The day after Robert Baratheon's death :

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Stannis Baratheon paced restlessly in his dimly lit chambers, his mind consumed by the memories of Robert's Rebellion. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls, matching the darkness that had always seemed to surround him.

He couldn't help but dwell on his role in the war, the war that had torn the Seven Kingdoms asunder and led to the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty. Stannis had been a loyal and dutiful brother, a man of unwavering determination and resolve. Yet, despite his sacrifices and victories, he remained in the shadow of his elder brother, Robert.

'The Siege of Storm's End', he thought bitterly. For months, he had held the castle against the relentless siege by the forces of the Mad King. Every day was a test of his resolve, but the world had sung songs of Robert's victories, not Stannis's endurance.

The Battle of Ashford had been a test of his tactical brilliance. Facing Randyll Tarly, a seasoned commander, Stannis had emerged victorious. He couldn't help but feel a hint of sarcasm in his thoughts as he remembered that while Robert had defeated Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident, it was Stannis who had bested Tarly.

The Stormlands Campaign had seen Stannis leading the forces into their homeland. He had faced the usurper's loyalists with determination, but it had been Robert who had been hailed as the hero.

The Defense of Dragonstone had been his duty. The island fortress had become the Targaryens' final refuge, and Stannis had laid siege to it, preventing their escape. Yet, Robert basked in the glory of victory while Stannis was once again overlooked.

The Battle of the Bells, a lesser-known battle, had seen Stannis defeat Jon Connington in a decisive victory. It had foiled the Targaryen loyalists' plans to rally and crushed their hopes. But history cared not for Stannis the Strategist; it remembered Robert and his hammer.

As he continued to pace, Stannis felt bitterness welling up within him. The victories, the sacrifices, the unwavering loyalty—all had been overshadowed by his elder brother's presence and charisma. The Stormlands should have been his, a rightful reward for his dedication, yet he had been cast aside.

In the end, history favored the victors, and Robert's name would be sung in songs for generations to come. Stannis, however, would remain the forgotten hero of Robert's Rebellion. He couldn't escape the bitter taste in his mouth, a taste as dark as the shadows that seemed to engulf him.

As the night wore on, Stannis's steps became slower, and his thoughts grew heavier. He knew that despite his accomplishments, he would forever remain in the shadow of Robert Baratheon, the King.

Or so it would have been...if his dear brother didn't unexpectedly die while visiting the Vale, leaving the realm without a ruler.

Stannis came to an abrupt halt in his pacing, his mind mulling once again on the sudden shift in circumstances.

Robert, the mighty King, had met his end because of his unhealthy life most likely, leaving the Iron Throne vacant.

The opportunity was there, and Stannis knew he had to seize it. The legacy of House Baratheon depended on it, and the realm needed a ruler who would dispense justice without fear or favor. As he contemplated his next move, Stannis felt the weight of history and duty pressing down on him, knowing that the path he wanted to tread was fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

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One week later:

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Stannis clenched his fists, his knuckles white with rage, as he faced Melisandre in the dimly lit chamber. His voice trembled with fury as he shouted, "Damn the gods, Melisandre! Damn them to the fiery pits! How could they allow such a sacrilege?"

Melisandre, cloaked in her crimson robes, remained composed, her red eyes fixed on Stannis. "My lord, it was the will of the Lord of Light. He has chosen Joffrey as the rightful king, and this transformation of the throne is a testament to his power."

Stannis paced the room, his anger boiling over. "A testament? A blasphemy, you mean! That boy, that abomination, has desecrated the throne that should have been mine. He had no right to wield such power, even if it came from the gods themselves."

Melisandre's voice was soothing, yet unwavering. "The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways, my lord. Perhaps there is a greater purpose to this transformation, one that will serve our cause."

Stannis halted and glared at the crimson priestess. "Our cause? Our cause is to claim what is rightfully mine, the Iron Throne! Not to bow to the whims of gods who favor false kings."

