"Edric was my father's great shame, and your father's glory," Shireen had told Devan once, in the dark days before her cousin's return from exile.
Dark days that in retrospect, would begin to look more and more like the calm before a storm. But only in retrospect. At the time, Shireen's conviction was the only light there was, shining so brightly that it blinded Devan to anything else. Edric's return would be their salvation, she insisted. Edric was the sin they all shared, the four of them, the only Baratheon and Seaworth still living.
"But even that glory did not last long," she continued. "Your father smuggled Edric away to save his life, but returned to serve the man who was going to burn an innocent child. Edric was your friend - yes, he was, he thought of you as a friend, he told me so more than once – yet you refused to believe what my father had planned for Edric for the longest time, out of loyalty. Edric is my cousin, my friend as well, yet here I sit, the Crown Princess, heir to the Iron Throne, as if I have any right to it at all."
She did not mention her father's sin. She did not have to.
Shireen had learned to judge harshly. The people she loved, even herself; but most of all, her father.
Devan grieved for her, for the child who died the day he and Lady Melisandre had dragged her, kicking and screaming, from her dying mother's side.
"Take her away. Take her to her father," Queen Selyse had commanded. Even mortally wounded, blood pouring from her side, she had sounded as haughty as ever.
"We will go together, my queen," Lady Melisandre had pleaded. "There are ways. I … I have it seen it done."
Ways to bring back the dead, Devan understood later.
"But you have not done it yourself?" Selyse had not waited for Melisandre's answer. "There is no time! They must be scouring the castle looking for her now. My daughter must be kept safe, do you understand? She is heir to the rightful king. You will take her to her father at once." She turned to Shireen and kissed her daughter's cheek. "Lady Melisandre will keep you safe, until you find your father." With her rapidly dwindling strength, Selyse pushed Shireen away. "Take her. I hear them coming!"
They escaped death that day, the three of them, while countless others were not as lucky, in the ensuing battle and confusion after Lord Commander Snow was betrayed by his own sworn brothers. But Lady Melisandre was the only one who truly lived after that day.
When Shireen's constant effort behind her father's back finally paid off and Edric was found, it was Devan's father who made the loudest objection to Edric being welcomed back from exile.
"Why? You were the one who smuggled him away to save his life. He has done nothing wrong! You of all people should know that." Those were the words coming out of Shireen's mouth, but her face was shouting something else. Betrayal. She saw Davos' objection as a betrayal. How could you? I thought I could count on your support.
"I did it because he was an innocent boy, my princess," Davos said gently, trying to catch Shireen's eyes.
"And he's not innocent now?"
"He is a man who will bring countless complications to the realm." There was no need for Davos to say more.
"Edric is a bastard," Shireen pointed out.
"Yes, but the late King Robert acknowledged Edric as his bastard," Davos replied.
"Acknowledged, but did not legitimize," Devan said. His father gave him a sharp glance. Devan looked down in shame. Forgive me, Father.
"If some people are truly bent on rebellion, they would be willing to say anything. Malicious rumors are already floating around that King Robert, on his deathbed, aware of the fact that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were not his children, had secretly legitimized Edric," Davos continued.
"It is terrible how some people are willing to say and do almost anything to win the throne, isn't it?" Shireen's tone was chilling.
But Shireen got her way in the end. Devan did not know what she had said to her father to convince him, but she got her way and Edric was brought back from exile and welcomed in the Red Keep.
Edric was the spark who brought warmth to the icy coldness that had descended between father and daughter long before Stannis Baratheon won his throne. Edric was also the only one who could make Shireen smile - something she had not done since the day her mother died. Edric with his easy charm and his good temper, with his stories about his exciting adventures during exile, all recounted joyfully and without any resentment for the reason behind that exile, seemingly.
"We are going to marry, Edric and I," Shireen confided to Devan. "It … it will be a fitting end, after everything."
He was not certain what she meant by 'a fitting end.' Devan smiled, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. It is a good thing, he told himself. Edric makes her happy.
And he made her forget. Devan always made her remember.
But there were times when Devan saw a different, darker side to Edric. The man who was not smiling as he asked Devan why he did not resent Stannis for his entire family - except his father -dying for Stannis' cause.
"My older brothers were killed by the Joffrey's wildfire. My mother and younger brothers died of greyscale, brought to Westeros by the follower of another usurper trying to gain the throne. I have no reason to resent King Stannis," Devan replied. "Do you … do you resent the king for what happened to you?" He asked Edric, after a long pause.
Edric quickly laughed. "Of course not. Water under the bridge, my friend. And in any case, I am alive, am I not? That is more than we can say for so many others."
