Nothing Half So Terrifying

Stannis Baratheon Prime Minister of the United Kingdom For Blood and Glory RP see slots & openings

[baratheonshireen-blog]

i still keep my baby teeth // shireen & stannis // september 24th, evening

[baratheonshireen-blog]

In some ways, Shireen found it easier to pretend that things were perfectly normal. The habit had been hammered into her, when she learned that making friends was difficult when people were afraid. She had been a fairly harmless child, quiet and small for the most part of her younger years, but it was the sickness she brought with her, the medical terms her mother had to include in school forms, syrups and crushed pills that made her tongue feel bitter afterwards that pushed them away. So she had to press a smile on her face, pushing herself into groups of children. It had been easier to do as a child, when she sought out the comfort and reassurance from other people, but then her father returned and Shireen realized she did not need anyone else and the friends slowly seemed less appealing as she tried her hardest to make him proud of her. It was like a game, Shireen would do something, anything, just to see if he would notice, foolish things that made her poor mother worried. 

But still, she wanted him, her father, the man she had sprinkled with golden glitter, who had returned home as someone less than what she had hoped though she loved him, stern brow and all. Even now, though the rational part of her head worries, there is a small part of her that is embarrassingly trusting of the obvious lie he tries to sound out, to comfort her in his own way. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” she said finally. Surely there was something she could do, something that would perhaps ease the load off his shoulders, strengthen their bond.

Even thinking about it seemed ridiculous, laughable even, but her guilt at whining and not helping kept the giggles at bay.

A lump grew in her throat at the knowledge that he wasn’t aware of the guard or her careless gallivanting down the streets. She had hoped her mother would had mentioned it, so that she wouldn’t have to try and explain the situation and defend her actions at the same time. “Oh.” Her voice is soft, high with nerves. “I…I was out of paints. And at first, he was with me! But I wanted to walk around so I sent him away.” And then I met Aunt Cersei, but Shireen thought it best to see his reaction to her wandering around first before spilling everything. Her mother had not taken it so well, Shireen had learned from that.

[stannis--baratheon]

The worried wrinkle in the center of her forehead deepened in concern as her large eyes widened. Sometimes he wondered who she looked like. The lines on her face were certainly his, the way her mouth pulled down at the corners. He could see Selyse in her thick brows, how they slanted in almost instinctual anger. He was sure she didn't feel it, her face showed her determination all the same. But her eyes, the innocence there, the trust, he wasn't sure where that came from. 

Sometimes she looked like Renly, when he was young. She would look up at him full of admiration and trust and he could almost think his brother was looking at him again. He wondered if that look would go out of her as it had gone out of him. Maybe one day she would look at him and there would be nothing left but confusion, that empty wonder at what she had ever seen in him.

There was a strand of her hair across her face, stuck together at the end with a smear of blue paint.

Without thinking he raised his hand and gently swept it out of her face. Those wide familiar eyes turned up at him as he tucked it behind her ear. The surprise at his own action snuck up on him and he slowly drew his hand back.

"What else?" He tried to keep his voice kind but worried it twisted it's shape out of unfamiliarity with the tone.

[baratheon-selyse]

i still need your teeth around my organs | stannis & selyse | september 24th

[baratheon-selyse]

The room was dead silent again. Selyse stared at Stannis, still near the window, and found herself wondering how could the man standing before her be the exact same one as the one giving a press conference on the television, talking about the security of the country. Maybe back all those years, in the end Selyse had married an ideal rather than a man, and with time it made her tired. It wasn’t to say she didn’t have any feelings towards her husband, she clearly stood and will stand by his side by anything, but it didn’t stop Selyse from finding herself frustrated and weary after they talk.

[stannis--baratheon]

The truth was he would enjoy seeing her as well. But with his daughter emotions became strange, disconnected and divided. Part of him wanted to spend as much time as he could in her small sequestered world. When she was young he would read her stories, princesses and lost puppies and happy endings, and those had been valuable moments, sealing out everything else but her questions and joy. Now he could sit with her, have her tell him about her day, her work, each of the paintings she had done. He would enjoy that. He truly would. But it seemed all things had double edges these days. Enjoyment never came without a pang of guilt, that there was someplace else he should be, that joy was an indulgence and idle hours even more so.

He nodded silently at his wife’s words.

“I’m sure there’s nothing that needs to be done.” He says sharply at the continued mentioning of the Starks, “We made ourselves clear. She respects us enough to listen to our wishes at least. She’s a responsible girl and she knows that her actions carry consequences.”

He could feel the weigh of her silence behind him. It was familiar enough. So often he felt she wished to say many things to him, often times he suspected they would be filled with frustration and even hatred if she let them. But she never did. 

The silence grated. It always had. All the fury of unspoken words and lost conversations. But then, without the silence there would be the words, and without the words there would be more than silence, an absence where she had stood, and he’s not sure which alternative he fears more.

“I will see her. Tonight. Now.” He says finally, filling the space with his own voice before the silence drowns him.

[stannis--baratheon]

seek to know my stops // stannis & beric // September 28th

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Beric pursed his lips at the sound of the other’s snapping as he locked eyes with the Prime Minister. Clearly this wasn’t going to be an amiable meeting but hardly any meeting with Stannis Baratheon ever was. He decided to indulge him and he recited the words he knew by heart.

