser Davos Seaworth. His manner was still more like a smuggler's than a knight's, though. His low birth was betrayed even in his speech.

Stannis rubbed his forehead. "There is naught a maester can do for me. It will pass."

Davos stepped into the room and closed the door gently. It was again dark. "Is it your head, m'lord?" He spoke in lower tones now.

"Yes." Stannis kept his eyes closed, but he could hear Davos' boots on the rushes as he came toward the bed.

"My father was often plagued by such spells. Perhaps I can help."

Stannis snorted. How could he know his father's spells were anything like Stannis' own? "If you are going to put a wet rag over my eyes or some such, do not bother. That does not help."

He was surprised when he felt the mattress dip as Davos sat at the head of the bed. "I know. Have you ever tried this?"

Before Stannis could ask what he meant, Davos' fingers were in his hair. Stannis stiffened at the unexpected contact. This man is too forward; he knows not his place.

"You need to relax, m'lord," Davos said softly, oblivious to Stannis' racing thoughts. "You'll never feel better if you're so tense." He began rubbing lightly at Stannis' temples. Stannis was acutely aware of the difference between the left and right hand. The tips of the fingers he had shortened felt oddly rough against his scalp.

Any protest he would have made died on his lips. Could it hurt to see if it would work? It was an odd, if not unpleasant feeling, and he almost stopped it for that. He had never been touched like that by anyone. It was strangely intimate, but despite his initial panic, Stannis found himself growing calmer. Davos' fingers moved in lazy circles over his temples, then his thumbs pressed between Stannis' brows. The vertigo had begun to subside.

"My father used to relax every muscle when he had one of his spells. Have you ever done that, m'lord?"

It seemed an absurd question. "No."

"Would you try it?"

Stannis tried to relax. He let out a breath, but it seemed that every time he drew one in, his muscles tensed again.

"Start with your feet, m'lord."

He felt a flare of impatience. Why start with the feet when it was his head that hurt?

"Your feet, m'lord."

Stannis tensed and relaxed his feet.

"Now your legs, m'lord."

He did as instructed. The smuggler's rough, uncultured voice should not have been soothing, but the next thing Stannis knew, he was waking, alone. His headache was gone. The light had shifted. He'd apparently slept the whole night.

Stannis pushed himself out of bed and blinked. There were no aftereffects of the previous day's spell, as there often were. Someone had removed his boots.

At least today would be his last day on Dragonstone. They would sail for King's Landing, where he would have to make his report to Robert and suffer through the ceremony of his kingship.

And then it would be home, to Storm's End. He smiled to himself at the thought of it as he made his way down the stairs of this accursed castle for the last time. Storm's End is mine, in truth. All those years he had spent managing it while Robert did as he pleased… now, Stannis would finally be lord by title as well as deed.

"We sail at noon, m'lord," a voice said, when he stepped out of the Stone Drum. He blinked in the sunlight, hoping today would not see a repeat of yesterday. It was Davos who had spoken.

"Good," Stannis said. "I suppose you are eager to see your lands."

"I am. But I will go with you as long as you have need of me, m'lord. It's all I can do." Davos was smiling. "Are you well today?"

Stannis felt an uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck. Foolish, he thought. He does not inquire because he cares; he inquires because I am his liege lord. "I am quite well." He paused. "Thank you, for yesterday. I will have to try that myself in the future. I have no lingering pain." He stopped. He does not care, he reminded himself.

"I am glad to hear it, m'lord. It took much time for my father to find anything that helped the pain." Davos paused. "I'm not sure he did in the end. I never saw him after I went to sea."

Stannis had not been expecting to hear such a revelation and he wasn't sure what to make of it. "I'm sorry. I lost my own father too young." Would any of this have happened if he had lived?

Davos nodded sadly. "The gods are cruel sometimes. I only hope I can see my sons grow into men."

Stannis made a grunt of acknowledgement. He knew not what to say when talk turned to gods. He says they are cruel, but such gods are not worth even acknowledging.

