Author's Notes: Oh well, I should have known… There was no way I could squeeze in all I wanted to this last chapter, so this story will be stretched to one more. Hmmm.
As for the twist in the story, I am sure NOBODY saw it coming – it is the most MOST UNEXPECTED and NOVEL! *grins* Apologies for my utter predictability…
As always, any comments or views are warmly welcomed should you feel so inclined!
It is with most profound regret that I have to inform Your Grace about the unfortunate and tragic demise of Her Grace the Queen Selyse, the ship carrying her being overtaken by an unexpected storm on rough seas.
Stannis stared at the words on the parchment, then hurried through the remaining lines desperately seeking mention of Shireen.
Princess Shireen was rescued as were most of the crew due to a lucky chance of a fishing boat arriving at the site of mishap only a few hours later. Alas, Her Grace the Queen had already gone down, as had her companion Lady Melisandre. It is suspected that they were trapped inside their cabin and lost when the hull of the ship sank.
Stannis read the lines again and again, the message they contained not changing in any of the readings. Ser Harmon, who had brought in the message carried by a rider from Duskendale, stood motionless, the rider panting laboriously behind him. It had been obvious that the news was of great importance from the grim urgency it had been delivered.
Stannis's first thought was of Ser Davos, how he should have been there to share the news with. Then he felt ashamed of the fact that his overwhelming feeling was relief upon learning of Shireen's survival. He should be devastated about the fate of his lady wife, and alarmed by the notion of having lost Lady Melisandre's guidance. How would he now know the path R'hllor intended for him?
And yet the overwhelming sensation descending upon him was numbness.
Mechanically Stannis put the letter down, somehow found the right words for Ser Harmon and the messenger, then retired to his chambers. It was not yet even twilight but he gave orders to his servant to bring his meals into his rooms this evening. Lord Varys and the rest of the Small Council were undoubtedly informed about the events this very same time if not before - they would need to meet and decide how to best to handle the aftermath. Shireen was on her way to King's Landing, the letter had said, so her rooms had to be prepared…
For a moment Stannis was at loss. What could he say to a daughter who had just lost her mother, one of the few people permanent in her life? Brushing that aside – he had to ask the steward to find a reliable woman, a governess of some sort for her…
So many things to do. So few emotions.
Stannis's counsellors had advised him about the necessity of a grand spectacle upon his ascent to the Iron Throne. People of King's Landing needed to see their king, needed to be given assurances of continuation of governance, they had said.
He had brushed them aside – such follies were wholly unnecessary and costly, and people of King's Landing and whole Westeros would see soon enough the governance in action in the form of peace, trade, law and order. Hence his coronation had been a subdued affair with only high lords and the members of his court present. Yet he had acquiesced to the plan that when Queen Selyse arrived in the capital, she would be crowned in a public ceremony at the stairs of the Great Sept of Baelor the Blessed.
None of that was going to happen now.
There had to be a public ceremony to acknowledge the Queen's passing nonetheless. Not that anyone in the capital would miss her – not many people had even known her. A small affair, just with the court presiding.
And then…what next?
Stannis was not a fool; he knew exactly what next. None of the members of his council had voiced the thought out loud as yet, but it was there just the same; he had to marry again. And this time, with luck, there would be more children. Maybe a son. Maybe more than one. A bloodline of House Baratheon strong again.
It was his duty.
By the time the news of the accident had reached him Stannis had found new kind of austerity and peace of mind. Unlike what he had expected, his thoughts of Sansa Stark had not passed – if anything, they had taken root and now nestled comfortably in the core of his being.
His baths and lust-filled dreams continued but rather than feeling ashamed, he had learned to draw succour of them. There were not many things that provided him solace from the trials and tribulations of governing, but this was one of them - his secret imaginary life with the Northern girl, with hair of auburn and bearing of a queen.
Yes, Stannis had accepted his dishonour and learned to live with it – but now the new situation disturbed the carefully constructed balance.
The king needed a bride.
Stannis was well aware of the facts. Lady Sansa was in every respect totally appropriate consideration for the role; high-born and educated from a young age to become a mistress of a noble household, even the highest in the realm. To be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had been her future once already. She was also young and healthy and from a fecund stock. Her parents had borne five healthy children together, and although there was a slight concern about her mother's family – six babes of whom only three had survived the trials of childhood, one dying in childbirth and taking his mother with him, her father had had three healthy siblings. No, there could be no doubt that the signs of Sansa Stark being able to conceive and carry sons and daughters to the end were more than promising.
But there was a problem.
Would she want him?
It was late in the day and Stannis was tired. A lengthy quarrel between traders from Pentos and those from Dorne had been dragging on and on, way too long to his liking, and had wrecked his carefully planned schedule for a day. He had intended to ride out of the city to the shipbuilding yards to check on the progress of his new ships – but instead he had been cooped up inside a stuffy chamber the whole day.
He stood up briskly, waved his hand for his scribes to continue with their work, and escaped out to the battlements of the Red Keep. There was a certain corner where he could stand and look out to the sea, and the sight of waves and endless skies had always soothed his mind when it was troubled.