The description for his job was particularly long, particularly confusing to any outsider, sometimes it was confusing for Beric himself. He often wondered about its true meaning, even before setting eyes on the Home Office. It was only until now, now with the Brotherhood having been created, that he understood.

And at the same time the answer was quite simple, “National security", he said in the same tone that the other had stated the question, “All internal affairs concerning the United Kingdom", he continued. “To maintain the survival of the state through the use of economic power, diplomacy, power projection and political power". Beric sighed. Responsible for counter-terrorism and homeland security. He thought, but left unsaid. For Olympic security. He almost smirked sourly at the thought. 

To ensure the stability of the country through the rally of their allies. Beric had very questionably allies nowadays. He realised as he listed the answer he had studied for years that in more than a way, he had restlessly continued being the Home Secretary even when he was now the leader of the Anonymous Brotherhood. “To implement civil defence and armed forces to defeat our enemies and protect the people and the nation from internal threats."

I’m doing that. He told himself, he reassured himself. The threat is you, your government and everyone following its steps. The threat is the hands running this country and I’m defeating the threat. He laid back on his seat.

"I’m doing that", he said aloud in the same tone before sharpening it with feign exasperation, “but I can’t do it with everyone messing around my own buildings, with Cersei Lannister bursting into Thames House whenever she pleases and her father buying his seat back on the House of Lords", he swallowed and kept eye contact with the other, Stannis had complained before about the lack of results, over the case on the Stadium, over the mob that killed his brother and more recently over the killings happening around the country. Beric assumed this meeting was taking the same path yet again and he decided to get ahead for once.

"Put anyone else on my position and I assure you that you’ll get even worse results, somehow I am keeping this ship afloat but I need some support here… sir", Beric paused, “I need your trust to do this. Completely.". He had to wonder if this new approach could work. He didn’t trust Stannis, he didn’t trust anyone in this place, even if he could win him over, it would still be a wild card. But it didn’t hurt to try, to lie some more. “National security means the security of the country… that means that the two of us are in this together now more than ever".

[stannis--baratheon]

The man sat there simply answering the question as if he were some child in his GCSEs. Everything about him suggested a bored school boy, the slight presumptuous tilt to his posture, the small smirk that he swore tried to sneak into the corners of his mouth. Stannis found his hands tightening sharply against the flesh of his own arm in the face of the man's insipid arrogance. He seemed stressed, concerned even, but not threatened, not fearful. What gave him the right to have such a sense of infallibility in the wake of such chaos, where each individual's ends seemed to lurk in the shadows of the more familiar corners?

He waited for him to finish, waited for him to run through his quaint list of responsibilities and expectations and lay out a frankly gutless excuse for his behavior before he even started to speak.

Stannis allowed the silence hang in the air around them for several heavy moments while he let the vague disregard of his Home Secretary's words fully sink in before locking his cold blue stare on the man's young face.

"Startling as this seem, a basic recital of your position's reach and assumed areas of responsibility fails to inspire the confidence you might imagine, Mr. Dondarrion. In fact it seems to me that those responsibilities are little more to you than a dully memorized list. They are certainly not proven with action by any stretch of the imagination."

Stannis can feel his teeth gritting hard against his jaw already.

"Even a blind man can throw a stone and knock down a target when he's surrounded by them on all sides, a feat you seem incapable of mastering. If you cannot even stop Cersei Lannister from having her own way with internal security I'm not surprised at the lack of results. Perhaps I should ask her to assume your responsibilities if she is so capable of seeking an end and producing the means."

He crosses his arms tighter across his chest, trying to keep his voice level.

"You ask me to trust you, Mr. Dondarrion, you say no one could have done better. If you think that vague promises and a fair helping of school boy charm will let you slide past reprehension in this administration I fear you've mistaken me for one of my brothers. Trust needs foundations. I see none."

Stannis straightens his posture, eyes never leaving Dondarrion's strained arrogant face.

"If you do not demonstrate your competence in the form of tangible results within the next five minutes, you will leave this room without that weary list of responsibilities following you."

[baratheonshireen-blog]

i still keep my baby teeth // shireen & stannis // september 24th, evening

[baratheonshireen-blog]

Maybe one day she would feel comfortable enough to talk to him about her worries without feeling like she was being a nuisance but for now she was content with bothering her mother about security. It was a bit silly, how little she cared for her own safety (sending away guards was not an option anymore, but she still tried for that little taste of freedom) but constantly fretted about her father. He probably doesn’t know about the guards either. It shouldn’t be selfish of her, then, to demand his time, surely? 

(But she never really felt comfortable with demanding anything from her father. Shireen always made sure he looked relatively unoccupied before approaching him. Relatively unoccupied normally meant without company, because he was always busy, just less so at times.)

It would seem out of place for her to ask him about everything, about the terrorists, about the killings, because she knew so little of it and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know more. “I know." She wants to say something, something that would make her sound more mature. But all that runs through her mind is that her father is Superman and that he will catch those bad people eventually. He must. “Things will settle down eventually though." She means it as a statement, though Shireen knows it comes out as a slight question as well. She needs him to reassure her that yes, everything will be alright in time, even if it was a lie.

His promise, if she could take it that way, makes her smile, wide and pleased. Shireen learned to never really take promises seriously, but her father tried his hardest to keep them, she knew that and she couldn’t hold him responsible for his job. 

