Stannis smelled the wind and tasted it and felt the fresh salty sea with no sign of land.
The "Fury" rocked and swayed slightly as she rode the playful waves of Blackwater bay, a strong northeast wind in her sails. The sea favored her and she was making good time.
Good enough time. For a galley, Stannis thought grumpily. Even with a favorable wind and the oarsmen rowing day and night it took his flagship no less than three days to get from Dragonstone to the capital. His present flagship, anyway… But she will not retain that status for much longer if all goes according to plan, Stannis mused as he listened to the faint sound of slow, rhythmic drumming leaking from below deck. Galleys have reigned supreme over the world for centuries, but the fastest and mightiest of them are quite slow and not really seaworthy. Too many men to feed, too much water leaking in during storms, all very well for coastal waters and relatively calm seas, but helpless against the open ocean. And it's high time for man to face the ocean and find out what lies beyond the edge of the known world. Soon enough, the 'Fury' and her kind will pass on into history and the oceans of the world will be ruled by bigger and better ships. Swift and agile, yet solid and reliable. Ships that will someday circumnavigate the globe.
My ships, Stannis said to himself contentedly.
Suddenly a wave larger than most hit the 'Fury'. She pitched and Stannis felt the cold spray of the sea on his face. He could almost feel the ship's displeasure at her master's faithless criticism. Wasn't he the one who built her the way she was? Didn't they fight and win many battles together?
Aye, me'darlin' Stannis thought, speaking silently to the vessel as she was once again riding steadily on the water. You've served me well, but men are reckless, you know. We need to be. It is the only way for us to stay alive. We need to cross oceans and climb mountains and see what lies beyond that next turn; to dive deep into the mysteries around us and break them down into pieces we can understand; to strive for perfection and reach for the impossible. Otherwise we start getting comfortable and complacent. And complacency is as deadly as poison.
His lip curled into half a smile as he wiped the cold, salty water from his cheeks and fixed his eyes on the endless grey waste of the Blackwater. The sea had somewhat calmed down after the storm, but the sky was still covered in thick grey clouds.
Not for long, Stannis thought as he watched a few seagulls, fat from a long and plentiful summer, ride the back of the wind, screeching happily and then settle down onto the water. That could only mean that the last traces of the long and cruel gale would soon be blown away and King's Landing would welcome the 'Fury' and her master with sunshine.
But what else might the capital welcome him with, Stannis wondered anxiously, turning his gaze from the horizon to watch two large white seagulls come down from the air and settle on the mast. An old sailor's sign of good luck. And Stannis was surely going to need all the luck he could muster.
Ned Stark had written that the king was very excited to learn of his brother's victory and awaits him eagerly, but Stannis knew only too well how changeable Robert's mood was. And how vindictive his jealousy could be… But unfortunately and rather ironically, facing the king's displeasure was the least of Stannis' worries. The real challenge was keeping the Targaryen girl's fate and whereabouts a secret. It'll be hard enough to convince Robert of Daenerys' death since he hates and fears the Targaryen just a little less than he hates and fears the Lannisters, Stannis thought with a nasty chuckle. Renly, Ned Stark and Pycelle shouldn't be much of a problem, but it will surely take all of his skill and experience to maneuver around Varys and Littlefinger. Without a doubt those two lizards would give quite a lot to know what Stannis knew of the last true heir to the Iron Throne and they have definitely sent word to their spies to look for her as soon as they'd heard of the dragon. The question is, what will they do once they've obtained that knowledge. Such a powerful leverage in the hands of such masterful players would take the Game to a higher level than ever before and open endless possibilities.
But what was their real game, Stannis asked himself for the thousandth time, turning his eyes back to the choppy, playful water stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was ridiculous to believe that either Varys or Littlefinger were merely serving the king and the realm as they claimed to do, no matter how seemingly convincing their actions were.
What in the world could the Spider possibly want that he didn't have already? It wasn't any of the usual things like more gold or power or respect, that much Stannis knew. Could seeing a new face on the Iron Throne be his end goal?
