A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

Eighth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC

Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End for but seven days, sat almost painfully straight in the chair he had taken once before in a time of strife and turmoil. When the Tyrell host camped outside the walls, when relief was nothing more than empty words on ravens' wings, the keep had held. He had held. Will I hold now? he wondered with fear he felt neither during the siege nor thirteen months past when Targaryen had taken him prisoner from the deck of his ship. A brave man might die in a doomed sally rather than surrender a keep, a strong man might resist torture and die upon the rack rather than break, but there was no army now encamped outside the walls, and there had been no rack those few weeks in Sorcerer's Deep. The worst the boy had done was ask him to play some mummery so he might capture more ships, but when refused he'd treated an enemy with every courtesy expected and more besides. The reason had been plain from the first moment of course, what a victory it would be for the Dragon to make Stannis betray his oaths to his brother and king.

Yet as the months piled on and with them aid unasked for but desperately needed, Stannis began to wonder if he could truly discount that aid no matter the cause. Ser Davos would have been dead and who knows what devilry would have been worked at Greenstone but for it, and at Dragonstone again were Devils slain before they could work their will on Stannis' smallfolk, ones he had failed to protect. The thought was like bile on his tongue. Was this how Robert justified his indolence? If the Dragon aided some subject of his from peril, then the subject was a traitor and his troubles no longer of import.

Cressen cleared his throat: "My lord, whatever your feelings towards Viserys Targaryen, it would be best to remain calm. A conflict here would be inadvisable."

"I'm not angry," Stannis replied, the thread of frustration in his tone giving lie to the words. "I wasn't angry until a moment ago," he corrected himself. Truth be told he could not blame the old maester for the error. He had been coldly furious at Selyse when she announced that she had known for so long that it had been Daenerys Targaryen who had healed Shireen of her affliction, and that she had later spoken to her brother. That had near enough the look of treason as to make no difference, and all the worse to have been hidden for months with Shireen tangled in the middle. The thought that Viserys Targaryen would use his family to force his hand had made him so angry that for the first time since he had been a boy he'd taken his sword out to the yard and destroyed a training pell with it. Ser Colen had given him a look just like when he had been a boy, too.

Weeks passed, then months, and no letter came demanding that he turn traitor or be revealed, even as news began to reach him through Ser Davos of rumors from the east where it was said great armies gathered, and from the west filled with new exploits the boy had done for this lord or that. Most of it was likely tall tales, but even as much as Ser Davos was reasonably confined it made a bitter hearing. The kingdom was falling apart, and the king was too busy drinking and fucking himself into his grave. Was Targaryen even doing this to get support, or just to make sure he still had a kingdom whenever he got around to conquering it? All his letters to King's Landing were met either with silence or bluster and talk of Lannister plans.

Stannis was not proud to remember how he had practically made Cressen beg not to send the letter that asked whether it was Tywin Lannister who was king now. When he had been asked to be Master of Laws in the same letter as his confirmation as Lord of Storm's End he had dared to imagine that this was a sign that Robert had finally understood. Then had come the news that his daughter was dreaming of fire, and of a girl with silver wings.

Not knowing what else to do, he'd finally decided to ask Wisdom Beran, the most senior of the Alchemists he had gathered, about dreams and magic, but the man had been less use than the Red Priest whom Selyse had found. What was he to do, tell his daughter all four namedays old to slap away a helping hand when he had failed to do so?

He had expected the visit or something like it. Did it carry that long-expected threat or yet more aid from a man he had no right to expect any of?

"Why are you here?" he'd asked as his first question to settle matters once and for all, but the boy had answered with one of his own, and then his sister had followed it with advice and an offer of teaching.

Had it all been her idea? Stannis wondered, the question no more fantastical than the fact that he was sitting in his father's solar conversing with three Targaryens, one of which should have been nine years in her grave.

He almost welcomed the question about the thing that wore Renly's face, the familiar pain cutting through the confusion and questions he did not wish to ask himself.

