Chapter 37 Stannis

King Stannis Baratheon stood at the foot of the dais in the throne room in the Red Keep at King's Landing, looking up at the Iron Throne. He stepped up towards it and then ran his right hand along the arms, the seat, and the back. The surfaces of the Iron Throne were now smooth, and no barbs or sword points stuck up to injure the throne's occupant anymore. He sat on it, tested it, and then stood, and turned to look at the throne once more. He knew many would say he had done a terrible thing, that to blemish the Iron Throne was ignoble, but Stannis did not see it that way. He was improving something that should have been improved a long time ago.

"Very good work," he said to Master Mott, who was standing directly behind him, the tools of his trade lying on some canvas on the throne room floor. Two young boys, apprentices taken from other smiths and assigned to Mott, stood further back.

"I hope Your Grace is pleased," said Mott, looking up at his king.

"Quite so," Stannis replied. He turned to Mott. "You shall have all I promised." He then turned to his right, where Lord Petyr Baelish, master of coin, was standing and observing the scene. "Lord Baelish will see to the coin for the restoration of your shop."

Mott dipped his head. "Thank you, Your Grace. To repay your generosity I shall make you a new suit of armor, befitting a great king such as yourself."

Stannis snorted. "I have no need of a new suit of armor, Mott. But my men need swords and spear points and arrow heads. It would be best if you put your skills to such work until the siege is over."

"As you command, Your Grace," Mott replied with another dip of his head.

Stannis said nothing else to him as he stepped down from the dais and moved toward the small council room with Baelish at his heels. As they walked they heard a distant 'thud', barely audible inside the keep. Stannis stopped and listened, tensed up, but then seemed to relax a bit as no more thuds came.

"They are conserving their stones," he said to Baelish as they continued walking.

"It would seem so, Your Grace," Baelish replied. "Only seventeen heavy stones hit the walls or landed inside the city yesterday. Today, less than five since breakfast."

"Enough to harass us and our people but not enough to indicate a major push is coming," Stannis said. "Perhaps they are having trouble bringing in sizable stones to fling at us. Or they are conserving them for a major effort."

They were now in the small council room. Ser Davos Seaworth was waiting for them sitting at the table, as was Pycelle. They both stood as Stannis and Baelish entered.

"Sit," Stannis said right away and they did so as Stannis and Baelish joined them. Stannis took one look at Davos. "Begin."

"All is mainly the same, Your Grace," Davos told his king. "The Lannister lines have not changed since yesterday. Their catapults are still firing sporadically, mostly near the Lion Gate. There is much damage to the walls and gate from previous battles and these latest efforts. We continue to shore up the gate and wall with an inner wall of stone and timber. The streets are mostly cleared of rubble now, and all of the dead have been found, and buried or burnt. The latest figures from Lord Baelish suggest about half the population has remained, but it is hard to know how many died or how many fled. The fires killed many and left little but ash and a few bones."

"The fewer people in the city the better, as long as this siege continues," Stannis said. "What of our supply situation?"

Davos continued. "Supplies are still coming in from the sea, unimpeded. One bad spot is the Rosby Road, Your Grace. The Lannister cavalry is trying to swing around to block the re-supply from that direction and we have no cavalry to counter them."

Stannis grunted. He had expected this before long. The almost three week's old siege was at a stalemate, the Lannister attempt to retake the city beaten back with heavy losses. But they could make up their losses, bringing in men and supplies from the west on the Goldroad and floating them by barge down the Blackwater Rush. Stannis in turn could re-supply from the sea and the Rosby Road. Rosby, Duskendale and even Maidenpool had all declared for him, and had sent men to the city and Stannis had Littlefinger send out procurers to buy what food was available for sale. But Stannis had a hungry besieged population to feed as well as his army and the capital city's food supplies for winter would soon have to be tapped into if the siege continued. As Davos had said, many of the people had fled, but many had returned to try to rebuild their lives from the ruins of the city. Stannis put them all to work, clearing streets, making repairs, hauling supplies to his men on the walls and behind the great earth and timber redoubt built by the Dragon Gate. There were no idle hands in King's Landing.

Even the whores had been allowed to keep shop open, much as Stannis disapproved. His men needed entertainment in their off hours, and he knew he would have a minor rebellion on his hands if he forced the whores of King's Landing to close their legs and get off their backs. Littlefinger had profited handsomely from this, the King knew, but he did not begrudge him this. Baelish had done wonders to get the economy moving again and to organize the citizens and the incoming supplies. Stannis wondered how much of a profit he was making from the rest of this activity, but as long as things ran smoothly he did not question his master of coin too closely.

But now the city was in danger of being closed off from the northeast if the Rosby Road was closed, and that could disrupt some of their supply efforts. "How many cavalry are on the Rosby Road and who is in command?" Stannis asked his Hand.

"Our scouts estimate about three thousand cavalry under Gregor Clegane. His yellow banner with the three dogs was seen from afar."

