Robert was still out looking for his missing betrothed, and of course he had left Stannis with the responsibility of running the castle while he was riding to and fro. It was unlikely that Lyanna would be easily found, but Stannis knew how pointless it would be to contest his brother’s hope that “true love” would lead him to the Lost Stark. So here he was, staying up all night keeping the watchmen on track instead of inside with his heavily pregnant wife.

The rain had turned the packed dirt of the yard to mud, and Stannis’s boots had been caked brown for hours. Despite the late hour and dreadful weather, the inside of Storm’s End buzzed with activity. Everyone seemed to be just as agitated as Robert about recent events, huddling inside and talking in hushed tones, and growing quiet every time the younger Baratheon turned his glare on them only to resume their quiet conversation once he turned around. At this point it was really no use trying to send anyone back to their beds.

Donal Noye was hard at work in the armory, and Stannis had paused from his endless pacing to watch the burly man pound a sheet of metal over and over. He was so intent on the fiery sparks of the hammer that he almost didn’t notice when two people hurried across the yard out of the corner of his eye.

But even when focused, he kept his senses open, and he spun around to see Pate, the guard he’d set on the gate, leading some bedraggled woman in a blue gown that was completely soaked through the yard. This won’t do at all. The crease between Stannis’s eyebrows deepened as he moved to block their way.

“Pate! Who is this woman and why have you let her in? Robert said nobody was to be admitted until he returned from searching for the Stark Girl!” His tone brokered no room for jokes or half-answers. Anyone who abandoned his duties had to have a good reason.