Jon
The smell of roasted fish and sheep mixed with the smell of spices, but Jon felt no urge to eat. Their guests were different. Both Ser Barristan and Lord Wylis Manderly ate as if they hadn't seen a proper meal in weeks. For Jon that was a surprise, because their food was nothing special. It was surely nothing compared to the dishes they received at home. Especially, Ser Barristan must miss the delicacies of the south.
"I apologize for the meagre meal, but we didn't expect guests," Daenerys explained and handed Ser Wylis Manderly a bowl filled with steaming meat and vegetables. His Lord Father was massive man, but his son was of no slender built either. It looked quite amusing how he tried to fit himself on the cushioned seat beneath his wobbling girth. Ser Barristan, thin and agile, looked almost out of place next to Lord Wylis Manderly.
"It is no bother," Lord Wylis Manderly replied politely and spooned the food into his mouth. It was not enough, but Jon doubted Lord Wylis intended to stay for long. Ser Barristan was another matter.
"Ser Barristan," Jon addressed the elderly knight. "You mentioned that King Joffrey dismissed you. May I ask why he would do something foolish like that? Surely, the King is aware of your reputation."
Ser Barristan's gaze darkened and he put down his bowl.
"I don't think it was the King's decision. The Queen Mother wanted me gone. She always wanted her brother to rise to the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The reason was ludicrous. She accused me of negligence when I …," he continued, but stopped abruptly, a strange expression washing over his face.
"Gods…I am a fool," he muttered to himself and craned his neck to look at Jon. He looked regretful, as if he was about to apologize, but then he stopped himself and cleared his throat, before he continued to speak. "I think it is best when I start at the beginning…I met Lord Eddard Stark not long ago when he still occupied the position of Hand of the King. Now both Lord Stark and I find ourselves removed from our positions, though due to different reasons. Lord Eddard Stark was victim of a betrayal, though I admit his actions were quite risky given his weak position at court. Now I regret that I didn't try to warn him, but back then I was foremost a member of the Kingsguard…I hope you understand. Well, coming back to the topic at hand…I doubt that you are aware of it, but Lord Eddard Stark was accused of treachery against his King and was forced to take the Black…," he trailed off.
Jon froze, unable to wrap his had around Ser Barristan's words. Treason was not something he associated with Lord Stark, but then he recalled what Ser Barristan told them only hours ago.
The boy is no true King…he is a bastard.
"You mentioned that Joffrey is a bastard. Did Lord Stark find out about King Joffrey's true birth?"
"Indeed," Ser Barristan confirmed and nodded his head. "The boy is supposedly the son of Cersei Lannister and her brother Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer. At least that is what your Lord Uncle accused him of when he stormed the Red Keep. Sadly, he was betrayed and taken captive. For weeks the King kept him imprisoned while your cousin Robb Stark was waging a war against the Lannisters. He won several victories, but in the end he bent the knee to save his Lord Father's life. Shortly after, Lord Stark confessed his treason, though he probably did it to protect his daughters. Even I can understand why he lied."
Jon swallowed hard. It was too much to take in, but the worst was this clenching feeling of guilt.
I should have been there to help Robb.
Shame washed over him, but there were still many questions lingering on the tip of his tongue.
"And my sisters?" he asked. It didn't escape him that Ser Barristan called Lord Stark his Uncle and Robb his cousin, but to him they were still his siblings. "Are they still in Lannister hands?"
"Lady Arya returned to Winterfell, but Lady Sansa was still betrothed to King Joffrey when I departed for Braavos."
The news about Arya relieved him, but the fact that Sansa is still promised to wed Joffrey disgusted him. It wasn't even his bastard birth that irked Jon, but the boy's vile character. Sansa used to call him her half-brother, but she deserved better than Joffrey.
"But why would Jon's brother allow that?" Daenerys asked, who had been listening to their exchange in silence. "Surely, he wouldn't want his sister to wed to a boy who accused his Lord Father of treason?"
Lord Wylis huffed and grabbed for his wooden cup. He winced at the taste of the ale. It was probably too weak for his taste, but the Lhazareen preferred mix it with water and honey.
