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It was a mild spring day when Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and younger brother to King Robert wed Selyse of House Florent. Selyse’s mother had said it was a good omen, a signal of new beginnings, not only for her marriage but also for House Florent. Neither of her parents needed to voice which of those two things was the most important. The gown that she wore also seemed to represent that. She had always enjoyed pretty clothing, but her brothers had been quick to mock her for such. Today, however, there would be no mocking and when she sees herself in a looking glass, she imagines she looks nearly as beautiful as her cousin, Delena.
Her father, Ser Ryam, fastens her maiden’s cloak, and Ser Axell Florent, his elder brother gives her a smile. When she was a girl, she recalled her uncle speaking to her father on the question of marriage, saying that he’d be lucky if a hedge knight would take her, let alone a lord. Yet when her engagement to the Lord of Dragonstone had been announced, suddenly her uncle was all smiles and pleasantries, speaking of how great of a union this would be for House Florent. He was kind to her now.
But she would never forget the conditions for that kindness.
Nevertheless, she was not about to let thoughts like that distract her from the importance of her wedding day. She knew well enough that it was her duty to represent her house in the best manner possible (a new beginning for House Florent, her parents’ voices repeated). Arm in arm, she walks with her father to the sept, passing the King, the Queen, and a good portion of court. As they near the end of the aisle, she catches sight of Renly Baratheon, the young Lord of Storm’s End, smiling at the two of them with a glint of something in his blue eyes.
She had always liked Renly. Out of her husband’s two brothers, he was by far the more agreeable one (perhaps partially by virtue, given what Robert had done, and on account of Stannis being... Stannis). On the rare occasions that they had conversed, it had almost seemed to Selyse that he treated her far more kindly than his elder brother ever had. Often, she wished that her husband could have inherited some of his seamless grace.
At least, that was how it seemed until one of the couples’ exceedingly rare visits to Storm’s End. Selyse had been retiring to her quarters when she heard the young man speaking to who she could only assume was his squire. Unlike the times that he had talked to her, his tone was different, almost mocking.
“—hideous. Did you see the size of her mustache?”
It didn’t take her long to realize just who exactly they were speaking of.
“Of course I did. It is nearly impossible to miss. Truth be told, I cannot help but wonder why your brother picked her out of all the marriageable women in the Reach.”
Renly scoffed. “I’d think that it’s plainly obvious. Look at her. No man would want her, not even Robert. You might not know this, but he was furious when Stannis didn’t pick out a pretty wife. In the long run, he was better off, seeing what he ended up doing in their marriage—”
She had heard all that she cared to. Selyse cleared your throat, moving into the view of the two young men. She hardened her face and hoped that neither would suspect how long she had been standing there.
“My lady, I— did not hear you coming around the corner.” And just like that, Renly was back to the kind-hearted boy that she had come to know. Yet she would never forget his words, and nor would she forgive. In the end, Renly Baratheon was every bit as brutish as his brothers.
That evening, she informed Stannis about Renly’s conversation with his squire. The entire time, he sat in silence, jaw clenched.
”Such behaviour is both unbecoming of a Baratheon, as well as the Lord of Storm’s End. I will speak to Renly about his insolence.”
She cannot help but note he did not deny what his brother said.
Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, awaits her. He is dressed in understated finery fit for a prince and looks every bit as handsome as his brothers (a far cry from the dour young man she had met with on a scant number of occasions), yet she had never seen a man look quite so uncomfortable. Ser Ryam holds her hand out, and it seems to take Lord Stannis a moment to realize that he is meant to clasp it. In that moment, Selyse is positive that the discomfort is contagious, and she cannot help but wonder if this is the first time Stannis has ever touched a woman (but with a man like Robert as a brother brother, she is still postive that it cannot be so). The septon’s voice drones on for far too long for her liking, and each time that she ventures a glance at him, her future husband shifts even more uncomfortably.
Finally, it is time for the changing of the cloaks.
“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you as my lord and husband.” Her voice is firm and sure.
Stannis replies in turn, voice equally firm, removing her maiden’s cloak and replacing it with the black and gold of House Baratheon. The kiss is foreign on her lips, and Stannis does little to ease the discomfort. The rest of the ceremony passes by quickly until the Septon announces that in the sight of gods and men, Lord Stannis of House Baratheon, and Lady Selyse of House Florent are man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one that comes between them.
