AN: This is the final chapter of this story. I have come to love this story. So, I won't say that it is totally abandoned. I may come back to it at a later date. I will remove the tag that says it is and instead let everyone it on a long hiatus. Along with this story, I'm posting the 1st chapter/prologue of my new story. I hope you all like that one as well.

Cheers!

~Jinc

298 AC –Dragonstone

~Stannis~

Life had been good to Stannis. For once in his life, he had nothing to complain about. There was no slight to him that caused his teeth to grind. Shireen was growing into a good woman, who took well to her lessons with the septa. His son and good-daughter had made a success of their marriage, and formed a successful trading fleet.

Perhaps, they were far too open with the affection they showed each other, but he considered them newly wed still. They would calm their amorous activities when they grew older.

At least, he hoped they would. There was only so many times he would go to knock on his son's bedchambers only for the Dame Muirgen to send him away because…his son and good-daughter were 'discussing matters important to their business'. Even if he had not heard the passionate groans and moans that managed to get through the cracks, Stannis would not have bought the excuse. He could not even complain that he had no grandchildren yet, because Harry had already explained that they were waiting until their business was self-sustaining before bringing in another life into the world. It had not pleased Stannis as the time, but as events unfolded, he found himself thinking his son wise.

Harry had planned to visit Winterfell with his wife to visit her brother. The ships had been readied with provisions, gifts for the Stark family, and horses to take them from White Harbor to the Stark's ancestral home. Yara had been looking forward to seeing her brother again, even if she had just seen him the year previous, and had not been too happy when Stannis had denied them leave. Seeing his wife about to give into her rage, Harry had been quick to respectfully confront him.

He ordered several of them into the Painted Table, a room with an accurately painted map of Westeros, and explained his reasoning.

As Harry, Yara, the Dames of House Beartsone, his wife, Ser Davos, and Melisandre, who had been 'invited' at Selyse's insistence, sat Stannis informed them that his brother, the King, had no legitimate heirs. The sons and daughters masquerading as his children were bastards born of incest to Ser Jaime Lannister and his sister, Cersei Lannister.

Stannis had been trying to think of a way to speak the secret to his brother, tried to find solid proof that the Crowned prince and his siblings were not of their blood, but had failed to think of something concrete. A small part of it took some semblance of joy that his brother, who was so infamously known as 'The Whoremonger King' was actually a cuckold. For years Stannis had tried to tell his brother to quit his life style, to make better decisions, and in the end it was he that was actually be shamed. For all the bastards Robert had sired, he had never attempted to put one in the line of succession. No, that prize had gone to the queen, who had put a crown on her golden haired bastard's head.

Recent events had helped Stannis make his decision. Or rather, had made it for him.

His brother had died, hunting of all things. The one past time his brother loved had ended up killing him. The irony would only have been thicker if Robert had died in a whorehouse.

To make matters even worse Ned Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of House Stark, had been arrested for treason and his two daughters held captive.

It did not take a skilled commander to know the world was going to devolve into war. Stannis had been too slow to act, too slow to prevent it, and if he were to be honest, a little afraid. To cross Cersei Lannister meant crossing Tywin Lannister. And no one crossed the Old Lion lightly. There were songs about how Tywin Lannister dealt with his enemies and two Houses wiped from the annals of history because of it.

Whatever plans Stannis had made were null and void. New plans had to be drawn up. They couldn't very well let a Lannister bastard sit on the throne. The boy had only been sitting on it for a few days and already the balance had been destroyed. Ned Stark imprisoned, Ser Barristan Selmy released from his lifetime oath as a Kingsguard, and other general disarray.

"What do you want us to do, father?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

What did Stannis want to do?

The throne was his by right and law. His brother had no heirs, none with the skills necessary to rule anyway. The children to be from his loins were bastards. While it was not unheard of for a bastard to become a lord, allowing one to be king was a very different matter. Blood mattered to the Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. Legitimacy mattered.

But, to allow the Lannisters to keep it would be an even bigger insult to his House and to the Houses of the other kingdoms. Either option would also start a war with no clear-cut sides.

The North would side with them, to free Ned Stark and the Riverlands too for what Tywin ordered his men to do. But, that still left the Reach, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and the Vale. All were strong in their own right, all possible game changers if they were to ally with either side.

"We do justice." Stannis replied, matching his son's stare. All were silent, even his normally brash good-daughter, knowing that the decision would be argued between the Lord of Dragonstone and the Heir of Dragonstone. It was the future of their family, and they were the leaders of it.

"You are sure of what you know?" Harry asked.

