Davos

The last time Davos had been on a ship's deck was when he sailed north from Dragonstone to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, answering the Night's Watch's call for aid. Now he was heading back to Dragonstone, from White Harbour instead of Eastwatch, to mine the dragonglass in its cave and hold it as Lord, in the name of his new King.

A raven had been sent from Winterfell ahead of Davos and Lord Manderly leaving, that ordered the ships in the harbour to the be prepared to sail. By the time the two lords had reached the city, after nearly two weeks of riding along the White Knife, only two days work remained preparing the ships for a voyage to Dragonstone. The cargo holds of the flagship and ten other ships had been used to store mining equipment. Another twenty holds carried the men who'd use the equipment and the rest of the near a hundred ships were battleships, carried food & supplies or soldiers who'd garrison the island. At first light on the Davos' third day in White Harbour, the oars were dipped and the ships set sail.

Lord Manderly's flagship was called The Merman. She had three tall masts: one on the forecastle, one at the centre and the last at the back of the main deck, just before the quarterdeck. Fifty oarsmen were on either side, pushing the great vessle along the White Knife into the open water of the Bite. With the wind pushing south east, the massive sails that bore the merman of Manderly were dropped. The Onion Knight could not think of a finer vessel he'd had the pleasure of sailing aboard. He stood at the bow of the ship, at ease, looking over the open ocean.

Some rain decided to fall an hour after leaving the mouth of the river. It was not much, but the last thing Davos wanted was to have his clothes get wet only for him catch a chill later. He made his way along the length of the main deck after descending the forecastle, then stepped into the cabin at the back of the ship. Lord Manderly sat at a table, tucking into a greasy, spit-roasted capon. Davos felt his stomach rumble and could not help but ask, "Would you mind sharing some of that?"

Lord Manderly grinned. "Of course not, Lord Davos," he answered before cutting up the bird and placing some of the meat on a spare plate. Davos sat and began to tuck in, not bothering to use a knife & fork, only because Manderly did not either. The meat was well seasoned and pleasantly hot, clearly the Lord of White Harbour was someone who appreciated good food. They drank some wine with the capon, but is was sour in taste.

On their ride down to White Harbour, Davos had spoken a decent amount to the fat lord. Their first conversation happened as they left the southern gate of Winterfell. All the time he was worrying for the poor draught horse that Manderly used for his personal mount. It was the biggest horse Davos had ever seen, no doubt specifcally chosen because it could bare Manderly's weight. "So Lord Davos, what history do you have upon the seas?" the Lord of White Habour had asked in a booming voice that commanded respect.

"I was a smuggler," Davos answered plainly.

A large grin grew on Wyman's face. "And I bet you smuggled in & out of my port on several occassions."

Davos gave two short nods. "When I began to serve Stannis, he saw me pay for my crimes." He pulled the glove off his right hand – still keeping a hold on the riens – to show Lord Manderly the shortened fingers. "You needn't worry about me smuggling anymore."

"Of course not," Lord Manderly chuckled. "You've gone from smuggler to the second most powerful man in the North." He chuckled again before following with his second question. "So what should we expect once we make land on Dragonstone?"

"An abandoned fortress if Cersei hasn't retaken it," Davos answered. "I don't know where the dragonglass is on the island but I'm sure it won't take long to find."

"It had better not," Manderly hoped. "The last thing I would want is to be come upon by whatever fleet the Lannisters have in King's Landing. I want the first shipment of dragonglass returning home soon."

"As do I," Davos agreed. "I've no doubt the smallfolk on the island will help us find it." He looked up to the sky. The red comet's light bled through the grey clouds. "That comet's back in the sky."

Manderly looked up. "So it is."

"When it last appeared, the Lady Melisandre thought it was a sign from her Red God to tell her that Stannis was her Prince that was Promised. Now it's back and Jon is supposed to be the Prince that was Promised."

"The only godly sign I care for is the seven statues in my sept and the face on a Weirwood tree."

"I don't blame you. At least your gods don't tell you to burn the gods of others." Or innocent little girls. Davos wondered how far Melisandre had gotten south and exactly where she was. If the Gods were good, he would never have to see her again; but then again, it would be sweet to see justice done to the Red Woman. And I pray Jon would let me pass the sentence, so I could swing the sword.

