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The first thing Ned Stark could feel was warmth. He was warm. Not uncomfortably so. But warm. Soothing. And instead of the cold hard stone of the black cells, he could feel something soft and giving beneath his back. His eyes fluttered, and for the first time in a long time he wasn't met with darkness. But light. Soft light. As his senses slowly started coming back to him, he could feel a slight rocking. A swaying back and forth. A ship? Was…Was he in a ship cabin? No, he couldn't be.
As his eyes opened and his vision focused, he could barely make out the sparsely furnished room he was in. He could hear water crashing against the walls. The groaning of wood. 'I'm on a ship,' he realized. 'Impossible. I – I must've finally gone mad. Or am dreaming. But either way…this is far preferable to the black cells. Even if for a time.'
Hearing a quill scratching across paper, Ned turned his head towards the sound and found a figure sitting near his bedside. He froze. His heart ceased to beat. Then realization set in. "Gods," he murmured lowly, closing his eyes and letting his head settle back against the soft pillow beneath his head. "I am dead…or perhaps gone mad."
He couldn't help the loud yelp that left his mouth as the woman leaned over and stabbed him in the arm with the tip of her quill. "No. You're not dead. Nor are you mad. Though that last statement might be debatable given what I know of you."
Ned's heart started beating faster and faster in his chest as the woman got up from her seat and made her way to the back of the small cabin where a pitcher and cup were sitting on the lone dresser in the room. "…Ash?"
Ashara Dayne, the first woman he had ever loved, the woman he thought long ago dead froze as she was pouring water from the pitcher and into the cup.
"Once upon a time," she muttered, setting the pitcher down and walking back to him and offering him the cup. "For now, I'm simply 'Voice'. Drink. I don't know what those bastards were giving you…but your time in and since the Black Cells were not kind. You need to drink. Slowly."
This…This wasn't possible. Ashara was dead. She'd – She'd been dead for years. Ever since he brought word of her brother's fall…which led to her demise. For years he knew it was his fault. He, the man who took her innocence and intended to wed her…betrayed her by wedding another and then murdering her brother.
Feeling the cup on his lips, his body acted on its own. His lips spreading as the cool water slid past them and down his throat. "Slowly," Ashara chided him when he tried to drink all the water at once. "You've been in bed for days, just barely waking enough to take a sip before slipping back into sleep."
Coughing weakly, Ned wanted to rise, but he found that he had no strength in his body. Even lifting his arms and turning his head was exhausting. "Ashara…you're…how?"
She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Hells, perhaps even more so. And she was here, standing next to him. Very much alive despite the realm knowing that she had thrown herself from one of the towers in Starfall. Yet despite her beauty, despite her still drawing breath, her face was a blank mask with little warmth. "Tales of my death were spread by the one who…needed my service."
"And who was that?" Ned asked, fighting to stay conscious, to gaze at her face. The fear that as soon as he closed his eyes she would disappear once again was forcing him to stay awake despite every part of his body and mind wanting rest once more.
Ashara hesitated as she sat down on the bed next to him. The soft padding dipped slightly beneath her weight. Yet instead of answering, her soft warm hand came up and touched the side of his face. Immediately he closed his eyes and turned his face into the warmth of her hand. It was still soft. "There will be time for that later, Ned. For now, sleep."
Ned didn't want to sleep. He didn't want her to leave. Yet despite his desire to stay awake, his eyes would not open. Her gentle hand caressing the side of his face lulling him into blissful sleep. "Sleep, my wolf… Sleep."
Pressing her back against the cabin door, Ashara fought to regain her composure. Her heart refused to slow as her breath came and left her in a rush. After all these years she was sure that she had buried the past. But now that she was confronted with it…she knew that she had not. Seeing Ned. Feeling him. Gods, even smelling him… It brought back everything. Everything she'd had. Had hope to have. What she lost…and what she'd had to leave behind. She wanted to hate him. By the gods did she want to. Ned sided with the beasts that killed her dearest friend and did nothing besides walking away instead of pushing for justice. And more. Ned killed her own brother. He left her after they'd sworn their hearts to one another! She wanted to hate him. To despise him. But by the gods…she couldn't. Even after everything…she still loved him.
"How is he?"
