"If you had helped Eddard Stark…"
Ser Davos spoke cautiously, his tone hesitant. Even as the words left his mouth, he questioned whether it was his place to say them at all. A man of humble birth, raised from smuggler to knight, he was keenly aware of his limits.
Such matters—
They belonged to maesters and lords.
But the Old Maester was dead.
Davos had seen it with his own eyes.
The old man had tried to poison the Red Priestess… and paid for it with his life.
Now, there was no one left to speak truths that others feared.
So Davos did.
Across the chamber stood the woman in red.
Melisandre listened in silence.
She was red in every sense—her long silken gown shimmered like living flame, clinging elegantly to her tall, graceful figure. The deep crimson fabric seemed to drink in the torchlight and glow from within. Around her throat rested a tight collar of red gold, set with a large ruby that pulsed faintly, as though alive.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm—almost indifferent.
"Why should I have helped Eddard Stark?"
Her lips curved faintly.
"He means nothing to me."
A pause.
Then, her gaze shifted toward the man seated heavily upon his chair.
Stannis Baratheon.
"Robert loved him," Stannis said bitterly, his voice low but filled with restrained fury. "Always said they were like brothers. I've heard that phrase more times than I care to count."
His hands tightened.
"His brother was Stark… not me."
The bitterness in his voice deepened, long-buried resentment surfacing like a storm breaking through calm waters.
"I held Storm's End for him," Stannis continued. "I watched my men starve. One by one. While Tyrell and Redwyne feasted outside our walls."
His jaw clenched.
"And when it was over… he thanked Stark for lifting the siege."
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"I ate rats to keep that castle."
Silence filled the room.
Davos lowered his head slightly, saying nothing.
He had heard these grievances before.
But never like this.
"I took Dragonstone for him," Stannis went on. "And he complained that I failed to capture Viserys and the child."
His voice grew colder.
"I ruled in King's Landing for him. Helped Jon Arryn govern the realm while Robert drank and whored his way through life."
A pause.
"Did he ever name me Hand?"
"No."
His eyes darkened.
"He rode a thousand miles to bring Stark south instead."
The words lingered.
Even in death, Robert had chosen Eddard Stark.
Not him.
Davos swallowed.
This was no longer anger.
It was something deeper.
A wound that had never healed.
"Your Grace…" Davos began carefully.
But the words faltered.
What could he say?
Stannis was a man of iron principles—unyielding, rigid, and proud. Once he decided something, no force in the world could make him bend.
But that same rigidity…
Could break a man.
Davos knew it.
He also knew—
Stannis carried the burden of being a younger brother.
Always overlooked.
Always second.
And he never forgot.
"Your duties remain," Stannis said suddenly, regaining control of himself. "Robert's will is his. My discovery is mine."
He looked at Davos.
"You will spread the truth. About the Lannisters. About what I've found."
Davos nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Stannis studied him for a moment, as though weighing something unseen.
Then—
"Tell me, Ser Davos… The Old Maester once suggested betrothing my daughter to House Arryn. What do you think?"
Davos hesitated.
This was not his place.
Not his station.
But before he could answer—
A sharp voice cut through the room.
"Why should we beg alliances like supplicants?"
Selyse Florent stepped forward.
Tall and thin, her face narrow and severe, her expression carried constant dissatisfaction. Her pale eyes were cold, her voice sharper still.
"As the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, must you now bow to widows, bastards, and usurpers?"
Davos immediately lowered his head, stepping aside.
This was no place for him anymore.
"Woman," Stannis said, frowning. "I do not grovel."
Davos took the opportunity to leave.
There was nothing more to be gained by staying.
Only more arguments.
Faith and Fire
Selyse's voice rose, fervent and unwavering.
"By the will of the Lord of Light, you are the true king!"
Her eyes burned with zeal.
"The Starks, the Arryns, Renly—all of them should kneel before you! Why hesitate? Why delay?"
Stannis looked at her.
There was no warmth in his gaze.
Their marriage had never been one of love.
And now—
She had given herself completely to a foreign god.
The Lord of Light.
"Keep your god's will to yourself," Stannis said coldly. "I have my own plans."
"Plans?" she snapped. "Or fear?"
Stannis's expression darkened.