Then he took his time to answer Daenerys' question.
"Lord Robb had no choice, but to accept Tywin Lannister's conditions. I am sure he would have preferred to refuse such a match, but he could hardly object, given that his Lord Father's life was dangling on silver string. I hold no grudge against my Lord, though others are still grumbling about his decision."
"And Lord Stark took the black?" Jon asked as if to confirm the truth. It was a strange irony. Jon was meant to join the Night's Watch, but now Lord Stark was forced to join. It felt as if they traded places.
"He did," Ser Barristan confirmed and emptied his cup. Daenerys was quick to refill it, which caused an odd reaction from Ser Barristan. Jon knew the reason. It must be strange for him to see Queen's Rhaella daughter act like a servant. "But I suppose it is a consolation that Lord Stark didn't lose his head. Much bloodshed was avoided, though there two other contenders that intend to claim the crown from King Joffrey."
"Who are these contenders?" Daenerys asked curiously, her eyes wide with curiosity. Sometimes Jon forgot how little she knew about Westeros.
"Stannis Baratheon and Renly Baratheon both challenged King Joffrey for the crown," Lord Wylis Manderly answered and broke the bread. "There is no doubt that Stannis has the stronger claim, but Renly Baratheon wed Margaery Tyrell and enjoys the support of the Reach and the Stormlands. I am no seer, but there is no doubt for me that Renly will win this struggle."
Daenerys looked disappointed. She probably hoped that these claimants were relatives of hers. Well, the Baratheons are kin to the Targaryens, but they would take our heads if they knew about our existence.
"I think you shouldn't underestimate the might of the Westerlands," Ser Barristan remarked and put his empty bowl aside."The fact that Stannis and Renly are fighting each other instead of the enemy will cost them dearly. Renly is a fool. He should have submitted and accepted his brother's claim. Lord Stannis has only one child, a sickly daughter. With luck Lord Stannis would have been prepared to accept him as his heir, but power has tempted even the strongest of men," he added, his sad blue eyes coming to rest on Jon.
Jon felt as if his words were not only directed at Renly, but also at Jon.
Does he think I am striving for the crown now that I am aware of the truth?
"I am not Renly Baratheon," Jon replied bluntly and met the knight's gaze. "I don't claim what is not mine to claim. I don't care about the Iron Throne. Before I met Daenerys I intended to join the Night's Watch. Besides, I am a bastard. I have no claim to the throne, even though my father was a prince and my mother was a highborn lady of noble stock."
Ser Barristan's expression told him that he disagreed with his assessment.
"Bastard or not," Ser Barristan said after a moment of silence had settled over them, his blue eyes flickering back to Daenerys."But you are wed to the Princess. Your marriage legitimizes you," he added and angled his head to look at Aemon. He sat next to Ghost and threw around his toys. He was babbling, but now as that the knight's gaze fell on him he stopped and grew utterly silent. "And your son…most of Prince Rhaegar's former allies would consider him the rightful heir."
"Aemon is a babe," Jon replied more sharply than intended. He knew what the knight was trying to say and it may even be true, but he recalled all too well what happened to his half-sister Rhaenys and his half-brother Aegon. Both of them were brutally murdered. "I don't see him leading armies anytime soon. And most of my father's supporters are probably long dead. It has been sixteen years."
"I have to disagree," Ser Barristan replied and sounded slightly disappointed. "The Mad King may be cursed, but your Father Prince Rheager was beloved by many. I know what lies they spread about him, but until my dying day I am prepared to swear that he never raped your Lady Mother. To think that others think him capable of such a vile deed disgusts me. Prince Rhaegar had is failures, but cruelty was not one of them."
He thinks I am not aware of the truth, Jon realized. He mistook my sharp words for hatred.
"Don't fret on it, Ser Barristan," he assured him quickly and forced a smile over his lips. "I am aware that my father didn't harm my mother. I know that he loved her dearly."
Surprise washed over Ser Barristan's face and Lord Wylis nearly choked on his ale.