Composing herself, she turned towards her approaching companion. Despite his age and not even wearing his armor, Ser Barristan Selmy was still perhaps one of the most intimidating men she had ever met. "Still resting," she said, "he woke briefly enough to speak. But he was quick to fall back asleep. His wounds have all closed. And hopefully whatever it was that those bastards poured down his throat will be out of his body soon."
"That is good to hear," Barristan nodded. "The realm, nay the world, needs more men like him."
'Fuck the world and realm,Ineed him,' she wanted to say, yet she held her tongue.
Seeing that she wasn't about to respond, Barristan pressed on. "I questioned the captain on when we would be arriving in the North. He told me that we were not heading to the North. Yet he would not elaborate on where we are going. Perhaps you would be so good as to enlighten me on to where Nox is sending both of us and the Warden of the North in a time of war when we should be on the frontlines?"
"Not all wars are won on the field of battle, Barristan," Ashara stated plainly, her heart and mind still in the room with Ned. "And right now the North stands almost completely alone. They will need help. And help is what we are going to be gathering."
"And where is that exactly?" Barristan pressed.
"Essos," Ashara answered. "Specifically, Braavos for now. Those that we are seeking should be gathered there last I heard. I just hope that they are still there."
Barristan frowned, but years of serving as a Kingsguard had ingrained in the legendary knight not to question orders. So, he merely nodded, accepting their course. "Very well, Lady Dayne. If I may be so bold, you need rest my lady. I can stand vigil over Lord Stark for a while."
She wanted to say that there was no need, but she didn't. She knew Barristan. Quite simply, he was bored and was desperate for something, anything, to do. And while standing vigil might seem boring to most, it was still something that he could do to occupy his time. "Thank you, Barristan," she nodded, feeling the fatigue of the last few days weighing on her. "If he wakes again, please call upon me."
Making her way back to her cabin, which was honestly just right across from Ned's, Ashara opened her door and stepped in before quickly closing and locking the door behind her. Her cabin was just like Ned's, and just as sparse. The only thing she had was a single chest with a few clothes and coin to pay for what needed to be done. And one other thing as well. Going to the chest, she knelt and opened it. Moving her clothes aside, she opened up a hidden false panel on the bottom, revealing a small jade-colored glass candle within. Taking out the candle, she set it up right before sitting with her legs crossed and letting out a calming breath.
Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the warmth of the candle as a small glow like an ember grew within the depths of the glass. While the Daynes might not have been known to have the overly magical blood of the Valyrians or the Starks, they were still one of the oldest families in Westeros. Many in her line had been blessed with similar powers that could've rivaled the Starks before the coming of the Andals. And those rumors were said to be one of the reasons why Nymeria took Ser Davos Dayne as her third husband despite having struck down the Daynes during Nymeria's War.
Unfortunately for her, whatever power she might've had had withered away. Now all she could do was activate these candles. While it could still be considered an impressive feat, and one that was impossible to most, she couldn't help but feel almost slighted by her lack of power. But she still held out hope that…
'Voice. I take it that you managed to get Ned out of King's Landing?'
The voice of Lord Nox almost rung in her ears like the crashing of waves against stones. Not painful, but loud and clear. "I did," she said, speaking towards the glass candle. "I also managed to secure the loyalty of Ser Barristan Selmy. And we are on route to Braavos as planned."
'Good. The Stark boys will be heartened to hear that their father is alive and well. Though I will need to stress the importance of keeping this information quiet. We don't need our enemies to know that we know of Ned's escape. Do you have what you need to secure their support?'
"I do," she nodded. "The offer should be more than enough. And if not, then the Iron Bank is close enough to collect the extra incentive that might be needed."
'Good. And your past with Ne—?'
"Will not be an issue." Ashara responded quickly, not wanting to dwell on the subject in the least.
The Sorcerer's voice went quiet for some time. 'Take this advice from someone who has lost someone they loved, lost a child and nearly lost their wife. Life is far too short. You know what you want, even if you don't want to admit it. Take it. Enjoy life and all it has to offer and fuck anyone who thinks otherwise. Don't wait until you are reunited in the Force. I will check in with you after you arrive in Braavos.'
