Davos had left Rickon Stark and his wolf in Lord Manderly's care. The lord of White Harbour had promised to send his army to King Stannis as quickly as possible, and to rally the other Northern lords to his cause. He had also told Davos of the impending battle for Winterfell and given him twenty of his own guardsmen as an escort when the Onion Knight made for the North in all haste.
Yet when Davos reached Winterfell, the battle was already over.
As his small company rode towards the castle, he saw the flaming heart flying over the keep, and felt relieved. Stannis had done it, he had defeated the Boltons and taken Winterfell!
I wonder if Devan is still alive.
The thought came unbidden but not unexpected; he had worried about his son ever since he had heard that Stannis was marching. Absentmindedly, he reached for the pouch he had used to wear around his neck. It hadn't been there for a while now, yet Davos was still always trying to touch it for luck.
I guess I'll find out about Devan very soon now.
He was afraid of this conversation but he also looked forward to seeing Stannis again, speaking with him. And he believed that the king would have tried keep his boy safe, and that served to keep his fear from getting too great.
But as they approached the castle, the mood among Stannis' soldiers was somber.
Is this what victory feels like?
He wouldn't know: The only battle he had ever fought in had been on the Blackwater, and that they had lost.
Along with four of my sons, and thousands of good men.
This victory had been a hard-fought one, he could see it from the piles of corpses that had not yet been buried or burned. The survivors were mourning for their fallen.
War is not like the songs would have us believe, even when we win.
It was not long until a group of knights discovered them and escorted him and his twenty guards to Winterfell. Davos told them who he was, and had to show them his shortened fingers to prove his identity. He was sure that some of Stannis' men had to know him by sight but apparently none of those was at hand. They had all thought him dead, he knew; Lord Manderly had seen to that.
The knights didn't seem to be in a rejoicing mood any more than the rest of Stannis' army, but they told him that Devan had been left at the Wall, for which he was duly grateful, although he wondered what the reason for that might have been. He didn't think he could have beared losing another son.
When they were convinced that he was indeed the King's Hand, he asked them to show him to King Stannis, because he had important news for him.
He has the North now. I took a while, but I brought him White Harbour.
He had tried his best to do his duty although it had taken him longer than expected.
…
When they first told him, he didn't believe them. Not his king, not Stannis, he was far too stubborn to stop fighting before he had what was rightfully his. You are wrong, he wanted to shout, You do not know him as I do! He couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it...
That was, until they showed him the body.
They had laid the king on his bed in his tent, outside the walls of the castle he had fought so hard to take. Davos fell on his knees beside him and he heard the guard who had lead him inside leave; whether it was to give him some privacy or because he simply didn't care Davos would never know, nor did he want to. All that counted was the man before him, the lord who had made him a knight, the king who had trusted his counsel.
He cannot be dead.
Stannis lay on his back, hands on his side, his expression as stern as it had been in life.
Davos moved his shaking maimed hand to his chest, where his fingerbones had been before he had lost them at the Blackwater.
A reminder of my king's justice. A reminder of the day one man changed my life...
He removed his hand from his empty chest and touched the fingers of his king instead, carefully, as if afraid to wake him. He felt like weeping, but the tears would not come.
Gods be good, don't let this be true.
Stannis still wore the armour he had died in and Davos could not see the wound of the sword that had entered his back. Yet he still knew it was there.
They said he died in the battle, only a few hours ago.
He died, and I wasn't with him.
To know he had come so close, so close to speaking to his king again, to fighting the battle by his side...
He believed me dead all this time, he had to. How I wish I could at least have told him that it was a trick, that I would come back, would always come back...
'Your Grace...' he he said quietly, hardly louder than a whisper.
Stannis didn't answer. He would never answer again.
'Your Grace, I'm... I'm back, I- I'm sorry, sorry I wasn't with you, I should've been here, I...'
he could feel his voice breaking. After a few deep breaths, he began again.
'Sire, you told me to bring you White Harbour, but I was too late, I couldn't... not in time... I am not fit to be a King's Hand, but I swear, I... I would have followed you through the Seven Hells and back had you commanded it.'
'There are no Seven Hells, ser knight.', he heard a familiar melodic voice behind him.
He stood up and spun around so hastily that he felt dizzy for a moment.
'You', he whispered.
He had not heard her enter the tent.
