GETHIN ANTHONY SAVES WESTEROS

Part 1 – CATELYN STARK

"By the will of their lords, my son reigns as King in both the North and the Riverlands," Catelyn said with perhaps too much pride in dealing with the obviously over hidebound Stannis. "He bends the knee to no man, but his hand is held in friendship to those deserving of it," she offered.

"Kings have no friends," Stannis asserted, outright rejecting the compromise. "Only subjects and enemies."

"And brothers," the more familiar, and cheerier, voice of the younger Baratheon teased from behind her; by way of announcing his arrival on the grassy, tree stump strewn sward.

Catelyn shifted her horse sideways so that she might watch both self-professed kings. The newly appearing one looked far more regal and splendid from the crown atop his thick black hair, past his handsome face, over his green velvet doublet and satin cloak, down to his gold stitched leather boots.

And unlike Stannis who had brought a Red God priestess for a banner bearer, pretty Ser Loras, an actual knight, carried the twelve lance whose tip bore rippling in the sea brought winds the vision of the crowned stag prancing on a field of black on gold.

"Lord Renly," the older brother greeted the younger brusquely.

"Stannis, Stannis, Stannis, if you wish to be King, you really must do better than this," Renly chastised with quiet amusement. "Your poor taste in clothes the realm has long since come to expect, but this crown? And your banner? Whom do you expect the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to think you are?"

"I am their King," Stannis responded with gruff certainty.

"The King has taken the fiery heart of the Lord of Light for his sigil," the crimson clad, overly sensual priestess proclaimed with righteous satisfaction.

Renly mock slapped one hand to his forehead. "And you have forsaken the Seven? If you win the Iron Throne, brother, were you only intending to keep it for a fortnight? Even Aegon the Conqueror gave up his Valyrian faith and he had dragons."

"The throne is mine by rights," Stannis began to rant before being cut off.

"Yes. If Joffery and Tommen truly are bastards."

"What?" yipped Catelyn.

"You must forgive, Lady Catelyn, Stannis. And myself, as I have not shared your interesting letter with her. I assume you sent copies to the Riverlands. But, as you can see, Robb Stark's envoy has been traveling."

"Explain yourselves," She nearly snapped.

"None of Cersei's get are by my brother's seed. They are bastards and worse; abominations born of the vile sin of incest," Stannis contemptuously detailed.

"A notion I first scoffed at," Renly stated in his easy manner. "Where is the proof of it, I asked myself. Until I remembered of the fall young Brandon Stark took in Winterfell. Where were Cersie and her brother that day, I wonder?"

Catelyn's eyes widened in shock. Her breath stopped cold in her chest. And she near swooned in the saddle.

"And then the contemptible assassin's ill-fated attempt to silence the boy permanently," he continued.

"Jon Arryn and I were investigating my suspicions of the Lannisters' treachery when he mysteriously took ill. The Hand did not die by happenstance, but by poison," Stannis added with bitter disgust.

Gulping in air, Catelyn forced herself to speak. "My sister Lysa sent a secret letter to me in Winterfell with the King's baggage. She accused the Queen of killing her lord husband."

"A-ha!" Renly ejaculated. "That explains why you grabbed the Imp when you had the chance."

"Foolish of you," the other brother seemingly contradicted. "Cersei despises Tyrion and he her."

"Impressive of you to notice how siblings feel about each other, Stannis," Renly smirked.

"In the Eyrie, Lysa then laid the murder at Tyrion's feet."

"Convenient," Stannis muttered.

"True. Yet as much as the Imp hates Cersie, he oddly loves his brother more. What might his devilish little mind be willing to do to keep the Kingslayer safe and the name of House Lannister unstained? Regardless the exact truth, I believe the three of us agree that the Lannisters and their cadet branch bearing the name Baratheon must be removed from the Game of Thrones. Permanently."

