He glimpsed the Fat Flower of Highgarden's seemingly aggressive glare at the corner of his eye. Ever since both Davos and Mace Tyrell were placed in the small council as advisors, Lord Mace had done naught but stare at him or alternatively clear his throat and ramble.

Davos hated politics and would've wanted nothing more than to return to his wife's side…if it wasn't for Lord Stannis. Stannis wanted his blunt advice so here he remained in the snake pit of lies and facades. After five council sessions, Davos had not grown close to any of his fellow councillors. The Grand Maester did not care less about Davos as all he did was mumble and sleep; Mace Tyrell despised his mere presence in the council chamber; the Spider and Petyr Baelish were at each other's throats already and the king (when he showed up) and Lord Renly seemed to find him…amusing.

"Ser Kevan will be reinstated in the small council."

"His Grace already decided that I am to be his Master of Coin," said Baelish a little too smugly. He dipped his head respectfully at the bored King Robert. "It'd been the late Lord Arryn's wish too."

Stannis stared at him for a whole minute. "Ser Kevan Lannister will be the new Master of Laws," he said gravelly, looking away. "Without him, we will gain Lord Tywin as a powerful enemy – one we do not have the time or the means to deal with. Ser Waldon, as you were recommended by Lord Tully, you will have a place in the small council as advisor. If you prove to be unhelpful, I will not hesitate to remove you from the small council."

Blunt and straight to the point, thought Davos. Stannis is never one to waste time with flowery words. Thankfully Ser Waldon Whent had the sense to remain silent and nod calmly.

"Shall I summon Ser Kevan for you my lord Hand?" simpered the eunuch, his powdered hands clasped together. He tittered. "I happen to know where Kevan Lannister is at this moment."

"As do I," said Baelish slyly.

Stannis gazed at them with disgust and impatience. "No need," he said shortly to their disappointment. "I will meet him in person myself once this meeting is at an end. Lord Baelish, as Master of the Coin, which you are fond of reminding me, have treasury matters to concern yourself with. Lord Varys, we'll not waste your valuable…skills in this." He turned his attention to the new Master of Ships, Lord Paxter Redwyne. Davos was relieved he did not scowl.

"A number of warships are about to be made in a couple of days, lord Hand," Lord Paxter informed him. He unrolled a large scroll of parchment and pushed it to Stannis's view. Davos glimpsed it for a second. Warship plans. Stannis gave it a quick glance and nodded. "Good," he said, pushing it back to Paxter. "Lord Davos will inspect them once they have been built."

Mace Tyrell frowned. "Lord Hand," he began, puffing his chest again. "I don't think that is necessary. Lord Redwyne is the Master of Ships, not Seaworth. Lord Redwyne does not have to have his ships examined by a lowborn knight who has no knowledge of ships-"

"Nothing?" Renly interrupted with an idle laugh. "Lord Tyrell, you think our Onion Knight knows nothing about ships? You must be mistaken! If Lord Davos had no knowledge of ships, how did he come by his name?" Mace flushed as the king chuckled. Varys tittered again.

"That was no fault of mine!" Mace Tyrell declared. "I was-"

"I am not interested in discussing the past," Stannis broke in. "If all you plan to do bicker about your failures in the past, leave now." He marched over to the oak door and yanked it open, surprising Ser Balon Swann who was guarding it. King Robert roared with laughter. Mace mumbled inaudibly and remained in his seat. Expressionlessly, Stannis returned to his chair. "Is there anything else to discuss at all?" he inquired stiffly.

"My little birds bring me more news from Dorne," spoke Varys, rubbing his hands together to Davos's annoyance. "It seems Prince Doran had left the Water Gardens for Starfall with his brother Prince Oberyn."

"Oh? Starfall is House Dayne's seat."

"Indeed my lord Hand."

"Lady Stark is also at Starfall is she not? She is a Stark now, not a Dayne. What business could she possibly have with Princes Doran and Oberyn Martelle? I was under the belief Lady Stark went to Starfall for a wedding."

"Well my lord Hand, considering that the only other Daynes of Starfall left are young Edric Dayne and the future Lady of Blackhaven, perhaps it was for the best that Lady Stark represented House Dayne's interests in whatever matter that is being discussed in Starfall between the Daynes and the Martells."

"What matter, Lord Varys?"

The Spider considered it for a moment. "There was an accident in a tourney at Sunspear," he explained. "Apparently Prince Oberyn accidently killed Lord Dayne or injured him severely in a joust." He directed his enigmatic smile at Mace. "My lord Tyrell, I believe you can support me in this. I believe Prince Oberyn injured your heir in a joust too."

