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janie_tangerine
cap. 1 qui
“Let me get this straight. He is our king’s hostage and he’s two and twenty?”
Davos shrugs before turning to Marya and answering. “Well, could be that he’s three and twenty. He’s not that sure himself.”
“Davos Seaworth, that’s not what I had asked.”
“Listen, if you’d rather not have him around –”
“That is not what I had asked, either,” Marya interrupts, and – right. He’s not going to be able to ditch this conversation, though he had hoped not to have it as soon as he got home. But then again, of course Marya would have been there, especially considering the news he’s just heard – the last thing he needs is having to deal with another possible invasion, but if what he’s been told about Jon Connington and the supposed Targaryen heir is true, that’s what he’s going to have to do most probably.
“In that case, yes and yes. If you want the short version of it. If you want the long version, I might have suggested that he come with me, but it was what seemed like the best option at the time.”
“I hardly doubt your judgment, Davos, but I don’t think it might have been just something practical on your part. Am I wrong?”
Well, we haven’t been married this long for nothing, Davos thinks. She reads him far too well, and by now he’s almost sure that she only wants him to spill the truth about the entire matter – she doesn’t seem angry or upset, regardless of how the previous hour or so had gone.
It hadn’t gone badly, but Davos is somewhat sure that if the gods exist they must have been laughing at the scene going on in his living room, considering that Marya obviously didn’t know what to do with her guest and said guest kept on apologizing for pretty much even looking at her, never mind that he apologized when Steffon ran into him and he was probably about to apologize for breathing the same air as her.
“Not really,” he admits, figuring that if he can’t tell her, then who else should he tell. “Though it was the most practical option. Also – after we were introduced I kept on feeling bad for him.” He stops, not quite sure of how to finish that sentence, but then –
“And I can bet good money that you couldn’t stop thinking that it could have happened to one of ours, could you?”
Right. She put into words what he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
“Not exactly. Because if it happened, and I had known, I’d have at least tried to get him back. But – for the rest, you’re right. But I already said, you don’t have to –”
“Davos Seaworth, while there were hardly men anyone would ever wish to marry around where we grew up, I didn’t settle for you just because you were the least terrible of the bunch. I was happy to marry you because you’re the kind of man who’ll see someone like that and think that what happened to them is a travesty rather than it was deserved. And considering that until this last month I was sure you had died, I think I won’t be the one arguing about decisions you took as Hand of the King, so stop asking me that question. That said, do you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into?”
Davos could kiss her. And he will, after this conversation is over.
“No,” he admits after a moment of pondering whether lying to her about it would be a wiser course of action. “Or better, I had a clue, but when I told Stannis I would take him here, I didn’t realize how exactly bad the situation was.”
“As long as you know that,” Marya says. “So, tell me.”
“… What do you want to know?”
“Everything. From how exactly you managed not to get yourself executed to what I have to expect and what you think we should do about this before you undoubtedly have to leave again to deal with whoever is that dragon threatening to invade the Stormlands.”
Davos breathes in and does.
He doesn’t know how long it takes him, but by the time he’s done his throat is dry and he’s refilled his wine glass twice, and Marya looks more or less revolted. She hadn’t been before he arrived at the part of the story concerning Theon, but she’s looked progressively more upset since Davos got there.
When he finally gets to the end and takes another, long drink from his glass, she doesn’t answer for a while, obviously taking the entire thing in.
She does while he drinks the last of the bottle that had been on the table.
“I see,” she says, slowly, but obviously having taken the story in. More or less. “Gods, that’s just sickening. Every which way you go at it.”
Davos entirely agrees with that sentiment. It’s exactly the way he feels about that, but it’s not going to be much help, is it?
He thinks he needs more wine.
“Well, that’s it. I guess it’s probably better that he doesn’t sleep near the children for everyone’s peace of mind, but other than that – I don’t know, it would probably be a good thing if he ate regularly in the first place.”
“That’s the least we should worry about,” Marya says. “I can make sure of that while you’re away dealing with dragons.”
“Maybe I don’t have to leave,” he reasons.
“How exactly?”
“Stannis won’t like it, but with this situation it’s probably better that I invite Aegon Targaryen over here and try to reason with him. Having him and his army as allies would be a greater benefit than trying to wipe them off the map just because there’s one more king around. With what I saw North – anyone with some sense would agree that it’s better to band together against a common enemy and worry about who rules the reign later, since there might not be one if they waste time arguing. From what I know about Jon Connington, he wasn’t unreasonable. I’ll just have someone write a raven to them.”
“And why don’t you?”
“Gods, no, if I want them to take me seriously the last thing they need to see is my penmanship.”
Marya laughs and steals his bottle of wine, taking some for herself, and Davos can’t help thinking that whatever happens now, at least he’s back home.