The connection with the sorcerer ended as the candle lost the slight glow within and returned to just another ornate piece of glass. The words of the Sorcerer rang in her ears even as she sat in silence. She wanted to take his advice. By the gods she wanted nothing more than to leave her room, return to Ned's and climb in next to him and pretend like the past near two-decades had never happened. But it was not that simple. There was…so much that needed to be discussed before such a thing could even be considered. Old wounds that would need to be reopened. And pain. So much pain. It would be so much easier to just let things continue as they were. But… Is that what she truly wanted? To live the rest of her life as Voice instead of as Ashara?
Unable to truly decide, Ashara crawled into her uncomfortable bed and laid her head down and closed her eyes. But no matter how much she tried not to think of it, she could not remove the sound of Ned's voice from her ears. The warmth of his skin from her hands. Or the taste of him from her lips. Eventually sleep came for her. A slight smile on her face as she sank into her memories of Harrenhal and the time when her beloved wolf was hers and hers alone.
Standing near the window overlooking the courtyard of Dragonstone below him, Ser Davos Seaworth couldn't help the uneasy feeling that was swirling in his gut as he remembered the scene of that foreign sorceress burn the effigies of the Seven while nearly half of Dragonstone stood around her chanting about darkness coming and fighting it back. He was not a religious man by any measure, but even he knew better than to burn the effigies of the gods amongst those who still owe them their allegiance. And had it not been for the fact that Lady Selyse Baratheon was standing amongst those chanting, and the fact that Lord Stannis had given his approval for the ceremony. He was sure that some brave sod with a sharp blade would have tested his luck and tried to end the sorceress.
"Read the letter back to me."
Turning away from the sight of the burning effigies, Davos tried to take his mind off of what was happening down below and focusing on the men assembled in around the Painted Table. Lord Stannis, or rather King Stannis, was sitting at the head of the table as Davos's own son, Matthos, held the letter that King Stannis was preparing to send across Westeros. In truth, Davos couldn't have been prouder than he was of his son. The boy had risen high in becoming King Stannis's personal scribe, a feat that Davos could never hope to replicate as letters still evaded him entirely. Maester Cressen was seated near to the king as well. The older Maester pointedly ignoring the sights and sounds of what was going on outside the walls of Dragonstone. The spot to Stannis's right, a place of honor, was occupied by perhaps the one woman Davos did not want anywhere near his King, the Lady Melisandre. In her short time at Dragonstone, the lady had quickly rose to become King Stannis's chief advisor. And how she had managed to reach such a level was explained by the very pregnant form of Her Grace, Queen Selyse, who was sitting along the back way with a hand on her stomach which held the child growing within her and a smile on her face.
The King had kept Melisandre at arm's length for a long time, allowing her to practice her faith but little more. Queen Selyse however struck up a friendship with the Red Priestess. Almost without notice, the Queen became pregnant after going through some sort of 'ritual' under the eyes of the Red Priestess. After that, his King started listening to her as a new voice on his council. That voice had grown louder and louder as time passed. And now she was His Grace's primary advisor. She'd even managed to convince the King that the Lord Sorcerer was some agent of some 'great other' and that he was corrupting the Princess Shireen. Which was why the poor girl had been stripped of her weapon and put under heavy guard as soon as she stepped foot back on Dragonstone.
Personally, Davos thought that woman mad. The Sorcerer had done better for the people of Westeros, and King Stannis as well, than just about any other man in history. The idea that he was some agent of an unfathomably evil being who wanted to destroy all life was laughable in his opinion. But sadly, her voice and ideas regarding the Sorcerer had found their home within Stannis, and now his King held the same beliefs. The Sorcerer was too powerful and needed to be put down.
Clearing his throat, Matthos moved his hands towards the top of the letter. "I, Stannis of House Baratheon, do hereby declare on the honor of my House that my beloved brother—"
"He wasn't my beloved brother," Stannis interrupted. "I didn't love him. And he did not love me."
Suppressing his wince, Davos spoke up. "It's a harmless courtesy, your grace."
"It's a lie. Take it out."
Dipping his quill in the ink, Matthos made a mark on the letter before continuing. "—that my brother, King Robert Baratheon, left no trueborn heirs. The boys, Joffrey and Tommen, as well as the girl Myrcella, having been born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her brother, Jamie Lannister. By right of—"
"Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer." Stannis interrupted again. "Call him what he is. Though we should add 'Ser' as well. He is a knight of the realm, no matter how dishonorable he is."
