So, the last episode KIND OF didn't happen in this world. Everyone deserved better, and hopefully, I can do these guys and gals justice!
They sailed back to a still-smoldering King's Landing, with no dock to speak of anymore. Sandor gingerly slipped off the ship and into the shallows as Davos jumped the rails and landed easily down below. Together, they walked ashore and Sandor gripped his blade as they walked towards what was left of the Red Keep.
The glow from the fires lit the twilight sky, throwing shadows and colors everywhere. He still hated fire, still was scared shitless, but since the fall and the fire after, there was nothing else to lose. He'd had his revenge, but the ironic part was now he was even more burnt and beaten than before.
But, he had a friend. Aside from the Girl, Davos was one of the rare creatures that didn't annoy the fuck out of him. Maybe it was because he understood what it was like to have a part noticeably missing. Or the street-smarts. When he was guarding Joffrey, he'd sometimes see the older man walking along the alleys of Flea Bottom, always alone, never drawing attention from anyone.
He stuck close to his friend, who would tell the survivors to follow him, and soon, a small group had been gathered and were taken back down to the beaches. Davos had a quiet steadfastness about him, never panicking if a tower gave way and collapsed before them, stopping to listen for the cries of the buried.
Davos put every able-bodied person to work, pointing to piles and telling them to dig, salvaging food from the marketplace, and putting Sandor in charge of stockpiling weapons.
Okay, he could do this. He had a job. He had a focus. One thing at a time.
Axes, shields, swords, and spears were all pried from the crisp bodies that lay next to them. He'd been used to the smell since he was just a boy, but the sounds… It sounded as if a roast chicken had been pried apart at its breast, its skin crackling and crunching with each movement.
Maybe save the chicken analogy for another time, there.
Davos was down at the pier, Yara beside him and together, they had the Iron-born and the survivors loading supplies into the small boats on their way to the bigger ships.
"This boat," Davos pointed at one moored nearby. "Fill it with as many weapons as you can. This will be your boat, got that?"
Sandor just nodded and gritted his teeth, dumping his armload and limping away again. It was exhausting and mind-numbing work, but every time he saw Davos at the docks, the older man would send people over to help carry the load.
Suddenly, a strange green mist started to creep in, swirling with the heavy smoke that still lingered everywhere. Something wasn't right, he thought, the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise.
He looked up, expecting the Dragon-bitch to come riding back and burn everyone, but through the smoke, he only saw ashes flying and falling. Maybe some sort of Wildfire that was spreading?
What now?
One of the children looked down and pointed towards the rubble with a cry. An older man dressed in green was striding forward through the smoke and haze, a group of people behind him.
Davos went forward and embraced the older man in a massive hug.
"Howland," Davos stepped back and smiled. "It's been too long, thank you for coming."
"We received your Raven that was meant for Winterfell." Howland replied, looking around in shock. "I rallied the Crannogmen and we have come to help, and also sent a healthy Raven to finish carrying the message."
Davos and Howland sent fresh men and women to relieve the exhausted soldiers posted at every possible opening at the walls. Howland had thought to bring fresh food, fresh horses, and cloth and medicines to help the wounded.
Howland paused by Sandor as he was just dumping another armload of weapons in his boat. The little man seemed to be studying him, and then began to rummage through his pockets of his green outfit. He produced a bottle and pressed it into Sandor's hand, looking him in the eyes.
"Leave your shirt off," Howland told him. "And rub this into the cracks, it will help with the pain and the healing."
Howland turned to go but stopped. "Funny," he cocked his head. "I hadn't seen the flowers grow for many years until now…"
Sandor uncorked the bottle and gave it a sniff, and sure enough, the overpowering smell of the yellow flowers wafted through the air. He pushed the cork back inside and gave Howland a small nod of thanks.