--
The next day, he allows himself the luxury of not getting out of bed until lunchtime – he has earned some respite, he thinks. Then he goes to find the maester, instructs him on what to send to Griffin’s Roost and hopes for the best – he really, really doesn’t need another war on his plate especially this close to home. He’ll deal with Stannis’s reaction to it later and hope for the best – that’s done nicely for him until now, hasn’t it?
At lunch, it’s just him, Marya and the children. He doesn’t touch the Theon Greyjoy topic until the children are off with the maester for their afternoon lessons.
“So,” he asks Marya, “any news about our guest?”
“He showed up this morning for breakfast, ate something – more like the minimum he could get away with, apologized for a lot of things he had no business apologizing for, and then he went back up to his room. And he hasn’t been seen since.”
Davos wants to take his head between his hands, but then resolves not to.
“Very well. We might need to house a few more guests shortly.”
“Really. Who?”
“Every Baratheon bannerman who’s still here and Jon Connington with the other Targaryen, if he’s one. If Connington agrees, but I should hope he will. Do you reckon you could tell the children they’re excused from their lessons for today? I need the maester here. If I start writing the ravens we won’t be done before a month. And just – have someone tell Greyjoy I want to talk to him after I’m done.”
“For once I’m going to do your bidding, but don’t get too adjusted to it.”
He kisses her not so quickly before she leaves and waits for the maester.
Hours later, the maester is gone, he has sent too many ravens for his tastes and his head is pounding, and that’s when Theon walks inside the room looking like he could topple over at any second.
“You can sit,” Davos says.
Theon does, not saying a word.
“Right. How are you?”
“I’m – well. Thank you.”
I could bet money you aren’t, Davos doesn’t say.
“I’m pleased to hear it. Also, do you know that you can walk around the place?”
“… Wait, what?”
“I mean that you don’t have to stay holed up in your room except for meals. Never mind that even if you wanted to escape, it would be fairly hard, but that’s not even the point. You can have a look around or go outside or go to the library or – whatever you’d like to do. I’m not your jailer.”
Theon swallows, resolutely not looking up at him. He also doesn’t say anything in return.
“Is there something you’d want to say?” Davos asks, trying to keep his voice as not threatening as possible.
“I just – I don’t think I can be around people I don’t know,” he finally blurts out.
“I can tell the children to leave you alone and what maids are here won’t care.”
“You don’t have to go out of your way to –”
“Not make your life miserable? It’s fine. It’s not even going out of my way. This might not be an ideal situation but it hardly has to be worse than it can be.”
“Thank you,” Theon says, his voice sounding completely choked, and Davos chooses to ignore it.
If only he had a clue of what he’s trying to do here, but he has none.
--
For the next five days, he doesn’t see much of Theon at all – sometimes he sees him taking a walk in the yard or around the castle, but for the most time he’s still holed up inside his room. He just tells Stannis and Steffon to avoid bothering the man if they can and for the love of all the gods to not ask him personal questions – they sense that it’s a delicate situation and neither of them does.
Then, other matters distract him. Mostly that Jon Connington answers his raven at once and thankfully, thankfully he’s willing to talk things out rather than attacking them straight away – good. If he can swing this the way he hopes, maybe there’s half a chance that he can salvage things and avoid another war in the Stormlands. All the bannermen he had contacted are accounted for and agree to come to his humble abode in order to discuss the situation – even better. But that means he has to get the entire place ready or at least supervise it.
When he realizes that he actually has no clue of how you run this kind of council, he almost wants to laugh. A Hand of the King who can’t start planning a war council. Or better, not so much the war council, but everything else. How much food should he get, which kind of food should he get, where he’s going to house eventual soldiers without offending their lords and so on – he has no idea. And Marya doesn’t either – she can run a fairly small household, and she’s had time to learn how to manage their lands, never mind that she always helps out the servants in the first place, but she hasn’t been taught what ladies are taught in this sense.
He’s wondering how he’s going to get out of this mess with a walk in the garden when he sees Theon sitting on a small bench and looking down distastefully at his hands.
And that’s when he realizes that someone in this house is, in fact, a highborn coming from a family of highborns.
He maybe smiles to himself – he has a clue that maybe if the man has a chance to feel useful it might go a long way in making this entire situation less miserable.
He goes to sit next to him.
“Say,” he starts without preambles, “I was wondering a couple of things.”
“About what?”
“It’s – well, I might need your help.”
Theon looks at him with such a dumbfounded look it might even have been funny, in the right circumstances.
“You would need my help?”
“Don’t sound that surprised. Thing is – I have a war council to run in a few days. That includes trying to get Jon Connington and his supposed Targaryen heir to not turn their considerable forces on us and help out North instead. Or help out here. And keeping calm all of the other Baratheon bannermen.”