"I would not have said anything if I wasn't sure." Stannis bristled at the questions. His son had known him all his life. When was he ever prone to exaggeration?

"We are about to declare war and commit treason. I want to know if you are completely sure. This will not be like the Greyjoy Rebellion. It won't end in a year. The entire kingdom will have to choose sides. Men, women, and children will die by the hundreds. So, again father, are you absolutely sure?" Harry replied, his eyes staring into Stannis's own. He did not take to kindly to having his integrity questioned. But, the older man understood. Harry was right. This would be a war on the scale of his brother's rebellion. Many men would die before it was through and countless innocent lives would be lost from it. Entire families were lost to such a war.

"I am sure." He grit out through his teeth.

A silence descended upon them, the other members of the group swiveling their heads to look between father and son. They were challenging each other, seeing which would be the first to back down. But, Harry understood that justice must be done.

"What are our numbers?" His son finally asked. Stannis looked to Ser Davos with a nod.

"One hundred and sixty ships, eighty galleys, four hundred knights, and a little more than four-thousand men-at-arms." The seasoned sailor announced. "We could have another hundred and fifty ships if we use the galleys you own for trading."

"No, those ships will need to sail to Essos. We will need supplies if we are to fight the war." Harry said with a shake of his head.

His son was right. They would not be able to go inland for supplies unless they allied with the Reach. Even then, they would have to sail around Dorne to Oldtown or Sun House to pick it up. It was far quicker to sail to Essos and grab supplies. So long as they fought on the east end, they could supply the troops faster.

"The Crownlands can raise twelve-thousand men in two moons time and have fifty ships. We won't be able to siege King's Landing with so little men." Harry sighed.

"We can invade through the Mud Gate, infiltrate by sea." Davos said, moving model ship into Blackwater Bay. "We will outnumber them on the sea."

"But, not on land. They could just rain down arrows at us from their walls. Our casualties will be too great. We will be forced to retreat before we even touch the wall, let alone breach it." Harry shook his head, respectfully rejecting Ser Davos's plan.

Stannis felt a measure of pride. While Ser Davos's plan could work, Harry was also correct. The margin of error for such an attack was high and better left as a last resort. He could see Harry's eyes dance across the map, stop and carry on again. Stannis knew what his son was thinking. He had the thought himself.

"We will need allies." He voiced his thoughts.

"The Ironborn will side with you." Yara, his good-daughter, exclaimed while grabbing four wooden ships. "At least four Houses will side with you, maybe more. They can field at least fifty ships each, with men to crew them. That's twelve thousand reavers that can take on any coastal towns. If Tywin Lannister means to go to war over this, then he will have to split is attention between Ironborn reavers and the men of the North."

The board had started to come together. Four ships to represent the four Houses of the Iron Islands, two soldiers to represent the twenty-thousand men the North would be able to put together on short notice, and while the Riverlands could normally sport forty-five thousand men, their losses to Ser Gregor Clegane would not doubt put there numbers lower, Stannis put two soldiers. It was better to underestimate their strength than overestimate it. The Crowlands had one soldier placed on top of King's Landing, five for the Vale, the Reach had nine soldiers, and the Stormlands had three, with Dorne to have four. As they finished setting up the Painted Table, everyone started to understand that they if went at it alone, regardless of their sea superiority the battle would be lost unless they gathered allies.

"The Grey Knights and the men of the Prayer will sail north. We will go and treat with Robb Stark." Harry intoned. His face was focused on the board, the determined line of his lips hidden behind his hands.

"They will have the least amount of men. It would be more beneficial to treat with the Reach first, even the Stormlands. It was our home once. The men there know that it was our family that held Storm's End during the siege. Some may kneel to me as the rightful king." Stannis stated.

He had planned to send Harry to Highgarden. His son was a charismatic figure. No one may have cared for Stannis, but Harry was a successful businessman that brought the luxuries of Essos to the West. If the Reach sided against them, they would have to know that all trade to them would stop, ceasing certain items they had grown accustomed to. It was a small price for them to pay, but it was a price nonetheless.

"I agree," Harry nodded his head, "that is why you, father, will ride to the Stormlands."

Stannis leaned unto the table, cupping his hands to mirror his son. He grit his teeth at being told what to do, but was interested enough to hold his temper back; but, only barely.

"And why would I do that?" He growled out with a glare.

"As you said, it was you that held Storm's End during the siege. They will respect you for that. If anyone has a chance of turning the Storm Lords from Uncle Renly it would be you. It is a well-known fact that Uncle Renly spends most of his time in Highgarden. He barely does his duties as Master-of-Law, let alone Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Not all will bend the knee to you, but even one or two houses would be thousands of men." Harry explained calmly, matching his father's gaze. It was Stannis's turn to back down. He had a point.

