Narrow Sea – Dragonstone
"Lord Stannis!" Pierce bowed slightly. "Thank you for greeting us in person. May the Seven bless Dragonstone."
Stannis gave a stiff nod. His posture was as rigid as ever, but his tone was a touch warmer than usual. "Pierce. Welcome back. Was your voyage smooth?"
"Everything went perfectly, my lord," Pierce replied, straightening up and gesturing behind him. "Allow me to introduce Princess Arianne Martell, heir to Dorne. She's here on a return visit to Golden Port and plans to continue on to King's Landing for diplomatic talks."
Arianne stepped forward gracefully and offered a perfect Dornish curtsy. "Lord Stannis, thank you for your hospitality and the blessing of the Seven. Dragonstone is truly more impressive than the legends describe."
Stannis's face grew even stiffer. The relationship between Dorne and House Baratheon was complicated, but diplomatic protocol had to be observed. The fact that Dorne had sent their heir showed they were at least open to reconciliation.
He returned the bow awkwardly. "Princess, welcome to Dragonstone. I hope you enjoy your stay."
Dorne followed the Seven, but many of their customs clashed with the Faith's teachings. Even the septons had long since given up trying to change them. As far as the Faith was concerned, simply being allowed to preach in Dorne was already a blessing from the gods.
Pierce then briefly introduced Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene as Princess Arianne's companions and "foster daughters" of Prince Oberyn.
Stannis clearly knew the reputation of the Sand Snakes; his frown deepened, but he said nothing. He had never approved of his brother fathering bastards left and right. In his eyes, Oberyn was no better than the rest.
The Sand name carried a stigma in many places. While discrimination wasn't severe in Dorne, the surname itself still symbolized impurity and moral looseness to outsiders.
Finally came Lys and Vira. Pierce introduced them as "business partners from Essos." Stannis gave them a brief glance and a curt nod.
Nobles were nobles precisely because they were different from commoners. For two Dornish women without even a proper surname, Stannis's minimal acknowledgment was already generous.
When it was Shireen's turn, the little girl stepped forward, shy but trying hard to look dignified. "Lord Pierce, welcome back."
Pierce knelt down to her eye level. The small gesture noticeably softened Stannis's expression.
"Lady Shireen, you've grown taller and even more beautiful!" he said with a warm smile, taking a gift box from a servant. "This is a present from Dorne — a miniature desert landscape made with colored sand. I hope you like it."
Shireen's eyes lit up. She accepted the box and whispered, "Thank you, my lord!"
The little girl was easy to please. Pierce's gifts had already filled her room, giving this once-neglected noble daughter a kind of happiness she had never known before.
While everyone exchanged pleasantries, Stannis's attention was drawn to the Golden Crab. He stared at the sleek warship that blended Essosi technology with local craftsmanship, a complicated look in his eyes.
"Your ship… it doesn't look like it's been through anything," Stannis said, genuine surprise in his voice. "You sailed all the way from Dorne without incident?"
As Master of Ships, Stannis knew exactly how dangerous Narrow Sea voyages could be. Pierce's ship looked suspiciously pristine.
"The voyage was smooth, my lord," Pierce replied. "We mostly relied on the sails. The winds this year have been unusually stable."
Stannis grunted and dropped the subject. He knew Pierce possessed certain… unconventional advantages. Those same advantages were the foundation of his immense wealth.
He lowered his voice slightly. "Selyse… she could give birth any day now, so she couldn't greet you personally. I hope you understand."
Pierce noticed the tiny, almost invisible upward twitch at the corner of Stannis's mouth. For Stannis, that was an extremely rare display of emotion.
The man was genuinely looking forward to this child.
Too bad his hopes were doomed to be shattered.
"Of course I understand, my lord," Pierce said sincerely. "May the Mother grant Lady Selyse a safe delivery. Will you have the maesters assist, or…?"
Maesters were the Swiss Army knives of the Seven Kingdoms — advisors, scribes, stewards, and physicians. Most noble children in Westeros were delivered by maesters.
Stannis's expression relaxed noticeably. "I found Sister Moana. That channel you recommended — the Faith project in Golden Port — Maester Cressen examined her credentials. She's highly skilled. She's been living in Dragonstone for a month now, ready at any moment."
Pierce nodded. This was one of his initiatives: partnering with the Faith of the Seven to train professional midwives and nursemaids.
Traditionally, noblewomen were assisted by older female relatives or experienced servants, but the lack of medical knowledge led to high mortality rates.
Some open-minded lords allowed maesters to assist in births to increase survival chances for both mother and child.
But not all nobles accepted that. Pierce saw both the business opportunity and the political angle.
He had collected medical texts from Essos and the Citadel, combined them with basic modern nursing principles, and established a training school in Golden Port.
The project was run by Septon Ray, an open-minded middle-aged septon who was very receptive to Pierce's "new knowledge." In truth, Ray was ambitious and saw great potential in the program.
Under Pierce's support, the Faith in Golden Port had begun to diverge subtly from the traditional church.
He had even selected seven septons and septas with special talents, each responsible for a different field: medicine, education, commercial arbitration, poor relief, record-keeping, architectural planning, and diplomacy.
They were called the "Golden Seven," and under Septon Ray's leadership, the Golden Port Faith had become an organization that combined religious duties with real social services.
Naturally, this had drawn the wary attention of the Starry Sept in Oldtown and the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. But Pierce had already muddied the waters. King's Landing was currently preoccupied with the growing power of Melisandre's Red Temple, and the Starry Sept was simply too far away to interfere.
In the near future, a new religious force would begin reshaping the spiritual landscape of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Sister Moana is one of our best graduates," Pierce told Stannis. "She has delivered over thirty babies without a single failure, including three difficult births that she handled successfully."