"Clegane?" Stannis said with a hint of derision. "He is no strategist. No, I think he was sent there to terrorize the people and to lay waste to Rosby. And there is nothing we can do to stop it. We have no cavalry to speak of. Let us continue. Pycelle, I see you have two raven scrolls. What news and from who?"

"The first is from Ned Stark, Your Grace," Pycelle replied. "He is in Winterfell, but I fear the castle was attacked by ironmen and set afire."

"A warm welcome home for the former Hand of the King," Baelish quipped.

Stannis stared at Baelish but said nothing and then turned to Pycelle. "Does he say how badly was it damaged?"

"No, Your Grace. Only that his army is tired, the fall rains have come to the north, and he can offer little aid. This message has been many days on the fly, Your Grace. It is not a response to the one we sent a few days ago."

"No, it is too soon," Stannis replied and then Pycelle handed him the message and Stannis quickly read it. "So…we can expect little help from the north." He looked at Davos. "How think you of this news, my Hand? Should I command Stark to return with his army?"

"No, Your Grace," Davos said at once. "He will refuse and that would bode ill for further relations between the North and yourself. You have offered him his old titles and lands back, and I am sure he will be grateful when he gets this news. But that still does not change the facts. His army is worn out. It has marched far and has fought several battles. It's supplies are low and it will find none on the road south. The fall rains will make any such journey slow and will whittle his army through sickness and accidents. If he comes by sea the fall storms would make that journey perilous as well. And that is if his bannermen will listen to him and march south again, which I doubt very much. His bannermen are home and will not stir so easily again. Plus, the ironmen still hold parts of the north, and Stark must deal with them first."

Pycelle cleared his throat. "When a king calls for his bannermen, they must answer, no matter the circumstances. Ned Stark would never have refused Robert in such circumstances."

Stannis looked at the Grand Maester. "Would you have me punish Lord Stark? No, wise counselor, that I will not do. Davos has the right of this. Stark would lose more men through hunger, sickness, and troubles on the road, and even desertion, than he could hope to bring through to aid us. I will need his strength and men at some future date for certain, but for now we must do without them. What of the second message?"

"Yes, Your Grace. From Highgarden," Pycelle said and he handed the small raven scroll to Stannis, which Stannis opened and read immediately.

"King Stannis Baratheon. My father commanded me to write and inform you that he and his forces are on the march. You should expect them in King's Landing before the next turn of the moon. Willas Tyrell."

Stannis ground his teeth as he re-read it. "Mace Tyrell is too proud to write to me himself so had his lame son do the deed."

"You do hold his other children hostage, so I would expect no warmth from the Reach, Your Grace," Davos reminded him and Stannis gave him a sharp look but said nothing.

"He does not say how many men," Stannis said next. "The moon's turn. When will that be Pycelle?"

"Less than two weeks, Your Grace."

Stannis nodded. "Yes, it is a long march from Highgarden to here. And no doubt they will drag their feet, hoping the Lannisters will defeat us before then. It would not surprise me if Mace Tyrell has already been in touch with Ser Kevan and the Kingslayer, promising his loyalty if they rescue his children."

"The 'children' are quite secure, are they not?" Baelish asked with a look to Ser Davos.

"That they are," the onion knight replied. He looked to Stannis. "Your Grace, we promised to release the daughter when Lord Tyrell took the field."

"We cannot release her yet," Stannis replied. "She would fall into the Lannister hands and that would not do."

"No, Your Grace, indeed not," said Pycelle before Davos could answer the King. "I had a chance to talk with Ser Loras just yesterday when I examined his wound. His anger still simmers and his leg is healing well. Before long he may attempt an escape."

"Not without his sister," Stannis said. "And she is not as bold or as careless with her life as her brother. No, he will not try to escape. She will persuade him of the folly of that. Their father will help us defeat our enemies or they will never see Highgarden again."

"Ser Loras will always be resentful and will seek revenge in the future, Your Grace," Davos said.

"What would you have me do, ser? Kill him now?" Stannis asked in a tone that suggested such an idea was foolish. Then he answered his own question. "No, Ser Loras will bend the knee in the end when we make our peace with Highgarden. His father and sister and the rest will see that he does or he will die. But that is in the future. First, we must win the war."

Davos spoke up again. "As the Tyrell host gets closer, Your Grace, we need send men out to coordinate with them and make plans to attack together to raise the siege."

"For certain," Stannis replied. "But there are still many days march between now and when that will be necessary." He looked to Baelish. "What news of the Lannister intentions?"

"None, Your Grace," Baelish replied. "We have no spies in their camp. The few prisoners we captured knew little of their lords' plans except that the siege will continue until the capital is recaptured."

"And there is no word of Varys?" Davos asked Baelish. A few prisoners captured after the battle at the Lion Gate told them Varys had disappeared from the camp one night and was never found.

"None," Baelish replied. "But my opinion still stands. He has gone to Pentos. I fear he has been fermenting some scheme with his confederates there for some time, even when Robert was king."

