Dragonstone might have been a Targaryen stronghold for centuries, a seat of an ancient and noble house, but it was a cold and dreary place. Perhaps with the presence of dragons, it was once warmer and far more impressive. A single keep on the entire island with only one town gracing its shores, in the height of the Targaryen's power it was a flourishing trade port between Essos and Westeros brimming with wealth and diverse people. But now it was just a rainy, sad island that Stannis Baratheon was "gifted" after his brother's rebellion while his younger brother was given the title of Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
A disappointing blow to the elder brother for sure, but he had grinned through the humiliation.
But now? With Robert dead, with the evidence Ned Stark gave him right before his untimely death? Well, now the Iron Throne was his by right, not those bastards from house Lannister. A far greater prize than Storm's End could ever be.
A fact only proved more by the presence of the Red Priestess, Melisandre. He was truly lucky that the holy woman had graced his family with her God's presence. The Lord stood with his wife by his side and his men at his back as she encircled the wooden statues of the Faith of the Seven that he had collected from the Sept on the Island, eyeing the false Gods with mirth on her face that the Stag King silently reveled in.
"Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness," She cried into the air. "We offer you these false Gods. Take them and cast your light upon us!" At her words a small group of men carried torches over to each of the statues and set them ablaze, slowly distorting the faces of the Seven Gods so many in the Seven Kingdoms pray to. "For the night is dark and full of terrors."
"The night is dark and full of terrors!"
Stannis straightened his back at the cheers of his men, watching as the young religious leader sauntered her way towards him, "After the long summer, darkness will fall heavy on the world. Stars will bleed. The cold breath of winter will freeze the seas. And the dead shall rise in the North-"
Melisandre paused in her sermon when the Maester Cressen rushed out of the crowd and glared at his Lord's bannermen, "All you men were named in the light of the Seven! Is this how you treat the Gods of your fathers? Are you so eager to spit on your ancestors?"
The redheaded woman smirked at the old man, "You smell of fear," Her small hand gently caressed his face. "Fear and piss and old bones. Do you want to stop me? Stop me."
The Maester stayed silent as he faced off against the Red Priestess, their eyes in a clash before he sighed and stepped back into the crowd. Stannis shook his head at the man's foolish interruption, surely he knew that the Lord of Light had helped his Lord's family far more than any of the Seven ever could.
"In the ancient books, it is written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. And that sword shall be Lightbringer. Stannis Baratheon..." The Lord of Dragonstone clenched his fist as she stopped in front of him. "Warrior of Light, your sword awaits you."
He steeled his mind and walked past the burning Gods, stopping in front of the Warrior as he eyed the flaming sword dug into the fighter's chest. He raised his arm and wretched the steel from the chuck of wood, it's burning blade a shining beacon for his followers. His men cheered and applauded as he approached them with the blazing weapon held above his head before he sheathed it into the sand of the shore and all around him knelt.
"Lord cast your light upon us!"
The corner of his lips turned slightly as Melisandre addressed the crowd once again, "For the night is dark and full of terrors."
The Stoic Stag nodded his head as the woman faced him once more, "For the night is dark and full of terror."
He spared the crowd one more glance before he walked from the ceremony, motioning towards his wife who loyally rushed to his side. He ignored the heated gaze he felt from the old Maester as he followed the steps up to the palace, hoping to continue his plans uninterrupted. It didn't take long for the crowd to thin and his loyal men meet him in the room of the Painted Table for his council meeting. The beginning of the meeting had been swift and orderly but now Stannis sat annoyed as the scribe next to him read out his planned letter for the Realm.
"And I declare upon the honor of my house that my beloved brother Robert left-"
"He wasn't my beloved brother," Stannis cut over the scribe. "I didn't love him. He didn't love me."
"A harmless courtesy, Your Grace," Ser Davos Seaworth explained as he tried to diffuse the unnecessary tension in the room.
The Baratheon scoffed, "A lie, take it out."
The scribe scratched out the sweet words and continued his read, "That my brother Robert left no trueborn heirs. The boy Joffrey, the boy Tommen, and the girl Myrcella being born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her brother, Jaime Lannister."
"Her brother, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer," The Stag spat. "Call him what he is."
The scribe scribbled again, "And her brother, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. By right of birth and blood, I do this day lay claim-"
Stannis shook his head, "Make it Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Whatever else he is, the man is still a knight."
"Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. By right of birth and blood, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. That all true men declare their loyalty."
The King nodded his head in agreement to the words, "When Eddard Stark learned the truth he told only me. I'll not make the same mistake. Send copies of that letter to every corner of the Realm from Arbor to the Wall. The time has come to choose. Let no man claim ignorance as an excuse."
The Onion Knight shifted in his seat, "Your Grace, the Lannisters are the true enemy. If for the time being you could make peace with your brother-"
"I'll not make peace with Renly while he calls himself King," He snapped.
"Well, many have already declared for him," The lowborn man pointed out. "Mace Tyrell, Randal Tarly."
"Stannis does not need to beg this Lord or that Lord for support," Melisandre chimed in. "The Lord of Light stands behind him."
Ser Davos shook his head, "And how many ships has the Lord of Light got in his fleet?"
The red woman smirked, "He has no need for ships."
"I'm sure he doesn't," The knight agreed. "But we do if we're going to war. If nor Renly, Your Grace, join forces with the Stark lads. They're seeking justice like you."
"Who'd most likely steal the Northern half of my Kingdom?" Stannis guessed. "I've always served thieves according to their deserts as you well know, Ser Davos. Joffrey, Renly, the Starks: they're all thieves. They'll bend the knee or I'll destroy them."