"And what will you being doing in the North?" Stannis questioned.

"Robb Stark will want vengeance for the wrongful imprisonment of his father. His Northern sense of honor will allow nothing less. I will tell him of Cersei's treachery and he will believe it, if only to help himself better explain why his father was imprisoned for treason. He will bend the knee when I tell him that it will guarantee the support of my trading ships and the support of the Ironborn. The number of men Tywin Lannister commands alone will outnumber him, never mind if in combination with the Crownlands. Robb will know he will need all the help he can get."

Stannis could only nod. It was a good plan. Yara and Harry had more contact with the Ironbon than the ward of Ned Stark, Theon. The Ironborn did not know Theon, did not know what the boy was capable of. But, they knew Yara and Harry. They had raided the Stepstones with the Ironborn and made many of the lords rich. If Harry allowed them to raid Lannister lands, many would join for that alone. Some of the Ironborn had long ago stopped caring about the Iron Price. All they wanted was easy gold.

Stannis motioned for his son to continue. He was on a roll so far; it was better to let the young man speak. He had learned everything he knew from Stannis. Harry was not a warmonger, but he was very intimate with it. If he were alone, Stannis would have patted himself on the back for how well his son had turned out.

The plan Harry had laid out was well thought out, with Stannis only having to correct him on some of the smaller aspects and with very few questions as to what they would do.

Harry would take his Grey Knights, the one hundred men of the Prayer, and another hundred knights North. They would treat with Robb Stark, promise the boy justice and when they won, Ned Stark would be cleared of all charges of treason and his sisters returned to him. Harry would also provide materials to rebuild what the Lannisters did to the Riverlands at a heavily discounted price. Where the North went, the Riverlands would follow, but it was still a good gesture to offer them something.

While North they would send to meet with the Ironborn. They may have commanded the loyalty of four Houses, but his son did not trust Balon Greyjoy. The man had rebelled before. It was not too far a stretch of the imagination to think he would do so again when the realm was thrown into chaos. It was a small surprise to see Yara agree. Stannis knew the young woman had grown fond of his son, but to see her so ready to bring her own father to heel, let him know how much.

The Ironborn would bend the knee. Stannis was sure of that. If they didn't they would have to contend with the entire realm when the war was over. But, if they sided with him then one of their own would be queen and they would prosper more than they had in the past.

Stannis would venture to Dorne. There was no love between House Martell and House Baratheon. But, for all their misgivings with each other, they both hated the Lannister's even more. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The number of men the Dornish could raise was in question, but it was a safe assumption it was somewhere between thirty and forty thousand. Harry had brought Sunspear a lot of trading business in the past. They would not part so easily with that amount of coin. It was all a matter if Stannis could make Prince Doran see that. His son had suggested offering Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to Dorne as a symbol of good faith. When they won the war, whether Dorne participated or not, they would be given the killers of their princess and her children.

It was a sentiment Stannis could stand behind. He had argued with his brother over the fact of letting those two men live. War was brutal and bloody, but Ellia Martel and her children were not common folk caught up in the middle of the battle. They were royalty of Dorne: they deserved a better fate than what was given to them, especially the children. Any number of things could have been done with them. They needed not die.

After Dorne, Stannis would see how many of the Storm Lords would swear to him. He had some respect in that part of the kingdoms. It was not Renly to defend Storm's End when the Tyrells brought siege for an entire year. It was not Renly who flew Baratheon colors during the Greyjoy Rebellion. His younger brother, who was well loved, had no battle experience, no experience as a commander. For all his brother was, Stannis knew that Renly was little more than a pretty face. The same could be said for Ser Loras. The man was a summer knight. Good for tourneys, wooing maids at ceremonies, but not a man who would excel in the hell that was war.

To end it all, to unite the realm, Harry would venture back south and meet with Stannis. They would both treat with Renly to hopefully use him to garner support with the Reach. If Renly sided with them, in combination of what Harry had done for them, the Reach would bend the knee. There would have been a steep penalty, something the Tyrells would no doubt want. But, there would be little cards they would have to play. They could side with the Lannisters, but Yara and Harry could just add the coastal towns of the Reach as targets for the Ironborn to raid. They would have to leave a sizeable amount of their soldiers just to ensure none of the keeps were taken.

The Tyrells could opt to remain neutral in the matter or wait until the less moment to join. But, Stannis was not his brother. He would remember they turned him away in his time of need, as minor as it was. They would expect much, but would get nothing from him. There would be no positions for them in his court; there would be no respect and certainly no new lands.

