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It had snowed hard the last few nights, Davos feet sank into the earth as the snow gave way under them with each step.
This was the norm in these distant grey wastes where no man in his right mind would ever think to venture. He would know, he had made trips to the Wall before, when he was but a small-time smuggler.
The chill air scratched at his throat lungs with each breath, and seemed to prickle and tear at his flesh. Flakes of snow gathered like dust on his thick cloak, and the torch in his hand looked as if it would sputter out any moment. He almost found himself envious of the Red Priestess, of how she was barely troubled by the cold all around them.
Almost.
Melisandre had fallen on hard times with the arrival of the 'avatar' of her so-called Red God. She had continually lost favor with the King, who trusted his own judgment more and more. Her role had been reduced from an influencing presence to that of a painting, that sat and watched in silence from a wall.
And odd as it was, Davos was grateful for this. Even if he did not know why it had become so. It was Stannis' own judgement that won him loyalty so fierce his men were ready to charge into fire and death for him, not a witch's counsel.
Davos cast a quick glance over his shoulder, at the stony face of the boy he'd been sent to bring to the King, then quickly took to lowering his head before the snow could fall in his eyes.
However, Davos' own affinity for a quiet journey wasn't entertained by his companion.
"What does Sta-... His Grace want with me," Jon Snow looked around, at the dark night around them, and the braziers blazing in the distance, "at this hour?"
His confusion was justified, Davos realised. At times, they would pass small patrols, men in armour huddled together around fires, but all others, even northmen, had retreated to the warmth of their quarters.
Davos looked up, and saw the King's Tower standing proud beyond them, candles flickering in windows at its tallest point. The Wall, even though Davos knew it was right next to them, disappeared into the dark night.
"I don't know, boy." Davos said truthfully, groping at his left hand for fingers that hadn't been there for a long time. "King Stannis does little outside what's necessary. It is not just you he had woken up. Wylis Manderly and Harrion Karstark will join you, as will the King's Council."
The bastard of Eddard Stark went silent a while, before speaking his words in a plainer voice than a boy his age should have had. "I still don't see why I am needed."
"We'll know soon, won't we?" Davos offered just as they reached the tower.
The two guards outside broke into startled alarm, then relaxed when they realised it was him.
"Ser Davos, you think you could have someone make a fire near here? A moment more and my balls will freeze. My father would turn in his grave if I died without an heir." One asked as he pushed open the ancient oak door.
"Knowing you, you losing your balls be the best thing that happen to the rest of us." The other quipped. "Ain't like they see much use anyway, ugly fucker. Ser Davos, I seen a whore refuse this man even when paid double her usual."
With a grateful nod and slight smile, Davos passed by and Jon followed him as he started up the spiralling stairs.
They were halfway up when Jon spoke up again.
"Is it true what they say? That Stannis had one of his men gelded?"
"Aye," Davos sighed. "Stannis has forbidden rape and other crime among his men."
Stannis was a man who decided one's worth based on their acts, not on their lineage or their wealth. Oftentimes, that meant he would punish lords as he would commoners, and reward them the same way.
He had elevated Davos from a lowly smuggler to a Lord with his own land for his actions, there was no greater example. At least, Davos didn't need one.
The so-called man had been some lordling, and he was punished as common filth for the act. It had garnered approval from the Northmen and Stormlanders but earned no favours from 'higher men'.
They mattered little to the king, either way.
Davos had been there when they made their appeals and when they had been denied in a single word.
Jon Snow went silent again, and this time, he stayed as such until they were inside the King's quarters.
Wylis Manderly stood quietly near a window, his green doublet stained with oils and bits of food. He fixed his bushy moustache when they entered, and watched with curious beady dark eyes. Davos did not want to imagine what the fat lord would like with hair instead of a bald scalp. Harrion Karstark sat on a wooden chair beside him, arms crossed.
In the far corner, Mance Rayder, formerly the King-Beyond-The-Wall offered them a light smile, wearing his sealskin robes.
A blonde woman stood beside him, and for a moment, Davos was struck. She looked a southern lady, but he knew she was anything but when he recognised her.
It was Val, the Wildling Princess.
Many lords had attempted to court her, and been harshly rejected. The attempts had stopped when she'd gelded some Bolton bastard with a knife, then bled him out on the snow before slitting his throat.
Davos suspected the only reason she had avoided any sort of rebuttal for her actions was because she had declared that she had been claimed already. By a being that made Davos tremble with every mention.
Nodding at Jon, Davos strided over to Stannis by the hearth and stood behind him, beside the quiet Melisandre who seemed lost in her own world. As ever, even when greeting his lords, the King of the Seven Realms wore only a roughspun tunic and simple breeches.
He gave Davos a nod, then turned to Jon.
"Jon Snow."
Jon jerked, then went on his knee and lowered his head, "Your Grace."
"As King, I legitimise you. You are hereby Jon Stark, and you will speak on this council in your brother's stead until he joins us." He proclaimed plainly and the room went silent save for the crackling wood.
