Chapter 22
STANNIS BARATHEON
Stannis could still remember the day his parents had died. He was there on the bay, watching the ship when the winds began to rustle, and the storm rose out of thin air. The ship was there. His father. His mother. They were both there, right infront of him, and yet the storm had cared not, as it crashed into their ship and tore it asunder.
It had torn into their ship in the blink of an eye, and Storm's End had never been the same. They had searched the wreckage for days and had found no one except for that damned fool.
That was the day Stannis had learnt of cruelty. That was the day he had chosen to forsake his Gods, and they had taken much grievance to that.
First, they took his parents from him, and then the war would come, and he would find himself tasked with holding Storm's End against an inhuman horde. He would starve for days and would be forced to watch his men succumb to their hunger, and yet he would hold true to his vows.
And yet what would be the reward for his patience? Humiliation.
Robert, his own brother, would strip him of his birthright and offer him nothing but the wasteland that was Dragonstone. He was his blood, and yet the entire realm knew that Stark was more of a brother to him than he ever was.
Robert loved Eddard Stark, sang praises of his honor, and yet he never acknowledged his own kin. He shamed him on his own marriage, by sleeping with his good sister. He laughed and japed as his daughter fought for his life because of the gift he had given him, and yet Stannis did his duty.
He always did his duty, and yet was offered no gift or reward for it. Always.
Until now.
He stood in the room where all this had begun. The Chamber of the Painted Table. The very room from which Aegon the Conqueror had planned his conquest some three hundred years ago, and he would have to do the same.
He walked around the table, and the dust gathered on his fingers as he rubbed his palm against the ancient wood. The paints had faded, and he saw many a new road was missing, yet none of that took anything away from its beauty or marvel.
Stannis hoped that he would not have to make use of it. That, like him, others would do their duty as well, but Stannis had never been the kind to believe in hope or prayers. He knew of greed and temptations. Knew that the Lannister whore who sat the throne would not give it up without battle, and so a war would be fought and Aegon's Painted Table would come alive once more.
And the doors creaked, and he did not need to look back to know who had come, nor did he have to wonder about their reason.
Only one person within this castle had the authority to enter a room without permission, and already he could feel the Red Woman's warmth fill the room, as guilt and ruth filled his heart.
He did not stare at her, and instead turned his gaze towards the open seas as he let the winds crash into his being so that they may carry away some of his shame.
"Is it done?" he questioned, and her steps were quiet as she came and stood beside him. Even with the cold chill of the seas, Stannis could feel her warmth as he put her palm on his hand.
"It is," and despite the expectations, the news pained him much, yet Stannis did not falter. He loved Robert dearly. He was his kin, but the years of humiliation had marred that love nonetheless.
"He did not love me much," Stannis found himself speaking without thought, as his throat grew heavy.
"Truth be told, I do not have much love for him either. But he was still my brother," and so he turned his head to look at the Red Woman.
"Are you certain that I could not have done anything?" and perhaps it was the guilt in him that made him question her. The Red Woman had a pale heart-shaped face, with a slim body. Her eyes were red, much like her hair.
Even in the winter chill, she wore a thin robe that hugged her skin, and yet she was the warmest person in the castle.
"I am," she answered, and it did not lessen his guilt. She cupped his hand as she turned towards him fully.
"I know of the guilt and pain that you are feeling, but your brother's fate was sealed. His death was written. It was a necessity for only through his ashes can the Azhor Ahai be born," and he had forsaken his Gods years ago, for they had offered him nothing.
Stannis put little stock in Gods, but the Red Woman spoke highly of her Gods. She had saved his daughter when all the healers in the realm had condemned her to her fate. Now, she had forewarned him about his brother's death, and despite his doubts, Robert was dead.
Perhaps he could have saved him. Perhaps he could have done something.
But his burden was far greater than Robert's ever had been. He had let that Lannister woman make a mockery of all the laws of Gods and Men, as she tainted their marriage with the seed of her own brother.
The children. The so-called Princes and Princesses, all bastards born through the union of brother and sister, and now it was up to him to remove her from the capital and deliver justice.
"How did he die?" he wondered if it was poison, like Jon Arryn, or was it something else.
"A hunting accident," she answered softly.
"They say his horse slipped, and his head split open as he hit the rocks. He died some time after that," and he scoffed.
"A slipped horse and a rock," and for a man was once hailed as the Demon of the Trident to die in such a way.
"If it were any other warrior or King, he would have laughed at them for such a death," and yet Stannis did not laugh. He did not cry as he looked at the open seas and prepared himself for what lay ahead.
The Red Woman had warned him about such this days ago, and now it had come true. She had told him then that his path to the throne would be filled with contentions, but with Robert dead, leaving behind no trueborn children, the throne was his by right.
"When we spoke before, you warned of war," and she nodded.
"Indeed," and so he would have to make preparations.