“… I wish you the best of luck,” Theon says, sounding like he doesn’t envy him at all.
“Yes, but there’s a problem. I can run a war council. I have no bloody clue of all the niceties.”
“Niceties.”
“Where do you keep the soldiers versus where you keep their commanders, what would lords assume they should eat, how much of it and that kind of thing. Now, thing is, everyone in this castle except my sons was born a commoner. And it doesn’t mean that their parents didn’t use to be commoners, so they’d have no clue, same as us. And no one has an inkling of how you run that side of things. Now, my question is, since you’re not a commoner – do you?”
Theon looks at him, swallows, looks down at his hands, then up at him again. “Well, sort of. I mean, no one ever came to me and told me how it works in detail, but – I’ve attended endless war councils, and – Robb was taught that, and – well. And I’ve been around Winterfell for years. I have an idea, yes.”
“Good,” Davos breathes out in relief. “Then if you would consider going to my wife and laying it down to her she would be utterly grateful. And if you would consider being around to supervise it she wouldn’t mind either.”
“I – I mean, you shouldn’t be – no need to thank me, if even – I shouldn’t supervise anything, I mean, I’m not –” It’s obvious that he’s completely struggling for words here, but Davos isn’t having it.
“Lad. No one here knows or cares where you’ve been or what you’ve done. They’ll be the judges of it. So, can you do it?”
“… I’ll try,” Theon finally says after a moment.
Davos doesn’t smile to himself until he’s sure Theon can’t see him, and then he heads straight for the kitchen where he had seen both his wife and a couple maids losing their heads over what food they should buy.
“Marya?” He says as he comes in. “I just realized that there is someone highborn in this castle.”
Theon looks about to flee the moment ten pairs of eyes turn towards him, but then Marya looks utterly relieved. “Lad, if you can get me out of this mess I might be grateful for a long time,” she says, and Theon looks about to faint at that.
Instead he just clears his throat and starts speaking in a tiny voice.
“All – all right. I guess – first, does anyone have a quill and some paper? I – I think I might need it.”
“Let’s all go to the solar,” Davos says instead. When they’re there, he hands both over to Theon, who blinks a couple of times, grabs the quill, and then clears his throat again.
“All right. You said Jon Connington and the Targaryen heir. How many other nobles would you have?”
Davos thinks. “About twenty? They would come with some soldiers, I suppose.”
“Would they bring their families with?”
“Well, most of them wouldn’t come alone, but I doubt they would bring wives or daughters or small children. I think – you can count some forty in total, if that’s what you meant.”
“How important are they? I mean, is there someone who should be impressed other than Jon Connington?”
Davos thinks about it. “No one is that powerful a lord,” he finally says. “In theory, I would be the highest ranking one.”
“I swear, if twenty years ago someone had told me you would be the highest ranking lord in a war council...” Marya says under her breath, and Davos agrees with her entirely for that matter.
“Very well.” Theon takes a deep breath, then starts writing numbers down the sheet while he speaks – his penmanship is shaky, but it’s obvious that he’s doing that to help himself and that no one else needs to understand it. “About the soldiers – they can stay outside. You don’t need to house all of them or find them a placement – in these cases it’s usually assumed that they will all set camp outside of the castle. You – you might want to make sure that they have refreshments if they ask for them, but that’s it. No one will take offense if you can’t house them in proper beds. Other than that – can you house all of your nobles separately? Because you have to offer Connington and his king separate rooms, but if your noblemen are the petty kind of, they might take offense at being forced to share with their sons, or whoever it is that they come with.”
“… If our people share we can do that,” Marya says after a moment.
“Then it would be preferable. As far as the food goes – you should provide three meals each day. And I am afraid that if you want your main guests to appreciate their treatment, it should be good food. You should get what’s the best you can afford.”
Except that Davos has no clue in that department either.
“Marya, what is the best we can afford?”
“Do you think I ever asked myself that question? I don’t ask for fancy things when it comes to that, I just ask for decent quality.”
Theon clears his throat. “If, uh, if whoever is in charge of food can read I could just – write down whatever passed for fancy back in Winterfell? Along with how much you would need?”
“Please do,” Marya says, sounding way relieved that it’s out of her hands.
“All right – I – I will in a moment. Then – well, obviously the rules are your castle’s, so you are free to ask them to come in without weapons and so on. That shouldn’t be an issue. Most of the highborns might expect to be served at any moment so tell your servants to be ready for it. Uh – should I also write down how should the dinner be served?”
“Do go ahead,” Davos says. Even if the maids probably know that, it can’t hurt.
“Fine. No one is going to expect entertainment so you can let that be.”