Melisandre approached him, her hand touching his arm gently. "Have faith, Stannis. The Lord of Light has chosen you as his champion, and his will shall be done. We must be patient and trust in his guidance."

Stannis shook off her hand and turned away. "Trust? I trusted my brother, and he betrayed me by not granting me the Stormlands. I trusted in the law, and it failed me. Now, I'm expected to trust in a god I barely understand? No, Melisandre, my trust has limits."

Melisandre lowered her head, her red tresses cascading over her shoulders. "I understand your anger,Lord Stannis. But remember, it was your brother Robert who rejected you, not the gods. The Lord of Light has shown you his favor, and together, we can achieve greatness."

Stannis's jaw clenched, and he stared out of a window at the moonlit night. His voice was colder now, filled with determination. "Very well, Melisandre. We will use whatever means necessary to claim the throne, even if it means aligning ourselves with gods whose motives remain a mystery to me. But know this, once the throne is mine, I will not be beholden to any deity or false king."

Melisandre bowed her head, her red eyes unwavering. "As you wish, my lord. The night is dark and full of terrors, but with the Lord of Light as our guide, we shall prevail."

Stannis remained silent, his mind filled with thoughts of vengeance and power, as the shadows of the night closed in around them.

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Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Stannis's thoughts drifted back to the moment when this whole chaotic turn of events had begun. He had received word of the sudden and mysterious death of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. His reaction had been far from sorrowful or surprised. In fact, his initial response had been one of indifference.

"Serves him right," Stannis had muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. He had never been fond of Jon Arryn, seeing him as weak and easily influenced.

And when he heard the notion of divine intervention, or the gods themselves punishing Baelish for Arryn's death, it had seemed preposterous to him. Stannis had always been a man of logic and reason, and such mystical explanations held little weight in his mind.

'He was surely framed' , he thought about the accusations against Baelish. It was much more likely than the gods themselves striking him down.

'It must have been some kind of poison...'

However, as he delved deeper into the details of what had transpired, doubt had crept into his thoughts. The rumors and whispers in King's Landing spoke of an eerie curse that had befallen Petyr Baelish, one that defied explanation. It was said that Baelish had been marked by the gods themselves for his role in Jon Arryn's death , and there were many who claimed they witnessed it firsthand.

Stannis had been skeptical, of course, but he couldn't entirely dismiss the notion. The events that had unfolded in the capital. It was as if the divine had cast its shadow over King's Landing, and Stannis couldn't ignore the possibility that there was more to it than met the eye.

But in his heart, Stannis held no illusions about the gods favoring the prince , the one who supposedly evoked the gods to bring justice. He was a practical man, driven by a desire for justice and a belief in his own right to rule. The mysteries of religion and the whims of gods were of little concern to him. What mattered was power, and Stannis would stop at nothing to claim it.

The news of Robert's sudden death had washed over Stannis like a wave, and a feeling of elation had engulfed him. It wasn't that he took joy in his brother's passing , far from it. But it was the sudden absence of the weight of his brother's shadow, the chance to step out from behind Robert's immense presence and claim what he believed to be rightfully his.

As the realm mourned their fallen king, Stannis had wasted no time. He knew that the chaotic succession crisis would provide him with a unique opportunity to seize power. Swiftly and discreetly, he began contacting the lords of the Stormlands and the Reach, those who had long owed their allegiances to House Baratheon. His proposals were cunningly crafted, suggesting that he should take the reins of the realm until Joffrey, the young prince, came of age.

Stannis played the role of the dutiful and responsible older brother, asserting that he, as the next in line for the throne, would provide a stable and unwavering hand to guide the realm through these troubled times. His words were carefully chosen to win over the lords, emphasizing his loyalty to their house and his commitment to maintaining order.

But beneath the surface, hidden from prying eyes and listening ears, Stannis harbored a much darker plan. He knew that once he held the throne as regent, he would have the means to orchestrate the downfall of Joffrey. It was a risky and dangerous scheme, one that would require careful plotting and a network of allies who could be trusted to carry out his will.

