c37 Stannis
Inside Storm's End.
A man with a rigid posture and a stern, unyielding face sat alone at a round wooden table, writing something with deliberate force.
A half-burnt white candle rested upon the polished surface, its flame flickering weakly in the damp air that seeped through the narrow window. The unsteady light cast long, wavering shadows across the stone walls behind him.
Outside, rain lashed against the fortress in relentless sheets.
The sound of the storm battering the ancient walls wind howling, thunder rolling echoed faintly within the chamber, stirring a rare sense of agitation in the man's otherwise iron-bound mind.
Then
Snap!
The quill in his hand suddenly broke in two.
Stannis Baratheon's expression darkened.
Without hesitation, he flung the broken quill aside, where it struck the stone wall with a dull sound before falling to the ground.
For reasons he could not fully explain, an unease had settled deep within his chest.
The broken quill felt like an ill omen.
A warning.
His brow furrowed tightly, the muscles between his eyes drawing together. He raised a hand, his rough, calloused fingers pressing against his temples as he tried to steady his thoughts.
But the feeling would not fade.
His lips thin and pale tightened further. Stannis Baratheon was not a man given to laughter, nor to comfort. Duty defined him, Nothing more.
His elder brother, Robert Baratheon, now sat upon the Iron Throne, ruling the Seven Kingdoms.
By rights and tradition, Storm's End, the ancestral stronghold of House Baratheon should pass to the next in line.
However a king could choose otherwise, He could retain Storm's End for the crown, or grant it at his discretion.
And Stannis knew his brother well enough to understand that Robert did not always follow tradition.
Still by law, by blood, by right Stannis was the rightful heir to Storm's End.
His younger brother, Renly Baratheon, was still a boy, far too young to contest such matters.
At least that was how Stannis saw it.
Before Robert fathered any legitimate heirs, Stannis himself could even be considered next in line to the Iron Throne.
Yet now, that certainty felt less solid. A vague unease lingered in his mind, Perhaps it stemmed from the strained bond between him and Robert. Or perhaps from the silence, there had been little word from King's Landing in recent days.
"Perhaps… Robert simply intends to secure Dragonstone first."
Stannis exhaled slowly, lowering his hand from his temples as he muttered to himself.
The tension in his brow eased slightly.
Yes, that would make sense.
Dragonstone, the last refuge of the Targaryens, had to be taken.
Only then could Robert fully secure his rule.
Only then would titles and lands be distributed.
Even if Stannis held reservations about his brother's impulsive nature, his loyalty had never wavered.
He knew Robert's hatred for the Targaryens burned deeply.
And so he accepted this explanation.
For now.
Recently, the fleet of Paxter Redwyne had suffered setbacks in its attempts to assert naval dominance near Dragonstone. The surviving ships had withdrawn to the western coasts to regroup and repair.
Yet Robert's determination to reclaim Dragonstone remained absolute.
Unshaken.
And so Stannis remained here, overseeing preparations.
Shipyards worked day and night.
Timber was cut, hulls constructed, sails woven.
New warships were being launched one after another, while fresh sailors were drilled relentlessly under his command.
The royal fleet, his fleet was beginning to take shape.
Stannis felt a quiet, restrained ambition rising within him.
Once his navy was complete, once discipline had been forged into every man and every ship, then retaking Dragonstone would not be difficult.
It would be inevitable.
"Is my brother inside?"
At that moment a youthful voice rang out from beyond the study door, carrying a hint of curiosity and poorly concealed excitement.
But it was immediately followed by a colder, more rigid voice.
"Apologies, Lord Renly."
"Lord Stannis does not wish to receive visitors at this time."
A guard stationed outside the chamber stepped forward, blocking the path of Renly Baratheon, the youngest lord of Storm's End.
The storm continued to rage outside unaware that within these walls, another kind of tension was quietly building.
The boy in the blue velvet tunic seemed as though a bucket of cold water had just been poured over him. Startled, the glittering stone in his hand slipped from his fingers and clattered softly onto the floor.
For some reason, the third son of House Baratheon was… different from other boys his age.
Although he received basic knightly instruction like any noble child—learning how to hold a wooden sword or sit a horse Renly had little genuine interest in martial pursuits.
Swords and spears did not fascinate him.
Beauty did.
Renly preferred things that shone, things that pleased the eye.
For example, earlier that day, he had gone down to the storm-lashed shores near Storm's End with a group of companions, gathering smooth, colorful stones from the beach.
Among them, this particular stone clear and glimmering faintly in the light was his favorite.
But before they could enjoy themselves for long, the approaching storm surge had forced the children to return to the safety of the castle.
Unwilling to let his excitement fade, Renly had rushed back with the stone in hand, intending to show it proudly to his brother.
Yet he had not expected to be stopped at the door.
The excitement on his face vanished instantly.
His lips pursed slightly, and his expression fell into visible disappointment. He bent down, picked up the fallen stone with care, and turned as if to leave.
Inside the study, Stannis had heard everything.
His brow tightened slightly.
After a brief pause, his calm but firm voice came from within:
"Renly?"
"Let him in."
Despite his stern nature, he did care for his younger brother.
Their parents Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont had perished years ago in a shipwreck off the coast near Shipbreaker Bay, leaving the three brothers to grow up largely without parental guidance.
The eldest, Robert Baratheon, was wild, charismatic, and largely absent.
And so Stannis had been forced into the role of caretaker.
Strict.
Unyielding.
More like a harsh father than a brother.
But he had never been good at expressing affection.
Hearing the guard step aside and his brother call him in, the gloom on Renly's face vanished as quickly as it had come. A bright smile spread across his face once more.
But just then
Dong!
A deep, mournful bell rang out from the direction of the watchtower overlooking the sea.
The sound cut through the castle like a blade.
Stannis froze.
So did the guards.
Renly, too, stopped in place, his small body stiffening.
That sound was far too familiar.
It stirred memories none of them could forget.
Only half a year ago, during the closing days of Robert's Rebellion, Storm's End had been placed under siege.
Cut off from supplies, the garrison had been reduced to eating rats to survive.
During those desperate months, horns and warning bells had sounded again and again, heralding danger, attack, or false hope.
For the young Renly, then only a small child. Those sounds had been terrifying.
He had cried uncontrollably, throwing the castle into further distress.
Now hearing that same bell again, his face went pale.
Tears welled in his eyes almost instantly as fear took hold.
Around them, the castle stirred into chaos.
Servants rushed through the halls.
Soldiers shouted orders.
The atmosphere turned tense in an instant.
Yet Stannis remained the most composed of them all.
After the briefest flicker of surprise, his expression hardened once more into iron resolve.
Without hesitation, he rose to his feet, strode to the door, and pushed it open.
He did not even spare a glance for Renly, who had sunk to the floor, trembling and beginning to cry.
His hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his sword.
His face dark.
His voice cold.
"The Seven Hells…"
"Someone tell me what is happening."
At that moment, a soldier came rushing down the corridor, breathless and clearly shaken, as though he had run all the way from the outer watchtower.
"Lord Stannis!"
"Something terrible has happened!"
The man struggled to catch his breath, his face pale with alarm.
"A large number of unidentified ships have appeared on the sea"
"And they are riding the storm… straight toward the port!"
.....