"How do you know?" Ser Barristan asked.
"Jon found my brother's letters. Lord Stark kept them hidden in Lady Lyanna's tomb," Daenerys answered and hopped to her feet. Quickly, she rushed to the wooden box in which they kept their coin and other precious possessions. It took only a brief moment before she found the bound letters returned to his side.
"Here," she said and showed Ser Barristan the letters. "They are written in High Valyrian, but they are from my brother's hand. It is the truth."
"It is true," Jon confirmed. By now he was able to read parts of the letter. His father's name and title was the first thing Daenerys taught him how to read and to write. "And the letters are all addressed to the same person… Aemon Targaryen. He supposedly resides at the Wall…at least that is what I was able to deduce from their correspondence. I also know that he is our Grand-Uncle. I am by no means an expert on Targaryen History, but I know that King Maekar had a son named Aemon Targaryen. He refused the crown in favour of his younger brother King Aegon the Unlikely."
"This is correct," Ser Barristan muttered to himself as he started to unfold one of the letters. Swiftly, his blue eyes wandered over the faded paper. Suddenly, he gasped.
"You can read it, can't you, good Sir?" Daenerys asked and leaned closer.
"I can," he replied, an elated smile curling on his lips. "I watched both your brothers when they were learning their letters. I am certainly not as proficient as your brother Prince Rhaegar, but it is enough to decipher the content. It seems the Prince was holding a secret correspondence with your Grand-Uncle Aemon. No wonder, given how wary the King was of his son."
"Wary?" Jon asked. "Why was the Mad King wary of my father?"
Ser Barristan sighed and folded the letter.
"King Aerys threatened to disinherit him in favour of Prince Viserys. He feared Rhaegar more than he loved him. Not without reason... Some say the Tourney at Harrenhall was part of Prince Rhaegar's plan to depose his father, but his plans were foiled."
"Foiled?" Daenerys asked."By whom?"
Ser Barristan's gaze darkened and Lord Wylis Manderly's frown deepened. He had observed their whole exchange in grim silence.
He is unsure what to make of his.
Jon shared his feelings, but it seemed there are still many things he doesn't know about his father.
"The same man who sent me here," Ser Barristan answered, his voice brimming with subdued anger. "Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers informed the King about Prince Rhaegar's plots. He was the reason the King Aerys was able to remain on the Iron Throne. However, he is also the reason I was able to find you. Forgive me, for making common cause with this man, but it was the only way. He asked me to send word if I am able to find you, but I have no intention to fulfil this errand. I don't trust him nor do I know what his real motives are."
I misjudged him, Jon realized and felt his mistrust ebb away. He seems honest.
"This Lord Varys," Daenerys said and broke the silence. "Do I understand this correctly? First he served my Lord Father and helped to foil my brother's plots and then he changed sides to serve King Robert? And now he wanted you to find us? I agree with you…this man seems fishy."
"He only asked me to find the owner of the dragons…a Princess of House Targaryen," Ser Barristan corrected himself and graced Jon with an apologetic smile. "And I agree with your assessment, Princess. Lord Varys cannot be trusted."
Then Ser Barristan turned to look at him and cleared his throat.
"That brings me back to our earlier topic. You say that no one would support you, but I have to disagree. Princess Daenerys shows a great resemblance to her Lady Mother, you are wed to her, you have healthy son and more importantly…you have three dragons, the very symbol of House Targaryen. For you it may sound trivial, but as I told you before…your Prince Rhaegar was beloved and some of his allies yet linger in this world, waiting for an opportunity to take revenge. Surely, your cousin Lord Robb would support you?"
Ser Barristan looked at him, but Jon felt as if the question was meant for Lord Wylis.
The massive man shrugged his shoulders and put away his wooden cup.
"I don't know my Lord's mind, but he gave me a letter addressed for you Lord Snow," he explained and met Jon's gaze.
Jon felt a gust of warmth washing over him.
"A letter for me?"