"I owe you an apology, my King," Maester Cressen called out as he rose from his seat amongst the silence. "My duty is to serve. You have chosen the new God over the old Gods, may the Lord of Light watch over us all." The old man raised his glass, "Shall we drink together? A cup of wine to honor the one true God?"
He walked slowly around the table to Melisandre's side, watching the woman with a smug look on his face. Stannis waited as the red woman glanced towards the cup while she stood and watched the Maester drink from it before gently accepting the offered spirits. The men in the room joined in the toast, but the Stag King frowned as Cressen started to convulse as blood poured out of his nose and mouth. The elderly man collapsed to the ground and everyone jumped from their seats as the healer slowly choked to death on his own blood.
The Priestess stood over the dead body as she drank the rest of the poisoned wine, "The night is dark and full of terrible men, but the fire burns them all away."
A loud knocking from the door drew the ear of the people in the room and they watched as a page for the now-dead Maester burst open the doors with a raven scroll clutched tightly in his hands, "Your Grace, a message from the Starks."
"I'll read it later, we have other pressing issues," The Lord of Dragonstone brushed off the man as he motioned to two servants to collect the Maester's body.
"It requires your immediate attention, you must read it," He pressed harder.
Stannis sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair, but motioned for the scribe to read the apparently important scroll aloud, "Go on, Matthos."
Matthos scanned the scroll and his face paled before he recited the words. Stannis tensed in his seat at the head of the table when he heard the words regarding Lyanna Stark and her apparent marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen. If that was true then Eddard's bastard was a trueborn Targaryen and a threat to his claim to the throne. He sneered as the young man declared the Iron Throne as his birthright, even though the Baratheon's had won the succession through Targaryen right on conquest before he was even born. Who did that Northern whelp think he is compared to a true High Lord of Westeros?
"My king," Stannis turned his head slightly as Ser Davos spoke up from the deafening silence. "If what that says is true, then what should we do?"
"By right of conquest, the Targaryens were separated from the throne. We will take care of the Northerners and their Dragon pretender once we are done with my younger brother," The other men at the table nodded their heads in agreement as their King declared himself against the pretenders of the throne.
"A dragon is fire made flesh," Melisandre mumbled as she glanced at the letter Matthos still clutched in his hand. "And the blood of a dragon would make a wonderful offering to the Lord's rightful warrior."
"The Starks are honorable men," Davos called over her fanatic talk. "Robb Stark will not take kindly to us going against his kin, who may chance be a trueborn Targaryen."
"That is not our problem," Stannis snapped. "They want a Northerner on the throne and are spreading lies like wildfire to make it happen. I will not fall for it."
"But, Your Grace-"
"I will hear no more of this, Ser Davos," Stannis spat out as he glared at the smuggler turned knight.
The loyal man sighed but followed his King's orders as he rose and left the room, trying to ignore the shame he felt rolling off of his son as the young man watched him leave. He knew Stannis was enraged but he wished his King would listen to reason rather than his anger...and the red woman's words. Having no allies was not a smart move and the Stag King was ignoring his chances to make them. Hopefully, when they met with Renly soon they would come to some sort of agreement, they were brothers after all. Though in reality, it was unlikely, the two brothers were as different as night and day.
A giggle nearby made the knight pause in his steps and he turned to see a small body hiding behind one of the stone pillars in the hall. Black hair swung in the air as a small girl with a stone-like mark covering part of her face peeked her head around her hiding place.
"Princess Shireen."
"Ser Davos!" The young girl rushed from her spot and into the arms of the older man. "I knew you'd be back."
"I wasn't gone that long," He muttered as the girl pulled away from him slightly. "But I have something for you." Stannis's daughter squealed as she watched her favorite knight pull a small book from his tunic, "The merchant said it was an interesting read."
Shireen beamed as he gave her the small gift, "The History of Aegon the Conqueror, oh it looks wonderful." She flipped quickly through the book, skimming the pages for pictures. "There's sketches of dragons! Oh, you must read it with me."
The knight quickly shook his head, "You know I can't, Princess...Haven't the time. Perhaps Matthos can."
The Princess sighed, "He's always busy now. And mother said I shouldn't get in people's ways. She wanted me to stay in my room."
"Your room?"
"Yes," The young girl absently agreed as she and Ser Davos started walking in time with each other. "But I saw a man run past my doorway with a raven scroll and I got curious. So I snuck down here."
"You shouldn't sneak around the Keep if your mother told you to stay," Ser Davos chided her.
Shireen glanced up at the man with her deep blue eyes, "I'll head back, I promise. I just wanted to know how my father was doing. He hasn't visited in so long."
"Your father the King is well," The Onion Knight assured her as he led her up a small stairwell back to her chambers. "He just received worrisome news."
"What news?" The girl wondered.
"The Starks claimed a man as their king and wish him to sit upon the Iron Throne," He told her truthfully.
"Is he a Baratheon?" Shireen asked.
They paused in their walk as Davos wondered how to answer his Princess, "No, but he might still have a claim to the throne. And that worries your father."
"Only the Targaryens would have a claim," She stated. "Is he one?"
"One what?"
"A Targaryen."
Ser Davos scanned the hall and leaned closer to the young girl's ear, "He might be."
"Then he should have the throne, not father," Shireen innocently said.
"If only the world was that easy Princess," The knight sadly whispered. "Now come on, let's get you back before your mother worries."