The icy winds shook Shireen awake from a fitful rest. With grains of fatigue in her eyes, she sat up and looked around.
"We are almost there my lady."
Shireen smiled tiredly at Devan Seaworth, who had spoken. There were dark shadows under Devan's brown eyes – had he slept at all? Shireen looked down at her wounded father, who was still unconscious. Three days ago, they – the Onion Knight, Devan, Father and herself – were still living in the Red Keep preparing for a siege. Father was checking the food stores and readying the castle defences – it all changed when the gold cloaks opened the city gates, declaring for King Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of His Name.
The hour that followed was awful. So many of Father's men Shireen knew had been slaughtered and one of the false Aegon's men wounded Father in the arm. It was mayhem. Ladies and children were locked in their rooms and those wearing Baratheon badges were roughly cut down where they stood. It was thanks to Ser Davos and Devan that Father was still alive.
Dressed in plain clothes, Shireen and her father were smuggled out of the Red Keep by Ser Davos and Devan. Father's wound was bandaged and he was given a drop or two of milk of the poppy to help him deal with the pain. It was something Father wouldn't have approved as he did not like milk of the poppy helping ease the pain, but it was a matter of urgency. Ser Davos then managed to find a cart in relatively good condition and place Father (with Devan's help) on it. Shireen and Devan boarded the cart as well and Ser Davos attached the cart to a horse and in a rapid speed, smuggled them out of King's Landing and rode in the directions of the Stormlands without stopping all afternoon. The poor horse was worn out yet Ser Davos was adamant in his decision not to stop and rest until they reached the seat of House Errol, Haystack Hall.
"Why Haystack Hall?" Shireen remembered asking the Onion Knight. "Storm's End is surely a safer choice."
"Storm's End will be the first place the false dragon and his men will hunt for us milady," Ser Davos had responded. "If not Storm's End, then they will look for you and Lord Baratheon at Greenstone, the seat of your Estermont relations. It'll be best for your lord father to recover in a location the false dragon will not think to look like Haystack Hall or Evenfall Hall." Shireen suddenly understood another reason why Ser Davos decided on those locations: both were ideally located close to the Narrow Sea. If it comes to it, Ser Davos could smuggle her and Father both to Essos and when it comes to the sea, Ser Davos was a master of smuggling. She had wondered if Haystack Hall was safe as it was quite close to Parchments, seat of House Penrose. The Penroses were honourable and loyal to Father, but they'd had excellent relations with the Targaryens in the past…
"Ser Davos?" said Shireen softly.
The Onion Knight glanced at her quickly before turning back to the front. "Aye, milady? What is it?"
"Thank you for helping me and my father."
"Only doing my duty milady." The Onion Knight gave her a small smile, yet his eyes were full of worry. Shireen recognised that expression well.
"What of Casterly Rock?" Shireen said quietly to Devan. "Do you think my late mother's family would help us?"
"They wouldn't welcome your lord father my lady," said Devan honestly. "Your father wanted justice more than House Lannister's support." Shireen was pleased at Devan's bluntness. Lately, more young courtiers approached and spoke to her, but their words were so often coated with obvious flattery that Shireen found it a little amusing. "Is that a new gown, Lady Shireen?" a Tyrell girl had simpered to her during a feast. "It looks beautiful." What Shireen had worn that night was one of her old dresses she had worn twice before.
"My uncle Tyrion will not abandon us."
"He is not the Lord of Casterly Rock though, my lady."
Shireen nodded sadly. "A great pity."
"At least the Lannisters will not ally themselves with the false dragon. Not that the false dragon will want them anyway my lady."
Shireen sighed. "How many times did I tell you to call me Shireen? You are one of my closest friends, Devan."
Devan looked uncomfortable. "I'm your father's squire, my lady. He will not be pleased if he discovers me calling you by your ah, name my lady." He then offered her a slice of bread. "Bread?" Shireen shook her head. Her stomach was crammed full with anxiety and unease – it had been for the whole day. Looking down at her father, Shireen wished she had learnt more about nursing. If she had, she'd know how to keep Father alive. She needed him; her family needed him; the realm was in need of him. It was not the right time for Father to die.
May the Seven have mercy, Shireen prayed, staring at the hazy outline of House Errol's keep as Ser Davos urged the horse closer. May the Seven spare Father. May the Stranger look the other way. It was unfair of Maester Jurne to have said to her, "You do not need to learn the skills of nursing, Lady Shireen. You're already quite a charitable lady and that is plenty. Furthermore you are…uh, afflicted with-" He had made an excuse and hurried away. Shireen darkened at that memory. It was her cheek that bore the remnants of greyscale, not her hands.