Ever since he arrived at King's Landing all those years ago, Varys'd been a staunch Targaryen loyalist and Stannis was convinced that both Robert and Arryn were fools to think he'd truly changed his allegiance. Even though Varys did everything in his power to prove himself faithful to his new masters…
"Why wouldn't he be faithful? " – Arryn had reasoned – "Everything the Mad King ever gave the eunuch we have matched. He is a foreigner, so he has no ties to either house. The realm, for which he claims to care so much, is at peace again, even more so than before…"
Why indeed, Stannis thought as once again he tried to counter the former Hand's logic. But, as always, there was nothing to be said against the notion, except that Stannis knew deep in his gut that Jon Arryn was wrong. Varys was too masterful a player to leave the smallest breath of doubt that every step he'd taken ever since Robert ascended the throne was for the new king's benefit. For seventeen years Varys had labored tirelessly to cement the realm and keep the very memory of the Little Dragons out of Westeros. And yet none of his or anyone else's spies ever managed to destroy them. Not even after the eunuch had very accurately listed all the good and logical reasons why it needed to be done. Strange for the Spider to miss a kill, almost unheard of. Strange for his spy to betray him, especially after being promised a full royal pardon… Too strange…
For years all Stannis could or really needed to do was reflect and wonder. But now that Daenerys is supposed to be dead or gone, has finally come a perfect opportunity to see if the intricate and shadowy road of the Spider was going the other way after all, Stannis thought deviously…
And as for Baelish… Stannis ground his teeth without even noticing as he thought of the man who was the most benign and yet by far the most dangerous member of the Small Council.
Grinding his teeth was a bad and, according to Selyse, very annoying habit Stannis'd picked up as a boy, who used to chew on quills as he concentrated hard on drawing a tricky map or solving a difficult mathematics problem. And Petyr Baelish was the most difficult problem Stannis had ever had and perhaps would ever encounter.
Smart and amiable, Littlefinger seemed like an ordinary clerk with an extraordinary ability to make money out of thin air. His reputation spotless, Baelish was friends with everyone who was anyone and always had a smile and a purse full of gold ready for anyone who needed them. A protégée of Jon Arryn, his rise to power was fulminant and, as even Stannis was forced to admit, rather well – deserved.
Unlike most men at court, he understood that gold was far more valuable when it was put to work and never let a single golden dragon sleep idly in the vaults. He bought and sold, speculated and schemed and within three years increased the crown's incomes tenfold. A figure that allowed to pay off at least the percentage of Robert's godless debts, assured the king's and the Hand's complete trust in the Master of Coin's loyalty and genius and made him indispensable.
But, as Stannis had the misfortune to know and understand, there was one problem with Littlefinger's cure – all policy, the same problem all panaceas have - they don't exist. All they are is smoke and mirrors, convincing just enough to cover up the truth…
Being the Master of Ships, in control of every port and vessel in the seven kingdoms, Stannis could naturally obtain all the information he needed on many of the Master of Coin's public and unofficial deals through transit and shipping details. Even contraband, thanks to Davos. And being deeply involved in investments and trade on his own little island for more than fifteen years, by now Stannis had a fairly good idea of what that brilliant bastard Littlefinger was actually doing. And unfortunately, there was no novelty or magic in his policies. He did exactly what his predecessors have been doing for centuries – squeeze the gold out of smallfolk, merchants, craftsmen and traders. But, unlike everyone else, Baelish went far beyond simply raising trade, shipping and import taxes like he first did in Gulltown. Oh, no! Littlefinger had developed a truly wondrous variety of intricate ways of conjuring up gold from thin air. He used the same money to buy and sell posts and favors, give and repay loans. He bankrupted entire households with lies and promises and collected immense interest along the way. But worst of all, he seemed to be quite frequently engaged in treacherous price – schemes that involved a select few foreign, mostly lysane, merchants and hurt the lesser lords, tradesmen and, most of all, the smallfolk of Westeros. Each one of them was bolder and more rapacious than the one before, but the last scheme must have truly been the pinnacle of the Master of Coin's short yet distinguished career.
Baelish'd bought grain at a low price when it was plentiful, secretly harbored it abroad almost for free and then imported it at a huge profit, when after two bad harvests, bread was scarce. Naturally, increased importing taxes and increased prices meant sky-high revenues for the crown and the other authors of the scheme. It also meant ruination and disaster for many merchants, tradesmen and, most of all, smallfolk, many of whom were on the verge of starvation. And as a result, the granaries were empty, both foreign and internal trade damaged and a good half of Westeros secretly up to their neck in debt.
There was little doubt that the ingenious and benevolent Master of Coin was doing his best to stay in favor with the crown, while slowly and wisely pulling the realm into bankruptcy. But the goals and reasons behind that intrigue were as mysterious to Stannis as the dark side of the moon. Was Littlefinger trying to fill his own pockets and establish a net of supporters, bound to him through debt? Very likely, but to what point and purpose? He couldn't possibly loan all those in need. Not even a tenth of them. So who was he really working for? There were two families who stood to gain most from forcing the better half of Westeros into debt. Two of the richest houses in the land that could credit the rest of it - Lannister and Tyrell. But why would either of them want to force so many reluctant alliances? Or take the risk of trusting Littlefinger and his methods? Why would they need to? How are they going to avoid default, famine and inevitable riots? What in the seven hells are they planning? And what exactly was the recent unexpected and risky tax raise for? Doubtless Baelish was the real mastermind behind it, Stannis thought angrily as he practically heard the Master of Coin's gentle whispers ringing in his brother's ears. Why are Littlefinger and those behind him in a hurry?
