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He was no longer the Stannis who strictly worshipped law and order.
He was the earthly envoy of the Lord of Light!
He was the King of Sacred Fire!
"Davos."
Davos Seaworth stepped out from the back of the massive crowd, his face heavily etched with profound anxiety.
He looked at the King standing before him—a man who was simultaneously deeply familiar and entirely, terrifyingly alien—and felt his very soul violently tremble.
"My Lord."
"The envoys from House Tyrell. How have they been handled?"
Davos swallowed hard.
"They... they are still waiting in the side hall."
"Excellent."
Stannis stepped down from the elevated platform.
"Bring them here."
"And bring Loras Tyrell up as well."
Davos's heart violently seized.
He perfectly understood. Stannis was officially initiating the next phase of his apocalyptic plan.
---
Inside the cavernous hall of Storm's End, the atmosphere was so oppressively heavy it was literally suffocating.
An envoy bearing the golden rose crest of House Tyrell stood dead center in the hall, violently fidgeting.
He stared at the man aggressively occupying Lord Renly's throne, his palms completely drenched in cold sweat.
Right at that exact second.
The heavy, scraping sound of iron chains echoed across the freezing stone floor.
Loras Tyrell, the "Knight of Flowers," was brutally dragged into the hall by two heavily armored guards.
His signature, highly ornate armor was completely gone, replaced by a filthy, ragged prisoner's tunic.
His usually handsome, effortlessly arrogant face was heavily marred by deep cuts and thick grime.
But his eyes—burning exactly like a cornered, unyielding lion—were locked dead onto Stannis sitting on the throne.
"Stannis!"
Loras's voice was dripping with absolute, bone-deep hatred.
"You fucking fratricidal monster! You demon!"
Stannis completely ignored the toxic barrage of curses.
He simply shifted his dead, freezing gaze directly onto the deeply traumatized Tyrell envoy.
"You have seen it."
Stannis's voice was lethally calm.
"He, Loras Tyrell, violently murdered my brother, Renly Baratheon of the Stormlands."
"According to the absolute law, he is to be executed."
The Tyrell envoy violently shuddered, immediately dropping heavily to his knees.
"My Lord! There absolutely must be a misunderstanding!"
"How could Lord Loras possibly—"
"The soldiers witnessed it with their own eyes."
Stannis aggressively cut him off, his tone an ironclad, irrefutable decree.
"However..."
Stannis's fingers methodically, heavily tapped the armrest of the throne.
"I am a merciful King."
"I can actively provide him with a single opportunity to absolve his sins."
The envoy snapped his head up, a desperate flicker of hope flashing in his eyes.
"As long as House Tyrell is willing to swear absolute fealty to me—the one, true, lawful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."
"As long as Lord Mace Tyrell actively leads the massive armies of the Reach to follow my banner."
"I will entirely pardon Loras's crimes."
The envoy's brain violently buzzed.
Trade the absolute military supremacy of the entire Reach for a single life?
This transaction...
"Of course, absolute loyalty alone is insufficient."
Stannis's freezing voice echoed once again.
"To properly physically manifest the sincerity of our new alliance."
He slowly stood up, marching heavily down the steps of the throne.
"I must unfortunately inform you."
"My wife, Queen Selyse, was completely unable to endure the highly toxic, damp climate of Dragonstone. She tragically fell ill and passed away just days ago."
Stannis delivered this massive news without a single ounce of grief on his face, speaking exactly as if he were casually discussing the weather.
The envoy was completely paralyzed.
Dead?!
How the actual fuck had absolutely no one heard about this?
"Therefore."
Stannis stopped dead in front of the envoy, staring down at him with an oppressive, absolute dominance.
"I require a new Queen."
"I have heard that Lord Mace's daughter, Lady Margaery Tyrell, possesses flawless, unmatched beauty. The absolute most radiant rose in the entirety of the Reach."
"I believe she is highly suited for this exact position."
BOOM!
The envoy felt his brain literally detonate!
Stannis didn't just want the absolute military might of House Tyrell!
He explicitly demanded to marry Lady Margaery!
This... this was nothing but a violent, naked threat!
If House Tyrell refused, Loras would be permanently executed!
If House Tyrell agreed, Lady Margaery would be forced to marry this unhinged, apocalyptic fanatic of the Lord of Light!
"Go back and deliver this exactly to Mace Tyrell."
Stannis didn't give him a single fraction of a second to process.
"My patience is incredibly limited."
"I am giving him exactly one month to consider."
"If that deadline arrives and I do not see his massive army, nor do I see Margaery..."
Stannis slowly turned around, locking his dead gaze onto Loras, who was still pinned violently to the floor by the guards.
"I will actively, personally ignite his son's execution pyre."
---
Highgarden.
When the envoy flawlessly repeated Stannis's absolute ultimatum verbatim, the entire Great Hall violently plunged into a terrifying, dead silence.
"That absolute bastard!"