"Lord Stark also told me to inform you that you are always welcome in Winterfell," Lord Wylis Manderly replied and pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his vest. Jon picked it from his hand and felt the urge to read it, but then he decided against it. Later. I need a calm head.
Then he lifted his head and graced Lord Manderly with a warm smile.
"I thank you for coming here. I don't know what to say."
Finally, a hint of a smile showed on Lord Wylis' face.
"It was no bother. Besides, Lord Stark also sent me here to buy corn for the coming winder and to take out a loan from the Iron Bank. Thus I will be forced to return to Braavos within the next weeks. I need your answer in good time if you intend to return with me to Winterfell."
"I see," Jon said and nodded his head in understanding. "But I can give you my answer now. You saw the dragons, didn't you, my Lord?"
"I did, Lord Snow."
"Then you already know my answer. I can't go home without Robb's approval. At least for now I have to remain here. I will write a letter to my brother to explain our current situation. Will you return to the Free Cities?"
"I will," Lord Manderly confirmed. "But my next travel is six moons away."
"That is enough time," Jon assured him and patted the letter. "I will read the letter tonight and write an answer tomorrow. Thus you will be able to leave within the next few days."
Lord Wylis sighed in relief and rose to his feet. It took him great effort to heave his body in the air, his face flushed red in a matter of a seconds.
Then he dipped his head and graced Daenerys with a smile.
"I thank you for the hearty meal, my Lady," he thanked her. "But my head is heavy and I am in dire need of sleep."
"Of course," Daenerys said and rose to her feet to open the door. "I will show you the way to the guest chambers. I asked one of the girls to prepare a bed for you. I hope all is to your taste, my Lord."
Then Lord Wylis bowed his head to Jon and Ser Barristan and Daenerys closed the door behind her.
Jon took another glance at the letter and was sorely tempted to read it, but then he noticed Ser Barristan's gaze resting on him.
He is searching my face for a ghost, Jon was sure.
"I don't have much of my father, do I?" Jon asked him with a wry smile and started to collect the bowls.
"You do have the Stark colouring…nobody can deny that," Ser Barristan confirmed what Jon already knew. "But you do have much of Prince Rhaegar's character. He always had a rather melancholic character. You also have his eyes. It is subtle, but it is there. In truth, I am an old man and my memory is fading. I don't have a clear painting of him in my head to compare him to you, but I understand now why Lord Stark wanted to sent you to the Night's Watch. Those who knew Prince Rhaegar, would be able to notice the resemblance. This I can assure you."
Jon couldn't help but to laugh. He knew that Prince Rhaegar was his father, but it felt strange for him to think of him as such.
"What does it matter though?" he asked. "Do you really think they would support us? Do you even know where I found Daenerys?"
Ser Barristan's gaze darkened, guilt evident on his wrinkled face.
"I heard about it, but the past doesn't matter. Nobody will care about that once…," Ser Barristan continued, but Jon couldn't help but to interrupt him.
"Our enemies would call her a whore and they would call me a bastard. Why should I give up this peaceful life for a crown that nearly wiped out my entire family?" he asked and leaned over to pat Aemon's curly head. He was sleeping, his head resting on Ghost's soft fur.
Ser Barristan remained silent.
He simply lifted his cup and drank, before speaking again.
"That is your wish," the elderly knight said at last."But what of the Princess? Have you considered her wishes? And you should also consider the dragons. Do you think you can hide here forever?"
"What you say is true," Jon admitted grudgingly. "But Daenerys' knowledge about her family is lacking. I have yet to tell her the truth about her Lord Father and his involvement with my family. She only knows bits and pieces."
Ser Barristan was stunned.
"And she never asked you?"
Jon swallowed hard and shook his head.
"No," he replied hesitatingly and leaned over to hoist Aemon into his arms. "I think she is afraid. Maybe you can help us both to get a greater understanding of our past. Only then will we be able to make a decision. You intend to stay, don't you, Ser Barristan?"
Hope and warmth washed over Ser Barristan's weary face.
"Of course," he said and lowered his head in reverence. "Nothing would please me more."
