YEAR 299 AC
On the shores of Dragonstone…
Nightfall descends upon the ancient island fortress of Dragonstone, where a red comet is seen shooting across the open skies. Standing upon the eponymous island bearing the same name in Blackwater Bay, Dragonstone was once the ancestral seat of the exiled House Targaryen. Due its advanced Valyrian design, the castle of Dragonstone was extremely difficult to breach and a small garrison stationed there could easily holds its own against a vastly larger force.
On the beaches, an old maester, Cressen, was seen running towards the center of the area holding a lit torch. As he arrived at his destination, an assembly of soldiers cladded in dark armor bearing the sigil of House Baratheon enclosed in a fiery red heart stood alongside their lord watching the religious idols of the Faith of the Seven burn. In front is a beautiful voluptuous woman with fiery red hair and red eyes, wearing red robes and a red gold choker with a large ruby around her neck. She was a priestess, but not of Westerosi origins; for her when she began chanting her accent was of Asshai from the Free Cities of Essos. To her followers, she was known as the red priestess Melisandre.
"Lord of Light, come to us in our darkness," she prayed. "We offer you these false Gods. Take them and cast your light upon us. For the night is dark and full of terrors."
"For the night is dark and full of terrors," the assembled knights said in unison.
The religion being preached was known as the faith of R'hllor or alternatively known as the Lord of Light, a deity widely worshipped in several of the Free Cities of Essos described as a "fire god". The Lord of Light is almost unheard of in Westeros; it was completely foreign to all but those who practiced the faith. Cressen reaches the group and hands his torch to another man, winded from his run.
"After the long summer, darkness will fall heavy on the world. Stars will bleed," Melisandre continues.
Cressen turns to first person standing beside him, Ser Davos Seaworth. Originally a poor commoner, Davos was a crabber's son and an infamous smuggler, often piloting his black-sailed ship into harbors in the dead of night and navigated through treacherous shallows. Davos eventually came into House Baratheon's service during Robert's Rebellion by sailing a small boat past the Tyrell blockade surrounding Storm's End through Shipbreaker Bay and smuggled a shipment of onions, beef, pork and salted fish to Lord Robert Baratheon's younger brother Stannis and his men, who were starving under siege by Lord Mace Tyrell and the Redwynes.
The food allowed Stannis's men to hold on until Lord Eddard Stark arrived to lift the siege. As a reward for this service, Stannis knighted Davos, giving him choice lands on Cape Wrath and allowing him to choose Seaworth as the name of his new house. However, also as a punishment for his years of criminal activity as a smuggler, Stannis personally "shortened" Davos's left hand, cutting off the first joint from each finger of his left hand. Despite this, Davos found Stannis's ruling fair and just, and kept the bones of his severed fingertips in a pouch around his neck as a lucky charm.
"We need to stop her!" Cressen beseeched to Davos.
Davos held his hand up. "Not now."
"…The cold breath of winter will freeze the seas," the red priestess continued, "and the dead shall rise in the North."
Cressen had enough and walked forward, interrupting Melisandre. "All you men were named in the light of the Seven!" he yelled. "Is this how you treat the Gods of your fathers? Are you so eager to spit on your ancestors?"
After a long silence, Melisandre approaches Cressen and caresses his face. "You smell of fear," she spoke softly, "fear and piss and old bones. Do you want to stop me? Stop me."
After a moment, Cressen begrudgingly stood aside.
"In the ancient books," she continued, "it's written that a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. And that sword shall be Lightbringer."
Melisandre walks over to the Lord of Dragonstone standing before her, Lord Stannis Baratheon. The middle of the three Baratheon brothers, Stannis is a seasoned warrior and an accomplished military commander who served on the Small Council as Master of Ships to his older brother the late King Robert I Baratheon before leaving the capital to return to his stronghold. A brooding, puritanical and humorless man, Stannis possessed a harsh but fair sense of justice. He believed the world should be just; that somehow the world should be just and the consequences of justice would be that the order would be carried out.
As a warrior, Stannis will always fight for what he believes in even if it meant being the first man on the battlefield and the last one to leave. Stannis gained the respect of his men during the rebellion when he held Storm's End with only 500 men whilst the castle was under siege from Targaryen loyalists by land and sea for almost a year. He and his men avoided starvation by eating the horses, cats, dogs and rats before Davos's arrival. He still remained slighted at being stripped of his right of inheritance to Storm's End by Robert when his older brother claimed the Iron Throne, knowing full well that their youngest brother Renly was only a boy at the time and never fought a day in his life.
