At Dragonstone…

Lord Stannis Baratheon had returned to the island fortress of Dragonstone, having made the voyage back to his stronghold. The Lord of Dragonstone had a lot on his mind – with the recent decision to imprison his oldest and most trusted supporter, Ser Davos Seaworth, for attempting to assassinate Melisandre in full view of everyone around him and threatening to inform his nephew King Daveth I Baratheon of everything the red priestess had been doing; he felt indifferent to the Onion Knight's survival. Now having recently returned from war, Stannis ascended the steps in a nearby tower and already had chill reunion with his wife Lady Selyse of House Florent over the visitation of their only child.

"You must keep away from such distractions," Selyse said to dissuade Stannis, but was ignored when he retorted with "She's my daughter. I want to see her."

Having won the argument, Stannis trekked the hallways to the nearest room where he heard singing from the other side of the door. Quietly opening it, Stannis looked upon a young 13-year-old girl lying in bed. His daughter and only living child, Shireen Baratheon, had long dark hair with blue eyes, inherited her father's square jutting jaw and her mother's large ears. Laying her head on a pillow, Shireen hummed a melody.

"The sea I know, I know; Oh, oh, oh," she sang. "The birds have scales; and the fish take wing. I know, I know; oh, oh, oh."

Stannis cleared his throat. "Shireen."

Tilting her head up, Shireen's smile was deep. "Father!" she exclaimed happily.

Jumping from her bed, the girl rushed to greet her father and embraced him tightly. Stannis looked down at his daughter, lifting his brow briefly and cleared his throat again. Shireen released her embrace, and stared up at him – her innocent, blue eyes meeting his.

"You've grown since the last time I saw you," he pointed out.

"Mother said you and cousin Daveth fought in a battle. The Second Greyjoy Rebellion, the minstrel's been calling it," she stated, escorting her father with her as they both sat down on the bed. "Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Did the Onion Knight come back with you?"

Stannis temporarily froze; his hard, steel blue eyes broke contact at the mere mention of Ser Davos's moniker. "He did," he admitted. "Both he and his son Matthos fought bravely."

"But he hasn't come to see me. He said he'd bring me back a present from the capital once the battle was over."

"He won't be visiting, child."

Shireen frowned. "Why not? He's my friend," she said and stood up, scrounging around in her little box before pulling out a small, wooden boat. "Look. He made this for me. But don't tell mother I have it. It's a secret. Mother doesn't like the Onion Knight."

Stannis examined the toy boat before handing it back. "Ser Davos is a traitor," he firmly yet gently told her. "He's rotting in a dungeon cell for his crime. Best forget him."

"But—"

"We've received a royal summons from your cousin. The trial will take place within a fortnight. Be sure you look presentable."

Shireen lowered her head in sadness, her fingers brushing over the boat Ser Davos made for her as Stannis stood up from the bedside and left the room.

'Maybe I could convince cousin Daveth to free him…' she thought. 'Of course, I'd have to be granted an audience first.'

"And where's—?"

"Melisandre said she had some business to attend to somewhere in the Riverlands. Best not speak of it again."

The young Baratheon girl, still unconvinced about what her father told her, waited until nightfall before she awoke from her early slumber. Grabbing a small pack, Shireen grabbed a few books and slung the bag over her shoulder before making her next move. Slowly pushing the door in her room open, Shireen peered her head out—looking left and right to ensure the coast was clear. Once she was certain all was clear, the young Baratheon quietly snuck out of her room and climbed down the steps of the Stone Drum.

Upon entering the dungeon cells, Shireen peers around the corner to see the gaoler, who was a rather known drunk, passed out with a large mug of ale. Snoring loudly, Shireen saw her opportunity and quietly crept past him until she finally arrived at her destination. Dropping to her knees, Shireen looked into the cell to see the person she's been searching for—Ser Davos Seaworth. Judging by his raggedy hair, Davos appeared to be an emotional wreck and suffered sleepless nights since his son Matthos died. Last he heard King Daveth awarded House Seaworth a posthumous knighthood to Matthos in recognition for his dedicated service and loyalty to the crown. Davos was proud of his son, but that did little to lessen the heartache.

"Ser Onion Knight," Shireen whispered.

Davos's ears perked up, looking around his cell to figure who was calling him. Glancing towards his right, his eyes widened at his visitor.

"My lady?" he exclaimed in surprise and stood up rather quickly, making his way towards the cell bars. "Gods, what are you doing here?"