If there was one thing that they seemed to be of “one mind” on, it was the discomfort with one another that they both feel.
They leave the Sept quickly, but she cannot help but notice as her new husband exchanges an odd look with a man that looked far too common for such an event.
It would only be later that evening, in the midst of upset and confusion, that she would learn his name.
Ser Davos. From the start, she had mistrusted the man, never quite understanding why her husband felt the need to keep a smuggler so close at hand (though knowing of Stannis’ penchant for justice, perhaps she suspected it had something to do with keeping one’s friends close but their enemies closer) and as the years wore on, that distrust slowly turned to dislike.
Though she lived a quiet existence far from the bustle of court, some whispers didn’t escape her ears. That Ser Davos remained with him at court for as long as he could. That there were evenings when he remained in the Lord of Dragonstone’s quarters for most of the night, not returning to his own until the morning. That her husband would shun the company of lords for that of a common smuggler.
Selyse knew better than to doubt her husband’s honour, but such whispers could and would damage his standing. So once, she confronted Stannis about the matter and advised that perhaps he should keep a man like Ser Davos at arm’s length. Stannis had replied to her with nothing but mild irritation.
“Unless I were to cut out the tongue of every man at court, men will spin tales. Know that I would never dishonour you, my lady.”
Yet, it seemed as though her husband did not understand. “My lord—”
“You have given me your counsel, and I have heard it. I will do with it what I see fit.” His tone brokered no argument.
For the remainder of his visit, he would not speak to her. And when he returned to King’s Landing, she didn’t receive a raven from her husband for four months.
Cast aside for a common smuggler. She did not need gossips to tell her that. Her Lord Husband has made it perfectly clear to her.
“It was a lovely day, was it not?”
The feast was more extravagant than she would have expected for a man such as Stannis, but she suspects that his royal brother may have had something to do with it. Despite his charm, she was not fond of him. But of course, she did not make that known as she sat in silence next to her husband. When the dancing began, she was not sure whether it was a relief or not. They both knew what would come once it was done, and she had no desire for Robert Baratheon of all men to make lewd comments to her as she was undressed.
Stannis seemed less than thrilled with the prospect of the bedding as well. So, she attempts to ease him into it with light conversation (was it not a wife’s duty to make her husband feel comfortable?).
He gives her a quick nod, paying her little attention. Instead, he surveys the room, glancing at the dancing couples around them. She follows his lead, attempting to make easy conversation apparently a lost cause. The man from earlier is dancing with a stout woman who she can only assume to be his wife. Young Renly is dancing with some lady or another, and Selyse half-wishes that the ten-year-old might be her dance partner instead. The Queen, she is surprised to see, is dancing with her twin brother instead the King.
Stannis lets her go.
“Forgive me my lady, but have you seen my elder brother?”
It seemed like an odd question to ask. “I have not.”
A frown creeps across his face, deepening by the moment. He quickly excuses himself from the hall. Selyse is half-tempted to follow her, but if the matter is urgent, she is positive that she will be informed of it. But as the minutes go on, she becomes increasingly curious and eventually it gets the better of her. She leaves the same route Stannis did, leading to the keep’s bedchambers.
When she finds her husband, what she sees makes her blood run cold.
There, in their wedding bed, was King Robert Baratheon, and her cousin, Delena Florent. Her cousin, Delena Florent. Her foolish cousin. Before she realizes it, she starts to cry, not quite sure if it’s from shock, grief or humiliation. Did her fool of a cousin realize what she had done? Did she care?! For one night of lust, she was shaming two families.
Through her tears, she notices her husband’s hand curl into a fist and she almost wonders if he is going to strike his brother, the king.
But the moment passes.
“—one thousand Gold Dragons for one feast. Despite my counsel, he insists on wasteful spending. We will be fortunate if the realm does not fall into Braavosi control at this rate.”
It was one of her husband’s rare visits to Dragonstone, and he spent it as he always did: complaining about Robert’s indulgences to the maester. The sun had begun to set, and the two of them would soon have to complete their dreaded marital duties. Yet, it would seem that such things had slipped Stannis’ mind. Neither Maester Cressen nor her husband seemed to have noticed her presence at the moment. But, was that truly a surprise?