Then he launches into a long tirade about the quality of the cutlery and the glasses and the tablecloths and so on, and Davos completely loses him there – he had barely paid attention to this kind of thing when going to court himself, and now he wishes he had if only to pay his respects to whoever was in charge of organizing the entire mummer’s farce.
“And – the last thing I suppose – don’t hold back on the wine. You should have some fine quality vintage to save for the dinners, but for the rest just be sure there’s plenty to go on around especially for the soldiers. As far as they’re concerned, as long as you provide them with food and drink no one is going to ask for Dornish red. And – yes, that would be it. I mean. As far as I can tell you.”
Davos looks straight at his wife – she looks completely dumbfounded, same as him, probably. The other maids who came with them look fairly not pleased with the prospect.
Then one of them asks the question no one had dared to ask.
“M’lord, m’lady, that’s all good and proper but usually when we deal with buying food it’s – not for as many people as you said. How would we ever know that we aren’t being robbed?”
“Other than assuming that if they tried to rob someone working for the Hand of the King they would be quite stupid? You don’t,” Davos agrees. “Unless he agrees to just – be around to check on it.”
“What?”
Theon’s face goes ashen at that.
“I mean, just be around when we deal with transactions and if something’s wrong you speak up. Just that,” Davos says quickly – he’s not going to put the poor kid in charge of everything, considering how overwhelmed he looks.
“Oh. I guess – I could do that,” Theon agrees. “But – I mean, are you sure –”
“Lad, even if I wasn’t, you’re the only person around here who has a clue about this. Yes, we’re sure.”
“Fine – fine then.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” the maid who’s usually in charge of getting the food says, and Theon looks so surprised at that reaction that Davos would laugh.
As in, he settles for chuckling slightly.
Maybe there’s half a chance this might end up well for everyone involved.
--
He doesn’t know about that entirely on the day Stannis’s bannermen start to come in – they aren’t expecting Connington and his king for another – but when dinner’s over he has the confirm that Theon pretty much saved their hide for now. Considering all the compliments Marya is getting for choosing such nice dishes and running the household so smoothly in this instance at such at short notice, it’s not even a doubt. Marya accepts the compliments looking as if she wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but thankfully no one notices it – when everyone has finally turned in and they’re left alone in the main hall as the maids clean the room, she does, finally, start laughing fully.
“Did that really work?”
“We should hope Jon Connington is equally charmed.”
“Gods, they didn’t expect it, did they.”
“I don’t think most of them did.”
“I felt bad, though. Taking the merit.”
“I doubt he is going to do it though,” Davos sighs. “Well, I guess someone should go tell him at least. Is he upstairs?”
“Yes. Even if Jeyne has sworn to herself that she’ll convince him to at least dine with them in the kitchen one of these days.”
“She’s that grateful for having saved her from dealing with bartering about the food?”
“That, too. Oh, by the way, when we decided how to share to leave as many free rooms for our guests as possible, we reckoned it was a better idea if he didn’t have to.”
“All right. I’m not going to argue with that.” Surely he isn’t, never mind that Davos already has enough experience in that matter to know it would be a very bad idea for the man to share with someone who doesn’t know what happened to him.
“And, he looked – well, on one side it was obvious he didn’t want to refuse, on the other he kept apologizing and in the end I told him that it was because he helped out and that more or less settled it. He also insisted that we should give him some – less nice room for the time being but I said no and it died there. Still, you might want to know that.”
“Right. Thank you, I’ll see you and the children shortly. And let’s just hope tomorrow goes as it should.”
He goes straight upstairs, thankful that everyone seems to have turned in, and heads straight for Theon’s room – he’s really glad Marya didn’t relent on leaving him be in his fairly comfortable chamber. He knocks and walks in as soon as he gets permission. Theon’s sitting on the bed but he springs to his feet immediately when he sees it’s him.
“You can sit,” Davos says. “It’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that every single person in the household is thanking the gods you were around to handle the niceties.”
“… Uh, my – my thanks, but I’m sure they must be exaggerating. I mean –”
“I can assure you that they’re not. And I just figured it was fair that you should know. Also, everyone in the serving staff would be delighted if you chose to dine with them.”
“They want me to dine with them.”
“Indeed they would. And that was all. Have a good night.”
“Same – same to you. My lord.”
Davos doesn’t try to correct him and leaves – he needs to rest, if tomorrow he wants to have all of his wits about him.
--
The next morning, he hopes dearly that he hasn’t bitten off more than he could chew as he sees the considerable amount of soldiers with Targaryen banners marching towards his keep.
For a moment he feels completely inadequate to the task, but – seven hells, he survived Blackwater, he survived White Harbor, he survived a trip to Skaagos that still gives him the odd nightmare, he survived disobeying Stannis’s orders, he will survive Jon Connington and a sixteen year-old dragon. At least he hopes so.