Lord Mace Tyrell—the notoriously soft, peace-loving man—was currently so apocalyptically furious he violently smashed his heavy wine goblet directly into the stone floor.
"He actually dares to violently threaten me?!"
"He actually dares to target my daughter?!"
Sitting right next to him, the "Queen of Thorns," Olenna Tyrell, was methodically tapping the heavy wooden table with a single finger. Her heavily lined face was a completely unreadable, dead-calm mask.
Standing dead center in the hall, Margaery Tyrell's face was already completely drained of all color.
Marry Stannis?!
That aging, repulsive fanatic who was highly likely the absolute mastermind behind Renly's violent assassination?!
Just actively visualizing the concept made her physically nauseous.
In her heart, there was absolutely only one man—the unfathomably powerful, god-like entity currently residing in King's Landing!
"Father! I will absolutely never marry him!"
Margaery's voice violently cracked with sheer, desperate panic.
"Shut your mouth!"
Mace Tyrell let out an unprecedented, violent roar.
He looked at his daughter, his brain actively, violently clashing with the horrifying reality of his eldest son locked in Stannis's dungeons.
An apocalyptic, psychological war was currently tearing his mind apart.
"We have absolutely no choice."
After a heavily agonizing silence, Lord Mace collapsed backward into his chair, entirely defeated.
"If we strictly refuse, Loras is permanently dead."
"The absolute heir to House Tyrell will be violently burned alive on a heretic's pyre!"
"That is an apocalyptic disgrace we absolutely cannot accept!"
"So you are going to actively throw your own daughter to that unhinged heretic to be used as a plaything?"
Olenna's voice was lethally, absolutely freezing.
"You complete fucking idiot!"
"Are you completely blind?! Stannis has entirely lost his goddamn mind!"
"If you violently forge an alliance with him, you are actively chaining the absolute entirety of House Tyrell directly to his apocalyptic war chariot!"
"Then exactly what the hell do you suggest we do?!" Mace aggressively fired back, his own rage violently flaring.
"Am I supposed to just sit here and actively watch Loras be permanently incinerated?!"
"He is your grandson, too!"
Olenna was momentarily, violently choked by his words.
Of course she deeply, profoundly cared for Loras.
But her heavily calculated mind knew perfectly well that cooperating with Stannis was the absolute equivalent of actively inviting a starving wolf into your house.
"I have made my decision."
Mace violently shoved himself to his feet.
"Send word back to Stannis immediately."
"I entirely accept his terms."
"In exactly three days, I will personally lead the massive army of the Reach and violently march to Storm's End to merge with his forces."
"As for Margaery..."
He threw a heavy glance at his completely paralyzed, terrified daughter.
"Start preparing immediately. You are going to be the absolute future Queen."
"NO!"
Margaery let out a bloodcurdling, violent shriek.
"I would rather die than marry that bastard!"
"I am permanently Lynn's! I have already slept with him!"
She was completely, desperately grasping at straws, frantically trying to use absolute shock value to permanently derail Mace's decision.
"Who gives a single flying fuck whose woman you are?! Stannis is exclusively looking for a heavily calculated political marriage! Whether he actually touches you is completely irrelevant!"
"This is absolutely no longer up for debate!"
Mace aggressively waved his hand.
"Guards! Drag Margaery back to her chambers and lock her down immediately!"
"She is absolutely forbidden from taking a single step outside those doors!"
Two heavily armored guards immediately stepped forward, violently seizing Margaery by both arms.
Margaery aggressively, frantically thrashed against them, but she was entirely powerless to break the ironclad grip of two massive soldiers.
She was brutally, forcefully dragged straight out of the Great Hall.
Her deeply devastated, desperate screams violently echoed down the long stone corridors.
---
The night was oppressively, suffocatingly dark.
Margaery was completely locked inside her sprawling chambers, with two heavily armed guards standing rigidly right outside her door.
She sat heavily by the massive window, staring out at the freezing, pale moon. Heavy tears silently, continuously slid down her face.
Marry Stannis?
Absolutely fucking not!
She genuinely, truly preferred death!
A highly radical, entirely unhinged thought began violently mutating in her brain.
Run!
She absolutely had to break out!
To King's Landing!
She had to find Lynn!
He was the absolute, only man in this entire godforsaken world capable of saving her!
She aggressively wiped the tears from her face. She violently ripped a massive section of heavy silk sheets from her bed, rapidly twisting it into a thick, improvised rope.
She securely tied one end in an ironclad knot directly to the massive, heavy bedpost.
She violently threw the other end straight out the window.
Shooting one last, highly tense look toward the locked door, she took a massive, shaking breath, threw her leg over the stone sill, and crawled out.
The freezing, aggressive night wind violently whipped her long hair around her face.
Gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached, she heavily, agonizingly lowered herself down the improvised rope inch by inch.
Finally, her boots softly, firmly hit the solid ground.
She didn't dare waste a single fraction of a second. She aggressively hiked up her heavy skirts and violently sprinted straight toward the stables.
---