Stannis looked visibly pleased. "Good. That's far better than those superstitious old crones."
Many traditional midwives relied heavily on prayers and rituals — which did nothing for actual medical outcomes.
At that moment, Arianne politely asked if they could retire to the castle to rest. Only then did Stannis remember they were still standing on the dock. He quickly regained his stern demeanor.
"Of course! The guest rooms are ready." He turned to lead the way but paused. Looking at Pierce, he lowered his voice. "Pierce, once the guests are settled, I wish to speak with you privately. There are matters… we need to discuss."
Pierce caught the unusual weight in Stannis's tone. "Of course, my lord."
Dragonstone – Lady Selyse's Chambers
The interior of Dragonstone was always damp and cold, even in summer. The black stone walls absorbed heat, keeping the castle much cooler than the outside world.
The corridors were deep and gloomy, lit only by sparse torches. The dragon-shaped pillars cast grotesque, twisting shadows in the flickering firelight.
Lady Selyse Florent's chambers were on the middle level — one of the few rooms in Dragonstone that had been carefully redecorated.
Although House Florent was not among the richest houses, Selyse had brought a generous dowry with her marriage. She had used part of it to transform these rooms.
Fine tapestries from the Reach hung on the walls, depicting forests and hunting scenes — traditional Florent motifs. Thick Myr carpets covered the floors, soft and silent underfoot.
A good oak fire burned in the hearth, driving away the castle's natural chill. On the dressing table sat a silver mirror and various cosmetics. A delicate birdcage hung by the window, holding a brightly colored kingfisher.
But right now, no amount of luxury could ease the mistress's anxiety.
Selyse sat in a cushioned chair by the window, both hands resting on her heavily swollen belly.
She was thirty-four years old, with the typical Florent brown hair and long face. She had been considered attractive in her youth, but years of marriage — or rather, years of marriage to Stannis Baratheon — had carved lines of exhaustion into her features.
Right now, that face was filled with worry. Even fear.
She knew the truth about the child in her belly.
Nine months ago, when Stannis had gone to King's Landing for a small council meeting… that night… Kalisto. That young Summer Islander bed-slave with dark skin and a powerful body… the wine… the loneliness… years of being neglected… and those surprisingly gentle hands that didn't feel like a slave's at all…
One mistake. One fatal mistake.
Selyse had originally thought it was just a brief moment of weakness. Stannis would never know. She had even planned to drink moon tea as soon as her moon blood was late.
In the Seven Kingdoms, it wasn't uncommon for noblewomen to quietly handle unwanted pregnancies — as long as they were discreet.
But fate had played a cruel joke on her.
Stannis returned from King's Landing earlier than expected, and for some reason, he showed an unusual amount of interest in this long-awaited heir.
When she tried to suggest her health was poor and that it might just be a stomach issue, Stannis immediately summoned Maester Cressen.
The diagnosis: pregnant.
At that moment, Selyse's world nearly collapsed. But she forced herself to stay calm, telling herself she still had time. Moon tea. She just needed to drink moon tea and the problem would disappear.
However, she soon discovered that every escape route had been cut off.
Maester Cressen, under the excuse of "protecting the mother and child's health," had removed every supply of moon tea from Dragonstone.
When she secretly sent her handmaid to buy some on the black market, the girl returned empty-handed. All moon tea ingredients in the area had been bought up by Dragonstone's officials.
The port of Dragonstone had grown busy and prosperous. Gray industries had naturally sprung up. If not for Stannis's strong dislike of brothels, they probably would have appeared already. Instead, enterprising owners had created "floating pleasure ships" that sailed between Dragonstone and Tidehead Island.
She had turned to Kalisto. The gentle Summer Islander youth had been terrified but still willing to take risks for her. He tried to steal herbs from the kitchen that were rumored to induce miscarriage, but he was caught immediately.
Selyse still remembered the scene clearly: Kalisto being dragged into the courtyard, bloody and beaten, while Stannis watched with an expressionless face.
The Summer Islander had been flogged. If Selyse hadn't cried and begged, Stannis would have had him executed.
"He tried to poison my child!" Stannis had said coldly. "But since you plead for him, he may live. From today forward, he works in the warehouses as a laborer."
Kalisto was taken away, and Selyse's nightmare had only just begun.
Under the excuse of "protecting her and the child," Stannis replaced all her trusted handmaids.
The new servants were polite but distant. Every request she made was met with "I must ask my lord or the maester first."
She tried throwing tantrums, smashing things, screaming — hoping the new maids would quit or at least make Stannis think she was too unstable to carry the pregnancy safely.
It backfired.
The head handmaid, Loana — the Summer Islander woman Pierce had originally placed with Shireen — had been reassigned by Stannis to "care for" Selyse.
Loana calmly recorded all of Selyse's erratic behavior and reported it to both Stannis and Maester Cressen.
The maester diagnosed her with "possible pregnancy hysteria," prescribed sedatives, and recommended "restricted activity to protect the child."
For three days, Selyse was gently but firmly tied to her bed. She wasn't even allowed to use the privy without assistance. The terror of losing all control nearly broke her.
After that, she stopped fighting.
Her belly grew larger every day. The baby's movements became stronger and more obvious.
She began lying to herself: Maybe… just maybe… there's a tiny chance the child is actually Stannis's? Even though the timing didn't match, medicine sometimes had exceptions, didn't it?
But deep in her heart, she knew the truth.
Every night when she woke from nightmares, she would touch her belly and imagine what the child would look like — dark skin, full lips, curly black hair… nothing like a Baratheon.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.