Matthos again nodded, making the changes in the letter. "—having been born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her brother, Ser Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer. By right of blood in being my late brother's eldest brother and with him having no legitimate heirs, I do hereby declare myself King of the Seven Kingdoms and call for all Lords of the land to submit. Any who deny my right will be declared traitors to the crown. Signed, King Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name, Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Adequate," His Grace nodded. "Make enough copies for every keep from the Arbor to the Wall to receive one. It's time for the truth to come out. Let none claim ignorance as an excuse for denying me my right as King."
Gathering the papers in hand, his son rose and bowed lowly before taking his leave of the council to follow the orders of their king.
"Yer grace," Davos began once his son was out of the room. "Has there been word of your brother? Last we heard he was heading for the Tyrells. Perhaps if we managed to get word to him, he could help convince the other lords of your right to—?"
"We will not go begging to my brother for his support," Stannis cut in, his face hard. "My brother knew the law, yet he fled the moment Robert passed. Had he the same suspicions as I, then he should have come to me and declared his loyalty by now. Yet he instead chose to run. He will either bend the knee and accept my right as King. Or, brother or not, he will face the consequences of his actions. I will not shield him any longer."
"King Stannis has no need to go begging to whatever lords are scattered across the realm," the Red Priestess said, her voice melodic and soothing, like a warm fire on a cold day at sea. "He has the Lord of Light behind him."
Davos wanted to huff in frustration. He'd had only a few dealings with the Red Priests and Priestess in his time. But their fanaticism could put even the most devout Septon or Septa to shame. Which made them irritating and dangerous to deal with. "And how many ships does the Lord of Light command?"
Melissandre's face remained impassive, almost like she was a mother lecturing her child. "The Lord of Light has no need for ships."
"I am sure he doesn't," Davos nodded. "But we do. Clearly, you've never been to war, milady. The fighting is just a small part of it. Supplying our troops with what they need and gettin them where they need to go is the true war. Yer grace, if not your brother… Then perhaps the Starks? Word is Lord Stark is still alive, albeit held prisoner. If we can secure his loyalty, then—"
"The Starks are fully under the thrall of the Servant of the Great Other," Melisandre countered almost viciously. "It is taking almost all I am to keep the young Princess shielded from his corruption. No. The only use the Starks have for His Grace now is to whittle away at the numbers of the false believers and the lions so that the true King may take his proper place."
This time Davos did growl. "Whilst I respect yer opinion, Priestess,sayingsuch things andprovinthem are two separate things. While many in Westeros know and fear the Sorcerer – Servant…even more respect him for his years of service. Hells, it's well known that even Tywin Lannister respects and fears the man. If we try and attack while both are still standin and proclaim the 'Servant' as you call him to the realm, there is a chance that the Old Lion will put aside the desires of the Faith and align with the Sorcerer to keep his blood on the Iron Throne."
He could almost see wisps of flames behind the woman's eyes as she glared at him. "Neither the Great Other or his Servant can stand against the might of those who follow the Lord of Light!"
"Yet the Lord of Light has little presence in Westeros as of now, and my Hand speaks true," the King spoke up, his voice demanding all to listen. "Right now, the Old Lion and the Faith are united against the Wolves. We will demand all bend the knee. But we will not out the Sorcerer for his true nature yet. Not while he is useful in thinning the numbers of the lions and the followers of this 'Exalted March'. After I claim the Iron Throne as is my right, then we will deal with him. Until then, we will remain silent on his nature. And speaking of my daughter, how fares your attempts to remove the Servant's influence from her mind as you did for myself and my queen?"
Melisandre quickly composed herself once more. "The attempts are slow, your grace. While yourself and the good Queen Selyse only had slight contact with the Servant, the Princess Shireen spent years in his presence and his influence on her is great. I have sent word to my brothers and sisters in Asshai, and they are sending more of the faithful to serve Azor Ahai. Once they arrive, and perhaps with more direct methods, we will be able to purge his foul presence from the young Princess."
"See it done," Stannis declared. "Ser Davos. You are correct in that we need more than the royal fleet if we are to hold the Blackwater, protect ourselves from potential attack from the north or the south and to ferry enough men to take King's Landing. Are any of your…friends from your previous occupation willing to sail under my banner?"
Davos had a few in mind that he could reach out too. Most in the Stepstones. "A few, yer grace. However, they will not come cheap."