The place was near deserted, as Stannis had known it would be, with only a lonely guard walking on his rounds some distance away. He wrapped his cloak tighter around him, the cool wind threatening to chill his bones. Yet the cold and the damp mist rising from the sea cleared his head – which was exactly what he needed in front of his unexpected dilemma.
The whole concept of Stannis being concerned with the wants of Sansa Stark was ridiculous. Noble maidens had no say in their marriages, their parents - or in this case, a brother – making such important decisions on their behalf. It was customary to keep the maiden appraised of the situation, but her unwavering obedience was expected.
Stannis knew that if he approached the topic with Lord Robb, the outcome was likely to be in his favour. If the Young Wolf sought alliances in the South there were none higher than one with the crowned king. And again, this was what her parents had planned for Lady Sansa, and the groom being a different king than originally intended should make no difference. At least this time the king was a rightful one, a true Baratheon.
And yet… Stannis remembered Lady Sansa's wary looks and impassive expressions, her features drawn into an impenetrable mask of courtesy. And then her happiness, her shy smiles, her joy when she knew she was finally leaving the court. Should he force her back, would the sullen spirit take her over once again?
And what of it? a voice in Stannis's head taunted him.
Stannis entertained no grand notions of himself. He knew he was considered to be dour, not a man for easy courtesies and too occupied with his work and duties. If he was not as old as to be considered a decrepit old man, for a maid of Sansa's age he must seem ancient nonetheless. He didn't care about social graces, food or drink or grand entertainment, didn't like hunting or riding for its own sake, and couldn't have cited a poem or pranced around the dance floor if his life dependent on it.
He didn't have anything to offer to a young woman to make her care about him for his own sake. Even his kingship was unlikely to advance his case, Sansa Stark having witnessed with her own eyes how far from the promise of a life in a glittering court the harsh reality could be. Her house was wealthy, and whoever she would marry, would be of exalted position. No, even his position as the king would not sway her, he knew.
So what? the small voice continued to scoff inside his head.
Stannis took a deep breath and shuddered. The wind was picking up and the sound of flapping Baratheon banners flying in the breeze was like a crack of a whip. Flap. Flap. Flap.
He could have her. He could have her for true – not only an imaginary vision tormenting and blessing his lonely nights. He could take her to his bed and nobody could say or do a thing. He could run his hand along her curves, brush his fingers against her soft skin.
Furrowed brow, tightly shut eyes. Tight-lipped mouth drawn into a thin line.
Those unmistakable small signs of endurance and revulsion Selyse probably hadn't known herself she had given out during their coupling – would he see her doing the same? If he forced her against her own true will, would he destroy the only beautiful dream he had had for a long time – his only true desire?
The tingling of his blood rising when Stannis had thought of having the girl in his bed died down and was replaced with disgust.
Stannis stared across the ocean of frothy waves with unseeing eyes.
No.
He couldn't – he wouldn't – do that.
He would rather marry another, maybe that Martell girl, Arianne or whatever was her name, to bind Dorne closer to the crown after all that unpleasantness with Elia Martell. Or even Renly's widow, Margaery, to secure the wealth of Tyrells behind him. Anyone, whose moods and preferences would not matter to him that much, and whose disappointment he could bear better.
Stannis made up his mind; he needed to ask her directly.
Relieved that finally he had a plan of action, wherever it would lead him, he turned and walked away so suddenly that he almost collided with the guard who was just crossing the walkway, and who now halted abruptly, muttering his apologies while trying to keep a hold of his lance that he had nearly dropped.
Stannis didn't notice any of that, so focussed he was on getting back to his rooms. He had a letter to write.
Stannis had all he needed in front of him; a freshly sharpened quill, a pot of ink, several sheets of pristine parchment cut into small squares to be able to be sent by a raven. He was alone, having sent everyone else hastily away. Now all he needed was words.
He took the quill, dipped it in ink and bent his head to the task.
Lady Sansa,
Undoubtedly the sad news has reached you too through the dispatches I have sent to Ser Davos. Yet I can't wallow in my personal sorrow, but I have to think ahead to the future.
The realm needs a queen, and I need a wife. In this search you are the first person in my mind, someone who is foremost suitable to the position, and hence I would like to ask…
Stannis stopped, scanned what he had written, and creased his brow. Somehow it sounded…too impersonal. He started again.
Lady Sansa,
Undoubtedly the sad news has reached you too through the dispatches I have sent to Ser Davos. Yet the king's concerns are larger than his own personal sorrows, and I have to think of the future.
In my search for a wife I consider you as my first choice, your character and nature being most suited to the position as well as pleasing to me personally. Yet before I shall talk to your lord brother, I wish to learn what is your own position regarding this matter.
Stannis sighed. Was he really asking her opinion as about a matter of trifling curiosity, or was he asking her for her hand?
Over the next little while he tried several different approaches, scribbling words to sheets of used parchment just to see how they looked like when read – then furiously crossing them over when they failed to pass the muster.
