Stannis V

I opened my eyes to a different landscape from the one I last remembered last being in, a different landscape to what anyone would ever see on Planetos, but it wasn't what I would call completely alien. The place seemed to be a large sewer, with walls and pipes made out of a metal that was highly corroded. It had water running through it, but it didn't smell like waste, to my surprise it actually smelled like seaweed, though not the rotting kind one usually smells at the beach, but rather the kind that was still green and used for sushi and other dishes. Yes, this looked suspiciously like the sewer where the Nine-Tailed Fox was chained up, which almost definitely meant…

My final thought was suddenly interrupted by the loud caw of a Raven, flying even deeper into the dark sewer, even so I recognized it's distinctive third eye. I sighed and completed my thought with large amounts of trepidation, "-which means that I'm inside my mindscape and Brynden 'fucking' Rivers is here too."

I made my way to follow the avatar of the three-eyed Raven, the splashing of water and the cawing of the Raven soon became my only guides as the tunnel was rapidly becoming darker and darker. During this I reflected on where I probably was in the waking world, I know I killed Euron while quoting Thanos of all people, but my survival was still a coin-toss and maybe this is the version of the Drowned God's Hell…

My thoughts continued to meander through more inane topics, such as why my mindscape was influenced by Naruto of all things and how the hell I was going to uplift Westeros without the potato, but I regained a semblance of urgency when it finally dawned on me that I wasn't freaking out at all despite the extremely precarious situation I currently found myself in, which meant that either my Mindscape can inherently keep me calm or that Bloodraven has achieved a degree of control over my mind that I really, really didn't want him to have, but it would do me no good to wonder about things that I can't prove or disprove, Hitchens's Razor came to mind, "What can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.",

I soon reached what appeared to be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, though rather than a cage where a large furry creature was held captive I was greeted by the sight of a Raven, flying up a large, but manageably climbable flight of stairs that began with an equally large cherry-red Tori-Gate. I smiled wanly, and proceeded to make my way up the stairs, this being my Mindscape I didn't feel any fatigue despite the fact that I was probably mortally wounded and still wearing my armor in the waking world.

When I reached the summit, I was greeted by an absurd sight. Brynden Rivers, though not as the frail crippled old man roosting on a Spider that I knew him as, but as the dashing spymaster from the Dance of Dragons who hadn't even lost his eye yet. He was sitting on the opposite side of a table I also knew quite well. It was the one my friends and I used to play poker on every Saturday while I was in University, in a very pale imitation of the weekly games the crew of the Enterprise held, but it was a very fun pastime, nonetheless.

Despite the person sitting opposite it and the fact that he didn't understand its purpose, let alone its significance the sight brought back very fond memories and a ghost of a smile played at my lips.

I sat down and a large bean bag appeared to stop me from hitting the ground, Bloodraven raised an eyebrow at the fact that I apparently had nominal control over this place, but didn't say anything until he materialized two cups of tea on both ends of the table, he gestured for me to drink and I found the taste of the chamomile that he had probably drawn from my memories to be pleasantly refreshing and from the look on his face when he tried it, he did as well.

"So, here we stand", the young man with the old man's voice said. I searched for some clever quip, but it didn't come, so instead I settled for the safest answer anyone could possibly give in Westeros and gave him a respectful nod and mumbled, "Lord Commander.", technically he still was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch as he didn't resign, wasn't voted out and hadn't died, so I may as well use his official title.

He raised another eyebrow at the title's use, though this time it was in confusion rather than idle curiosity. "This is the most unique dreamscape I believe I've ever visited…", he finally settled for saying after an awkward silence.

"Truly?", I asked seemingly genuinely curious, "the sights may be strange, but I thought Euron's 'dreamscape' would've been horrific enough to leave a greater impression.", his eyebrows rose in surprise, though he schooled his features immediately. It didn't help though, this confirmed the theory that Crow's Eye used to be his student, if only for a short time. I sipped at my tea, which hadn't cooled off at all to mask the small smile I was sure was tugging at the corners of my mouth, due to the spymaster's slight slip-up.

"Yes, that it was", Bloodraven said peering at me like how an autistic guy with OCD would look at a jumbled-up Rubik's Cube, "-tell me, why do you desire my death?", he finally asked the million-dragon question. I just smiled and said, "Why do you desire the Iron Throne?" Realization slowly dawned on him, though whether that was good or bad for me I couldn't say.

"I can see why you'd think that, but I don't really desire anything, mostly I just live-", he began.

"-in the past, yes, yes, I've heard the little speech before, so tell me and be honest, why?", I finished for him. He scowled at being interrupted, quite funny on the face of what was in all honesty a very feminine looking albino with long silver hair, who was essentially wearing a gimp outfit, as in the Night's Watch leather uniform, minus the mask.

"Because it's what she would've wanted.", he begrudgingly volunteered.