"You’re right," Of course, but she leaves that part out. “Carpet doesn’t sleep on my bed though and he’s mostly outside." I was just feeling lonely and sick today, but she leaves that out as well. “Did mother tell you about the guard she had to fire?" She hoped that her mother did, because it would have given her father some time to stew over the fact that she had been roaming around, by her lonesome, for at least an hour. He probably shouldn’t be too angry if he knew, especially since she’s been on her best behavior since. 

[stannis--baratheon]

She seemed troubled, the worry written in those small lines of her face that he thought must resemble his own. She'd had them younger than most children, a small concerned wrinkle between her eyebrows that she must not be aware of but had been with her since she was four or five. He remembered Robert teasing him when he was about that age for looking so stern always. He'd stood in front of their bathroom mirror, kneeling on a stool he'd pulled in after him to properly evaluate. He'd had that same small line between his brows, and now hundreds of other's had joined it. 

Settle down... eventually... Simple concepts. Cliche. Easy to digest and effortless to consider. He frowns, unable to answer her with the ease of a lie. He wishes he could. He wishes he could be as confident as so many seemed to be with such broad overarching statements: "everything will be alright in the end", "I'm sure things will sort themselves out", but the truth of it was people could only say such stupid things because men like himself stood behind them and made sure it was so.

"We have much work to do," He said finally, trying to smile but hardly finding success, "We're doing everything we can to make sure things get better."

The matter with the dog is perhaps best left alone. She had so few pleasures here, he knew, and with the latest event she was alone more often than not.

A guard, he'd heard something of someone leaving but he had not known...

"She did not. Tell me what happened?" He tries not to let the stone into his voice but there's not much he can do to prevent it.

[baratheon-selyse]

i still need your teeth around my organs | stannis & selyse | september 24th

[baratheon-selyse]

She had seen Dondarrion once or twice at No. 10, thought they never talked more than short and few greetings. “He might do better if he stops moping around the corners and looking like a zombie.” It had been Dondarrion’s job to find out who had bombed the Olympic stadium back in July, but as far as Selyse knew there had been no results there. How could he ever continue working day to day without knowing or even looking deeper for the terrorists who killed thousands of people, she had no idea.

“Of course you should. She’s your daughter.” She looked at him again, chin held up high. “You don’t need to ask my permission.” One way or another, Stannis had always kept a certain distance from Shireen. Not because he didn’t love her, Selyse would never think such a thing, but maybe it had to do with her heart failure and how small Shireen was. Maybe back then he was frightened of what might happen if Shireen started to feel ill and he wasn’t sure what do to, but now their daughter was practically a grown woman, who knew more than well how to handle and live with the way she was.

Selyse’s thought was to talk about how Shireen’s paintings had improved in the last weeks, but she wasn’t sure Stannis had even taken the time to notice. Besides, there was another subject related to that, one that the two of them hadn’t discussed at all but she knew it would have to happen one day. “Have you talked to her about the Stark boys?” Not only that Shireen had told her about her friendship with the two youngest Starks was obvious, but the fact that Shireen had talked to Selyse about Stannis reaction to that shouldn’t be a surprise for him. If he thought their daughter would ever keep such a thing as a secret, he ought to pay more attention to Shireen’s habits.

[stannis--baratheon]

He needed no reminders of Dondarrion's incompetence. But his time would come soon enough. Failure was simply not an option and the man's vagrant disregard for common procedure and his apparent flippancy with the circumstances had long since begun to grate. 

Of course he didn't need her permission to see their daughter, but somehow it was easier to act with it. Despite what he might wish to think, he'd never been truly capable of acting without some sense of approval from someone he respected. Sometimes he wondered if that meant he lacked a certain respect for himself... but why would that be? Wasteful thought, useless.

"You know her better than I."

He lets the words out without considering them fully, but it's too late now. It's the truth anyways. Each year he understands her less and less. Maybe five years from now she'll truly be a stranger to him. The thought only amplifies at the mention of the Starks.

"No, I have not," He says through his teeth, "But I believe we made ourselves clear on that matter."

He should hope so. The idea of her ignoring them, or being forced to reprimand her yet again was a thought too distracting to give much hold to.

[stannis--baratheon]

seek to know my stops // stannis & beric // September 28th

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Beric had barely any time to do anything but dealing with the most recent events happening around the Kingdom. First the killings - those which he himself had helped the killers perform. Killings that he partially wished would have been overshadowed by the sudden death of the acting Prime Minister of Scotland. But to his fortune, and to his mission’s benefit, they hadn’t. Everything just accumulated and the country was threatening to rise into a whole new level of panic.

Of course all the people that had died had a strong name supporting them and there were those like the Anonymous Brotherhood, who rejoiced in the news that the titans weren’t so big anymore and they could also be crushed. There was the other side, of course, of that working class worried that if those with money and protection could be killed, if someone like Eddard Stark could be killed, then how could the rest of the country live at peace.

If Beric could be entirely free to speak to the nation, he would say that they deserved it and that they put themselves in a position that called for judgement and that the trial dictated execution. They were the ones abusing power, there looked for a reason to be killed and those who were innocent should not worry.

But in the meantime and as long as he had to play the part of the Home Secretary tied up to the legal concern of everyone, he couldn’t but do - his legal obligation and be the minister he was supposed to be and that required his full attention these days. It wasn’t hard to achieve, he was laying low from the Brotherhood’s business after all, something he truly regretted. 