Stannis sighed heavily, then checked and rechecked the wind. If it should hold, they'll reach King's Landing by midday.
"Put her into the wind" – Stannis told the helmsman.
"Yes, my lord"
There could only be one explanation for all of the above, Stannis thought gloomily as he turned around and headed slowly off the bridge towards his captain's quarters, his head spinning with suppositions and arguments. If only he could find the center of the web, the intrigue would unfold right before his eyes… All he needed was just a tiny piece of information that would make everything fall into place. Preferably, obtained before his closest foe and most dangerous friend, as Stannis liked to joke, discovered Stannis' own little secret…
The faint sound of bells chiming midday accompanied by the stomach – turning smell of King's Landing's legendary sewers tickled Stannis' senses as he came aloft.
The "Fury" was floating lazily on the shoals just outside the harbor, her sails folded. The sailors were fussing around on the upper and lower decks, preparing to launch a longboat and lower the starboard anchor while the oarsmen were racking the starboard oars.
That could only mean one thing… Robert wasn't going to allow his detested younger brother to bring the dragon's head into the harbor and, Gods forbid, take it to the Red Keep through the city streets.
Let the games begin, Stannis thought to himself feeling slightly bitter, although he hadn't really expected anything else. Letting him parade the trophy through the streets all by himself was far too generous for Robert, who never acknowledged any of this brother's victories. Storm's End, Dragonstone, Fair Isle… every one of those difficult battles turned hard - won victories was crucial for the king's ultimate triumph. Robert knew that all too well. With each new achievement the Master of Ships became more vital and thus more dangerous to the crown and it's power. And Robert hated and feared his younger brother almost as much as he did Daenerys and Tywin Lannister and did everything in his power to hinder his position.
That's why he gave him that little spit of rock to rule instead of the vast and rich Stormlands, Stannis thought bitterly as he ground his teeth again. That's why he married him to Selyse, the stupid and ugly daughter of Ryam Florent, a lesser knight of one of the lesser houses of the Reach…
But, as always, the Master of Ships was fully prepared and rather eager to take on anything the king and the capital had in store for him. Because, treacherous and deadly as the Game of Power was and reluctant as Stannis was to admit it even to himself, he loved it. And he knew it well.
Growing up at court as a page and a close friend of Rhaegars, for years Stannis watched the best minds of Westeros, especially Tywin Lannister, play with the fortunes of the world, planning futures and shaping history.
And just like his royal and noble sworn brother, the better part of him had detested them for it.
Stannis smiled with the corner of his mouth as he remembered the countless days and nights he and Rhaegar had spent berating the powers that be for their guile and improbity, dreaming of a perfect world and planning to build it with time and sweat and honesty.
Two naive children without a bloody clue, Stannis chuckled as he walked slowly across the upper deck, enjoying the blazing summer sun on his face.
But if Rhaegar's idealism had always been complete and genuine, Stannis'd be lying if he didn't admit that there was a part of him that even then, so early on in his life, secretly enjoyed watching the games of the mighty and trying to think like they did. A darker side of his soul, which relished in the sheer genius of the players and yearned for the games to go on. A hidden thirst for power and danger…
For years Stannis hated himself for it and did his best to bury it deep down in the blackest and remotest corners of his mind. Until he set it free and let it guide him through danger and treachery, when the youngster he was eighteen years ago embraced the Game for the first time.
And now, as a grown man in a position of power, there were few things in this world Stannis found more thrilling or rewarding than playing the Game. Especially since he did his best to always champion the cause he truly believed to be right. The responsibility was crushing, the work was hard and defeat was painful and dangerous to many more than himself, but that made the fight even more fierce and victory even sweeter.
"Clifton, what in the Seven Hells is going on here?" – Stannis grumbled as he walked onto the bridge. Immediately, his first mate put down the Myrish Eye he was holding to his right eye and saluted the admiral – "I don't recall ordering a longboat launched"
"No, my lord. But the watchtower's signaled that by order of the king, you're to come ashore at the foot of the Red Keep" – ser Harvey replied with a barely detectable note of scorn in his deep, booming voice.
"So I see" – Stannis huffed as he looked at one of the towers, standing at the top of the steep, red rocks, guarding the mouth of the Keep's private harbor. A barely noticeable light was flickering at the top window, sending its message down to the water in the old language of the sailors.