Stannis was aware that this path was fraught with peril, but he was willing to take the risks.

In his mind, it was not only his destiny but his duty to sit upon the Iron Throne.

Stannis had thought he was on the brink of fulfilling his destiny, of claiming the throne that was rightfully his. But his plans came crashing down around him when he received the disturbing news from the capital. The absurdities happening in King's Landing were beyond comprehension, and it filled him with an anger that simmered like a smoldering fire.

First and foremost, the Iron Throne, a symbol of the rightful rule of House Baratheon, had been desecrated. It had been turned into a preposterous statue of his brother, Robert, a mockery of everything Stannis had believed in. It was an affront to his honor, to his birthright, and to the legacy of their house.

But the insult did not stop there. Joffrey, the young prince, had seen fit to declare himself king, without seeking counsel from anyone. It was a blatant disregard for the laws of succession and an affront to the authority of House Baratheon. Stannis seethed at the audacity of the boy who dared to steal the throne that was rightfully his.

And then there was the matter of Joffrey's choice for Hand of the King. A half-man, Tyrion Lannister, who was known for his cunning and deceit. It was a decision that made a mockery of the position and a slap in the face to Stannis and all those who had sworn fealty to House Baratheon. How could a dwarf, of all people, be entrusted with the realm's governance?

But what angered Stannis the most was the reaction of the masses. The people of King's Landing, ignorant and easily swayed, had embraced Joffrey as the "Blessed King" for his supposed ability to summon the gods at will. They hailed him as the "Humble King" for his absurdity in sitting on a wooden chair instead of the proper throne. It was madness, a delusion, and it made Stannis question the sanity of the entire city.

Even the infamous Mad King Aerys, in all his madness, had not stooped to such levels of absurdity. Joffrey's antics were an insult to the very concept of kingship, a perversion of the realm's traditions, and a blatant mockery of House Baratheon's rightful claim to the throne.

Stannis's anger was a seething tempest within him, threatening to consume him entirely. He knew that he could not stand idly by and let this farce continue. He would gather his loyal bannermen, rally the forces of the Stormlands, and march on King's Landing. The Iron Throne was his by right, and he would not allow it to be defiled by the likes of Joffrey Baratheon.

Stannis knew that before he took any drastic action, he needed to undermine Joffrey's claim to the throne. Sending letters to all the lords in Westeros, declaring Joffrey a bastard, was a calculated move. While he lacked concrete proof of the boy's parentage, Stannis intended to plant a seed of doubt in the hearts of those who supported him. He would cast suspicion on Joffrey's legitimacy, hoping that it would weaken his position.

The argument that a true Baratheon should have had dark hair was Stannis's weapon of choice. It was a subtle way to challenge the boy's lineage and legitimacy without making direct accusations. Stannis was well aware that this alone might not be enough to sway the loyalty of the lords, but it was a start—a crack in the foundation of Joffrey's rule.

What troubled Stannis even more was the fact that Eddard Stark, the honorable fool from the North, seemed to back up Joffrey's claim to the throne. That meant the whole North was potentially rallying behind the false king, and it greatly concerned Stannis. The North was a powerful and vast region, and its support for Joffrey could tip the balance in his favor.

But he was determined to claim the throne that was rightfully his, and he would not rest until he had done so. The game of thrones was a dangerous one, and Stannis Baratheon was ready to play it with all the cunning and determination at his disposal.

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Melisandre pov :

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I find myself in a state of confusion, not about the recent events unfolding in King's Landing, for I understand that they are the divine orchestration of the Lord of Light. No, what truly perplexes me is the sudden and unsettling silence of my lord.

For two long months, there has been naught but an eerie silence in response to my prayers and offerings. Ever since that fateful day when I heard those cryptic words from the flames, "Things have changed," I have been left in the dark, uncertain of what this silence means.

I have witnessed the power of the Lord of Light firsthand, performing miracles and seeing visions of things to come. His guidance has always been my beacon, leading me to serve His will with unwavering devotion. But now, as the world around me shifts and trembles with chaos, I find myself adrift, without His divine guidance to light my way.