He rolled his eyes when his secretary opened the door to say that the Prime Minister had called (yet again). Usually he was the one who had to arrange meetings with Stannis Baratheon, but the leader of the country was now - surely - fed up with the lack of results from the Home Office. Half of the precarious events that the country had gone through indirectly involved him or his allies in more than one way, and half of them had little to no explanation and always led him to a dead end. He was trying to focus on getting the late Prime Minister’s killers under jail, but he knew that wasn’t what concerned both his brother and the people; it would help but catching those responsible for the attack to the Stadium would mean much more - that was of course, something he couldn’t do.

There was something else that Baratheon could be interested in - besides the fact that Beric had found a relative of his, but he wasn’t ready to approach the subject, soon enough, however, soon he would have to. For now he had to play other cards and Scotland could be very well what he needed. 

He was at Number 10 in less than half an hour, although he did took his time to get there. When once he considered manners and cordiality essential and he still did, now he was quite annoyed by everyone living in this place and he had little to no sleep in the past three days, he was, without a doubt, irritated. 

He paid no mind to Barathen’s group of assistants and went directly to his door, sighing at himself and delivering some of his fading patience by having the courtesy of knocking and before opening the door after the permission. “You wanted to see me”, he said plainly, and invited himself to the chair in front of the desk. 

[stannis--baratheon]

The man looked like hell. At least there was that.

It gave Stannis a strange sense of satisfaction to see the dark shadows under his eyes, the noticeable sag to his posture, the way his clothing was slightly untidy. If he had come to him perfect, pristine, a smiling like some diplomatic farce he might have destroyed him on the spot. This made it easier to temper himself. Slightly. Very slightly.

Stannis didn't sit, standing straight behind his desk. "Yes," he noted not without a small amount of distain that he took a seat without permission, but that was just as well, looking down at him seated there seemed quite appropriate.

"Remind me, Mr. Dondarrion," Stannis said shortly, "What are the responsibilities of the Home Secretary?"

[baratheonshireen-blog]

i still keep my baby teeth // shireen & stannis // september 24th, evening

[baratheonshireen-blog]

Shireen nods, just once, to show him that she understands that things are fine. The constant fear that something bad was going to happen, something that would take her father away from her forever never really went away. It seemed too silly to talk to her parents about it; her mother would probably try to console her and whisper about how her father had the best men protecting him. She didn’t even want to think of how her father would react. Maybe he would be flattered that she even cared, but he must know that she does. If anything, Shireen suspects he would think it a weakness, her feeling fear, worrying unnecessarily. 

She doesn’t really want to find out.

“Yes, I noticed.” she said softly, unable to keep the disappointment out of her tone. A small part of her had hoped that once they moved to No.10, that things would be different. There was no excuse for his absence, not when he had his office in the same house. She kept her thoughts to herself, since it didn’t seem proper to lecture her father about time management. She would have a talk with her mother about it, but Shireen knows he was only here because her mother said something about her frown and constant silence and short answers during lunch. If he wanted to have a meal with her, he would have made time. “It’s alright, you were busy.” I understand, she wanted to say, but that would be lying. 

She didn’t understand and she didn’t want to understand. Shireen was content with staring at his empty seat whenever he failed to show for a meal. She endured her fears in silence, because he did what he needed to do for the country and he didn’t need unnecessary stress coming from her as well. “Dad, Carpet is a very nice dog. He understands me.” She instinctively falls back onto a more familiar title, face set in a small pout. “I wasn’t coughing that loud, was I? Oh God, did anyone else here it? Was I bothering someone?” 

[stannis--baratheon]

Her concern was easy enough to read. She could never look at him quite right when she was worried. Stannis frowned, was she afraid? Did she not feel safe here? He remembered the thick horror that had sunk into his gut when he'd heard of the riots, remembered how before he had even thought he'd pulled his phone free and insisted, demanded on her security. Later he wondered if he should feel guilt for that action, Robert dead in the street with the boy and all he could think was after his own child. Perhaps that was selfish. But it was past, and not worth considering further.

"Yes, it's a difficult time, I know you understand that," Stannis said, even if she hadn't, "Many people are in need of my time and attention."

But that sounded strange, as if they were more valuable than her. They were more pressing, more important to the moment, but important did not mean valuable to his mind. Not that she would understand if he said so. She was still angry in the soft silent frustrated way of hers, that much was apparent.

"I will try harder," He finds himself saying without quite meaning to.

He winces at the dog's name, absurd enough to match the creature. Abhorrent wasn't it? What humanity did with evolution sometimes... but she relaxed and almost smiled and he couldn't help softening to her.

"I'm glad he makes you happy, just please, try not to handle him quite so much. And you're not a bother. Far from it."

[baratheon-selyse]

i still need your teeth around my organs | stannis & selyse | september 24th

[baratheon-selyse]

He didn’t even bother replying, but it was far from being the first time. She pushed the subject forward. “Is there anything else you or the Scotland Yard can do about it?” She wasn’t Melisandre to come up with political strategies and carefully laid out plans, but still, Selyse knew she could speak and Stannis would at least listen, whether he liked it or not.

“I know that. But don’t forget you have a duty to your family too.” Funny thing how that went, how a man who was so worried with duty, law and justice seemed to like to forget about the duties expect of him in his personal life and to those who surrounded him. It was almost funny too, how Selyse knew exactly the type of man Stannis was even before he asked to marry her, but once upon a time she thought maybe he would change, maybe he wouldn’t continue so stern when it came to his family. Obviously she was wrong.

