Not Ever

Something was terribly wrong. As Ser Davos marched back towards Castle Black, he could feel something in the air. Not just the excruciating cold, making the breath in his lungs feel like daggers. Not just the dishonour of being sent away by his lord like a whipped dog. No. It was something different. Something he could not quite explain.

The men in his company were bemused when he tried to do so. He urged them to continue and said he would return. He didn't give them an explanation - he was Hand of the True King, after all. Maybe they thought he deemed this march below him.

He didn't give a damn what they thought. As he rode South back to Lord Stannis' camp, that inexplicable heaviness blanketed him like the eternal snow. He could not shake the feeling that his lord needed him. He needed him at his side far more than traipsing through this wasteland back the way they came.

But as he approached the scattering of tents, he realised it was not his lord who needed him. Not his lord, who he would have served with his life, but someone else just as dear.

Her frightened cries echoed across the wilderness. Davos had tried to convince Stannis to let him take her with him. This space of freezing desolation was no place for a little princess. Now he realised why he had refused his request.

The witch had got into his head again. No. She had gone too far this time.

Heart thudding, Davos kicked his horse into the camp. He followed the child's shouts through the abandoned streets, the world a white blur around him. None stopped him. They had all left their posts, no doubt called by their king and the priestess to watch this barbaric ritual.

Not even his deepest fears could have prepared him for what he saw. Hundreds of soldiers, men who he had broken bread with many a time, standing idly around the pyre. Melisandre brandishing a flaming torch, spouting her prayers in the haze of the fire. Stannis, Selyse heeding her lies. And the little girl, precious Shireen, lashed to the sacrificial wood. It began to blaze as Melisandre touched it.

Shireen screamed for her father, for her mother. But they did not move. Not a soul came forward, not daring to defy their orders.

In an instant, Davos knew, for the girl, he would betray all the kings in the world.

With a shout, he plunged into the fray. His horse scattered the bystanders, barrelling through them all. No guard, not even King Stannis himself, could stand in his way. Melisandre was knocked backwards, landing feet away from the flames. Davos, fearless in his devotion, charged through a gap in the fire. Loosing his sword, he sliced the ties about the girl. Her terrified face, marred by greyscale but by far the most beautiful sight the old knight had ever laid eyes upon, peered up at him. Wasting not a second more, he pulled her onto the horse.

It was over in moments. Shireen clutched onto him and together, they dashed from the pyre, now engulfed in flames. When they were safely away, she turned and buried her head into his chest. "I didn't think I'd see you again -" she began.

"Ssh, now," Davos soothed. "You are safe now, little princess. I won't let them hurt you. Not ever."


What happened to Shireen in Episode 9 was completely uncalled for. I'm so done with Stannis right now. I wanted to write an alternative happy ending for her and Davos ~ :)

Thank you for all the reviews and faves/follows! I can't reply to guest reviews but I just wanted to thank you for them, and in answer to one question, I intended this as a one-shot, but I may do some more Game of Thrones fanfiction.

Feedback always appreciated c: