After one final look at Lord Errol's rather outdated map, Stannis stated bluntly to the storm lords, "We need ships. Many ships." Not for the first time, he wished Lord Paxter Redwyne was not Master of Ships.

"Why my lord?" asked Lord Hasty, his brow furrowed in confusion. "It's just a quick march through the kingswood."

"King's Landing will be surrounded by sellswords, Dornishmen and soldiers of the Reach. The most we'll do is begin a siege – a long one. Even if we're joined by the rivermen and valemen, those inside the Red Keep will not yield. Besides, they – the false dragon's allies – have many highborn hostages at their disposal. In this situation, I doubt our enemies will view honour as highly as victory. In the heart of this hypothetical siege, hostages will be killed and we might all die from chills or whatever plague winter brings us."

"Only the lords who live close to the sea have ships," Lord Fell pointed out. "I'd wager they don't have enough ships added together to combat the Redwyne fleet or the royal fleet."

"There are ships in Dragonstone," Stannis said flatly. "Ships left behind by that false dragon. We take their ships and Dragonstone and then we will deal with the task of retaking King's Landing."

"That seems…odd, my lord."

"The false dragon expects a battle on land. He would have guards and soldiers situated everywhere in King's Landing and even outside the city. If we sail from Dragonstone to King's Landing via Blackwater Bay, there's a better chance for us to secure King's Landing than a siege. Furthermore, once we retake Dragonstone, the false dragon will be cut off from the rest of his sellswords."

"That would turn the tide," admitted Ser Narbert Grandison, a cousin and the representative of the elderly Lord Hugh Grandison of Grandview. "My lord, may I offer a suggestion?"

Stannis nodded. "You may."

"As Lord Fell pointed out, there won't be many ships available. Perhaps if you send a host of soldiers to recapture the kingswood, it would take the Targaryen's eye away from you. A few Dornish and Tyrell casualties would only benefit us, do you not agree, Lord Baratheon?" Before Stannis could speak, Ser Narbert kept on talking. "I'm not one to advocate death of course, but surely with a few deaths in our enemy's ranks would serve a good purpose? The Dornish may not surrender so easily, but the Tyrells might. We kill enough Tyrell men, the Fat Flower might be alarmed enough to yield."

It was a sound enough plan. The only houses that would have enough ships for a naval battle were Houses Massey and Bar Emmon and both of them were allied with the false dragon. House Bar Emmon was headed by a plump young man that was more a scholar than a warrior – he would not be much trouble. As for House Massey…upon the death of the last Lord Massey, his two elder sons both claimed to be Lord of Stonedance. Hopefully in their quarrel, they hadn't taken the side of the Targaryen pretender.

"I will take a troop of soldiers up Massey's Hook," said Stannis at last. "We will take ships from Houses Massey and Bar Emmon and sail to Dragonstone. We will be prepared for both a naval and a land battle. Ser Stanwell Errol will take a host of soldiers to the borders of the Stormlands and the Reach and harass Reachmen and capture the close castles." He paused for a moment. Who was loyal enough to lead the men to secure the kingswood in the name of King Orys? Lord Seaworth a high choice, but he needed the smuggler's skills. "Ser Narbert will lead the troops to recapture the kingswood," Stannis said, reluctantly taking the chance with Ser Narbert Grandison. House Grandison had produced fine warriors worthy to be a part of the Kingsguard in the past, but the Grandisons were supporters of House Targaryen in Robert's war…

However, Ser Narbert was not the Lord Grandison who fought in Robert's war and he did offer a reasonable plan. What if it's his trap? What if Ser Narbert leads the soldiers to the kingswood only to turn on them with secret soldiers lying low in there? Secret soldiers sworn to House Targaryen? That was a possibility, but Lord Hugh Grandison, Ser Narbert's liege lord, was old and had a litter of children last time Stannis spoke to him. If Ser Narbert wanted Grandview, siding with the false dragon would make sense.