Throughout the years he had made countless acts of sacrifice, for the country and its people, and more it seemed like his family was always the one to pay the price. You’re not the only one making sacrifices, she thought, but this time kept it to herself.

“She went to rest after lunch, but by now I assume she’s playing with the wretched dog my brother bought her.” Selyse still couldn’t believe Erren had been so stupid to buy Shireen a dog without bothering to consider if it would be a good idea or not – and without consulting her first, which was what made the whole thing even worst. In the end Shireen got to attached to the ball of fur that there was no way to even return the thing, so the way was to get used to it.

[stannis--baratheon]

"We will do whatever we can, that should go without saying," Stannis snapped without meaning to, feeling the regret instantly snake around his throat as he turned back towards the window.

"Dondarrion has been useless. I'll have to speak with him." He tries, to soften the blow.

Of course he had a duty to his family, but how could she not see now minuscule that seemed, how selfish it was the place that first? He didn't belong to her. He belonged to the desk behind him. She didn't understand that, and he didn't try to make her. The nation had to come first, above all such petty considerations. After all, it was all connected. Did she want him to miss something, to slip, and risk everything, including their very security? No, of course not, and he knew that. He had to remind himself often enough that people could only see as far as their worlds allowed them to.

But there were things that mattered. Things that had to matter.

"Perhaps I'll go see her," Stannis said, resting his knuckles on the frame of the window.

He turned back to Selyse, he could see the frustration tight in her shoulders, the thin strained line of her lips. He might have stepped closer to her if he was another man, but was not, so he stayed feet away that felt as miles.

"If... do you think that would be alright?"

[stannis--baratheon]

// Thread Slots //

I'm keeping six slots open for threads, realistically its how many I can do each week right now, so thanks for understanding. I keep three for Stannis, two for Roose and one for Sandor, I might have some wiggle room but this is my best attempt to keep sane with everything.

STANNIS: [FILLED] Beric - seek to know my stops

STANNIS: [FILLED] Renly - [ in progress ]

STANNIS: [FILLED] Shireen - i still keep my baby teeth

ROOSE: [FILLED] Barbrey - bend and break

ROOSE: [FILLED] Ramsey - the murderers, steep'd in the colours of their trade

ROOSE: [FILLED] Brynden - conversation

SANDOR: [soon to be filled] sansa

Queue...

Stannis:

Cersei [flashback]

Brynden

Maergery

Devan

Roose:

Robb

[baratheonshireen-blog]

i still keep my baby teeth // shireen & stannis // september 24th, evening

It had been difficult, mustering enough strength to raise her head from her pillow when the old purple alarm clock rang at seven in the morning. It was warm under her covers, besides the cold, wet nose that nudged against her calf. That nose belonged to a tiny lump wiggling under her blanket and unconsciously, a small smile had found it’s way to her face. Despite feeling rather under the weather for the past few days, Shireen couldn’t deny that the presence of her small dog helped to elevate her moods more often than not. There had been the brief concern of whether or not keeping a pet would be good for her, or if it would just worsen her health, but Shireen had closed all sort of conversation when she hugged the animal closer to her side and frowned at whoever suggested to throw it out. 

Carpet had been a name given mostly as a joke, after she found her mother muttering something about turning her pet into a floor rug.

Still, school was out of the picture for her today, so Shireen sought out the comforts of her new makeshift studio, the small puppy trailing after her steps. Leaving only for lunch and a brief tea with some cocoa and biscuits, the staff knew not to bother her when she was in the room. It wasn’t much, just an empty room with canvases and paint tins to one side and a desk with some half-arsed sketches shoved in drawers. Still, it was something, and it was definitely better than painting in the same room that she slept in. A small part of her missed the coziness of her old room, the white door with purple flowers and crayon drawings at the bottom. The black lines drawn by her mother to mark her growth and age. 

Inhaling sharply, she pushed all thoughts of her old room and the memories that it brought and continued flicking her brush at the canvas idly, hoping something would take shape, something that could pass off as art. Coughing once, twice, she rubbed the side of her head with a clean hand (or at least, it had been clean five minutes ago) and tilted her head to the side. The painting still looked like a bunch of squiggles, though it looked rather pretty just like that. A knock, followed by the adorable growling that Carpet tried to form, startled her out of her thoughts and Shireen turned her head slightly as the door squeaked open, recognizing the tall figure without really having to look. 

It had been a while since she had a proper talk with her father, alone, without her mother. Not that Shireen didn’t appreciate a little family time,b ut sometimes she just wanted to talk to her father, even if she didn’t have much to say, more worried that she might sound stupid or frustrate him in some way. Carpet let out a soft whine and moved forward carefully, sniffing at his direction. “Daddy!” She couldn’t stop her grin or the way she dropped the brush in her hand to do a small run towards him before pausing, glancing down at her dirty old top. “I’m dirty.” she said softly, in explanation. If she wasn’t too worried about getting his suit marked with paint, Shireen might have been brave enough to give him a hug. “Is something wrong?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

[stannis--baratheon]

He'd started to smell the paint halfway down the hall, and it made him frown for a moment. He'd wanted ventilation installed weeks ago to ensure the fumes did nothing to further jeopardize her health. Of course she had to be the most drawn to things that presented risk to her condition: the painting, that absurd little dog. Starks, he thinks but he pushes that aside. There's no use getting frustrated now, not when he came to see her, just her, not all the hazards lurking in the shadows. 

