Hey all! This is my attempt to rectify the appalling act of betrayal that occurred in season 5. A little fluff, a little sadness, a little stone cold revenge. I do not own any rights. I'd love any reviews! I apologize in advance for any factual errors. I wrote this surrounded by maps with at least ten wiki pages open, but in such a complex universe, mistakes are bound to be made!
Chapter I: A Curse On The King
The Onion Knight never left the camp.
There was a time where Davos Seaworth would never have questioned an order from his King, never mind outright defied it. But that was before the Lady Melisandre made her fiery entrance and Davos had to sit idly by and watch while she twisted and bent his King's mind. He had retained a shred of hope that his King might not be lost to him right up until this morning. But Stannis had refused to listen to his trusted right-hand man, and ordered him away, despite his protests. And Davos knew then that he could no longer follow him. He meant something for Shireen, he knew he did. Something that the Lady Melisandre had put him up to. Davos loved that girl like a daughter, and having lost so many children of his own, nothing in the Seven Hells would make him turn his head whilst another was taken from him.
So, he settled himself in a tree about a mile from the camp's borders, as far up as he dared, his horse secured to the trunk. The winter air chilled him to his bones, and he had nothing but the clothes on his back to shelter him through however many days and nights he might be waiting. But he was not unused to the loss of superfluous appendages. Frostbite was the least of his concerns. He refused even to let himself sleep, waiting and watching for a sign that something was wrong, following all movement like a hawk.
He didn't have to wait long. Davos was hoping that Stannis would at least feel guilty enough to wait until he thought the Onion Knight was well and truly gone before acting, but no. The next morning, he watched as a crowd of black-clad men assembled, appearing as no more than a dark smudge. The Lady Melisandre was obvious enough, her red hair and gown like a bloodstain on the white snow. From this distance, neither Stannis nor Shireen were visible. Davos was itching to mount his horse and race towards the camp that very instant, but held himself back. What if this was no more than a morning of prayer? He would be no use to Shireen if he threw caution to the wind and ended up without a head. Nevertheless, he descended the tree rather clumsily and began to free his horse, walking guardedly through the trees, ears cocked for any sound of voices.
He was listening hard for the voice of Stannis or Melisandre, for an address to a waiting crowd, so when the scream shattered the silence, it caused Davos to jump a pace back in alarm.
"Shireen!" he yelled out, and then bit down hard on the fabric of his glove. It would do no good to be discovered now. Thankfully, and Davos felt his stomach twist at the sick irony, his shout had been drowned out by the girl's cries. Cries to her father, to her mother.
Save her, Davos beseeched Stannis as he vaulted onto his horse with some difficulty, In case I don't make it in time. Save her.
He kicked his horse into a swift gallop, trusting it to manoeuvre its own way through the trees as he was near to blinded with snow the horse disturbed with its hooves. He raised one hand to shield his eyes as they broke free from the cover of the forest and steered his mount towards the crowd. The screaming continued, and while it made Davos want to empty his stomach there and then to hear it, it at least meant that she was still alive. How much pomp and ceremony would surround the moments before her death? Her survival might all depend upon that. If the flames had been lit already, it would almost certainly be too late.
Not wanting to waste a second, he pulled his sword from his belt, and charged into the camp with it held aloft. Shireen's screams were still coherent. The words 'Please', and 'Father' were still finding their way to his ears. But as he wove around a snow covered tent, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of flame.
And then, he was upon the crowd, a sea of black. But they didn't stand a chance against his horse and his sword. He ran what might have been ten men down, killing at least four, decapitating one with his sword. Shireen looked up to meet his eyes, a scream catching in her throat, but not for long. The fire had been lit, licks of flame nipping at the hem of her dress. Her scream carried above the noise of the crowd and spurred Davos forward. The sword cut through the ropes binding her in an instant, and they fell to the mercy of the fire.
"Onion Knight!" Shireen leapt away from the stake towards Davos, tears streaked down her cheeks, flinging herself to the ground for a brief moment to stamp out the smoking fabric. As she took his hand to swing herself up onto his horse, the Lady Melisandre grabbed her foot.
"Ser Davos!" he heard Melisandre yell out to him "Ser Davos, stop! You know not what you do! The fate of your King rests on this child!" Rage blinding him, raised the sword still in his hand and threw it with all his might at Melisandre. It lodged in her chest. Could she die? Davos did not wait to find out.
"He is no longer my King," he growled at her as she fell back, releasing Shireen's foot "A curse on him. A curse on all who follow the Red God." He paused for one second longer to locate Stannis in the crowd, and shot him with a glare that would have made far more courageous men than him feel a twinge of fear in their hearts.
And he left what had anchored him to all of his beliefs, his God, his King, his friend, and with only the small, shaking, sobbing girl clinging to his back, cast himself adrift into wherever the stormy seas of chance might carry him.