"Milord Baratheon," spoke Lord Seaworth. "Lord Fell's an excellent soldier too. Why not put him in charge with Ser Narbert?"

Stannis casted a careful glance at Lord Harwood Fell. Lord Fell was a frequent jouster in his youth and oft admired the late King Robert's martial prowess. He'd even boasted the late king permitted him to hold his warhammer once. That was no doubt a lie, but it did seem to assure his allegiance to House Baratheon. With a slow nod, Stannis folded the old map and said, "If it comes to a long battle in the kingswood, send a rider to Ser Stanwell. I rather lose a portion of captured lands in the Reach than have all the men slaughtered."

Sers Stanwell, Narbert and Lord Fell nodded.

"Good. We'll all leave tomorrow at dawn." He gritted his teeth as a bolt of pain shot up his arm. It wasn't ideal to march into battle with injuries, but if he had to die in absolute agony thanks to his still healing arm, so be it.


"Here are more bandages Lord Baratheon." The maester placed a small stack of bandages on top of a growing mountain of bandages. He smiled at Stannis who stared back at him, unblinking. "You can never be too careful. It would be best if you change your bandages once a few hours, my lord. You don't want your injury to be infected eh?" Stannis grunted vaguely in agreement, his mind occupied with potential outcomes at Massey's Hook rather than the maester's chatter.

Though it was a rather sound plan of attack, there were still too many risks to Stannis's liking. How many ships would end up under his control? Enough to win a guaranteed naval battle? What if the Bar Emmon and Massey lords elect to fight instead of a peaceful surrender? It was a foolish notation that they would battle, but there was always the chance…

"Is there anything else you need, my lord?"

Stannis shook his head. "I think we have enough bandages here, Maester."

The maester dipped his head. "Very well, Lord Baratheon." He placed a small vial of thick white liquid on top of the pile of bandages. Milk of the poppy. Stannis shook his head again. "I do not require the milk of the poppy."

"The pain will be intense my lord!" the maester protested. "Surely-"

"I rather be awake with a clear mind than unconscious on milk of the poppy. If it means I'll be in pain, so be it. I value a clear mind over pain relief."

"Milord." Lord Davos appeared at the door of the solar. "All the men are ready to leave. They're waiting in the courtyard." He hesitated. "The Lady Shireen is on her way to Storm's End with Devan and a hundred soldiers. They are the soldiers you hand-picked earlier, milord. Lady Shireen will be safe. Ser Narbert and Lord Fell are eager to leave for battle."

Stannis snorted. "Glory of battle, eh?" He picked up the small bottle of milk of poppy and stared at it. He did not wish to use it, but other soldiers would find it a way to soothe their injuries. "No point wasting any more time," he grunted. "Let's hope the weather is good and the Masseys and Bar Emmons see sense in a quick, clean surrender. I have no desire to see excess bloodshed."

"May the Seven be with us all," murmured the maester.

Stannis said nothing as Lord Davos half-heartedly echoed the maester's words. When had the Seven ever cared? They took my lord father and lady mother right in front of my eyes; they granted me an unfaithful wife. The kindest they will be is to have me slain in battle along with my men. Giving the maester a curt nod, Stannis strode out of the solar, his mind set on one goal: the upcoming battles.

"Lord Baratheon!" called Ser Narbert. "We were about to send someone to find you! Some of us thought your injuries have worsened!"

Stannis frowned at him. "I was momentarily delayed," he said shortly.

"Last minute battle plans eh, my lord?"

"Mayhap, Ser Narbert." He turned to the other men. He was never particularly good at rousing his soldiers to march with inspirational words – that was more a specialty of the late King Robert. "As you know, a man calling himself King Aegon, has invaded Westeros with sellswords," he stated aloud, "and is supported by the Dornish and the Reach. It is our duty to rid Westeros of the sellswords and bring Dorne and the Reach to heel, in the name of our king." He paused and reluctantly added, "May the Seven be with us all." It was more a formal requirement; he had believed very little in the Seven, but many of the soldiers believed.

