Davos Seaworth
The countryside close to Castle Black
Davos rode slowly, part of the group heading west to Castle Black, his mind wandering. The world had changed so much from the one he had once known. Life had been simpler before he saved Stannis during the blockade, back when he was just a smuggler.
Now, he found himself escorting the heir to an ancient house discovered on an island where he had expected to find cannibals. But the truth was far different. The islanders were rowdy, strong-willed people, fiercely protective of their ways and traditions.
His journey's purpose was twofold: to reunite the boy with his brother and to bring him before Stannis. Stannis, who had lost the battle for Winterfell, clung to hope. The Manderlys had sworn their support, but only if he found their liege lord.
And here he was, a wild seven-year-old with unkempt hair and an untamed spirit, riding a massive black direwolf. Rickon Stark had endured many losses. He had lost his home, family, and friends. Yet knowing he would soon see his brother had made the boy smile when he heard the news in Skagos, or at least that was what the wildling woman Osha had told him.
Then there were the Skagosi, ten armored warriors wearing chain mail and riding fricking unicorns. Yet they spoke about Jon Snow as if he were some sort of hero, like the stuff Melisandre talked about. He had heard the talk in Skagos before they left. Two massive dragons had been sighted, but Davos did not believe them.
Yet when they arrived at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, they heard from Cotter Pyke that Jon Snow had died and returned from the dead, and that two dragons had hatched with him. Two massive dragons had arrived at Castle Black, yet the orders were not to spread the word about them.
What he found strange was that the orders seemed to be coming from Jon Snow, who was no longer Lord Commander. A man called Eddison Tollett was. So what was happening with Stannis? Surely, Stannis would spread the word if he had dragons under his command. It would make many flock to his banners and declare for the true King, Davos wondered, confused.
"Castle Black, two hundred meters away!" a ranger at the front of the group called out.
Davos looked up, his gaze settling on the tops of the distant towers and the familiar creak of the elevator that clung to the colossal Wall. He had seen it before in his smuggling days, but its sheer enormity never failed to amaze him. The blue sheen of the ice, stretching endlessly upward, was both beautiful and foreboding.
The party slowed, then came to a halt.
"Come, my lord. It seems we have visitors," he said to Rickon, whose face lit up.
Together with the wildling Osha, they rode to the head of the group.
Ten armored Northmen riding horses waited for them. Not one of Stannis's men, Davos noted.
Then the ten all gaped and smiled brightly, all their faces turning toward the young Stark lord.
"Lord Rickon, it's good to finally meet you," said a smaller man, his voice calm and warm. "I'm Lord Howland Reed. And who are your companions?"
So this is Howland Reed, Davos mused. The Lord of the Neck.
Rickon ignored the question entirely. "Where is my brother?" he asked sharply.
Howland's smile did not falter. "Waiting for you in the courtyard."
Davos seized the moment to answer on behalf of the group. "Lord Reed, I am Ser Davos Seaworth, Lord of the Rainwood and Hand of the King to Stannis Baratheon."
At the mention of Stannis, Howland's face briefly tightened, but Davos pressed on.
"To Lord Rickon's left is Osha, a spearwife of the Free Folk. Behind me are Lord Ballard Magnar, Lord of Kingshouse, and Lord Mudin Stane, heir to Driftwood Hall, both lords of Skagos."
Howland inclined his head politely, though his attention seemed to remain fixed on Rickon. "Very well. One thing to note. Be prepared as you approach the castle. Outside the walls, two dragons lie sleeping."
The group exchanged glances at the mention of dragons.
Lord Ballard leaned close to Mudin and murmured, "See, the warrior of fire and ice wakes the beasts from stone to bring the light."
"True," Mudin replied with a faint smile. "Fire and ice, like our isle."
Rickon urged his direwolf forward, trotting up to ride beside Howland. Osha gave Davos a sidelong glance.
"Mmm, Lord Smuggler, looks like we're in for something big."
"That we are," Davos replied quietly.
