At the bustling port of Tyrosh, a tall ship flying the banner of the Crowned Stag slowly glided into its berth, finally settling with the creak of thick mooring ropes.
The gangplank was lowered, and Stannis Baratheon, Great Lord of Dragonstone, was the first to set foot on Tyroshi soil. His skin was darkened by sun and sea, his face cold and rigid, and his thin lips pressed into a hard, straight line.
To his left walked a tall, striking young man with golden hair flowing freely in the wind. He was clad in brilliant white enamelled armor, one hand resting casually but firmly on the hilt of his sword. His green eyes swept across the harbor, sharp and hostile. This was Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, accompanying Stannis on the King's command.
Behind Stannis on his right followed a plain-looking, wiry man of middle years. His brown hair and hazel eyes matched his unremarkable features, though his thick, graying beard lent him a calm, steady air. This was Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight—Stannis's most trusted man.
Behind them marched a detachment of knights and soldiers, silent and grim, their polished armor gleaming coldly beneath the sunlight.
At the dock, the Seven Kingdoms' delegation, who had been waiting, immediately stepped forward to greet them.
Littlefinger wore his usual faint smile, his gray-green eyes flicking toward Stannis's expressionless, frozen face.
"Lord Stannis, you must be weary from your voyage. Lord Eddard sent us to receive you."
At the mention of "Lord Eddard," the muscles in Stannis's jaw clenched tight, his expression turning even more frigid, as though the air itself had turned to ice. He knew full well that Robert's bond with Eddard Stark ran deeper than blood—closer than the affection he ever showed his own brother.
And that was precisely why Robert had sent him to sign the treaty.
The thought deepened the bitter resentment festering in Stannis's chest.
His mind drifted back to the war over a decade past. He remembered being trapped in Storm's End by Paxter Redwyne's fleet, the siege lasting so long they had nearly eaten the rats in the cellars to survive. Had it not been for Ser Davos risking his life to smuggle in a shipload of onions and salted fish, Stannis would have perished.
And when the war finally ended, instead of rewarding him, Robert granted Storm's End to young Renly, while sending Stannis off to rule the damp, barren island of Dragonstone. All because Robert blamed him for letting Viserys and Daenerys escape.
Then came another memory—his wedding day. Robert had taken a Florent girl to Stannis's own marriage bed and sired a bastard on her. Stannis had felt nothing but humiliation.
Now, on this campaign concerning the Stepstones, Robert had once again dismissed him, denying him command of the royal forces in the Small Council. Instead, he gave the title of commander to Paxter Redwyne—the very man who had once starved him.
And now, with the Iron Throne defeated and forced to sign a shameful peace with the easterners, Robert had chosen to send him—the despised brother—to bear the disgrace, sparing Eddard Stark from humiliation.
All of it had bred nothing but cold fury in Stannis's heart.
He pulled his thoughts back and ignored Littlefinger's pleasantries, giving him only a cold glance. "Take us to the Easterner."
...
Inside the grand palace, Eddard Stark stood waiting, solemn and straight-backed.
When Stannis and his retinue entered, Eddard stepped forward, his voice low and heavy with restrained emotion. "Lord Stannis, you've finally arrived. The King of Tyrosh ordered us to receive you here."
Stannis acted as though he hadn't heard a word. His stony face didn't shift, and his eyes passed straight over Eddard—as if he were nothing but air.
A shadow flickered across Eddard's face. His lips pressed into a thin line. He knew well that Robert's choices had already driven a deep, unbridgeable rift between them.
The tense silence was suddenly broken by a growl filled with anger.
Jaime Lannister stepped forward, green eyes blazing with cold fury as he fixed his gaze on Eddard. "Where is that Easterner? He killed one of ours—you know that, don't you, Lord Stark?"
Eddard's brow furrowed, irritation tightening in his chest.
Stafford Lannister, father of Jason Lannister, had been the brother of Jaime's grandfather, Tytos Lannister. By blood, that made Stafford Jaime's uncle—a close relative indeed.
Yet Eddard still couldn't fathom why Robert had chosen to send a Lannister to join this embassy in the first place.
Eddard could only answer helplessly, "Ser Jaime, Lord Stafford drew his sword during the coronation of the King of Tyrosh, intending to commit murder. The king executed him on the spot. That is the truth."
"Murder?"
Jaime barked out a harsh laugh, his handsome face twisting with fury.
"He wanted to kill the exiled Targaryen prince and princess, and you call that murder? Have you forgotten how your own father and brother were butchered in King's Landing—by their father?"
Great Lord Eddard's expression hardened. "The sins of Aerys are not theirs to bear. His children are innocent."
"Innocent?" Jaime sneered. "Tell me, Lord Stark, are all Northerners as soft-hearted as you? How long will you go on protecting those two? His Grace's orders were clear—get rid of them, by whatever means necessary."
Eddard's brow furrowed. "All the envoys of the Seven Kingdoms are gathered in Tyrosh. If we make a move here, the King of Tyrosh will not let it go unpunished. Even if he hasn't married the Targaryen girl, he won't allow us to shed blood on his soil."
Jaime stepped forward, eyes blazing, his voice dropping to a low, venomous growl. "Then hire someone to do it. Wait until the delegation sets sail before sending assassins. Or use poison. There are countless ways to deceive this Easterner—but you've done nothing."
Eddard met his glare with cold steel. "When I choose to kill a man, I do it myself. Face to face. I don't stoop to hired knives or poison. Such things have no honor."
Jaime's temper snapped. "Eddard Stark, His Grace made a mistake sending you here. Your damned honor will get us all killed."
Eddard turned his back on him, refusing to respond.
Jaime's anger only burned hotter at the sight. He opened his mouth to lash out again—but the sound of armored boots echoed through the hall.
At that moment, Lo Quen entered the palace, accompanied by Meizo, Roro, and Chai Yiq—disguised as "Jorah Mormont"—followed by a squad of Dragon Soul Guards.
The instant Jaime saw Lo Quen, he knew. This was the Easterner.
He immediately strode forward, intent on confronting him, but the Dragon Soul Guards stepped in at once, blocking his path.
Jaime Lannister ignored them, shouting in furious defiance, "King of Tyrosh! You killed my uncle! If you have any courage, face me one-on-one—I'll show you the strength of House Lannister!"