"Varys," Stannis said as he ground his teeth again. "Never trust eunuchs. Robert knew that adage well enough, but Cersei wanted Varys here, wanted the gossip he brought her. At first. And by the time she had grown fearful and wary of the eunuch, Robert had found him indispensable."

"He was forever plotting and scheming behind your brother's back, Your Grace," Pycelle stated strongly.

"But what is he plotting and scheming now?" Davos asked. "Who are these allies of his in Pentos?"

"Illyrio Mopatis, for one," Baelish told them. "That name keeps popping up to all of my queries."

"A cheese monger and spice soldier," Stannis said with a dismissive tone. That was a phrase Tywin Lannister had once uttered in Stannis' presence, years ago, at Cersei and Robert's wedding, when some merchants from the east had come to pay homage to the new king and hoped for new trade contacts. Tywin Lannister despised them all and made his feelings clear to one and all. Illyrio Mopatis was one of those at the wedding, a fat sow of a merchant, with inexhaustible wealth which grew more each day, Stannis knew.

"A rich man with many ambitious plans, Your Grace," Baelish countered, unnecessarily. "My whisperers have also heard two names, from the past. Two Targaryen names. Rhaegar's sister and son. Daenerys and Aegon."

Pycelle scoffed. "One is dead and the other is lost in the east and may be dead as well."

"Targaryen pretenders are the least of my problems, especially if they are across the Narrow Sea," Stannis told them. "I have Lannister pretenders at my front door." The King then stood. "That is all for now. Baelish, Pycelle, see to your duties. Davos, come walk with me. We must inspect the lines."

Stannis did not even wait for them to stand or bow to him he simply started walking from the room and Davos hurried to catch up. Soon they were outside and mounted on horse, with twenty of Stannis' own spearmen on horse behind them, representing a large part of what little cavalry Stannis had left. Horses were plentiful in King's Landing, but most were draft animals used for hauling carts or pulling carriages. Few were fit to be called cavalry horses. However, some few score good horses had been in the Red Keep and had survived both battle and fire. Those cavalry men that had survived the battles were now training these few good horses in some new squadrons of cavalry but it would take time and they could not hope to equal the Lannister cavalry, in numbers or quality.

The sky was grey and smelled of rains to come, which was both good and bad. Good, because it meant the Lannisters would get wet. Bad because it meant many people in the city would get wet as well. Tents had sprung up like mushrooms in the ruins, but living in tents was not good for the health of the people. Pycelle and his assistants and the many various healers of the city had so far staved off any more serious outbreaks of illness but it would not take much in the crowded ruins to start a new epidemic.

Stannis led the party as they rode though the ruins. They headed straight for the Lion Gate as usual, and Stannis waited for Davos to protest against this but today the onion knight held his tongue on this matter. The Lion Gate was the most dangerous part of the siege lines and Stannis came here every day to make sure it still held and the men did not waver in the least. Already two captains of the gold cloaks had been hung for shirking their duties, one for drunkenness, the other for abandoning his men when the Lannisters had first attacked the Lion Gate. Such examples were necessary to keep the rest of the men from becoming an unruly mob. Mobs did not win wars, not if they faced disciplined soldiers such as the Lannisters had.

Directly near the Lion Gate a large square had been cleared of rubble and several catapults and larger trebuchets had been set up here to fling counter battery fire at the Lannister siege engines. As they approached two catapults were fired, flinging large square blocks of brick and mortared stone at the enemy. There was no lack of things to fill the catapult buckets with, as much of the city lay in ruins around them. The stench of wildfire still filled the air, almost three weeks after the fires had been put out.

Stannis had at first thought to order the surviving pots of wildfire buried in sand but Davos had changed his mind about that and it was a good thing he had. The wildfire had saved them when the Lannisters had stormed the Dragon Gate redoubt. What little of it that was left was on the walls, in small groups of pots. In the city there were no longer any large caches of it. In addition, Davos had set up fire fighting points all around the city, close to water wells, with many buckets stored nearby. Where there were no wells he brought in large casks of sea water. He used sea water, he told Stannis, so the people would not be tempted to drink it. Davos also set up fire brigands and assigned a man in each city block as fire chief, to be responsible for fire fighting duties, with promises of pay for this duty, but also promises of a rope if they abandoned their posts in time of trouble. So far, no new fires had broken out, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

The men dipped their heads and said "Your Grace" as Davos and Stannis got off their horses and climbed the stairs to the top of the gate. The interior wall of stone and dirt and timbers was blocking the gate and stretched for a further hundred feet to both sides of the gate. More men were working to make it stronger and longer. The postern door had also been blocked and the tunnels under the city were blocked or guarded as well.

As they climbed up on the battlements Davos handed Stannis a Myrish spyglass which Stannis placed to his right eye. He now got a good look at the Lannister siege lines, about three hundred feet from the city walls. Well within long range arrow shot, but few arrows flew as both sides conserved them for any coming attacks. The lines spread out and reached the Blackwater Rush to the left and disappeared around the Gate of the Gods to the right. There was just one trench, fronted by sharpened stakes in many places. From the trench spread several fingers of new diggings, trying to get closer to the walls. Some of these fingers were abandoned, but as Stannis watched a party of Lannister men was busy at the tip of one of these fingers, digging away, trying to bring their lines closer to the city. The closer they got, the shorter run they would have to the walls, the less time exposed to arrow fire from above. In front of the diggers they had placed many large baskets filled with earth and stones to protect them from arrow fire.

