Ironborn?
But wasn't Blackwater Bay blockaded by House Targaryen, which now occupied Dragonstone? How had he gotten through?
The same doubt flashed through the minds of both the King and his Hand, but neither voiced it. The reason was simple—Stannis and Davos had first met during the most desperate days of the siege of Storm's End, when Davos sailed a small, black-sailed boat laden with onions and salted fish through the Redwyne Fleet's blockade around the Arbor to deliver supplies under cover of darkness. That lifeline allowed the garrison to hold out until the end of the war.
The ocean is vast. No matter how many ships are deployed, an airtight blockade is nearly impossible. As long as the boat is small and fast enough, and the helmsman skilled and daring, it's entirely possible to slip through undetected. Let alone a group of seasoned pirates.
"Bring him to me."
The man had already arrived outside the Red Keep and was quickly escorted into the hall after the order was given. He was a scrawny, short middle-aged man with a lecherous air, a sharp face, sunken cheeks, and a face full of boils. When he grinned, his mouth revealed a set of yellowed teeth, enough to make anyone avert their eyes. Stannis even began to suspect whether this man had been sent by Euron or Daenerys specifically to disgust him.
Fortunately, his words were at least clear and articulate.
"The King of the Iron Islands sends greetings to the King of King's Landing and the Stormlands. May Your Grace be well."
"You scoundrel!" Davos snapped. Wasn't the King's mood already bad enough? Even the little pirate king of the Iron Islands had come to mock him and stir up more trouble? The Onion Knight jutted his neck forward, face grim, stepping toward the newcomer. Though not tall, he still stood half a head higher than the squat man. "His Grace is the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, you—"
"Enough."
Stannis shook his head and waved his hand, cutting off his Hand's defense of his royal titles.
King of King's Landing and the Stormlands? The envoy had deliberately used that term to provoke, of course, but given the current state of affairs, even that was generous. Four of the Seven Kingdoms were in rebellion, two had declared neutrality, and the Stormlands had been devastated by the Golden Company and were in no position to aid him.
Even if the envoy had referred to him simply as "King of King's Landing," how could he refute it?
At this point, that was essentially the full extent of his realm.
"I have no time to learn your name, where you're from, what you're thinking, or to engage in wordplay with you," Stannis said, his face stiff and cold as ice. "Just deliver the message your master sent you with, and then, while it's still dark, get back to where you came from."
"As you command." The short man grinned and bowed, then cleared his throat. His expression suddenly turned serious. "King Euron asked me to deliver a message. The Iron Fleet has entered Blackwater Bay and can join the battle at sea at any time to assist Your Grace in defending King's Landing. As long as you are willing to publicly acknowledge Euron Greyjoy as the undisputed ruler of the Iron Islands, the North, and the Riverlands, then King Euron will, in turn, recognize you as the King of the East, the Reach, Dorne, and the Stormlands. The two realms will form a permanent alliance, agree to non-aggression and mutual support. If necessary, intermarriage can even be arranged. What say you?"
Stannis's expression didn't change. His voice remained calm.
"Let me understand this clearly. Euron's offer is this—if I agree to give up one-third of the Seven Kingdoms and rule Westeros jointly with him, then the Iron Fleet will assist me in defending King's Landing in the battle to come. Is that correct?"
"Heh heh..." The envoy grinned again, returning to his rogue demeanor. "Yes. Your Grace truly is a king. That's exactly what it means."
"Hmph." Stannis was incapable of a relaxed expression. Even a sneer from him carried a grim edge. After a cold snort, he continued to glare at the envoy, his eyes like frozen daggers, until the man felt his scalp tingle and cold sweat form on his back. Only then did the king slowly speak.
"A rebel who stole my lands dares to send someone into the Red Keep to offer terms? Even if King's Landing's defenses were already collapsing and Aerys's remnants were fighting my guards outside that very door, I would still rather leap from the highest tower and give the Iron Throne to the enemy, than compromise the unity of the Seven Kingdoms by bargaining with a traitor and pirate lord. Guards, seize him!"
The guards who had just stepped outside reentered swiftly and pounced on the Ironborn envoy like wolves, pinning him to the floor.
