"Do you have everything?" Mother was fretting again.
"Yes, Mother," Devan replied, smiling. "We have checked everything twice."
"He is only going to Dragonstone, not the Wall," Allard piped up.
"And we will be there too, Mother," Dale tried to reassure their mother. "Father as well."
"You will be at Dragonstone, yes, but not at the castle where Devan will be serving Lord Stannis. And when Lord Stannis returns to King's Landing and takes Devan with him, you or your father will not be there." Mother's impatient tone was a shock to Devan. He had seldom heard her speak in that way to Dale and Allard. Or to any of them.
"You are scaring Devan about Lord Stannis, Mother. Or is it King's Landing that is worrying you, Devan? Do not fret, it is not such a bad thing to be at King's Landing. The place does have its charms. I cannot say the same for Lord Stannis, however," Allard said.
"What is the use of charm?" Dale replied. "As long as he treats Devan fairly, and with kindness, that should be more than enough."
Allard scoffed. "Fairly? Perhaps, Lord Stannis does have an obsession with justice after all. Well, his kind of justice at least. But with kindness?" Allard shook his head. "I doubt it. When he dies, his epitaph will not read – Here lies Stannis Baratheon, who was kind to others.
"Lord Stannis was kind to Father," Devan said, and then blushed red. He was not used to interrupting his older brothers. Especially Dale and Allard, the two oldest ones. They were so much older than him, grown men and not boys, and Devan was almost as much in awe of them as he was of his father.
"Yes, he was," Dale replied, smiling kindly and reassuringly at Devan.
"If you could call shortening someone's fingers after he saved you from starvation 'being kind'," Allard muttered. He stared at Devan with a sober and solemn expression. "Best not to have unrealistic illusions and expectations about Lord Stannis, Devan, if you're going to serve him. He is perhaps a bit better than most of these other highborn lords with their scorn and contempt for anyone unlucky enough to be lowborn, but he isnot a kind man. Or a very nice one."
"You remember the fingers, but not the knighthood and the land. Lord Stannis rewarded Father, as well as punishing him," Dale said to Allard. "Do you know why, Devan?" He turned his gaze to Devan.
Devan knew the answer by heart. Father had told them the story many, many times. "Because a good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad the good. That's what Lord Stannis said to Father. Father was a smuggler and he broke the law, so he was punished for that, but he also helped Lord Stannis during the war, so he was rewarded with land and knighthood for that.
Dale smiled and nodded his head. "That's right. Lord Stannis is a just man." He paused, frowning slightly before continuing. "But he can be quite … harsh … at times, in his manner. Allard is right, you must prepare yourself for that, Devan. A squire is perhaps the closest person to a lord, next to his wife."
"Closer than his wife, I'm sure, in Lord Stannis' case," Allard snickered. Mother shot him a warning glance. Allard looked duly chastised. "Oh, don't mind me and my ramblings, Devan. It will be all right, you'll see," he said, his hands patting Devan's shoulders reassuringly.
A look passed between Mother and Dale, something Devan could not read. All of a sudden, Dale was putting his arms around Allard and leading him out of the room. "Come on, let's see what Steff and Stanny are up too."
Mother was sitting on Devan's bed, her hands smoothing over the coverlet over and over again. It was not messy, Devan had seen to that; he was not about to leave behind an untidy room. But perhaps it was not tidy enough, Devan worried. How was he supposed to do his duties as a squire if he could not even make his own bed in a satisfactory way?
He went to sit next to his mother on the bed. She smiled at him, but it was that smile she had on her face. The smile Devan did not like. The smile she had on her face every time Father was leaving again. Or Dale, Allard, Matthos and Maric. The smile that told Devan that she would be weeping, later, when she was alone in her room, when she thought Devan, Steff and Stanny were already asleep.
Devan did not like being the cause of that smile.
"I will make you proud, Mother. You and Father both, I promise. I will be diligent about my duties," Devan said solemnly.
Mother sighed, and turned her face away. When she finally looked at him again, she had on a different smile. Devan did not know this smile.