The reprieve, if such you could call it, had been short indeed, and he was the one to put an end to it as they spoke again of Shireen's education and her needs. "What are those other calls upon your time?" If there was more that could be done to help his daughter he would not stand idle:

And so they told him, horror upon horror, speaking hours through. It sounded like madness, mad dragon gods and cities of horrors under the sea. As mad as conjured storms and monsters? The voice of memory mocked him. He could not bear to speak on this further to offer praise to Tywin Lannister, yet credit had to be given where it was owed.

"The Citadel works tirelessly to understand and counter these new threats, the Lantern Bearers cleanse Oldtown and the Golden Shields stand guard against in the west," Cressen took on the duty without hesitation as he had taken on so many others.

"They stand guard as watchmen bearing torches at their posts," Queen Rhaella interjected. "They are blind to all but what happens a few feet in front of their noses. They watch for Devils, and look how many escaped their gaze. They slay smallfolk who deal with Deep Ones, yet the monsters themselves move on and grow fat off the misery of men. There is a saying oft spoken by healers that I think lords should pay more heed to—'an ounce of prevention is worth ten pounds of cure'." Scarce taking a breath she continued. "Where then is that prevention? Where are the warnings given to high and low alike? Where are the opportunities for men to make more of themselves, that curdled ambition and broken hopes do not turn to madness? I look to the west and see the boot of Tywin Lannister smashed into the faces of his own people, and I look to the east and see his daughter sneer upon the misfortunes of her subjects."

Perhaps it was her voice, perhaps it was being here in the room he had so often visited as a boy, but suddenly he remembered speaking to his father, mere weeks before he set sailed to die. Stannis had asked what manner of man was the king to have commanded one of this great lords to leave their fief on such short notice. He'd said the king was a dear friend, but even if that were not the case he was still the king. The boy he'd been then had nodded and taken the lesson to heart, but he'd asked one more question. 'And the Queen, what is she like?'

Steffon Baratheon had smiled then and said. 'A great and good woman, kind but more strong-willed than many men I've ridden into battle beside.'

Was Cersei fucking Lannister a good woman, much less great? Had she ever been been kind once in her life, or strong in anything besides spite? Stannis wondered, but he knew the truth before he had even asked the question. She was unworthy to be queen... as Robert was unworthy to be king. The poisonous, treasonous thought lay on his chest like a mountain, but he could not unthink it.

"The smallfolk are not the only ones who must bear the weight of Lannister tyranny and of their fears. I have recently received independent confirmation that he is binding some mages to service by the power of others, because he does not trust them to do their duty. Little wonder I suppose given how the man sees fit to do so his, but still one more injustice, one more danger to the realm," the boy continued, and Stannis could not even bring himself to be surprised, much less deny it.

"Tywin Lannister should never have been allowed so much freedom to do as he willed only because he was fortunate in his brother's skill," Stannis proclaimed. If he were Master of Laws only for a day he would bring this abomination to justice.

"Yet this is the man who might well be made Hand with Jon Arryn dead." Viserys Targaryen was not done, though at once Stannis saw in his eyes an echo of the same weariness he felt. "My lord, I did not create an army to conquer Westeros but to do so with the least amount of bloodshed and death. I refrain from enslaving mages not only because it is abhorrent, but because even with them all united in purpose it is barely enough. All the wards, all the eyes scattered throughout the world, and yet so many times I was still almost too late. I ask you to join me not because I am strong but because I need help."

"Damn you..." As he looked into that future, a future with Lannisters running unchecked in court, Stannis Baratheon saw no path by which Tywin Lannister would not be the uncrowned king of Westeros, with the Baratheon banner to wipe the blood from his hands, just as ten years past he had seen no path by which Mad King Aerys would not drown the world in chaos and misery. "Damn you, Robert, to Hell!" The windows shook slightly with the sound of his voice.

Distantly the Lord of Storm's End heard himself say: "Your Grace, Your Highness, I apologize for my intemperate words."

"If there was ever a reason to curse in company I think you have it in full, my lord," the Queen replied. Of course she would be kind.

Looking into the face of Viserys Targaryen still, Stannis asked. "I pledge myself to your service, King Viserys. What would you have of me?"

So it was that Stannis Baratheon, a man famed for his love of duty, betrayed his second king.

OOC: Well here it is. It was surprisingly easy to write once I got into Stannis' head. I hope you guys enjoy.