Chapter Text
Stannis surveyed the battlefield before him, narrowing his eyes at the scene and taking particular care to ignore the stench of corpses strewn about the field. What a shame. he found himself thinking, These were my father's bannermen.
He tugged at the reins of his black destrier and turned the animal back towards his command tent, feeling rage build up beneath his stone cold stare. It built up against these men that adorned this previously insignificant field ahead of him, and it built up against Robert for forcing him to kill them.
The Stormlands had been plunged into disarray as soon as the Lords recieved that damned missive from Robert, calling all of them to take up arms to depose the king. Stannis had been presented with a choice then. A choice between his liege lord, his brother and the law of the land itself.
Robert had never been one to care about oaths or fealties. His loyalty had always belonged with his whores and his worthless friends. He had never once considered the weight of the duty he had been born into, and Stannis sincerely doubted he ever realized it had been a duty in the first place. And yet still, Robert was his brother. His liege lord. Steffon and Cassana Baratheon's eldest son.
Atop his destrier through the foggy air, Stannis found his hands balled into tight fists gripping the reins with such fervor. Damn Robert. Damn him for making him do all of this. He hadn't a choice. It was law. Law, not cruelty. He had made his decision to follow his King. House Baratheon had no grievances with the Crown, the Crown had never wronged their House. The Crown were their legal overlords. It was the right decision.
So why did he feel this way? When he looked upon this field littered with the dead bodies of his countrymen, why did he feel sick?
Just before he reached his tent, he spotted a green shield spattered with dirt lying atop a dead man. Stannis averted his eyes as quickly as he could, but he knew the sigil that shield bore. He sped up his horse.
He barged into the tent, and the men inside immediately stood up to attention. Lord Ormund Cafferen was a young man some years his senior with knowing brown eyes and a head for battles. Lord Gawen Grandison stood next to him, his long beard trailing down to his stomach as he nodded to Stannis. Lord Willis Fell and his son Arlan "Silveraxe" were at either side of the table, discussing heatedly until he entered. And lastly, Lord Jon Connington inclined his head in his direction, his ginger hair tied up in a bun and revealing his light blue eyes.
Stannis walked past all of them and took his place at the head of the table. He brought his hands behind his back as he looked over each and every one of them before speaking.
"Today was half a victory. The traitor Casper Wylde has fled the field."
Gawen Grandison scratched as his beard as he turned to him. "His days are numbered, my lord. Whichever direction he turns to, he will find loyal King's men blocking his path and giving him chase. West to the Reach, South to Dorne and North to the Crownlands." he said assuredly.
Jon Connington scoffed. "Don't write the bastard off so quickly, Gawen. He may yet link up with Dondarrion and Swann to the South, or try to break through our fortifications and rush to aid the Lannisters with their siege of King's Landing to the North."
Stannis nodded, finding that sickness within his stomach still. "Which is precisely why we cannot allow his force to run amok unchecked. More Lords may answer my traitor brother's summons feeling emboldened by Wylde's defiance. Caron and Mertyns are yet to raise their banners for either side."
Silveraxe laughed, his voice booming throughout the tent. "Let them! We'll crush them in the name of the King as we have done here." he shouted with all the confidence of a war-starved buffoon seeking to make a name for himself. So much like Robert, this one.
Stannis ground his teeth. "Out of the question. This is a war. If you're to keep peddling us this warmongering nonsense instead of offering insights as to strategy, you may join the men-at-arms and leave the command tent, Ser."
"My son is just overeager for battle, Lord Baratheon. Excuse his recklessness." offered Lord Willis, glaring at his boy.
Lord Baratheon.
That title was not his, traitor brother or no. Yet, it was fitting, was it not? All those years he had served as the steward of Storm's End with Robert off gallivanting in the Vale. Some recognition for his efforts... for his rule... it was only proper. Afterall, the Lords here had never known Robert save for the occasional tourney he had organized. Stannis had been their true liege all this time. That was why they were here, heeding his call and not Robert's. In their eyes, he was Lord Baratheon.
He cursed to himself and perished the thought. No matter how big of a fool he was, Robert was still the Lord of Storm's End unless the King had dictated elsewise. The King... was not particularly known for his mercy, but Stannis would ask of him regardless. To spare Robert, at least. He... deserved that much.