…
Cersei
The whore of Highgarden was a pretty girl. Pretty, but plain compared to herself and her daughter Myrcella. Margaery Tyrell was a girl of slender built, graced with a heart-shaped face and golden eyes.
Her youth gives her beauty, Cersei knew. There will be nothing left of it once she birthed one or two babes for my glorious son.
Again the girl's laughter echoed through the spacious solar, the smell of flowers lingering in the air. It was a smell Cersei came to hate over the last weeks. It was a smell she associated with treachery.
She held not much love for the Starks, but Sansa Stark would have certainly made a more pliable Queen than the whore of Highgarden. The girl might feign sweetness and play stupid in front of her glorious son, but Cersei knew a false smile when she saw one.
She is a vile and clever little thing, she knew and watched as she whispered into Joff's ear. Her son smiled a little, his jade eyes fixed on the fool hopping over the table. He even clapped and the whore and her string of cousins giggled happily.
Father is growing blind and old, she knew and fanned herself fresh air. The Tyrells will betray us the moment they find an opportunity to do so.
"It seems you don't enjoy yourself, dear mother," Lady Margaery remarked from her cushioned seat next to Joff. She was garbed in a dream of red silk, obviously meant to emphasis her tiny breasts. Again the smell of flowers filled Cersei's nostrils as the girl leaned closer. Again she felt a hint of sickness washing over her, but she gritted her teeth and kept her composure.
The little whore surely enjoys calling me mother.
"I am exhausted," she replied politely and graced her glorious son with a warm smile. "In absence of my Lord Father it falls to me and my son the King to oversee the council meetings. This is rather tiring task these days."
"And boring," her glorious son added. "But a King has his duties."
"Of course," Margaery Tyrell agreed approvingly and took a sip from her silver cup, embellished with golden roses. Roses, everywhere." And it is very admirable of you to show such dedication to your subjects, my brave lion. Tell me…What important matters did the council discuss today?"
My brave lion, Cersei muttered to herself. I gave him this name and now the vile little whore dares to taint it.
"A match for the Stark girl," her glorious son replied and frowned. "I suggested my Uncle the Imp to show Robb Stark his place, but my Lord Grandfather insists that it has to be a proper match. In the end your Lord Father agreed to wed her to your eldest brother. He is your father's heir, isn't he?"
"He is," Margaery Tyrell replied enthusiastically and stuffed a fresh grape into her rosy mouth."Willas is indeed my father's heir. He will be pleased to have such a pretty wife."
If she was surprised by the news it didn't show on her pretty little face. She knew it all along, Cersei was sure.
Lady Margaery's answer seemed to irritate her son, which pleased Cersei. He is finally seeing through the whore's mask
"Grand Maester Pycelle also mentioned that he is a cripple. Is it true?"
Lady Margaery paled a little, but her smile didn't falter.
"My beloved brother fell victim to an unfortunate accident. In his youth he was a promising knight, but he was hurt in a jousting match, which left his leg twisted. It pains him still, but my brother endures it bravely."
"He is still a cripple," her glorious countered and put the whore in her place. "A cripple shouldn't be heir to a prosperous lordship like the Reach. How did he keep your father from disinheriting him?"
Lady Margaery was now squirming like a fish pulled out of the water. Her face was slightly flushed and she was tugging on the hem of her dress.
Not even your rosy nipples can thwart him from seeing the truth.
"It is true…my brother has a twisted leg, but he has a good head on his shoulders. My Lord Father trusts him to rule the Reach in his absence and my Lady Mother would be quite cross with my Lord Father if he dared to disinherit Willas. He is her firstborn son. I am sure you understand what I am trying to say, your Grace?"
Much to Cersei's dismay, Joff started to smile and seemed to buy her lies.
"I understand what you are trying to say, my Lady. The wailing of woman never fails to lead men astray. I will not be such a weak King or man."
"Of course, your Grace," Lady Margaery agreed and forced a smile over her lips."A weak King cannot rule. Your Lord Father was valiant man…I am sure they will soon compose songs about your great deeds. Speaking of songs…Does his Grace enjoy music? I have several minstrels in my employ…," she continued, but the grimace on Joff's stopped him.