"Y...Yes, Your Grace." Jon choked on his own words.
"If I may, your Grace, a basta-" Harrion Karstark started, but was silenced by a stare.
"Do you mean to deny my word? He is a Stark. It is done."
"No, no, never, Your Grace." The Karstark withdrew his words with a gulp, lowering his head.
Wylis put a hand on Harrion's shoulder. He then quietly asked, "If I may, Your Grace. Could we know the reason for... this?"
Stannis looked to Davos who quickly retrieved a piece of parchment from above the fireplace, offering it to his King. He then held it up for all to see.
"This is word from the Warden of the North. Robb Stark. In it, he makes a request and makes Jon Stark the heir to Winterfell. I do not believe I need to say more without calling your loyalty into question."
"Yes," Wylis conceded, bowing his bald head low. "We will do as our lord has commanded."
"Then it is done." Stannis put his hands behind his back, and turned to Mance Rayder.
"How many?"
Mance smiled and held his hands to either side, offering a curt bow. "Twenty-and-three thousand... Your Grace. They will cause you no trouble. We are grateful for The Gift and for the opportunity you have so graciously seen fit to give us."
"See to it that they know what is expected of them," Stannis accepted. "I will have them situated proper once I take my throne. But do not think your attempt at humour escapes me, I suggest you choose some other craft if you are to make a living."
"The concern is appreciated, Your Grace. My people will cause you no trouble. Not when they think a God has decreed you and yours their King."
Val laughed suddenly, then quieted down without any words of her own.
Davos found it somewhat odd that the wilding-... free folk, famous for their fierce resistance to the laws of men, had bent the knee so easily to Stannis, without any conflict. They had simply approached the Wall with a molten sword, and offered their fealty, then gone on to comply with everything asked of them.
"And he has. King Stannis is Azor Azhai, the champion of R'hllor."
Val had words for the priestess then. The Wildling Princess spit on the ground and cursed in some ancient tongue before reaching for the bone knife at her belt. "They do not follow whatever God you kneelers have made to cloud the minds of lesser men. They speak of something older, and far greater than fumes and herbs."
"Is that so?" Melisandre sang, a smile creeping onto her lips.
The woman stood taller than most men, and was unsettling in a way Davos couldn't put into words. The hearth beside him sputtered and grumbled, rising and rising until it pricked at the stone roof and made Davos feel as though he was about to catch fire.
"Quiet. I will not have some woman's quarrel in my quarters. Leave."
The flames died down, and Val let go of her knife with a snort, crossing her arms.
"My deepest apologies, Your Grace."
"...Yes, my apologies as well."
Once the women were quiet, Stannis spoke again, not shifting even slightly.
"The Others. I am told you have seen them."
Mance looked down grimly.
"Yes. You expect details I possess. It is as the stories say. I think they were scouting before, testing the waters, so to speak. But something stirred them nasty a little while before your war began. It might seem like years to you, but for us, it was far worse, as though it has been decades. Imagine it a while. You check every nook, every corner. Every shadow brings death. Your own dead, brothers and fathers and sisters and mothers, rise to rip at you with cold dead fingers. Then come their masters. Speaking words you don't understand. With swords that screech and howl, passing through metal like paper. We became desperate. Desperate enough to kneel."
"We've all heard this. Of the Others," Harrion Karstark said calmly. "Stories for children. Dead fairytales."
Davos disagreed. The North had not seen what the rest of the Seven Kingdoms had. They did not know that word of a god walking among men was not some empty rumour but the complete truth. He had destroyed a Kingdom whole, and broken others.
"No. Not fairytales, living nightmares. They found us wherever we hid. Sometimes in the night, and in the day too. Tens of thousands of my proud people died, and I became desperate enough to kneel to you. No sword cuts them. No arrow pierces them."
Stannis was barely perturbed, Davos noted, even as a sudden chill befell the quarters. The King cast a glance at the fire, then said calmly. "A fate you forced upon yourself. You could have respected your fellow man and his right to live, that was all we asked. My brother would have taken you in easily. No matter, I will do the same now. You say no weapon harms them and yet you claim your people were attacked before they left and you stand before me now. How?"
Sighing, Mance stepped back. He gave a slight nod to Val who then stepped forward and explained their escape. How Karl, that thing, had wielded a fire red as blood and burnt them all to ash and dust. Then given chase after telling them to make for the Wall.
"With any luck, he killed them all. He claims he got up to the Shivering Sea in that month it took him to join us." She finished with a shrug.
"I hope so," Davos echoed the sentiment, "but we'll need a way to fight them if they do come. There has to be something."
Karl had left already, on that scaled beast he made his mount, and they stood without way or weapon to confront whatever it was that was coming for them. From the looks of it, it didn't sound like something he wanted to see.
All of them looked at each other with grim faces, unable to think up a solution to their plight.
"There… might be a way."
Unexpectedly, it was Jon Snow who had the answer.
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Hope you enjoyed.