"That bloody Red Viper," grumbled Mace Tyrell, nodding vigorously. "It's quite like him to wound one's heir – or cripple him. If I was Lady Stark, I'd demand a goodly compensation for Lord Dayne's death."

"It was a joust," Ser Barristan the Bold reminded him. "Both Lord Dayne and Prince Oberyn were aware of the risks before they participated and it was by an unfortunate chance that Lord Dayne died from his wounds. Lady Stark will have no right to complain or demand compensation Lord Tyrell."

"Thank the Seven for that," Davos thought the king mutter.

"I wasn't aware of the tourney at Sunspear," remarked Renly. "If I was, I might have went for a joust or two."

"You are always welcome to participate at the tourneys at Highgarden," Mace told him. "And you of course Your Grace," he added hastily, "and uh you too, my lord Hand. Everyone is welcome at Highgarden."

"Except Oberyn of Dorne," Stannis grunted. Davos almost laughed. Mace Tyrell looked slightly confused.

"I suspect there will be a match for young Lord Edric Dayne," Waldon Whent commented. "Princess Arianne Martell is too old for him though."

"There are other available Martells," Varys pointed out. "Prince Doran has a number of young, attractive Martell cousins. Lady Stark should be delighted that her nephew will marry the Prince of Dorne's cousin. Who knows? Perhaps Prince Doran has another cousin able to wed one of Lady Stark's daughters." He giggled again. "Oh, but Prince Doran has sons around the same age as Lady Stark's pretty daughters. Perhaps we will bear witness to a Stark-Martell wedding."

"The Red Viper has bastards," King Robert said suddenly. "I have two that I've acknowledged and Ned Stark has a bastard too. Well, he has two if you include that bastard niece of Lady Stark's." Davos stared at him. The king hardly spoke in council sessions and now he was implying political matches! "I'd like to see Ned's grim bastard married to one of those so-called Sand Snakes," chuckled the king, his dark blue eyes glittering with amusement.

The other lords chuckled, some out of politeness while others like Lord Renly laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Davos forced himself to smile. His eyes met Stannis's. Stannis had not smiled at all. Stannis waited until the laughter died down. "A match between bastards is not a bad idea," he said decidedly. "It'll most certainly bind the Martells closer to us which will be advantageous. A betrothal between a trueborn Baratheon and Martell would be better."

"Arianne Martell is too old for Prince Orys," Mace objected at once. Typical of him, Davos thought. Stannis frowned suspiciously at him. The bumbling fool of Highgarden took no notice. "Arianne of Dorne is too old for Prince Orys," Mace said again. "She is said to be a seductress, a harlot, a wanton!" Even King Robert had leant forward with interest. "Arianne Martell does not have the qualities to be the future queen," Mace finished off.

"There have never been good relations between you Tyrells and the Martells," grumbled Stannis. He suddenly smiled. Davos froze. It wasn't much of a smile – more of a grimace. "Lord Tyrell," Stannis said unpleasantly. "If you think Princess Arianne Martell is unfit to be my nephew's bride, who do you think will be good enough to wed him? Your own daughter?"

"Well," blustered the Fat Flower, "my Margaery is closer in age to Prince Orys than Arianne Martell. Margaery is accomplished in music and dancing, a maiden of course, beautiful and familiar with the ways of court."

"Oh? I believe Lady Lyarra Stark is the same age as Prince Orys." King Robert snorted with laughter and even Paxter Redwyne shook his head with a smile at his bristling liege lord.

"A Stark!" Mace sounded astonished. "Lord Hand! You must be japing! A Stark is not fit to be the future queen! They are of the North! A wild terrain-"

"Enough, Lord Mace," Stannis cut in icily. "I heard enough from you today."

"Do not fear, Lord Tyrell," said Renly cheerfully. "Instead of my dear nephew, you will have me as your good-son." Mace Tyrell had the sense to smile and nod at him. Stannis's eyes swivelled to his younger brother. "It is time you wed Lady Margaery," he decided. "You are a man and Lady Margaery is no longer a young girl. There have been no uprisings since the Greyjoy Rebellion and now is a good time for you to commit to your promise and marry your betrothed."

"Aye." King Robert nodded in agreement. He must be in an extremely pleasing mood to agree with Stannis today. "You might enjoy your wedding night, eh?" He winked at his brother roguishly. Mace Tyrell looked offended. "I'm sure Stannis enjoyed fucking his Lannister wife," the king continued. "I expected him to only father one child, but he had six children!"