He goes down in the yard and waits at the front door with Marya and the children – everyone is dressed at their best, and he can only hope that Connington’s years in exile might have made him… reasonable. Back in the day, people said Aerys chose him for Hand because he was young and decisive, which sounds like he could be ruthless if needed. Not that they ever knew each other before then, so maybe it was all wrong information. Regardless, he just hopes that he wants to parley and not to demand.
When they finally dismount from their horses and reach him, Davos can’t help feeling overwhelmed for a moment – he’s not a diplomat, gods he used to be a smuggler, this is not his job – but then he clears his throat and takes a step forward. Connington is wearing gloves and a red and white tunic, of course, and there are specks of grey in his beard, but not in his hair, while his ward is dressed in red and black, silver hair neatly tied back, violet eyes staring into Davos’s.
“Your Grace,” he addresses the young king – Stannis wouldn’t have appreciated, but there’s no point in not upholding basic niceties. “My lord. I hope you had a pleasant journey and that we might have equally pleasant treating.”
“It was indeed pleasant,” Aegon Targaryen agrees. “Thank you.”
“As far as what we should discuss is concerned,” Connington says, “I should hope that it is as well. I imagine you might want to get it over with as soon as possible?”
Well. The man is direct, and Davos is mighty thankful for it.
“You imagine well, but it would be my honor if we could dine first. You must have had a long journey, and I wouldn’t want us to parlay before breaking our bread.”
“Well then, you may lead the way. I suppose our soldiers –”
“They can set up camp wherever they wish. There’s food for them and all the others stationed outside, it shall be sent over shortly.”
They both look satisfied with the answer and they follow him inside after Davos introduces them to what’s left of his family, and as they head for the main hall he keeps on hoping nothing terrible happens.
Gods, the moment he’s done with this mummer’s farce he’s getting Theon to give him damned pointers in all of this nonsense.
--
As he shows the two of them to the solar a few hours later, Davos decides that maybe he can allow himself to put some more hopes in the outcome being eventually positive. Lunch was indeed a success – both of his honorable guests seemed positively captivated with the dish choices, there had been no outright disagreement between their supporters and Stannis’s, and the conversation was overall devoid of disagreements in the first place. Good. Now he just has to find some way to strike an alliance that won’t make Stannis regret that he chose him for the job.
In the solar, he shows them the two most comfortable seats he had in the house, brought here especially for the occasion, and doesn’t sit behind the only desk in the room – as if he uses it for much anyway.
“Your Grace, my lord. I hope you found your accommodations adequate until now.”
“Very much so,” Connington agrees. “And I suppose that this is the part where you tell us the reasons of your summoning.”
“It is. Very well. I imagine you might have wondered why I asked for you to hear my proposal when I obviously serve another king.”
“That did indeed cross my mind,” Aegon Targaryen says. He merely sounds curious, though. And those violet eyes – gods. They really did save one of Rhaegar’s heirs, didn’t they.
“Well, see, the fact is that I think that at this point an alliance would be far more beneficial to both our causes than a war. I know that it would mean having two kings coexisting, and I realize that it’s asking a lot, but – very well. The first thing is – we both have a common enemy. As in, we don’t want any Lannister on the Iron Throne. And – there’s a reason why my king is up North right now. I imagine you haven’t heard about – the Long Night?”
“I did read about that in a few books,” Aegon says, sounding amused, but then –
“Actually – do go on,” Connington interrupts. He looks three shades paler.
“The Night’s Watch sent a plea for help to the entire realm and we are the only ones who answered. They said the Others were coming back. And – I’ve been there long enough and spoke to enough of the men. It’s true. It might be sooner rather than later. And that’s why Stannis is up there.”
“Gods, he was right, then,” Connington whispers under his breath.
“Who was right?” his king asks him before Davos can.
“Your father,” Connington sighs. “Lord Seaworth, I cannot possibly go into this matter now – it’s a long and old story – but let’s say that I have all reasons to believe you about the Long Night. Do go on.”
“Thing is – we fight our wars here, but they’re going to amount to nothing if it’s to rule over a realm populated by the dead. And another war in the Stormlands would be too much toll on the people here. Also – you see, Stannis wants a crown because it’s his right, technically, but not because he wants it. It’s a question of duty, not of being power hungry. And – he sided with his brother during the rebellion because he was his brother, and because – if I may – I mean –”
“My lord, I’ve been the Mad King’s Hand for a short time, but I remember him. You aren’t offending anyone in this room if you say that he’d have rather picked his blood over a madman.”
Thank the gods he’s reasonable.
“Well, then – considering that His Grace here has a probably much better claim, I don’t see why the situation should not be talked out when things are settled. He might step down if he is convinced, and meanwhile we could only benefit by joining forces.”