"I'm always proud of you. Of all my sons," she said, her fingers caressing Devan's cheek. The smile was gone from her face. It was looking grave now as she continued, "Lord Stannis is not an easy man to serve. Diligence alone will not be enough. You must be very, very patient, and learn to have a thick skin. You must learn not to mind too much, if he yells or shouts. Or if he is angry, or speaks to you in a harsh way. He is not …unkind, necessarily. It is only his way. He is not a very patient man, and he does not suffer fools gladly."
Devan, who had never, in his ten years of life so far, been yelled at or shouted at by anyone, was nonetheless not afraid. "If I make a mistake, of course he would scold me. Don't worry Mother, I won't mind being scolded at all. That's how we learn, from our mistakes. You taught us that," Devan said, trying to reassure his mother.
But Mother did not look reassured at all. She looked the way she did when Devan had asked her how babies were made. And just like that time, she opened her mouth a few times as if to say something, only to close it again.
"Father said it is a great honor to squire for Lord Stannis. If I do well, I will be a knight too, someday, like Father," Devan said.
"Yes, of course. But do you understand what I am trying to tell you about Lord Stannis, Devan? It is not only about being scolded when you have made a mistake. He might be harsh in his words at other times too. And most likely he will never praise you if you have done well either. There are all sorts of people in the world, and he is the sort you have not really come across before."
"I don't need praises, Mother," Devan said earnestly. "And I promise not to mind too much, if … if he is harsh with me."
"You're too young for this," Mother was muttering under her breath. Devan had overheard her saying that to Father too. "But it is not our place to say no to Lord Stannis, so you must make the best of the situation," she continued. She held him in a tight embrace. "You will write to me, won't you? And tell me how everything is? How it really is, not merely cheerful words to keep me from worrying."
"You must not lie in your letters, of course, but you don't have to tell her everything either," Allard had told Devan. "Mother has enough to worry about, with a husband and four sons she hardly sees. Five sons now, with you going as well."
"Devan?" Mother was calling his name. "Promise me that you will write?"
Devan was relieved. This was a promise he could make, and keep. He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mother. I promise. I promise I will write to you, as often as I can." A thought struck him suddenly. "Do you think … do you think Steff and Stanny will miss me?" He whispered shyly to his mother.
"You know they will, very much," she replied. "Stanny especially. Steff is too young still to be a fascinating playmate," his mother laughed. "Stanny will be bored playing hide-and-seek pretty soon."
They had been everywhere and pretended to be everyone in the games they played together, Devan and Stanny. Stanny was Aegon Targaryen riding on his brother's back, the dreaded dragon Balerion, to conquer all of Westeros. They had alternated playing the parts of Rhaegar Targaryen and Robert Baratheon during that single combat at the Trident, with imaginary sword and war hammer swinging in the air.
They had even reenacted the scene between Father, Lord Stannis and that cleaver, using an old, thick scroll as the cleaver, when they were certain Mother was not watching. Stanny always played the part of Lord Stannis; Devan could not bear the thought of bringing down a cleaver, even a pretend one, on his father's hand.
The only friend Devan would have in the castle was Bryen Farring, Lord Stannis' other squire. That is, if the older boy would want to be his friend at all.
"It will be quite lonely for you, and very different," Mother said, as if she could tell what was on Devan's mind. "But you will have much to occupy your time and your mind, with all your duties."
Devan nodded.
"And perhaps things will be better when Lord Stannis takes you to King's Landing with him. It is not such a gloomy and fearsome place as Dragonstone." She frowned, and said softly, as if to herself. "That poor child, living on that barren island all her life."
"What child, Mother?" Devan asked, curious.
His mother looked like she regretted mentioning the child. "The lady Shireen, Lord Stannis' daughter," she replied finally. "She must be a year … no, two years younger than you."
Perhaps we could be friends, Devan was about to say, but thankfully he realized how silly he was being before the words actually left his mouth.
Of course we can't be friends, she is the daughter of a lord, I am only a squire.
"You didn't ask if I will miss you. Only Steff and Stanny," his mother was saying, her hand smoothing back Devan's hair.
"I don't need to ask. I already know that you will miss me." He paused. "I will miss you too, Mother. Very much." Devan glanced at the door to make sure it was firmly closed, and kissed his mother on both cheeks.
She smiled, the kind of smile Devan liked, the smile he wished was on her face more often.