Stannis glowered at him. Davos repressed a sigh. It seemed certain that the Seven had deemed the Baratheon brothers never to get along.

"I will not have my daughter wed to a landless lord," declared Mace. Stannis looked back at him. "Lady Margaery and Lord Renly have been betrothed for a good many years," he said stoically, "and they will be wed."

"I am her father Lord Hand! When I agreed to the betrothal, Lord Renly was to inherit the lordship of Rainwood!" He glared at Davos. "Lord Renly's inheritance was robbed by this upstart Onion Knight! Lord Hand, the betrothal between Lord Renly and my daughter Margaery will be terminated if Lord Renly is not given a significant lordship of his own!"

"Lord Tyrell-" cautioned Paxter but the king interrupted. "No need Lord Tyrell. Renly will have his inheritance – a better lordship in fact. Your lovely Margaery will marry the Lord of Dragonstone."

"Lord Baratheon, I am more than willing to resign the lordship of Rainwood," Davos said once Grand Maester Pycelle shuffled out of the council chamber. "A knighthood was more than satisfactory Lord Baratheon."

"It is not for me to decide," said Stannis, grinding his teeth. "I don't even know why the king invited Mace Tyrell to the small council in the first place. All the Fat Flower cares about is his precious Highgarden! If only Jon Arryn was alive and Hoster Tully here. Without those dutiful men, I get a council full of imbeciles and lickspittles." He muttered a curse under his breath. Scrunching up a small piece of paper in his hand, he glanced at Davos. "If I had my way you would be the new Master of Ships," he said bluntly. "Though it pains me to admit Paxter Redwyne is a more suitable candidate for the position in the eyes of the court, I still despise the Reach lords. I always will."

"Milord Hand," said Davos hesitantly. "May I speak truthfully?"

Stannis snorted. "Why else are you here, Lord Davos?"

"For the good of the realm, ensure there is peace with the Tyrells. Lord Paxter Redwyne will be an excellent Master of Ships, but you must trust him-"

"I will never trust him."

"Try, lord Hand. At least in the council sessions. As you well know, Lord Paxter owns the Redwyne fleet which contains at least two hundred warships. The only other with a powerful fleet is House Greyjoy. It will be a disaster for the king and the realm if you offend Lord Paxter."

"And having Lord Paxter as the Master of Ships is a wise move? I think it quite a foolish one. As Master of Ships, Redwyne is in charge of virtually the Redwyne fleet and the royal fleet. A portion of the royal fleet is anchored at Dragonstone to protect it from any blasted Targaryen pretenders that may be hiding and biding their time across the Narrow Sea." He darkened. "And giving Renly Dragonstone, what a joke. He does not have the experience to manage it."

"You have been the Lord Protector of Dragonstone for many years my lord. As you are the Hand of the King now, perhaps the king thought it would lessen your burden if your brother Lord Renly is the Lord of Dragonstone." Davos frowned for a second. "Milord…did you say Targaryen pretenders?"

"No doubt foolish exiles with tiny drops of Targaryen blood in their veins. The eunuch Varys is a dubious man, but he has his methods of extracting secrets and vital information all over Westeros and even in Essos. Before he died, I heard Jon Arryn muttering feverishly, most likely to himself. It was a couple of hours before his death, but he mentioned Targaryen pretenders over and over. A pity he didn't say any names, but he must've been ill greatly to say such nonsense." Unless his final act before his death was to protect the Seven Kingdoms.

"Does the king know?"

Stannis shrugged. "In either case, I had the eunuch investigate and he revealed to me that he did hear rumours of a Targaryen pretender in Essos."

"Milord!" Stannis pocketed the crumpled piece of parchment and picked up the diagrams of the warships Paxter Redwyne helpfully left behind. "Varys may be lying or he might be telling the truth," Stannis said flatly. "I don't know why he might lie, but I will be keeping a closer eye on that wily eunuch. After Robert was crowned king, I led the fleet to Dragonstone and captured the last two remaining Targaryens: a baby girl and a young boy. By the honourable Lord Stark's words, the babe died during a night in the black cells and the boy was accidently killed by one of the jailers after he would not cease screaming. There are no Targaryens left, Lord Davos. None at all."

"What of those descended from the Blackfyre line? They have not set foot in Westeros since the War of the Ninepenny Kings."

"Bah. There are no male-lined Blackfyres left. Only those descended from the female lines perhaps, but no one will want a Targaryen back on the Iron Throne except for their loyalists."

