A/N: Otherwise titled 'An ode to the slightly odd, yet very endearing relationship between Stannis and Davos'. I probably will try more Stavos fics in the future as trying to capture their particular dynamic is tricky and just too enjoyable. Ones were the sexual tension is actually resolved, which unfortunately doesn't happen here. Oh well. Enjoy.

Men of the Sea

Davos Seaworth stood leaning against a stone corridor wall watching the pale blue of dawn glowing through a window. He watched and waited. At King's Landing dawn was his favourite time of day. Everyone with a title was still in bed.

A few hours past dawn in King's Landing and Davos would have to suffer the company, courtesy and backhanded criticism of his fellow knights. Ladies who judged him for his plain clothes and common face, sers who judged Davos for the onion on his sigil and his closeness to his lord. They would probably label it 'influence'. Davos almost chuckled at that, he certainly didn't have any influence over Stannis Baratheon.

At that moment a grizzled servant wearing the king's colours bustled into the corridor. It may have been the crack of dawn, but for anyone without a knighthood a long day of work had already begun. As the servant passed he gave Davos a long, suspicious look that seemed to accuse Davos of loitering. Davos stood straighter and squared his narrow shoulders to loiter in a way more becoming of a knight. Except he wasn't loitering, he reminded himself, he was waiting.

Without a word the servant turned his beady eyes back to face front and hurried on up a staircase, leaving Davos once again to himself with only the dawn and the soft sounds of morning for company.

It had been over a year now since Davos had been knighted, and still he hadn't got any more used to dealing with servants than he had to dealing with lords. For some reason Ser Davos couldn't manage 'Cup bearer, bring me my wine!' or 'Stable boy, bring me my horse!' without cringing inwardly at himself. Instead he had tried to talk to servants the same way he would talk to men in a crew, but that only seemed to result in many a strange look, the suspicion that he was mocking them, and at worst resentment though they dared not show it openly.

It didn't matter that most of the servants in King's Landing didn't know who he was, Davos only had to speak for his accent to mark him as Fleabottom born and bred, and no one from Fleabottom was ever so honoured as to become a servant in the king's castle. As it was, a servant may have to spend all day looking up to knights, lords and ladies, but he could at least have the satisfaction of looking down on the muck from Fleabottom. Unfortunately for them, the existence of Ser Davos rather upset that harmonious heirachy. Davos knew well it wasn't just his equals and betters who considered him no more than an up-jumped smuggler.

But so be it. Compared to the lands he held, where his young family would grow up safe, secure, and with opportunities he could only have dreamt of, whatever anyone else thought meant little to him. Well, except the thoughts of the lord who had granted it all.

A couple more servants passed through the corridor, also in the king's colours, carrying a pale of water in each hand. These didn't give Davos any notice, but he recognised them by sight. They passed this way every morning, and almost every morning Davos was here in this corridor, in just a shirt and breeches with his back to the wall, waiting patiently and minding his own business.

Thinking back, Davos couldn't exactly remember how this tradition of theirs had started. By now it seemed almost expected of Davos. Not that he minded: if it was an obligation, it was definitely the type of obligation Davos liked. As for his lord, he didn't seem to enjoy much that life had to offer, but it was obvious that he enjoyed this particular habit. Obvious to Davos at least. Though it wasn't exactly something they had discussed, or even passingly mentioned to each other outside the hours of first light. Rather it was a tradition they had simply fallen into on discovering they both had the same ideas on how best to start a morning. Especially a morning at the forever trying King's Landing.

As if to prove the point, the first servant, grey haired and grizzled, again appeared at the end of the corridor, his eyes again fixing Davos with a stare that had left suspicion and moved on to plain annoyance. Davos had just decided he'd had enough of this particular servant prowling about him and was about to tell him as much, when the servant opened his mouth first, "Look, if you don't got nothing to do, you ain't getting your pay at the end of the week. There's a thousand things that need to get done, for a start cleaning this floor, the stairs and the windows. Stop loafing around, and get on with it!"

