Stannis Baratheon had never been the most excitable man, but now he had reason to be despaired. As he sat on the walls of Storm's End - the easternmost part of the stormlands- and watched the swarming mass of the army from The Reach close in, he bore a dark, grim countenance. He had expected Mace Tyrell to pursue his older brother after his encounter with Randyll Tarly, not give up the chase and march east towards Stannis. Yet here they were, a castle of a few against a much, much larger army. The sight of the banners from Highgarden sparked a deep rage inside him, yet he had to remain calm. Robert had left him in charge, after all. Leaving the walls, he ordered the drawbridge be drawn up and all entrances closed off, they were to be under siege very soon. Stannis checked the granaries, only to find them half full; they had not been expecting a war. He grimaced yet carried, madly attempting to ready his small garrison of men against the host of southerners outside. As he ascended the castle steps to the command post, he wondered if Mace Tyrell truly intended to waste his forces trying to besiege Stannis rather than marching north and joining Rhaegar's troops. For Robert's sake, he prayed Lord Tyrell stayed put, though the prospect of fending off Mace's host did not exactly appeal to him either.

"We will not give this castle up easy," Stannis announced, addressing his hastily assembled right hands, "the stag does not bow to the rose." Stannis was aware of how ridiculous he sounded, especially after seeing the concerned looks his men exchanged as he explained how he intended to hold the castle with no other military aid. "We'll last them out," he said for hundreth time, "even with an army this small, Storm's End can hold them off until the rebellion is over. The Tyrell's won't attack unless they absolutely must." There was a ghost of truth in what Stannis said, Storm's End was a formidable stronghold to breach, even with such a meagre defense that he owned, but he doubted they could hold until Robert returned if they decided to attack. He was not going to look weak in front of his men however, they needed him to be fierce, so fierce he would be. "Our supplies aren't all too bountiful, but we can get the necessary food in from Shipbreaker Bay, and we will stand."

Stannis smiled to himself, the plan could work, and when Robert returned he would be named Lord of Storm's End. The smile soon faded though when he saw the nervous fidgets and glances his men made. "What is it?" he snapped, perhaps a little too harshly.

"My Lord," Donal Noye the blacksmith said calmly, "Lord Redwyne and his fleet have already taken Shipbreaker Bay. There will be no trade from there until his forces retreat." The room went deathly silent as Stannis struggled to keep his composure, his fists and jaw clenched.

"So we're completely alone?" Stannis asked, "we're supposed to survive on half full supplies until my brother returns? Or doesn't return, and Rhaegar marches down and wipes us straight from our seat?" He suddenly understood why his men doubted him so much, the task seemed impossible, was impossible in fact. There wasn't enough food to last them a year, and wars tended to be timely endeavours. "No matter," he said cooly, "we'll hold them nonetheless." A few disconcerted murmurs and protests arose, but Stannis quickly silenced them and ordered his men to leave. After they had left, he vented his frustration, slamming his fist on anything he could find. Only when his hand was bloodied did he calm, whispering to himself his doubts and worries, trying to think of a way out. If he surrendered, some of his men may be spared, but the Lords of the Reach would have their hands on the Stormlands, which would not fare so well for his brother's war effort. Defiantly, Stannis pushed thoughts of surrender aside and pressed on, determined to survive this war.

When he took to the walls once again, he observed the host from The Reach with curiosity. Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly had set up camp too close for comfort from the walls of Storm's End, yet had set up no siege weapons, dug no trenches, amassed no force with which to strike; they just sat there. Stannis frowned, if Mace chose to he could stir his forces and advance on him and eventually Stannis' garrison would fall. He guessed that Lord Tyrell wished not to lose any of his men, and Highgarden was well-renowned for their wealth of food. Stannis' blood froze in his veins, Mace intended to wait him out, he must know their supplies were limited; it may have even been him that ordered Lord Redwyne to besiege Shipbreaker Bay. Stannis cursed, Mace Tyrell was arrogant, but he was smart, he knew this was a fight he could win without a single loss to his own numbers. Baratheon had no choice, if Mace wanted to wait, then Stannis would make him wait as long as he could.

He did a lot of waiting in fact. For months he anticipated an attack, but it never seemed to come. His supplies were already running low and he had received no word from his brother. Stannis suspected the host outside had been shooting down anything with wings that came within a mile of Storm's End, so he was completely in the dark. For all he knew, Robert and his accomplices had been slain and the Targaryens were on their way down, yet he did not give up hope. Stannis reassured those who needed reassurance, made cutbacks to rations where cutbacks were needed and refused every offer of surrender Mace Tyrell placed at his feet. He may have been doomed, but he was defiant. He was a Baratheon after all. At some points it seemed as if they were going to survive this ordeal, though some weren't as optimistic as he was.

After five months, when their supplies had finally run dry, his watchmen had caught a small group of men attempting to leave the castle to surrender to Tyrell and his bannermen. They were brought before Stannis in chains. There were four of them; Ser Gawen Wylde, the master-at-arms, and three knights as craven as they were starving. Stannis planned to grant their wish to join the western host, via catapults, but his maester advised against it. He said that they may need the traitors for food after they die. The sentiment of cannibalism sickened Stannis, but he knew the maester was right. They had already resorted to killing and feasting on their horses, it may soon come to a time where dead men became their source of life. Stannis had them all thrown in cells and given barely enough food to survive.

Seven months had passed and Stannis' garrison had gone through all of the horses, cats, dogs and rats they could get their hands on. By some miracle they had survived thus far, all the while Mace and his army sat and feasted in their sight. Now though, Stannis had truly run out of options, and suddenly the prospect of feasting on corpses did not seem like such a bad idea. That was until a ship arrived in the harbour one fateful morning, a smuggler's ship packed to the rafter's with enough onions and saltfish to last their men for months. The shipped was commanded by a renowned smuggler known as Davos, and the men practically worshipped him for saving them from starvation. Stannis was curious as to why a smuggler would side with him during a rebellion, but he had no choice but to accept his food. Davos was named `The Onion Knight' after that and he joined Stannis as one of his lieutenants, an offer the young Baratheon had extended as a display of his gratitude.

A month or two later, after the siege of Storm's End had been going on for the better part of a year, Stannis was sat dining with his knights on the meagre rations they had. As Stannis listened to Ser Davos reimagine the story of how he managed to sneak past Redwyne's fleet and deliver the supplies just in time. He just smiled and listened politely whilst being able to relax knowing that their food source was stable enough to last for a good while. That was when he heard the sound of a horn being blown as it resonated out, probably throughout all of the Stormlands. Stannis stumbled hastily to his feet and raced to the castle walls, his heart pounding. Fearful thoughts screamed in his head, perhaps Mace had gotten tired of waiting and finally decided to take up arms against him. However, when reached the walls of Storm's End, he was not faced with bristling spears and poised siege weapons, but the lowering banners of House Tyrell and Tarly - and the arrival of the icy Eddard Stark and his rebel forces.

Stannis was overjoyed, after an eternity of waiting and praying to any god he could think of, his brother's army had returned to save him. After Ned had passively dealt with Mace's host and sent them packing back to The Reach, Stannis came to meet him with his meagre garrison, minus a few, in the field with endless gratitude on their tongues.

"Lord Stannis," Ned smiled, a rare sight, "I hope we were not too late." Stannis looked back at his skinny mess of survivors who only stood because of the bravery of men like Ser Davos and Ned.

"Fear not, Lord Stark," Stannis assured as he fiercely embraced his brother's friend, "you're just in time."

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