Stannis took the myrish eye from Clifton and unfolded it. The bright midday sun stung his eye as it bounced off the restless water and into the ingenious system of lenses that could bring anything, even the stars, closer to its master. Invented by a myrish craftsman named Leven less than fifty years ago, the Far – Eye proved itself to be invaluable to scientists and sailors both. And could even be used for the disreputable purpose of watching certain things that normally no one was supposed to see as Stannis found out when he'd caught some of his officers peering into the windows of a few pretty court ladies…
As he raised his enhanced gaze form the water, Stannis saw that the dock was already filled to the brim with a colorful crowd of gapers. And more and more people seemed to be pouring into the harbor by the second, no doubt lured by rumors of the wonder aboard the approaching flagship. The air was almost visibly charged with excitement and anticipation and for a moment Stannis was almost glad he'd been spared the exhilarating, yet tedious task of facing the madding crowd.
Then, his gaze traveled far to the right, across the bay to the small, private beach at the foot of the Red Keep. It could only be used by members of the royal family and, to Robert's silent satisfaction, Stannis made a point to never ever set foot on it out of pure, spiteful principle. But an order was an order…
The secluded rocky shore wasn't nearly as crowded as the docks at the city harbor. Stannis counted ten rather blurred figures of men, wearing simple leather doublets rather than shiny armor. Northmen. A few yards in front of them stood a single solitary figure. There could be no mistaking the dignified, confident posture of lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King and Warden of the North.
Stannis cursed under his breath as he gave the far – eye back to Clifton and wondered if he'd been correct in estimating Littlefinger as the most benign, yet most dangerous member of the Small Council. And as the biggest problem he'd ever had…
"Lord Dragonslayer!" – Eddard Stark called with a genuinely happy smile on his long, solemn face as the longboat glided onto the rocky shore – "I am truly honored to bid you welcome, my friend"
Stannis ground his teeth and jumped out of the boat, silently hurling curses at the man. Honest, honorable, inexperienced at politics and not particularly bright, Ned Stark had been nothing but a damn nuisance ever since he set foot in capital. Not just because he was completely oblivious of the court games of blood and power and more readable than an open book. His innate nobility, genuine goodness and sincere ingenuousness somehow made it very difficult for Stannis to manipulate him. No matter how much he tried to detach himself and remember all the grief and injustice he'd suffered from Robert partly because of his affection for Ned, Stannis just couldn't help feeling guilty about playing the only good man in the capital. Far worse than that, he couldn't help feeling protective of the new Hand, as though he were a defenseless child thrown into a pit of vipers. Sentiments that Stannis could ill afford.
"My lord Hand" – the Master of Ships replied courteously as he walked out of the water and bowed – "Are you teasing me?"
"I wouldn't dare" – Ned replied genially as he waved his men to help Stannis' sailors beach the boat and get the enormous, honey - covered trophy inside – "I'm merely calling you by your new title. The King plans to grant it to you once you walk through the doors of the throne room and lay the beast's head before the Iron Throne. I cannot tell you how pleased he was, when we received the news…"
I bet he was, Stannis snorted quietly. How typical of his brother to grant a pompous, useless title and hinder where it really hurts. Another fact poor Stark was obviously blind to.
"… so was I" – Ned continued, eyeing the dragon's head curiously as the soldiers and sailors were struggling to get it out of the boat – "Although, I must confess, the head's a bit larger than I expected… Truly magnificent!"
There was no deceit or fawning in the Hand's voice. No ulterior motives or guile in his eyes. Just admiration and sincere happiness for a man he foolishly considered to be his friend.
Stark really is as pleased as if it were himself who had killed the dragon, Stannis thought with a pang of remorse and a silent curse, wishing to goodness Eddard had been one of the players. Somehow it was easier to live among vipers, ready and waiting to attack. There was no hypocrisy in the Game – kill or be killed and everyone knew it. Everyone, but Ned.
"Sweet of my brother to grant me such an honorary title" – Stannis replied ironically with a twitch of his lips – "Although I'd be a lot more grateful if he'd leave my fleets alone instead"
Ned let out a heavy sigh and lowered his eyes as the smile on his face faded.
"That, I'm afraid, he's not willing to do" – he replied gravely, forgetting all about the dragon's head that the men had finally managed to bring ashore – "He seems convinced that that extortionate tax scheme is the only way out of the predicament we now find ourselves in. I've done my best to reason with him, but he will not budge"
"Of course not" – Stannis grumbled.
And why would he? It was unheard of for Robert to consider any matter of state except planning tourneys and murdering Targaryens worthy of royal attention. Or to actually use his own head to solve a problem. Especially when there is such a brilliant little counselor as Baelish close at hand.
