Davos strode through the entrance of the King's tent, somewhat wearily, barely suppressing a yawn as he pushed the tent flap aside. The hour was late, past midnight, and Davos had been about to retire for bed, when a messenger had arrived at his tent, panting and red faced. He had informed Davos that the King had convened an urgent small council meeting, and that his presence was commanded immediately. Sighing, Davos had resigned himself to yet another sleepless night.
"Apologies my lords, for keeping you waiting" he addressed to the men in the tent. "Your grace" said Davos, as he bowed formally to Stannis. Impatiently, Stannis waved his hand to the seat next to him. "You are the King's Hand. We serve at your pleasure Lord Seaworth." called Lord Wyman Manderly jovially. The master of coin was seated next to a lean and wiry man, with a pox scarred face, a brown wispy beard and a widows peak. After the Others had been defeated, and Jon Snow had become King beyond the Wall, the Night's Watch had been dissolved, most of its brothers either dead or absorbed into King Stannis's army. Cotter Pyke had been one of those who had shown great ability and leadership during the war against the Others. King Stannis had made great use of his prowess and experience with naval warfare, and after the war, he had been the obvious candidate for the master of ships. Stannis did not deem it necessary to appoint a master of laws, believing that he would be personally responsible for all matters of justice in the realm
The other man was also lean and scar faced, and dark of hair and eyes. His surcoat bore three deaths head moths upon an ash and bone background. Ser Richard Horpe had been appointed Lord Commander of Stannis's Kingsguard, after saving his life for the second time during the battle of Winterfell. Whilst the four men differed in personality and views, they all shared one similarity. All of them were there for their ability, rather than birth. King Stannis had stated time and again that he cared little for the flattery and mummery of the highborn lords. Merit, not birth, was what mattered to their King. Indeed, three of them had not even been born into a house. A bastard pirate, a common born smuggler, a lowborn seasoned killer, and Lord too fat to sit a horse, the men who would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Whatever faults he had, King Stannis certainly had a sense of humour, albeit a cynical, self deprecating and often unintentional one.
Davos took his seat on the King's right hand side, and accepted the cup of slightly salted water Stannis offered him. "Ser Richard, your report first" barked the King. Ser Richard had personally led the raid on Daenerys' camp. The surviving raiders had returned earlier that evening, after leaving two nights earlier. "The raid was a success your grace. Their guards were exhausted from the cold, and could not see five feet. We snuck in under the cover of darkness, killing the guards. I sent twenty good men to douse the supply wagons and tents in oil and pitch. At midnight we started the fires, and launched our attack. We lost seventy men, no more. They'll have lost at least four hundred and near a third of the supply wagons. That many men and horses with the supplies they have?, in a snowstorm? The weather'll do the job for us your grace". Stannis nodded briefly, and his jaw loosened slightly, a sign Davos had learned to take positively. "We will make our preparations anyway. If I have learnt one thing, it is to never underestimate your foe. Ser Davos, are the ballistae and catapults in position?" "Yes your grace." "And the trench?" "The men finished it earlier this evening" "Good, Lord Manderly, see to it that they receive double rations tonight. But no wine. I will have no discord in the ranks" "As you command your grace". "Lord Pyke, what news from the sea?" "Bad news your grace. That scum Greyjoy's fleet landed in the North a fortnight ago. He brought one hundred and fifty thousand men, all Seven kingdoms born and bred, from Dorne to Casterly Rock. They're marching to aid the Targaryen girl. We only just learnt about it cos all the scout ships of ours were attacked by that bastard."
Stannis ground his teeth in anger. A vein began to pulse in his neck, and his forehead was beginning to throb. Davos recognised the danger signs, and sure enough, the King exploded in fury. "Those men he leads should be in my army, by right! By all the laws of gods and men. I am their King! What has Greyjoy ever done for this realm, but plunder and pillage it? I saved their damned lives, all of them! The entire damn realm would be overrun, if it hadn't been for me. Twice Davos! Twice I saved them! And what do they do to repay me? They fight for Greyjoy, a bloody pirate, no better than a saltwater thief, and a girl who thinks some blonde hair and a few oversized reptiles give her the right to rule! Usurper's and thieves, all of them. Tell me Davos, truly, what did I do to make them hate me? Have I not been just? Strong? Righteous? I am no Aerys or Maegor the cruel. My brother whored and drank himself to death, and plunged the realm into six million dragons worth of debt! And still the fools love his memory better than they will ever love me. Fools love a fool, but it is not their love I want. Only their fealty, and some bloody gratitude."
Throughout this extraordinary outburst, Stannis had been standing, his fists clenched, jaw so tight set, Davos thought it might shatter. Now he sank back into his chair, head in his hands. The other members of the council looked at each other, in a stunned silence. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Stannis raised his head. Davos could feel the waves of rage and frustration radiating off him. Staring at his council, his dark eyes like smouldering pits of blue fire, he spoke again, calmer this time, but with a raw animal fury behind the words. "I will not bend before Daenerys Targaryen. I have given everything for the realm. My wife, who hung herself out of grief for my daughter, who was sacrificed by the red woman to save Jon Snow. My men, who were sacrificed to save the realm. Now I have but one thing left to give. And by the Gods, I will give it if I have to. But I will not bend the knee to any living being, not whilst I am still the rightful King, the only King."
Suddenly, they were interrupted by a man covered in snow and breathing heavily, bursting into the tent. In his right hand he clutched a scroll. "Your grace..." he panted. "I bring urgent word from our agent in the enemy camp" Stannis took the scroll, and dismissed the messenger. Breaking it open, he scanned the contents, and then threw it down onto the fire furiously. "They have the boy, Robert's bastard." he informed them. "Edric Storm...but how? It cannot be!" stammered Davos. "I assure you, it is." said Stannis with a dirty look in Davos's direction. "And they plan to burn him, to lift the snows. If they have not done so already." "The boy is your heir your grace. The last male of Baratheon blood besides you." "The boy is a bastard, born of sin committed on my wedding bed." replied the King. "Nevertheless, we must do all we can to rescue him. Your grace, you have already lost one child to the Red God's fires. Do not lose another." Davos could not, would not let Edric Storm be burnt for that red demon, not after all he had been through. "I will lead the rescue myself your grace." "Ser Davos, we can hardly risk this war for the life of one child, no matter how important he is" interjected Lord Manderly. "It's out of the question Davos. I won't allow it. They will have increased the watch tenfold, and every man in the realm knows who you are. They will see you coming and kill you." stated the King. "I'm not asking you to allow it, your grace. I'm not a battle commander or a master tactician. If I die, you'll have lost a smuggler, nothing more. The life of your heir is more important than the life of your hand"
Stannis gave a short, mirthless laugh. "So be it Onion Knight. Have it your way. If you succeed, I will name him my heir. If not, I will need to appoint a new hand. I will give you twenty men, seasoned fighters all, to help you. Go now." Stannis gave him a swift, brusque nod, and turned away. Davos rose, and bowed to the small council, "My Lords. Your grace", then left the tent, wondering if he would see them again. Fingering his imaginary pouch, he thought of Marya, and young Steffon and Stanny, and the things he wished he had said to them. Seeking out his son, Devan, he imparted some final words of goodbye. "Look after your mother and brothers, if I do not return, and if you get the chance to see them again. Be a good man, honest and loyal, the way I've raised you. And Devan...I want to tell you that I'm proud of you, and the man you've become, and so would your brothers be, if they could see you now"
With tears in his eyes, Devan hugged his father one last time. Davos ruffled his hair, and then turned away, to saddle his horse, and to prepare for what might be the last smuggling mission of his career
