"Lord Lomas could have sent some sailor to carry the news, but instead, he came to you in person, grandfather. He was a good man."

Stannis nodded. "Indeed he was. Do you remember anything from when Allard Seaworth started his holy war? You were still young. Allard, that traitor. The Fight for the Seven, he called it. Dubbing himself the Sea Storm King. Crowned by that outlawed septon, the High Sparrow. Ridiculous. Many of the smallfolk flocked like birds to this High Sparrow and his false king. Unsurprising. Fools love a fool."

Aglantine poured a drink for her grandfather. Cool, clear water. He drank nothing else. No wine or fine juices. Though a proud king of royal and noble blood, Stannis exhibited modesty with the way he lived, outmatched in history only by Baelor the Blessed. "Vaguely. I remember father bidding me farewell and sailing westwards to join your ranks. He once told me that the betrayal of House Seaworth hurt you terribly."

Stannis accepted the goblet and drank just enough to quench his thirst. "Allard Seaworth betrayed me. I cannot blame the younger brothers for following the elder. I did that myself when Robert rebelled against the Mad King. One's loyalty to their brother comes before their loyalty to their king. Those are older, more ancient laws"

Stannis and Aglantine sat on cushioned benches in the corner of the hall. "Back to my original point. Lord Lomas. He urged me to be tolerant to the Faith. He said that defeating Allard would be easy if he lost the support of the smallfolk and the Sparrows. I remember him saying, 'you can challenge kings and lords, but you cannot challenge the gods people take'. I had to publically disavow the Red God, not that I ever was a fervent believer of Rh'llor, but my action upset your grandmother."

"They say Allard killed his older brother, Lord Dale. Did he?!" Aglantine had no siblings, no uncles or aunts from her mother's side. She had few Baratheon kin. Aglantine liked her mother's bastard cousin, Ser Gendry Goldbull, Commander of the Gold Cloaks and Defender of King's Landing. He was always the first to greet her whenever she came to the Capital. Her father was the Viper. Her uncle Doran was the Grass that hid the Viper. They worked together. They always did. So, the idea of familial rivalry was foreign and incomprehensible to her. She considered it an intriguing plot used to spice stories. But history does not lie. Brother fought brother on a number of occasions.

Stannis fell silent, his face revealing nothing. He looked at his granddaughter and nodded slightly, "a tale for a different time. Now, my bones ache and my body needs rest. I must sleep. I will see you in the morning, Aglantine. You should sleep as well. You have a duty to your body". Leaving her in the Great Hall, Stannis marched to the upper chambers. It was intended for use by royal guests; an elaborate room of puffed and bright colors, much to Stannis's dislike. The Old King repeatedly demanded his granddaughter to tone down the extravagance but to no avail. The girl did not budge to demands, not even those of the King. Aglantine had all the fiery spirit of the Martells, especially on the battlefield. The soldiers in her army call her Nymeria Reborn.

"Good night, grandfather."

As Stannis climbed those stairs, words of Allard Seaworth came to him, ringing in his head. "You did it to, did you not King Stannis?" Stannis shook his head and went on to his bed chamber. Nothing haunts an old man more than the words of the dead.

320 AC, 17 years after the end of the War of the Five Kings.

The King and His Small Council:

Monarch: King Stannis Baratheon

Hand of the King: Lord Davos Seaworth

Grand Maester: Pate of Hornvale

Master of Whisperers: Lord Lomas Estermont

Master of Laws: Lord Justin Massey

Master of Coin: Lord Erren Florent

Master of Ships: Ser Dale Seaworth

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Edric Storm

Years of peace had not made Stannis soft. Stannis had right the wrongs suffered in Westeros, hanging half a dozen Lannisters in the process. He restored the Starks to Winterfell, the Tullys to Riverrun, but the foreign faith he followed soured any popularity he may have had with the smallfolk.

Stannis entered the Small Council Chamber with an authoritative step many have come to know him for.

"My Lords."

The present members all stood from their seats out of respect for their king and only sat down once the king himself sat. The Small Council was missing two members, Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King and Lord of the Rainwood, and Erren Florent, Master of Coin and Lord of Ravenglass, who was away managing the rebuilding of Summerhall.

"Ser Dale, will your father not be joining us?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I have not seen him all morning. With your permission, I will go and fetch him in person."

"Stay. We can have our meeting without him. Nonetheless, it is unlike your father to be late. Grand Maester. Do we have any news from Lord Erren?"

