Storm's Gates
Eighth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
Though you consider returning to the Opaline Vault to seek out the other dragon of which you had heard, or perhaps invest the bound golem with reason if the Shaitan have found nothing perilous about its making, you find Lya deep in the midst of delicate research into the nature of fey wards having just accidentally destroyed an entire set of fragile arcane measuring tools when the wards had proven to burn in a brighter spectrum than anticipated. While still optimistic about finishing the project on time and within budget, she does not wish to spend days away from her project at this juncture. "Climbing out of a hole gets more daunting the more time you spend at the bottom," she says, sending you off with a kiss just lingering enough to be glad there's no one else in the laboratory.
Thus instead of arcane matters, or bargains upon the Sphere of Earth, you set yourself the task of dealing with diplomacy of a more mortal kind, though requiring no less delicate a touch. So in the morning as you break fast, you ask both Dany and your mother to accompany you, both as a show of trust and to add their own voices to the arguments you will make. You are certainly going to need every advantage you can conjure.
"You want to convince Stannis Baratheon to take up worshiping storms?" Your mother does not sound shocked as she once might have, though she is clearly doubtful of the prospect. "He is certainly not known as a pious man, but that is from being hardheaded and practical. I just cannot imagine him taking up any ancient rite with any real devotion even if it were presented under the best of circumstances..."
"Which these are not, because the Usurper still lives," Dany finishes. "Yet would it be any better to present the matter with his elder brother's blood upon our hands?" She shakes her head. "Cousin Stannis may be stubborn as a rock, but he is at least able to see the world as it is, not as he would prefer it. This is a world in which gods have true power, in which, if tales are true, his wife already converted to the Lord of Light. Would he truly prefer their priesthood stretching out over a whole continent, and with power to match, rather than a tame altar of the Storm God seen to by servants dependent upon his good will to prosper?"
"He might choose to stay the course and follow the Seven," you point out. "The Chosen of the Seven are no less true than the priests of R'hllor the Red..." You let the word
'unfortunately' hang in the air unspoken. Much as you would prefer peace with the Seven, you cannot deny the problems of Westeros would be so much simpler without them.
"And turn his lands into a battleground between east and west?" your sister carries on her argument undaunted. "Better a Stormlander god, a local god to bind the lords together through troubled times, or so at least we might win him over."
"Careful," your mother warns. "That is a good thought, but it could be seen to imply that the lords under him would not do their duty but squabble among themselves. True or not, he might well take that as an insult to his lords. We all judge others by our own measure." She sighs, looking out the window, but you suspect not seeing the sunny day but rather something entirely different. "Better I think to remind him tactfully of all he already owes—his seat by the discovery of the imposter Renly, his daughter's health, and the safety of his lands by purging them of Devils. These are not small things..."
"I do not think Stannis is a man who needs reminding of debts any more than he does of grudges," you interject. "The question is how to press upon the scales so that it is those debts that weigh more than his duty to his brother..." Were this another man you would try bribery, but sooner would a Fury give up blade and bow for a life of charity and peaceful contemplation than Stannis Baratheon surrender his duty for mere personal advantage. The task before you is clear but far from easy. You have to convince Stannis that you would make the better king, one worthy of his fealty.
***
It is with that thought in mind that you look up at the grey drum tower of Storm's End looming above Shipbreaker Bay like a fist smashed into the face of the sky. So it was long ago when the world was young, so it still is. Ancient blood-inked runes still shine bright in a mage's sight warding those within against the wrath of gods and mages, even as the mighty curtain wall, forty-feet wide and one-hundred-feet high guard it from any merely mortal engines. You would not wish to cross that threshold uninvited.
Thankfully you do not have to, and neither do you have to enter in dissembling guise, risking Stannis Baratheon's ire in that way. You simply walk up to a postern gate under a veil at the appointed time and wait for it to be unlocked, not by any guard, but by the Lady of the House. Selyse Baratheon looks... not precisely pleased to see you, there is too much wariness for that, but there is certainly hope in her gaze. Her daughter on the other hand shows no such reservation, flinging herself at Dany in a hug. How a girl of barely five managed to convince her mother to let her accompany her in what is, from a certain perceptive, treason to the realm, you cannot say for certain, but you suspect the shadow of her dragon dreams already presses upon the waking world with the weight of fate unborn.
How do you address Lord Stannis Baratheon, and of what do you speak?
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OOC: Since I know you guys are a bit more hesitant of big social votes than you used to be, I thought I would give some IC advice and just show Viserys and his family interact when discussing matters of state since that has always been a grey area between 'family moments' and 'Viserys decides stuff'.