At least the winds were good. Stannis did not want to spend any more time than was strictly necessary on this endeavor. He would make his report, take his rewards, and go home.

He didn't enjoy King's Landing under Robert any more than he had under Aerys. The city was still too close, too crowded, and too dirty. He noticed Davos looking about in wonder.

"Your first time in the city?"

"Oh, no, m'lord." Davos looked away. "I was born in Flea Bottom. I was just thinking that I never imagined riding up to the castle at the side of some great lord."

"A lord who has taken your fingertips."

"No more than I deserved, as you said, m'lord. Perhaps less."

Stannis knew not what to say to that, either. Why can I not find the words around this man? He was saved from having to say more as they entered the Red Keep.

"Stannis!" a voice called while he was handing over the reins to a stable boy. He turned in time to see Renly come running up to him. "I missed you. Did you see a dragon?"

He looks better, Stannis thought. At least they have been feeding him.

"Only stone ones." He gave Renly an awkward pat on the head.

"Robert said to show you to our quarters." Renly seized his hand and pulled him in the direction of Maegor's Holdfast. As they went, Stannis cast a glance over his shoulder, but Davos was deep in conversation with one of the grooms. Of course, he realized. He would rather keep that sort of company than mine. He must be more comfortable around men like that.

"Robert is going to give me a present," Renly said excitedly, as they entered the castle. "He says he'll do it in front of the whole court."

"And you must thank him for his generosity." I do not mind playing the dutiful younger brother now. When I am in Storm's End, and he is here, I will not mind it.

Stannis would much rather have rested than attend the feast set for that night, but his absence would have been commented on, so he reluctantly dressed and went down to the feast hall, Renly at his side. It was packed with people. I suppose he must love this, he thought, scanning the room for his brother. Everyone loves a king.

"Ah, there he is! Finally, my wayward brother arrives!" Robert was striding across the hall toward them.

"I was finishing your war," Stannis reminded him.

Robert's gaze was cold. "Were you, now? And where are the children?"

He had sent a letter, hoping that this would mean he would not have to admit it out loud. "They escaped."

"A pity that that should so mar your victory, brother."

"And you?" Stannis asked, changing the subject. "What have you been doing these past few moons? Exploring the brothels of King's Landing?"

Robert's eyes went dangerously dark. "You will hold your tongue on those matters. Or have you not seen Ser Ilyn Payne?"

Stannis grit his teeth. Only a few hours. I must endure tonight and tomorrow and then I will leave.

The feast was a blur. Stannis found himself seated at the end of the high table, between Renly and Jon Arryn.

"Congratulations on your victory," Arryn said to him. Stannis almost smiled. At least someone was acknowledging it.

"I did what I could to help my brother." He could at least say that, now that he was to get what was rightfully his. His gaze found Davos, eating with some of the other men below. At least he could do that for the man. He had probably never even dreamed of eating in a king's hall before.

He would surely make a better dinner companion than the ones I have.

"And you have done it well," Arryn continued. "Few men could have held on at Storm's End like you did, for as long as you did."

Stannis sipped his water. "I could not yield."

"Of course not. But many men would have, if they were starving. I cannot imagine going through it, myself, watching my brother starve."

Stannis looked for the slight in there. Should I have done something to keep Renly better fed? But there seemed not to be one. "Robert asked me to hold the castle," he said simply. What else was there? It was true. He had done his duty as the younger brother, nothing more.

"I am sure he appreciates it. Even if he does not say so." Lord Arryn sighed. "He has taken the loss of Lady Lyanna very hard, you know. And Ned-Lord Stark-has gone north. You are Master of Ships, my lord. I hope we, as his counselors, can help the king through this difficult time."

"I will try." Robert would be better-served by pulling himself out of his cups and focusing on his work. All the wine in the world will not bring his love back.

"What is the state of Dragonstone now?"

"I left a garrison of a hundred men, with my uncle Ser Lomas Estermont in command. The men and servants the Targaryens had there claimed they were ready to give up the children, but I could not be sure. It was better to leave them outnumbered."