Stannis waved his hand dismissively towards Lord Willis. "I shall, this once. Onto the matter at hand." he said and placed a map of the Stormlands upon the table. "Our scouts were unable to spot Casper Wylde as he made his escape, but we know he was not amongst the dead or the wounded from my survey of the field. As Lord Connington and Lord Grandison supplied, I believe he could only have gone North or South, each direction more perilous than the last."
He placed his finger on Blackhaven and tapped. "He could not have gone West, with our allies the Reachmen there. East is only the Narrow Sea. We know they originally intended to march North and aid the Lannisters, but now that we've shattered their forces, South seems their only option. They'll attempt to join the Marshers and try for the North again. They cannot stay within the Stormlands, they'd get crushed either by us or by the Dornish when they leave their deserts to join the war effort."
Jon Connington hummed approvingly. "They may try to flee into the Rainwood as well, but I doubt it. Mertyns will not aid them, he means to sit the war out."
"And he will be dealt with after the war, when we are free to remind him of the oaths he swore to the King." Stannis replied coolly, feeling anger build up against Lord Mertyns. Neutrality was the way of the craven, it was said.
They discussed their strategies for a few more hours within the tent. Their supplies and supply lines. Their equipment. The allocation for the prisoners taken after the battle. Their losses, and the enemy's losses.
Unfortunately, Stannis concluded that Casper Wylde still had the numbers to be a thorn in their side, hindering their campaign. He and his remnant army had to be dealt with before they could march North to relieve the siege of King's Landing.
The war council disbanded for the day, making Casper Wylde and the gathering Marcher army their top priority when a herald came riding into their tent escorted by Baratheon men. The herald bore the red sun of Dorne and the red Targaryen dragon for his device. Finally, good news at last.
"The Prince is coming!" shouted the man, his voice echoing all throughout the camp. "Make ready! The Prince comes to relieve King's Landing! He calls the commander of this host to parlay!"
Stannis looked towards Jon Connington, whose entire disposition had changed. The man actually smiled at him, for one. Inclining his head forward, they both mounted their steeds and cantered ahead, where the army of Dorne had begun visible over the horizon.
They rode through the corpse strewn battlefield, not talking to each other but only gazing forward at their allies ahead. While Connington was overtly relieved and excited, Stannis kept his relief more muted, although he could not deny that it had indeed been there. The Stormlands were alone no longer.
Soon, they came upon Prince Rhaegar and three other men standing at the head of their army. Stannis recognized them both. Ser Arthur Dayne and Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard and Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, all of them capable men with a head for battle. All the better for their cause.
Stannis got off his mount and absently noted Connington doing the same. They both knelt in front of the Prince and bowed their heads.
"Rise, my friends. Rise." Rhaegar told them, and they did so. The Prince looked at him with those alien Valyrian eyes of his. "Cousin Stannis. I was relieved to learn that you remembered your oaths to your King, unlike your traitorous brother." he said evenly.
Stannis nodded rigidly, bringing his hands behind his back as a soldier would. "My brother brought shame upon our House when he cast his lot with the Rebels, Your Grace. I only wish to do right by my King and follow the word of law."
The Prince gazed upon him, evaluating him when Oberyn Martell laughed. "Oh, this one's not like other men! I think he actually means what he says!"
Rhaegar ignored his good-brother as he smiled at Connington. "And Jon. I feel at ease, my friend, now that you're back at my side once more. The Realm needs men like you both. Especially so, at times like these."
Jon Connington preened under the compliment, which felt particularly out of character for Stannis. That man had always been reflective and calculated, from his experience. To see him act like this was... well, it was a shock to be quite honest.
Connington was the first lord to answer his call to arms in the name of the King and the first lord to join the host he had been assembling at Storm's End. He had proven himself to be a capable and thoughtful battle commander. He always struck Stannis as a man of few words, like he himself was, but now that he saw him talking with Prince Rhaegar, that impression had been shattered quite quickly.
"It's such a relief to see you hale, my Prince." said Connington. "We've been quelling the followers of the traitor Robert in your name."
