"My lord, Lord Stannis requests an audience."
The muffled voice of the guardsman, Jory, came from outside the door.
Eddard paused, surprise flickering in his eyes.
Stannis seeking him out—at this hour?
After a moment's thought, he said quietly, "Show him in."
The door opened, and "Stannis Baratheon" stepped inside. His expression was grim, his brow furrowed deep, his footsteps deliberate and heavy.
Before Eddard could greet him, Stannis spoke first, his low voice carrying the weight of a coming storm. "Lord Eddard, forgive the late intrusion. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you—privately."
Eddard inclined his head. "Speak freely, my lord."
"It concerns my brother, Renly," Stannis said, his tone grave.
Eddard frowned slightly. "What about Lord Renly?"
"Stannis" met his gaze squarely. "Lord Eddard, I have received word that Renly is scheming—plotting something that threatens the stability of the realm. He plans to persuade Robert to cast aside the Lannister queen and replace her with a woman from House Tyrell."
Eddard drew in a sharp breath, rising abruptly to his feet. "This... this is serious. How certain are you of this information?"
"Stannis" answered with absolute conviction. "Beyond doubt. They're preparing to act soon. When I return, I will inform the Hand of the King and see how he chooses to proceed."
Lord Eddard's expression hardened. "Should we tell His Grace?"
"Stannis" immediately shook his head. "No. His Grace is impulsive. If he learns of this, he'll lash out at Renly. Worse, it would ignite conflict between the Lannisters, Renly, and the Tyrells. You wouldn't wish to see the realm thrown into chaos, would you, Lord Eddard? Not now, of all times."
Eddard fell silent, the heavy burden of duty pressing upon him.
He slowly sank back into his chair, his face etched with thought, then finally nodded. "I understand."
Stannis's reasoning was sound—the realm needed stability above all.
"Stannis" exhaled faintly, as if relieved, then went on, "I came to you at this hour to avoid notice. There are many of Renly's men hidden within this delegation. We must keep our distance. After tonight, you must act as though you know nothing of this conversation, and I was never here. Should anyone ask, I'll deny it entirely. Until the Hand acts, we bury this between us."
Eddard regarded "Stannis" in silence, a tangle of emotions churning in his chest.
He had thought the man's coldness toward him stemmed from Robert's choices, never realizing it was in service of guarding such a secret.
He nodded solemnly. "I swear it—on the honor of House Stark."
...
Meanwhile, in Stannis's own chambers.
The real Stannis sat back in his chair, eyes closed, fingers tapping lightly against the table.
He could already picture the storm awaiting him upon his return to King's Landing—the whispers, the jeers, the venom of rumor.
The people of the Seven Kingdoms would curse him for signing what they'd call a "humiliating" treaty, and Robert would surely dismiss him as Master of Ships to calm the outrage.
So, he had already decided: the moment he returned, he would resign the post himself and retreat to Dragonstone.
"My lord, Lord Eddard Stark requests an audience."
The guardsman's voice broke his thoughts.
Stannis's eyes snapped open, his brow tightening into a hard knot.
Eddard Stark?
What could he possibly want—so late at night?
After a brief hesitation, he said quietly but firmly, "Let him in."
"Eddard Stark" entered, his expression unusually grave.
Without waiting for Stannis to speak, he strode forward and lowered his voice until only the two of them could hear. "My lord, there is something of great importance you must know—something concerning His Grace, the King."
Stannis froze, his tone turning cold. "What about His Grace?"
"Lord Eddard" looked deeply troubled. Leaning closer, he whispered, "My lord, I have reason to believe none of the King's three children are truly his."
For a rare moment, shock cracked the icy mask on Stannis's face. "What did you say?!"
Eddard's tone was solemn. "It was a chance discovery. But think about it—aren't you curious? All of His Grace's children have golden hair... After the Battle of Bloodstone, I returned to King's Landing and saw the Queen with her children. To be frank, Robert and I grew up together in the Eyrie. Those children look nothing like him—it defies all reason. I intended to speak to the Hand of the King then, but feared the wrong ears might hear..."
Stannis interrupted, "But the Queen's hair is..."
Then he stopped.
Realization dawned—three children, each with golden hair. Not one bore a trace of the Baratheons' black.
"Lord Eddard" wore a heavy expression. "It's only suspicion for now. I know if I speak of it, they'll call it slander without proof. But if it's true... then, my lord, you are the only rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."
Stannis's voice was hard as iron. "What evidence do you have?"
Eddard shook his head. "None. Only the Queen herself could know the truth. But we can look at it another way—His Grace has many bastards. What color is their hair? Or we might search the marriage records, study the children born of past Baratheon-Lannister unions. The answer could lie there."
Stannis fell into deep thought. It was a long while before he finally spoke. "I'll bring this before the Hand when I return to King's Landing. But—"
Eddard nodded. "I understand, Lord Stannis. I'll keep this secret until the truth is known. And after tonight, I'll deny we ever spoke."
As "Eddard" left, Stannis watched him go, his thoughts in turmoil.
Eddard Stark—this northern lord famed for his rigid honor—was far more shrewd than he'd ever imagined.
It changed something in Stannis's view of him, though not as much as the burning urgency now filling him—the need to return to King's Landing and uncover the truth of this claim that could shake the Seven Kingdoms to their core.
...
By dawn the next morning, the port of Tyrosh was alive with noise once more.
The delegation of the Seven Kingdoms boarded their ships homeward, carrying the signed treaty and the ransomed nobles.
Questions about the three who had "died of illness" were soon lost amid the rush to depart.
As for the captured soldiers, the envoys had already come to a silent understanding among themselves—each house would send its own representatives later to settle matters with Tyrosh. None of them wished to linger here a moment longer.
Massive sails unfurled in the morning breeze.
Jaime Lannister, still recovering from his wounds, remained confined to his cabin below deck.
Stannis Baratheon and Eddard Stark met by chance at the ship's rail.
Their eyes met briefly—each man reading something in the other—then just as quickly, they looked away.
Eddard's gaze was troubled, his mind still heavy with the supposed "Stannis's" revelation of a plot to replace the Queen.
But in Stannis's eyes, a fierce light burned.
The seed of doubt planted by the "Eddard" who had visited him the night before now blazed into certainty. He longed to return to King's Landing without delay—to uncover the truth of a secret that could upend the realm itself.
The fleet drifted from the harbor, sails catching the wind, bearing them westward toward Westeros.
...
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