"But before that, you must first deal with a great enemy," and now Stannis frowned.
"What great enemy?" he questioned.
"He wears a human skin, but make no mistake, he is no human," and for the first time, he saw a frown on her face as she spoke of this strange enemy.
"He is an agent of the Great Other. He is a being who could destroy this world unless we burn him," and his patience ran thin, as he pulled away his hand and turned to stare at her face straight.
"Will you stop speaking in riddles and give me his name?" Stannis spoke with some frustration, and the Red Woman met his gaze.
"You are familiar with him. In truth, there was a time when you considered him your family," and that narrowed down the list greatly.
"But he is not your family. He shared no blood with you, and is nothing more than a demon hiding in a human form," and still she had not given him the name, but as she opened her mouth again, the fires in the fireplace roared as if reacting to her name.
"I speak of Steffon Waters," and that was a specific name, and he had not thought that she would utter his name.
Steffon Waters, or Steffon Baratheon as he was called before, was Robert's second son. Stannis had met him a few times and thought him to be the only one of Robert's children worthy of his throne, and yet neither was he worthy nor was he of Robert's blood.
And if the woman infront of him was to be believed, he was not human either.
"But he is a child," and bastard or not, none of those children had any influence over their whore of a mother's actions.
"No," and the fires burned brightly as they spoke of the incestuous bastard.
"He is no child. He is a demon. An evil so great that unless we rid the world of this being, it might destroy everything," and he had doubts about this, for he had met the child many a time, and he was no demon then.
He was a quiet child indeed, but he remembered no demon. But the Red Woman had not led him astray yet, and so he would heed her words.
"I shall rid the world of this demon then, but for that, we must first take the capital," and that would not be easy, but he hoped that Stark would see reason and see the truth.
No doubt Robert would have appointed him as reagent if he had lived long enough to write a will, and with Stark just on the outskirts of the City, he would no doubt attend the funeral. Stannis could only hope that the Northern lord would keep to his oaths and recognise him as Robert's true heir.
"No," the Red Woman cut in, making him frown.
"Then how else am I to kill the boy, or will your God do that just as he did for Robert?" and she shook her head.
"No. The Gods cannot act on their own in this lower world. They must act through their champion, and the Red God has chosen you as his champion just as evil has chosen that boy," and so he must slay the boy himself.
He had never thought much about Robert's children, but he could remember that out of them all, he was the only one to ever look to him with some semblance of respect. The boy even wrote to him a few times inquiring about the health of his daughter when her affliction started.
He was amongst the few who showed concern and interest, and now the Red Woman had declared him a champion of Evil itself.
The boy reminded him of himself in a way, but Stannis would not shun from his duty. Evil or not, the boy was a bastard born out of incest just like his siblings, and he would have them suffer for it.
"If I am the champion indeed, then I must first get my hands on the boy to dispense my justice," and she nodded.
"And you shall. The flames showed me a vision, and the evil I speak of knows of your arrival. It fears it, and is trying to flee away to foreign lands so that it can escape your wrath," and now he frowned himself.
"Flee? You are telling me that the boy is trying to leave Kingslanding," and she nodded.
"Yes, but you must stop him. He knows that the Azor Ahai has come, and he will not spare him. So he flees, but he forgets that you rule these seas," and he did have the fleet at his command.
"And you are telling me that Steffon will try to flee to Essos," and she nodded.
"Yes, and you must capture him before he finds himself a new home. Strike before he has gathered any power, and the Red God shall reward you with great boons in the wars to come," and it did not make sense at all for the boy to leave, but he did control the seas around Kingslanding.
He could have his men scour the ships for him, and even if he was no agent of evil, the boy would make a useful hostage.
And just as he was thinking of that, there was a knock on the door.
"My lord, I have come bearing news," and it was the voice of his most trusted and loyal man that reached his ears as he turned towards the doors and beckoned him in.
"Come in, Ser Daavos," and the Onion Knight came in, his once-brown beard was peppered with grey, and his hair had begun to thin years ago. Unlike the other lords, he did not smell of roses or perfume but of salt and sea.
"My lord, I have come bearing a missive from Kingslanding. It says that the Ki..." and he stopped hastily, as his brown eyes fell on the Red Woman, and no doubt the Maester had sent him here to deliver the news of Robert's death.
But he already knew.
Ser Davos did not trust the Red Woman, and he was right to doubt her. But he also knew that he had no right to question his choices, and so the man held his tongue.
"I know of my brother's death, Ser Davos," and the man nodded.
"You have my condolences, my lord," and Stannis nodded, and soon enough, others will rush to offer him the same. But it was not their condolences he needed, it was their armies and gold that he would need.
He remembered the Red Woman's words, and if the boy was indeed trying to flee the city, then he could think of no better man to bring him here beside him.
"Ser Davos, I have a task for you," and the man bent down instantly.
"I am yours to command, my lord...."
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