Chapter 9: Aemon Targaryen
Aemon Targaryen
Castle Black
Aemon waited there with Shireen by his side. Something that rarely was not the case, and he would wed her on the morrow, binding her to him forever. Yet his mind was on something else. His little brother, whom he had thought dead, was coming to him soon. Bran might still be alive somewhere across the Wall. Sansa had disappeared after helping Tyrion murder Joffrey, although he doubted that was true. Then there was Arya, with no word of her since his uncle's death in King's Landing, and she was probably dead too.
He sighed as he gazed at the gate.
"Aemon?" Shireen said, glancing at him.
"Just thinking about my siblings... cousins now," he replied with a faint smile. "Rickon will be the only one left. The rest are gone, scattered. The pack is divided."
Before Shireen could respond, the door creaked open. Several riders entered, yet Aemon's gaze fell on the rider on the black direwolf, and he knew right away who it was.
Rickon.
Though his hair was wilder, he looked so much like Robb had at that age, with the red hair and the dark blue Tully eyes.
Rickon dismounted quickly, catching sight of Aemon. Without a word, the two ran to each other, closing the distance in an instant.
"JON!" Rickon screamed as they collided in an embrace.
The feeling was almost overwhelming, and he had to bite back a sob. Rickon did not, and soon, Aemon felt the boy sobbing into his neck. He felt something of pure joy then, like when Shireen was in his arms.
I have you back. I thought you were gone for so long. I will protect you with my life, Aemon swore inwardly.
"Oh, I'm here, little brother," he said as he held the boy in the air while they embraced. "You are alright. You are safe with me."
Rickon just kept sobbing.
"They are all gone. Papa and Mama left, Robb left, Bran left, and they all left me," Rickon sobbed.
"I'm here now, and we will be together for a long time," Aemon said as he finally put Rickon down.
"Promise?" the boy asked.
"I do," Aemon replied, kissing the boy on the forehead.
"So, Rickon, why not tell me who you have brought?" he asked as Rickon took his hand and turned to the rest of the group that had arrived.
Rickon smiled then as he wiped his tears away. "Right, that's Osha. She protected me all the way from Winterfell to Skagos and back here," Rickon replied, smiling as he pointed at a Free Folk woman with shaggy brown hair and a slim build that reminded Aemon of Ygritte.
"Then there is Davos, Muldin, and Ballard. The rest are men of Skagos and the Night's Watch," Rickon went on as he received chuckles from the group.
Aemon looked the group over and glanced to the side as he saw Shaggydog and Ghost playing.
The last of the litter, still together, Aemon thought with a smile.
"Very well," he replied, patting Rickon on the shoulder.
"Welcome to Castle Black. I'm Jon Stark, King in the North. To my right is Princess Shireen of House Baratheon, and to my left is Lord Commander Eddison Tollett, and First-ranger of the Watch Ser Allister Thorne." Aemon proclaimed, looking at their faces.
The Skagosi all smiled. The Night's Watch men frowned but nodded. Yet Ser Davos gaped at him and then looked at Shireen for an explanation.
"Ser Davos, it is good to see you again. I feared you were dead, that the Manderlys had beheaded you to prove their loyalty," Shireen started. "As to what the man to my left said, it is true. He is also my betrothed, and tomorrow, we will be wed under the watch of the old gods."
"Princess, your father is the King, and what he is doing is treason. Or has Stannis fallen? If so, you are the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Davos replied.
"King Stannis has fallen that much, which is true, but not in the way you think," Aemon said, his tone measured. "This is not a conversation to have out in the open. Come to us in the King's Tower, and after, as I suspect, you all could use rest and a warm meal."
There were murmurs of agreement and approving nods from those gathered. Aemon glanced at Shireen, who offered him a warm, reassuring smile.
"Ser Davos, my lords, please do as King Jon says. We will explain everything once we are inside," Shireen added with a kind smile.
"As you say, Princess. And you, King Jon," Ser Davos added wearily, looking between them both.
Before more could be said, the lords of Skagos stepped forward. The first was a broad-shouldered, brown-haired man who carried himself with the confidence of command.