Nobody told the whore of Highgarden that her son is not fond of minstrels. Stupid girl.
"I fear not," Joff replied coldly and brushed her hand away. "I hold no love for minstrels. Especially, the last one was a sore disappointment. I cut out his tongue. Keep your minstrels away from me, my Lady."
Margaery Tyrell didn't move, though she was still smiling. Even her little cousins stopped their irritating giggling.
"Of course," Lady Margaery said at last and swallowed hard. "There is nothing worse than a bad minstrel."
Then she drowned her goblet as in calm manner. Yet the whore continued to smile as if she was a doll instead of a living girl.
This girl is much more dangerous than I thought.
"Then let us speak about more enjoyable things," she declared in an enthusiastic voice and made an attempt to change the topic. "Our wedding, your Grace. I heard there will be a grand tourney. Will you partake?"
"Of course," her glorious son replied proudly. "Of course I will partake."
"No, it was not," Lady Margaery replied sweetly. "I was just just afraid I might be deprived of the honour to see you tilt."
"Well, then put your fears to rest, my Lady," her glorious son replied and patted her hand. "I would never deprive you of such an honour. Everyone will be there to pay witness to the victory of House Baratheon," he added and craned his head to look at Cersei. "Isn't that true, Lady Mother?"
"Of course," she confirmed. "I have already sent out the invitations, but it is questionable whether Robb Stark will agree to attend."
Displeasure was evident on her son's face, but she expected it.
"He would dare to refuse his King?" her glorious son demanded to know. She couldn't be prouder. My son has the bearing of a true King.
"I have yet to receive an answer, but I heard his Lady wife is heavy with child."
"Of course," her son replied through gritted teeth. "But that is no excuse. I want him here."
Cersei graced her glorious son with a proud smile.
"Of course."
…
Davos
A grey sky spread over Dragonstone as Davos watch the men stacking wooden logs. It was a pyre intended for their King.
Not far from the working men he spotted Queen Selyse and the Princess Shireen. The Queen chose to dress in black as did the Princess, but it gave the girl an even sadder expression than usual. He didn't see her cry, but not even her fool was able to conjure smile on her lips these days.
Davos shared the girl's somber mood. He lost three of his sons to the wildfire. Even now he saw the green light blinking before his eyes. Even finding his other son Daveth alive and well didn't help ease his grief.
I failed to protect them, he thought as his gaze fell on Lady Melisandre. She stood not far from the Queen, her red silken dress fluttering around her. Whenever he looked at her he felt hatred stirring in his stomach.
I should have killed her, he knew and yet he was unable to do it.
She promised them victory, but in end they were defeated by the forces of the Reach and the Westerlands. Victory was in their reach, but in the end the gods decided differently.
Have faith, she had told Queen Selyse not long ago. Have Faith and the God of Light will answer.
Faith is not the answer, he had told the Queen in return. We need to leave, to sail for Essos, to protect the Princess from the Lannisters.
Yet Queen Selyse ignored his council and continued to put her trust in Lady Melisandre. Queen Selyse's relatives were not different, though that was no surprise to him.
Most of them thought of him as a commoner, who was elevated beyond his status.
What use is their faith, he wondered not for the first time. Do they think the King will return from the dead?
No, the King is gone. All we have left is the Princess. She is the last trueborn Baratheon, the rightful Queen.
Maybe it was just another lie they were telling themselves, for when he looked at the pale and frightened girl, he saw no Queen. He only saw a lonely little girl.
The King ordered me to continue his work. I cannot forsake him.
"Now it ends," Ser Andrew Estermont remarked sadly and jerked his head at the procession. He was once the King's squire and like Ser Davos he held little love for Lady Melisandre and her prophecies.
"No," Ser Davos answered and shook his head. Tears burned in his eyes he watched the men hoist the King's body on the pyre. Stannis was a grim man and earned himself few friends, but Davos loved him still. "Now it begins. The Princess Shireen is our rightful Queen."
