"Ser Cole."
Stannis sat at his desk and waved the guards away. His piercing gaze settled on Cole as he continued.
"Two-sword knight. Dwarf's redeemer. Barbarian king. It seems the foolish singers have taken quite a liking to your story."
His voice was edged with disdain.
"Tywin Lannister has granted you land near Riverrun to build your own castle," Stannis went on. "Now, there are no fewer than a hundred men calling themselves 'Cole' in the Seven Kingdoms. But according to my maester, Ser Cole should be dead."
His tone carried judgment, as if the very notion of Cole standing before him was an insult to reason.
Cole frowned, confused by the direction of this conversation.
"You have committed fraud," Stannis declared coldly. "And worse, you have deceived the king."
"Your Majesty doubts my identity?" Cole asked.
The answer was clear in Stannis's expression. When he had received the Lannisters' decree regarding the land grant, he had been furious. How dare they distribute Riverlands territory as if it were their own? And now, before him stood a man who was supposed to be dead.
"Tell me, then," Stannis tapped a finger on his desk, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Was it a mermaid who saved you? Or did the gods bring you back to life?"
He leaned forward slightly. "I will offer you a choice—join the Night's Watch, or keep your tongue and face the consequences."
"Anyone who has seen me can confirm my identity," Cole countered. "I know the world believes me dead. Even I thought so myself. Floating from the Trident to Dragonstone may sound absurd, but I have not lied, Your Majesty."
Stannis studied him for a moment before speaking. "I could throw you in a cell until I find someone to confirm your story."
"No need, Your Majesty. I can prove myself." Cole stood firm. "The minstrels call me the 'Two-Sword Knight,' do they not? There aren't many in the Seven Kingdoms who fight with two blades. Allow me to demonstrate."
Stannis considered his words before nodding.
"I will have one of my knights face you in combat. He will not hold back. And in the spirit of fairness, you may arm yourself with whatever you wish from Dragonstone's arsenal."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Without hesitation, Cole stepped forward and presented a stone. "This is dragonglass. I found it for Princess Shireen. Please allow me to deliver it to her once our duel is finished."
Stannis hesitated for a moment before taking the stone. Then, without another word, he signaled for the guards to escort Cole away.
As the door shut behind them, a figure draped in red robes emerged from the shadows.
Stannis did not turn his head. "Is he the man you saw in the flames?"
Melisandre's voice was slow, deliberate.
"Yes, my king. R'hllor has guided him here. He is meant to aid the one true king."
More than that, she could sense the remnants of blood magic lingering around Cole—proof that his fate had been altered by something beyond mortal understanding.
Stannis stared at the dragonglass in his hand, lost in thought.
He had stopped believing in gods the day his parents perished in a shipwreck. If the gods existed only to take the lives of good men, then why worship them?
Finally, he summoned a guard.
"Take this to Shireen."
Then, he rose to his feet.
"Tomorrow, I will test him myself. I want to see if this so-called Two-Sword Knight is worthy of his name. He once fought for the rebels—I have not forgotten that. But he is young. Perhaps ignorant. I will teach him that his true king stands before him."
Cole expected to be thrown into a dungeon, but instead, he was escorted back to his quarters—under guard, of course.
The next morning, he was led to the Dragonstone armory.
Weapons lined the walls—spears, axes, longswords, war hammers. Every tool of war one could need. Stannis was clearly preparing for battle. His men were well-equipped, their armor polished and ready.
Cole scanned the selection and chose two knight's swords, a suit of chainmail, a chain helmet, knee guards, and gauntlets. He also took a pair of sheepskin gloves reinforced with leather. It was the gear he was most familiar with.
The duel was set to take place in Aegon's Garden.
But when Cole arrived, he saw no crowd, no gathered knights awaiting the spectacle.
Instead, he was led through the thorned hedges to a clearing.
A lone figure stood there, waiting.
No helmet.
No armor.
Not a knight at all.
Stannis Baratheon turned to face him.
Stannis held a longsword in his hand. When he saw Cole, he nodded politely and asked, "Are you satisfied with the opponent I have chosen for you?"
Cole was momentarily stunned. He had expected Stannis to send one of his strongest knights to test him—or perhaps even to kill him. But he had never imagined that Stannis would step into the ring himself.
Is our King of Dragonstone so confident in his own skill? Cole wondered. Or is he merely another ruler whom the minstrels have falsely accused of being a schemer who only plays at war?
"Your Majesty, swords have no eyes," Cole said cautiously. "You could send a knight to fight in your place. I'm sure there are plenty of men willing to fight for you."
"Take your swords, Ser," Stannis replied, unmoved.
Cole drew both blades.
Without hesitation, Stannis stepped forward and swung his sword with force. "Do you know who the true master of this kingdom is?"
Cole met the strike with a firm block. "I have heard the rumors. If they are true, then you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Your Majesty."
"Really?" Stannis's swordplay became smoother, almost lazy. "Then why does everyone know this truth and yet refuse to acknowledge it? Even my brother Renly dares to call himself king."
Cole deflected another blow, noticing that Stannis was holding back. Testing me, not trying to kill me.
"Your Majesty, ask the beggars on the roads of the Seven Kingdoms, and you'll know the answer," Cole said. "Few men refuse the chance to be king. But not everyone is fit to be one."
Stannis suddenly let out a rare chuckle. "Then tell me, Ser Cole—who among the Seven Kingdoms do you think is a good king?"
Cole answered without hesitation. "A good king is one who sees the throne as his duty, the people's well-being as his highest responsibility, and the law as his guiding principle."
Stannis seemed pleased by the answer. Slowly, he lowered his sword.
"Remember your own words, Ser Cole," he said. "Know where your king stands. Know whom you should serve."
Cole knelt on one knee. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will remember."
Stannis nodded. "Keep the sword and armor. Now, change your clothes and meet me in the study."
Cole knocked on the study door and entered. Stannis sat behind his desk, reading a letter. Without looking up, he gestured toward a seat.
"Sit."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Stannis finally looked up and handed Cole a piece of parchment. "According to the minstrels, Ser Cole is as wise as the clever Lanny, and he took Riverrun without striking a single blow."
Cole examined the paper. The letter was written in verse—clearly the work of a bard.
"My maester has gathered what little intelligence he could," Stannis continued. "But I still don't know where the Lannister army has gone."
Stannis was no fool. He understood that if he wished to seize the Iron Throne, he would have to prepare for Tywin Lannister's inevitable response. If he marched on King's Landing, Tywin would march to defend it.
Cole set the parchment down. "Your Majesty, if you wish to weaken the Lannisters, why not send aid to the Starks? They could help keep the Lannister forces occupied."
He deliberately avoided any mention of Lannister troop movements or defenses. It was merely a suggestion.
Stannis studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, at last, he spoke. "From now on, you will be responsible for protecting Shireen."
Cole bowed his head. "As you command, Your Majesty."
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