“Join forces how?” Aegon asks.
“We strike an alliance. We merge our armies. The soldiers here would keep the lands safe and there would be no need to fight between each other. It would make the people happier and King’s Landing weaker to know that they have enemies that aren’t taking each other out in the Stormlands. Of course, more men going up North would probably be a blessing to the Watch if you chose to send them, but even if you didn’t, it would mean that no one stationed North would have to come back here should the need arise. If we’re not fighting in between us, that won’t be the case. And the Lannisters would have everything to fear knowing that Stannis is reuniting the North and that the situation is stable here. That would make taking Storm’s End back fairly easier and weaken the Tyrells greatly. Not counting that they are most probably more worried about what might be happening to their queen in King’s Landing. And seeing that we are a united front… would maybe make some Tyrell allies consider switching their allegiances. In short, we have everything to gain and nothing to lose by not fighting each other.”
Well, he said his piece. He stops speaking and looks at his interlocutors. And – why, the young king seems if not convinced at least impressed with the plan, and Connington is looking at him with a certain kind of respect, which is entirely more than he’d have assumed he would get.
No one says anything for a bit, but then Connington clears his throat. “That’s a tempting proposal,” he says. “Would you mind letting us discuss it in private?”
“Of course not. I will be outside.”
When he’s, in fact, outside, he lets out a breath so deep it almost surprises him. Well, that went fairly well – now if only they accept it, and if Stannis doesn’t have his head for not having waited for a response to his raven before going through with it, he’ll consider himself a satisfied man. But time was too important for him to wait.
It also feels like hours before Connington opens the door to the solar. Davos walks back in.
“I was wondering,” Connington asks, “was this your idea or your king’s?”
Davos figures there’s no point in lying.
“I wrote him a raven saying that it would be uttermost beneficial, but I might not have waited for his reply to hold this council. I wanted to be sure to contact you as soon as I could. So – it was my idea indeed. Why?”
Connington smirks. “Well, my lord, it’s not every day you find someone reasonable to treat with.”
Davos really wants to hope they will accept.
“Does that mean you find the terms acceptable?”
“It means,” Aegon cuts in, “that your terms are perfectly fair and that you have a point about a throne being useless if the realm might be made of ice only. Also, not only relying on mercenaries to take Storm’s End would be a better option. Never mind that should the need arise to go North, I guess having an alliance here would make things fairly more easy instead of having to worry about turncloaks. If your king doesn’t have your head for having gone through with this without authorization.”
Davos laughs. “If only this was the worst thing I did without his authorization. So I gather that we shall feast tonight?”
“I think we shall,” Aegon says, and holds out his hand.
Davos shakes it – Connington doesn’t offer his, but he figures there is no need.
Yes, he thinks.
It’s also fortunate that the maester tells him Stannis answered his raven just as they step outside. The raven says that the situation is fairly bad and that news from the Wall aren’t encouraging, mostly because there are none, so Davos should strike whichever alliances he thinks should be struck.
Well, at least no one can say he hasn’t been efficient.
--
That evening, the feast goes on for a fair long time. Davos can’t help thinking of how many starving families they could feed with all the food they’re eating in his main hall, but if it means avoiding further bloodshed and help against the Others, it’s an acceptable sacrifice.
Still, at some point he slips outside of the room and into the yard – he needs some fresh air.
He doesn’t know if he’s surprised or not to find Theon standing in one of the corners – he hadn’t been surprised to not see him around the castle at all, but well, good thing he’s not holed up in his room.
“Why, good evening,” Davos tells him, and obviously startles him from whichever thoughts he was lost in.
“Uh. My lord. Good –”
“No need for my lords. By the way, while some people remarked on how the food was very much in northern fashion, most keep on complimenting my lady wife on her excellent meal choices when they talk to her. She’s always about to laugh in their faces, but she has managed not to for now.”
Theon looks so – completely out of his element that Davos takes pity on him. “She doesn’t mind, don’t worry. Anyway, it all went as good as it could have gone and your contribution was pretty much invaluable, so thank you for that.”
“It – it really was not –”
“Just humor me, but would it kill you to take a compliment?”
He realizes he should not have said it when he sees the man grimacing – ah, damn, who knows if at some point it actually might have happened?
“I’m sorry.”
“What – no, don’t apologize, you shouldn’t –”
“It was written on your face that at some point it might have as well killed you.”
Theon doesn’t deny it.
“Well – you’re welcome. I suppose,” he finally says after a long pause.
“Good. I have to go back inside, but in case, I think that Jeyne’s proposal is still valid.”
“They can’t want me to eat with them.”