"Did he at least say anything about the tourney he wanted for his nameday?"
"Preparations as planned" – Ned replied grievously as he turned around and slowly started walking towards the Red Keep, gesturing Stannis to follow – "Grand and expensive as ever. And to make matters worse, he's ordered a grand feast to be held tonight. To celebrate the royal victory over the dragon"
"Royal, eh?" – Stannis huffed scornfully, his blood starting to race with anger.
"That is what he said" – Ned nodded with a sigh, looking rather embarrassed – "A feast today and a melee starting tomorrow. With costly prizes and the dragon's head on open display"
A demonstration of strength he doesn't have and cannot afford, Stannis thought spitefully.
"Well… maybe that's not all bad news" – he said outloud, trying to sound reassuring for some strange reason – "A melee with the head on display'll bring quite a crowd and hence a bit of gold. Both to the crown and to the tradesmen of King's Landing"
"Aye, that's what Littlefinger said" – Ned chuckled sadly – "But the celebration's too costly even with the expected revenues. We just cannot afford it"
"Aye" – Stannis shrugged his shoulders.
"Unfortunately, Robert doesn't see it in that light" – the Hand continued a bit resentfully - "He's dead - set on going through with his plans and apparently there's nothing I can say or do to make him change his mind"
What a bloody surprise, Stannis snorted to himself, rolling his eyes.
"I sometimes wonder why Robert chose me for his Hand if he doesn't listen to anything I say"
"Not your fault" – Stannis said reluctantly, not at all enjoying Ned's sudden and unwelcome show of trust and frankness – "Robert was never one to miss his fun as well you know"
"When I first arrived I couldn't fathom how Jon Arryn could've allowed the present crisis to happen" – Ned said gravely - Now I'm sorry to say that I'm beginning to understand"
No, lord Stark, Stannis thought silently as he shook his head. You're not even close to understanding. And I doubt you'll see your beloved friend for what he truly is before it is too late for you.
"The Mad King left the treasury chock – full of golden dragons, taxes were fair and incomes steady. For the life of me I couldn't understand where all the gold went" – the Hand continued as he and his companion slowly approached the gates of the keep.
The guards saluted the lords, but their eyes were fixed on the dragon's head that Ned's soldiers and Stannis' sailors were carrying behind.
"Neither could Arryn" – Stannis chuckled deviously, hating himself as he decided to reciprocate Stark's honesty and help him understand, if only just a little – "But Littlefinger might. And as for Aerys' gold… That, my friend, might be a very good question to ask Tywin Lannister"
"What?!" – Ned gasped in shock – "You mean, Tywin Lannister stole the Mad King's gold? And you know this for a fact?!"
"No, Stark, I mean that it might be a good idea for you to think about. Quietly and privately" - Stannis replied, cursing the Hand up hill and down dale.
"Of course" – Ned nodded knowingly. Stannis obviously knew more than he cared to share, but no one, not even the king could openly make such serious accusations without proof. Especially since it was the king's own father in law being accused of high treason – "Thank you, my friend. I'll consider what you said very carefully"
"Please do"– Stannis replied, hoping to fuck, Ned'd have the sense not to confront any of the Lannisters, especially Cersei. Or that he'd be there to stop him - "And I'd also like you to consider that the crown owed Lannister quite bit since Tywin'd paid off the Iron Bank with his own gold. It's one thing for a friend and the Hand to take such a burden upon himself. But after Aerys'd taken Jaime Lannister into the Kingsguard and Tywin'd resigned things were obviously different"
"Naturally"
"And war is a good time to settle any financial disputes"
Settle disputes… or annul them!
Stannis' heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him. So that's what Littlefinger were planning. War! For what? Power, naturally. With whom? Robert and the Lannisters were the obvious enemy. So, Littlefinger was most likely in league with Mace Tyrell. Wasn't house Tyrell one of the crown's biggest creditors? Weren't they Littlefinger's main trading partners?
It was so obvious, Stannis berated himself for not having figured it out straight away. So that's what the entire intrigue is about! A coup d'etat! The Tyrells and Littlefinger force half of Westeros into debt and offer their debtors complete financial freedom in return for their support. Naturally most would accept such an offer since everyone knows they won't get any leniency from the Lannisters and most men would rather commit treason than starve. Thus the conspirators will have secured an army that Randyll Tarly could lead to victory.
But who were they planning to overthrow, Stannis wondered as he walked beside the Hand through the courtyards, galleries and corridors of the Red Keep, hardly acknowledging the excited stares and endless compliments of household knights, lesser courtiers and even servants.
