His eyes were closed, or were they open and it was night? He blinked, hard and fast, but he saw nothing but the pain, deep red walls of it, lightning in his veins and eyes straining and seeing nothing.
He made as if to raise himself on an elbow. He must find his men. He must. ...
He could not move.
Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, lay on a bed of branches and broken bones, half on his side and half on his back, blinded and shrouded by blood and loss. He felt his breaths coming slow, slower - This is the end, then - he had seen it often enough.
Stannis Baratheon, Westeros' king, lay in muck wet with gore and thought of his daughter - sweet smile sad eyes skin of grey and powder - Shireen, so much stronger than she ever looked. First her mother had gone and then her best friends, one after the other, bastard and fool and knight in waiting, the son who would be a lord. The eldest son, the fourth of seven.
Is it an answer to a child's riddle...?
A Hand without fingers, a voice that could not be mistaken - everything blurred together for Stannis now, bleary dull ache in his chest where his heart should have been, if he had had one. They all said I did not have one, he would have laughed if he could have drawn breath to do so, all but one.
And oh, that one.
All I want, whispered Stannis Baratheon, first of his name. It was an incantation, a prayer for something that could not be, a dying wish. All I want, rolling over into the dead ground. The mangled fingers on his, the low tones and the warm expression of the admiral without ships, the hand of the king without a kingdom.
"You have always told me the truth, Davos," and Stannis was surprised to hear his own voice, aloud and rustling. "But lie now. Tell me you are here, Davos. Tell me you are with me in my last hour."
It was impossible, the lie he had asked for.
"I am here, Your Grace." The prayer that made things true, Stannis marveled. He had asked and someone had answered.
"Davos?" He reached out with a ghost hand, searching for a ghost.
"Your Grace. Stannis." So full, Stannis thought. Davos' voice was always saying more than it said out loud. Now it spoke volumes.
"Davos," he said again; it seemed to be the only word his fading wits could conjure up. Take care of her, take care of your boys, take care of me. Take me to our castle, take me to your room, take me to your bed, to your arms. Bring me to the heavens, because you are the only one who ever could. "Davos."
"Yes," Davos answered, for surely if it was not he then Stannis was already dead and surrounded, enfolded, and this was enough. "I'm afraid it's over, Stannis. And I- and I must go on without you."
No, not without me. You are coming with me, you have always been with me.
"And you go to a hero's death. But know this, Stannis. My king." Davos' hand tightened on Stannis', and his voice seemed to catch. "I have always been with you. I have always loved you ... I have." Stannis felt something damp on his face, the rain ... "Stannis. I have. I do."
"Davos," he said, futile, helpless. With all his strength he squeezed the hand that held his; felt the shortened fingers. Drew the hand closer to his chest, to where his heart was, it was. It is.
"They say they found him in the forest, bleeding from a thousand wounds, with that shorthanded Onion Knight slumped over him."
"Looked just as full of piss as usual, I expect. Never could get that man to smile."
"Well, that's the funny part, Aly. They said the Onion Knight looked like he'd been dragged through all seven hells. Starved, ashy, wouldn't speak. But about King Stannis - it's passing strange. They said the king looked ... it can't be. But they said when they uncovered his face, he looked almost calm. Stopped that teeth grinding and all. Peaceful, they said."
"Then it mustn't have been Stannis," the warrior woman chuckled. "Nothing could make him peaceful, even death."
"War does strange things to men. War and death and starvation. I'm just telling you what the boys said. 'We took a look at his face,' my son told me, 'and I swear on the Mother's milk and the Maiden's teats and the Warrior's sword - Stannis Baratheon was happy.'"