"Why have we not set that barrier on fire?" Stannis asked a nearby captain, pointing to the place.

"Right away, Your Grace!" the captain replied and then gave orders for fire arrows to be launched at the baskets. In a minute three fire arrows had hit them and they started to burn. Then more arrows landed among the diggers as they retreated down their trench. Stannis could not tell if any had been hit or not but the digging in that sector ended…for now.

In the trenches Stannis could see few men, just a sprinkling of troops. That meant they were not planning any attack soon. The trench line had two purposes. First, it was a jumping off point for any attack, a place where soldiers could gather and stay somewhat protected from arrow fire. Second it served as a barrier to any attacks Stannis might lead against the Lannisters. Behind the trench lines the Lannister's had further strengthened their defenses, having built a large earthen redoubt topped with sharpened stakes. Behind it lay the Lannister camp, which they could see from the heights of the walls. The camp sat there like some festering sore. Red tents and red banners with golden lions on them stuck up everywhere and from the walls they could easily see the men and horses moving about. There were also many siege engines, mainly catapults and trebuchets, but they were not firing now and were pushed back out of range of the city's own siege weapons. The Lannister men that he could see were involved in various tasks, mainly drilling, practicing at arms, and taking care of personal needs.

What they were not doing is what bothered Stannis. He could see no evidence of tall ladders or high siege towers, nothing designed to attack his walls. Either they weren't planning to attack the walls or they were somehow deceiving Stannis.

"Still no siege towers or ladders," Stannis said to Davos as he handed him the spyglass. Davos took it and swept along the lines and then took it from his eye.

"Nothing," he said. "They are not planning anything it seems."

"Or they are planning to attack from somewhere else," Stannis replied. "The tunnels are secure? There is no sign of mining?"

"None, Your Grace, but I will check again."

"See to it."

Davos handed him the spyglass again and then left him. Stannis was glad to have the smuggler by his side, a man who was not afraid to speak his mind and knew how to present hard truths to his king. A king needed such a man, Stannis knew, which is why he offered the post of Hand of the King to Davos and not his wife's uncle or any other family member. When they had heard this news on Dragonstone they had been aghast, he knew. He received a sharp letter from his wife, wondering why he had not picked any of her kin, as was expected. He did not bother to reply, hoping his silence was enough to let her know she was meddling where she did not belong.

As for her kin, many were either in the city or on ships in the bay, doing their duty for their new king. He avoided them where possible, but had to deal with some of them. Stannis tolerated them but none were asked to sit on his council. Another snub, to be sure, but he had three men to advise him and that was enough. Any more would produce useless chatter and cause many petty rivalries as he had seen well enough on Robert's small council. Varys, Baelish and Pycelle were always sniping at each other like a bunch of old women and some days it got so bad Stannis had just wanted to drive a dagger into all their hearts. Robert had never been there of course, and Jon Arryn had done little to stop the nonsense that took up more time than the real business of the realm. But that was all in the past. It was his small council now, his realm to rule. If he could defeat the Lannisters.

Stannis observed the lines again with the spyglass and as he watched a man on horseback mounted the earth redoubt. He was wearing white armor and Stannis knew at once it was Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. He sat on his horse without his helmet on, his golden hair and fine features easy to see. He grinned and waved to the city and then turned around and seemed to shout something.

At that moment a large dark object flew out of the camp and came hurtling towards the city. Stannis could see it arch high and then come down, and now knew it was not a stone, but an animal of some sort, and as it got closer he knew it was a horse. A dead horse.

It landed with a 'splat' behind the walls in the square where the catapults were. The horse had been dead awhile and its innards burst on impact with the stones of the square and blood and viscera flew in all directions. At once Stannis knew what they were up to.

"BURN IT!" he shouted to the men who stood nearby, some of them covered with blood and rotting guts. Two men were immediately sickened and began to heave up their breakfast. Stannis hurried down to the street level and quickly ordered oil brought. A barrel was fetched and the remains of the dead horse covered in it and set on fire. Stannis ordered the men to wash the street and those who had been hit with blood and guts were ordered to strip their clothing and it was burned as well. Then he told the same men to head to the baths and have a good hot soaking.

At that point Davos appeared again, looking at the burning remains of the horse. "New tactics?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at the stench of burning rotting horse flesh.

"A dead horse," Stannis told him. "Foul, and crawling with illness no doubt."

Davos nodded. "Fire is the only thing for it."

Stannis looked at the catapults and trebuchets standing nearby. "Give them some fire in return. Real fire. Wildfire. On their camp. The trebuchets can reach it?"

"Aye," Davos replied. "Maybe a light load of a few pots will make them think twice of sending anymore dead animals our way."