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
Theon shrugs, and then – for a moment Davos he’s sure the entirely cynical expression on his face might be matched by an equally cynical smirk, but it doesn’t quite happen. “My lord, back at the Dreadfort – before the wedding, Roose Bolton decided he needed me away from his son for a while. The nicest thing anyone serving in the kitchen ever did for me was throwing me scraps, and they didn’t even want me near the damned kitchen. Might have been out of fear or not, but for some – it really wasn’t. I realize they might think it could be a nice gesture, but – they don’t need to do it.”
Davos chooses not to even dwell on what he’s just heard. Except for the last part.
“Except that no one serving in my kitchen could care less about why you’re technically my prisoner. If they want you there it’s because they do, don’t you worry. Anyway, you don’t have to do anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew you could. Have a good evening.”
He goes back to the keep and leaves Theon to think about it.
But he doesn’t eat anything else for the rest of the feast – the bare idea of the nicest thing they ever did for me was throwing me scraps made him lose all appetite.
--
“So,” Marya tells him the next morning, “turns out, your guest has in fact gone to eat with Jeyne and the others.”
Davos, who thinks he needs to sleep for the next ten months considering that tonight be barely got a wink of it and the mere idea of things going wrong at this point with all these many people stationed in his castle is about to make him lose his mind, decides that it’s the only good news he’s heard lately.
“Has he,” Davos smiles. “And how did that go?”
“Apparently he barely talked but he didn’t leave before they were finished and they’re all on some kind of mission to make sure he eats more next time, so I suppose things could be plenty worse.”
“Right,” Davos breathes out, feeling somewhat relieved, “let’s make sure he grasps that he can go to the kitchen whenever, especially if he does eat with them but not with us. Anything else?”
“Oh, we’ll have to spend six months making the outside of the castle presentable again, considering that there’s an army right there, but no one died and no one is horribly offended by our hospitality. I’d say it’s quite all right.”
Fair, Davos decides, it could have been plenty worse. He kisses her, stuffs some food down his throat before he faints out of his stomach feeling empty and lack of sleep, and he goes to meet both Aegon and Jon Connington in his solar, again.
“My king,” he says, noticing that both of them look better rested than him, “has answered my raven.”
“And what was the answer?” Aegon asks.
“That I should strike whatever alliance I can get because times are dire, and I suppose that at this point both of us know each other well enough that I could foresee that he would say yes and this entire parley wouldn’t have turned out being a horrible idea, therefore he will trust me on this. Did you… discuss it?”
“We did,” Aegon says. “But we would rather hear your proposal first.”
Davos, who had assumed they would propose first, decides to stick with what he had assumed in the beginning.
“You want King’s Landing,” Davos says. “Stannis certainly wants Dragonstone back. Cersei Lannister wants us to kill each other so she can presumably try to kill off whoever survives. Also, some of her forces are on Dragonstone including at least one of her Kingsguard, who last we heard had suffered grievous wounds. My proposal would be that both of us send some soldiers up North because the situation really is dire and they need all the help they can get, then we join the rest of our forces. First they should take Dragonstone, and if she realizes that we might be trouble, the better for her. At that point no one would oppose it if you wanted to use Dragonstone as a base to plan any further attacks on King’s Landing, and at that point we would help you take it. Of course,” he says, “then you will have to discuss things with Lord Stannis, but he never – wanted the throne for himself. I think he would be content with having Storm’s End and maybe Dragonstone as a keepsake, but I certainly cannot promise you that he’ll bend the knee when he’s not here to agree to it. Still, I think it’s more important to take Cersei Lannister out of the way first, then worry about the White Walkers, then about kingship. And we should fight as one until then.”
Both Aegon and Connington nod, so similar that for a moment it almost makes Davos smile – if Aegon is not his real son, he certainly is in every single other way.
“It was pretty much what we would have proposed,” Aegon says. “I don’t like not being sure of what your king will do, but I also suppose that it would be foolish to presume otherwise. We are also waiting on news from Dorne – they cannot be happy with the situation of things and they have a place on the Small Council. I would rather hear from them before attacking King’s Landing… but that would work best with the timing concerning Dragonstone. I think we should plan for that while waiting, and if meanwhile Cersei Lannister understands that we’re a threat… well. It’s not like it will change things either way.”
“From what we hear,” Connington snorts, “her brother has gone missing in the Riverlands, her army is way worse off than she assumes she is, and the Freys certainly cannot be… popular with the smallfolk.”
Davos snorts. “Please,” he says, “I can assure you that there is no single Northerner who doesn’t want them dead, all of them. They remember the Red Wedding. I saved my own hide in White Harbor because I defended Robb Stark’s cause in front of one of them. The northerners only want them dead and the riverlanders would rather have Edmure Tully in Riverrun as their lord and not as a hostage, never mind that they remember who gave them shelter during the war, and it certainly wasn’t Walder Frey. Her grip on the Riverlands is entirely less strong than she thinks it is, indeed. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Excellent news,” Connington says. “I think that at this point it’s a done deal, isn’t it?”