"True," Ser Andrew agreed and nodded his head. "But she is just a little girl and her disfigurement will always mark her. The King should have listened to your advice and legitimized his brother's bastard. Nobody can deny that he is King Robert's son."
"The King didn't want to place a bastard above his trueborn daughter, but in the end he made amendments to his will that took my advice into consideration. He named the boy Princess Shireen's heir. The condition for the boy's legitimization is Princess Shireen's natural death."
Surprise showed on Ser Andrew's solemn face.
"Nobody knows about the King's will but me and a few chosen men…I count you now among them," Ser Davos explained and continued to watch the proceedings. Both Queen Selyse and the Princess Shireen received a burning torch to light the pyre.
Quickly, the flames hopped from log to log, rising higher and higher into the sky. All of this was accompanied by Lady Melisandre's mournful singing.
The singing made him shiver, but the rising flames only helped to remind him of the previous battle.
At least the flames are not green, he thought and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. It was raining, fat droplets of rain falling from the sky.
Maybe the gods are weeping, he mused. The gods we burned.
And yet he couldn't deny the Lady's powers. He saw her birth the shadow creature that slew Renly Baratheon.
Maybe that is why we lost, he thought. Kinslayers are cursed by the gods.
His only consolation was that the King refused to agree to Lady Melisandre's last madness.
She wanted to burn Edric Storm, the last known living son of King Robert.
Kingsblood is power, she had told him, but it seemed in the end even the King lost his faith in Lady Melisandre's god.
It was the first time he saw a hint of doubt washing over Lady Melisandre's face.
Yet she is still here, he thought and listened to the sound of the rain and the rustling of the flames.
It was a strange combination. Fire and rain.
The pyre had collapsed when the first signs of dusk showed on the horizon. A red and yellow sky spread as far as his eye could see. It had finally stopped raining when one of the Queen's ladies brought the crown forged for their new Queen.
It was a slender thing of made of red gold wrought with small points that looked like flames.
The smith had worked day and night to forge this crown, but it gave Ser Davos no comfort to see it placed atop Princess Shireen's head.
Their little Queen didn't dare to speak. She remained silent as a mouse as her father's men gave their oaths of fealty.
She is just a little girl, he knew but the crown resting atop her head marked her as his Queen.
At last Ser Davos and Ser Andrew decided to join the others.
Queen Shireen graced him with a sad smile.
"Am I really the Queen?" she asked him, her gentle voice nearly drowned out by the howling of the wind.
"Of course you are," he confirmed and earned himself a sharp look from Queen Selyse, no Queen Mother Selyse. She never liked him, but even the Queen Mother had to accept the King's last will.
He named me Hand, Davos knew and felt a gust of warmth washing over him.
"Where have you been hiding, Ser Davos?" Queen Mother Sylse asked sharply. "Why did you not join us for the prayers? My husband named you Hand and yet you hide in the shadows.
"I was not hiding, your Grace," he explained and lowered his head."I was observing the proceedings in company of Ser Andrew."
"Ser Davos has no faith in our god," Lady Melisandre added softly. "That is why he has been hiding in the shadows. But don't be afraid, my Queen. The fires finally spoke to me. I saw our Queen seated on the Iron Throne with a King at her side. We will find this King in Essos."
"Essos?" Queen Mother Selyse. "You want us to go to Essos?"
"It is the only way, my Queen," the Lady Melisandre answered and lowered her head, but her eyes were still resting on Ser Davos.
He swallowed hard. He disliked the woman with every fiber of his being, but what she said is true.
He averted his gaze and looked at the young Queen, still clinging to her mother's hand.
"I have to agree with Lady Melisandre. We should leave as soon as possible. Essos is our greatest hope. I suggest we go to Braavos to speak with the Iron Bank. They could grant us gold to hire a sellsword company to reclaim your crown."
The little Queen looked at him fearfully.
"My Lord Father named you my Hand. We will do as you say, Ser Davos."
Touched by her trust, he knelt down and kissed his Queen's hand.
"I don't deserve your trust, but I will do my best."
…