After the men cheered and enthusiastically roared with approval, Stannis took hold of the reins of a grey destrier which he borrowed from Lord Errol, and with a tiny wince, mounted it. His arm throbbing with pain, Stannis urged his steed to move forward and it wasn't long before he found himself at the front of an army, sluggishly making his way on a dusty and well-used road to Massey's Hook, with Lord Seaworth at his side and other prominent storm lords and knights riding at a short distance behind them in orderly and well-structured lines. Whilst Stannis chose to ride in silence, the soldiers talked, some murmuring and others talking a great deal louder like drunkards shouting at each other across long trestle tables. It was strange to hear seasoned warriors laugh and jest as they ride or march to battle. When I held Storm's End for Robert, no one uttered a single jape.

The single road soon divided into two; one to Massey's Hook – more precisely, House Bywater's lands – and the other down to the kingswood. For the tiniest of seconds, Stannis hesitated. Ser Stanwell had already left with a host of men to the Stormlands border. It wouldn't be long before Ser Narbert and Lord Fell break to the kingswood with troops. Perhaps it would be better to take the war straight to King's Landing. Surely it would take less time than a naval battle that might even fail due to any little errors. No. It is too late to change the plan. Besides, an abrupt change of plan may offend Lords Fell and Ser Narbert, who were to lead troops to recapture the kingswood.

"We will take the kingswood for the true king," declared Lord Fell, riding up to Stannis on his dark brown destrier. Stannis glanced at him and noticed the shiny armour Lord Fell chose to wear. His helm looked equally new too. It seemed Lord Fell was riding to a tourney rather than to battle. "We will send you a raven once the kingswood is ours," Lord Fell promised confidently.

Stannis shook his head. "Ravens can be shot down and messages read by those loyal to the false dragon. Send a rider. Remember, my lord Fell, to send a rider to Ser Stanwell first if the battle turns against us. Once you secure the kingswood in the name of King Orys, send a rider to Stonedance. I'll ensure that one of my men will be stationed there and Sharp Point once Houses Massey and Bar Emmon are for King Orys. Send a rider to Castle Bywater if the matter's urgent."

Lord Fell nodded. "That will be done, my lord." He dipped his head politely to Stannis as Ser Narbert spurred his horse closer to them. "The false dragon won't have the Stormlands and the kingswood will be King Orys's shortly."

"Good," said Stannis, his grip tightening on the reins of his borrowed destrier. "We'll all do our duty and rid Westeros of the false dragon and his men."


The wind was strong, and the waters slightly choppier than usual. Tied to the biggest dock in Sharp Point's sole port, were four war galleys, each swaying from side to side by the wind. To Stannis's knowledge, the Bar Emmons used to own at least five warships, not four, but after a swift surrender, the plump and terrified Lord Duram Bar Emmon told him, "I was forced to give the false dragon my finest warship, the Swordfish, my lord. I had no wish to, but if I didn't promise him that warship, he would've had me killed!"

Four war galleys were better than none though. What had helped was that the Bar Emmon lord had already assembled his troop of soldiers under the control of Ser Yorgen Waters, his bastard cousin. Though Lord Bar Emmon claimed that he called his soldiers to solely defend the castle and the smallfolk on his lands, he'd willingly ordered Ser Yorgen and half the soldiers to join Stannis.

"The warships from Stonedance should be here soon milord," said Lord Davos quietly, touching the pouch around his neck.

"I know." Stannis's tone was hard. "The winds are favourable."

"If the wind remains favourable milord, we'll be at Dragonstone before dawn. If it comes to battle, we'll most likely be fighting at night time."