Rhaegar smiled at his friend once more. "Thank you, my lords. I believe we can offer further balm to your efforts by telling you that we have happened upon the army of Lords Dondarrion and Swann on our way North. We had divided our forces into two, with a smaller force marching through the Boneway to ambush the traitors. They gave us battle when we were ready to do so and in the end stood no chance against the armies of the Crown. However we're short on time. News of the capital has reached our ears, and we need to make haste to relieve it." he said with conviction.
"Just so." spoke Oberyn Martell, before Stannis could process what he had heard. "You must link up your host with ours. The Lannisters must not reach within the city walls. The integrity of the Realm depends on it."
Stannis paused for a moment. They had passed through the Boneway to make haste, dividing their host. The Pass was the most treacherous in Westeros, to be sure, barring the Bridge of Skulls at the Wall. While it was possible for other people to march through it, such as his ancestor Orys Baratheon had done three hundred years ago, the Dornish held absolute domination over the Boneway and had paths only known to them. Thus, it was no surprise that they managed to pass through and descend upon the Dondarrions, Carons and Swanns, who probably hadn't expected the host from the Boneway, considering the perilous nature of the road and how hard it would be to march the full strength of Dorne from there. Total victory.
Stannis nodded in affirmation. "Our armies will join yours. WÄ°thout the Marchers, the remaining Stormlords cannot pose much of a threat, but I must insist on a token force of a few thousand remain in the Stormlands against any activity from them."
"There's no need for that. We need all the men we have to relieve King's Landing. The city gets supplies from the sea, which means Lannister will try to scale the walls instead." said Oberyn Martell, scowling, but Rhaegar raised his hand.
"I agree with Lord Stannis. We cannot leave any threats behind us, despite what's ahead. Oberyn, allocate three thousand from our host to remain here. Cousin, I hope you shall allocate the same amount for yours. These are your lands, afterall."
Stannis felt a frown settle upon his face almost immediately. "These are my brother's lands still, Prince Rhaegar. Traitor or no."
The Prince laughed softly, his silvery hair swaying slightly in the fog. "Not for much longer, Stannis. At the end of the war I shall see to it that you take your rightful place for leal service to the Crown. That's more than I can say for Robert." he said, grinning slightly.
Stannis felt unnerved, but said nothing. He kept his silence as the Prince asked Connington to join him and walked off, dismissing the rest of the party.
He kept his quiet, even when he saw the prison train of the Dornishmen passing by him as the host began to make camp next to his. He knew he owed the men within to look them straight in the eye, chained together as they were. Lords Dondarrion, Caron and Swann drilled holes into his skull with their glares of raw hatred.
He broke eye contact with them and trudged upon his way forward.
"I know you."
He looked around to discern the voice so clearly spoken at him when he came face to face with a young woman accompanied by two Dornishmen and Lewyn Martell. Gray-blue eyes bored into him from below, as he was much taller than her. Dark brown locks flew upon her face, unkempt as she kept her gaze on him. Stannis looked up at the Martell Kingsguard, who simply coughed into his fist and avoided his gaze.
"Yet I don't know you." he said at last to the woman.
She furrowed her brows at him. "Your brother Robert is a friend. He'd be ashamed to see you join the side of the tyrant."
Stannis immediately clenched his teeth at that, feeling them grind against each other. Just then, he noticed the small bump at her stomach. "He is the one who ashamed me. What are you, a whore of his? Be gone, girl, I will not take care of his bastard for you."
The girl's eyes darkened. Stannis was more than aware that she was doing her best to not slap him across the face right now.
"Robert is a friend. Unlike you, he's not following a tyrant, but follows the righteous and the just. Know that you're addressing Lyanna Stark, not a whore." she said with steely determination.
Stannis scoffed. "I am addressing a mere hostage. Bother me none, lady, I have men to command and a war to win."
He walked past her and her guard retinue, clenching his fists the whole time.
Robert, following the just? What a comical notion. That Robert would know what justice was, and he would not? The insinuation was enough to make him seethe with fury.
Perhaps he would not have been this furious without the doubt he carried around for the first time in his life.
Doubt in himself and the decisions he's made.