Dragonstone, The Painted Table Room.
Lord Stannis Baratheon cast a sharp-eyed glance at Gawen, then gave a slight nod. "Good day, young man. Will you be able to complete the task issued by King Robert?"
His cheekbones were sunken, lips pale, thin, and tightly drawn—as if he'd long forgotten how to smile.
Stannis had clearly taken a liking to his abilities... Gawen's brown eyes quivered. He hesitated.
Gawen Crabb Lannister Tyrell wondered if he ought to tack on a Baratheon at the end now.
Stannis, second son of Lord Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont, had an older brother, Robert, and a younger brother, Renly.
At the age of thirteen, Stannis watched helplessly as his parents' ship, the Windproud, sank in Shipbreaker Bay on their return from Essos. From that day on, he had cursed the Seven Gods, vowing never to pray to any deity cruel enough to drown his parents.
During Robert's Rebellion, he held Storm's End under siege conditions against the Reach's forces. Yet Robert praised Eddard Stark for lifting the siege instead of honoring his brother's endurance.
He later captured Dragonstone, but Robert, despite knowing Viserys and Daenerys had already fled before the conquest, blamed Stannis for letting them escape.
Though Robert granted Dragonstone to Stannis, he gave the richer Storm's End to their youngest brother, Renly. Stannis took this as an insult—but his loyalty to the realm remained steadfast.
Stannis waved his hand. "Leave us."
Led by Davos, the attendants bowed and exited. Only Stannis and Gawen remained.
Gawen's tone was composed. "Lord Stannis, this is a burden I cannot refuse."
Tap, tap... Stannis descended from his stone seat, his imposing figure moving to stand beside the table.
Gawen noticed his gaze fall on the carved map of Westeros.
"Lord Gawen," said Stannis, "I can have the king rescind your mission."
Was he about to say, if only you swear your loyalty to me?
Stannis had an overwhelming presence. Gawen didn't want to be forced into a difficult choice.
And if the mission were canceled... what would happen to his 150,000 gold dragons?
He had to steer Stannis away from such dangerous thoughts.
With a sigh, Gawen replied, "Lord Stannis, I dislike deceit. It makes me feel false. At first, yes, I did consider avoiding this mess. From my perspective, it seemed uncalled for."
He paused, shook his head, and continued, "But then I chose to accept. After all, it concerns the realm—and I didn't want to put Queen Cersei in a difficult position. It's a matter of honor."
Tap, tap... Gawen stepped to the side of the table as well. "Besides being time-consuming and strenuous, I see no other obstacles. The Red Keep has burned through gold for over a decade—yet nothing's improved. I'm curious why."
Stannis snorted. "Fools and parasites. Don't trouble yourself over it."
Gawen said plainly, "Which is why I wish to do what little I can, even if it's insignificant."
Stannis looked up from the map and stared at him.
Noticing this, Gawen also looked up, as if his words had been nothing but a passing thought.
Stannis seemed to see a younger version of himself in Gawen... and began to suspect there was intent behind his words.
He'd seen through countless schemers—but none had escaped his judgment.
Yet even as he doubted Gawen's sincerity, Gawen had skillfully shifted his focus.
Now Stannis's eyes held an open scrutiny.
Gawen raised his hands lightly. "My lord, should I take my leave?"
"You're an interesting young man," said Stannis, "far more so than I expected."
He tapped the edge of the table with a finger. "Lord Gawen, I toured the Queen's District in King's Landing. Your governance there was commendable."
"I simply suppressed unrest quickly to gain a temporary peace. I handed it over to the Red Keep before I left."
Stannis tilted his head. "Do you like King's Landing?"
Gawen shrugged. "Not as much as I did at first. At first, it was thrilling... but then it became exhausting."
Stannis nodded. "Insightful, Lord of Whispering Hill."
Gawen kept a neutral expression but was now pondering why Stannis would suddenly ask that.
Then it hit him.
With a sigh of resignation, he said, "If I'm honest, my lord, this title leaves me somewhat disappointed. I thought I would be made Lord of the Crab Claw Peninsula."
A hush fell over the hall.
Stannis frowned. "That land is... unique. You have your own traditions. The Red Keep can't even handle mildly complex matters these days."
Turning, he added, "Lord Gawen, your abilities are exceptional. I can offer you the chance to put them to use."
Gawen blinked. "A chance?"
Stannis gave a slight nod. "I intend to restore justice to the Red Keep. I can take you with me."
From a spoiled noblewoman to a relentless workaholic?
This wasn't something to hesitate over.
With a hand on his chest, Gawen said, "My lord, I thank you for your regard. But the Crab Claw Peninsula has always pledged its loyalty directly to Her Grace, the Queen."
Sharp-eyed as ever, Gawen noticed Stannis's lips twitch, ever so slightly. "Are you refusing my invitation? Have you not considered that I might be trying to save you?"
Save me? Gawen now confirmed that Stannis had his sights set on the office of Hand. And it wasn't just that—he must've caught wind of something serious.
Gawen's mind raced. It had to be about Queen Cersei.