The rain continued for the rest of the voyage's first day and all their time sailing the Bite. The wind got stronger everyday. The smaller ships in the fleet began creeping ever so slightly ahead. Davos could do little, he was sad to admit to himself: the crew had their jobs well in hand. Instead, he discussed with Lord Manderly the things they would do upon landing on Dragonstone. There were deepwater ports the western side of the island, so the fleet would who have to travel round the island to make port. Before The Merman did that, however, Davos, Lord Manderly and a group of soldiers would beach themselves on the eastern side of the island close to where the fortress was and meet with the smallfolk to explain what was happening.

With the wind pushing south east, the fleet made to pass in-between the Fingers and an island called the Paps. The goal was to keep as close to land as they could. Winter storms were horrendous out on the open sea – far from the coast – and the last thing they needed was to risk loosing ships to heavy winds and tall waves. That didn't stop the rain getting heavier as the journey went on.

As they travelled down the eastern coast of the Vale, their progress slowed. The wind was more east than it was south. The oarsmen worked their strong arms to push the ship forward, making up for the speed that the wind could not provide. Davos' daily routine became waking up, eating a bowl of extremely thin porridge to break his fast, being showered by the cold winter rain and sharing sailing stories with Lord Manderly & a hand full of his officers over sour wine. They even got some light snow one day when they were travelling particularly close to land, the hilly coast of the Vale peaking just over the horizon.

As they were passing the bay which Runestone and Old Anchor sat on the coast of, The Merman's captain suggested making for Gulltown to stop off a few ships there before going the rest of the way to Dragonstone. Davos had the final say after much discussion amoungst the officers. They would head straight for Dragonstone, not stopping for anything. "The White Walkers could make their move at any moment," he reasoned with them. "We need to get dragonglass back to Winterfell as quickly as we physically can." The reasoning was accepted and no more arguments were had.

It would turn out stopping at Gulltown would have been unnecessary. Maester Wolkan or someone else must of sent a raven informing Gulltown of the voyage to Dragonstone. As the northern fleet pasted the Bay of Crabs, they were met by ten galleys departed from the Vale's port city. Their sails bore a yellow tower, burning on a black pile, against a red field. The man in charge of the fleet came aboard The Merman to speak with Davos and Lord Manderly.

Lord Gerold Grafton was a wide man with thick arms and shoulders, his head covered in a mop of dirty blonde hair. He accpeted the sour wine which was all they had to drink beside water. He spoke in a booming voice and a courteous tone. "I apologise for coming upon your fleet so unexpectedly, My Lords," Lord Grafton began, "but once I got word from Lord Baelish that you were to be making your way to Dragonstone, I could not let myself sit ideally by, knowing it was possible you were unaware of what you were sailing toward."

"Please enlighten us," Davos told the Lord Grafton, pouring himself a cup of wine.

"Euron Greyjoy has entered an alliance with Cersei Lannister and is currently in the process of building more ships," Grafton informed before sipping some wine. "Dragonstone remains unoccupied by anyone accept its smallfolk, but that is mainly due to the Lannisters having lacked the naval power to travel to the island since the Battle of the Blackwater. It is entirely possible that the moment Cersei hears of your landing upon the island, she will send Greyjoy with as many ships as he currently has to pluck it from your hands."

"As much as that may be a risk, we need the island," Lord Manderly told their guest.

Davos gave two soft nods before explaining, "Dragonstone has dragonglass buried in its caverns. King Jon has ordered us to mine it and send it back north to be made into weapons that we'll use against the White Walkers and their army of the dead."

Grafton shrugged. "Far be it from me to question the order of my King and his Lord Hand," he said. "I had no intention of stopping you on your voyage, anyway. You've come all the way from White Harbour so I did not wish to make all that travel fruitless. None the less I will warn you again that Euron Greyjoy and the Iron Fleet is a credible fleet." Grafton finished his wine with a series of swallows. "I will be on my way back to Gulltown. I promise to send as many ships and men that I can spare to help in the effort of mining this dragonglass. The last thing I want is to live in the frozen hell that these White Walkers will create."

"So believe they exist?"

Grafton gave a brief chuckle. "Trust is the word I would use. I trust they exist because King Jon is putting all the effort he can into preparing to fight them. I seriously doubt a man would put so much passion into a course should that course be based on a falsehood. Besides, I have never been beyond the Wall. King Jon has. I am in no positon to be making claims against him when I myself haven't the necessary information to make such claims."

"Thank you, Lord Grafton," Davos said sincerely.

"You're welcome, Lord Davos. I promise the ships will be at Dragonstone as quickly as I can get them there. For now, five of the galleys I've brought with me will accompany you the rest of the way to Dragonstone." So Lord Grafton returned to his own ship and was off again, pushed north to Gulltown by the many oars lining the sides of the galley he rode. Five galleys remained with the northern fleet, as Lord Grafton had said they would, flittering in amongst the near a hundred ships that had travelled all the way from White Harbour.