"Sellsails," one of the many knights around the table spat. "They should be willing to sail beneath the banner of the one true King of Westeros and Azor Ahai without the need for such material things as coin."
"Perhaps," Davos nodded. "But these men are not lords. And most are not even of Westeros. They are under no obligation to swear themselves to the Iron Throne and King Stannis. They sail for coin or not at all."
"Make contact. Go yourself if you must in order to purchase their services," His Grace commanded. "You have leeway to offer them gold. And even perhaps Lordship for those who set themselves apart during the coming war. We will have many traitors to purge and will need new lords to take their place. Maester Cressen. Have we received ravens from Storm's End?"
The aged Maester nodded, his face impassive, but none could deny the anger that was in his eyes whenever he glanced towards the Red Priestess, which was understandable. The Maester's counsel had been slowly ebbed away in favor of the Red Priestess. The older man had cautioned King Stannis multiple times against taking up the faith of R'hllor and about making peace with the North or reaching out with offers to other Kingdoms. Sound advice. But advice that was ignored as their King was adamant that all needed to bend the knee to him or else they were traitors. "A raven arrived in the night. Your brother, Lord Renly, has not made for Storm's End. However, your late brother Robert's baseborn son, Edric Storm, has been confirmed to be within the walls under the guardianship of Ser Cortnay Penrose. He has expressed…concerns given your conversion to the faith of R'hllor as those of Storm's End and Edric Storm remain followers of the Faith of—"
"I don't care," Stannis cut off the aged Maester. "Send another raven. Inform Ser Penrose that he and Edric are to present themselves to me here in Dragonstone within a fortnight or be considered traitors to the crown and will be dealt with accordingly. He, along with the other bastards my brother sired, are the key to removing the Lannisters from what is rightfully mine. Have you managed to find any of the other bastards my brother sired with the information I gave you?"
The Maester swallowed. "I sent a raven to the Eyrie, demanding the surrendering of Mya Stone. However, no response has been given. Gendry and Barra are both in Winterfell. There were tales that Lady Nox identified a young boy to be Robert's son and intended on presenting him to Lord Nox for training. However, after the Starks fled, the boy and his mother were killed by the Inquisitors. I have located a girl named Bella Rivers hailing from the Stoney Sept. Her description matches the Baratheon line, and her birth aligns with the time your brother spent in the Stoney Sept during the Rebellion. I have also found a set of twins, Hans and Gret, in the Crownlands born of a whore who left King's Landing some years ago."
"Good," Stannis nodded, "Melisandre has discovered my brother fathered six-and-ten bastard children. We have identified eight. I want the other eight found and brought here to Dragonstone."
It might have been a trick of the light, but Davos could've sworn he saw Melisandre grin at hearing this. But it vanished so quickly that he was sure it was just his imagination. Rising to his feet, prompting all of them to do as well, Stannis held out his hand to help his queen to her feet. "You all have your duties. See to them. Dismissed."
Waiting until His Grace departed, Davos let out a huff and avoided everyone else as he turned and began ascending the steps up the Stone Drum towards the uppermost room. Arriving at the top of the winding stairs and having to stop a moment to catch his breath, Davos immediately saw his goal. A single room with four men of House Baratheon standing guard outside. The guards all recognized him, and none stopped him as he calmly walked forward and entered the room. Within the room, he was immediately greeted with the sounds of a light song being sung in a child's voice. Sitting in a chair near the window that overlooked the harbor was Shireen Baratheon. However much His Grace and the Red Priestess might diminish or slander the accomplishments of the Sorcerer, Davos could only see the good whenever he looked at the Princess. Her face was almost completely free of any blemishes from her ordeal with greyscale. And more than that, she held herself with a grace and confidence that had certainly not been there before she left to study under the Sorcerer.
"Ser Davos…My only friend."
Davos wanted to sigh and wince. Ever since she'd arrived moons ago, letter in hand from Robert demanding Stannis's immediate return to King's Landing to explain his recent inactions, the Princess had been a captive in all but name. With no one, not even her mother and father coming to her. The Red Priestess had done something to keep her from using her strange powers. And they had even confiscated the Princess's blade, her lightsaber she called it. The blade had been given to the Maesters by Stannis with orders to unravel its secrets. But neither the man, nor even the Red Priestess, could understand just how the blade functioned. And they'd been quite thorough in their…dismantlingof the incredible weapon to find those secrets.