"See to it," Stannis commanded. It was soon done. Stannis observed from the city walls as four pots of wild fire were flung high in the air and landed. One hit the Lannister trench, one hit the top of the redoubt, and two landed in the Lannister camp. They had hit some source of flame or heat because soon they saw the smoke of a fire. But it did not last long and Stannis could see only one tent burning, which was quickly consumed and then the fires died.

The Kingslayer soon returned to the redoubt top on his horse. He gave a little mock bow and then turned around and went back to his camp. No more dead horses or anything else came over the walls the rest of the day, and Stannis sent no more wildfire. Stalemate once more.

Davos reported that the tunnels were secure and there were no signs of mining. The rest of the day Stannis and Davos spent inspecting the lines, moving about the city, making sure the people saw them and knew who was in command here. They stopped long enough for a short lunch break and then continued, this time near the Mud Gate.

The Lannisters were across the Blackwater Rush opposite the Mud Gate and covered the nearby docks with arrow and catapult fire so all supplies had to be landed by small boat near the Iron Gate. It was slow and cumbersome and took many men to man handle the supplies ashore and into the city.

This problem vexed both Stannis and Ser Davos but they had no solution. They could easily land a force with the many ships they had, but the lack of cavalry was a problem once again. Their forces were stretched thin as it was and they had no men to spare to extend their lines to the south bank of the Blackwater Rush where the Lannisters could easily outnumber them quickly.

"If only Storm's End had fallen first before we had to attack the Tyrells and then King's Landing," Stannis said as they observed the Lannister lines across the river from atop the Mud Gate. "Then the garrison there could come up behind these Lannisters and force them out."

"There is still no word from Ser Cortnay Penrose, Your Grace," Davos said. "But he may bend the knee yet. If you agree to his terms."

"Terms?" Stannis growled. "He is castellan of Storm's End, a servant to my family. Those men he commands are my men. Who is he to ask for terms from his liege lord and king?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I need speak plainly here."

"I expect nothing less, Ser Davos. Say what you will."

"Ser Cortnay served your brother for many years and no doubt loved him. And you had your brother assassinated, Your Grace, so he may harbor ill feelings there," Davos began.

"Renly should have bent the knee as well," Stannis replied in a gruff tone. Speaking of Renly bothered Stannis but he controlled his rising anger.

"Aye, Your Grace, he should have, but what is done is done. This other problem is what may keep Ser Cortnay from supporting you. He guards King Robert's bastard son, has raised him and no doubts loves the boy. Yet you demanded he hand Edric Storm over to you when we stood before the walls of Storm's End."

"I mean no harm to the boy. He is of my own blood, whether he be a bastard or not." A boy bred in his own wedding bed, on his wedding night, Stannis knew, by his own brother and some whorish daughter of a nobleman. Robert had to acknowledge this one, had to because the mother was of a high birth. And now the red woman wanted Edric Storm for her own purposes. She wanted his blood, and promised Stannis he could defeat his rivals if he gave her this boy with royal blood in his veins.

"Ser Cortnay believes otherwise," Ser Davos replied to Stannis' last comment.

"Yes," Stannis said. "And he is a stubborn old man. He should be begging me for his forgiveness, yet he still resists. With Renly dead, and with no heir, Storm's End passes to me. Ser Cortnay knows this by all the laws of the kingdoms."

"I am sure he does, Your Grace. And if we let the boy be, perhaps Ser Cortnay will bend the knee and send his garrison to our aid."

Stannis snorted and then decided. "Get Pycelle to write the message and send it on the morrow. Tell Ser Cortnay the boy will remain in Storm's End and no harm will ever come to him by my hand if Ser Cortnay bends the knee and sends the garrison to the Kingswood to harass the Lannisters."

"I will do it at once, Your Grace. By your leave." Stannis nodded and then Davos was gone. The King and his escort returned to the Red Keep. Later, Stannis met Baelish to go over some matters of supply and finance and then he dined alone. After it grew dark, he went to the main courtyard of the Red Keep for the nightly rituals.

Melisandre was there as were many of his officers and men who had taken the Lord of Light for their god. Some of them were from the city, and had recently accepted the new god. Stannis knew not if they believed or if they were only seeking his favor. If they thought by changing their religion they would win points with him they were sadly mistaken and did not know him well. Stannis only rewarded those who served him first in some manner, and did not give favors or offices to any who thought they deserved it because of high birth or past achievements. Already several office seekers had been turned away, with warnings not to return until they had done some duty for their new king.

The center of the courtyard was blackened with the nightly fires. From a gibbet hung an iron cage, which was blackened as well, and also contained the ash from the bodies she was burning in it. Stannis had ground his teeth when she had asked for prisoners to sacrifice and then curtly told her to do as she wished. The first time a Lannister man had been dragged to the cage he didn't understand what was happening. No one in Westeros burned prisoners alive, at least not since the Mad King was killed. As soon as he understood he began to scream and beseech them, saying he would bend the knee and that his family would ransom him handsomely. But Stannis said nothing and watched as the man roasted and Melisandre chanted and many of the followers did as well. His death took a long twenty minutes and the burning man's screams were no doubt heard over much of the city.