"Your Grace," he said, his deep voice echoing in the chill air. "I, Lord Ballard Magnar of Kingshouse, renew my fealty to House Stark and to you, King Jon, warrior of fire and ice. I promise to be faithful and defend you against all enemies in good faith and without deceit."
He knelt, bowing his head in solemn respect.
Aemon regarded him with steady eyes. "I accept your fealty. I swear, by old gods and the new, to ask no service of you that will bring dishonor, to protect you in your hour of need, and to bring you justice if I am called upon to do so. When the war with the Boltons is over, your oaths will be reaffirmed so that all the North may rise as one."
A younger lord, closer to Aemon's age, stepped forward next. His unkempt hair and dark beard gave him a wild appearance, yet his words carried the same weight of solemnity as he knelt.
"Your Grace, I, Lord Muldin, son of Dalbert, Lord of Driftwood Hall, renew my fealty to House Stark and to you, King Jon, warrior of fire and ice. I promise to be faithful and defend you against all enemies in good faith and without deceit."
Aemon nodded and spoke again, his voice carrying authority. "I accept your fealty. I swear, by old gods and the new, to ask no service of you that will bring dishonor, to protect you in your hour of need, and to bring you justice if I am called upon to do so. Together, we will rebuild what has been broken."
With the pledges made, Aemon and the others returned to the solar.
King's Tower, Castle Black
Soon, they were in the King's Tower. Davos, the two lords of Skagos, Howland, Rickon, who would not leave his side, and his protector, Osha the Spearwife, were all gathered there.
"So, Lord Seaworth, I have you to thank for my brother's return, and Lord Wyman too, if I'm correct?" Aemon asked the now-warm, famous smuggler.
"It is, Your Grace," the man said hesitantly. "The whole thing was a ploy to get the Freys to release Wyman's heir. After that, I traveled with the mute Ironborn man to Skagos."
"He found me there in the care of the Skagosi. They taught me how to speak the old tongue, hunt, and fight," Rickon proclaimed proudly, looking at the two Skagosi lords.
Both seemed to puff out their chests at the praise.
"Well, thank you again, my lords, for taking care of my little brother. You could have gained a nice reward for his capture had you ransomed him," Aemon added, grinning at them.
"We remember our oaths. The Starks are the Kings of Winter, and you are the light that will bring the dawn. We follow you both," Lord Ballard proclaimed, and Muldin nodded in approval.
Both struck their chests to show their commitment.
"Well, my lords and Osha, thank you all for returning my brother to me. For that, you have my gratitude and my eternal friendship until the day I die," Aemon replied to the lords.
"It's an honor," Lord Muldin added, smiling brightly.
"The North remembers," Lord Ballard echoed.
"I love the little pup as if he were my own. I would die for him, and I will stay by his side until I die or until he asks me to leave," Osha replied, smiling as she hugged Rickon.
"Never. I will never send you away," Rickon replied quickly, hugging Osha back fiercely.
Aemon smiled. It was good that Rickon had someone who loved him and cared for him.
"As for you, Ser Davos, I suppose this change you returned to must have been a shock?" Aemon asked the Onion Knight.
"It has, but I want to know where my King is," Davos asked.
"My father has taken the black, to answer for his crimes of trying to burn me alive," Shireen replied, her voice sharp as a knife.
Davos looked like a fish at that moment, his mouth gaping, and his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
Howland spoke then to the Onion Knight. "It's true. I saw them light the pyre with King Jon's dead body and the dragon eggs lying upon it, and then Shireen was bound to it. Maege and I were too late to stop it. Soon, the fire engulfed them both. I thought, what has this world come to? That Stannis Baratheon would fall this low. I'm not sure what was worse, the Red Wedding or what he tried to do."
Howland ended, looking sadly at him and Shireen. Throughout the tale, Aemon held Shireen's hand tightly.
"Yes, I only remember waking to find a terrified Shireen. Her greyscale mark was gone, both of us were surrounded by flames, and two small dragons were crawling around us. Then we walked out of the flames to find the black and silver dragon waiting for us. Then I ordered Melisandre and all those responsible for the crime to be imprisoned. Stannis was sentenced to take the black and live with his actions," Aemon added sternly.
