"Duke Eddard Stark… I believe we need to discuss the matter of the King's heir."
The moment he entered the room, Stannis Baratheon spoke those words without preamble.
The air froze.
Eddard Stark, standing near the table, stiffened slightly. His grey eyes narrowed as he looked at the King's younger brother—the Lord of Dragonstone—who made no effort to conceal his intentions.
His expression turned solemn.
"This is neither a matter for me to discuss," Eddard replied coldly, "nor something for you to raise with me, Lord Stannis."
There was a clear edge in his voice.
Eddard had never liked Stannis.
Not his manner, not his tone, and certainly not his relentless bluntness.
And now, with those opening words, Stannis had made his purpose unmistakably clear.
Stannis frowned faintly, displeasure flashing across his rigid features.
"This is no trivial matter, Lord Hand," he said, his voice low but firm. "It concerns the stability of the realm. As Hand of the King… it is your duty."
Eddard did not respond immediately.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, silent, weighing his thoughts.
Then, after a brief pause, he stepped further into the room and approached the small table by the wall.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked.
His tone had softened slightly—but not his guard.
He knew Stannis was right.
If the succession was in question, then it was his responsibility.
But that did not mean he welcomed this conversation.
Stannis glanced around before sitting down on a nearby stool.
Eddard poured two cups of summer red, handing one to him before taking his own seat opposite.
Silence lingered between them.
Eddard simply watched.
Waiting.
Stannis took a small sip of wine, then set the cup down.
"No matter what," he began again, "Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella are bastards of House Lannister."
His tone was cold and unwavering.
"It was their existence that sparked this war."
Eddard's grip tightened slightly around his cup, but he said nothing.
"Now that the war with the Lannisters has ended," Stannis continued, "shouldn't you, as Hand of the King, ensure the stability of the realm?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Or have you forgotten the Dance of the Dragons?"
At that, Eddard finally reacted.
He lifted the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip—not out of thirst, but to buy himself a moment.
Then, calmly, he spoke.
"Catelyn tells me the children are still in Winterfell," he said. "Robb has been troubled over how to deal with them."
He raised his gaze.
"Tell me, Lord Stannis… what would you do?"
Stannis frowned, clearly displeased at the deflection.
Yet he answered.
"The Lannisters have already lost everything," he said after a pause. "But the children are innocent."
His voice remained firm, though less sharp than before.
"What their parents did has nothing to do with them."
He exhaled slowly.
"They should live as commoners. Sent to farming families, perhaps. Raised far from politics."
"That would be mercy."
Eddard's hand paused mid-motion.
For a brief moment, he seemed frozen.
Then—
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
"Perhaps," he murmured, "that is the best outcome."
"To forget everything… to start anew… and simply live."
But Stannis did not respond.
Instead, he stared at Eddard.
Waiting.
Eddard sighed inwardly.
He knew he could not avoid this any longer.
"Stannis," he said finally, his tone quieter but no less firm, "I understand what you are implying."
"But this is not a discussion we should be having."
If it had been anyone else, that might have ended the conversation.
But Stannis was not anyone else.
"What if Robert were to die suddenly?" he asked bluntly.
Eddard's eyes snapped toward him.
"And leave no heir?" Stannis continued. "What then?"
"Mind your words!" Eddard snapped, his voice sharp with anger.
"He is your king!"
His gaze hardened.
"Yes, he may not be perfect—but he is still Robert Baratheon!"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Unless you intend to kill him yourself?"
Stannis's expression did not change.
"I would not," he said calmly. "Nor have I ever considered such a thing."
He paused.
"I speak only for the good of the realm."
But Eddard was not convinced.
Still, he forced himself to remain silent.
Stannis continued.
"You know Robert," he said. "Better than most."
His voice grew heavier.
"Wine. Women. Hunting."
"Any one of them could kill him."
"Enough!" Eddard barked.
His anger flared openly now.
"Stop speaking such nonsense!"
Stannis fell silent.
For a moment, the room was filled only with the faint sound of breathing.
Then—
Eddard sat back down.
The tension remained thick between them.
Time passed.
Neither spoke.
But Eddard's mind was racing.
Because deep down—
He could not deny it.
The history of Westeros was filled with sudden deaths.
Kings who fell without warning.
Dynasties shaken by unexpected tragedy.
And every time—
The realm paid the price.
At last, Eddard looked up.
"You want my support," he said plainly.
"For your claim to the Iron Throne."
Stannis did not deny it.
Instead, he met Eddard's gaze directly.
"I do not need your favor," he said. "Only your recognition of what is lawful."
"In the absence of a trueborn heir… the throne passes to the next brother."
Eddard nodded slowly.
"That may be so," he admitted.
"But Robert will remarry."
"And when he does, he will have a trueborn son."
He leaned forward.
"What then becomes of your claim?"
Stannis's eyes flickered.
"It will take time," he said.
"At least a year."
He paused.
"And what of Karl Stone?"
The name hung heavily in the air.
Stannis continued.
"If Robert legitimizes him… which house would support such a decision?"
"There are no allies as powerful as the Lannisters now."
"And when Robert has a trueborn heir…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"What then becomes of Karl Stone?"
Eddard said nothing.
Because he already knew the answer.
"Karl Stone is exceptional," Stannis admitted.
"But he has no foundation."
"No lineage."
"No allies strong enough to sustain him."
Eddard closed his eyes briefly.
Because everything Stannis said—
Was true.
He had seen Karl's abilities.
His leadership.
His vision.
In many ways—
He was everything Robert had once dreamed of being.
And yet—
It was not enough.
When Eddard opened his eyes again, his voice had softened.
"Karl is still Robert's blood," he said quietly.
"You cannot deny that."
"I do not," Stannis replied.
"But he has already been given enough."
"The West."
"Power."
"Opportunity."
Stannis leaned forward slightly.
"If he wishes to rise further… he must build his own house."
"Take a name."
"Create his own legacy."
His voice hardened.
"But the Iron Throne…"
He shook his head.
"That is not his to claim."
Silence fell once more.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Eddard stared at the table, his thoughts in turmoil.
Because for the first time—
He could no longer ignore the question.
Who should inherit the throne?
And more importantly—
What choice would cost the realm the least?
Outside, the world moved on.
But inside that quiet chamber—
The future of the Seven Kingdoms hung in the balance.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)