Regardless, insult or no, Stannis's sense of duty and loyalty compelled him to give up his rights to Storm's End.
"Stannis Baratheon, warrior of light, your sword awaits you," Melisandre points to the sword embedded in the flaming statue.
Stannis approaches one of the burning effigies as everyone else looks on. He pulls a sword out from the base and carries it high, to applause. When he sticks it in the sand, the crowd kneels.
"Lord, cast your light upon us!" the crowd proclaimed.
"For the night is dark and full of terrors," Melisandre prayed, looking to Stannis.
The Lord of Dragonstone stood before his troops, speaking up. "For the night is dark and full of terror."
Stannis then walks away, almost forgetting to bring his wife with him. The rest of the crowd gets up to leave moments later. Davos and Cressen stay behind a moment to talk.
"This woman will lead him into a conflict with the King," Cressen warns.
"Maybe," Davos suggests. "But what happens here is between Stannis and his nephew."
"You really think the Oathkeeper will accept what happened here?"
"I don't like it, either, but I serve Stannis."
"As do I, but loyal service means telling hard truths. He's surrounded by fools and fanatics, but he trusts you, Davos. And he's the King's uncle. If you tell them the truth…"
"He's already received a raven from King's Landing. No doubt the two will have much to say to each other once they meet."
At King's Landing…
Daveth could hardly believe it had been over a year since he ascended the Iron Throne. Over a year since he became Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. His formal styling had, of course, expanded following his eighteenth nameday, when Eddard officially transferred the title of Protector of the Realm to him and returned to his duties as Hand of the King.
It had been a long year. And in the course of that year, Daveth had hit the ground running.
His first task was eliminating the Iron Throne's financial debts to House Lannister and the Iron Bank. It was, by no means, an easy one. He spent months calling in favors, negotiating new trade deals, cracking down on investors, and overseeing the full repayment of all outstanding debts, but ultimately got the job done. At the same time, the Young Stag ordered construction on a new sewage system, keeping his word to his contacts living in Flea Bottom. When the construction period came to an end, King's Landing smelled cleaner and looked brighter then it had ever been.
All that remained was to prepare for the coming winter. That meant filling the royal coffers, checking the stores of grain, and waiting for the day the various maesters scattered across Westeros officially declared the ten-year-long summer over. A day that finally came when a raven sent from the Citadel arrived with a message for Grand Maester Pycelle.
"It arrived only this morning, Your Grace," Pycelle said as he and the other members of the small council followed Daveth through the halls of the Red Keep. "After considering all the reports, the Conclave has declared this great summer done at last. The longest summer in living memory."
"The peasants say a long summer means an even longer winter," Varys chimed in.
Petyr maneuvered his way to the front of the crowd, handing Daveth a scroll containing the latest report about the provisions. "As it stands, Your Grace," he said indifferently, "we have enough wheat for a five-year winter. If it lasts any longer than that…"
"Then we will lack the necessary crops needed to keep our people fed and find ourselves facing a serious food shortage," Daveth concluded. He looked up from the report, turning to the Hand of the King. "Lord Stark, were you able to send word to Winterfell before this came in?"
Eddard nodded. "I did, Your Grace. Maester Luwin has informed me the stores will only suffice for the same number of years."
"More reports like this are coming from seemingly everywhere."
"What was that, Your Grace?"
"Nothing, Lord Stark," Daveth said before addressing the councilors as one. "If we're lucky, my contacts should be able to secure the necessary provisions within the next several days. For now, you're all dismissed."
Eddard stayed behind while the other members of the small council took their leave. Both he and Daveth now stood in the Great Hall, the latter gazing at the Iron Throne.
"Hard to believe it's been more than a year already," the Young Stag remarked.
"Not many rulers tend to have the luxury of time on their side," Eddard said with a smile. "Those who prove fortunate enough, however, often find themselves becoming sentimental."
"Did you just take a jab at me, my Lord Hand?"
"No, Your Grace. I assure you it wasn't. You've been working from dawn 'til dusk dealing with the Crown's debts and had almost no time to yourself. I still wonder how you managed to pull it off so quickly."