With the new ships joining them, they were on the final stretch. The rain kept falling on them as they sailed past Crackclaw Point and Claw Isle on its eastern side. As they turned south west, entering Blackwater Bay, the Gods were kind and the wind changed from pushing south east to just south. The oarsmen were thankful as it meant they did not need to be doing all the work for the rest of the voyage.

Two and a half weeks after setting out from White Harbour, Dragonstone peaked over the horizon, gradually revealing itself to the approaching ships. All the while, Davos stood upon the forecastle, eyes locked on the volcanic island as more of it appeared on the edge of the ocean. Lord Manderly stood beside him. As the oarsmen & wind worked together to push The Merman forward, Davos felt a strange feeling of homecoming, seeing Dragonstone after so long. It had been his home since Robert had given the fortress to Stannis. And it will be my home again, now that Jon has ordered me to be its lord.

On the deck behind him, men were scrambling about, preparing to make port on the western side of the island after Davos, Lord Manderly and ten soldiers set off in a large row boat to land on the eastern beach. All the warships in the fleet would not be making port until their positon on Dragonstone was firmly established. Instead they were going to make anchor a league or two west of the island in case King's Landing had heard of their travel and sent Euron Greyjoy out to attack them. The last thing they wanted would be for their efforts to be thwarted before they started mining.

Twelve men clambered into a row boat, eleven who were of average build and the last of them absurdly fat. The soldiers carried longsword and axe – there was no space for spears – while clad in mail & boiled leather. Every second man had an oar, which included both the lords aboard. Gradually they pushed themselves toward the beach of golden white sand while The Merman set off to make port on the eastern side of the island. The sky was overcast, but neglected to rain; for that Davos was thankful. Great, towering cliffs lined the beach: sharp, volcanic rock coloured black that made for an imposing image. The fortress the island was named for did not look out of place amoung them.

Dragonstone sat nestled next to Dragonmont, the still active volcano that had made the island, pale grey steam rising from the vents at the top. The smell of sulfur & brimstone grew thicker as they closed the distance between them and the island. The fortress itself had not changed in the time Davos had been away from it. A main triangular tower jutted up from the centre, surrounded on all sides by thick walls made of grey stone that had all come for the surrounding cliffs and jagged rocks. It once was Stannis', now it's mine. Davos smiled, as much as he could while moving his body forward then backward as he rowed.

The closer they got to the beach, the easier it was to see the family of four who stood & stared at them as they approached. They were a father, a mother & two young sons, one of which was taller than the other, who'd been playing together on the sand & in the water. They beached the boat and the family still did not move off. Davos, Manderly and the soldiers were quick to leave the boat and pull it onto the drier sand, further away from the water. With that done, the new Lord of Dragonstone approached his smallfolk to talk.

"Greetings," he said.

"Lord Davos?" the man managed. Davos did not recongnise the man, whoes younger son had climbed into his arms.

"Aye, it is."

"Where is King Stannis?"

"Dead. He was defeated. Would you please take me to the main village to see the Keeper of the Keys."

The man managed a weak nod, then handed his son to his wife. "We had lost all hope of seeing you again, you were gone so long," the man said as he began leading Davos, Manderly and the soldiers up the beach, feet pressing into the soft sand. The mother and sons remained where they were.

"What's your name?"

"Garse."

"This is Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbour. He and I have been sent to Dragonstone by the King in the North to mine the dragonglass in the caves close to the fortress."

"Robb Stark? I thought Stannis was fighting against him."

"No, his brother, Jon Stark, previously Snow. After Stannis was defeated by the Boltons, Jon led a campaign against them and retook Winterfell for House Stark. He was crowned King in the North for it and I entered his service."

Garse remained quiet after that, leading the way along the stone paths of Dragonstone. A series of villages populated the island, the largest of which was the one sitting closest to the fortress. It was thankfully not that long a walk from the beach to the village, a quaint little thing that was built of houses made from unmortared stone with timber rooves. Smoke rose from many a chimney. The Keeper of the Keys lived in a house just like all the others, the only difference being that it sat on its own, a small distance from the rest, on the road leading to the fortress. Davos delivered three quick knocks to the wood of the door. A man of middle age and greying, brown hair answered, standing as high as his door frame.

"Lord Davos," he said, shocked.

"Syril."

"Why are you here? Did Stannis finish his buisness up north?"

"No. He was defeated. But I'll explain it all later. If you wouldn't mind, we need to get into the fortress."