The thrill of wonder and victory was just as thick and electric at the palace as it was at the harbor and before Stannis knew it, a large crowd was following the dragon's head as their party made its way to the Great Hall and the Throne Room. Usually Stannis would've shooed them away since he didn't enjoy all the fawning, flattery and adulation. But today was special. After all, no one in Westeros had seen a dragon or even a part of it for years. And he was too caught up in the Game to notice the crowd or to care.
Was it just the Lannisters the Tyrells were after or both them and Robert? Doesn't really matter since either way Robert would be a mere pawn. Without the Lannisters, he has no real power. And he isn't a threat. If Tarly were to meet Robert in the field, he'd surely win. If Tywin Lannister were to do so, the outcome would be equally undoubtful. So, just like Arryn, both parties would obviously put Robert well away from the commanding tent and on the front lines, where he belongs.
But if Tarly were to take the field against Lannister, even Stannis wouldn't hazard a guess as to the outcome. And it wasn't just the outcome of a hypothetical battle he was uncertain of. The Lannisters and the Tyrells were a match for each other. In influence, money, cunning, strength, marshal prowess… everything!
That's why at least one of them will inevitably turn their gaze to me, Stannis thought with an excited and satisfied smile, feeling his heart pounding wildly against his clothing. That's what Littlefinger's tax and fleet scheme is about. None of the captains in Westeros are a match for me on the sea and I could beat both Tarly and Lannister on land. Especially with the other one at my side. So the conspirators will either try to destroy me completely or weaken my position just enough for me to be open to negotiation. But since Littlefinger is way too smart to actually believe that I'd stay with Robert until the death like Ned Stark…
"Pardon?" – Stannis jumped as he realized that their party had finally stopped in front on the enormous oak – and - metal gates of the throne room Stark and the was staring at him expectantly.
"You're not listening to me, are you?" – Ned asked with a smile.
"Forgive me, my lord, I…" – Stannis replied, trying to focus on the present.
"It's all right. I'll leave you to it, then" – Stark said genially, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder.
"Where're you going?" – Stannis asked, lifting his eyebrows in surprise as Ned turned away and headed towards the side door, which led to one of the galleries in the throne room.
"I told you, you're going in alone. I don't care what Robert says, I'm not claiming credit for anything I didn't do" – Ned replied and quickly disappeared behind the small door.
Damn Stark and his bloody honor and damn Robert, who doesn't deserve his loyalty, Stannis grumbled to himself as he stood in front of the beautifully decorated doors, waiting to be announced.
And damn me if I don't at least try to help the man avoid the upcoming overturn. He'd never have the brain or skills to come out dry from that swill. Especially if the Tyrells are working for Daenerys. They'd always been staunch Targaryen supporters, so they'd naturally be the first she'd turn to.
Was it possible for her to be the main force behind that intricate and masterful plot, Stannis wondered looking perfectly calm, even indifferent, but feeling no less exhilarated than the men around him.
Is that why she flew all the way from Meereen so suddenly?
What a woman, Stannis thought, feeling almost aroused as he imagined the gorgeous and brilliant princess at a secret parlay with an emissary from her long lost home. Was she really so brave and foolhardy to believe she could take both Slaver's Bay and Westeros? Or was she planning an escape after she understood her cause in Slaver's Bay was hopeless?
Probably neither, since she clearly didn't expect to land in Westeros. Not just Dragonstone, but Westeros, he countered, remembering how shocked the girl was to hear the word 'maester' and trying his best to calm down. Perhaps her coming just at this time was a remarkable coincidence. And in life, coincidences do happen… and are sometimes known as fate…
Finally the enormous heavy doors opened with a loud rumble. A thick and heave silence hit Stannis' ears as it rolled out of the throne room and quickly covered every corner of the keep. His muscles tensed as he felt hundreds of keen, curious eyes, staring at him from every corner of the vast and beautiful throne room. And suddenly he felt like the scared and shy seven year old boy he was when he entered that room for the first time.
"Remember, lads, move calmly and slowly, don't look around and kneel three yards before the steps" – lord Steffon had told his sons as he patted their heads and straightened their little doublets.
Stannis' lips twitched into a sad little smile as he remembered himself trying to walk slowly and keep up with his father at the same time as they made their way towards the Iron Throne. How funny he must've looked. He could see the courtiers smile and whisper among themselves out of the corner of his eye, but he was too scared to turn around and look at them. He was too scared to look up, so he kept staring at the floor, trying to seem invisible. Until something he barely noticed out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A strange and twisted little scull standing on a small plinth. It was long and thin with black hollow slits for eyes and long milky – white fangs. And then another one, and another, each larger than the last. Stannis' little heart stopped beating as the realization hit his brain. Dragonskulls!