"Shh! You'll wake Bert."

"Bert?"

"He's the fat one. He's on guard duty tonight. He likes to drink wine and sleep a lot."

It was no secret that Shireen was close with Ser Davos. The young Baratheon girl was indeed rather fond of him and considers the Onion Knight a friend, while Davos who loves her like his own daughter. His facial expression marked surprise and concern, but not for himself.

"You know you're not supposed to be here," Davos whispered. "If your father finds you here…"

"He said you were a traitor," she said. "Are you?"

Davos wanted to tell Shireen what bothered him, but found himself unable to get the words out. He was too emotionally worn out. "I disobeyed my liege lord, child. Your father, and now I'm paying the price."

Shireen shook her head defiantly. "I don't care. You're my friend," she said and reached into her sack to pull out one of her books. "I brought you something to read. It's about Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons. Aegon used to live here. Did you know that? And the Targaryens built this castle."

Davos found himself smiling at Shireen's excitement at retelling the histories of the Targaryens; it was like spending time with his family all over again; whatever grief the Onion Knight felt was slowly beginning to heal at the interaction between him and Stannis's daughter Shireen Baratheon—despite the circumstances.

"Aye, so they did," he told her.

Shireen handed Davos the book. "Here. You can hide it under your cloak," she offered. "It's a good one. I'll bring you more."

Davos shook his head. "I'm sure it's a fine book, but it's wasted on me."

"Take it. I have more," Shireen insisted.

"My lady, I can't read the words," the Onion Knight confessed.

Shireen raised an eyebrow, tilting her head sideways in confusion before realization finally set in. "You don't know how to read?"

Davos shook his head.

"All right, then. I'll teach you. I'll come when Bret's on duty. It'll be fun."

"No, no, no," the Onion Knight shook his head again. "We can't."

"Why not? What will they do, lock us in cells?"

Davos snickered at Shireen's witty retort, gazing upon the book she was holding. "I wouldn't know where to start," he traced his finger over the cover.

"At the beginning," she said, turning the pages. "This word right here? It's 'Aegon.' When you see 'A', 'E', and 'G' together like that, it sounds like 'egg'. And the title of the whole book is A History of Aegon the Conqueror and His Conquest of Westeros."

Ser Davos leaned against the wall of his cells, leaning his head closely at the book Shireen Baratheon was reading to him. As he listened to her words, his mind remained set on this moment; however brief it may be – come the dawn, the Dragonstone household will be preparing to travel to King's Landing to act as witnesses for the trial of the captive ironborn hostages. Until then, that can wait. For now, Davos and Shireen practiced throughout the night, ignoring what remained on the other side of the world.

######

Somewhere in the Hollow Hill…

Deep within the Riverlands, the Brotherhood Without Banners sat by the campfire. Among the men, Bodrin sat by the fire – his old hands shook as he still bore witness to the events taking place over the last several days; the small folk whisperer had been within the Riverlands for a long time with Gendry, who stood on the opposite side of the clearing of the cave – listening to his hammer hitting solid steel on a makeshift anvil. Bodrin watched the boy closely, noticing how much he resembled a certain someone in regards to physical appearance.

"Still spooked, old man?"

Bodrin looked at Thoros of Myr, who laid upon his makeshift quilt with his head on a stone drinking rum from his flask. He observed the red priest closely across the flames.

"What becomes of us now? Me and Gendry?" he asked. "The Hound is gone to who-knows-where, especially after that whole debacle with Lord Beric Dondarrion. Tell me, what do you have in store for us?"

"Lad's a pretty good smith," Thoros answered. "And you…? Well, you've got connections in high places. We could use good people like you. At first light we'll ride for Riverrun before Edmure Tully departs for the Twins."

"Why Riverrun?"

"He'll make a contribution to our cause, and if you two prefer to part ways with us then you're both free to go."

Bodrin raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Just like that? I get the feeling there's more going on than you appear to be telling me."

"Try not to think of it like that," the red priest shook his head.

"And that butcher?"

Thoros looked lost in thought. "Karrem still mourns the loss of his boy, and still has a hard time coping with the fact that his son's killer was set free."

"It's hard thing for a father to lose a child."

"Aye. That it is."

'Understandably so, but I feel the butcher might pose a problem,' Bodrin theorized.

Thoros appeared to look as if he knew what the old man was thinking. "Beric admired the King's late father-in-law and owed him a great deal, you know; even funded our mission for a time."

