Inspired by "The Song of the Seven" Sam sang to Gilly in A Storm of Swords. (You can find the song at the end of Chapter 1)
"Your son Dale will go south in Wraith, past Cape Wrath and the Broken Arm, all along the coast of Dorne as far as the Arbor. Each of you will carry a chest of letters, and you will deliver one to every port and holdfast and fishing village. Nail them to the doors of septs and inns for every man to read who can." (A Clash of Kings).
"Dale would never give his wife the child they had prayed for." (A Storm of Swords)
Basically Dale stopped by at Cape Wrath after delivering Stannis' letters, to visit his mother, his wife and his two little brothers. Hey it's fanfic ; )
Chapter 1/7: Dale Seaworth
The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife,
Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children
There she was, Mother, his mother, not the Mother Above, waiting for him on the shore of Cape Wrath with Steff and Stanny standing by her side, the two boys waving excitedly at the ship. Dale waved back, his eyes searching for another person he thought would be there. She was nowhere in sight. His wife.
There was more grey in Mother's hair, and her ample flesh seemed to have shrunk since the last time Dale saw her. She was still a plump woman, but when they embraced, Dale could feel rattling bones in places where he had never felt them before.
"Have you been ill, Mother?" Dale asked with alarm. Father had not said anything, but Dale knew it was not unheard of for his mother to conceal what she considered 'troublesome news'from her husband, when he was away from home.
Marya shook her head, trying to reassure her eldest son. "It's only the boys running me ragged," she said, smiling, her left hand brushing Steff's hair and the right one squeezing Stanny's shoulder.
"We haven't been naughty," Steff piped up, with all the solemnity a six-year-old could muster.
"We promised Father we would be good," Stanny said gravely. "Mother is worried about Father. And you and Allard –"
"- and Matthos and Maric and Devan too," Steff interrupted. "Has Devan grown tall? I've grown five finger lengths since you last saw me. Stanny's grown only three," he announced proudly, showing the numbers with his fingers.
"Devan has grown, but not as much as you have, Steff," Dale reassured his youngest brother. "He has grown a beard too. Well, Devan calls it a beard and he's very proud of it, but it's still more a fuzz really, at this stage."
"I'm sure it will grow into a proper beard soon," Stanny said loyally.
A fuzzthat would have shamed a proper peach, Dale had thought, but never mentioned to Devan, for fear of inadvertently hurting his feelings. The boy was very solemn and earnest, thoughtful and serious far beyond his years.
"Devan reminds me so much of you, at that age," his father had told Dale, not long age.
Dale nodded. "I can see the physical resemblance." Dale and Devan had the same fly-away brown hair, the same average looks. Neither of them had Allard's more striking features, or Maric's playful smile and eyes that always seemed to be almost winking, even when he was being entirely serious.
"Yes, that, but I was not only talking of physical appearance," Davos replied. He had not explained further, and Dale did not want to pry, so they had left it at that.
The last time Dale saw Steff and Stanny had been almost a year ago, when he sent his wife to Cape Wrath just before Stannis Baratheon closed the port at Dragonstone. Lord Stannis was preparing for war, some men whispered. Lord Stannis was preparing for Dragonstone to be attacked, others muttered darkly. Dale had not known which was the truth, but he knew that Dragonstone was no longer a safe place for his wife.
Dina had not wanted to leave, had wished to stay by her husband's side. "Lord Stannis has not sent his own wife and daughter away. The danger, whatever it is, must not be imminent," she pointed out to her husband.
"Lady Selyse and Lady Shireen are staying in a castle guarded day and night by armed men. It is not the same for us," Dale replied. In the end, Dina gave in when Dale spoke of his concern about his mother and his brothers at Cape Wrath, and his wish that Dina could be of some comfort and help to them during these uncertain times.
Dale was relieved that Dina was no longer at Dragonstone. The sight of the Seven burning would have distressed his devout wife, who lit candles and prayed to each of the seven gods every morning, even the Stranger. It had distressed Dale and his brothers too, and their father as well, even though Allard had been the only one who had spoken loudly of it. "It is an ill thing to burn the Seven," Allard had said, too loudly and too brashly.
