AN: Updated 1/2/17

The Hand was dead. The rumors had been flying all night, and there could be only one reason for Stannis to be summoned by the King at such an early hour. Damn that woman! How had she found out so quickly?

Stannis hurried through the passages of the Red Keep, the sun had barely risen over Blackwater Bay and the low light cast long shadows across the corridor. I'll need to get out of this nest of vipers soon, before she comes for me. But first he would have to deal with his oaf of a brother.

The summons had come while Stannis was tossing about in bed, still unable to sleep. Stannis had hurriedly changed out of his nightwear fumbling around in the semi-darkness for appropriate mourning colors.

The King rarely ever convened the Small Council on his own and never until the sun was high in the sky. Even stranger, Robert had called for the Council to meet in his personal solar, something that Stannis could not recall any precedent for.

Increasingly anxious, Stannis headed up towards the Royal Chambers, moving far more quickly than he would otherwise. In his nervous state, every shadow became an assassin, every statue one of the Queen's creatures. Rounding a corner, Stannis nearly walked into a dark figure looming in the shadows, causing him to jump violently and utter a rather undignified little yelp.

"The King desires your immediate presence in his chambers, Lord Stannis." It was the Kingsguard, Mandon Moore. The strange, lifeless eyes watched him dispassionately.

"What's going on? Why me personally?" Stannis asked his prickle of unease growing stronger by the second.

"The King demands your presence in his chambers," was the only reply those eyes gave him.

Hurrying on, Stannis could barely help himself from glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Finally, he arrived at the door to Robert's chambers, quite out of breath. Ser Barristan Selmy stood at the door. Very peculiar, there were rarely fewer than three Kingsguard surrounding Robert at all times. What is going on here?

Ser Barristan gave him a cursory glance, then cracked open the door to the rooms within. "Your Grace, Lord Stannis has arrived."

"Send him in," Robert's voice came through, though it sounded rather hoarser than it had the previous day. "And come in yourself, Ser Barristan. And lock the door behind you."

With a slightly bemused look, Selmy held the door for Stannis and then entered the King's chambers behind him. Stannis found himself in his brother's solar, a large table set up in the middle with several chairs around it. The tabletop was scattered with goblets and empty wineskins, the King himself was sitting amidst the clutter, nursing a flagon of what appeared to be Arbor Gold. And next to Robert was Renly, looking as confused as Stannis felt.

"Ah, Stannis," Renly said, getting to his feet. "Perhaps you will be able to explain why I have been summoned here at so early an hour. Our dear brother has refused to say anything until you arrived."

"Why me? And where is the rest of the Council?" Stannis asked, knowing that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"You're the only ones I can fucking trust," Robert slurred. An awkward silence met this declaration, broken finally by a small cough from Barristan.

"Be that as it may Your Grace,— "

"Jon's dead." Robert said, still staring off into space. His speech was rather slurred and he clutched the flagon of wine tighter. Stannis noted that the King's eyes were still red and puffy. Clearly he had tried to drown his grief in wine. He sheds more tears for his foster father than he ever did for his true father, Stannis thought rather bitterly.

Ser Barristan stepped forward hesitantly. "Ah, Your Grace…? Perchance you've had enough wine…?"

"We're not here to talk about my bloody wine," Robert growled. "We're here about Cersei."

Cersei? How had Robert found out about that? Stannis glanced at Renly and Ser Barristan; they both seemed taken aback by this pronouncement. Clearly, whatever they had expected it had not been this.

"You. Stannis. Jon said something about Cersei and bastards and said you would help. Also something about some book or other. Know what he meant?" Robert glared at him, seemingly daring him to say what he knew.

Stannis swallowed nervously. He felt all the eyes in the room turn to him. Damn him! I didn't want to tell him like this! I wanted…I wanted… But however he had wanted to tell Robert, the fact remained that here he was demanding answers now. Lord Arryn was dead and now Stannis had to tell the King why.

"Your Grace, I have had, ah, suspicions for some time that the Princes Joffrey and Tommen and the Princess Myrcella are not your trueborn heirs, but bastards born of incest between the Queen and her brother." Renly and Barristan seemed startled, but Robert just nodded, as if he had been expecting it.

"I brought my suspicions to Lord Arryn in the hopes that he could help me confirm or deny my misgivings," That was not entirely true, Stannis reflected, he had been hoping Jon Arryn would make the claim seem more credible. Robert would be less forgiving towards his brother than the Hand, and it would not look good for an uncle to slander his niece and nephews thereby making him heir to the Iron Throne. "The Hand and I tracked down a number of your bastards and found that all of them had your hair and eyes as opposed to their mothers'. And with all the Queen's children having only her look, we deduced that they could not be yours. Lord Arryn mentioned that he would look into the past history of Lannister-Baratheon children. That was yesterday. He is dead now." Stannis hesitated, should he tell Robert his suspicions about Jon Arryn's death? He probably thinks she did it anyway. "I suspect the Lannisters may have discovered what Lord Arryn knew and poisoned him to keep his mouth shut." Now all he could do was hope Robert didn't take it too hard.

"That fucking bitch! The lying whore of a bitch! She killed Jon! Godsdamn it, I should have known! She's always been so cold, never coming to my bed!" Robert was shouting now. "And that whoreson of a Kingsguard! He'll bloody well get what's coming to him! Thinks he can cuckold me, eh? I'll smash his pretty little face in! Where's my fucking warhammer!?"

Robert let out a guttural roar and with one movement cleared the table of all the various pitchers and goblets. Glass and ceramics shattered and smashed. A single chalice rolled towards Stannis' foot, dark red wine leaking out into puddle.

Robert was panting now, staring at Stannis with the same intensity as before. Grief and rage were written bold across the King's features. Breathlessly, in a would-be-calm voice he said, "So, what's the plan?"