"A naval battle at night time?" Stannis frowned in thought. "Lord Duram spoke of the presence of sellswords, the false dragon and a Westerosi lord. Claimed the man is Lord Jon Connington, close friend of the late Rhaegar Targaryen. If Duram Bar Emmon's claim is true, then our journey to Dragonstone will not be easy. Ser Jon Connington is a seasoned commander and he would've most likely ordered a more secure and frequent sentry duty and strengthen Dragonstone's defence. Ser Loras Tyrell is there too," He darkened. "courtesy of Renly."

"No use blaming Lord Renly now, milord. Lord Renly is dead."

"Poisoned! By the Tyrells." Stannis grinded his teeth. He bore no love for Renly, but he was still his brother. "I'll ensure the Tyrells are severely punished for this. They'll receive no more mercy. I'll ensure it."

"And the Dornish, milord?"

Before Stannis could think about the Dornish, he spotted a war galley (another ship called the Iron Warrior) slowly approaching the dock, its white flags proudly bearing the red, green and blue triple spiral sigil of House Massey. Behind it were another half a dozen warships, all given by House Massey. It'd taken a few hours of difficult negotiating to convince the Massey brothers to side with the true king. Stannis loathed every minute of it. Not only was negotiating a waste of time, but it was House Massey's duty to send troops and ships in the name of King Orys the First, not take the opportunity to claim the castle and lands from each other. For all of House Massey's ships – save one – and soldiers, the elder of the two Massey brothers, Ser Justin, was named Lord of Stonedance (as was his right) whilst the younger, Ser Timor, was appeased with the promise of either a lordship or a rich heiress for a bride. Typical demands of a younger son of a noble lord. Both of the Massey knights were commanding war galleys – Lord Justin Massey commanding the Stone Soldier (now slowly moving beside the Iron Warrior) and Ser Timor on another war galley further back.

"I have a suggestion milord."

Stannis tore his eyes away from the warships to Lord Seaworth. "By chance, is it to do with your former occupation as a smuggler?"

Lord Seaworth hesitated. "Aye milord. Perhaps it would be easier and quicker if I smuggle a few strong fighters inside the castle? It might win us the element of surprise, milord. Might be faster than a long naval battle."

"I considered it, Lord Seaworth." Stannis gestured for his remaining troops to start boarding the Bar Emmon war galleys. "It'll depend on how well-fortified the castle is and who the guards are on sentry duty upon our arrival. If by chance the guards are those still loyal to King Orys, it'll be easier to…sneak in. I do not like a naval battle guided by moon light, but I rather our ships cloaked by the dark than be beacons of war to the false dragon's men."

"What of Driftmark, milord?"

"Vacant." Stannis began to follow some of his men onto the second war galley tied to the dock. "I was informed that Lord Velaryon and his son are both fighting alongside the false dragon somewhere in the Crownlands. Lord Seaworth, I want you to command the first warship," he said, changing the subject abruptly as the Onion Knight was about to follow him. The first galley carried at least a dozen or so strong warriors. Stannis vaguely remembered their names, but he knew that a good number of them were skilled with the sword.

As Stannis called for the warship to sail, he felt uncomfortable. In every battle that he'd participated in or led, he had time to think of a secure plan and discuss it with men he trusted. Now here he was, on a warship that was not his own and a host of men that included those who swore allegiance to the false dragon either out of loyalty or fear. As the ship was steered away from the dock, Stannis looked back at port. He saw Lord Duram Bar Emmon, still frightened like a young boy. It reminded Stannis of his own children, some he had not thought about for quite a bit of time. My duty to the king comes first – even before my children. Instinctively, he grinded his teeth. His possible son Robert was secure and safe at Storm's End, where Shireen was heading. As for Steffon and Cassana…he hadn't received word of where they were. Cassana would most likely be in the Eyrie. Steffon? Either he was safe with Cassana or readying for a battle.

The cold breeze hissed softly as it sliced at Stannis's hardened cheeks. The sun was almost completely gone and it would only be much colder at night. Standing on deck with his arms crossed, Stannis glanced around. The crew were strangers to him as much as he and the soldiers were to them. Strangers they may be, they were very efficient. Some pulled and pushed the oars in unison while others ran around on the two decks, completing their given tasks. The top deck was packed with soldiers, knights and other storm lords with a small number of dust-covered scorpions in the middle. It had been many years since the Bar Emmons needed to use their scorpions in a war – that was still no excuse for the lack of care paid to the machines of war.