The Red Woman looked older than when he had last seen her. There were lines around her eyes and mouth that he could not remember seeing there before and her cheeks were hollow as if she had not eaten enough lately. Yet the fire in her eyes burned brightly as ever when she said
'There is only the domain of the great Other, that no flame nor fire can reach.'
Does she think i care about her damned religion?
'Why... why did you let that happen?', he asked her.
'You and your... and your fire god, why didn't you PROTECT HIM?' his voice was getting louder with every sentence.
'WHAT GOOD WAS YOUR PRECIOUS SHINING SWORD WHEN IT ENDS WITH HIM LYING HERE?' He was shouting now, but Melisandre was still not looking at him. Her eyes were directed at the bed, and Davos thought they looked... pained?
'I wasn't with him', she said, quietly.
Neither was I, he thought, when i should have been.
'You let him march into his death', he spat. When he said that word out loud, his vision was blurred with the tears he had not been able to shed before.
Stannis, he will never speak to me again...
And she knew, from her fires, and she let it happen.
He drew his dagger.
Melisandre didn't flinch away from the weapon. She didn't even seem to notice it. She was still looking at the king.
'Why did you... did you do it?' He wished his voice was steadier. And why were his eyes still so clouded?
'Why let him die?'
'I never wished him ill, lord Davos', she said, without looking at him. 'This wasn't my doing.'
Is that her argument? That she is only an 'instrument' of R'hllor?
I was right, that day in the sea. The Gods were right. I should have killed her.
Yet her God had warned her then, why not now...
He closed the distance between them, Dagger pointing at her chest.
'You will not kill me today, Onion Knight', she said, looking at him at last, with all the certainty in the world.
'Name me one good reason why I shouldn't.'
He trusted her, Stannis always trusted her, yet she betrayed him...
She leaned towards him, her chest touching his dagger, her lips close to his ear.
'Because I can bring him back.'
Just a whisper, yet it was enough to cause a tiny spark of hope Davos didn't dare to let grow bigger for fear of disappointment. Yet if she was telling the truth... he had seen her powers before, after all. And there had been stories of the red priest Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion, so perhaps it was possible...
He had unconsciously lowered his dagger and was now trying to pierce Melisandre with a glare instead.
It could all be a trick.
And if it was, he swore to himself that he would kill her. She had given him hope. If she had lied...
'If you did not wish him harm, how come you did not warn him of this march?'
'I do not know.' It was obviously difficult for her to say that. 'I did not know. I could not see him in my fires, not until three days ago. When I saw... I rode here without making rest once , but I was still too late.'
That would explain her wary appearence, but...
'How come you didn't see this in your fires before?'
'I do not know', she repeated. It was unsettling to see her like this, her who was usually sure of everything.
'Perhaps the northern tree gods were clouding R'hllors true will, perhaps this is a part of His plan. But Stannis is Azor Ahai reborn, and he has to save the world from the great enemy.'
This was hard for her too, he saw; she had failed protecting her king, and she did not even know what she had done wrong.
I have to believe her. It is my only hope of saving him.
He sheathed his dagger.
Melisandre took that as a sign to continue the conversation. 'The world cannot win this battle without Azor Ahai. Death is coming for everyone and everything; the darkness that will swallow the dawn. And we can stop it.'
'How can you bring him back, my lady?'
She smiled. 'R'hllor will bring him back. But the longer a body is dead, the more of his inner flames wander into the domain of the Other, who is Death and Cold and Darkness.'
Her smile had faded.
'If I were to bring him back now, he would not fully be here. Yet only the whole man is the Lord's Chosen, and only the Lord's Chosen can defeat the forces of the Great Enemy.'
He wasn't sure what she was trying to say.
'Not... fully be here?'
'There would be memories missing. Character traits.' She lowered her voice so that Davos had to strain to hear her words.
'A part of him is in the realm of darkness.'
After a pause, she continued.
'I can stop more of his fires leaving, and I can stop his body from losing its functions. But for that, I have to be here, with him.'
She paused to gently stroke Stannis' cheek with two fingers. When Davos saw the way she looked at him he could almost believe that she truly did not mean him harm.
'The part of his soul that is no longer in the light has to be recovered if we are to save the world from the coming darkness. For that, we need someone willing to wander past the veil of death itself, and we need someone willing to do that for Stannis Baratheon.'
She looked at him innocently.
'Do you know where we might find such person, lord Davos?'
It took Davos a few seconds to realise what she was implying, then he slowly inclined his head.
'I am his man, my lady.'