Author's Notes: So I started to do ASOIAF fanfic requests on tumblr, which means that in the past few weeks, I've written a lot of one-shot fanfics. This was one of them, but it's actually turned into a small series of fics. And they all go back in time. What I mean is that it starts out in present day, then the next chapter will be from the past, and so forth. It just sort of happened like that because I enjoyed writing this weird pairing.

Disclaimer: Like I own these characters. If that were the case, everyone would be sleeping with everyone. GRRM owns them and everyone dies instead.

Honor's Mistress
The Spoils of War

Catelyn Stark had not thought to be here.

She had explained to Robb, very carefully, that they needed to make an alliance with the Baratheon king. He had been hesitant at first, especially when it came to his own mother going to treat with the king, but she had been adamant that she would be the one to go. Robb had tried to send her back to Winterfell, but she'd told him that under no circumstances would she do that. Not until the war was won would her children ever be safe again. She had to do this for Bran, for Rickon, for Sansa, for Arya, for Winterfell and the North.

Still, none of that could really explain how she'd found herself in Stannis Baratheon's tent.

Catelyn wandered around the tent, her gaze crossing everything. The tent was sparsely decorated. This king either did not plan on staying here long or he simply wasn't the decorative type. Wylis Manderly stood a few feet away, looking forlornly at the food that had been brought in a few minutes before, but she paid him no mind. She'd told him that he could return to the camp they'd set up, so that he could eat and sleep, but he'd refused to leave her. Apparently Robb had told him not to leave her under any circumstances.

She nudged the war pieces around on the table, sailing a ship across the Narrow Sea before returning it to its place on the map. Her eyes stayed on the map, and she trailed her fingertips from Storm's End, across the Westerlands where Robb was, down the Trident, and back to Winterfell in the North. She missed her boys greatly, more than anyone could know, but she had to stay strong. She had to do this for the girls and boys. No one knew what lengths she would go to for her family. They all thought her weak because she was a woman, but she was stronger than any of them knew.

"Lady Stark, this is a much unexpected visit."

When Catelyn turned around, Stannis Baratheon was standing in the opening of the tent. The flames flickered in his dark blue eyes that looked over her carefully. Behind him was a red woman that she did not know, but who seemed to be gazing at her so deeply that Catelyn felt nearly naked. Catelyn bowed as Stannis stepped completely into the tent. "My lord."

"Your Grace, you surely mean?" The woman's accent was strange and foreign, but like velvet. She was clearly from across the Narrow Sea, but Catelyn could not be sure where. She'd only met a few people from outside of Westeros and the exchanges hadn't been long.

Catelyn smiled, somewhat dryly. "Yes, I meant 'Your Grace,'" she replied politely. "It only seems so strange having to call so many men 'Your Grace' these days."

"Your son is an usurper," Stannis grumbled.

"As was your brother Robert and apparently Renly as well."

Stannis and Catelyn stared at one another. She was no fool. Stannis was the rightful heir to the throne. It was the reason she had told Robb that they had to treat with him. Renly had the men and was more popular, but he was arrogant and reckless. He'd spent more time hosting feasts and tournaments than actually battling anyone. Stannis, on the other hand, was a proven commander and had experience in war. He'd held Storm's End with the wrath of Highgarden beating at his doors when Renly had just been a child. That was the man Robb needed on his side. He needed a knight and commander, not a politician and brownnoser.

"Leave us," Stannis commanded.

The red woman seemed displeased by this, but she did not argue with him. She turned her gaze from Stannis to Catelyn, her eyes seemingly burning red into Catelyn's light blue eyes. The threat didn't need to be said; it was loud enough for Catelyn to see. Still, she smiled pleasantly at the woman and nodded at her politely as she slipped out of the tent.

Wylis cleared his throat. "My lady?"

"You may return to your tent, Ser Manderly."

"But, my lady, Your Grace said–"

Her kind smile did not waver, even as she interrupted him: "Your Grace just said to leave us."

Wylis looked uncomfortable with the situation, torn between his loyalty to King Robb, loyalty to Catelyn, and also deference to King Stannis, even as he nodded and left the tent. There was a king in every corner, she had said what felt like so long ago, and it made it difficult for men to know who to defer to. She had decided for them when they'd rode up and been accosted by the king's men: they were in Stannis' camp now and that meant Stannis' rules.

Once they were alone, Stannis brushed past her and walked to a table that had wine and glasses on it. "Would you like a glass of wine, Lady Catelyn? You must be tired."

Catelyn's smile turned slightly more humorous. "You are not used to treating ladies, Your Grace?"