By the next night the Lannister prisoners held in the cells below the Red Keep seemed to know what was awaiting them above and when the gaolers opened the doors the prisoners rushed them in a mass. They killed two gaolers with their bare hands and rushed the other guards and for a good hour fighting had raged below the Red Keep. But eventually all prisoners were either killed or subdued. Stannis had lost twelve men in the rampage. After that, all surviving prisoners were bound hand and foot and left to starve and sit in their own urine and feces. At first, they were given some water in buckets so they would still be alive for their sacrifices at least. One man drown himself in a bucket and another tried to beat his brains in on a wall, so after that the prisoners were watched all day so no more killed themselves.

Each night the fires burned and one prisoner was sacrificed. One by one they were dragged to the cage to die in agony and now only one remained. The last one was dragged into the courtyard. He was thin and reeked badly. He had fair hair and brown eyes, and seemed in his mid-thirties but it was hard to tell under his growth of beard and shaggy hair. He was strangely quiet, unlike the others who had begged and cried for their lives.

"Stop," Stannis said and the men dragging the prisoner stopped. Stannis looked at him. "Who are you?"

The prisoner looked at him with bleary eyes. He has not slept much Stannis knew. I wouldn't either if I knew what horrible fate awaited me.

"Ser Royce…Hill," he said, saying his last name reluctantly.

One of Stannis' officers growled. "This is your king! Address him as Your Grace!"

Ser Royce snorted. "He is not my king."

The officer went to hit him but Stannis held up a hand and the officer stopped. Stannis stared at Ser Royce.

"A bastard knight of the Westlands," said Stannis to him. "Ser Royce, who made you a knight?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister, the day before I was taken prisoner. He made over one hundred of us knights that day."

Stannis grunted. Any knight could make another knight, and Ser Jaime had done it to give pride to the men and make them fight harder. But it had not helped this one. "Why do you fight for the Lannisters and their false king?" Stannis asked.

"They are my liege lords. As for who is king, I do not care."

"Do you want to live?" Stannis asked.

"Yes. But I know I will die as the others did."

"Yet you do not seem afraid or ask for mercy."

"I have made my peace with the Seven," Ser Royce said calmly. "I will go to my death knowing that the Mother will comfort me and the Father will accept me into heaven and carry away all my burdens."

"Blasphemy!" shouted an officer and others joined him in shouting at the man. "There is only one god!" shouted another.

Melisandre, strangely quiet until now, approached Ser Royce. "If you accept the Lord of Light as your savoir I will spare you."

For a moment Stannis thought the man would agree but then Ser Royce shook his head. "That would only be words," he said. "I will not believe it. Do as you will with me, but I will not forsake my gods, not even in the face of death."

"As you wish," Stannis said, and for some strange reason he admired the man's courage. But he could not make an exception for him and he nodded towards the cage. Ser Royce was put in it and the cage was locked shut and then swung on its iron gibbet over a pile of wood and coal on the ground. Then Melisandre did something unexpected. A soldier with the fiery heart on his surcoat gingerly carried a pot of wildfire to her and she took it.

Stannis sucked in his breath and fought to control his temper. "What is that doing here?"

"It's fire is strong," she replied, her eyes aglow in the torch light. "It has given you your victory, Your Grace. Fire gives us light and light pushes back the darkness. There is no stronger source of fire in this city than wildfire. By using it we honor R'hllor."

Stannis was about to protest but then held back his words. It was just one pot, and the courtyard was all stone with nothing there to burn expect what was under the cage. Still, as she poured the wildfire on the wood and coal, he saw more than a few of her loyal followers step back some more from the iron cage. Inside it, Ser Royce had his eyes closed and his lips were moving fast, no doubt silently praying for a quick death. Perhaps with this wildfire he would get his wish.

Melisandre stepped back from the pile of wood and coal now soaked with the green wildfire liquid. She raised her arms and began her chanting and then in a sudden movement flung her arms at the pile of fuel. Sparks shot from her hands, hit the pile of wildfire soaked wood and coal, and it instantly burst into a roaring inferno.

As the green fire leaped up to the cage, the heat of it made them all flinch and stepped back some more. Except for Melisandre, that is, who seemed to almost grow in size as she screamed out her prayers to her lord. The men joined her in the ritual words as did Stannis.

Inside the cage Ser Royce let out a long scream of agony. In seconds his clothing was on fire and his hair and his skin was being destroyed. It was all over in less than a minute. Unlike the others who took a long time to roast and die, Ser Royce's death was quick. Perhaps his gods were listening to him after all, Stannis thought.

When it was over and all that remained was ash, and they had chased away the darkness once again, Stannis and Melisandre returned to his quarters. He poured some wine for her while he drank lemon water as they sat at a table.

"That man did not give up his gods so easily, not even when faced with an agonizing death," Stannis told her. "The rest of the people of the Seven Kingdoms will not either."