Davos just shrank into himself, his eyes full of sadness.
"I'm sorry, Princess," Davos said weakly.
Then he fell to one knee.
"I, Davos Seaworth, Lord of the Rainwood, declare my fealty to Princess Shireen of House Baratheon and her betrothed, King Jon Stark. I promise to be faithful and defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit," Davos pledged.
"Thank you, Ser. I accept your fealty. I swear, by old gods and the new, to ask no service of you that will bring dishonor, to protect you in your hour of need, and to bring you justice if I am called upon to do so.
Now go find your son. We will discuss some other matters later. Devan has been quite helpful to me. He returned from his post at the Nightfort quickly after he heard what had happened. I named him my steward. You raised him well," Shireen said, smiling.
"Thank you, Princess. May you have a good night's rest," Davos said as he bowed and took his leave.
Once Davos was gone, Aemon and Shireen turned back to the gathered Skagosi lords and Rickon.
"So, we will have a queen?" Lord Ballard mused, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Then, with a broad smile, he added, "Congratulations to you both."
Shireen glanced at Aemon, who pulled her close. "Thank you. We're both excited for our future together."
Lord Muldin nodded. "It will be an honor to stand by you both. We shall see you at the evening feast."
Aemon inclined his head. "I look forward to it. Until then, my lords."
The lords took their leave, leaving only Aemon, Shireen, Rickon, and Osha in the room.
Aemon turned to Rickon, his expression serious.
"Rickon, there's something you need to know. Something I learned a few weeks ago," he began, taking Rickon's hand in his. "It's about our father."
Rickon's grip tightened slightly, his face clouding with concern.
Aemon took a steadying breath. "He was not the man who sired me, but he was the one who raised me. And that will always mean something to me. For that, I love him."
Rickon frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Aemon hesitated, then continued. "He kept a secret from me, from us. One I had spent my whole life wanting to know."
His gaze locked onto Rickon's.
"Do you remember what it was?"
Rickon's frown deepened, but then his expression softened with understanding. "Who your mother was." He gave a sad smile. "I remember. You always wondered."
Aemon nodded. "And now I know. You know I died, right?" His voice was quieter now, the weight of that truth settling over them.
Rickon nodded, his fingers tightening around Aemon's.
"When I died, I met my mother," Aemon said softly. "And I met my father."
Rickon's eyes widened with hope. "You saw Father?"
Aemon shook his head. "Not your father, mine."
He took a deep breath.
"Rickon, I'm your cousin. My mother was Lyanna Stark, your aunt. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen. My true name is Aemon Targaryen."
Rickon's lips parted slightly, his breath catching. "So... Father lied to all of us. You're not my brother?" His voice wavered.
Aemon gripped his shoulders firmly. "By blood, no. But in every way that matters, I am. I always will be."
He pulled Rickon into an embrace.
"That will never change."
Rickon buried his face against Aemon's shoulder, his voice thick with emotion.
"You may be my cousin," he murmured. "But you will always be my big brother."
Chapter 9 Ser Davos Seaworth
Ser Davos Seaworth
Castle Black
For a breath, he could not move.
There, across the yard, stood little Daven, one and ten summers old, though he did not seem so little anymore. He wore thicker wool than Davos remembered, black and grey against the cold, with a cloak clasped over one shoulder and a belt at his waist. His cheeks were red from the bite of the northern wind, and his hair had grown longer than his mother would have liked. He looked leaner, too, as if the Wall had carved some of the softness of boyhood from him.
But it was him.
His boy.
His son.
"Daven," Davos muttered.
The name left him like a prayer.
The boy turned at the sound of his voice.
For a heartbeat, Daven only stared. His eyes widened, and all the color seemed to drain from his face. Then his mouth parted, and tears gathered in his eyes so quickly that Davos felt something inside him break.
"Father?"
The word was small, cracked, and full of disbelief.
Then Daven ran.
Davos moved at the same time, pushing past a passing brother of the Night's Watch without apology. His old bones ached from the ride, his legs were stiff from the saddle, and the cold had settled deep into him, but none of that mattered. His son was running toward him.
