In good conscience
Lord Rickard Stark, the Red Keep
“They were nothing but Dragon spawn!” Robert Baratheon bellowed at his son who flushed angrily. “Why do you care about them and their whore mother?! Their family were responsible for all the shit that has befallen us!”
Lord Rickard Stark gave a cold look to the man that would be king. The more indifferent side of him understood that for the Southerners plan to work, all the Targaryen's needed to die. The side of him that was a father and husband howled at him to take action. Ned opened his mouth, ready to argue some more.
“Leave it Ned,” He said harshly before his son could speak. Ned gave him a betrayed look. “These Southern cunts can have their games, we have more important things to do.”
Now it was Robert and Jon Arryn who stared at him with betrayal and anger. Those surrounding them began to murmur. Rickard paid them no mind.
“Of course father,” Ned replied dully and with a short bow of his head. Ricked gestured for him to leave the throne room first with their men.
“Ned,” Robert called. “I didn't tell you to leave.”
“He doesn't answer to you boy, he answers to me.” Rickard snapped back.
“This is the king you speak to, Lord Stark.” Lord Tywin said smoothly.
“He wasn't crowned by anyone and I sure as hell did not bend my knee to this shit head.”
“Rickard,” Jon pleaded.
“No, old friend, if Steffon could see the kind of monster his son has become, he would have killed him by now with his own two hands.” Kingslayer mark be damned, he thought. Steffon would not, in good conscience, allow his son to get away with this. And neither would Rickard, not without some repercussions at the very least.
“I slayed the monster on the Trident!” Robert bellowed again, taking a step forward. A hand from Jon Arryn stopped him from getting closer but his hands still gripped his war hammer.
“You slayed the man that knew where my daughter was you buffoon,” Rickard retorted angrily. “Then you rewarded this arsehole for hiding under a rock and killing innocents,” He flicked his wrist at Tywin Lannister, a man he had once been cordial to, one could even say that they had been friends at some point. “And what does that leave us with, hmm? My daughter is still missing and now you have dead kin at your feet.”
“They are not my kin!”
“Your ancestor was a bastard Targaryen who stole the titles and sigil of another house,” Ricked said calmly. “Your grandmother was a Targaryen as well. Your usurping the Throne from them could be considered poetic irony.” I consider it pathetic really, Rickard thought with a shake of his head. “As I told my son, there are more important things to do than stand here.” He began to leave but found his path blocked by Westerland knights, including Ser Gregor Clegane.
“If I am not outside of these walls soon, my son will lead our troops here and slaughter everyone in their path to get to me,” Rickard still kept his composure but his hand was reaching for Ice. He hadn't been gifted with any power like some of his children or ancestors were, but he was damn good with a sword.
“You know your histories, don't you Clegane? No? Then let me enlighten you. When King Aegon and his family came here with Fire and Blood, they conquered all but two kingdoms with three of their dragons. It took nine of them to gain the fealty of the North after they swore to help them with problems North of the Wall.
“I brought six giants here today and there are more up North who would be willing to tear this palace to pieces. It wasn't the Westerlands or the Stormlands, or even the Eyrie that helped win the fight in the Riverlands. It was the North. And the North would gladly raise hell upon all of you if you don't let me go. So, decisions.”
By now it was deathly silent, save for Robert's heaving breaths. Rickard had drawn his sword and waited. Rickard hoped that a fight would happen. He could hopefully gain justice for the innocents that had been harmed here this day or die in the attempt.
“Let him go,” Tywin Lannister said reluctantly, bitterly. He couldn't actively hold a fellow Warden as a hostage without legal precedent and he had none to offer. Rickard turned to give him a curt nod of acknowledgment and he received a cold look in return. He chanced a glance at Robert and hid a grimace. The boy's face was as red as an apple and his eyes were mad with blood lust. How Rickard ever thought to marry his only girl to him was a mystery.
I am sorry Steffon, but there is something wrong with your boy. I only wish that I caught it sooner.
“Rickard! Lord Rickard!” Jon Arryn called to him as he mounted his horse. Snow, Rickard's Direwolf, growled at the other man, causing him to halt.
“What do you want Jon?”
“Was all of that necessary?” Jon demanded. “Did you really need to do any of that?”
“Three innocent lives were butchered Jon and countless others were killed and raped, what would you have me do?”
“This is what happens in war-”
“The war was over,” Eddard growled out from beside his father, his own Direwolf, Honor, growling with him. “That's the only reason that Lannister even came out of hiding!”
“Its in the past Ned,” Jon said softly. “We can only look towards the future.”
“Aye, and our future is one without the Iron Throne in it,” Rickard gave Jon a glare when he made to protest. “It was the dragons we bowed too Jon, not the Stags. Until a dragon sits upon that Throne, the North as a whole will not support it or leave its borders in an unnecessary manner.”