With the battle plans set everyone went to prepare. They were going to war.

"Harry, Ser Davos, a moment." Stannis said, stopping the two most important people in the battles to come.

His son exchanged looks with his wife and the Dames of Bearstone. Stannis had headaches with just one woman who would barely listen to him and she was at least his wife. The years of having to deal with Muirgen and Yara constantly undermining his commands in favor of his son's was starting to grate on his nerves. While it was good to see his son inspire such loyalty, especially from a woman whose brother he had killed, made him proud. But, it also made him want to scream and rage to the heavens about what he had ever done to deserve such disobedient people in his House.

"How long until you sail?" He asked, breathing deeply to stow his anger away. It was his son's fault they were so openly defiant to him, but he could hardly reprimand his son for their fidelity.

"Well, I still have to armor my squire. Originally, I was going to have his armor made from the North as he holds great love for his home. But, as we are going to war soon, I will have to have it made here. Such a thing will take a few days and him getting used to it another few days. So, half a weeks time…a week at most." Harry replied.

Ah, yes, the new squire. Out of all the young men in the land, of all the influential families Harry could have pulled favor from, his son had yet pulled another bastard into his service.

The thought made Stannis want to pull out his hair in frustration.

Squires were meant to affect a knight's influence, garner favor from a family. Harry was one of twenty knights who lords would have tripped over themselves to give a son as a squire. He was Harry 'Ironside' Baratheon, leader of the vanguard at Pyke, scourge of pirates on the Narrow Sea, and bane of smugglers of Stepstones. A squire made a knight by him would automatically command respect. Dame Muirgen was a fine example of what people thought of knights made by Harry.

Yet, he chose another bastard boy.

His son's un-conventionalism was going to drive him mad one day or into an early grave.

"I still say you could have done with a better squire. The Vale has many sons that would make better squires, the Reach is known for its chivalry. You could've taken one of your mother's nephews. But, you take on another bastard." Stannis growled, allowing his displeasure at his son's choice known.

"All high-born families. Many who come from such a lot do not measure up to what I believe knights to be." Harry said with a shrug.

Seeing his son was not about to explain further, Stannis waved him on. What in the seven hells did bastards possess that high-borns, who had been raised their entire lives for such an honor, did not.

"All of them fight for glory of their Houses. Squires from those lands don't serve a knight out of gratefulness or honors of their oaths. They do it to make their Houses greater, to make themselves greater. Muirgen wanted to rise above her station, but even when I gave her, her own name and made her a Dame, she swore to me out of gratitude. Out of loyalty and honor. How many high-borns do you know would have done the same when they got what they wanted?" Harry asked with a brow raised. It was a rhetorical question because the answer was simple.

Not many. There would always be a few that held great respect for those who trained them for years, but not many would forsake the loyalty to their own Houses.

"And you believe this bastard to be of the same capacity?" Stannis asked. It was impossible to know the metal of a man until he was put into the fire. In the fire, his true colors would show.

"How can you be so sure?

But, Harry just smiled and replied surely. As surely as there was air, water, fire, and earth. No hesitation. No guessing. Just fact.

"Yes."

~Harry~

"You will need me in the times to come my lord."

Harry looked to the red witch and could not help but sigh. The woman had been respectful the last few years, keeping their 'conversations' to politeness with the occasional mentioning of prayer to R'hllor. Harry was glad she had received the message by his avoidance of her.

However, that all seemed to end once the battle plans had been made. Never before had she been so brazen in her attempts for his attention.

"For what? How many soldiers have you commanded? How many battles have you fought?" He asked drily.

She was a priestess. One with great magic he knew. Harry could feel it whenever she was near him. That could also have been another reason why he avoided her. The singing of her magic to his was tempting. Too tempting for him to resist for long. He could feel her power and his magic wanted to be near it in a way that could only be described as carnal.

"None my lord," Melisandre admitted. "However, even you cannot deny that I am powerful in my own right. A great terror comes, a terror that I have tried to prepare you for. If you would not be so distant, I can aid you with the fire the Lord of Light has given you. It is a strong fire within you, but like all fires it must be properly tended to."

He groaned at the mention of her god. The woman always went on and on about the Lord of Light. For once, he just wanted her to refer to it as it was.

Magic.

She claimed magic came from the Lord of Light, but the Targaryens had magic and they prayed to the Seven. The First Men probably had magic and they prayed to the Old gods. What set her Red god apart from the rest?

No, he did not believe in gods. Spirits, ghosts, and the like were not out of the realm of possibility, but beings of great immense power who did nothing as the world burned…even if they did exist, why would he worship them?