"I do not answer to you."
He turned away.
"Leave us. I will speak with the priestess."
Selyse hesitated—then left.
Now, only two remained.
Stannis.
And the woman in red.
Melisandre stepped forward slightly, her presence almost hypnotic.
"You wished to speak with me… Your Grace?"
Her voice was soft, accented, almost musical.
Stannis exhaled.
"I am not a king," he said flatly. "Not yet."
He looked away.
"My brother's will… names another."
He paused.
"If your god is so powerful… why did he not show me the truth sooner?"
Melisandre smiled faintly.
"The past is fixed," she said. "But the future… branches endlessly."
She stepped closer.
"Even I must search for it in the flames."
Stannis shook his head.
"I am still Lord of Dragonstone. Nothing more."
His voice carried frustration.
"A barren island. A small army. No allies."
He clenched his fist.
"While others rise."
He thought of Robert's bastard.
Of Renly.
Of the Lannisters.
All claiming power.
All moving ahead—
While he remained.
"Greatness is born from hardship," Melisandre said calmly. "From faith."
Stannis gave a dry laugh.
"Then the gods have little love for me."
He leaned back.
"They say the boy is favored. That he is chosen."
His voice was bitter.
"He has Robert's charm. Strength. Everything people loved."
A pause.
"And I have none of it."
Melisandre's ruby gleamed.
"Look outside," she said.
Stannis frowned—but stood.
In the night sky—
A red comet blazed.
Burning.
Brilliant.
Like a sword of fire across the heavens.
"It is the sign I have awaited," she said softly.
"The banner of the Lord of Light."
Her voice deepened.
"And it is yours."
Stannis stared.
Silent.
"You are destined to rise," she continued. "To conquer. As Aegon once did."
Stannis shook his head slowly.
"No one has ever loved me like they loved Robert."
His voice was quiet now.
"They won't follow me."
Melisandre stepped closer.
"They will."
Her eyes burned.
"I have seen it."
"In the flames."
She raised a hand.
"The false kings will fall."
"Storm's End will be yours."
"The North… the Riverlands… all will kneel."
Stannis hesitated.
"That boy hasn't even taken the throne yet."
"To me," Melisandre said coldly, "they are all the same."
"Obstacles."
Silence fell.
Then—
Stannis spoke quietly.
"Why me?"
His voice was almost tired.
"Why does your god choose me?"
"I was never the better brother."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Robert was stronger. Charismatic. Loved."
A pause.
"If your god wanted a champion… he should have chosen him."
Melisandre did not waver.
"Because you are just."
Her voice was absolute.
"You are the one the world needs."
She stepped forward.
"From the flames will come a hero."
"A sword of fire."
"Lightbringer."
Her gaze locked onto his.
"You are Azor Ahai reborn."
Stannis said nothing.
He did not believe.
Not truly.
But—
He was weak.
And she offered power.
"If I accept…" he said slowly.
"What must I give?"
Melisandre smiled.
"Faith."
"Sacrifice."
"Burn the false gods."
Her voice softened.
"And the Lord of Light will grant you victory."
Stannis's eyes darkened.
"…Victory?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Even your brother."
"Even your nephew."
"They will fall."
She leaned closer.
"King's blood holds power."
"Give it to me… and I will awaken greater strength."
Stannis stiffened.
"…Enough."
He turned away.
"Leave me."
Melisandre inclined her head.
"As you wish… Your Grace."
Alone with the Storm
The chamber fell silent.
Only the sound of wind and distant waves remained.
Stannis stood before the map table.
Storm's End.
Dragonstone.
King's Landing.
All laid out before him.
"You've left me a difficult choice…" he murmured.
His thoughts turned to Robert.
To the past.
"When you rebelled… I chose family over honor."
His voice hardened.
"But now…"
His fists clenched.
"Family. Honor. Duty."
Which mattered most?
"You were a fool," he muttered bitterly. "A drunk. A whoremonger."
Yet—
He still believed in that will.
Even now.
"…What should I do?"
His voice lowered.
"Become a man who kills his brother?"
"…His nephew?"
He let out a bitter breath.
"And they call me a savior."
The wind howled outside.
The sea roared.
But none of it could quiet the storm within him.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)