It is you and you alone I seek to have as my bride, but before raising the matter with your lord brother, I wish to know your mind.
I wish to ask you if you should consider me as your lord husband out of your own free will, as if you do not, I assure I shall not seek your hand from your lord brother.
If you do not wish this, I assure you that I will bear you no grudge and no harm will come of it.
Would you be able to consider me as your lord husband?
Paragraph after a paragraph, Stannis tried to put his plea on paper– his desire to hear that should she marry him, it would not be because of obedience and duty alone, but also because she would not find him revolting as a man. He never went as far as thinking that she could actually love him – how could she! – but he hoped she could find it in her heart to care enough to enter their union with an open mind and with no regrets. That was all he was after.
Eventually Stannis abandoned all attempts for a lyrical content and settled for prosaic, hoping that she would see beyond the words to his true meaning.
Lady Sansa,
I trust I don't have to explain to you the situation I find myself in, you being sufficiently knowledgeable about the matters of the state and the realities of the court. The realm needs a queen and I need a wife, and there is only one person I would consider, that being your own person. Yet I wish not to press my suit if that is unwanted, no matter what political expediencies or your family's thoughts about the matter might be.
Hence I wish to ask you directly; would this notion be agreeable to you? If it is, I shall speak to your lord brother as soon as he arrives in the capital, However, let me assure you that I am not in a hurry and you are most welcome to visit your family and spend time in the North first if that is your wish.
If, however, it is not, I shall abandon this pursuit and will turn down any suggestions to that direction. I assure you that your decision will have no bearing towards my relationship with your house, and your good name will not be besmirched by me or mine.
Stannis had decided to send the message securely sealed inside another missive to his Hand, to be handed to Lady Sansa's hand by Ser Davos himself. He knew he could trust him implicitly, but now he was wondering how he would be able to get her message back to him. Maybe her kin paid attention to her correspondences? Would it be odd if she was to write to the king directly, without the knowledge or involvement of her brother?
Stannis was also chagrined to be found out asking a mere girl's permission, and even more fraught should the answer be a refusal. Letters were mislaid every now and then and could find their way into wrong hands. The humiliation of it…
He pondered over the problem for a long while before coming up with a solution. To the end of his letter he wrote:
Regarding the means of you communicating to me your wishes in this matter, I ask you to give a small token of yours to Ser Davos, who will bring it back to me. Any token will do, a piece of cloth, a trifle trinket, a branch of a dried plant – anything. Should your answer be yes, include something of yellow in that token, even the slightest hint. If I can find nothing of that colour in it, I shall know that you received these words but that you can't see living your life by my side. If so, I shall understand and abide by it, and wish you the very best.
He finished the letter with a flourish, starting with the usual litany of Stannis of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals… - but stopping himself at the first word and signing his letter simply with Stannis.
Rubbing his wrist that had started to cramp after the intense session Stannis stared down at the innocent looking folded piece of parchment.
His happiness on the line, such a deceiving little thing.
Then it was back to work for the king, trying to forget the high stakes of his gamble and ignore any attempts to calculate how soon he could expect the company back and what would be her answer. By Stannis's reckoning the two parties should meet somewhere near Harrenhall, where he had sent his message to be carried to his Hand by a fast rider. Could he perhaps expect a message from there, even the token, should it be so light and small as to be able to be carried by a raven?
Ser Davos had written a few times, official dispatches as well as more private notes to his king, but none indicating that the parties would have met already.
Days dragged on in the monotony of drudgery, the only relief being the arrival of Princess Shireen. She was even more serious as before, and the tragedy of both his daughter and himself witnessing a loss of their parent to the sea was not lost on Stannis. As much as he hated to reminisce about his own heartbreak, one evening he sat down in Shireen's rooms and told her all about that dreadful day on the Shipbreaker Bay and his anguish of seeing the ship carrying his parents being smashed against the rocks.
Words didn't come easily to him, but he got them out nonetheless and was rewarded by a squeeze of her daughter's hand of his own – how it had sneaked there, Stannis didn't know, but he took it as a positive sign.
As could have been expected, hardly the pompous ceremony to farewell Queen Selyse had ended when the members of the Small Council started to debate the merits or lack thereof of various eligible maidens across the realm. Everybody had their favourites; Ser Axell Florent wanted to see Talla Tarly, daughter of Lord Randyll, on the throne, the detail that she was a relative of his conveniently not mentioned; Lord Varys was adamant that the Dornish matter required Stannis to marry the daughter of Prince of Dorne, Arianne Martell; Lord Monford favoured the union with Tyrells; and the new Grand Maester Dagan dared to even suggest Janei Lannister, the daughter of Kevan Lannister, in an attempt to breach the drift between the crown and House Lannister.
Sansa Stark's name was brought up a few times, but Stannis scoffed at all suggestions and refused to entertain any deeper discussions of the matter, stating a need to wait for the return of the Hand of the King before further talks.
Days went by and all Stannis could do was to endure. And wait