Davos was so taken aback he didn't know how to respond. Luckily he didn't have to.

"You have forgotten your place, old man, or you have forgotten his," said a gruff voice behind Davos, "You are speaking to a knight of the realm, not a scullery maid."

Stannis Baratheon had finally arrived, frown and all.

"My lord, I- I didn't mean... didn't know... I-I-I didn't mean no offence," the servant spluttered, his beady eyes wide, all of a sudden cowed in front of the folded arms and dark expression on the face of the Lord of Dragonstone.

"On your knees and say it."

"Of course, my lord."

The servant dropped practically on all fours in front of Stannis. He was about to start stuttering again when Stannis cut across him, "Not to me, to Ser Davos Seaworth."

"Of course, my lord... Ser..." the servant turned on his knees to face Davos, who could only look on bemused at the spectacle. "Ser, apologies, ser, but pity me an old fool. I've got bad eyes, you see ser. I'm blind almost me. So I couldn't see who... but, I do now, ser, yes. I see your noble face, your fine clothes, your shining boots, which becomes a knight such as yerself, ser."

Never mind that Davos' face was as plain as his clothes and dull as his boots.

The servant didn't stop, "Please forgive me, ser. If I'm thrown out of the king's service, I-I don't know what I'll do. My brother's family, he was killed off during the war, you see ser, and I'm all they've got left. If I got no wage, they'll all-"

"Enough of your prattle," Stannis interrupted before the servant could blabber through any more life story. Jaw clenched, he turned to Davos, "Are you satisfied, ser?"

"I would say so, yes," Davos replied, quite in awe of Lord Stannis.

"Good. Old man, to make sure you remember house Seaworth, and the respect they deserve, you have earned yourself the duty of cleaning Ser Davos' privy for the next month."

"Thankyou, my lord."

"Now, get off your knees and out of my sight."

"Of course, my lord. Thankyou, my lord." With that the servant scurried off.

Once he had turned the corner, leaving them alone, Stannis unclenched his jaw and made an exasperated sigh, "They will learn eventually."

"If I went around with a lance at my side, my lord, they might learn quicker."

Davos watched as one side of Stannis' lips quirked up, "Probably."

Arms still folded, Stannis nodded in the direction of the descending staircase, and they walked on side by side. Stannis, like Davos, was only dressed in breeches and shirt, no doublet. For what they were going to do, there wasn't any point wearing more clothes, and it was too early for anyone of import to be around to notice.

Regardless that they were dressed almost the same, it would be impossible to mistake Stannis Baratheon for a commoner as had happened to Davos on countless occasions. Though if Davos was honest with himself, and he always was, to mistake Davos for a commoner was hardly a mistake. On the other hand, Davos thought you could dress Stannis in rags and he would still look like a lord. Tall, strong and steely, though they would say not as tall, strong and steely as his brother, though three times as erect Davos knew; Stannis was the most solemn faced young man he had ever met. Glancing up at him, Davos saw that even at this hour it was not too early for Stannis Baratheon to be brooding.

"At least now the guards have the decency to let you in the castle," Stannis said finally, as they descended the stone spiral stairs.

Davos chuckled, "Yes, there's been progress there, my lord."

One of the first times Davos had been summoned to King's Landing, and when he had to re-enter the castle by himself one afternoon, the guards had failed to recognise him and refused to let him through. He had waited for over two hours outside the gates until, by chance, King Robert returned drunk from his hunt, nearly ran Davos over with his horse and shouted "My brother's onion knight!" that Davos was allowed back inside the castle. Stannis had said it was the only useful thing Robert had done all day.

"Still, they will all learn eventually."

Davos did not know how Stannis could be so sure. "The servants will, my lord, but..." Davos trailed off, not certain he should finish his trail of thought. Stannis finished it for him.

"The knights and lords as well. Unfortunately, they suffer from slower memories."

