Davos
He wouldn't sleep; he believed King Stannis dead. Davos had seen a sword rip the man nearly in half, and he could've sworn he heard all his life's work screaming as it died. All for naught. Still, Davos waited. He sweat through the morning, the afternoon, and he waited still, watching the sun as it set over the sea. This is it; Davos had thought time after time, this is the day all good men die. Sansa and Shireen had busied themselves in the kitchen with the kitchen staff, an older, fat woman named Lydda, who would go home soon. He knew then it would be time to contend with the truth, though he didn't know how he could tell his wife and his… his niece.
Lydda's hair was dark, and though her eyes were tired, Davos knew the woman wasn't much older than him, if she was even near his age at all. Lowborn women always seemed to age faster than anyone, and they died earlier as well. When she came out of the kitchen, saying, "M'lord, your food is on the table in the second room. Bes' get eatin' then."
Davos could imagine what Stannis would say if he found that his staff had decided to speak without being spoken to. Then, Davos decided this was a different seat, a different hold, and a very different lord. "My thanks," he answered, and he heard outside that the bridge was lowered and preparing for her exit. Lydda stopped. "M'lady Sansa has requested that I teach her to cook and clean," she said, her voice awkward, a kind of common fear slipping between thin old lips.
"Aye… Well, see to it that she learns," Davos said, his brow lifted in confusion. Still, Lydda maintained her position in the front hall. "Also, m'lord, she kept callin' me lady." Davos wanted to laugh. "If that offends you, Lydda, I suspect it wouldn't hurt to tell her you don' like it."
"I's only weird, that's all. Well, I'll be off now," she said, and she nodded. Davos saw her out and watched her cross the bridge. Her home was just over two hills. "Wai', Lydda," Davos called. He pointed to a boy holding the yard beside the bridge. "Take her home, boy."
The roads were dangerous, too dangerous for anyone to walk alone these days, and he almost felt foolish for allowing her to leave without an escort.
Shutting the big wooden doors, he went back inside. Sansa, Shireen, and Selyse were seated at the table, waiting for him. "My apologies, my ladies," he said, sitting down… at the head of the table. It sent a chill down his neck, but he still sat. "I hear, Lady Sansa, that you've asked Lydda to teach you how to clean and cook," he said, picking up his fork like a shovel. Stew and bread, grilled cabbage and crispy fried green beans were piled high onto his plate; he hadn't eaten so well in a very, very long time.
"At first, the request was hollow, and then… Something happened. I cannot say for sure what, but the woman grew on me," Sansa replied, her fingers delicately holding her spoon as she ate her stew. "Talk about it," Davos said, eyeing Selyse and Shireen as they ate with their eyes in their plates. Talking to Sansa was all he could do not to fret about Stannis and the horror of the morning. How Selyse wasn't ripping out her hair and how Shireen remained calm, Davos couldn't fathom. "Lydda and her husband have been trying to have children for the last ten years," Sansa replied.
"There is an orphanage near the village," Selyse said, looking up from her hardly eaten meal. Sansa swallowed and took a drink. "Lydda's husband has been out of work for sometime; he would have been killed had we not taken these lands," Sansa replied. "They have no money."
There came a yell from the front room: "Lord Davos!" Without hesitation he got up, unknowing of what he should expect. "Excuse me, my ladies," he said, and cleaned the corners of his mouth with the sleeve of his green cotton shirt; down the hall he went. In front of the great door, there was a boy, the boy that had taken Lydda home.
"There is a man outside, begging entrance. They call him Thoros," the boy said, but Davos was weary. "Did he say why he was here?"
"All he said was that he and his party comes peacefully."
"That won' do, boy. I will meet the party on the balcony, but do not loose that bridge," Davos stated, making his way up the tower's stairs, and exited into the open night. His men held steady, far enough away from the edge not to be seen. Over looking the yard, Davos looked them over.
In the front of several men stood a man in boiled leather. The man's grey hair was piled high on his head; he wore red robes underneath his leather. "State your names," he yelled. "Thoros of Myr."