"Shiera Seastar", I muttered barely loud enough for it to come across as a threatening whisper that would've made Roose Bolton proud, and a quote from old Georgie came to mind and I spoke it aloud as it did, "Bloodraven and Bittersteel both loved Shiera Seastar and the Seven Kingdoms bled."

He looked very angry for a moment, but he skipped over the last few stages of grief and his features quickly gave way to acceptance, "That they did, and I would make amends.", he finally answered.

"And coincidentally the way to make amends is to take what you've always wanted?", I answered skepticism and sarcasm were clearly evident in my tone. He tightened his grip on the armrest of his chair, his knuckles turning even more white from the pressure.

"It's not like that", he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, then please do enlighten me.", I said pretending to feign my very real interest to piss him off even more. He smiled though he never eased the grip on his armrest and said, "Every King is either great or a disaster, there is no middle ground, if every King were a three-eyed Raven…"

He left the sentence hanging for me to pick up his thought. I smiled, though rather than the agreement he was probably expecting my features exuded pity. "Even a ruler who knows all of history is not perfect.", I began, and I could see he disagreed, though he was in fact paying very rapt attention.

"Every significant change in history is perpetrated by a change in rulers…", the speech I gave him was a long one, about how human progress has stagnated in Planetos, because no one has ever questioned the way people do things and everyone is comfortable with the status quo. I used Aegon's Conquest and The Doom of Valyria as examples of historical precedent for my argument but suffice it to say I think I turned Bloodraven into a Hegelian Historian when I explained Hegelian Dialectics. In the end he had to rethink his life for what felt like hours and both of us agreed on a plan for Westeros, which I won't spell out because that's literary tension 101, but suffice it to say that the conversation ended with him agreeing to take me on as his new student.

He was explaining the substances which can awaken magical potential before he realized that someone, presumably one of the Children of the Forest were trying to wake him up and when he acquiesced and left my mind my eyelids flew open and I woke up with a start.

I felt like I was just hit by a freight train, which considering the immense amount of pain in my chest was not exactly out of the question. I tried to sit up, though the pain forced an involuntary grunt out of me, and I fell back down on the fairly comfortable straw mattress with a plop. I tried to take in my surroundings, but they gave no particular indication of where I was, drab grey stone could've meant I was anywhere except Asshai.

"You shouldn't strain yourself too hard Lord Stannis", the placid grandfatherly voice, which I instantly recognized as belonging to Qyburn said from my right, "you've been sleeping for nigh a week now, it would be wise for you to continue resting…"

I acquiesced to the very reasonable demands with a grunt, it still hurt too much to speak properly so I didn't feel like wasting words, and I made myself comfortable on the bed as much as I possibly could, "Qarro?", I asked hesitantly and my voice came out hoarse from disuse, pain hammering where my wound was though I managed to push shook his head sadly, I frowned though whether it was noticeable through the grimace I was sporting from the pain or not I couldn't really say.

"He worshipped the many-faced god.", I began, "I don't think he would've cared what his funeral rites were, so tell Ser Rodger to give him a funeral in the light of the Seven, but with a particular focus on the Stranger.", Qyburn nodded attentively and scribbled down my orders, part of the reasons I was really glad I'd taken him into my service. Qarro was a good and more importantly a loyal friend, but he died the way he would've liked, fighting slavers and a worthy opponent to boot, besides I was honestly more worried about my own chances of survival to properly mourn for anyone else at this stage.

"Did Matthos Seaworth…?", I allowed myself to trail off, I had taken Davos' son as my squire, he was my responsibility and I'd failed him, Qyburn once again shook his head in his classic expression of sympathy, though the man was a psychopath and we both knew full well he didn't have any feelings at all one way or the other, even so I appreciated the courtesy.

"Get Ser Davos here.", I ordered simply

"My Lord", Qyburn began, "you need your rest…", I silenced him with one of my patented Mannis-glares, and he sighed with resignation and went to fetch my Onion Knight. The least I could do was look him in the eye and apologize for failing the responsibility the most trustworthy of my vassals had convened upon me.

It was around half an hour later that I heard the sound of footsteps making their way up the winding stairs of the small Watchtower that Qyburn had presumably commandeered as his sort-of field hospital on the Island, I blinked away the haziness probably brought about by the cheap Westerosi knock-off of morphine, aka. Milk of the Poppy. Ser Davos shuffled inside the small room, dressed in tattered unwashed sailors' clothes, I noticed his hair and beard looked even more unkempt than usual, though the characteristic redness of the eyes that would've indicated crying was for my purposes thankfully absent, though I didn't know why I was surprised, by modern standards his reaction to losing all of his sons during the Battle of the Blackwater in the books was almost callously tame, but that's the way the cookie crumbles in medieval times, I suppose.

"You requested my presence milord?", Davos said curtly, but not unkindly to my immense relief.