"Elia of Dorne had a son-"

"Who died. We all saw the bloody remains. However, Varys had not led us on a wrong path before. He'd hinted at a looming Greyjoy rebellion and we ended up crushing the Iron Fleet, killing two of Balon Greyjoy's sons and Lord Stark taking the third as a hostage at Winterfell."

"Milord Hand, must I scrutinise the warships made under Lord Redwyne's watch? The Reach lords will not appreciate it."

"Yes. I want you to check the warships for secret traps or whatnot and make note of the crews. I will not have a single criminal on board of one of the ships of the royal fleet. Do it discreetly Lord Davos."

"If the warships are satisfactory, you will not have me inspect them again?"

"Very well." Before Stannis could say anything else, the doors were flung open and a furious Lady Baratheon strode in, her eyes sparkling with anger. It came as no surprise that she was in Lannister red again.

"Get out!" she ordered Davos, her emerald green eyes not straying from Lord Stannis. "I want a private moment alone with my husband."

Stannis took one look at her and grunted. "Lord Davos can stay. Whatever you have on your mind you can say in front of him."

Cersei glowered at him. "I will not!"

"As you wish my lady. Please leave then. Whatever you wish to discuss to me about can wait until supper." Stannis paused. "Perhaps until tomorrow morning if it suits you. The queen insists for us to dine together as a family at supper. You will attend of course, but you will not bring another argument to the table. Last time you did, Robert threatened to banish us to Dragonstone until the end of our lives and give Storm's End to Renly."

Cersei flushed. "You care more of Storm's End than your lady wife?"

Stannis frowned. "Get out, woman."

"What did you say?"

"Out!" Davos flinched as Stannis bellowed at his wife. "All you have done since we came here is complain," growled Stannis. "I'm busy with council matters as it is. Not only that, but I have a damned ward who happens to be the young Lord of the Eyrie! I think it will be better if you return to Storm's End for a month of two, do you not agree?"

"I will not leave court for that gloomy tower of a great lord's castle."

Stannis froze. Davos watched as he walked to the door. Davos too edged away from the furious Cersei Baratheon. Even now after years of marriage, Cersei was still more the Lannister lion than the Baratheon stag.

"It seems Lord Davos, I need a moment alone with my lady wife."

Davos dipped his head. "Milord, milady." He fled from the council chamber, the doors swinging shut behind him. Lady Cersei was not one to keep her temper under control – even in public. Frankly it reminded Davos of the king in a heated argument with Stannis. He slowed into a stroll as he headed for his chambers. He was surprised to see his third son Matthos waiting for him.

"Is it true, Father?" Matthos said at once. "Does Lord Frey intend for one of us to wed one of his daughters or granddaughters?"

"What?" said Davos, taken back.

"You haven't heard?"

Davos stared at his son, dumbfounded. Lord Frey must be desperate to get rid of his daughters to consider wedding one to a Seaworth. Even now that he's head of House Seaworth of Rainwood, Davos still remembered his lowly roots and the days of near starvation and smuggling. His sons now have a future and marriage to a Frey! He didn't know whether to fret or rejoice.

"I heard it from Queen Catelyn," explained Matthos, noticing Davos's confused expression. He frowned. "Not exactly heard, but she was talking about it to one of her ladies. Apparently Lord Frey wrote you a letter, offering one of his daughters or granddaughters to one of us. Father, is it true? Will one of us have to marry a Frey?" He looked at him worriedly.

"If it is the case, it is an honour," Davos said uncertainly. "The Freys are one of the most powerful families in the Riverlands and having the Lord of the Crossing as an ally will be useful."

"They control a bridge-"

"A strategically built bridge. What letter is this, Matthos? I don't receive letters – you know that." At times, Davos would walk to Grand Maester Pycelle's rooms to request a reading lesson or two, but he would always cowardly turn away and leave. Thankfully not many lords sent him letters of sorts, preferring to speak to him – or send their squires more like – in person.

"Check your table?" suggested Matthos. Davos nodded slowly. "Aye. Will you be willing to marry a Frey?"

Matthos shrugged. "Who else will be willing to wed their daughter to a son of the Onion Knight?" Perhaps poor lords desperate to curry favour with the Hand of the King, mused Davos. It did make him wonder: was Lord Walder Frey indeed desperate to rid himself of daughters…or could it be something else?

I wasn't too certain if Walder Frey would want one of his brood married to a Seaworth, but he had many daughters and granddaughters to get rid of and even though House Seaworth isn't exactly descended from ancient and noble blood, Davos is quite influential. Next chapter we'll be back at Winterfell and will be there for a while :)