"I have my ways," Daveth said, almost deflecting the question. "In any event, we need to fill the treasury so the people won't starve or freeze. Here's to hoping the negotiations come through in our favor."
Eddard raised an eyebrow. "What negotiations?"
"My contacts have been meeting with merchants from the Free Cities of Lys and Myr," he explained. "They've been asking for a decent bargain. Provided the merchant lords of Essos don't cheat us, the realm might get what it needs in terms of grain and bushels."
"But why not the Reach?"
"We've heard no word from Highgarden," Daveth said, "or any of the noble houses of the Reach. No raven or riders. I find it to be rather odd."
"Why wouldn't Highgarden send word?" Eddard wondered. "It doesn't make sense."
"None of this makes sense, Lord Stark. But this sudden silence is making me a bit uneasy. And I want to know why."
At the Tower of the Hand…
Sansa had been in her room sewing with her friend Jeyne Poole, threading a needle through silk and leather as she hummed a melody. More than a year had already passed since she had arrived at King's Landing with her father and sister. During that time, she had already blossomed into a beautiful young woman with a more slender, womanly figure; growing up a bit more mature since coming to the capital, Sansa took a moment to learn more of court intrigue; while she did prove to be a bit of a slow learner—which irritated Daveth to no end—she learned, nonetheless. That alone was enough to satisfy Daveth before he left to either attend another Small Council meeting or settle minor trading disputes.
While she was humming, Sansa groaned as she felt an uncomfortable cramp in her belly. She'd been having these bouts randomly, looking back as to how it happened.
ooOoo
When the sun rose and shone its light into her room, Sansa had been sleeping but felt increasingly uncomfortable. By the time she awoke from her dream, Sansa felt something wet and pulled off the sheets. Slowly lifting up her nightgown, Sansa looked down and saw blood staining her dress as well as the sides of her thighs. She whimpered at first, never having experienced anything like this before, but knew what it meant: she's flowered. In her haste, she picked up a wet cloth and repeatedly scrubbed the mattress, trying to get it cleaned up.
"Hey, hey, hey. What are you doing?" Eddard spoke as he entered his daughter's room, taking Sansa's hand before finally noticing what she was trying to clean.
"Father, if the Queen Mother sees this… I can have Daveth's children now," Sansa explained.
Eddard sent for some handmaidens to clean up the mattress, but what he failed to notice that among them was one of Cersei's maids, Bernadette, who immediately rushed to the Red Keep to inform the Queen Mother. Despite his best attempts to stop her, Eddard was stopped by Sandor Clegane, and both Cersei and Daveth are informed. By that time, Sansa was already sitting next to Cersei Lannister.
"Your mother might have prepared you," Cersei explained. "You flowered, my dear. No more."
"My mother told me, but I… thought it would be different," Sansa confessed.
"In what way?"
"I thought it would be less… less messy."
"Wait until you've birthed a child," Cersei stated. "You're a woman now. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"I'm fit to bear children for the King?" asked Sansa.
Cersei gave a wry smile. "A prospect that delighted you, I can see. I will not fault you for that. The idea of bringing little princes and princesses into the world, it is the greatest honor for a queen," she said as she began reminiscing the first time she gave birth. "Daveth was the most difficult. He almost killed me. Even his birth... I labored for nearly two days trying to bring him into this world. You cannot imagine the pain. I screamed so loudly, I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood."
"His Grace was not with you?"
"Robert?" she scoffed bitterly. "Robert was out hunting. That was his custom. Whenever my time was near, my royal husband would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. And when he returned, he would present me with some pelts or a stag's head, and I would present him with a baby. Not that I wanted him there, mind you. I had Grand Maester Pycelle, an army of midwives, and I had my brother. When they told Jaime he wasn't allowed in the birthing room, he smiled and asked which one of them proposed to keep him out." Cersei stopped for a moment, looking out of the window before returning her gaze to Sansa. "Daveth will show you an even greater devotion than Robert did with me. You could thank him for striving to be a different kind of man than his father; no doubt he's already told you the stories. Robert shamed and humiliated me, but Daveth will do no such thing to you. He's seen what I had to endure. You love the King, I can see that, but you remember to love his children."
"I love His Grace with all my heart," Sansa professed.
Cersei sighed, knowing full well that the feelings were genuine. "That's so very touching to hear," she said as she shifted in her seat. "Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll do things for them that you know you shouldn't do. You'll act the fool to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice."
