~Act III: Atonement~

King's Landing, 302 AC

When light returns to the Black Cells, it is accompanied by the clash of steel and a distant roaring, before silence reigns again.

It cannot be a nightmare, Stannis concludes in his half-conscious state. Those demons who haunt his dreams would not wash away the dirt and excrement that cover him, and warp him in warm blankets, and force broth down his throat.

When he wakes, it is not in the Black Cells. He is lying in a bed, covered in clean sheets, and the sun that he has almost forgotten is illuminating Davos Seaworth's honest, joyful face. "How?" he manages to croak. "What is this place?"

"It's not the afterlife, if that's what you're wondering," Davos answers. "You were far too close to that for comfort, but I was just in time to save you. Rest now, my lord."

Stannis forces himself up on an elbow. "Tell me," he orders, wishing he could find some of the old strength in his voice. "Tell me what has happened and where I am."

Davos sighs. "We're in the Red Keep. This room is still a cell of sorts, I suppose. It's Daenerys Targaryen who rules now. She came with dragons, and an army of Unsullied. Stark, Tully, Tyrell, Martell – they've all declared for her. Joffrey and Cersei are dead, and the Lannisters routed. It's dragon banners over us all now."

"And you also joined her?" Stannis asks sharply. "You abandoned your rightful king?"

"I'd join the Stranger himself if I had to," Davos replies without a hint of shame. "I couldn't abandon you to die, my lord."

He does not deserve such loyalty, Stannis thinks; Davos has proven far more dutiful to him than Stannis was to Rolland Storm and all his other men. He sinks back into bed and lets fitful sleep takes him once more.

King's Landing, 302 AC

Daenerys Targaryen thinks to impress him, perhaps, with pageantry and power. Long ranks of Unsullied line the throne room; the dragon skulls have been restored, and tapestries and courtesans clash in a headache-inducing riot of colors. Windows have been opened to display the dragons feeding outside.

Having survived Joffrey, it is all wasted on Stannis.

"You may wonder," Daenerys is saying, "why I have allowed you to live despite you serving the Usurper and the Usurper's spawn for so many years. There are two reasons. First, your Onion Knight pleaded for your life as a condition for helping us into King's Landing. Secondly, Lord Edmure –" Stannis notices his one-time prisoner, now wearing the Hand's badge and looking very uncomfortable at the proceedings – "tells me that there is no more respected battle commander in Westeros than you. I want you to bend the knee, and all your transgressions against House Targaryen will be forgiven."

"No." It is not to you that I owe penitence.

The conqueror looks nonplussed. "Your family has forfeited the kingship," Stannis continues. "You may sit the Iron Throne, but if Joffrey is dead, then my duty is to Tommen."

"I have Tommen as a prisoner. I can have him killed, if you are intransigent. Would you have his death on your hands, Lord Stannis?"

I have far more than that on my hands. "You will not kill Tommen," he says.

Daenerys misunderstands. "You may have been right once, Lord Stannis, but I learned the cost of mercy in Meereen when I refused to kill the masters' children. I will not make that mistake again. If I must feed Tommen to my dragons, I shall."

"You will not kill Tommen because he is your heir. Your great-grandfather Aegon had two children with descendants. One was Jaehaerys, and you are the last of his line. But Jaehaerys had a sister, Rhaelle, who married Ormund Baratheon." Dutiful Rhaelle, who alone of Aegon the Fifth's children proved to be a true grandchild of Maekar Targaryen. And Stannis is Rhaelle's grandson in more than name. "Tommen is Rhaelle's great-grandson and your cousin. If you would claim the Iron Throne as a woman, then you must recognize that Rhaelle's line is entitled to inherit the throne as well, and Tommen is your heir."

Daenerys does not say anything. The guards take him away, and he lives yet another day.

King's Landing, 302 AC

Stannis stands on the docks, waiting for the ship Nurem's Hill that will take him north. He will take the black and not agitate against the new regime, in return for an assurance of the safety of Tommen, Myrcella, Selyse, and Shireen, and for not having to bend the knee.

A gust of wind blows across the quay and he wraps his cloak closer around his gaunt body. The Unsullied guarding him – does Daenerys have so little regard for his honor? – suppress a shiver, and Stannis reflect that in a few decades they, and the Targaryen, will have passed along with the summer. He does not think he will live long enough to see this; nor does he have any reason to. The world seems brighter now that he does not have to serve Joffrey. But duty has hollowed him out till there is little but a shell left.

There is a commotion from the end of the dock and Stannis sees Davos Seaworth trying to force his way past the guards. "Let him pass," he calls instinctively; the Unsullied, after a moment, step aside. "Ser Davos," Stannis says, "I did not send for you."

Davos, more salt than pepper on his beard now, falls on his knees. "Let me go with you, Lord Stannis."

"You have a wife and children."

"Dale can care for them now, my lord. When you took my fingers and knighted me, I swore that I'd serve you, always. I mean to keep that oath."