"Yes, Your Grace. The rebuilding of Summerhall is going well and Lord Erren expects the 2nd phase to be completed by the end of the year."

"Good, any other news."

Ser Dale spoke up, "We are still waiting for Forrester Ironwood, needed for the new fleet."

"It has been two weeks already. What is taking this much time?"

"There are no decent streets from Ironrath to the King's Road, Your Grace. It takes Lord Forrester's men days to travel with their Ironwood through the rough terrain of the North."

The Small Council went quiet, contemplating on what could be done to improve this bottleneck in Westorosi trade. Ever since visiting Ironrath in his journey to the Wall, King Stannis was impressed with the hardiness of Ironwood. The Crown has been a frequent customer of the Foresters with its ever-growing need for quality craftsmanship.

Ser Dale again spoke up, "I am not a man of commerce, Your Grace, but I believe it may be time to open a decent sized port in the western coast of the North. Ironwood and other Northern commodities available in and around the Wolfswood would pass through that port. Goods will arrive to us faster that way."

Justin Massey was visibly in disagreement to the Master of Ships's proposal.

"The port would serve no purpose than to speed up the transport of Ironwood. The Northern Clans which rule those parts have no use for it. Do you expect the Northerners to trade with the Ironborn and the Wildlings, Ser Dale? Trade is a foreign concept to all three of them. There are no bustling cities around to benefit from the existence of the port. The maintenance costs will be high, Your Grace, needlessly high."

"I see the benefit of the port, Ser Dale, but Lord Massey makes a good point. Grand Maester, send a raven to Lord Erren and ask him for his opinion on the matter."

"As you command, Your Grace."

"Anything else?"

"Your Grace, I have unpleasant whispers to share with you." Lord Lomas cleared his throat as he searched for appropriate words.

"There is growing...discontent for your...tolerance of the Red Faith among the smallfolk. Many of them have rallied around a septon that calls himself the High Sparrow. We have received reports about the High Sparrow some time, but the few who followed him were not enough to pose a threat, but now his influence has started to grow, stretching from the Neck all the way to the Rainwood. His followers, Sparrows as they call themselves, can now pose strong opposition if well-armed and well lead. Their numbers keep growing and at a frightening rate, Your Grace."

Ser Gendry Goldbull, the King's bastard nephew, storms into the Small Council Chamber.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Grace, my lords. Lord Davos Seaworth has passed on. He died peacefully in his sleep."

"My condolences, Ser Dale." Ser Edric Storm was the first to give his condolences to Dale Seaworth, now Lord Seaworth of the Rainwood. No doubt Edric and Gendry owe their lives to the late Lord Davos. Their uncle would have burned them to win the War. Davos Seaworth was willing to sacrifice his position and his honor to save their lives and betray the king that gave him everything. He was a good man. The men that constituted the Small Council may not have always agreed with him, but he was widely respected and held in high regard. But Stannis was shaken. No one was able to see it, but he was. The joint of his bones started to crack as he tried to keep his composure. His heart ached. Davos was with him from the very beginning, when things looked bleak, when he had the smallest army of all five kings. He was with him in every campaign henceforth. The man was truly loyal to Stannis. He was not bought with coin. They shared no blood. They had no marriage ties. But he was always Stannis's man. In the realm, the bards sing of him, calling him the greatest Hand in a hundred years. But now, the fingerless Hand is no more.

Ser Dale stood. He wanted to grieve; Stannis could tell. But Dale would not show weakness in front of a king of strength, and so held back his tears. He would have plenty of time to grieve back home in Castle Rainwood, with his brothers. Their father now joins Mathos, their brother who served Stannis as his scribe and squire before perishing in the Battle of Blackwater Bay; his flesh consumed by wildfire.

"Your grace. I ask your permission to take my father to his finally resting place between the trees of the lands Your Grace has granted him."

"They are your lands now, Lord Seaworth."

"…Yes, your grace."

"Go to the Rainwood. Assert your position as its lord. Let your father's bannermen swear you fealty. Take as much time as needed, my lord. When you are ready, you are welcome to return. There will always be a place for you in my Small Council."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Lord Dale Seaworth hurriedly left the room, and it was not long until the banners of his house were spotted leaving the Capital.

The Small Council came to an abrupt end. Maester Pate followed Stannis out of the Chamber.

"You will be needing a new Hand, Your Grace. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Stannis has had to think about who will succeed Davos. No matter who dies, the realm continues on, and it needs a Hand to serve the Ruling King.

"I name Lomas Estermont. Give him the badge."

