A Vow Without Honor

The Pawns

Myra

They had waited for the Great Hall to clear. Given that Stannis was not prone to excessive bouts of gossip, the wait was not long. Men and women alike declared themselves to be at the service of the one true king and departed with little more than a nod in return. His brother might have made for a terrible ruler, but even Robert had the decency to accept loyalty warmly and with thanks. Stannis was all military bearing and little else.

The thought of the now dead king gave Myra pause as she waited. For all his faults, and there certainly was no shortage of them, Robert Baratheon did not deserve the end that was implied by the letter. And yet, the fact that he was gone made the memory of him slightly easier to bear. She did not want to know what that said about her.

Jory was fidgeting beside her. He'd never been an overly anxious man under the service of her father, but dark times and unwelcome surroundings did a lot of things to people. It seemed they were both eager to be rid of the place.

At last, the crowd parted, lords and ladies trickling away into distant halls of the keep, save for a handful. They looked on with curious eyes, wondering what the rightful king and the daughter of a supposed traitor could even speak about.

The taste of bile rose in her throat.

Stannis Baratheon was seated on his throne, the crown securely on his head, with the red woman standing on his right. To his left was Ser Davos, watching with sympathy only a father could possess. Certainly not all fathers, though. After all, Stannis had a child, but he was made of solid stone.

Myra cleared her throat, the anger she once possessed having cooled during her wait. "My Lord, I-"

"His Grace is the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, child," the woman interrupted with an air of superiority that felt right at home in King's Landing. "You will address him properly."

"An honest mistake, Lady Melisandre," Davos replied on her behalf, giving the woman a none too kind glance.

A foreign name to go with her foreign accent. She had heard of the red priests from across the sea. Thoros of Myr, who had competed in the tourney, was one. Perhaps this woman was another. Myra had to wonder how a man as straight-laced as Stannis Baratheon fell into her company.

Stannis gave a heavy sigh then, as though this were only a hint at what went on between his advisors. It was the most human thing she had seen him do.

"Your Grace," Myra started again, looking pointedly at Melisandre. "My father needs your help, now more than ever."

"According to King's Landing, Eddard Stark is the reason my brother is dead," Stannis replied, leveling a hard look on her. "Tell me, why shouldn't I leave him to rot?"

Jory tensed, but held his tongue.

Myra took a breath. "Your Grace, you and I both know my father did not murder Robert Baratheon."

"Do we?" Stannis asked, standing then. "Clear the room."

Guards along the wall moved swiftly and silently, herding out whatever lords and ladies remained in the chamber. When they had finished, only Stannis and his advisers remained, as well as Myra and Jory.

"The Lannisters are not fools. If they claim that your father murdered my brother, they have something to use against him. The fact that he is being put to trial instead of the Kingsguard outright executing him is a testament to that."

Myra could not help but glance at Jory. His gaze was cold, jaw clenched.

Stannis looked between them. "What do you know?"