To his sorrow, Devan's father had been right after all. Edric had asked for Shireen's hand in marriage, and the king had refused. "Be patient," Shireen had told him. "Father will give in, in the end. He always does for me. He owes me that, he feels." But Edric had not listened to her pleas. He brought men to storm the castle and to depose the king instead, declaring himself the late King Robert's true heir.
It was a futile plot from the start; Edric had nowhere near enough supporters for one. And Andrew Estermont, the man who had been Edric's guardian, his only family and friend during his long exile, had betrayed him to King Stannis. "I could not make him understand," Estermont had said with sorrow. "He refuses to see the complete folly of what he is about to do. There has been enough bloodshed, enough deaths."
He never meant to succeed, Devan finally understood. Edric never wanted the throne. What he wanted was revenge. Revenge for his long exile. Revenge for the fire that would have consumed him if Davos Seaworth had not defied his king. Revenge for Cortnay Penrose, the castellan of Storm's End who had been his true father as a boy growing up at Storm's End. Revenge for Renly Baratheon, the uncle who did not always remember that he had a nephew living under his roof, but at least had agreed to foster his brother's bastard, unlike Stannis who had told Robert the child was better off dead.
He told the king all this, and more, while holding a sword to Shireen's throat.
"Kill me, then. If it is revenge you want," the king had said.
Edric had laughed. "Why would I kill a man with one foot in the grave? I want you to suffer! To watch as I carve your daughter's throat, the last of your family. The only person you ever come close to loving, the man who loves no one at all."
Sword on sword. Sword on flesh, Devan's and Edric's. The last thing Devan remembered was the sound of Shireen screaming.
He woke up with his father sitting by his bedside. "The princess. And the king. Are they –"
"They are both safe," his father reassured Devan at once.
"Edric?"
Davos shook his head. "Rest, my son. You need it." Devan fell asleep to his father singing the lullaby Marya Seaworth had sung to her sons, when they were young boys.
When Devan woke up next, the king had taken his father's place. He looked frail, as if he had not slept in days. His hands tried to tidy up the blanket covering Devan, but they shook so horribly.
Devan had remembered more of what transpired in the throne room that day. He remembered Shireen holding Edric in her arms, blood pouring from his chest.
"I thought we could love each other enough to erase the hatred in my heart. But it turns out I will always hate your father more than I could ever love you. Maybe if you had been another man's daughter …"
Devan did not remember Shireen's reply.
"Thank you," the king said stiffly. "For saving my daughter. She is … she is the only one … the only …" his voice broke. He stood up hastily, said his farewell without looking at Devan. "Rest, and get well quickly. Your father has been sick with worry."
Shireen would not thank me, Devan thought. I killed the man she loved.
Shireen came to see him two days later.
"I am sorry," that was the first thing he said to her.
She did not say – you have nothing to be sorry.
She took his hand. "You are forgiven," she whispered.
"You loved him." It was not a question he was asking her.
She looked uncertain. "I wanted to heal him. I thought … I thought if I could do that, perhaps I could heal myself as well. We were two damaged souls who would be of no use to anyone else, but perhaps we could be of use to each other, that's what I thought." So she had always seen the darkness in Edric too, the anger and the sorrow simmering underneath. Shireen paused for a long time, her hand still holding on to Devan's. "So you see, I was using him too," she finally said.
"He was using you to gain revenge on your father," Devan said.
"And I was using him to pay for my father's sins. Who's to say which one of us is the worse betrayer?"
"You didn't try to kill him," Devan pointed out.
"I might not have meant to. But I killed him nonetheless. If I had not insisted on finding him, if I had not forced my father to bring him back from exile, Edric would still be alive." She was as certain of this as she was about the sun rising in the east. She was as merciless on herself as she had been on her father.
"My princess, Edric made his own choices. He –"
"I have to marry. Soon," she interrupted Devan abruptly. "Edric's failed rebellion has been giving some people ideas. Uncle Robert had other bastards. I must marry and produce an heir. A son. That is the only way to secure the throne and prevent more bloodshed."
Devan waited. For his heart to break. Again.
"I would not ask this of you if I thought you already have a woman you wanted to wed. But you wanted to be in the Kingsguard. I assume that meant there is no one," Shireen said.
This? What was she asking him to do?
"You are the only man I can trust, Devan. My oldest friend. My only friend for a long time," she continued. "But if there is a woman –"
"No, there isn't," Devan replied quickly.
"No one, Devan?"
Only one. Only you.
"No, my princess. No one."
"Shireen. You better start calling me Shireen, if we are to marry."
Her name, when he finally said it, was an invocation, a prayer to the gods he had long ceased to believe.