“My lord, perhaps Robert had good reason for his spending. Was this not to mark the birth of his second son?” As always, the masester attempted to play the mediator, even when one brother was absent. If she cared enough, perhaps she would find it sentimental of him.
So Selyse decided that this was as good of a time as any to make her presence known. “When has his Grace ever had a good reason to do anything, Maester?”
Stannis frowned, moving his teeth from side to side. Sometimes, she half-wondered how the poor things still managed to endure.
“My lady.” His tone was the same as ever: stiff and courteous.
Selyse chose her words carefully before speaking again. “I could it would seem to me that you would be a far better ruler than your elder brother, my lord.”
Stannis’ eyes darkened at that and an odd expression passed over his face. “Those words tread dangerously close to treason, my lady. For all of his faults, Robert is my elder brother and my king. I will do my duty by him, and you will not speak to me again on this manner.”
A wave of anger passed over her. No matter how much Stannis seemed to hate his elder brother, at least there was passion in his voice when he spoke of him. And perhaps deep down, there was still a part of him that might still love the man in spite of his many flaws.
When he spoke to or about Selyse, she had only ever heard mild annoyance and indifference.
The rest of the evening passes by in a blur. She remembers bits and pieces, her mother attempting to reassure her, Robert continuing to laugh, claiming that he had not realized his mistake, that common man (Ser Davos, the Onion Knight, he had called himself) escorting the both of them to another bedchamber.
And that was where they remained. Neither of them spoke to one another. The night had been ruined, they had both been humiliated, and there was little to be done.
Except for one thing. The one thing that neither of them had a stomach for, yet… Stannis looks at her with an odd look in his eyes.
And he begins to unlace his doublet. Selyse can only stare in horror, and he frowns again moving his teeth from side to side. After all that has happened, does he truly mean to—
“I am well aware of the situation, my Lady. I… mislike this as much as you, but it must be done, sooner rather than later.” Stannis interrupts her thoughts.
She swallows. “Can it not wait, my lord?”
Once again, he is silent, as though deep in thought. Finally, he speaks again.
“I have need of a son. An heir. Great or small, we must do our duty, and I imagine that it will be… better for the both of us to finish this task.” Sooner, rather than later was the implication in his voice.
It was a wife’s duty to obey her husband’s wishes. And despite everything that happened, perhaps they could end this night with a glimmer of hope. She nods as she begins to unlace her dress, not giving him time to change his mind on the matter. She would give him a son.
And she would rid the world of her cousin’s shame.
For all that the girl represented, Selyse had always loved Shireen. And perhaps she loved her more because of it. Stannis treated her in much the same manner he treated his wife, and she felt an odd sort of companionship with the girl.
Until the child took ill with Greyscale.
For the first two weeks, she hadn’t noticed it, being too preoccupied with Shireen’s health to think of anything else. There was nothing she loved more in the world than that girl. She scarcely ate, slept, or drank, visiting the Maester’s chambers whenever she could, asking for the latest information on her child’s condition. But in time, as she waited outside the Maester’s chambers, she began to see something.
Her husband was in the same state. He looked far older than his years, and it was clear that he had never left the door.
Not for his wife’s sake, never for her sake, but instead for their daughter. In his own, strange way, he loved his daughter.
He loved his daughter that should have been a son. He loved his daughter as he wouldn’t love his wife.
For a moment, she resents her daughter for being able to elicit a reaction from her husband. That even now, when she should be thinking about her daughter, she wishes that her husband would show some kind of emotion towards her.
She hates him for making her think such things, and in that moment, she realizes that she has always been truly alone.
When she woke in the morning, Stannis was already gone. A chill from an open window blew through the room, perhaps a sign of early morning snow. A new beginning for House Florent and a new beginning for Selyse Baratheon. A tepid day that would only grow colder, tainted forever by shared humiliation. This was to be her fate. A cold marriage and a cold heart. But she would accept it and make do.
What other choice did she have?
When the woman arrived, she asked for an audience with the Lady of Dragonstone. Not the Maester, not the Castellan, but the Lady of Dragonstone. Had it not been for that, perhaps she would have advised her uncle to send the woman on her way. But instead she met with Lady Melisandre of Asshai, alone.
And when the Red Woman spoke of God’s plan for her, she listened.
fin.