"A wise decision." Arryn paused. "Do you think the children pose a threat?"

This was the question Stannis had been dreading. He leaned back in his chair. "That would depend on what friends they can find. The king would be wise to root out any potential loyalists who might help them."

"And where would you look for such loyalists?"

Stannis cut off another bite of meat. "Dorne."

Arryn nodded. "Perhaps we should have a parley with Prince Doran. Amends will have to be made. Do I have your help in that?"

"Of course." Stannis could feel some of the tension evaporate. Perhaps Robert was destined to incompetence as king, but at least his small council would be worthwhile. Jon Arryn seemed a sensible man. Perhaps a seat on the council is not so poor an honor.

The next morning, he made sure both Renly and himself were presentable for court.

"When he calls your name you must take a knee in front of the throne and call him Your Grace," Stannis told him as they entered the throne room. "Robert is the king and you will pay him his honors. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Stannis." Renly was playing with his new cloak and appeared not to be listening.

Robert was announced, and Stannis bowed with everyone else as the king seated himself on the throne.

"It pleases me to announce that my brother has returned to us." Stannis lifted his head. "My brother, Stannis Baratheon, hero of Storm's End, victor of Dragonstone."

The court applauded. Finally, Stannis thought, holding his head high. I am getting my due.

"Come forward, brother." Robert waved him over. "You must be rewarded for your service."

Stannis strode forward and took a knee. "Your Grace."

"For your valiance in capturing the seat of House Targaryen, I award it to you." Robert smiled. "Rise, Stannis, Lord of Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Stannis stood, confused. I suppose this is right, as I won it. Perhaps I will give it to Renly when he comes of age. I must tell Robert so that he has the full ten years to think of a better sixteenth nameday present than the one I will give.

"And now," Robert said. "I have another gift. For my youngest brother, Renly Baratheon."

Renly obediently trotted forward and knelt as Stannis had done.

"As I have just sat my heir on Dragonstone, I would make you a lord in your own right. I give you Storm's End."

There was a roaring in Stannis' ears and the world seemed to fall away from him. This could not be real. Was Robert mistaken? Had Stannis misheard? Was he dreaming? He let out an agonizing breath. It could not be so.

Renly popped up, oblivious to Stannis' torment. "Thank you, Your Grace!" he said, just as he'd been instructed. He hurried back over to Stannis, smiling. "Did you see, Stannis?" he said, in the sort of loud voice that made the court ladies smile fondly. "I am a lord, too, just like you."

"I saw." Stannis did not look down at Renly. He was staring at Robert, with more loathing than he had ever felt for his brother. He did not take his eyes off him as Robert made a few more minor proclamations. Finally, he dismissed court and descended from the throne. Stannis strode over to him, leaving Renly to run to catch up.

"What was that?" Stannis spat.

Robert grinned. "As I said, Stannis, you are my heir. The Targaryens always gave Dragonstone to their heirs. Why shouldn't I?"

Stannis leaned in until inches separated them. "Because I had a seat. I do not need it. I do not want it. You took what was mine and gave it to a child."

Robert raised an eyebrow. Stannis wanted to throttle him. "Do you refuse the gift of your king?"

If I do, he will leave me with nothing. For a moment, Stannis contemplated drawing steel, but then his eyes met Ser Jaime's, beside Robert. He tried to will the anger to leave him with a breath. I would kill him if Renly were not standing behind me. He didn't know if that was true, but it helped, somehow, to make that the excuse.

"No, Your Grace," he said. Then he turned, cloak snapping and left the throne room, ignoring Renly calling his name. He could not bear the thought of all who had seen his shame. They must have been talking about it, how his failure to capture two children had cost him his rightful seat.

He stalked to his rooms, face burning. Someone would bring Renly back, surely. His head was starting to pound again and he was not sure he could take any form of loudness. It was not Renly's fault that Robert had given him Storm's End, of course, but Stannis did not feel like explaining it all to a child.

