DAVOS
"Oh, six maids there were in a spring-fed pool..." sang Ser Peter Plumm drunkenly, as his fellow Lannister men tapped the tune out on the tables. Plumm began to merrily, and unsteadily, dance along with the tune.
Look at them. You'd think they were nothing more than a bunch of drunken sailors, if not for their finery. And even then... some of the sailors I know dress just as well... Ser Davos Seaworth turned away, feeling acutely embarrassed. Somehow, it felt wrong for him to be here among so many old houses, a member of their revels. All I did was deliver some onions... The ends of the fingers of his left hand throbbed, still sore from where the King had chopped them. At moments like this, he wondered if he had made the proper choice-and not because of his fingertips.
He shook his head. My sons will stand higher than I ever will. And if I must feel like a pauper among princes to let them-it is worth it. Davos felt a sudden tugging at his sleeve. Stannis' newly-made squire, young Balon Swann stood at his side. "His Grace wishes to see you," said the young man quietly.
Davos nodded awkwardly, and rose from his seat, following Balon towards the king. They passed briefly by Lord Tywin who was talking to Grand Maester Pycelle-or rather, listening to the Grand Maester talk. "-worry overmuch," stated Pycelle, sagely stroking his grey beard. "Highgarden is grasping at straws. Why-I myself am being threatened with a Grand Conclave..." It seemed to Davos that Pycelle was talking a bit loud, and he wondered if the Grand Maester was more in his cups than he appeared. The Lord Tywin seemed to glance at Ser Davos as he passed, and despite himself the ex-smuggler felt a chill. There's another man who'd rather I was not here... It struck Davos that it seemed strange, and slightly ominous that the Lord of Casterly Rock was seated so far from the king. Then again, I don't know if I'd want him too near me if he was my goodfather. His hand went to his luck despite himself.
Stannis looked drawn and tired when Davos reached him, and perhaps his eyes mistook him, but Queen Cersei didn't look much better. "Ser Davos," said the King, with something that looked not unlike a smile.
Davos managed a rather stiff bow. "Your Grace wished to see me?"
"For two reasons," said Stannis. "Firstly, to introduce you to my wife." Cersei Lannister regarded the man, her eyes clouding with puzzlement and what Davos couldn't help but suspect was distaste. "This is Ser Davos Seaworth of Cape Wrath. He saved my life, and the lives of many other fine men."
Davos shifted uncomfortably. "I brought some onions, Your Grace. Nothing more."
"Through Paxter Redwyne's fleet," stated Stannis. "It was bravely done."
The Queen looked at him with growing comprehension. "The knight of the black ship..." she stated.
Davos glanced away. "For most, Your Grace, I'm the knight of the onion..."
"It is the black ship that I have need of, Davos," said Stannis. "I offered Redwyne a peaceful settlement, if he would bend the knee and put his ships in my service." That faint smile had vanished and become a darker frown than usual. "He has done... quite the opposite."
"I've... heard something of that manner," muttered Davos. Lord Redwyne's taking the remaining Targaryens to Highgarden had been the talk of Stannis' retinue all the way to Bronzegate-news had even trickled down to him.
"I need a fleet," said the King. "A fleet and the men to sail it. Honest men, if they can be found. It occurred to me you might know such men."
Davos bit his lip. "The men I know, Your Grace, are honest-up to a point. A point and no further."
Stannis nodded. "I suspected as much. And such men will have to serve-for now. Wedding feast or no, Ser Davos-I am fighting a war. And I mean to win it."