All his life he'd been mad about dragons, devouring dragonlore books as soon as he could read high valyrian and making his grandmother the princess Rhaelle tell him stories about them over and over again. And now that he was finally looking at the live, stony legacy of Old Valyria, nothing else in the world existed for him. The throne, the crowd of courtiers and his father's instructions were all far away and completely forgotten… But then a sudden and sharp hit of Robert's elbow brought him back to the present.
Jumping with fright, Stannis realized his father had stopped right in front of the enormous platform steps and he'd almost bumped into his back.
Emboldened and curious, Stannis lifted his eyes to the top of the platform. And what he saw was even more impressive and breathtaking than the enormous dragon sculls and the shining golden armor of the Kingsguard, standing on both sides of the staircase. Grand and ominous, the Iron Throne overhung the room like a twisted, ugly and asymmetric monster made of spikes and melted metal. And on its seat was the most regal, majestic and stately man little Stannis had ever seen. Or seen since, if he was being honest.
Garbed in fine yet simple red leather that clung closely to his tall and strong frame, the man seemed to radiate innate power and calm majesty. His head was bald, except for the thick and bushy golden side-whiskers, his features handsome and finely – cut. His cold, gold – flecked green eyes oozed shrewd intelligence and seemed to penetrate the soul and strike fear into the heart of anyone who was unfortunate enough to appear before them. He wore no crown or any kind of distinction, but there could be no doubt that he was the king. Because that is what kings look like, thought little Stannis as he remembered all the stories and legends he'd ever heard.
For a moment he and Robert stood silently behind lord Steffon, expecting him to kneel, but, strangely, he didn't.
"My lord Hand" – lord Steffon said with a courteous bow.
Hand?! Stannis gasped quietly not quite believing his ears. So this was just the Hand and not the King himself?! Feeling completely taken aback, he looked helplessly at Robert. But he seemed to be unmoved by the busy staring at the Kingsguards glittering armor and beautiful longswords.
"Lord Baratheon" – came the deep and soft, yet none the less powerful voice of the Hand as a barely detectable smile appeared in the corners of his mouth – "I am pleased to welcome you to the capital, my dear friend"
"Thank you, Tywin. I'm very happy to see you again. It's been way too long" – Steffon replied. Stannis couldn't see his face, but somehow he knew that his father was smiling.
"It has indeed" – the Hand said as he got up from the Iron Throne and started walking down the high stone steps. His movements soft, confident and graceful.
When he finally came down, he embraced lord Steffon warmly.
"You're not alone, I see" – lord Tywin said and the corners of his mouth curled up even more as he looked down at Robert and Stannis – "So these are the young men who are to serve as the king's new pages"
"Aye" – lord Steffon smiled proudly.
"This is Robert, my heir" – he said, placing a hand on Robert's shoulder.
"You like the Kingsguard's armor young man?" – lord Tywin asked genially.
"Yes" – Robert answered rather absently as he gave the Hand a quick glance and turned his gaze back to one of the guards. A great, strong man, whose name as Stannis later discovered, was ser Gerold Hightower.
"Would you like to serve as one of them one day?"
"No. I don't want to serve" – the lad replied rather defiantly – "I want to fight"
"Hold your tongue! How dare you?!" – lord Steffon snapped angrily.
"I see your heir takes after you, my dear Steffon" – lord Tywin replied with a strange look little Stannis couldn't quite interpret, but later understood to be irony – "How many times have you refused to serve on the Small Council?"
"Quite a few" – Steffon shrugged his shoulders, looking completely embarrassed.
"And this is young Stannis, I take it" – the Hand continued, turning his piercing gaze to the boy. Stannis shrugged as the cold green eyes met his own – "Last time I saw you, you were still in your cradle. Do you find the Kingsguard as unappealing as your brother does?"
"No, ser… I mean, yes ser…" – the lad stuttered meekly. A quiet giggle rumbled through the crowd of courtiers and echoed through the room. Stannis felt himself blush as lord Tywin lifted an eyebrow at him.
"I like the Kingsguard, but I like the dragon sculls better" – he explained, looking shyly up at the Hand.
"Interested in dragons, are you?" – Tywin asked searchingly.
"Yes, my lord"
"My mother is to be thanked for that" – said lord Steffon, rolling his eyes – "Always telling him stories of great dragonlords and their unbeatable beasts"
"Hardly surprising for a Targaryen" – Tywin replied with a barely audible chuckle.
"Dragons aren't unbeatable" – Stannis blurted out suddenly forgetting himself, his fear and manners completely carried away on the wings of his favorite heroes. Both men looked down at him in surprise and little Stannis went beetroot as his father's face became stern and angry. He looked down meekly, feeling utterly ashamed of himself and praying for the floor to miraculously open up and swallow him whole.