"M'lord?" Stannis stopped dead in his tracks at the door to his quarters. He had forgotten about Davos. The smuggler was watching him with a look of mild curiosity. "What's wrong?"

Stannis opened his mouth. He did not know how to explain it to Renly; how could he explain it to this man?

"Is it another spell?" Davos asked.

"Yes." It was no lie; his head was pounding, but that was not all there was to it.

"Then lie down, m'lord," Davos said briskly. Stannis was unused to being ordered about, especially by a man who had just been a landed knight a scant few moons, but he followed him into his bedchamber like a cowed child.

Davos waited for Stannis to lie down. Then, as he had on Dragonstone, he settled himself by Stannis' head and pressed his fingers to his temples. It was far less relaxing than it had been before, though. Stannis tried, but even when he closed his eyes, all he could feel was the anger coursing through his blood.

He jolted when Davos' fingers brushed his jaw. "You hold yourself much too tensely, m'lord. It will never stop if you don't relax."

"I can't relax," he growled. He did not mean to take such a tone with Davos, who was only trying to help, but it was out before he could stop himself. "Not after what… occurred today."

"And what was that?" Davos smoothed Stannis' hair back from his forehead. It was more forward than what he had been doing, but not unpleasant. It felt rather comfortable, like something his mother would do, though there was another dimension there, an odd stirring that he certainly did not associate with his mother. "I was not in court, m'lord. Worthier men than I took those spots in the gallery."

Stannis' eyes shut. Could he say it? How could he find the words? "He has taken Storm's End and given it to Renly. I am to have Dragonstone instead."

Davos paused. "I thought you were Lord of Storm's End. I know little of these things, m'lord, and I do not mean to speak ill of your brother the king, but it seems… unfair."

"That is exactly what it is." Stannis opened his eyes. His view of Davos' face was upside down, but he saw only sympathy there, not pity or scorn.

"Then I do know of unfairness and injustice," he said softly. "And I know you do not deserve such a thing."

"Thank you." It was absurdly simple, but it felt good that even one person understood. More so, perhaps, because it was this man, who had every reason to resent Stannis, and yet, here he was, in Stannis' bed, rubbing his temples. What has my life become since Robert took the throne? A mummer's farce. "I suppose you are Renly's bannerman now. I hope you will serve him well. I know he is young, but with all hope, he will grow into a good liege."

Davos paused. Stannis suddenly missed the touch. "If it's possible, m'lord… I would remain in your service."

He considered this. "I suppose," he finally said. "Renly cannot object, at least. He will never know."

Davos smiled. "I'm not such a great prize, m'lord. Just a simple smuggler."

Stannis frowned. It did not have nearly the effect when he practically had his head in the man's lap. "You are a smuggler no longer. You have paid your due. You are a knight."

"Don't feel like one, m'lord."

"But you are."

"True." Davos' fingers resumed their motions. The throbbing had dissipated but Stannis did not tell him that. "All thanks to you, m'lord."

"No less than you deserved," Stannis said firmly. "And perhaps more than was necessary."

There was silence. Davos' thumbs moved to Stannis' forehead.

"Besides," Stannis continued, letting his eyes fall shut again, "I will need all the bannermen I can get. The lands sworn to Dragonstone are paltry, and the island itself is nearly worthless."

"But it's an honor, m'lord, the seat of the king's heir."

"Symbolic. You do not know my brother as I do. It worked out nicely for him to be able to say it, but it was not how it was meant, I assure you."

"I will do what I can then, m'lord."

Stannis tried to remember who his bannermen might be now. He did not think he'd ever met a one of them. Sunglass. Velaryon. Bar Emmon. Crabs. Claws. Something like that.

It wasn't easy to recall his lessons with Maester Cressen when his head was being massaged like this. He stopped trying. Despite all his cares, Davos' touch had a calming effect on him. This common smuggler is worth more than the crop of Targaryen loyalists I must deal with now, I know that already.

Stannis rested his hands on his stomach and let his body relax. His problems were manifold, yes, but they would all still be there when Davos had finished his magic.