He knocks once. There's an absurd sound behind the door that, something like a mouse being trodden on in small spurts. Cautiously he gives the door a small push to look inside. She turns to him instantly and he cannot help the gentle warmth that pushes against his chest in the face of her wide blue eyes open with surprise, her smile broad and genuine. There's a bit of paint on one of her large ears and in her hair, he thinks she might have been putting the brush behind it without thinking again.

The absurd animal on the floor lets out another ineffectual noise and approaches him steadily. He frowns at it in an attempt to discourage further efforts on it's part. It seems to work, the thing flopping back on it's hindquarters to evaluate him from afar, but Shireen is already crossing the floor and he pays it no more mind.

For a moment he thinks she might try to hug him and he half wishes she would but she steps back. Just as well. He's never felt quite right touching other people. Strange how it came so naturally to some...

"No," He says quickly, that strange guilty feeling forming in his chest again. She would assume there must be something wrong, why else would he come to see her...

"I wasn't at lunch," He says as if it's an explanation. There's an apology on the back of his tongue but it doesn't make itself known, "I wanted to see you."

And then he remembers, face growing stern; "I heard you coughing down the hall, are you alright? I've told you, you shouldn't handle that thing so much," He eyes the dog again before turning his attentions to her clothing to try and see how much hair is stuck to it.

[baratheon-selyse]

i still need your teeth around my organs | stannis & selyse | september 24th

[baratheon-selyse]

He took the remote control from the desk and turned off the tv, the screen turned black and the silence felt too uncomfortable. Stannis moved to the window, gazing outside for whatever caught his eye, but Selyse remained sat in the sofa. “And who said they aren’t themselves be known? Putting coins in each murder to prove they’re all linked seems quite the statement to me.” Killing people related to the biggest families in the country seemed quite the statement too, thought she didn’t expect whoever planned and carried out those deaths to release a public announcement with who they were and what they planned to do.

She had noticed before how Stannis hadn’t in any way replied to what she said while he entered the room. “When I say you did well today, I mean it. The country needs someone strong to lead it, and you showed that today.” Ever since Stannis had become Prime Minister he had a difficult time admitting he was the person most fit for it, and if anything he needed to embrace that role. When he’d told her and Shireen that he would be entering the leadership contest in June, Selyse had been happy for him the same way she had been happy when he called her to announce he would become Prime Minister. Though the way he had become Prime Minister wasn’t one anyone imagined, Selyse had learned to accept that it didn’t matter, that it was a sign from God that Stannis was the one to lead the nation, though it seemed he was the only one who didn’t acknowledge that.

“You weren’t at lunch with me and Shireen.” When they lived at Knightsbridge, Stannis rarely made an appearance at dinner, let alone at lunch, but now that he worked and lived under the same roof, that was expected to happen. “Shireen noticed,” she said in a lower tone. Their daughter had always been avid to spend time with Stannis, no matter how little it was and one of the few things that gave her joy in the first month they’ve had been at Downing Street was seeing her father more often, though it seemed now like Stannis would return to the old habits. She cleared her throat before speaking again, “did you eat anything?”

[stannis--baratheon]

She tried to encourage, she always did, and perhaps it worked. He couldn't really tell any longer. The praise seemed to drift through him, after all, it was only that, words and wind. But he truly couldn't say. Maybe if there was one day when she wasn't there to reassure and support and do all those things she did so tirelessly then he would feel a loss. But that was merely a distant wondering  far from him now, so his wife's words wafted around him as they always did. Cool and present but hardly ground shifting.

"I know." He answered when she noted his absence. He did not need to be reminded of that fact. It was not that he had forgotten or simply ignored the time, he'd recognized it, even considered it, but with the days as they were, the nation in chaos, it wasn't exactly the most obliging of circumstances.

"This country is on the edge of a knife, I cannot afford to push that aside for my--" Family is the word that drifted past his mind but he doesn't use it, "Comfort."

He turned back to face her at the mention of their daughter, nodding shortly at the inquiry that followed it.

"Did she?" Of course she did. She always noticed, and it should not bother him as much as it did. She should understand. He knew that, but still, as always where she was concerned, he was left with a weight against his chest that made him feel as if he was somehow guilty of something just beyond his grasp. 

"Where is she now?" He found himself asking.

[stannis--baratheon]

seek to know my stops // stannis & beric // September 28th

Stannis Baratheon walked inside, shaking his coat to try and dislodge the clinging chill the heavy mist behind him had placed there. He hadn't truly needed to go out, but the walls of Number 10 had felt closer and closer each day, as if the paint was reproducing of it's own volition and sealing them tighter between it's walls. So, he'd made a habit of stepping out at least once in the morning, and usually there were more than enough meetings to accommodate this habit, especially in the light of recent events.

The steely sound of the door shut behind him and left only the clicking of heels and shiny shoes over the black and white marble of the floor. Stannis spared a glance for the guard as the man nodded to him and sat back in the tall leather seat that marked his post.

