The Blackwater River originated in the rolling hills of the Westerlands, wound its way through the Stone Sept in the Riverlands, crossed the Golden Road, and finally flowed south of King's Landing into the sprawling Blackwater Bay. Its waters shimmered faintly under the pale autumn sun, reflecting the distant silhouette of the city's walls and towers. Though the chill of winter was beginning to creep into the air, the murmur of daily life persisted outside the Mud Gate. Hawkers shouted, children ran barefoot through the narrow streets, and fishermen pulled nets heavy with glistening fish from the river. Life carried on with stubborn determination.For the common folk, wars were little more than stories in the wind. The battles of nobles, the schemes of kings, the shifting tides of power—they were distant echoes in the lives of those who merely sought to survive from one day to the next. As long as the sword did not fall upon them, they would rise with the sun to earn their living.At the port, a magnificent ship rocked gently against the tide. Its hull gleamed silver-white, polished to perfection, and the deck was patrolled by warriors clad in shimmering armor, each armed with long swords and battle axes. The officers moved with precision, maintaining formation as they checked the rigging and supervised the crew. Onboard, the air smelled faintly of salt, oil lamps, and wood smoke. Inside the captain's cabin, the atmosphere was far heavier.Stannis Baratheon sat rigidly at the polished oak table, his grey wool overcoat draped neatly over his shoulders. A dark red cloak fell behind him, its edges brushing the floor. At his waist hung a longsword and a dagger in plain black leather scabbards, the tools of his office and his name. On his head rested the flame-shaped red-gold crown, which shimmered faintly in the flickering light of the oil lamps. His face was tight, expression controlled, as his eyes fixed on the Riverlands Regent, seated across from him in a black, gold-embroidered robe. Eddard Karstark, in contrast, wore a warm smile."Lord Stannis, it is a pleasure to meet you," Eddard began, gesturing toward a simple wooden box that had been brought forward by Kalas Snow. "This is a gift I have prepared for you."The box was opened, revealing a neatly bound book."Archmaester Pycelle provided this," Eddard explained. "It contains details on greyscale and records of several texts on treating this disease. If time permits, you may wish to send someone to the Citadel. Perhaps some discoveries will be of use."Stannis's expression softened slightly, though it was a fleeting change. His relationship with his wife was distant, almost cold, and their interactions were infrequent, perhaps twice a year at most. Yet the Baratheon king still cared deeply for his daughter, Shireen, who was his heir. Should anything befall him, she would inherit the Baratheon throne."Thank you," Stannis said simply, his voice measured but tinged with genuine appreciation.A middle-aged man, standing nearby in a faded green cloak, stepped forward and accepted the book. His robe bore a black ship with an onion embroidered on its chest—an insignia of loyalty and service."You wrote in your letter that you intend to return King's Landing to me?" Stannis asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.Eddard's smile never faltered. "I said I would return it because I know Cersei Lannister's children are not Robert's blood. You are Robert Baratheon's closest living relative, and as such, you should inherit his throne."Yet the Regent's true purpose was more strategic than charitable. By returning King's Landing to Stannis, he could stabilize the Baratheon king long enough to continue pressing Tywin Lannister, drawing the attention and forces of the Reach and Dorne, and ultimately paving the way for further military campaigns. In the broader scheme, when Daenerys Targaryen returned to Westeros atop her three dragons, King's Landing would be the first city she would target. With Stannis secured, Eddard would have the time and resources to prepare for the Targaryen threat while keeping Westeros under manageable control.Stannis's mind, however, was occupied with other concerns. "I have heard that your wife calls herself the Queen of the Trident, and that Brandon Stark has inherited Robb Stark's title of King in the North. Isn't this treason? Isn't it tearing the kingdom apart?""Stannis," Eddard replied, his tone firm, tapping the table for emphasis, "you lack the prestige, the accomplishments, and the allies necessary to command