"Lord Eddard Stark was an honorable man," Bodrin agreed. "Men like him are hard to come by, and sadly most of them don't live long back in the capital."

"That they don't."

Bodrin watched as Beric Dondarrion made his way towards them and sat down next to Thoros. He watched the old man with his one eye for a moment before noticing his hands trembling slightly.

"You appear disturbed at what you saw, Bodrin," he told him. "I don't blame you. Not many lived to see the things we in the Brotherhood have seen. You disapprove of my earlier decision."

"You mean the Hound?" Bodrin asked. "You let him go after he admitted to killing the butcher's boy. He showed no remorse for his past deeds, and will still be hunted down as a fugitive for desertion at Blackwater Bay."

"I know, but letting him go was the right thing. I have more reason to want him hanged."

"I thought he killed you. Then you…"

Beric understood where this conversation was going. "He did," he told him.

"But how…?" Bodrin pressed.

"Thoros," the Brotherhood leader turned to his companion, "our friend here appears to be rather confused. How many times have you brought me back?"

Thoros lifted his flask. "It's the Lord of Light who brings you back," he told him. "I'm just the lucky drunk who says the words."

"Yes, but how many times?"

"Five?" the red priest scratched his beard. "No, no, no. This makes… ah, six. Six times."

'Six?' Bodrin looked puzzled. In his mind, there was no logical explanation that anyone could have been killed six times and be brought back to life every time. It wasn't possible. "When did…?"

"The fight with the Mountain was the first time. Show him," Thoros beseeched Beric.

The Lord of Blackhaven and leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners undid the laces on his tunic so that he could open it and show Bodrin the scars covering his chest. He ran his fingers over the scars before moving onto the next.

"First time was when the Mountain drove a lance right though the chest."

Beric chimed in. "Then I was stabbed in the belly."

"Then it was an arrow in the back," Thoros continued. "And that axe in the side."

"Then the Mountain suffocated me with a tight leather cord while his lackeys 'played' with me. Was it death by strangulation or a dagger in the eye?" the Lord of Blackhaven lifted the patch over his eye.

"Both. Fuckers couldn't decide. And the Hound makes six."

Beric shook his head. "The third time I've been killed by a Clegane."

"You think you'd learn by now," Thoros chuckled before it came to a quick end. "It's not getting any easier."

"What do you mean?" asked Bodrin.

"Every time I come back… I'm a bit less," Beric explained. "Pieces of you get chipped away when you're brought back from the dead."

Bodrin moved to settle the shaking in his palms, listening to what the men were telling him. He still couldn't wrap his mind around all that transpired in this very cave while a war raged around them. Even so, Bodrin reached into his pocket and pulled out an old amulet.

"What's that?" Thoros asked.

Bodrin pressed his thumb on the side of it, the sound of clicking made itself apparent before the locket opened up to reveal a small painting inside. In the trinket, the painting showed himself with a young man, young woman and five little children.

"A portrait," Bodrin explained, his voice breaking slightly. "My son, my daughter-in-law… and my grandchildren. They were killed when Joffrey started that godforsaken riot…"

Beric felt a wave of sympathy for his old friend, watching as Bodrin wiped away a tear. Thoros felt his pain; time had passed, but the wound was still raw and had a hard time healing. Perhaps they could give the old man a new purpose with the Brotherhood, but will he accept it? Or refuse?

"They're at rest now, old friend, somewhere," Beric tried to reassure him, his voice soft and gentle.

Bodrin looked at Beric, unconvinced. But he already knew what he had lost. He didn't need to hear sympathetic assurances again. He stood up, paying no mind to the gazes on him. Bodrin needed to get away from that for a moment. Taking a few steps towards the exit of the cave, he looked up at the night sky – the moon shined brightly along with the stars.

'The war is over, yet more will come soon,' Bodrin speculated. He turned to see Gendry mending one of the Brotherhood's armor. "You never rest with that hammer, don't you boy?" he asked.

Gendry looked up at him, shamefaced. "I'm going to stay and smith for the Brotherhood."

Bodrin couldn't believe his ears. "You're what?" he exclaimed disapprovingly, trying to keep his voice down. "Gendry, what are you saying?"

"I want to stay. They need good men."

"The Oathkeeper needs good men, too, lad."

"I almost got killed when that illborn Prince Joffrey Baratheon sent men after me to kill me," he argued.

Bodrin shook his head in disbelief. "And how is that King Daveth's fault?"