"Are you worried about your sister and brothers, my lady?" Devan's words led Shireen away from her thoughts. Shireen nodded, suppressing a wince when she heard Devan say 'sister'. I had two, even if Myrcella was not Father's.
"Cassana and Steffon are both at the Eyrie," said Shireen, gazing ahead. "I hope they are safe there. It'd be disastrous if they attempt to come home." Where is our home? Storm's End or King's Landing? "Robert is at Storm's End. He will be safe. I pray that he is." Father seemed keen on Robert having a career as a knight of the Kingsguard and summoned the finest swordsmen of the Stormlands to come and instruct Robert at Storm's End. "Are you worried about your brothers?"
Devan nodded. "My older brothers are either attending their ships or also with Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana and Lord Arryn at the Eyrie. They are good with a shield and sword…" He hesitated. "But they are better on a warship. My younger brothers should be safe with my mother. I haven't seen them in quite some time. To my knowledge, they are either still with Mother at the Rainwood or learning a bit about letters and numbers in the schoolroom at Storm's End. Lord Baratheon had always been kind to us Seaworths."
"We won't forget it either," Ser Davos called. "Milady, we are almost there." He pulled the reins of his horse to a halt as three Errol men rode towards them from Haystack Hall's gates.
"Merchants and tradesmen cannot come at this hour," the man with whiskers said sternly. He looked at Shireen and then at Devan with suspicion. "We aren't at all interested in disfigured whores either." Shireen's mouth dropped open. She'd heard many cruel words taunted at her before, but disfigured whore? Devan leapt out of the cart and said hotly to the Errol men, "That is Lady Shireen Baratheon, a daughter of the Hand of the King and a royal cousin to King Orys Baratheon. If he – the king – hears you called his beloved cousin a disfigured whore, he'll demand your head. I can assure you of that."
Shireen felt her cheeks redden as the Errol men's eyes flickered towards her a second time, one of them blushing from embarrassment.
"I'm Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of the Rainwood," said Ser Davos promptly. He pointed at Devan. "My son Devan." He gestured to Shireen. "Lady Shireen. If all of you care to look in the cart, you'll see that we have the wounded Lord Baratheon, who was stabbed in the arm by one of the false dragon's men. He needs help."
"False dragon?" One of the Errol men frowned. "Are you mad, Onion Knight?"
"The gold cloaks betrayed us," spoke Shireen. "There is war. We travelled for a good many days without proper rest. We seek shelter and the hospitality of your lord, Lord Errol." She had met the previous head of House Errol, Lady Shyra, and liked her. Lady Shyra was kind to everyone and was very gracious. Sadly she died a year ago from falling from her horse, and now it was her cousin Sebastion, who was Lord of Haystack Hall. Shireen had never met Lord Sebastion before and the only rare piece of news she heard about him was that he had married the elderly Lord Penrose's granddaughter, Lady Laera Penrose.
"Of-of course milady," stammered the third guard. He turned and shouted to a waiting guard, "OPEN THE GATES!"
Shireen almost sighed with relief. Father needed to be attended to at once. The cart moved again, slowly through the gates and into Haystack Hall's courtyard. It was a solid castle, Haystack Hall. It wasn't small, nor large; a modest size. Waving high on the three round turrets were the banners bearing the Errol sigil: a yellow haystack, on an orange field.
Once Ser Davos pulled the horse to a stop again, he climbed down and helped Shireen out of the cart before grabbing hold of Father with Devan. A couple more Errol men came and aided Ser Davos and Devan.
"No, no, allow me," said another Errol man hurrying to seize Father's legs from Ser Davos's slackening grip. "Lord Errol will be expecting you, your son and Lady Shireen in the Great Hall immediately, Lord Seaworth. My men and I can take the King's Hand to the maester. We'll ensure your horse be tended to as well." One of the maidservants who stood nearby stepped up to Shireen and gave her a smile – one that not reached her cold, blue eyes. "You must be Lady Shireen," the woman said with a tone Shireen recognised as false warmth. The woman's eyes flickered at Shireen's left cheek. Shireen's gaze hardened. "I've been instructed to take you to the Great Hall," the woman told her.
"What of Ser Davos and Devan?" asked Shireen.
"They will come too. Lady Errol had instructed me to serve you my lady." That unhappy expression on the woman's face was clear. She had no wish to serve one afflicted by greyscale.
Shireen followed the maidservant inside the keep and into the Great Hall with Ser Davos behind her. Ser Davos had told Devan to go with the Errol men to keep an eye on her father and to ensure he was taken care of at once. Shireen couldn't help but admire Ser Davos's loyalty. He had done so much for her family – he had smuggled onions to Father in Uncle Robert's war, he served Father as the captain of his ships and advisor faithfully and he smuggled Father and herself away from King's Landing at the risk of his own life. There weren't many men or women like Ser Davos Seaworth.