"In time they will," she replied. "They will come to love the Lord of Light as they love their precious seven. When the great battle comes, they will be glad the Lord of Light and his champion King Stannis Baratheon are at their side."

She had spoken of this often yet he still only had a vague idea what battle she was referring to and had no idea when it would happen. She had said little of the details of it and spoke mainly in vague terms. But one thing he did know was that the people of Westeros would not bend to this new god so easily, even when faced with a great enemy. Ser Royce proved that.

"They will resist, no matter what we do," Stannis told her.

"Then perhaps we should make more wildfire for these reluctant ones."

"Wildfire is no toy," he said at once.

"I did not play with it," the red woman replied.

"It is a tool, to be used to defeat our enemies, not for rituals."

"It is a tool, yes, Your Grace, but it is also fire, and R'hllor needs fire. Fire will defeat his enemy, the other we do not speak of. When the time of the great battle comes, only fire will defeat the enemy."

"When?" he asked in frustration. "When will this great battle happen?"

"In time, my King. We must be ready. Westeros must be ready. And we will need fire to destroy our enemy."

"There is no stronger fire than wildfire," Stannis told her, still frustrated at her lack of more detailed answers.

"No, Your Grace, there is one other source…dragon breath."

Stannis grunted. "All of the dragons are dead, more than one hundred years ago."

She looked at him in slight surprise. "Your Grace, it seems your intelligence services have failed you."

"Speak plainly, woman. You know I have no stomach for riddles," he snapped, his frustrations boiling over. Stannis could never stand anyone who tried to be clever with words. Tyrion Lannister had been the worse, Varys as well, and he never enjoyed either man's company when both had lived in the capital in the past.

Melisandre did not take offense at his tone but spoke as he wished. "I have had word from the east, from my brethren. Daenerys Targaryen lives. And she has three dragons."

"Impossible," Stannis said at once. "She died in the Dothraki Sea. Did she not?"

"No…she and some of her loyal followers and a Westerosi knight are now in Qarth. Or at least they were many weeks past. And she has the dragons. There is no doubt of that. People I know, people I trust, have seen them and her. So have many sailors. Word is spreading. Other words say she is gathering an army, to come here, to take back what her father lost to your brother."

Stannis ground his teeth. "Robert should have killed her ages ago."

"Did he not try?"

"He did, but failed. Varys no doubt had a hand in warning her of any plots in the past."

"Varys has a role to play in all of this yet. But I do not see him clearly in my fires."

"Baelish thinks he is in Pentos."

"Pentos," she replied. "But he will not stay there long. He will seek out this Targaryen."

"So what if he does?" Stannis replied. "They are thousands of leagues away on the other side of the world."

"As was I once. Yet here I sit."

Stannis knew what that meant. "It will be many months, maybe years before she can come here. And with what army?"

"With three dragons she needs no army."

"If I remember my history, dragons are not born fully grown. It will take time for them to become dangerous."

"And then they will fly over your city and reduce it to ash again."

He glared at her. Was she trying to frighten him or did she truly believe this would happen? "What have you seen?"

"Nothing. Yet," she said and then drank the rest of her wine. "But that is the future, my King. We have enemies before us now. I wish to help you in this battle."

Stannis had resisted her offers so far. She could send fire at them, he knew, but the Lannisters were wary of this trick and once they saw the grey mist approaching they would abandon their camp. And to do so drained her greatly. After the attack on the Tyrell camp she was not herself for many days after. "There is naught you can do for now. They will not parley. And if your powers kill Ser Kevan, the Kingslayer will take his place and others are equally capable. I wish you to conserve your strength in case of another assault. Then you can burn as many as you wish."

"As R'hllor demands," she said. She stood and her red robes shimmered around her voluptuous body and Stannis could not help but stare. He was not made of stone as he knew men whispered behind his back. He desired women as did most men, but he controlled his urges. Unlike his older brother, who had every woman who would have him.

Melisandre saw his look. "My King, if you wish, we may…"

"No," he said at once. "Those other times it was necessary…to defeat my enemies." His younger brother…his enemy. Tywin Lannister…his enemy.

She stepped toward him and he could feel the heat from her and it only increased his desire. She ran the back of her hand on his cheek and he almost flinched from her touch but did not. "Come, my King" she said in a seductive tone. "Come and let me take away your burdens for one night."

She removed her robes and she was naked underneath and then stern King Stannis Baratheon, First of his Name, could not control his urges anymore and soon he was lost to the world as he let the red woman ease his burdens for one night.

In the morning she was gone and Stannis lay in his bed for a while. He tried to fight it but feelings of guilt came none the less. Stannis Baratheon rarely regretted anything. But he had taken a vow to a woman he loved and now three times he had broken that vow. It might be time to send for his wife and daughter before he let this become a habit. The red woman's touch would drive any man mad with desire, and Stannis could not fall under her spell any more than he already had. He was still king, and to be king he needed to be in control.

He arose when a guard knocked to say breakfast was ready. Stannis quickly dressed and let the servant in with his meal. It was only then he noticed the rain.