Gendry shook his head, refused to budge an inch. "Because they're brothers. Try to convince me otherwise, old man, but I'm done serving. I've served men my entire life."

"And how is what you're doing here any different from Master Mott at King's Landing?"

"Because the Brotherhood chose Lord Beric, not just 'cause he's their leader. These men are brothers. They're a family."

"You're making a mistake, Gendry," Bodrin turned back to him.

He smiled at him, almost ruefully. "Maybe, but at least I'm not dead yet."

And that was it. No matter how many times or how hard he tried, Bodrin knew he couldn't dissuade Gendry from making a choice like this. During their travels on the road since fleeing the capital he thought of the young man as a son, and went to great lengths to protect him. Here he was, young and thinking himself capable. But in Bodrin's mind… Gendry still had much to learn. The old man suspected there'd be more trouble coming, so he decided to stick around longer.

But only for his sake…

######

In the Red Keep…

Cersei Lannister trekked through the halls of the Red Keep, still fuming in the darkness of night. The Queen Mother had already spoken with her handmaiden Bernadette about dealing with certain issues that ought to be delivered to her attention. And she just recently left a conversation with Qyburn, the unethical former maester now in service to her. Cersei felt increasingly unnerved about her daughter-in-law Sansa Stark's growing popularity and her eldest son Daveth's military victory over the Iron Islands. All of whom were getting results done ever so quickly throughout the realm they formed to be an effective, well-loved pair.

The Golden Lioness's jealousy was ever growing and threatened to consume her. For a long time she dreamt she sat on the Iron Throne, high above them all. The courtiers were brightly colored mice below. Great lords and proud ladies knelt before her. Bold young knights laid their swords at her feet and pleaded for her favors, and the queen smiled down at them; until the Young Stag's face appeared from nowhere, outpacing and outmaneuvering her at nearly every turn with the Starks behind him. The lords and ladies began to chuckle, hiding their smiles behind their hands.

Cersei shook her head; she was not pleased. The Lannisters were the wealthiest and powerful families of Westeros, yet the Starks were the oldest and honorable. A power struggle brewed between these two noble houses. But that was a suspicion she dare not speak aloud – considering how far she'd fallen from her son's favor prior to the Battle of Blackwater Bay. In an effort to undermine the Stark girl's rising influence, Cersei sought to take action from behind the scenes – beginning at Flea Bottom. She glanced to her right, and noticed one of the Red Keep's apartment doors was left open ajar and a bright glowing light shone inside.

Pushing the door slightly open to get a better view, Cersei looked to see a woman dressed in crimson red robes standing in front of a pyre with her hands held out. She was whispering enchantments in a language Cersei did not understand, but she'd never allow any uninvited guests near her halls.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" Cersei demanded, making her entrance known.

The woman did not flinch, nor turn her head. "How long has it been since we last me, Queen Mother Cersei of House Lannister? Fifteen years?" she spoke calmly, gazing into the flames.

The daughter of the Rock was in no mood for games. "You know that no one is to enter or leave without my permission," she told her firmly. The command came easily to her. "How did you even get in here?"

"The desires of men are easy to exploit; sweet words or bribe of the flesh, only the true ones easily avoid temptation."

"You did not answer your Queen's question."

"I fear that this Sansa Stark is Queen now. A Queen stops being a Queen upon the death of her husband, is that how it works in this strange land?"

Cersei felt increasingly irritated, and acted on impulse moved to grab her arm. However, upon gripping the strange woman's arm, she felt a burning sensation in her palm.

"Aah!" she yelped, yanking her hand backward to reveal a bright burn on her palm.

The woman finally turned her head. "Perhaps that was not the wisest course of action on your part, Queen Mother Cersei of House Lannister."

Cersei blew air on her hand trying to cool herself down. "What vile magic is this to burn my hands?!" she demanded.

"Patience now," she replied calmly. "We've met before, you and I."

The mysterious woman pulled back her hood to reveal her face. Cersei looked at her, studying her facial structures rather closely as the pyre behind her burned brightly. Once she was capable of recognizing her, Cersei shook her head in disbelief.

"The night my son was bedridden with the fever…" she mused.

The woman nodded. "Indeed. His Grace was suffering terribly that night. I offered my service to save your firstborn's life, and it worked. We weren't properly introduced back then, of course."

Cersei shook her hand, ignoring the burning sensation. "And why should it matter to me now?" she pressed.