"All of your names."
"The Brave Companions and the Brotherhood Without Banners ride together on this night, my lord," Thoros replied. "Who is the woman?" Davos replied, seeing the dark cloak that brought up memories of the morning. She held a blade, clasped between pallid, shaking hands. Thoros looked at the woman for half a moment. "The leader of the brotherhood."
"What is her name?" Davos shouted.
Thoros coughed a sound like a dark laugh. "She goes by many names, my lord."
"Humor me," Davos continued.
"Catelyn Tully, Cat Stark, Lady Stoneheart, Mother Merciless, the list goes on," Thoros stated, his tone fixed with annoyance. Davos lost his breath.
"My men will lower the bridge, but only for you at this time," Davos said, nodding at an older knight who began to unwind the iron chains. He pointed to the boy, and said, "Bring him up here. Do not allow him into the dining hall."
In a short moment, Thoros joined him. The man said nothing as he walked toward Davos, and Davos had no idea what he could say. First, he was terrified by the named woman – "I-is she really Cat Stark?" Davos stuttered as Thoros drew closer. "Yes," he replied. "Found by Beric Dondarrion, revived bathed in the light of my god." Davos glanced again at the cloaked woman.
"The Lord of Light?" said Davos, looking closer at the man and finding he smelled nearly the same as Melisandre; like fire wood burned late into the morning hours. Thoros nodded. "Did Lady Melisandre tell you to come here?"
"No, my lord. We are a party searching for… Freys," Thoros maintained. "Several have left the crossing in an attempt to create a house of their own after the death of the King in the North." Davos heard a cough rattle the bones of Lady Stark… or Lady Stoneheart, as it were. Sadness and surprise cloaked him, though there was stiffness in his demeanor.
Davos snorted. "Why would they do that?"
"Because one Frey, Lecker Frey, he wasn't keen on the idea of being massacred by my lady," he answered. "Alas, they tear through the land, raping and pillaging for all their worth and they only beg to be killed. They were last seen somewhere up here."
"We've seen no Freys up here, m'lord," Davos replied. His heart thumped him half to death; was it really true? Two Starks so close together?
"You will."
From the ground, a woman underneath a dark cloak rolled forward, her horse holding a cart. She lifted her hood. "Lord Davos, allow us entry," Melisandre said. "These are friends, but I must assert that you must hide away your wife."
Davos grunted and went down the tower. "Let them in," he shouted. Confusion was beyond him; what was now settling in his heart was a nagging annoyance. Finding his way into the dining hall, the meal had been finished without him. "My Lady, please go to your chambers. I won' allow these visitors to see you."
Sansa's lips pursed, but she made her way to their room.
"Excuse the lack of… things, this hall was just built and we have only settled on the morning," Davos said, watching them clamor in. In his head, Davos didn't know how to refer to Sansa's mother, the woman cloaked all in black, her blade's edge touching the stone floor as she walked slowly. She took off her hood and revealed a most unnatural face; pecked at my birds, bloated as if she'd slept in the sea. The slit throat deterred him from breathing for several moments.
Never once had Davos expected to see the walk of a corpse as it sat in a dining chair.
"Help me take him below," Melisandre said, and three men lifted a burlap cover to reveal Stannis' bloodied body. Limp and white, Stannis' eyes were open and staring forward, not seeing anything. They carried the king down, down, down, and then there were only some men. "We will do the same with your king," Thoros said.
"B-but," Davos began. "He's dead."
"He will not be for long."
"Forgive me, but a corpse canno' see to a kingdom."
"Stannis will not be a corpse, my lord. Do you fear he will be like my lady? No, no, this is a different sort. Stannis will be as he was," Thoros replied. "If not better."
Davos shook with something. Whether it was anger or terror, he didn't know. "Do you know who killed him?" Davos asked.
"My lady. She was mistaken. As I said, we were expecting Freys."
The boy entered, saying, "My lord, you've a raven. From King's Landing."
