Strength of the Realm Found in Bonds: Stannis and Renly (293 AC)

Stannis and Renly Baratheon arrived together at the Small Council chambers to find both room and table empty, as they had hoped they would.

"Skulking about like the Spider doesn't suit you well, does it, brother?" Renly jokingly jabbed at Stannis.

"It's an ugly, but necessary course," Stannis griped. "But yes, I would rather not follow Varys's example."

After all, while what they had to discuss between themselves and their anticipated guest was a topic they knew warranted the time and attention of the Small Council and the King as a whole, the personal implications of the subject at hand were something they wanted handled privately.

"And yet, you want to be Robert's Hand after Jon passes," Renly noted. "You would have to do far more deals in the dark than you do now as Master of Ships, so why desire it?"

"Because then I could force men to make their business public, and not bury the truth in some muddy Flea Bottom alley to be forgotten or dug up later at their convenience," Stannis nearly ranted.

"Careful, brother," Renly jested. "You're starting to sound like an optimist, and that is not the kind of man your wife married. Or is it that she'd be saddened that she's not alone anymore in seeing this side of you?"

"At least I have a wife to confide in, and a child upon whom to pass my legacy," Stannis retaliated. "All you have ever had are a string of dalliances whose sole saving grace is that none of them could bring about bastard spawn to shame us all."

Renly's face grew hot with anger, but the attack cut deep and forced him to hold himself from responding in like fashion and worsen his current state.

But before he could issue a scathing retort of his own, his and Stannis's attention was stolen when the doors opened again, this time allowing their awaited invitee to pass through.

"Stannis! Renly! Good to see that message you gave me wasn't a joke after all!" Strength enthused from the high spirits she was on from playing with the Royal children.

The Royal brothers shared a quick and dirty look that only family could communicate before shifting to the business at hand.

Renly greeted her first, a slight bow in acknowledgment of who she served. "Yes, thank you for coming, Strength, and so quickly too!"

Stannis nodded in a bowing pantomime, and said his hello. "It is good you are here, Strength. This talk is too important to joke about."

Strength crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, the gesture made more comedic by her diminutive stature being overshadowed by how she wore her folded gauntlets on her back like a very oversized travel pack. "Not like I could tell. One of you wouldn't know a joke if it bit him on the ass and the other spends so much time joking around that the moment things get serious he stops functioning."

With both brothers admonished into quick silence, Strength strode over to the table, shucked off her gauntlets next to the Hand's chair, reconfigured them so that one hand was like the seat of a chair and the other was its back, and then sat at the table.

Strength leaned forward with folded hands. "Now, you two said you wanted to talk to me, and only me. So what could possibly warrant talking to me about that you couldn't discuss with the Hand, or the King?"

"We didn't bring you here to keep a secret from them," Renly explained, "but rather it's a subject that we felt should be brought to you first, before we discussed it in the next Small Council meeting."

"Oh?" Strength leaned back. "Trying to get me on your side for the next meeting?"

"We need to discuss how to handle inheritance regarding Dolls," Stannis stated.

Strength's face suddenly seemed haunted. "Oh."

"Strength," Renly pressed forward. "It has been ten years now since your Awakening, and in that time hundreds of Dolls across Westeros have followed in your wake, and uncounted thousands more across the world. Each and every of those Dolls is made civil solely by the Bonds they forge with whatever random person happens to make them Awaken, by means and for reasons that neither man nor Doll can explain. And when those Bonds are severed, they go mad."

Strength rested her head on her hand, her eyes staring off into the many memories of the violence she has had to witness, endure, and perpetuate because of those Dolls' grief-stricken insanity.

"Granted, all of the Severed were the result of the Bonded being violently killed, but what happens if the Bonded falls to illness, or old age?" Renly continued. "Will the Doll just meekly seek out a new Bond if she doesn't have another one, turn monstrous like any other Severed, or go Dead-Eyed again?"

Strength weighed her head in her head as her eyes looked off into memories of the violence she witnessed, endured and perpetuated because of the numerous Severed she had to personally put down to prevent even further death and destruction.

Renly still wasn't finished. "There's also the fact that, as soon as a Doll becomes part of a highborn House, or even just a smallfolk family, she effectively becomes the deciding factor of who will be the head after the last one."

"Yes, Renly, this is a serious matter, and I'm glad you appreciate it," Strength ground out. "But could you skip the meandering rambling and get to the fucking point already."

"Who will be your Bonded after Jon Arryn passes away?" Stannis questioned.

Strength snapped her focus to Stannis, a look of pain and fury etched into her face.

"Talk, Stannis, before I break your jaw."

"Jon Arryn is your Bonded, and in any other case, your tie to his House would be undeniable," Stannis explained. "But you have also been serving effectively as the foremost agent of the Crown ever since Robert's ascension, and that is how the Realm perceives you. Furthermore, you have clearly Bonded more closely to the children of the Royal Family than you have to the rest of House Arryn – everyone with eyes and ears in the Red Keep knows it.

"To put it another way, is your Bond to House Arryn, or to the Iron Throne?"

The anger melted from Strength's face, but the pain remained, mingling now with confusion and contemplation.

"I- I- I don't know. I'll have to talk with Jon about that."

"That's alright," Renly assured. "But we needed to impress the severity of this position you're in, because your decision will have repercussions across the Realm. Because the issue of inheritance of Dolls has begun to rear its head, and it could cause widespread chaos if we do not establish a lasting precedent."

Strength looked to Renly with eyebrow raised. "What have the ravens brought you two?"

"Lord Justin Herston has taken ill," Renly revealed, "leaving no immediate heirs to his House or to Bronze Crawler, which sits very close to the Stormlands' border with the Reach, and the last thing the Stormlands or the reach want is one of the Mounted Dolls becoming a Severed where it can wreak havoc on two Kingdoms."

"And I received a message from Ser Hubard Rambton," Stannis unveiled, "and he is in dire straits because he plans to have his eldest son be head of his House after him, but the House's Doll, Burning Shield, is closely Bonded to his second son first, his third son second, and refuses the first at every opportunity she can. He wants the crown to weigh in on the matter in his favor and I would like to, but too many situations these days are unprecedented, and it would give us all great comfort if the First Doll of Three were to establish such a precedent."

Strength carried her head in her hands as she appeared to be deep in thought.

The two brothers shared a look between each other, as they both wondered what exactly she was thinking.

She sat back abruptly, drawing their eyes back to hers. "Thank you both for bringing this to me. I will talk to Lord Arryn about your concerns, as well as the King, and then we will address it at length at the next Small Council meeting."

The two men stood from their seats and bowed shallowly.

"Thank you," they intoned together.