"And who shall replace your uncle as Master of Whisperers, Your Grace?"

Stannis stood and turned at the Maester. He was irritated. The affairs of the realm were pressing, but surely Lomas could have served both positions temporarily. Nonetheless, Stannis already had a man in mind.

"Summon Doran Martell."

Doran Martell. The man was always sly and cunning. He was difficult to read, but Davos and Lomas both felt that he could be trusted, during the War at least. The Martells won Stannis his crown in that war. His own forces were decimated. Now, there was another war coming, and Stannis has lost his greatest force. He will be needing the Martells again.

Present Time. The Yunkaii Castle of Gadhis.

It was early morning. Stannis was an early riser. He had developed the habit of walking along castle walls during that time of day. He was accompanied by a member of his Kingsguard, Ser Robin Storm. Ser Robin was the bastard son of Ser Edric Storm and therefore Stannis's grandnephew.

"You grin more often here than in Westoros, Ser Robin? Do you like Yunkai?"

"It's warmer than Westoros, Your Grace. The food, the people are exotic. Quite the land for an adventure."

"An adventure with women and wine, no doubt. There is quite a lot of Robert in you."

Ser Robin wore a smug smile on his face. His white armor glittered as he walked by his king's side. Its radiance rivaling that of the rising sun. A crowned stag carrying a warhammer with its antlers proudly engraved onto his chestplate.

"You honor me with your words, Your Grace"

"I meant you no honor with my words."

"I know, Your Grace."

Stannis stood, looking over the plains and the copper hills in the distance.

"You will stay here and serve Lady Aglantine as her sword shield."

Ser Robin was shocked by his King's command.

"Your grace, I have been with you for as far I can remember. I served as your squire in childhood, as a member of your kingsguard now in adulthood. My place is by your side. I have shadowed you all my life!"

Stannis snapped, Robin's words triggering a memory of an event Stannis tried to lock away and keep hidden.

"Speak not of shadows in my presence! ... Do as your told, Ser Robin."

"... As Your Grace commands."

Stannis closed eyes, flashes of his memories of Renly coming to him. From the playful child, he was, to the arrogant claimant he became. Stannis did not kill with his own hands, but he dreamt of Renly's death many times, felt his brother's boiling blood on his fingers. It came to him often, the dream; reminding the King of a sin he can never wash away.

320 AC, 17 years after the end of the War of the Five Kings. A fortnight after the death of Lord Davos.

Maester Pate bursted into the dining hall, interuppting King Stannis and Queen Selyse's rather quiet supper.

"Your Grace! Grave news from Greenstone on happenings in the Rainwood. Lord Dale and Ser Devan Seaworth are dead, killed in cold blood by their brother, Allard Seaworth, who was proclaimed himself the Sea Storm King."

"What madness is this?!"

"The Sparrows Lord Lomas spoke of. Their leader has named Allard the King Chosen by the Seven."

Stannis stood in rage. Treason. Betrayal. They would hurt Stannis of course, but to be betrayed from a Seaworth, a son of Davos and from his own and flesh and blood, that made the pain unlike anything the King has felt before. Maybe he did feel something similar; when Renly donned a crown and named himself the successor to Robert. But Stannis was in no state to determine which betrayal was worse.

"What do you know of the Lord Dale and Ser Devan?"

"According to Lord Eldon Estermont, Lord Dale was killed not long after his return to Castle Rainwood. Ser Devan attempted to protect his lord and brother but failed to do so and was subdued easily. Allard had him executed for worshipping the Red God and raising his sword against the Seven."

Ser Devan squired for Stannis in his adolescence. He became intrigued with the Rh'llor faith and became a devout follower, much to the distaste of his father and brothers. But they let it slide. The Red God was the King's god after all. Albeit a cheeky fellow, he served Stannis well and stayed by his side till the very end of the War of the Five Kings.

"What of the younger two brothers, Stannis and Steffon?"

"They have bent their knees to Allard. Stannis now leads the Rainwood army south to Mistwood and Steffon holds Castle Rainwood. Allard and his Sparrow Army have already captured the Rain House. Lord Wylde is his prisoner."

Stannis grinded his teeth. War has come.

"Go inform Lord Martell immediately. I want Dornishmen in the Stormlands as soon as possible. Send ravens to the lords of the other great houses. It's time to test their loyalty. Send Ser Edric Storm to rally the Stormlanders. Call the banners of the Crownland lords. I want their men in King's Landing within the fortnight."

With that Stannis left to prepare. It was time to don his armor again. Treason must be punished.