Stannis had always hated that chair. It was still designed for outdoor use even though it had been years since it sat there, and the weather hood on top was useless and absurd to his eyes. If it were up to him it would be removed and the chair adjusted for it's new location, but likely he would have ten ministers on the phone within the hour and twice as many news vans outside calling him out for 'destroying tradition'.

And wasn't that just the quitesential embodiment of government work? Something is useless: remove it, and the nation riots. Something is ineffectual: improve it, and the ministers panic.

Stannis sniffed and headed quickly up the stairs before his frustration grew further. It was already bad enough that he'd needed a third cup of tea and he knew it would only get worse shortly.

His receptionist reached for his coat as he entered his outer office but he shrugged it off quickly, glaring at her until she backed away. She was still adjusting to his presence, they all were, steadily (well, to be honest, quite abruptly) realizing that he was far from the man his brother was and not to be treated as something similar. She'd looked on the verge of tears for weeks now, glancing down at the floor when he asked her questions, trying to smile too often. If she kept it up through this week he'd be forced to make a change.

"Is he here?" Stannis asks her.

She shook her head, looking down, again, "Not just yet, but I'm sure--"

Stannis blew past towards his office. Not here, of course. Well, that just made it easier didn't it? 

Once inside his office he shut the door and hung up his coat, moving to the window to glance out at the street and see if he could recognize a car. It was grey and thick beyond the glass, the fog heavy and chilled over Downing Street.

Part of his mind tried to break down the imminent conversation laid out before him, tried to list all his grievances, his irritations, his more than reasonable causes for vast disappointment and his numerous qualms. But each time he tried the anger flared and he swallowed it back. Best to simply let it come, perhaps.

Instead, his glaze drifted to the sidewalk below, and suddenly Ned Stark came to mind. He could almost see him down there, step in step with Robert, Ned with arms crossed calmly behind his back, Robert gesturing widely and wildly all around while Stannis followed them in silence a few steps behind. Robert had always laughed the most when Ned was beside him, as if he thought he could shed some of his joy into Stark's usually grim expression. Funny, how it was never the same with him. He'd always seemed spiteful of Stannis' reserve yet thrilled by Ned's, as if the challenge of Ned's smile was a joy while Stannis' attitude merely left a bad taste in his mouth.

Stannis wondered sometimes if that was because he reminded Robert of their father. Perhaps the semblance grieved him. Their father had never been quick to smile, not unless their mother was near.

It didn't matter. They were all the same now. Dust and bones. All blackened and buried.

A sharp knock rapped at the door and Stannis startled at the window, turning sharply.

He cleared his throat once, pushing the memories aside.

"Enter."

[stannis--baratheon]

Phone Call -> Stannis/Beric, September 25th 7:32PM

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Beric pursed his lips and rolled his eyes and it was too hard not to sigh or even laugh. In any case, he couldn’t deny that his words had been a mistake, he said that out of impulse, something he should have controlled, Forgive me, he said quickly, I spoke out of shock. He tried to picture Arya’s reaction and he couldn’t.

It occurred to him that this news were good news for more than one, himself included. It would weaken England too, and Stannis’ government in particular, the people would make the same assumption he just did.

However we can’t deny that plenty will assume the same, he was our enemy, declared traitor and he is dead? Even if it was an accident… there will be those who accuse you, he put an emphasis in you, as if to force me to dwell in that - you who broke the nation apart, you who threatened the son. Perhaps this is exactly what Scotland wanted, now they won’t hold back.

He could already see it, the people didn’t need much proof, they only needed words inflicted with passion and the Young Wolf only needed to make his decision.

In any case, it will weaken at least one side and if he’s lucky enough, both sides would crumble. We must be prepared. Shall I call for an emergency meeting?

[stannis--baratheon]

The apology came fast enough but still Stannis was not sure he believed it. There was always something infuriatingly smug about the man's tone, and at the same time something about him seemed unhinged, like a well made suit with a hidden stich coming apart under the arm, unseen by observing eyes.

It put Stannis on edge. It always did, causing his foot to tap anxiously against the floor and his fingers to flex on the desktop. He only grunts as a reply to the withdrawn statement.

This country may think many things of me, but I should hope I do not seem quite so callous. Even as the words escape him he sees their fault. Callous and rigid were often synonymous in the eyes of the public, one fault or sin easily interchangeable with a multitude of others. Scotland adopted the Starks as their own personal embodiment - I doubt very much this is what they wanted.

But a martyr is a martyr he knows that well enough. And a the face of a nation is often times far from the sum of it's parts.

Yes. Call the meeting and I want Intelligence at the table. The more light they can shed on this 'accident' the better.

[stannis--baratheon]

Phone Call -> Stannis/Beric, September 25th 7:32PM

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Beric frowned - it wasn’t from lack of understatement, it wasn’t shock either, he received the news about Robert before, he was prepared for this kind of phonecalls and yet he couldn’t avoid foolishly repeating the words the other had said.

Eddard Stark?.

And the past few weeks flashed under the weight of theories. He ruled out an accident almost as immediately as Stannis said it. It was too good for too many people. And such a massive piece on the board wouldn’t fall without the help of someone else pushing and pushing hard. Was it them? We need a pass to Scotland, he had said. And Beric had granted it. Who else would want to kill him there so close to his home?.

He thought of Arya for a second and then blinked. Was it?, he said in a sharper tone than the one intended, an accident? Or did our government have anything to do?, your government, he refrained from saying. He was already recklessly implying the obvious, accusing him to his face but before he could think twice about it, he had already asked.