And such generous borders too, Jon thought with resignation as he saw the fire in the eyes of his friend. Dorne and the North were lost this day and Jon prayed to the Seven that they never allied together or they would box them in and crush them all.
“Would you at least lift the siege on Storms End?” Jon asked. “And if there is news on Lyanna-”
“Steffon's boys will not suffer one more moment of that fool Tyrell's company,” Rickard cut him off curtly. “I owe Steffon that much. I would take them both as my squires if it wouldn't incur Robert's wrath.”
We both know that Robert cares not one lick about his brothers, Jon thought sadly. If Rickard took them both with him then Robert would only complain about not having someone to watch the Stormlands for him, not about their leaving.
Jon was also sad that his friend was also going to withdraw the betrothal agreement between his daughter and Robert. It would probably be for the best really. She may be dead or worse, pregnant with Rhaegar's child. Robert would see it killed and the North would respond in kind.
Rickard's kingdom stretched to the Iron Islands, often referred to as the Sunset Port, and to the Three Sisters, also known as the Narrow Port. They even had an alliance with Braavos which would hold to the end of time as far as anyone was concerned. They had the man power and the resources to fight for as long as they wanted, never mind the beasts that they could control or the gifts they had.
The only reason that the war wasn't over immediately was because Rickard was more interested in Justice than Vengeance and their forces were too great to rally that quickly. Not to mention that the Iron Born were fighting amongst themselves about who to back in this war. House Greyjoy no longer controlled those lands and one of Wyman Manderly's sons took control of it.
Rickard had to deal with that fall out first before he could move on. He, Ned and Robert had gotten into enough fights to stall their movements for extended periods of time. The River Lords fighting for the Throne hadn't helped matters either.
“I wish you good fortune in the years to come,” Rickard said, interrupting Jon from his thoughts.
“You as well,” Jon replied honestly. No matter what, Rickard would always be his friend, no, his brother. And Ned would always be his son.
A son who could only look at him with shame.
Storms End, Sometime later
“My thanks, Lord Stark,” Stannis Baratheon said through gritted teeth and as his men feasted on the food that was given.
“Nephew,” Rickard said warningly. He and Steffon were not born brothers but they had sworn blood oaths to one another. That made all the difference in the eyes of the Old Gods. Robert was his nephew in this manner as well, but he had been raised by another and Rickard felt nothing for him now.
“Thank you uncle,” Stannis said a little less stiffly.
“Fank yoo -” Renly said through a mouthful of bread and cheese.
"You're welcome, lad.” Rickard gave the youngest Baratheon a smile as Stannis frowned at his appalling manners. “Is there anything else you need before we leave, nephew?”
Stannis paused in thought then leaned over towards Rickard, “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to take Renly up North?” He asked quietly.
“Of course not,” Rickard's reply was just as quiet. “But what of you?”
“I have to stay behind, this is my home and mine by rights. If Robert denies it too me or asks too much of me, I will take the first ship I can North. Renly shouldn't be here for that, not after all he has experienced.”
“Very well, is there anything else?”
“Take Ser Davos with you, please,” Stannis nodded to a man who stood to the side and looked out of place. “He's a good man. He brought us food when we needed it and I knighted him as a reward. He was a smuggler though, so I also took his fingers as punishment but he understood my reasoning. I would have him watch over Renly as his sworn sword. You would need to take his family in as well.”
Rickard nodded his consent, a plan forming in his mind and he examined to Ser Davos. Even with all the families that sprouted up with the migration of the Free Folk centuries ago, there was still enough land to spare. A small keep wouldn't be that difficult to give to a newly anointed knight.
“Uncle,” Stannis gave his shoulder a bit of a squeeze, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you can trust them?” Stannis gave a slight glare to Ser Barristan Selmy and Thoros of Myr, who sat next to one another. Ser Barristan looked extremely uncomfortable being around his fellow Stormlanders. To be fair, he did fight for their enemy before bending the knee and fighting for them, so the occasional glare he got wasn't that surprising.
Thoros on the other hand, looked happier than a pig in shit. He ate the lot, drank the lot and partook in the festivities with gusto. He wasn't lying when he said he was a bit of a glutton.
“Ser Barristan is coming with us to Dorne so he can speak with his fellow knights,” Rickard explained. Barristan had promised to try and get his fellow knights to lay down their arms to the best of his ability. Of course, it wasn't confirmed that they were in Dorne, but there had been enough rumblings and whispers for Rickard to not openly dismiss it. “I trust him enough to do that.”
“And the other one?”
Stannis would never trust religion or anyone who preached it. He didn't care if was the Old Gods, The New Gods or the Lord of Light. He just didn't trust it.
“His religion is foreign but he doesn't believe in it. I am not entirely sure that I can trust in him.” Rickard admitted. “But he saved my sons life during battle and the only boon he asked of me was for sanctuary against his old order. Seems like a small price to pay really.”
His nephew pursed his lips in disapproval but let the subject drop.