"It is an…uncomfortable situation," Stannis said, turning around to face her. For the first time, he looked at her – truly looked at her, as if trying to size her up. Catelyn was not an intimidating woman. She was petite, proper, dressed in a blue gown fit more for the North than the Riverlands. But this was where she was from. She'd been to Storm's End before many of times. When her father had been trying to decide who his daughters would marry, Stannis Baratheon had been on the list on candidates, but her father had decided that he was more ambitious than that.

"It's been a long time." Catelyn sighed and sat down at the table. "How long as it been? Since your wedding?"

"No." Stannis turned away from her, looking at something that she couldn't see. "It was the last time Robert went to the North, after the Greyjoy Rebellion. I went with him. We were treated at Winterfell for three nights before we returned to King's Landing. Robert had insisted on a feast, but I think he wanted to plant his seed a few more times and to scare the boy."

The memory came back clearly to Catelyn. She had been much younger then. It had been nearly ten years since then. She had been twenty-five and Arya had just been born. She'd spent the year terrified that she would lose her husband to yet another war. Ned hadn't even been there for Arya's birth, though no one had ever told her that. When they had returned to Winterfell, Robert and many of his men had come with him, Stannis in tow. She remembered how moody he'd been and how he had done his best to stay away from the festivities whenever Robert was around. Robert had been in exceptionally good spirits, especially since his young queen wasn't with him. He would take turns between planting his lips on different serving girls and then booming something at a nine year-old Theon Greyjoy.

"I do not think you enjoyed yourself very much the last time I saw you," Catelyn finally said. He still wasn't looking at her. She had an inkling why. The Greyjoy Rebellion did not bring up good memories for Stannis. Many a good man had been lost in the war, especially during the Battle of Fair Isle, which Stannis himself had led. "It was your victory that helped seal the war. I always wondered why you were so…distraught during the feast."

"The end of war isn't a happy occasion, Lady Stark." He drummed his fingers on the table. "It isn't a time for celebration but a time for mourning the dead. Robert took too much glee in war."

"And you take none, I see."

Stannis turned around finally. He walked over and sat down in the chair across from her. It had been a very long time since she had seen him. Nine years, she surmised. Though he had grown older and his black hair thinner, lines forming around his piercing blue eyes, she could still see the young man he'd been. Even then, he had been stern and distant with most people.

"You were the only one that wasn't truly celebrating either," Stannis pointed out.

"I was just relieved for war to be over. I've never been privy to bloodshed. If it can be avoided, it should be."

When he turned his eyes to hers, Catelyn saw something in them she hadn't seen before – a shadow of something that she could not place, maybe a shadow of the boy he had once been, all those years ago. "You want me to make a treaty with your son when he is trying to take what is mine?"

"Robb does not want to Iron Throne."

"No, he only seeks half of the kingdom, a modest demand indeed." A strange smile quirked on Stannis' face, but it looked more like a grimace to her. Stannis did well in war, but he did not enjoy it like his brothers. This was no game to him, and it was no game to her. "You are an intelligent woman, Lady Catelyn; you always have been. You should know by now that I will not accept this offer. The Iron Throne is mine by rights. Even your honorable Ned knew that much."

Catelyn hesitated for a moment. The way he had said her late husband's name, like it was dirty in his mouth, gave her pause. Slowly, she stood up from her seat and traipsed over to him, light on her feet. "Your Grace…" She didn't know what to say though. Stannis was steel and always had been. The first time she had seen him had been when she'd first gone to Storm's End to visit with her father; and even then, at ten, he had been serious and stubborn. "Stannis, please, he's my oldest son. He's only trying to avenge his father."

"Then avenge him, but the North is mine."

"You don't have the men alone – neither you nor Robb do – but combined, you can be victorious against the Lannisters and then, Renly will proclaim fealty to you."

"I will not bend the knee to a boy, Catelyn!" Stannis stood up, his body vibrating with fury, but Catelyn did not back down or step away from him. Instead, she stood her ground, glaring up at him, as he breathed heavily. For a moment, he looked ready to strike, say something he might regret, anything, but then he slammed his hand down on the table and turned away from her. "Get out. We will continue this discussion tomorrow."

Catelyn clenched her fists, but then relaxed them. "Your Grace–"

"I am done with you tonight, Lady Catelyn." He did not look back at her. He dare not. She'd seen him slip, only once, when he had been in Winterfell. That one time, he'd had too much wine. That one moment, he messed up, let someone in, and it had been the wrong person, the wrong woman, her. She held her tongue and started to walk away when she heard him say, "You are as beautiful as you were then, my lady, but I wonder if you will ever look truly happy."

She said nothing and left Stannis alone in his tent.