There was only one god Harry respected.

Death.

Death came equally to all. King or pauper, noble or small folk, man or woman, crone or child, Death came for all when it was time. Death did not expect worship; it took worshipers and heathens alike. It did not separate, did not differentiate, they were all equal in the eyes of Death.

If there was ever a god, then Death was it.

"I do not pray to your god, Melisandre," Harry said. He did not add the title of Lady because she was no lady, a woman true, but no lady. There was no reverence in his voice as he addressed her, unlike his mother. And no courtesy that she did not deserve that her father afforded her.

"You have seen his powers at work through me. I had hoped you would come to the Lord in your own time, but you have proven beyond stubborn regarding the matter. I have seen you in my flames. You are Azor Ahai, the one to defeat the Great Other when the time comes."

Her condescension was ire inspiring. She spoke as if he was a child, but he thought her the one being childish. So blinded by her fanatic faith that no amount of discussion could curb her thoughts.

To make matters worse Melisandre spoke of him in prophecy. He loathed prophecies. They were symbols of how fate like messing with mortals. His old life had been dictated by prophecy, one that was used to bend him one way or another. Harry would not allow this life to be the safe. He had done many things to ensure that he would not fail into the same traps of his old life.

"And how would praying to your god help me defeat this Great Other?" It was sarcasm. Harry did not expect her to have a true answer.

"You must accept your destiny. While prayer will help, it does not mean that you cannot hone the skills the Red god has given you. As I said, you are filled with his power. That is what he has given you to defeat the Great Other. In you is his fire that will burn away the coming cold and the light that will bend shadows to your whim." Melisandre said coming to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry could feel her magic touching him, soothing his own magic with its presence.

"You will teach me magic?" He asked, skeptical. There was no way he would bend the knee to her faith, yet she offered to teach him magic.

Melisandre's sonorous, tinkling laughter filled the room.

"No, the Lord of Light already has given you everything you need. I will merely show you the way." Her words were like oil. They slithered over his person in a way that he could not describe. He had always wanted to use magic again. Not the simple tricks he was able to do, but what he could see in his dreams. Harry had no way of knowing if such feats were capable in his world, but what else could he do?

Melisandre was the only person he had run across that had magic. At least, magic he could notice. He would learn everything of magic he could learn. She had not said he would have to pray to the Red god, which was to her credit.

Let her believe his magic from the Red god. What did he care?

So long as he could learn, could use it again, then what did it matter what she believed?

Harry almost groaned in longing when she pulled her hand away from his shoulder. He could still feel her magic, but it was more muted. His jaw clenched and eyes fluttered as he tried to gather himself. It appeared as if he would have to trail carefully, lest he become addicted to the feeling.

When my magic comes back…I won't need it anymore, he told himself.

"Fine. You may accompany us North," Melisandre bowed and made to leave before Harry called out to her.

"But, you will not do anything to jeopardize out treating with the Starks. Any mention of them being heathens, of them worshipping false gods, anything to even hint at conversion and I will put you in chains and have you drug back to Dragonstone. Do we understand each other?" He asked. There was no room for question at the tone of his voice. Harry did not want to woman putting them in jeopardy because of her…beliefs. A word to he used loosely to describe her fanatical behavior.

"I cannot preach to those unwilling to bend their ear." She replied, her tone respectful. But, Harry wasn't buying it. Her words were far too ambiguous. There were too many loopholes for her to wiggle her way through. With the vagueness of her statement, she didn't even need to wiggle. Melisandre could waltz through the damned thing. It was something Harry could not have.

"No. You are accompanying me to teach me magic, in private, and in confidence. Any word of this to anyone, even a small slip, I will have you put into chains and brought back to Dragonstone. Do not test me on this. I am willing to learn, willing to listen, but betray me and…" He let the sentence hang. Partially because he wanted her imagination to run wild at his warning and partially because he didn't know what he would do.

"As you wish. I will not speak to anyone of what we do," the way she said it made it sound more sexual than Harry was hoping she intended. "However, I cannot say that if people come to me wanting to hear the Lord's words, I will turn them away. But, I will refrain from informing the heathens of their false gods."

Harry supposed it was the best he was going to get. He could have done without the condescending tone.

"These are the terms then. Pack what you need. We sail for White Harbor in a weeks time." Harry commanded. Melisandre curtseyed and spun, her gown fluttering behind her.

Now where have I seen that before, he thought sarcastically. He wondered if their relationship would be similar to the person she had just reminded him of. It had sort of ended well…but the road in between the beginning and end left much to be desired.