The Great Hall was similar to the other Great Halls Shireen had seen and dined in, which were not that many. There were the large oak doors, the high table atop the dais, four long trestle tables and two empty earths. Lord Errol and his family, had already been seated at the high table.
"Presenting the Lady Shireen of House Baratheon," announced the green-eyed Errol man who stood at the bottom of the dais, "and Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of the Rainwood." He looked expectantly at Lord Errol.
Shireen watched Lord Sebastion Errol rise from his place. He looked to be of a normal height with pale blue eyes and hair the colour of fresh straw. Like a great number of lords and ladies, Lord Errol wore the colours of his House in fine silk. Lord Sebastion's lips curved into a warm smile and he beckoned for Shireen and Ser Davos to step forward.
"Lady Shireen," said Lord Sebastion, giving Shireen a polite nod. "It is always a tremendous honour to meet my liege lord's family members. I heard from one of my men that your father, Lord Baratheon, is injured. All our prayers are with him, my lady." He turned and gazed at Ser Davos with interest. "The famous Ser Onion Knight!" he declared, "and a fellow lord of the Stormlands. Welcome to my home, Haystack Hall. Any lord, knight or squire is welcome in my castle."
"Thank you milord," said Ser Davos gruffly. "I trust you've heard the news?"
"A minute before your arrival, Lord Seaworth," said Lord Errol swiftly. "Come and join us. Both of you must be famished." He gave a sharp nod at the lords and ladies around him and the majority of them stood up and began walking away to either one of the trestle tables or out the door, leaving the high table abandoned with the exception of Lord Errol, Lady Errol and a grey-haired man.
Hesitating, Shireen climbed up the short steps onto the dais and was seated to Lady Errol's left whilst Ser Davos was given the honour of sitting between the old, grey-haired man and Lord Errol.
"Introductions," said Lord Errol as the servants placed a bowl of hot soup and a generous chunk of bread in front of Shireen. "My wife, Lady Laera Penrose, and my uncle, Ser Stanwell Errol. Ser Stanwell is one of my most trusted advisors and an excellent soldier."
Shireen gave Ser Stanwell Errol and Lady Errol a respectful nod. She looked at her meal as her stomach grumbled. The soup was more of a hearty broth with an aroma of beef and onion wafting towards Shireen's nose. Bits of meat swam with chopped pieces of carrots and onion in the bowl.
As Shireen began to eat, she listened to the Onion Knight, Ser Stanwell and the Lord of Haystack Hall talk.
"I received a letter from a man claiming to be Rhaegar's son," Lord Errol began, breaking his bread in two. "I thought it was a jape of sorts but I heard a couple of days ago from my good-father Ser Cortnay Penrose that his father Lord Penrose, had also received a letter identical to mine. Then there was word that the lords of the Crownlands joined that man – not certain if it was out of fear or loyalty – and the Marcher lords claimed there were Dornish armies amassing on the borders." He shook his head. "So much astonishing news. Utter lunacy."
"It is not lunacy milord Errol," said Ser Davos patiently. "It's true. The Dornish have joined the false Aegon and with the Crownlands men, bribed the gold cloaks and invaded King's Landing."
"They slaughtered my father's men," Shireen broke in, her hands shaking. The men and Lady Errol stared at her. "I was there," Shireen continued. "I stood there and those men killed my father's men in front of me. I knew my father's men...all of them…" She took a deep breath. "Some never spoke to me, but I knew all their names. I knew who they were. Watching them die in front of me…"
"How cruel!" exclaimed Lady Errol, shaking her head. "How barbaric!"
Lord Errol looked at Shireen, full of sympathy. "My lady, that's an act of horror that no lady or child should be subjected to. You have my word of honour that no harm will occur when you are here under my roof."
"Thank you my lord," said Shireen, smiling weakly.
"There is no doubt that the false Aegon will have his eyes on the Stormlands," said Ser Davos, returning the conversation to the false Aegon.
"I cannot lead the Storm lords into war," said Lord Errol regretfully. "Like you, Lord Seaworth, I am only a Storm lord. Now if it was Lord Baratheon summoning his bannermen to war, I would answer his calls at once."
"Lord Baratheon's wounded and unconscious," Ser Davos pointed out. "I don't think he's in any position to summon his banners."
"I will." The words slipped through Shireen's lips. For the second time that day – no, that hour – the three men stared at her, Ser Davos impressed, Ser Stanwell a little disdainful and Lord Errol indulgent. "As the eldest child of Lord Baratheon, I summon the banners."
"Laera," said Lord Errol addressing his wife but keeping his eyes on Shireen. "I believe the Lady Shireen had not yet seen our gardens. Why not escort her there?" He smiled benevolently at Shireen.