the North or the Riverlands at this moment.""I reminded you that the Wall is under threat from the Others and the dead," Eddard continued, "and requested dragonglass to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Instead, you wrote back demanding submission in exchange. Are we traitors, then what are you? A spoiled man clinging to a legacy that is not your own?"Stannis's jaw tightened. "You speak of legitimacy, yet the Starks submitted to the Targaryens three hundred years ago. The Riverlands were only created by Aegon I. And now you claim there is a Targaryen heir, ready to assume the crown and rule in the interest of the people?""They are madmen," Stannis said through gritted teeth. "Your father-in-law, my brother Robert, and Lord Jon Arryn fought a war to remove them. Do you intend to welcome them back?""Madmen? Was Robert Baratheon a competent king?" Eddard countered, a mocking smile curling his lips. "On the battlefield, yes—he was brave, a capable warrior. But once he donned the crown, he knew only indulgence: drinking, hunting, and pleasure-seeking. The chaos and death that followed, including the death of my father-in-law, are his legacy. And yet, he was still your king. Do you wish to follow in his footsteps, Stannis?"The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Stannis's jaw twitched, veins protruding on his forehead. Lord Davos Seaworth shifted uneasily, uncertain how to intercede. Beside him, Melisandre regarded Eddard with an unreadable expression, sensing an unusual, powerful force emanating from him—strange, strong, and different from the one true god, R'hllor, yet neither cold nor malevolent like the Great Other.After a long pause, Stannis's voice broke the silence. "Then what are your terms?"Eddard drew a parchment from his sleeve and laid it on the table. "Firstly, regarding the Vale, you will pardon all crimes committed by the lords of that region once you ascend the throne. Secondly, you must publicly acknowledge that Petyr Baelish and Lysa Tully were responsible for Lord Jon Arryn's death and demand the surrender of Lord Robert Arryn for justice. There is evidence; Varys and Archmaester Pycelle can testify, and should that prove insufficient, Lady Melisandre may consult with her god."Stannis's expression hardened. "This cannot be done lightly. False accusations could provoke unrest."Eddard's smile remained. "The evidence exists. Justice will be served. Thirdly, the North and the Riverlands must declare independence. They are no longer vassals. Their lords and knights are freed from all obligations to House Baratheon and the Iron Throne."The words were heavy. Stannis's gaze drifted over the parchment. Three-sevenths of his kingdom were lost, and two-sevenths were under Tommen I's control. Remaining were the Crownlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands—the lands the Baratheons had ruled for generations."Do you truly believe I will agree to this?" Stannis asked, his tone icy.Eddard shrugged, cool and measured. "You gain Stark as an ally. Whether resisting the Others or challenging Tywin, I will stand by your side. You will not face these trials alone."Silence lingered, punctuated only by the gentle rocking of the ship. Then, with measured calm, Stannis nodded. "Your honor?""On my honor," Eddard replied.Davos Seaworth stepped forward cautiously. "Once this transaction is complete, my king will enter King's Landing, inevitably drawing Tywin's attention. Under such circumstances, your campaigns in the Westerlands will be far smoother. Even if the Lannisters retaliate, we can pressure the Reach to back down.""Good," Eddard said, approving. "And after that?""You will assist my king in ending Tommen I's reign and ensure that Houses Tyrell and Martell recognize their true king before winter. The Iron Islands must be neutralized; Euron Greyjoy's threat cannot be ignored.""Agreed," Stannis replied, a flicker of cold fire in his eyes. Stark's self-proclaimed kingship was secondary, ultimately a nuisance. The Greyjoys, however, were an unforgivable, capricious danger. Robert had been too lenient with them. Once Pyke was breached again, all Greyjoy rebels would face justice.The deal was struck. A plan forged, not merely on the grounds of legitimacy, but through careful negotiation, strategy, and the hard pragmatism of men who knew the cost of power.The Blackwater flowed silently below, reflecting the red-gold glow of the setting sun—a witness to a pact that would shape the fate of Westeros.---
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