Catelyn controlled the powerful impulse to point out that her son was in fact the only one of the three kings doing anything about it.

"If you have a proposal, Renly, make it," Stannis demanded in an exasperated tone that Catelyn suspected he had been using on his brother since Renly first learned to speak willfully. "You asked for this parley. Not I."

"Though I have the far larger army you will never bend the knee to me, will you?"

"Never."

"And if I led my gallant knights against your … sailors; and you died, even if not by my own hand, I would be named Kinslayer."

"Undoubtedly."

"Not an auspicious omen for the start of kingship. Yet if I rode away this night, and in the morning, brave Ser Loras here led the charge, no stain would be attached to me, would it, Lady Catelyn."

She could not see what game he was playing at. Frustrated, she answered. "No. A few might lay blame at your feet; most would not. But the Lannisters would chortle with glee. They are the true enemies here."

"Agreed and agreed," Renly said with a smile. "And what of you, brother? Would you see me dead? Would you lead your army from out behind its walls to attack me?"

"I am no Kinslayer," Stannis announced with disdain.

"If truth be told, though I never liked you, Stannis; I find neither am I," A rueful smile on that smug, handsome face; quickly replaced with the normal amused grin. "A rare something the two of us can agree upon. Yet, have I not put my years of knowledge as Master of Law to excellent use and discerned the hole in the convention."

A snort of disdain from the older brother at the younger's braggadocio; then, a begrudging, "Perhaps."

"Ser Loras, swear your oath as a knight that you will by neither deed nor word seek the death of my brother."

For the first time the Knight of Roses opened his mouth. "Before the Seven, I swear by mine honor that I shall not seek the death of Loo… Stannis Baratheon by either my blade nor through command of any army granted to me by my Kiii … betters."

"See how easy that was, brother. Now your red witches turn."

"What?"

"Let us hear her oath, sworn to this R'hllor that you seem to have become so enamored of."

"Melisandre."

"The night is dark and full of terror. Do not allow the beguiling words of the Great Other sway you from your path," the beautiful, copper haired priestess asked with barely a hint of pleading in her voice.

"I am more concerned with shadows than the dark," Renly snickered, which caused a flash of surprise to appear on the foreign lady's pale cheeks.

"Your oath, my lady," the older Baratheon demanded.

A grimace clenched those ruby lips a moment before they started moving, "As Azor Ahai commands and in the light of R'hllor who shall bring peace to the world, I shall not seek by deed nor word the death of Renly Baratheon so long as my King lives."

"Tricky, tricky," laughed Renly. "'My King.' Ha! Excellent addition. I don't suppose you would have your witch resay her oath without that last bit, would you, Stannis?"

Teeth grinding in that iron jaw was the only response given.

"To be expected," he sighed in resignation.

Never-the-less, Catelyn felt a glimmer of optimism at the progress, slow and admittedly odd, between the brothers. And, with Renly's next words, she surprisingly found her hope growing by leaps and bounds.

Then, "Now hear my demands, Stannis, that you might hear me call you 'My King.'"

"My liege," Ser Loras gasped in obvious surprise at the possible turn.

"You may make no demands, Renly. The throne is mine by rights. Robert's only children are bastards and I am his eldest brother," Stannis' voice rose in thunder.

Nonplussed by the display, Renly continued, "I believe you repeat yourself, Stannis. Now I can depart with half my army and continue on to King's Landing whilst the other half, o'er twice the size of yours, sieges you as you siege Storm's End."

"Or you can hear my modest demands that will peacefully bring all those Reach and Stormland lords in camp behind me to your side."

"Please, let him speak, I beg you," Catelyn pleaded, hope faltering and a desire to knock the two spoiled, stubborn brothers' heads together rising in its place.

"I will not be threatened."

Renly rubbed his brow in evident exasperation before turning purposefully towards Catelyn. "Pray tell me, my lady, when negotiations come with your son, will he know the difference between a demand and a threat?"