"You think so?" – the Hand asked searchingly – "The seven kingdoms were conquered with dragonfire and kept together with dragonfire"
"Forgive me, my lord, but six kingdoms were conquered with dragonfire" – Stannis answered quietly, not daring to look up and face the Hand's intense gaze – "Dorne was never conquered by any of the dragonlords"
"That is correct" – said Tywin as he placed a finger under Stannis' chin and lifted his eyes - "And why do you think that is?"
"Because they were too smart to fight Aegon's armies and dragons openly. And they knew how to use their lands to their advantage" – the boy replied, his heart caught up in his throat, not knowing what to expect and afraid he might've said something wrong. But to Stannis' astonishment, the Hand smiled and nodded his agreement.
"Never ever hide that face again, boy" – he continued, letting go of Stannis' chin - "This one's the smart one in the family, eh, Baratheon?"
"It would seem so" – lord Steffon chuckled.
"I want to be like him!" – Stannis thought breathlessly as he continued to stare into the lord Hand's eyes, once again forgetting all about the throne room and rustling whispers of the courtiers – "One day, I want to be like him…"
But the dream of Tywin's deep, gold – flecked eyes and the happy years the young lordling'd spent at court melted away as the present – day Stannis Baratheon finally stopped his slow and dignified motion towards the Iron Throne. Exactly three yards before the first step. Just as his father had done on that first day. Just as he himself had done countless times in another life, another world, remote and far away. A world where Rhaegar was his friend, Aerys his king and Tywin Lannister his secret idol. A world long gone… shattered to pieces by vile mistakes, terrible stupidity, unforgivable treachery and inhuman cruelty. Some of which were his own…
Stannis sighed heavily as all the thrill and excitement he felt only a few moments ago disappeared, making way for helpless longing and bitter regret…
He sank on one knee, staring blankly onto the high stone steps of the platform and listening to the endless buzzing of the lazy and curious court.
After all these years everything around him seemed to stay the same and yet completely different. The steps were no less high, but they looked bare as there were no dragon sculls to flank them. The Kingsguard's cloaks and armor were the same, but the spirit of that old, honorable order was long since dead as there were no true knights left in it. And, finally, the Iron Throne… Grim and majestic as ever, but the man on its seat was so much lesser than the one Stannis'd seen on that first day. A great doughy lump, cursed with stupidity, numbed with indifference and stunned with wine…
Oh, gods, how did we end up here, Stannis groaned silently, lifting his eyes to see the king's face and feeling a rush of excited whispers erupt from the crowd of courtiers as the dragon's head was placed on the stone floor behind him with a dull thud.
To his surprise, there seemed to be a pleased and proud smile on his brother's face. His back was straighter than usual and his posture stronger and more regal than Stannis'd seen in a long time. To the king's right stood the New Hand, smiling as happily as he did on the beach. Behind him were the rest of the Small Council. To the king's left stood Joffrey, the bastard heir to the throne. And next to him Myrcella, the sweet and gentle girl, who Stannis wasn't really opposed to calling his niece. Her pretty little face lit up with innocent curiosity and her little hand clutching the plump fingers of her younger brother Tommen, who seemed to be afraid of the beast's head. The queen, however, was strangely absent.
"Your grace!" – Stannis heard himself say, his voice sounding odd and distant as if coming from afar– "I have the honor to present to you the head of the dragon, killed in your name by the soldiers and sailors of Dragonstone. May their sacrifice bring peace to the realm and glory to its rightful leader"
"Indeed it will, brother. Indeed it will" – the king replied solemnly – "Their sacrifice shall be honored and remembered for as long as men have voices to sing. As shall be every triumph of good and righteous men over the vile beasts and those who dare to ride them!"
Exactly who is he referring to as good and righteous, Stannis though indignantly.
"May the fallen rest in peace an honor. It is my wish that their families shall know no want for anything for as long as their lines will last…"
That goes without saying, Stannis huffed. But you won't lift a finger for them since you know I've already taken care of that, will you?!
"It is also my wish that every injured soldier shall be granted a pension, which will allow him to live out all his remaining days peacefully. And that every man still in the ranks be granted a knighthood if he is not a knight and lands to come with it"
The knighthood is all very well and the land is even better, but where exactly is it going to come from, Stannis chuckled deviously. I don't have any more rocks to give away, so it'll most likely be Renly's. Now that is good news indeed!
"And finally" – Robert continued with a slight nod and a jolly wink – "To you, my brother and my admiral, I, Robert of the house Baratheon, first of my name, the rightful king of the andals and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm do hereby grant the title of 'Dragonslayer'. To be worn proudly and hailed across the land for as long as you live"