They reached a landing, walked through a door to reach another spiral staircase leading deeper on down into the castle. As they descended, the sounds from the portion of the castle that was awake and working grew more and more distant till the only sounds were their own footfalls echoing softly off the stone steps. The staircase was dark, but as they passed through a shaft of pale blue light from a window, Davos realized that Stannis for once did not have blue black shadows under his eyes.

"You've slept well, my lord?" Davos asked genuinely. It had to be genuine otherwise Stannis wouldn't have deemed such a question worthy of an answer.

"If it matters yes, very well. Now that I have my rooms to myself again," Stannis replied stiffly, flexing his shoulders. He seemed to hesitate before continuing, "I arranged yesterday for the woman to have her own room, and it's much better. For her, as well as for me." He paused again, and Davos was unsurprised to hear the familiar sound of teeth grinding as Stannis seemed to chew over his next words. When Davos still didn't say anything he ploughed on, "It was impossible to sleep having to share a bed with her. When she thought I was awake she would lie on the edge cringing, and when she thought I was asleep she would start clinging to me. Just awful."

Davos remained silent. He didn't know how Stannis Baratheon would react to married life, but Davos had thought, or rather hoped, that having a wife would make him happy. As happy as Marya had made him. Well, that was a flight of fantasy, but happier at least. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the opposite was more true. Having a wife was just another on the long list of unpleasant duties to be attended to in the life of Stannis Baratheon.

Davos was on the verge of saying something, he didn't know exactly what, when Stannis got there first, "I know what you are thinking."

"I'm not sure you do, my lord."

"You are thinking that this is not how things are between you and your own wife."

"It's not, no," Davos said simply, "With Marya I never prefer to sleep alone."

Stannis rewarded that with a snort, "Sentimental Davos. Sentimental as always."

"... At least I'm not naïve."

Too late, Davos realised he'd just put his foot in on the wrong side of impertinence. Clearly an afterthought, he added, "my lord," as if that would help. Perhaps it did, as Stannis let the remark pass with a mere sideways glance. A long sideways glance.

Stannis resumed, "Perhaps, after several years... it may be like that. But, not now. Certainly, not now. Besides a man and wife can do their duty without having to sleep in the same bed every night, can they not?"

Impertinence was sometimes addictive, "Yes... but that is all she'll give you, my lord."

"Which is fine, as that is all I need from her."

That ended the discussion. They continued on into the darker depths of the castle, and as there was nothing more either had to say on the subject, they said no more. They enjoyed the silence.

Finally, they reached the very windowless bottom of the staircase, ending in nothing more than a wall and a single wooden door. Stannis unlatched the door and walked through, Davos close behind, into a cool salt breeze.

Through the door was a few meters of dusty red rock tunnel, low enough to make Stannis stoop, that opened out right onto the cliff, dug out perhaps a third of the way up. At the opening, if you looked back and up you could see the weathered cliff face reaching up and up till it met the Red Keep towering above. If you looked down you could see a steep and rocky trail, so faint it barely deserved to be called a path, winding its way down to a small stretch of unspoilt beach, walled in on either side by the cliff face, possibly the only one like it in all of King's Landing. And if you looked straight ahead, as Davos and Stannis did then, you saw the sea stretching out to meet the cool blue of the horizon and the red sun above it, rising ever so slowly through clouds shaped like purple ploughed furrows.

It didn't matter how many times Davos had seen a sunrise out on the ocean; it never failed to take his breath away.

Out of the corner of his eye Davos watched as Stannis stood gazing out to sea, his frown lines smooth, jaw unclenched and shoulders loose. He looked relaxed. He looked young. He looked as if Robert, the small council, Dragonstone, King's Landing, Westeros, and now Selyse, had all just rolled off of his back to leave him just a man alone with the sea. Davos knew what that was like. He felt it too.

As the sun rose higher turning from red to orange to gold, they started descending the rocky, near vertical path down to reach the beach. After a bit of scrambling, they made it onto the sand and breathed in the salt fresh air, lapping at their faces and filling their lungs. Again, they stood still, alone but for themselves, watching the sea tumbling rough before them.

"It will be cold this morning," Davos said.