“For now,” Davos breathes in relief, “it is. Shall we sign on it with the rest of our bannermen later?”
“Tomorrow would be ideal,” Aegon agrees. “So everyone can be warned. Would that be agreeable?”
“Of course,” Davos nods, and after they’re gone, he feels his knees give out.
Gods. He can’t believe it went this well.
He stands up the moment he can, and then immediately heads for the kitchens. First he finds himself some leftover wine and drinks a good full cup, then he asks Jeyne if Theon is in the premises and she says he came down for breakfast but said he’d go back upstairs now – of course. He doesn’t like to roam the castle with all these many people around the place.
He thanks her, goes upstairs and knocks on the door. “Can I come in?” He asks.
“Yes,” comes a moment later.
He opens the door, not coming in, and noticing that the room is completely devoid of any trace that someone sleeps there if not counting that the bed is unmade and there are a few clothes on a chair. Gods, he needs to talk to Marya about it, because while the situation is what it is… that is just sad.
“Well,” he shrugs, “I actually don’t need to.” He had wanted to, but Theon looks like he slept as badly as Davos has lately and he doesn’t want to press when he could be resting. That said, he’s definitely having some more clothing sent up for him because his tunic is fraying by now. “But, I just wanted to tell you that this entire farce got its results. I mean, the ones I wanted. We have the alliance, we’re not killing each yet – I mean, not in between our two specific factions –, we got the North some soldiers, and I couldn’t have even begun to plan it if you hadn’t been that helpful, so I just wanted to thank you properly.”
“There’s –” Theon shakes his head. “No need. Really. I didn’t –”
“Lad, do you really want to do something for me?”
Theon nods, his mouth closing at once.
“Take a fucking compliment. Really. That’s it.”
“I – all right,” he says. “You… are welcome, I guess,” he finally manages, and it sound like it’s physically hurting him to say it. Still. He did. “But there was no need.”
“Well, certainly my kitchen staff won’t kick you out if you have lunch with them again. And stop saying it was nothing. Some of us actually needed that input. That all right?”
Theon just stares at him with those sad dark eyes, and then moves a strand of white hair from his face, and Davos really needs to talk to the maester to see if there’s anything to be done about that.
“I – suppose so. But really, I was… glad to help out. If I could. I mean, it’s not – never mind. I’m glad it worked out.”
Davos, who has absolutely understood what he didn’t say, as in, that it’s not like his help is valued anywhere so he was glad he could do it for once, and a lot of other implications that he honestly wishes hadn’t even crossed his mind, decides that it’s enough for the day.
“Then it was everything I wanted to say. I guess I’ll see you around after this entire farce dies down.”
“Probably,” Theon agrees. “Uh, good luck. With the farce, I mean.”
“Thank you,” Davos sighs, “I will need it.”
He closes the door, and doesn’t hear any further noise coming from the inside.
He shakes his head – he can’t worry about this now, but the moment he doesn’t have an army in his yard and Rhaegar Targaryen’s presumed son hosted in his best guest room, he is getting to the bottom of this situation when it comes to Theon Greyjoy. He has no idea of how he’s supposed to, but – gods, it’s maddening to see how he doesn’t even grasp that no one around here is intentioned to be another Roose Bolton, never mind Ramsay. Also – the lad is here after everything that happened to him, and Davos doesn’t know many men that would have survived it, and —
Oh, screw it. He knocks on the door, then opens it again.
“Can I just tell you one last thing?” He asks. Theon looks back up at him, obviously not having expected it.
“You can do whatever you want,” Theon replies. “It’s your castle.”
As if that was the point.
“Even with that, it’s – honestly, do you want to know something? You need to stop doing that to yourself. I mean, assuming your input is worthless. I mean, I did talk to your – to Jeyne Poole.”
He can see color draining from Theon’s face. “What about her?” He finally breathes out.
“She told me how you two fled Winterfell and a lot of… well. Interesting information. And I just cannot believe that you do not see it, but come on now. You knew… you were lost, I suppose, back in Winterfell, and then you carried on anyway and here you are, and you’re still not dead and you’re being actually useful, so if I were you I would consider giving myself maybe a bit more credit. And now I have to finalize an alliance, but if you survived what you did, I think you can survive pretty much anything. Think about it.”
Theon nods again, his fingertips shaking, and Davos wishes him a good day before closing the door.
Right.
He did say it. He doesn’t know how Theon is going to take it, but someone had to tell him, and he’s glad it’s out of the way.
Now, well.
Now he has to go finalize his alliance.
Then he will worry about everything else.