"There's always a choice, Your Grace. I can choose to love Daveth, and our children as well."
A half-smile flickered across the Queen Mother's face. It would appear that the gentle Sansa has developed a spine.
"I see a bit of Daveth's influence has rubbed off on you," she suggested. "Very well, little dove. I won't deny you that, but in the end love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. Or… it would kill my son."
ooOoo
The conversation with the Queen Mother unsettled her, but at least Sansa got some insight as to what to expect. She was also informed that since she's flowered, the plans for the royal wedding would now officially begin; something which allowed her to smile when Princess Myrcella exclaimed with glee that she was excited she was going to have a sister. Joffrey was being himself as always, occasionally hurling rude comments which always ended with Daveth shouting and asserting his dominance in case the lesser Baratheon didn't get the message. Sansa resumed her stitching as she began putting on the finishing touches on the new outfit. She held it up and examined closely.
"I hope Daveth likes it," she sighed. Sansa put a great deal of effort into making this new outfit for him.
"You're worrying too much, Sansa," Jeyne reassured her. "The King will like whatever you offer him."
"Maybe. Still, I can't help but feel a bit anxious. Ever since the royal wedding was announced, it's all I could even think about."
"So… When's the big day?"
"I don't know. It's mostly being done in secret. My betrothed told me he'll send word once it's done."
The two girls laughed as they continued to share secrets, talk about the upcoming wedding all while munching on some freshly baked lemon cakes. But little did she know, trouble was soon brewing and was about to complicate things…
In Daveth's chamber…
Daveth couldn't stand it any longer. He had spent the last two hours poring over the latest reports from the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the Free Cities. Two hours of plans and provisions and goddamn commerce negotiations. Unfortunately, no matter how much the Young Stag wanted to retire for the evening, he knew a King's work was never done.
"Let me through, you fool! I have to speak with the Oathkeeper immediately!"
"I'm sorry, but you cannot barge into His Grace's chambers whenever you like."
Daveth looked up as the door burst open and Bodrin stumbled into the room, two Gold Cloaks following close behind with their swords drawn. He got to his feet, nearly stumbling over himself as he made his way towards the King.
"What in Seven Hells is going on?" Daveth demanded slightly irritated.
"It's Lord Renly, Your Grace," Bodrin replied. "He's called his banners, taken up arms against you, convinced the Reach to join forces with him. He's—"
"He's what?"
"He's declared himself King of the bloody Seven Kingdoms."
Chapter End
Author's Note: This chapter officially begins Season 2, and the introduction of Stannis Baratheon himself along with the red priestess Melisandre. And Renly's rebellion has now begun! How do you think the Oathkeeper will respond to this familial betrayal? Let me know what you'd like to see in the next chapter.
DaddyChad: For some reason when Daveth got told about Renly's treason I imagined the scene from star wars where Palpatine stands up and says "It's treason, then"
―That's exactly what I was thinking! :D
Moshi: Why did Olenna allow this idiocy?
―She was clearly against it from the beginning, but couldn't do anything due to her status despite her political prowess. Remember what she said on TV, "It was treason. I warned them," [...] "How could [Renly] possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? We should have stayed well out of this if you ask me, but once the cow's been milked there's no squirting the cream back up our utters. So here we are to see things through." Olenna clearly didn't hold her son Mace in high regard and occasionally called him a ponderous oaf. It's possible that she has something up her sleeve if things do go south.
Seraph: Oathkepper should prepare for war and stannis should be loyal
―No doubt Daveth will personally travel to Dragonstone himself to ensure his uncle's loyalty and enlist his aid.
Vulcran Stormblade: Stannis wouldn't rebel he's as loyal and hard headed as a certain wolf that claimed his sister's son as his own so that his best friend wouldn't kill it.
―No doubt Daveth will personally travel to Dragonstone himself to ensure his uncle's loyalty and enlist his aid.
Shikyo no Kyoufu: He's going to come down like a hammer. From what I've seen so far from him he isn't the type to pussy foot and let something fester. I'm not sure what Mr. Zero personality is going to do so I'll wait until I start to speculate.
―No doubt Daveth will personally travel to Dragonstone himself to ensure his uncle's loyalty and enlist his aid.
Patty 4577: Now Renly has made his move. Though I can't tell what are you intending for Stannis.
―Next chapter will reveal it.