"All the better." Almost eagerly, Stannis began to pull his shirt off over his head, revealing white skin underneath. Davos followed suit, shirt, boots and breeches all thrown off in a pile on the beach. Davos smiled at the familiar sensation of sand between his toes as they ran to the water's edge.

The water wasn't cold, it was like ice. Davos gasped as it swirled up around his waist. Further out Stannis plunged straight in without hesitation, disappearing in a wave. Davos waded further in, the sea lapping further and further up his stomach until finally he leapt forwards letting himself be swallowed up by the sea. It filled every part of him, every crevice of his body with the cold and the salt. He kicked and broke the surface, cleansed. The lords, the court, King's Landing, it was all washed away, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the sea, and the sea was home.

Up ahead Davos could see Stannis' broad back as he crashed through another wave. When the same wave came to Davos, he turned onto his back and allowed himself to slide up and over, just breaking the surf at the top to slide down to the other side. He did the same again with the next wave and the next. But, as if the sea didn't like Davos being too at one with her waters, it surged forth a sheer wall of wave for Davos to slide halfway up on his back before being sucked down and swallowed up. A rush of sea water seemed to pass right through him, till he was spat out to the calm of the other side.

"I thought onions were meant to float!" Stannis shouted back, before he himself crashed through another wave.

"They do, for the most part." Davos swam out to him, following Stannis as he tried to do lengths of the beach. The sea that morning, however, was too rough to allow it, pushing them back against the beach. Eventually, and for Stannis it was a long eventually, they yielded to the sea, and contented themselves to swim straight ahead through the waves. They crashed through them together, the cold deep waters of the sea caressing their bodies, and purging them free.

After a happily long while, Davos realised that Stannis had stopped to tread water, the deep frown returned as he looked back over Davos' head to the cliffs. Davos turned to see what he was looking at to find that they were no longer alone. A figure was watching them from the top of the cliffs.

"We should go back," Stannis said, uncomfortably. Davos nodded.

Sated, refreshed, exhilarated, they clambered out of the water back onto the beach to where they had left their clothes. With eyes red from the salt and the new sun drying their backs, they were braced for another day at King's Landing.

While Stannis dried his face on his shirt, rubbing at his already thinning Baratheon black hair, Davos pushed his own mop of wet brown hair out of his face, and began stretching out his arms after the swim. He stretched his left arm first, over his shoulder and behind his back, holding it for a few seconds before starting on his right.

It was then he glanced over at Stannis to find blue eyes regarding him steadily. Intent blue eyes that, unless Davos was very much mistaken, had been wandering silently down Davos and slowly back up again when they had been caught. Stannis promptly pulled his shirt on over his head, covering his expression, while Davos couldn't stop a lopsided smile appearing on his face.

"You know, they say no man looks even half formidable with his breeches off."

Clearly not knowing what to make of that, an obvious red flush burning across his cheeks, Stannis bent down awkwardly to the pile of clothes and tossed Davos his breeches before pulling on his own. Davos caught the breeches deftly and obediently put them on without another word. After all, there was only so much impertinence that even Davos could get away with for one morning. The small lopsided smile still lingering, Davos pulled on his shirt and picked up his boots. He held them, one in each hand, not ready to stop enjoying the feel of the sand beneath his feet just yet.

Equally wordless and seeming to resolutely pretend that Davos had stayed silent, Stannis briskly pulled on his left boot, then his right. Finally, he stood tall, clothed and once more formidable, with a face of steel that once again seemed incapable of superfluous emotions, least of all blushing. Davos knew better. To an outside observer, Stannis' expression had reformed to one of grim, determined duty. But, if you knew the lord of Dragonstone well, and Davos dared to think he was one of the privileged few, you would recognise the slight crinkles forming around the corners of his otherwise straight mouth line revealing that Stannis Baratheon was, for this small moment at least, very much content.

"Time to go back, my onion knight."

"To break the fast, my lord?"

"Deservedly so."

Together they began to make their way back up the beach to the cliff, to the Red Keep, to Robert's court and the problems of the realm.