Shireen liked gardens and would not have objected to a stroll in the gardens of Haystack Hall if not for the fact there was a war looming very closely and naught was done only because Father was wounded and Steffon away in the Vale. It's not at all like me to say these words, Shireen thought worriedly as Ser Davos began to speak again. She had never dreamt of leading men to battle nor being rescued by a knight in shining armour; her dreams revolved around acceptance and a lovely family supper at Storm's End with Father smiling and Mother laughing. My father rarely smiles and Mother…Mother never laughed. Shireen pushed those thoughts from her mind. She needed to convince Lord Errol she was proficient and not the terrified, frightened girl he thought she was.
Taking a deep breath, Shireen looked at Lord Errol in the eye and asked, "Lord
Errol, do you wish to have your lands ravaged by sellswords and your title taken away from you? What do you think this false Aegon promised his followers? Gold, lands, titles, power. No one would believe that any ordinary man with Targaryen features to be Rhaegar Targaryen's son unless they were promised lands, jewels, gold and titles. I can assure you, Lord Errol, that even if you declare your House a neutral House, once my cousin King Orys wrests King's Landing from the dragon pretender, he will turn his ire on storm lords who failed to help him. The lords of the Stormlands have served House Baratheon for centuries. My cousin King Orys will be more furious at those who did naught than those who had the nerve to be fighting for the false dragon."
To Shireen's delight, Lord Errol's expression had changed from indulgence to a look of unease.
"You're quite your ah…" said Lord Errol, attempting to find his words. "You're quite a convincing lady, Lady Shireen. Indeed, a Baratheon. However, if your lord father is incapable of leading an army, surely it would fall to your brother Steffon Baratheon? He is still alive and well."
"Steffon cannot call men to war from the Eyrie," said Shireen steadily, "if he is at the Eyrie now. I have no intention of usurping my brother's place as heir. If my brother appears, I will gladly leave him in charge. I am only trying to do my duty, Lord Errol. In the absence of my lord father and brother, I am the eldest daughter and I will call the banners in Lord Baratheon's name."
"Who will lead your men from Storm's End? Forgive me my lady, but I find it a little hard to believe you were trained to fight with a sword."
"There are trusted men at Storm's End."
"You cannot summon the lords here my lady. The false dragon will think that I orchestrated it and will order his men to march here!"
"I doubt the false dragon knows you Lord Errol," said Ser Davos bluntly. "He's from the Free Cities, not here. The most he'll know is the location of the seats of a Great House or two."
"I'll write the letters to all the storm lords," decided Shireen, standing up. "May I use your ravens, Lord Errol?"
"Of course," said Lord Errol uncertainly, standing up too. "The maester will be happy to send all the summons. Our fastest ravens are at your disposal." Shireen thanked him and began to follow the maidservant down the dais steps, out of the Great Hall and plunged into the maze of corridors. This is not me, Shireen couldn't help think sadly. I would never be so bold, so presumptuous. I would never think of being acting Lady of Storm's End. She felt her cheeks grow red.
"Are you unwell my lady?" inquired the maidservant, glancing at her.
Shireen shook her head. "A little warm, that is all." She forced herself to smile. What would Father think, when he discovered what she had done? Would Father be pleased she did what she believed was her duty, or would be furious she took it upon herself to deal with a matter that no noble lady should deal with?
"Here is your chamber my lady," said the maidservant, pushing open a door. It was a good-sized room – bigger than Shireen's old bedchamber that is. "I will ask for the maester if it's your wish."
"Later. I must write the letters first."
"Of course my lady." The maidservant closed the door behind Shireen. Shireen looked around, agitation slowly bubbling in her stomach. Why am I so afraid? The Errols are Father's bannermen – they will never betray us. Why does it feel like they would? Shireen shivered. Was it Lord Errol's genial demeanour? The scowl that'd perpetually stayed on Ser Stanwell's face? Lady Errol's silence?
We should've ridden to Storm's End. Dread crept onto Shireen's arms. What the Onion Knight had feared made sense, but there was something he had forgotten: Storm's End had never surrendered or lost in a siege before.
We should have ridden to Storm's End. I should've insisted. The Errols are almost strangers – in fact they are. We should never have trusted Lord Errol.
It was too late now; the storm was coming to Haystack Hall.
I'm so busy with work and uni these days that I keep forgetting to upload this chapter. Ugh. This chapter was intended to be an Arianne chapter but it didn't work out so I scrapped it and tried it in Shireen's instead. She might seem a little OOC, but we never really get to read much of Shireen's thoughts in the books as she didn't have a POV chapter. Moreover, she did see people die (in this chapter).