"It is raining?" he asked the servant, a young girl with brown hair and nice blue eyes.

"Yes…yes, Your Grace," she said. "It has rained all night."

The girl placed the tray on his table and then left. Stannis stepped to his balcony and saw great sheets of rain falling from the skies. He could not see the next tower let alone any of the city or the Lannister siege lines. This was not good.

Stannis quickly ate some bread and cheese and gulped some water and then called for his squire and dressed in his armor and strapped on his dagger and sword. As he was leaving, Davos was approaching his quarters.

"We can't see a thing from the walls, Your Grace," he said at once.

"What reports from the night?" Stannis asked as they walked down the stairs.

"Nothing unusual," Davos replied. "The rains began late, and continued all night. We have some flooding in the streets but nothing major. But when day came and the rain continued reports came to me that the men could not see much of anything beyond a few yards from the walls."

"The Lannisters could use this as cover to get right under our walls."

"As I was thinking, Your Grace. The walls are fully manned and all defenses are on full alert."

"Good. Let us go to the Lion Gate."

They got very wet as did the escort, and soon they were standing in the driving rain on top of the Lion Gate. They could see maybe twenty yards in front of their hands but no further. There was no sign of the Lannisters anywhere. All morning the army manned the walls, with groups taking turns to go under cover for thirty minutes at a time to get a bit dry and have some food and drink. After three hours of this Stannis' patience worn thin.

"Send out patrols," he told Davos. "By the Gate of the Gods and the King's Gate."

Davos issued the orders and then returned to Stannis' side. Twenty minutes later they heard from the mist the clop of horse hoofs galloping hard , coming nearer. Soon a rider appeared at the bottom of the wall by the Lion Gate. Stannis shouted down to him.

"What of the Lannisters?"

"Gone, Your Grace!" the soldier shouted back. "Their whole army is gone!"

By noon the rains had let up and the mist rose and they could plainly see that the siege lines were empty, as was the Lannister camp. Stannis and Davos rode out the Gate of the Gods with a strong escort. Soon they crossed the muddy fields and then the trench lines on planks and entered the remains of the Lannister camp. All that was left were latrine pits and midden heaps. Not a tent or banner or arrow shaft remained. Even the siege engines were gone. But they had left behind a several piles of large stones, perhaps too heavy to carry off in a hurry.

"Could this be a trap of some kind, ser?" Stannis asked.

"I know not, Your Grace," Davos replied. "My experience with war on land is somewhat limited."

Stannis knew this was true. He shouted orders to send out further patrols to find out where the Lannisters were. Just then a rider came up to them from the north.

"Your Grace, we have had news of a battle at Rosby," the man said after he pulled up.

"Tell me it all," Stannis commanded.

"The Mountain's men attacked the town two days past, Your Grace. They sacked it, but many of the people took refuge in the castle, so there were few losses. Much of the town was burned and many supplies carried away."

"They did not attack the castle?" Davos asked.

"No, my Lord Hand," the man answered. "They only stayed a few hours and then rode west."

West, Stannis thought. West was Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Were they all heading west? And why?

The scouts and patrols came back and there was no sign of the Lannisters. The Blackwater was empty of barges, the men across the river were gone as well, and the tracks and roads west were muddy but showed few signs of passage. The rains had taken care of that.

Stannis immediately ordered the Lannister siege lines destroyed and men worked at it all day and the next, filling in the trench with dirt from the redoubt. The docks were opened up and ships pulled right up the Blackwater to them to land supplies. He sent a strong force to Rosby to see what aid they could give. Then on the fourth day since the Lannisters left, riders approached the city carrying banners from the Reach. Their leader was taken immediately to the small council chamber where Stannis and the others were meeting.

"Highgarden has come to save us at last," Baelish quipped when the man was led into the room. "Too bad you are late and the battle is over."

The man ignored Baelish as he looked at Stannis. He was tall and had sandy hair and a thick beard. His surcoat bore the sigil of house Rowan, a golden tree.

The man dipped his head. "Your Grace, I am Ser William Rowan, nephew to Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove."

Stannis barely remembered him from some tournament or another years ago, where Robert had unseated him in the first tilt. "Welcome, Ser William. What news from Highgarden?"

"Our host is perhaps a week's march from here, Your Grace. But Lord Tyrell bid me ride fast here. One of our patrols captured some Lannister men south of the Goldroad. Other patrols saw barges filled with Lannister soldiers rowing upstream on the Blackwater."

"Heading west?" Davos asked.

"Yes…my lord," Ser William answered, looking a bit puzzled at the speaker.

"This is Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King," Pycelle told him.

"My Lord Hand," Ser William said to Davos with a dip of his head. "Yes, they are heading west."

"Why? What did the prisoners say?" Stannis asked quickly.

"They say that Lannisport is under attack. They were going to save their people."

Stannis felt his heart pounding now. This was too good to be true. He stood and stared at the messenger. "Under attack? By who?"

"Victarion Greyjoy, they say, Your Grace. He led the Iron Fleet right into Lannisport."