"When did you grow so devout? What does a smuggler's son know of the doings of the gods?" Davos Seaworth had chided his second son.
Allard had muttered something about being a knight's son. Dale recalled the time when he, Allard, Matthos and Maric, smuggler's sons all, had prayed fervently to the Mother in her mercy to keep their smuggler father safe from harm, and to the Crone to light her shining lamp and guide Davos Seaworth home to his wife and his sons.
Unlike Allard, however, Dale had learned from an early age to guard his tongue better, and to keep most of his rebellious thoughts to himself.
"This is a dangerous time," Father had said to Dale later, when the two of them were alone. "We must all be careful. Very careful. Not just with our deeds, but our words as well."
There was no need for his father to say more. Their thoughts, Dale's and Davos', were both turned towards Guncer Sunglass and Septon Barre, currently languishing in Stannis Baratheon's dungeon. And towards Maester Cressen's sadder fate, his punishment for daring to cross the red woman and her red god. Davos Seaworth had few friends among the highborn lords and knights of Dragonstone who thought him an upjumped nobody who did not deserve his place of honor in Lord Stannis' confidence. Many of those men would love nothing more than to cause trouble for Davos, or failing that, for one of his sons.
"I will speak to Allard, and remind him to be more judicious with his words," Dale promised his father. "But Father … Lord Stannis … he –"
"King Stannis, Dale. Mind that you remember it always." His father's loyalty to Stannis Baratheon was steadfast, unshaken even by the display they had seen this very morning. But his father's next words surprised Dale. "It is not the gods they were burning this morning, only wood carvings. Mother, Father, and the others, we keep them in our hearts still, they are watching over us still, and we can pray to them still, in our own time," Davos whispered to his son. "That is not something to be spoken loudly in front of others, of course," he warned Dale.
Dale nodded his understanding. His father was a man who had learned to make his way in the world the hard way from an early age, a man who knew how to survive while still never neglecting his duties and his responsibilities. It was the reason, Dale suspected, Davos Seaworth had chosen more than one badge for the Seaworth sigil - the black ship and the onion - to remind himself not only of where he was heading, but where he had come from, and the hard lessons he had learned about life along the way.
Dale wondered if he and his brothers had been a source of disappointment in some ways to his father, with their insistence, Allard especially, to forget about the days when they did not bear the Seaworth name, when they were a smuggler's sons and not a knight's sons.
No, not a source of disappointment, Dale thought. That was not Father's way with his children. But perhaps a source of worry and sadness, perhaps even despair, which was even worse in Dale's mind.
Forgive us, Father.
And Mother too, Mother who had spent most of her life worrying about her sons.
His mother's words rang in Dale's ears. "If you are not willing to face the heartache, then you should not be having children at all." Marya Seaworth, as kind and gentle as she was, was not the type of woman to mince her words, especially with her four grown sons.
Dina was waiting for Dale in the sept. She was kneeling in front of the Mother's altar, praying silently. She turned when she heard his footsteps entering the sept. For a while, the two of them were motionless, standing still, looking at each other like two shy people who were courting for the very first time. Dale's feet made the first move, Dina's followed soon after, and suddenly they were in each other's embraces. She kissed him, this husband she had not seen for almost a year. Dale responded with enthusiasm, but then he remembered where they were.
"Not here. I can feel them watching," he whispered.
"The gods, you mean?"
Dale nodded.
"But the gods are always watching. Here and everywhere."
"Yes, but … I don't want them to watch … you know," Dale blushed.
"Dale Seaworth! If you think I mean to do anything more than kiss my husband in the sept …"
"No, no," Dale said hastily, but his protestation was cut short by the sound of his wife's laughter. He laughed too, remembering the girl he had known in Flea Bottom who had delighted in teasing him, delighted in making him blush. He had married the woman that girl had grown into, two years and two moons ago. They had prayed and prayed to the Mother for a child, a son or a daughter, it mattered not a whit to Dale and Dina; they would have loved and treasured the child regardless, the gift of life given to them. They were still waiting for that child. The long separation certainly had not helped matters.
"You must speak to your mother first," Dina said decisively. "She has been sick with worry. We have been hearing so many rumors since the king's death."
"Lord Stannis is the king now," Dale said.