They collided in a tight embrace.
Daven slammed into him hard enough to make Davos stumble back a step, but he caught the boy and wrapped both arms around him. Daven clutched at his cloak as if he feared Davos might vanish if he let go. His face buried itself against Davos's chest, and soon the boy was sobbing.
Davos held him tighter.
For a moment, he was not the Hand of a fallen king. He was not a knight, not a lord, not the Onion Knight, not a smuggler dragged into the games of kings and red priests and dead men walking.
He was only a father holding his son.
"Oh, I missed you, my boy," Davos said, his voice rough as he kissed the top of Daven's head. "Gods, I missed you."
Daven's fingers twisted in his cloak.
"I thought you were dead," the boy choked out.
Davos closed his eyes.
"I know."
"They said you were dead." Daven pulled back just enough to look up at him, though he did not let go. Tears streamed down his face, leaving wet tracks on his wind-reddened cheeks. "They said Lord Manderly executed you. Stannis told me. He looked at me and called me Lord Seaworth. He told me I was the head of our house now."
Davos looked at his son with guilt. "I know. I'm sorry you, your mother, and your siblings had to go through that. I wanted to tell you, yet I had a duty to Stannis, and he needed the support of the North. Me rescuing or finding Rickon Stark would have done that."
Daven's face hardened. "He tried to kill her, Father. He and that witch. She is dead now, burned by Shireen and Jon."
Davos swallowed. He knew he had heard it from Shireen's lips and from others, yet now his own son said the same. It broke something in him. The trust he had placed in a man he had believed in for so long had been shaken. Stannis had fallen to a place Davos never thought possible. Yet hearing that Mellisandra was dead, burned alive as was comfrom, and something felt like justice, for all those that burn because of her.
"I know. I heard it. I will speak with that man before we leave this place," he said. He needed to. He needed to know why Stannis had done it.
"Do you still follow him?" Daven asked, fury in his voice.
"No, I do not. I have sworn my allegiance to Shireen and her future husband," Davos said, although he was still unsure about that last part.
"Good," Daven muttered. "That man can rot here until he dies."
Davos closed his eyes.
Stannis, how did all this happen?
He knew why, partly because of the witch. Yet Stannis had made the choices, and they had brought him only ruin.
"What of this Jon Stark?" Davos asked.
"He is a good man. He offered me a place as one of his squires, together with another boy named Satin."
That surprised Davos, that King Jon would make his son his squire.
"He is also very protective of Shireen, and it seems she cares for him. You can't speak of this to anyone outside of the Wall. They both rode the two dragons outside, and they hatched two more when they walked out of the flames alive. Although King Jon was dead before that."
Davos's eyes widen at that. Shireen and Jon Stark rode a dragon; they liked some dragon, or the world was coming to an end, and the world needed saviors and the gods. Let them tame the dragons. As for Jon Stark, he heard the lad had died at East Watch by the sea, and that the lad had come back alive. Yet not much else happened with Shireen, and dragons had been expected to be secret.
Yet he had asked his son if the man truly died. "He was truly dead?"
"Yes, I saw the boy, lifeless yet somehow warm, and the traitors who killed him were executed by hanging. But now they are alive again, although different from King Jon, from the stories I know," Daven said.
"What do you mean, others are back?"
"The stories, Father. Of the Others, the white walkers, the wights, the Long Night. They are all true. You know the letter you read to Stannis. It's all true," his son replied.
Davos looked at his son with wide eyes. He had almost forgotten why they had come north, to stop the wildling invasion and because dead things were rising in the North.
"So it's all true?" he asked.
Daven nodded.
"By the Seven," he muttered, and his maimed hand instinctively went to where his pouch used to hang around his neck.
"Yes. If you wish to know more, you should ask King Jon, the black brothers, or the Free Folk," Daven said.
At the last word, Davos frowned. Seeing his look, Daven spoke again.
"It's what the wildlings call themselves."
"Okay. It seems I have much to learn and a wedding to prepare for," Davos said as he embraced his son again. "Oh, I missed you, my boy."
"I missed you too, Father," Daven muttered as they kept their embrace.
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