The closer to Dragonstone the warship sailed, the more grim Stannis felt. Once he sailed to Dragonstone with the new royal fleet to capture the last Targaryens; now he sailed again, this time with a much smaller fleet to retake Dragonstone. It felt too familiar. Much too memorable. The only difference was that there was no ferocious storm to destroy the false dragon's sellsword fleet this time.

Stannis hardly moved from his position on deck as the galley moved closer to the island like a stray cat in the Red Keep creeping towards a mouse. The soldiers had also quietened, their previous chatter replaced by murmurs and the sound of the small sea waves colliding with the body of the galley. Night had long fallen – a slimmer of silver in the massive canvas of black guided the tiny fleet from deaths due to clusters of sharp rocks. As time rapidly rolled by, it was not until the hour of the wolf when Stannis caught sight of Dragonstone. He gritted his teeth. There were about fifteen – if not more – ships tied to the wharves of Dragonstone and a dozen soldiers patrolling around.

"Ready the scorpions," said Stannis quietly to the closest soldier. There was no way the war galleys would not be spotted. There were two choices: attack first or destroy the ships and trap the false dragon's supporters on Dragonstone. In both cases, the false dragon's fleet must be eliminated. Dragonstone harboured a flock of the false dragon's supporters…and captured Baratheon supporters.

There was a shout from the garrison. The soldiers on the war galley glanced at each other nervously.

"Now!" roared Stannis, striding to the closest scorpion. Grunting, he lifted up a long iron-headed shaft and inserted it into the scorpion. He hesitated as a soldier held out a lit torch. Fire can destroy enemies swifter than plain spears. It can also spread fast if uncontrolled. Foes will be wounded or killed as will those loyal to the true king and innocent civilians. Is it worth the risk?

As a man, Stannis would say no; Stannis the soldier?

Grinding his teeth, Stannis took the torch and lit the spearhead. He handed the torch to the soldier next to him who had prepared his scorpion. "Light them up," Stannis ordered, his fingers curling into a fist. "Aim at the garrison! Shoot on the count of three!" He took a deep breath and bellowed, "One!" He manoeuvred the scorpion towards the bustling and shouting soldiers near the docks. "Two!" With a quick look around at the other soldiers, Stannis shouted, "And three!" He pulled back the bowstring and released.

As the warships neared the Dragonstone docks, the soldiers' shouts turned to screams as the half dozen fire spears exploded on or around them.

Stannis closed his eyes for a second.

"Milord?" a soldier said tentatively. "Should we release more spears?"

Stannis opened his eyes and gazed at the fiery sight in front of him. Yellow and red flames hungrily ravaged the port and clung to the men's clothes and armour as they jumped into the water, desperate to rid themselves of burns. Sellswords, Reachmen, Baratheon men and even ordinary folk, none of whom are spared by the famished balls of flames.

His nails digging into his palms, Stannis nodded and uttered one word. "Yes."


Hi guys, sorry for the long break between the last chapter and this chapter! Sadly, I lost inspiration in Game of Thrones :( I watched the TV show again and was unhappy with the latest two seasons and I even read the books again (books were better than the TV show in my opinion). No inspiration. I personally don't like writing battle scenes, hence why they are so badly written, but I will continue practising them in this story :)

Originally, I planned to update this chapter alongside a oneshot I wrote, but upon reflection, I scrapped the oneshot. It was Stark centred and though House Stark is my favourite, I didn't really enjoy writing it. I already started writing the next chapter of A Dance of Spring but I'm eager to write other oneshots featuring families other than the Starks. I'm open to suggestions :) I'm interested to hear what rare pairings you like to read about or want to read about.