"Why of course, My Lord, of course." The man Syril disappeared back inside his house to retrieve the keys he was the keeper of. In that time, Davos told Garse he could go back to see his family. Syril left through his door only to close it behind him, now wearing a cloak over his roughspun clothes.

The thirteen men trudged their way up the road to the main gates of Dragonstone: two towering, black steel doors engraved with symbols of dragons and Targaryen imagery supported on either side by great stone dragon heads that still intimidated Davos despite having seen them frequently while spending time on the island with Stannis. Above the gate were battlements that were populated by merlons, arrow slits and machicolations. On either side of the approaching road were two tall, stone hills that forced an attacking army into a bottleneck.

Syril took out a ring of large iron keys and climbed the steps to the black steel gates. Inserting the largest of them into a keyhole on the right gate, he turned the key. From inside the steel gate, a series of mechanical sounds began virbrating as the locking mechanism began to pull the locking bars from the left gate. Once the virbations ceased, Syril stepped down from the gates. Two soldiers moved to each door, pushing them open. The steel made an almighty noise as it dragged against the stone floor. Behind the gates was the fortress' main bailey. All thirteen men stepped inside.

Walking in a straight line from the gate brought them to the fortress' main entrance: two great oak doors decoracted in imagery wrought in steel which was similar to the imagery on the main gate. They were unlocked with a smaller iron key and the locking mechanism took less time to move the locking bars than the previous one. Each door required only one soldier to push it open, making less noise as the wood dragged against stone.

The company of men stepped into the entrance hall. Stone pillars supported the roof; hanging from them were great fabric banners bearing the crowned stag of Baratheon inside the burning heart of R'hllor. As Davos got the keys off Syril, telling him to return home, Lord Manderly chuckled gleefully, admiring the excellent arcitecture. "Truly a fortress of kings," he stated confidently. "We'll have to replace these banners with the direwolf of Stark, your onion and the merman of Manderly." He pulled down one of the banners. It tumbled to the floor, the wooden pole the top it was wrapped around clattering against the stone.

Davos led them through the corridors and halls of the Targaryen fortress, all the way to the throne room. It was a great chamber sitting next to the triangular tower at the centre of the fortress. Three tall windows lined each side of the hall, letting in grey sunlight. Any torches hanging in the iron sconces on the walls were long dead. The soldiers began pulling down more banners as Davos & Lord Manderly walked up to the great throne at the end of the chamber. It was carved from the same volcanic rock that the fortress was made from.

"It's yours to sit in, Lord Davos," Manderly said.

"It is," Davos replied, before ascending the shallow staircase leading to the throne. He turned around to look back at the entrance of the chamber. He sat, grimaced and looked to Lord Manderly. "Needs a cushion." Manderly let out a bellowing laugh that filled the entire room.

Before long, those from the fleet began to arrive at the fortress. They brought banners & furniture, food & other supplies. The stewards who'd come with them had brought several cages of ravens. The first thing that Davos had them send was a message to Winterfell. They wrote his words: Arrived on Dragonstone after two and a half weeks travel. Mining should begin swiftly. Will send updates on when it has begun and how long it should be before a shipment is sent off. Lord Grafton of Gulltown met us mid-voyage. Ships from Gulltown to arrive on Dragonstone and lend help. Euron Greyjoy has joined Cersei Lannister, poses threat to our operation, will send raven should he attack. He signed the scroll himself: Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of Dragonstone & Hand of the King in the North. The stewards had made him some wax presses. He chose black for the colour of his sealing wax, pressing into it the onion of Seaworth.

The caves storing the dragonglass were found in the base of the volcano before nightfall. Mining began the next day. At the same time Dragonstone became a northern fortress. The direwolf of Stark hung proudly within its stone halls, as did the black ship with a white onion on its sail that was Davos' sigil and the merman of Manderly. Davos moved in-between the mines and fortress throughout the day. Luckily, the entrance to the mines wasn't too far away, the road leading to them broke off from the road connecting Dragonstone and largest the village.

The dragonglass was transported across the island to the docks on the eastern side. The smallfolk put up no fuss about the new presense on the island, so long as it did not become a bother. Days became a routine. Dinners were thin stew with sour wine and yellow ale. Davos ate with Manderly and his top men, laughing at each other's stories. Days were spent waking and making his way to the mines to inspect them, hearing reports from the foremen in charge. Slowly but surely, the mining gained speed. Davos smiled knowing, at the very least, one shipment of dragonglass would make it north. And it will make all the difference when the White Walkers finally attack.