DAVOS
Every step that Davos took through the halls of the Red Keep echoed in his ears, shouting at him that he should not be here. Leave off, leave off, he wanted cry back, the King has asked me here himself, but he did not. It would look foolish, and Davos knew he looked foolish enough as it was. He moved quickly, aware of the eyes of servants on him, knowing that they saw him there, and knew he did not belong. He walked through the winding hallways, hoping he was remembering the directions clearly, until at last he saw the door with the man in the white cloak before it.
"Declare yourself," drawled Ser Lyn Corbray, hand moving slowly to the hilt of his sword, a dull smile on his face that convinced Davos that the Kingsguard knew exactly who stood before him.
Davos took a deep breath. "Ser Davos Seaworth," he said, with what he hoped was a reasonable amount of pride. "Here on the King's business."
For a moment - just a moment - Ser Lyn left his hand at his sword hilt. And then he snapped it quickly away. "Ahhh, yes, Ser Davos," he said, that dull smile never leaving his handsome face. "I was told you would come. My apologies. You've such a common face. It's easy to mistake you for anybody." He leaned backwards and gave a solitary knock upon the door. Then he opened it, insolent eyes staring at Davos, as if daring him to step inside.
Davos nodded in thanks and ducked in. He did not like Lyn Corbray, and not simply for his contemptuous ways. One heard things about him, and while Davos was not a man to idly credit rumors, the ones he heard about Ser Lyn were of a piece and seemed horribly likely - stories of men killed in needless duels, pilgrims on the roads near Heart's Home dying mysteriously, and others of a more prurient nature. Stannis may have given the man a white cloak, but Davos doubted it lay within anyone's power to give Ser Lyn a heart that matched it.
A raucous cry and the sound of wings beating frantically interrupted Davos' thoughts. The room he'd entered was full of ravens, he realized. He was still taking this in when Maester Cressen came to his side. "Ahh! Captain Seaworth!" declared the old man brightly, tugging on Davos' sleeve. "Come... come... His Grace has been waiting for you."
Davos stared around at the cages, as he followed the old man. "I... thank you... what are all these...?"
"Ahh, yes," said Cressen still smiling, "nothing to concern yourself with. The King has made me put up a rookery here..."
"As the Grand Maester takes all the ravens he gets to the Hand first," said Stannis blankly, seated before a large table, a large parchment spread before him. On it were placed little wooden chits. The King was reading a missive of some sort, his face an inexpressive mask. "And if the messages are not to the Lord Hand's liking, I tend to see them later, if at all." He moved a group of chits over the parchment, looked at them for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod.
"I... see, Your Grace," said Davos, feeling certain that he was in the midst of a discussion that went well beyond him. He coughed. "You... you asked me here..." he began at last.
Stannis stood and turned towards him. "I did." The slightest of smiles touched the King's face. "You have done me a great service, bringing that fleet from Braavos..."
Davos averted his eyes. "I have only done as Your Grace asked me," he replied, almost mumbling.
"That is no small thing," said Stannis. "My own grandfather, the former Master of Ships, failed to do so, or indeed, even to arrive. That is why he is the former Master of Ships, and you now hold his post."
There was silence for a moment. "Your Grace... what do... Sire, you can not mean..." Davos leaned towards the King frantically. "I am a smuggler! Born in Flea Bottom! You cannot want me to be your Master of Ships!"
"Lord Seaworth," said Stannis bluntly, "what you were is of no importance to me. What you are now is what I think of, and the answer is my good and loyal man, who has done me great favor."
"As you have me, Your Grace, as you have me..." began Davos. "But it is..." He stopped. "Lord Seaworth?"
"Indeed." Stannis glanced at Cressen, who produced a parchment from his sleeve. For a moment, he offered it to Davos, but then, with a glance from the King, cracked open the seal and began to read it aloud.
"For his good and leal service, Ser Davos Seaworth, made a landed knight by my royal favor, is now named Lord of Driftmark, and Master of Tides, titles that shall be transmitted unto his heirs hereforth, along with the lands and honors so designated. So say I, Stannis Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men..." Cressen coughed, and rolled the parchment up again. "And so forth," he said, offering the parchment to Davos.
"Now, Lord Seaworth," said Stannis, as he turned back to his table, with its parchment and chits, "you may, if you so choose, refuse to be my Master of Ships, if you truly believe yourself not to be up to the task. I will be disappointed, but it would ill behoove a king to force a burden onto a back not strong enough for it. But this honor-this honor, you have no choice. I have given it to you, and you shall keep it. Is that clear?"
Davos stared at the parchment in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. "It is... absolutely, Your Grace," he answered at last. "I... I accept the post, sire. I will be your Master of Ships, if that is your wish."
"As I have made abundantly clear, Lord Seaworth, it is," replied Stannis absently, his attention back on the chits laid out before him. "Maester Cressen, please show my Master of Ships out. And make certain to address him by his full title as he leaves. I would not have Ser Lyn make a mistake in the future."
"Of course, Your Grace," said Cressen with a smile. The old man turned, and began to make his way to the door. A sudden loud squawk made him stop, as a raven flew in through the window and landed before him, a message tied to it.
"My goodness," said the old Maester. "This raven has been sent with speed..." He carefully knelt, herding the bird towards his hand, and then skillfully plucked the message from it. He walked to the King and placed the message directly in his hands. Stannis quickly opened it and read, his expression seeming to grow darker by the second. When it was finished he tossed it angrily before him.
"Lord Seaworth - it appears I spoke too hastily," he muttered, grinding his teeth. "Please stay. An urgent matter has arisen, and we have much to discuss."