"The usurper Euron Greyjoy, the false king known as Crow's Eye, has torn the Iron Islands from the realm and now covets the North and Riverlands. To punish the Ironborn for their crimes against these three regions, cut off three of this man's fingers and throw him back into the sea!"
"Yes!"
"Ah?" The Ironborn was pressed to the cold stone floor before he could even react. As he struggled, he shouted in panic, "Your Grace, have mercy! Even in war, envoys are not to be harmed! I was only delivering a message. I took no part in the crimes of splitting your kingdom or raiding your people!"
The two soldiers paid no attention. One twisted his right arm behind his back, suppressing his struggles. The other stepped on his left hand, drawing a dagger with a metallic ring, preparing to carry out the punishment.
"Wait!" Stannis suddenly ordered.
Everyone in the room froze, thinking he had changed his mind. But Stannis continued.
"You came by boat, yes?"
"Yes, yes, Your Grace. If you cut off my fingers, I'll be unable to row. I won't be able to return to the Iron Fleet and report to King Euron... Your Grace, I beg you, please show mercy!"
"You make a fair point. Drag him out and cut off his toes instead. That won't affect your ability to row."
The guards sheathed their daggers and dragged the Ironborn envoy, stunned into silence, out of the war room. Moments later, screams, wails, and the sounds of struggling echoed from outside the door.
Accompanied by those pitiful cries, Davos turned to Stannis in shock and immediately objected to the way he'd handled the envoy.
"Your Grace, even if Euron is a usurper, couldn't we at least have played along for now? We wouldn't need to let the Ironborn into the Red Keep, only have them tie down Daenerys's fleet in Blackwater Bay. That way, she wouldn't be able to launch a full assault from both land and sea. Why drive away the only reinforcements we might get and cut ourselves off from the gods?"
In his urgency, the Onion Knight's tone had become anxious. The King's actions had bordered on madness. If Stannis had truly lost his mind from despair, then even a loyal follower willing to die with him would start to waver and consider other options.
"Heh. Do you really believe Euron Greyjoy sailed all the way to Blackwater Bay just to help me defend the city?" Stannis's voice was filled with disdain. "He came only to further stir the pot. He doesn't want any one of the three—me, Daenerys, or Aegon—to win easily. He wants the standoff to continue indefinitely so he can raid the Seven Kingdoms freely and spill more blood."
"He intends to maintain the balance of power across the realm in the most brainless way—whoever gains the upper hand, he harasses and weakens. Whoever is about to lose, he helps just enough to keep them alive. That way, the war never ends. Under this plan, as long as I remain the weakest of the three, he has no choice but to help me."
Stannis turned to look at Davos, his eyes gleaming faintly.
"Even if I had him cut into pieces and sent back with a letter insulting his ancestors for three generations, the moment Daenerys launches a full assault tomorrow, he'll still sail in to give her a kick. Believe it or not?"
"So that's it! Your Grace is truly brilliant!"
Davos thought for a moment and suddenly understood. The King was right. Not only had he not lost his composure, he was as shrewd and sharp as ever—perhaps even more confident than before.
In fact, Davos's instincts were correct. In Stannis's original plan, he had even considered burning the royal fleet and withdrawing all ground crews from the docks, reassigning them as urban defense units. After all, the royal fleet had no chance against House Targaryen's vastly superior numbers. Why waste men and ships?
That strategy would slightly improve defenses inside the city walls, but it also meant completely ceding naval control to the enemy. That would allow the attackers to press from both the east, at the Steel Gate facing Blackwater Bay, and the south, at the Mud Gate by the Blackwater Rush. King's Landing would be besieged from four sides.
It was a bitter dilemma—abandon sea control to reinforce the city, or risk everything in an unwinnable naval battle.
But now, with the unexpected arrival of the Ironborn fleet, there was no need to make that choice. Suddenly, the odds of holding King's Landing had gone from virtually zero to... something. Still bleak, but no longer hopeless.
More importantly, the psychological impact was greater than the military one. This was the third time Stannis had stood on the edge of despair. And once again, fate had opened a new path.
No matter how desperate things still were, at least now... he could enter the final battle with renewed fighting spirit, and calmly face whatever ending awaited him.
(To be continued.)
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