Is this silence a test of my faith, a trial I must endure to prove my unwavering loyalty? Or has something truly changed in the heavens, a shift in the cosmic balance that has disrupted the usual flow of divine communication?

I have always believed that my visions and prophecies were a direct channel to my lord's will. But now, I am forced to question if I have been merely interpreting signs and symbols as I wished them to be, rather than truly understanding His grand design.

The uncertainty gnaws at me, and I cannot help but wonder if I have failed in some way, if my faith has wavered or my devotion faltered. I long to hear His voice once more, to receive His guidance and reassurance. But for now, all I can do is continue to pray, to offer my sacrifices, and to hope that the Lord of Light will break this silence and reveal His divine purpose in due time.

The pawns' letters, who now declared himself king, held no sway over me. They were filled with empty promises . My faith was unwavering, my devotion absolute, and I knew that the Lord had chosen Stannis Baratheon as His vessel.

Yet, as I heard of the so-called "Blessed King" wield powers that should have been reserved for Stannis alone, doubt crept into my heart for the first time. Was this truly the orchestration of my lord, the Lord of Light, or was there something else at play here? Why was Joffrey Baratheon able to command divine powers with such ease, with prayers that weren't even properly formulated, and to the Seven false gods no less?

Questions swirled within my mind, doubts that I had never before entertained. Had I been mistaken in my unwavering faith in Stannis? Had the Lord of Light chosen another path, and I, His devoted servant, was left in the dark? It was a troubling thought, one that gnawed at my very soul.

The visions I had received, the prophecies I had interpreted, all had pointed to Stannis as the Chosen One. I had seen the flaming sword Lightbringer in my dreams, and I had believed that it would be Stannis who would wield it to vanquish the darkness that threatened the world.

Now, with the young king flaunting his powers and the people hailing him as blessed, I couldn't help but question the nature of these miracles. Were they truly the work of the Lord of Light, or was there some other, darker force at play? I knew that the shadows held many secrets, and the world was a complex web of power and deception.

But one thing remained certain: my faith in the Lord of Light would not waver. I would seek answers, pray for guidance, and remain ever vigilant in my pursuit of His will. Whether Joffrey Baratheon's newfound abilities were divine or something more sinister, the true path would be revealed in time, and I would be there to witness it.

But as I grappled with doubts and questions, a chilling thought sent shivers down my spine. What if this was not the work of the Lord of Light, but rather a plot orchestrated by the Dark God himself? The notion was both terrifying and infuriating.

The world was a battlefield where opposing deities clashed, using mortals as their pawns. I had always believed that the Lord of Light was the guiding force, the one true deity whose light would banish the shadows. But now, the emergence of Joffrey Baratheon as the "Blessed King" sowed seeds of uncertainty in my heart.

Could it be that the Dark God was manipulating events from the shadows, casting his wicked influence upon the world? Were they attempting to subvert the path of righteousness and lead humanity astray? It was a maddening thought, one that threatened to unravel the core of my faith.

But I refused to succumb to despair. I was a servant of the Lord of Light, and my purpose was clear: to seek the truth, to discern the divine will, and to ensure that the forces of darkness would not prevail. The battles of gods and men raged on, and I would not falter in my devotion, even in the face of uncertainty.

I would continue to pray, to look to the flames for guidance, and to interpret the signs as best I could. Whether this was a test of faith or a malevolent scheme, the Lord of Light would reveal His true intentions in due time. Until then, I would remain steadfast, a beacon of unwavering faith in a world where shadows threatened to engulf the light.

"𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗜𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀" I muttered once again after I reached my own chambers , having left Stannis alone with his thoughts.

'But with faith...we shall prevail' I thought, gently stroking the gemstone adorning my necklace, a reminder of the Lord's power...

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A.N :

""There are a number of reasons why people turn to drugs.

Escape, acceptance, curiosity, or just plain boredom.

But whatever the reason it can all be traced back to their desire to change their lives."