It was a long, quiet ride from the bay, and the winds were with them that night as Davos steered and adjusted in the darkness of the new moon. Even his boots barely made footfalls down the steps as he shucked away his black cloak and covered a few of the children who had fallen asleep.
Sandor had settled against one of the benches, having passed the babe off to one of the older girls. He had long since lost his shirt to wrap the babe in, and the cool breeze of Blackwater Bay felt good on his cooked skin. He dared not look into anything with a reflection, for he knew that what the rest of his body was going to look like: Like his mangled face that he was so ashamed of for almost his whole life.
Funny how things have changed. Funny how things stayed the same. His old home, King's Landing, the very place where he'd sworn to protect, was no more. He hoped the Girl made it out safe, but for all he knew, she was dead with the rest of them.
Davos opened a crate of hard tack and together, they passed the biscuits out to the children, who took it but didn't eat. They were too scared, too traumatized, to do much of anything except huddle together and cry softly.
He briefly remembered when he was a young boy, too traumatized by the fire to do much of anything except cry. His father beat that out of him quick, so he learned to just not cry in front of people. He learned to change his own dressings, hissing from the pain as he peeled away the pus-soaked cloth from his face. He learned to find the flower that lessened the pain, out in the woods by the creek.
Those memories stopped him from yelling at the crying group of children. He gritted his teeth as the cries and sobs finally subsided into hiccups and then the soft sighs of sleep. He stood watch, his leg aching again, but his hand never unclenched his sword.
"A good night for sailing." Davos remarked, coming back down the steps.
"Never did like the water much." He grunted, tearing off a piece of hard tack with his teeth.
"You learn to love it." The older man replied, looking up at the sky. "The salt air, the breeze, the colors… It's always changing. Never the same."
For once, Sandor didn't really have a smart-ass reply, he just chewed silently.
"My home." Davos sighed.
"What's gonna happen to them?" Sandor asked, jerking his head towards the children.
"King's Landing is no more." Davos answered. "I've scraped together what was left of the Ravens to send word to meet at the Dragonstone."
"You don't think that Dragon-bitch is gonna burn that too?"
"No, I don't think that will happen." Davos leaned up against the railings and stretched. "If she dares come close, I'll give her a piece of my mind."
"A piece of your mind?" Sandor snorted. "Wow, remind me to never face you in an open field!"
Davos chuckled a little, grateful for his companion's offbeat sense of humor. Davos then returned to his sentry at the wheel and Sandor turned back towards the children.
Finally, Davos steered them into the safety of the Dragonstone as the dawn was just breaking. There, a whole fleet of beautiful ships awaited them as Sandor and Davos let down the gangplank to help the children. Black sails and golden krakens shimmered in the sunrise, and a beautiful brown-haired woman stepped off the largest ship, taking one of the children into her arms.
"Davos," she said, standing up. "What… What happened? Where's everyone else?"
"We don't know." The old man sighed, looking grey and washed-out in the morning light. "I… I got what I could Yara, but…"
"You did wonderful." She put a hand on his shoulder. "These children will be survivors. The new generation to tell our story."
She then turned around and began commanding her men and women to tend to the children, leaving Sandor and Davos alone on the docks.
"There was a small island we passed on the way here," Sandor informed. "If you're going back, I want to be dropped off there to die."
"Oh no, son," Davos shook his head. "You can't die yet, we still need you."
"NEED ME?!" he retorted. "What good am I? My goose is cooked and so am I."
"We're going back," Davos told him. "We need to help."
"Help? Since when do I want to…"
"NOW." Davos snapped back, pointing at him. "Look, we'll need all the people we can get, save your bitching until after. You either lead, follow, or get the hell outta my way!"
With that, Davos stormed back up the gangplank and paused at the top for just one brief moment. Sandor threw his hands up in frustration and followed like the obedient pup he was going to have to be again.