"I will not be mocked. I will not!" Stannis barked; hand shifting dangerously close to the sword at his side and the breaking of the rules of parley.

"Then show the wisdom of a King and learn to listen to those who would be your banners," the younger snapped back with something approaching sense.

"Peace," Catelyn cautioned.

"For the sake of our parents, I will listen. But if it be more foolishness," which by his tone Stannis clearly expected to be the case, "then I shall be gone."

After the pronouncement, silence lingered in the gathering dusk; as if the heavy sea laden air were afraid to give proof to the premises and promises already spoken.

A cocksure smile pierced the gloom. "First, enough of this nonsense with the Red God. I do not relish fighting both Cersei and the Faith. Worship this R'hllor in private at your leisure, but remove that ridiculous crown and change your sigil back. I pray we will have no concern after tonight with men-at-arms getting confused that you and I fly identical banners."

"My king," the red priestess protested.

"Silence," he commanded her.

The smile widened. "Second, by 'rights', as you have no male born children, Stannis, 'I' am 'your' heir. You must promise to sire no future true born children. Not on Selyse. And not on any queen who may follow Selyse."

"Clever," Catelyn realized; twelve years of marriage between Stannis and his Florent wife with only one, poor greyscale struck daughter to show for it.

"You would still be King," Stannis snorted suspiciously.

"In due time, brother. In due time."

"Go on."

"Third, Mace Tyrell or whoever he wishes shall be your Hand."

"That fat fool! Who ate while we starved?!" The accusation and memories were still bitter and raw leaving Stannis' thin lips.

"Watch your mouth, my lord," Ser Loras snarled in near challenge of his father's honor. At least his hand did not stray near the blade in his belt.

"My goodfather must see some immediate reward for the unexpected lengthening of my sitting the Iron Throne; and his grandson after me. And Paxter should be made Master of Ships as well, don't you think," Renly breezily suggested.

More teeth grinding met the demands, but no outright no.

"And speaking of children. To finesse the thorny issue of the King in the North, my first born son and first born daughter shall marry the first born son and first born daughter of Robb Stark."

Another long silence as Stannis Baratheon's tight face and hollow checks heated crimson hot. "By the Gods!" he finally exploded in rage. "You dare speak of children! Have you even touched your wife!? I know whom you prefer to touch and you expect me to refrain from seeking an heir!?"

"Then tell me what you fear, brother? You have been far from profligate. Where exactly is your bevy of children, true or natural born? If my sweet Margaery is not pregnant within a year, then on my honor I will allow you to revise our bargain."

Again, more teeth grinding, but no outright refusal.

"And as I promised my son Robb's betrothal to the Freys, so do I promise the future match of his children to House Baratheon for a tangible peace that sees the Lannisters destroyed," "and my daughters returned to me," Catelyn quickly interjected. She instinctively knew no smarter, more beneficial deal than this could be gotten with these two brothers who so clearly loathed each other.

"I am King of the Seven Kingdoms. Seven," Stannis obstinately declared.

"And you are, brother. This King in the North is but a … what I called when I was Master of Law, a 'legal fiction.' Robb Stark will return to Winterfell. The First Men have always been weir and a bit independent in their Gods forsaken North. And once he is there, the Riverlands will return to your flock of realms. No additional blood need be shed. We shall conquer them with marriages and children much quicker than the Targaryens ever did to Dorne with the sword."

"What assurances have I that you will abide by such terms Renly, if I agree? If?"

"Beyond my word?" the younger brother asked with a touch of fake hurt pride.

"Ha! Yes!"

"You may keep Ser Loras as hostage for my good behavior."

"Renly," the Knight of Flowers called out with a plethora of emotion wrapped up in the one short word.

"You are serious, Renly," Stannis exclaimed in near disbelief.

"But I require a hostage of mine own."

"Who?"

"Her," Renly said and pointed straight at the Red Priestess.