In the original tale, Stannis suspected that Robert's three royal children were not his by blood. He shared this suspicion with Jon Arryn, who then launched an investigation.
Despite the gap in their rank, Stannis hadn't dismissed Gawen—in fact, he was treating him with respect.
At least outwardly.
But Gawen wasn't so naïve. Stannis, too, was a player of the game.
And then came the answer.
Stannis said coolly, "King Robert doesn't trust me. And if I act, it would be seen as a conspiracy. So I entrusted the matter to Lord Jon Arryn—gave him a chance to guard his honor."
Gawen looked stunned, but inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Stannis hadn't said it outright—but it was enough.
Should things erupt, today's words would earn Gawen's allegiance.
And Gawen had realized something else.
Stannis didn't bother with deception. He valued Gawen's abilities, yes, but that wasn't the core reason.
Stannis wanted his troops.
He was already preparing for potential conflict—or a Lannister counterstrike.
When war comes, military nobles rise in influence—and great men grow patient.
Hmm... is my Crab Claw Peninsula no longer a secret either?
Tap, tap... Stannis returned to his stone seat.
He looked at Gawen. "You've surprised me, Lord Gawen. I see promise in you. But there's no rush. You still carry King Robert's mission. Mundane tasks are often the best training. When you return to me again, your questions will find their answers."
He gestured toward the doors.
Soon after, Davos reentered the chamber.
"Davos, my meeting with Lord Gawen is finished. Prepare fine food and wine. See to it that he is well treated."
The noble bearing of Lord Stannis was evident.
In Westeros, status, bloodline, and rank were akin to law.
By custom, this was already more courtesy than expected—and Gawen knew not to resent it. He saw things as they were. After all, he was the outsider here.
Still, he found himself quietly missing Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden.
Red Keep, Afternoon.
Lancel Lannister, looking pale and exhausted, finally found a moment of peace—and bumped into Jaime.
He instinctively felt a pang of guilt.
"Good day, cousin Jaime."
Jaime, knowing Lancel hadn't had it easy, didn't find his demeanor strange.
"Good day, Lancel. You look tired. Are you all right?"
"With all I have to do for House Lannister, I'll manage," Lancel replied solemnly.
Jaime cared for his kin—but in this case, he couldn't step in.
Lancel's weakness was an issue. A lion who couldn't roar would be cast out. Still, this was a good trial. Every lion must learn.
Jaime clapped his shoulder. "Where are you headed?"
"I meant to congratulate Lord Gawen, but only now remembered he already sent word he left the city.
I know he's heading across the Narrow Sea. Do you know when he might return?"
Jaime patted him again. "Could be a while. He told me about your help. You were brave—not even the stag frightened you."
That rare praise lit up Lancel's eyes. "Ah! I owed him. That day I saw a chance, and though there were too many watching, I managed to hint to him. He understood right away. What a relief! And then... and then..."
Jaime watched his cousin babble on. His smile twitched.
He clapped Lancel's shoulder again—harder this time. "I've got things to do."
And with a whirl of his white cloak, he walked off, not waiting for a reply.
Lancel rubbed his sore shoulder, puzzled by Jaime's abrupt exit.
Maegor's Garden.
As always, birds chirped and flowers bloomed.
Jaime saw a flash of red and smiled. He walked toward Cersei.
The queen frowned and snapped a flower stem.
"Don't like that one?" Jaime teased. "Shall I have the gardeners replace it?"
Cersei withdrew her hand. "Forget it. I hate waiting."
"What happened?" he asked gently.
Cersei glanced at him. "Tyrrek told me Robert sent a hand-written letter to Winterfell. The messenger already left in secret. Tyrrek only found out by chance."
Tyrrek Lannister, son of Tygett and Darlessa Marbrand, had become Robert's squire at eleven thanks to Cersei's arrangements.
Jaime frowned. "Why not use a raven? It's far."
Cersei snapped another stem, her voice cold. "That drunkard doesn't trust anyone in the Red Keep—except old Jon."
"Careful not to hurt that pretty hand," Jaime warned.
Cersei extended it toward him. "Ser knight, clean it for your queen."
The sap left faint marks on her fair skin.
"My hands are made for a sword, not fine work," Jaime said. "Even by accident, I wouldn't want to harm you."
With a huff, Cersei pulled her hand back. "Jaime, take this seriously. I want to know what that drunkard's scheming."
"We can't intercept it now," he said. "Don't underestimate Robert."
Cersei's voice darkened. "And what is Lancel doing? He's with Robert day and night—just to pour wine? Even Tyrrek proved more alert."
Jaime thought of his earlier encounter, but didn't say a word.
To placate her, he half-joked, "Should I write to Gawen? He might not even need to read the letter to guess what's in it. He's good at that."
He considered Tyrion—but knew better than to mention him.
Cersei looked tempted, then shook it off.
She wouldn't let anyone think she needed Gawen.
After a moment, she snapped another flower. "That drunkard's a disgrace. Always reacting, never acting. It's infuriating!"
The Next Day, Mermaid's Port.
The merchant vessel carrying Gawen and his men slowly docked at the pier.
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