GOT: A Transmigrator's Conquest

After the meal, Stannon was immediately sent to his room to rest, though not without difficulty. Robb and Sansa, brimming with childish curiosity, clung to him like shadows. Robb was particularly interested in hearing about the Red Keep—its grandeur, the towering Iron Throne, and the knights that protected it. His eyes lit up as Stannon described the bustling courtyards and the tournaments where knights from across the kingdom competed.

Sansa, meanwhile, asked questions with a quieter curiosity. "Are the halls really made of gold? Does Queen Cersei wear dresses as beautiful as the ones in the songs?"

Stannon, doing his best to maintain his patience, answered carefully. He painted a picture of King's Landing that was neither too fantastical nor too grim, choosing his words to fit their ages. He spoke of the grandeur of the Red Keep but avoided the more sinister truths lurking within its walls.

"You'll see it one day," Stannon promised, though a doubt crossed his mind. Would they? Would any of them live to see a world where the crown and the realm didn't crush everything in their path?

Robb, energized by Stannon's stories, begged him to stay up a little longer. "Just one more story! Please?"

Sansa joined in, her hands clasped pleadingly. "Please, Stannon? Tell us more about the tournaments!"

Ned, standing nearby, finally intervened, his voice firm but kind. "That's enough for tonight. Your cousin has had a long journey and needs his rest."

The Stark children pouted but obeyed, though Robb grumbled under his breath. "Fine, but tomorrow, you'll show me how to ride like you do, right?"

Stannon managed a tired smile. "Tomorrow."

Finally, Jory escorted Stannon to his chambers. The room was warm and modest compared to the luxurious one of the Red Keep, but Stannon didn't seem to care.

"Sleep well, my prince," Jory said, his eyes scanning the room briefly before stepping out.

As the door closed, Stannon's attention shifted to the man standing just outside—the so-called Jory, his supposed attendant. Stannon's stomach twisted with unease. He wanted nothing else but to go outside and beat the living shit out of this guy, but he knew that with his current strength he would definitely be beaten black and blue by the fake Jory.

Leaning against the bed frame, Stannon let out a sigh, his thoughts racing. He had to deal with this impostor, and soon. But how? Confronting him directly was too dangerous. If Oren was as skilled as the system panel suggested, even Ser Barristan might struggle to protect him in case Oren decided to focus only on him. No, he needed a plan—a way to expose the assassin without putting himself or the Starks in immediate danger.

What puzzled Stannon most was that Oren hadn't attacked him by now. The man had every opportunity to kill him during the journey, yet he hadn't. Was he waiting for something? A specific moment?

A heavy thought settled in Stannon's mind. What if Oren wanted him to die in Winterfell? The implications were alarming. If Stannon were killed here, under the Stark roof and by an attendant assigned to him by Ned Stark himself, it would spark chaos.

Robert's infamous temper would ensure the conflict escalated into something far worse, all full on war. Even if Ned pleaded his case, Robert wouldn't listen. His love for Stannon was too deep, and his trust in the Starks would shatter.

And the Lannisters—they would benefit most from such a tragedy. A fractured alliance between the Baratheons and the Starks would weaken both houses, clearing a path for the Lannisters to tighten their grip on the throne.

'It's the perfect plan,' Stannon thought bitterly, walking to and forth in the room. He felt like a pawn in a deadly game, his every move observed and calculated by players far more experienced than he was.

He couldn't understand what he should do about this fake Jory. The man, or rather the thing wearing Jory Cassel's face, was far more skilled and dangerous than he was.

Worse still, Stannon had no proof to back his suspicions. Even if he went to Ned Stark and revealed everything, how could he convince him? Ned was an honorable man, bound by reason and evidence. He would never allow someone, to be executed without clear proof of guilt. And mere suspicions—even if those coming from a boy, heir to the throne or not—wouldn't be enough.

Afterall Ned had also argued with the king when he had wanted to kill the unborn baby of Daneyeres. And Stannon was sure that if Ned had the authority he definitely wouldn't have allowed the king to do so.

"Fu*k," Stannon cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. If only he had discovered the truth while they were still in King's Landing. Robert, with his impulsive nature and overwhelming temper, would have dealt with the matter swiftly. A single word from Stannon would have been enough for his father to order Jory's immediate execution, no questions asked. But here in Winterfell, under the watchful gaze of the Stark household, such a course of action was impossible.

'Or maybe I am just overthinking this. I could just say that Jory is not acting like Jory anymore and stuff like that. They would beleive me,' Stannon wondered as he couldn't help but think that it might just be him who was making the situation overly complex.

Stannon paused, his eyes falling on the fire. The flames danced and sizzled, their chaotic movements strangely calming. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to think clearly.

He knew he didn't need to kill Oren Stone. He just needed to expose him.

The key was to make Oren slip up, to force him into a position where he couldn't maintain the facade.

He continued pacing back and forth in the room, trying to come up with something that could be used to best Oren.

After a minute or so, he stopped pacing as an idea came to his mind where he could get rid of fake Jory and also make use of his future knowledge as a gateway in certain things that he would be doing in future without actually revealing his identity as a tranamigrator.

'I guess it's time to use the 'Child blessed by the God's title,' He couldn't help but smile at that.

Still, Stannon knew he couldn't rush. Patience was important. For now, Jory—or rather, Oren Stone—was still standing guard outside his door. His shift would end soon, and another knight would take his place. That would be the right moment to act. Until then, Stannon had to stay calm and wait.

Letting out a deep breath, he sat down on the bed. The thick fur blanket felt soft and warm beneath him, a small comfort in the tense situation. To pass the time and clear his mind, he decided to check his system panel. With a quick command in his mind, the familiar glow of the interface appeared before him. At least he could use these moments to look at the progress he'd made during his training over the past few days.

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Ascension System

Rank: ★

EXP: (0/100)

Name: Stannon Baratheon

Age: 7 years

EXP: 80

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Abilities (3/3)

1. Adaptation ★

EXP: (05/100)

2. Iron hide ★★

EXP: (00/500)

3. Lightning Reflexes ★★

EXP: (08/500)

Skills (5/5)

1. Boxing ★

EXP: (17/100)

2. Knife Combat ★★

EXP: (17/500)

3. Swordsmanship Basics ★★

EXP: (15/500)

4. Silent Steps ★

EXP: (52/100)

5. Poision Resistance ★

EXP: (07/100)

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'It won't be long before I would be able to upgrade the system,' Stannon thought as he left out a deep yawn.

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