"Ser Davos", I said blearily, and his spine involuntarily straightened due to a pavlovian reflex I had long since ingrained into the entire crew that had come with me from Westeros, "your son was a good man and his loss is keenly felt by all who knew him." I wasn't good with consoling people, but Davos nodded along anyway, knowing me well enough to recognize that I was at least trying to make an effort and that I meant every word I said.

"You have my permission to have one of our Knights dub him posthumously if they're amenable, the lad deserved it, I'd do it myself, but…", the little jape of looking down at my bandaged chest as I said this seemed to take some of the tension out of the room as Davos snorted slightly before schooling his features once again.

"Tell me, what did we manage to recover from the hold of the Silence?", a spark of anger due to me evoking the name of Euron Greyjoy's ship made itself known in his eyes for a moment, but it passed as quickly as it came, and he began to breezily answer my question, "Lots of gold, spices and other random trinkets, some wooden bows, there were also two old bald men chained up in his cabin, but they were much too underfed to be roused and of course the Valyrian steel that the Crow's Eye sported…"

I held up a hand as the universal signal to stop talking and said, "Distribute the gold and spices as fair payment for our troops, try to recruit and train some of the freed slaves with some of it as incentive and keep the rest in our coffers, give the bows to our best archers-", Davos likely didn't know it, but these bows were almost definitely from the Summer Islands, meaning they could punch through plate armor easily, why wouldn't I give them to our best archers?, "- the two men, feed them and treat them amicably, but do not let them leave, keep the rest of the trinkets well-guarded", he nodded seriously recognizing the gravity of my order, "as for the Valyrian steel, I'm keeping the armor and the Ax… Well, on behalf of House Baratheon allow me to congratulate House Seaworth for joining the small Brotherhood of Westerosi Houses with a Valyrian Steel Weapon to their name."

Davos blinked owlishly at this, though I once again held up a hand to stop him from thanking me and merely said, "No thanks are necessary, it's fair payment for loyal service rendered, just make sure to get everything done before I'm healed up", I managed with a smile and Davos nodded determinedly setting off to complete his task, though Qyburn remained.

"Milk of the Poppy", I said curtly, and Qyburn brought me a small wooden cup of the foul-tasting creamy liquid, which I downed instantly, the pain already beginning to numb and my eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

"How badly am I injured?", I asked somewhat anxiously, though Qyburn gave me a nice genial grandfatherly smile that managed to set me at ease despite myself, "Most of your ribs are fractured and you'll have a nasty scar for the rest of your life, though thankfully no lung was punctured and you should be completely recovered within three moons…". Nevermore interrupted Qyburn from the corner of the room loudly cawing, "Corn! Corn! Corn!"

I drifted off to sleep with an out-of-place placid smile on my face as Qyburn began to let loose a stream of profanity that only a Parisian taxi driver back on earth would've been proud of and I laughed internally at the last part of his tirade when Nevermore lightly packed his outstretched palm that was offering him food and finally drifted back to sleep, or I suppose back to my lessons.

Omake (Semi-Canon)

"Davos!", Stannis barked at him sharply, his head suddenly whipping back up from the map they were both studying.

"Erm, yes milord?", his back straightened, this was usually what happened when Stannis got an idea that would drastically change their lives, usually for the better mind you, but it invariably meant a lot of hard work.

"It just occurred to me that your House has a Valyrian Steel weapon…", Stannis began leadingly and Davos was struggling to follow the line of logic that Lord Stannis was obviously trying to get him to see, so he just settled for agreeing with him, "Erm, yes, that it does milord."

"But…?", Lord Stannis began his sentence making a gesture that indicating Davos should finish it for him, unfortunately he still couldn't see where he was going with this and shrugged to indicate as much, Stannis just sighed exasperatedly.

"But you still don't have any House Words Ser Davos!", Lord Stannis finished his thought and Ser Davos understood, but he really couldn't care less about such things, he had thought about it of course, but the best ideas he got were just rip-offs of the other House Words, "Ours is the Onion", comes to mind as something that occurred to him when he was in his cups. Though by the looks of things Stannis was deathly serious about this so it wouldn't do for him to jape about it.

"I'm afraid I never gave it much thought, do you have any suggestions milord?", he asked, and Stannis smiled broadly, like a child who got the pleasure of naming the family's new dog, which in a way was exactly what he was doing.

"How about, 'A True Friend, A Worthy Foe'?"

Davos blinked; those were actually very good House Words.

A/N

Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it was just Stannis this time, but seeing as the Westerosi Interlude is coming in the next chapter it wouldn't have really made sense to add more to it needlessly and the meeting between Stannis and Bloodraven is really all that mattered, well that and Stannis ascertaining the basic fallout of his fight against Euron, but the more specific stuff he found on the Silence will be expounded upon in later chapters. As for the Omake I had fun writing it, but something like this never really fit in to the rest of the story normally, but I did want to give House Seaworth words and the ones I thought of seemed appropriate enough. At any rate, please leave a review if you're feeling generous.