"King Robert's brother inheriting the throne over his own son Prince Joffrey?"
"They are not his children. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, they were not sired by the late King Robert."
"Well, then, who is the father?" Dina asked, then changed her mind. "Let's find Mother and you can explain everything to us both."
When he had done so, had explained as best as he could the basis for Stannis Baratheon's claim to the throne, his mother and his wife said nothing for a long time. The two women exchanged glances, glances that Dale could not interpret.
"Can Lord Stannis show any proof for this incest?" His mother finally asked, her eyes looking not at Dale, but at the piece of embroidery her fingers were busy working on.
"Do you doubt him, Mother?" Dale asked, and then instantly regretted doing so.
His mother, however, did not look offended. "It doesn't matter what I think. I'm not the one he has to convince," Marya said, her gaze finally lingering on her son. "Do they believe him, in the places you delivered Lord Stannis' letters?"
"It's hard to say. The smallfolks seemed to think it a nuisance, yet another lord declaring that the throne is his. And the men are worried about being forced to leave home and hearth to fight in a long, drawn-out war."
"And the women are worried about losing their husbands, sons, fathers and brothers, no doubt," Marya said.
"Yet another lord? Who else has claimed the throne besides Stannis Baratheon and Joffrey Baratheon?" Dina asked. "No, I suppose he would not be Joffrey Baratheon,truly."
"Renly Baratheon," Dale replied.
"Now that is nonsense,"Marya said, setting down the embroidery on her lap. "I do not know much about the business of laws and inheritance, and even less about kings and thrones, but I do know this – an older brother inherits before the younger, and that is how it has always been, for highborns and lowborns alike."
"Lord Renly has already commanded the support of the Stormlands and the Reach," Dale said.
"He has a lot more men than Lord Stannis, then? And yet Lord Stannis still means to press his claim?" Dina asked, horrified. "Wouldn't it be … suicidal? How many of Lord Stannis' men will die in his attempt to take the throne?"
Dale had no reply to that, no reassurances he could give his wife, or his mother. "The gods will protect us," he wished he could say, but he doubted even that now, after they had burned the Seven and turned their backs on the faith of their forefathers. "R'hllor will protect us," sounded even more alien to his tongue, and even less believable to his own ears.
"We owe King Stannis our loyalty, after everything he has given us," Dale finally said, the only thing he still believed to any considerable degree.
Dina excused herself, to check on the boys, she claimed, but Dale knew she was trying to hide her tears. Dale made a move to follow her, but his mother cleared her throat and shook her head.
"Give her a few moments to herself," Marya said. "She has so little time to spend with her husband before you have to leave again. The last thing she would have wanted is for you to see her crying and in despair." Mother spoke as if she knew that very well from her own experience, Dale thought.
Dale obeyed his mother and stayed seated. Mother and son sat together in companionable silence for a while, before Dale hesitantly opened his mouth. "Mother?"
"Yes?"
If I do not make it home alive, will you watch over Dina as if she were your own daughter?
But at the moment just before he spoke the words, Dale knew there was no need for him to ask that of his mother, that she would have done so without him ever having to ask.
"Will you sing The Song of the Sevenfor me, like you used to when we were boys?" He asked her instead.
His mother smiled. "Aren't you too old for that? Stanny said he is now too old to need a song before bedtime. He wants stories about glorious adventures instead. I still sing it for Steff once in a while."
"I'm never too old for your song," Dale replied, returning her smile.
She started singing, her voice barely above a whisper at first.
The Father's face is stern and strong, he sits and judges right from wrong. He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children.
When his mother paused to take a breath, Dale sang the next verse.
The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children.
They sang the rest of the song together, their voices rising and falling in unison.
The Warrior stands before the foe, protecting us where e'er we go,
With sword and shield and spear and bow, he guards the little children.
The Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold,
She lifts her lamp of shining gold, to lead the little children.
The Smith, he labors day and night, to put the world of men to right,
With hammer, plow, and fire bright, he builds for little children.
The Maiden dances through the sky, she lives in every lover's sigh,
Her smiles teach the birds to fly, and give dreams to little children.
The Seven Gods who made us all, are listening if we should call,
So close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children,
Just close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children.