[stannis--baratheon]

Stannis knew he was holding the phone too tightly but that didn't make him stop. There was a tight lead ball of anger forming in chest that he was having a hard time swallowing down. At least he could call it anger. In reality he recognized it was likely something else, but anger was easier. And frustration was even more familiar.

The fool was repeating himself, as if he didn't understand.

The accusation snapped sharper than he'd thought the man was capable of and it took Stannis a moment to push the insult from his eyes, gritting his teeth harder against his words.

This government is not in the business of assassination, Mr. Dondarrion, traitor or no, a fact I am frankly shocked you need to be reminded of. And if you perceive me to be the manner of man who would hide behind such a pretense rather than making my means and ends known perhaps you need to find yourself a new position with someone who's nature is more clear to you.

[stannis--baratheon]

Phone Call -> Stannis/Beric, September 25th 7:32PM

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Beric took the stack of papers from one of his secretaries and sighed for the dozen time in the day. It had been an uneventful day compared to what had happened before - and compared to his usual standards, and though he welcomed the peace, he found himself in a state of anxiousness. He supposed a psychiatrist would label this as a form of syndrome in which he’s too attached to a condition of mayhem.

He thought it would be fun to test out the symptoms one day.

He heard the door opening and looked around to see his secretary back. ‘The Prime Minister is on the line’. She said and Beric frowned. Baratheon didn’t do much calls, he preferred the proximity so that his yelling could resonate against the others’ ears with the most ferocity. 

‘Thanks’. He muttered back and headed to the desk there back in Thames House, dealing with the series of killings he had to pretend he didn’t have a clue about. He let the other have the first word and he thought he hadn’t heard that tone of scepticism in the Prime Minister in over a month. A rush of worry overcame him and he put the tack of papers on the desk, focusing his attention on the phone call.

No. He forgot his manners in his curiosity. He could mean so many things nowadays. What is it?

[stannis--baratheon]

He hadn't heard. Stannis ground his teeth quickly, yet another addition to the man's incompetence, but perhaps he's not as strongly to blame in this instance. 

Eddard's dead.

It fell out crisp and sharp.

He hadn't meant to say his first name, and now that he did it sounded strange. Eddard hadn't been the traitor who ripped his nation apart at the seams for the sake of personal comfort and vagrant romantic ideals. Eddard had been a soft eyed young boy who asked Robert to stop after six drinks and supported his weight when he didn't listen.

Stark--

He corrected, even though it's too late. The mental image lingers with taunting distain for his purpose.

An accident, they say, car crash. They've only just started clearing the scene.

[stannis--baratheon]

Phone Call -> Stannis/Beric, September 25th 7:32PM

He stared at the phone longer than he should have. He knew that. It should have been instant, it was why he was standing behind the heavy wooden desk after all, looking down at skattered papers, messages, and other folded pale shadows of a nation's unwieldy life. 

It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds, likely even less, but the space spanned out before him, his hand holding his phone, the numbers ready, standing at attention. 

His COS has entered hardly two minutes hence, his usual hardened look filled with a strange expression, something caught between confusion and stoicism. He usually fiddled with his cuff in a vexing manner when addressing his Prime Minister, but not today. Today he had been quite still.

An accident... yes we are sure... the papers... only a matter of time...

He knew his head should be full or something, hatred, gratitude, remembrance, a trace of some form of reaction to those words. But there's nothing. Perhaps that's why he waited as long as he felt he had. Something ought to fill the space, a trace of the man, but there's nothing but a fading image of an easy younger smile looking back over Robert's wide shoulder to nod in his direction, grey eyes vague through a misty dawn.

Stannis hit send.

It hardly rang once.

Dondarrion, you've heard?

[baratheon-selyse]

i still need your teeth around my organs | stannis & selyse | september 24th

(Somehow she felt closer to him watching the press conference on the television than sleeping by his side every night like they have for the last twenty years).

The door opened without a knock, thought Selyse didn’t bother looking or asking who it was; she didn’t need to turn her head to know who was there. “You did well today.”

[stannis--baratheon]

She kept her gaze to the elevated screen on the wall rather than look to him, he noted, not that it mattered. He snatched the remote off the desk and switched the bloody thing off all the same. He’d never quite grown accustomed to the sound of his own voice, through all these years, even less so the look of his face as he spoke to the press, to the people.  It was always too easy to see where his eyes followed the teleprompter, hear his voice catch on the few sentences his staff had convinced him to adjust in the briefings.

“You did well” She’d said, as if he’d done anything. 

It was words merely, promises without actions. He’d had enough of words. Result were what mattered. Results were the only thing that would keep this nation from tearing apart at the seams. There were infinite means to be put towards seemingly surmounting calamities and no ends to be found in either. Dondarrion continued to fumble, the nation continued to sour, and Starks maintained their treachery. Words would not change that it seemed, and yet, as he had to accept, they were necessary.

“If they are so proud of their actions why not let themselves be know,” He said, stepping towards the window with his hands cross tightly over his chest.

Outside the mist hung thick and cold over the grey shapes of the city. Winter was ushering itself in without permission, doing as it pleased and all who suffered it seemed to take that as inspiration.

“They mark their work and seem to find it justified and yet we hear nothing from them.” He could feel his teeth grinding down against the words, “Burned bodies and dragon markers, is this some game for them?”