Stannis raises the old smuggler up. "And you can serve me yet. I want you to take Shireen back to Cape Wrath, and Selyse if she will go. Be the father to her that I never was. Teach her duty and guide her; she has a gentle heart, and King's Landing could consume her. But do not forget there is strength in her too, however much fools might mock her. And Tommen…" Stannis thinks of seeing Tommen tilting at a quintain, and Joffrey's mocking laughter. You'll never do it…Weakwing will never catch anything. Look at my bright sword…look at my gyrfalcon.

Robert and Joffrey blend together, and Stannis sees another little boy forever trying to escape from his elder brother's shadow. There is little of Robert or Stannis in Tommen, and for this Stannis is thankful. "My nephew has seen many horrors; make sure he does not grow into a bitter, angry man." The sins of my generation should not be visited on the next, Stannis thinks; let them grow up in a better, cleaner world. "And they may hear a great many things about me. Some might even be true. But whatever else, tell them I did my duty."

Tears are streaming down faithful Davos' face. "I will do that, my lord," he says. "I swear it."

There is nothing more to be said. Stannis boards the Nurem's Hill and turns his back on King's Landing.

Castle Black, 302 AC

Lord Commander Cotter Pyke receives him kindly enough; the Night's Watch remembers with gratitude how Stannis sent them aid when nobody else would, the grizzled veteran assures him. A man of his experience will be of great service to the Watch.

The young man with dark hair and grey eyes, who Stannis soon finds out is Ned Stark's bastard, is far less welcoming. The bastard stares at him, eyes full of baleful hate. Seeing a man associated with the enemies who killed one's father and three brothers could make a person less rational, Stannis supposes.

The first time they are alone, Jon Snow grabs Stannis and pins him against a wall, a dagger against his throat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you here and now," the bastard growls.

There is one occasion, in looking back at the past few years, where Stannis thinks he may have failed his duty. It has given him restless nights, spent wondering if that moment of mercy was ill done. And yet it may now save his life.

"Arya Stark," Stannis says.

Castle Black, 304 AC

Jon Snow and Stannis settle into a cold but respectful distance.

It is a cold and lonely life, with constant dangers on both sides of the wall now. But Stannis begins to find a purpose in the service. His fellow Watchmen are mostly rough men, but far more honest than the snakes in King's Landing. Between his discipline and Tyrion Lannister's acerbic humor, they can be shaped into a better fighting force. And he can mold them, make them dutiful, make them truly the shield that guards the realms of men.

He also learns to find little bits of joy in life – the warmth of a fire after a long ranging, or a particularly invigorating conversation with Dolorous Edd, or finding that Three-Finger Hobb has prepared something different from their usual fare. The cook should be Lord Commander, Stannis sometimes thinks; there is no more essential man in the Night's Watch.

The brightest moments are the little tidbits of news filter up from the South, along with an occasional letter from Shireen, and later from Davos as well. They tell of a realm rebuilding beneath the gathering snows; of the wounds that tear apart the Seven Kingdoms being bound together. They tell of how the Dragon Queen remains childless, and how the maesters believe she never will have a child. They tell of Tommen growing into a fine young knight, who stubbornly spurns the attempts of Targaryen loyalists to have him marry one of their daughters. Tommen has fallen for Shireen instead (no, Davos is not entirely responsible for that, the old rogue assures him with far too much cheerfulness) and insists that they will be wed.

Cotter Pyke dies in one of the increasingly frequent encounters with demons of ages past, and there must be a new election. Stannis is First Ranger now, and he knows that many already consider him the next Lord Commander. It is no surprise to him, either, when Justin Massey is the first to stand for him. The Smiler has a castle at last – lonely Icemark – but doubtless wants to be rewarded with a larger pile of rock and ice. "There is only one leader among us with the experience, and the blood, and the courage for this position," Justin Massey declares to a great deal of cheering. "I nominate our next Lord Commander, Stannis Baratheon!"

Stannis slowly gets to his feet. "A leader must be a servant first," he says. "His duty is to his men, and the realm. Whenever I spoke of duty, I thought only of myself, and better men than me died as a result. Any of you would be more suited for Lord Commander, even the cook." Stannis pauses to take in the downcast look on Justin Massey's face, and Tyrion Lannister's surprised, respectful gaze, and Jon Snow's inscrutable expression. "If you insist on electing me, I will obey your demand. But I…ask…that you do not, and that you instead vote for the First Steward."

There is a stunned silence; Stannis casts his token and then leaves.

Some time later, the new Lord Commander finds him atop the Wall. "Why?" Jon Snow want to know.

How does he tell Jon Snow that it was really for himself? That perhaps he can find some absolution in this? That it was because Jon Snow is the image of Ned Stark, the man Stannis always resented for coming first?

Perhaps Renly was right, and Ned had the courage to do what had to be done – to do what Stannis never could. "Your father…Ned Stark…was a brave man," Stannis says at last.

They stand in silence atop the wall, the cold winds from the North sweeping down over them and rangers' horns blowing in the distance. Perhaps here at the end of the world, Stannis thinks, he can find illumination, a catharsis, an absolution.