"If you truly wish a formal introduction, my name is Vaeraleah, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Asshai, the Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom and First Servant of the Lord of Light," she answered. "But please, just Vaeraleah."

'A priestess? Why would a priestess come here?' the Golden Lioness thought. "I've never met one of these so-called red priests or this Lord of Light."

"That is because our god R'hllor is more prominent across the Narrow Sea in Essos, but only has a few followers here. You Westerosi called him the red god."

"Well, if you have so few followers here, then you must have been terrible at it."

Vaeraleah shook her head. "Not precisely, Your Grace. We are merely servants in the Lord of Light's quest to bring about truth and understanding, yet even some of our flocks tend to misinterpret His will and stray from the true path."

Cersei rolled her eyes. "Well, as amusing as this might be, you are required to leave at once."

Before she could turn away, Vaeraleah calls out to her. "Have you ever wondered why your son's path led you to such a state of disarray?"

Cersei stopped midway before turning back at her. "Why should you care? Daveth doesn't listen to me, his own—"

"The Lord of Light has expressed His great favor towards this young man. To inflict harm on those he cherishes will bring about great misfortune… as it had with that woods witch in the swamp near Casterly Rock. You know of whom I speak?"

Feeling a chill crawl up her spine, Cersei's gaze was sharp and intense. "How did you…?"

"I receive visions from the Lord," Vaeraleah explains. "Past, present, future… such visions come easily to those who follow His will. Should I explain what future Maggy the Frog told you when you were a girl?"

Cersei moved again, only to be stopped when Vaeraleah snapped her fingers – causing the flames in the pyre behind her to shoot straight up.

'What vile magic is this?' she thought, half in awe, half in fear.

"Or should I tell you of your son Daveth Baratheon's survival? How he lived? The day you permitted me to assist in his recovery?" she offered.

Cersei stood her ground as the flames dimmed down again. Vaeraleah smiled as she cupped Cersei's chin and brought it to face her.

"Your son died that day. And with the Lord of Light's touch, I brought him back; because it was not his time, for he is one of three sides of the same pyramid – a Prince That Was Promised."

"Wha—"

"And all you need to know is that your son knows nothing of what transpired that day. I have no plans on converting him, if that's your concern. The Lord of Light wishes to establish a connection and seek perfection through understanding one another. Otherwise…"

"'Otherwise'…?" Cersei asked, feeling threatened and intimidated.

Vaeraleah smiled. "The night is dark and full of terrors, Queen Mother. Best be sure not to provoke the Lord's Chosen."

Chapter End

######

Author's Note: Some old faces and familiar ones, but what was that last part? Introducing Shireen Baratheon, Stannis's daughter and Daveth's cousin. Also included was Bodrin, one of Daveth's top informants fled into the Riverlands with Gendry. And… the identity of the mysterious red woman from the beginning made her way back into the storyline. Who is she, and what is she after now that she's come back? Was there any bombshells did you find shocking or confusing? Thoughts? Let me know.

Next chapter will include the trial of the Greyjoys; so stay tuned for more info.

BioHazard82: Another great chapter.

―Thanks.

DaddyChad: She said he is 1 of 3 sides of the pyramid, does that mean that Jon and Daenerys are the other 2?

―Yes.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work

―Thanks.

Hear My Fury: So we finally meet the Red Priestess who saved Daveth. Hopefully Cersei listens to her, because if anything she might be burning if she tries anything to Daveth or Sansa. I read that Melisandre is on a mission in the Riverlands. Please don't tell me that Stannis is plotting to usurp Daveth, because that's not in his character. the only reason he rebelled is because Joffrey and Tommen were not Robert's sons, with Daveth being his only son, he would support him no matter what.

―I seriously doubt Cersei will listen to anyone. You know how she tends to be. Even the love of her twin brother and children can't overrule her own egotistical agenda. Stannis, meanwhile, acts on a rigid sense of duty and justice so he won't rebel against Daveth.

GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: Well, least there's someone who has a clear mind then the red woman who claimed Daveth is the chosen one, and cares for him. don't think they be pleased to hear the latest news.

So anything Cercei will do, dire consequences will happen no matter how powerful she claims. Clearly she's mad and wants to usurp her own son for power.

mpowers045: Will Shireen request Daveth to pardon Davos?

―Shireen no doubt push for her cousin to set Davos free, but Daveth will need to know why the Onion Knight's imprisoned first.

ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful!

―Thanks.