"I am not your only friend, Princess," Ser Davos stated, walking forward towards the small table that had a cyvasse game set up.
Sitting down on one side of the table, he waited for the Princess to join him. "I am not a 'Princess', Ser Davos," Shireen sighed, getting up from where she was gazing out over the harbor to join him.
Sighing, Davos began setting up his side of the board. "Yer father is King. That makes you a Princess, yer grace."
Shireen set up her pieces in less than half the time it took Davos. "And what makes a 'King', Ser Davos?" Shireen asked, raising the partition that separated the two sides of the board.
Frowning, Davos took his time looking over the board before moving his trebuchet. He knew from experience just how good the young princess was at this game. So, if he didn't concentrate, she would obliterate him. Again. For the twentieth time in a row. "King Robert had no true born children, making yer father his heir. Now that King Robert has died, King Stannis is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," Ser Davos responded.
Barely glancing at the board, Shireen moved her light horse in response. "An heir who left his brother alone and ignored his demands to return knowing full well that he was in danger. And now a King who believes that everyone should kneel to him simply because he has a piece of metal on his head and who is actively planning on overthrowing the only Faiths that've been known in the land for millennia in favor of another. And a father who has ignored his daughter simply because he is now expecting the son he always wanted."
Sighing, Davos moved his dragon forward to reinforce some of his other pieces. "Your father is an honorable and just man, Princess."
"Aye he is. But he is those things to a fault." Shireen countered, moving her archers to counter his dragon. "Yet even my 'honorable and just' father is not immune to the draw of power. Make no mistake, Ser Davos. My father is playing the great game. He, and possibly even Jon Arryn, figured out that King Robert's children were not his. Instead of bringing forth the suspicion after Jon Arryn's death, my father hid here on Dragonstone. Leaving my royal uncle to the mercy of Lannisters. He was hoping that Robert would die. Only the momentafterKing Robert breathed his last, my father put forth his suspicions and announced he was the rightful King. Those who hate the Lannisters will believe him. Those who hate my father will call him a liar. Those who favor neither will wait until they can be offered something to sway them to their side. This is why my father will fail to claim the Iron Throne. His honor and just nature makes him believe that all men will abide by the law and that they will thus believe his tale regarding Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. And because of that, he is unwilling to try and sway those whose loyalty belongs to neither the Lannisters nor the Baratheons. And that is game, Ser Davos."
Blinking, Davos looked down at the board. He'd been so enthralled by her speech that he'd almost fully neglected the game between them. And she had completely outmaneuvered him to the point where he had no choice but to concede. "You speak true, Princess… But it doesn't change the fact that yer father is the rightful King of Westeros by blood."
"The 'rightful' King he may be. But a King who is unwilling or unable to compromise with those who serve him does not remain a King for long." Shireen sighed. "Tell me, Davos. What do you know of the faith of R'hllor?"
Davos blinked at the sudden change from the Princess. "I tend to try and avoid matters of the faith, Princess."
The Princess nodded. "I understand. However, Master Nox ensured that all of us learned about the different faiths across Westeros and even parts of Essos. You can often understand much about a culture by learning about their religion. And the Faith of R'hllor is…brutal, to say it lightly. They believe heavily in purification and sacrifice through fire. Much as how many in the faith of the old gods would hang the entrails from the weirwoods as an offering to the old gods, the faithful of R'hllor will burn their offerings to their god. Items of importance. Animals. Even people. While this isn't unheard of with other religions, just look at the faith of the Drowned God, the Priest and Priestess of the Red God believe that the more 'powerful' and individual is the more their offering will please their god. Those who carry noble blood…or King's blood if you will, when sacrificed will greatly please the Red God and will increase the chance of the god granting your request."
Davos knew that the Princess was speaking the truth. As ugly as it was, it was the truth. "It's a vile practice, Princess."
"Indeed…though not without merits," Shireen muttered quietly. "Master Nox has…informed us of some of the darker aspects of the Force. Sacrifices can…empower certain darker rituals with the Force. I tell you this not to say that I would do this but…but point out that the idea is not without merit. My father is gathering my late uncle's bastard children, is he not?"
Davos didn't like the fact that the Sorcerer had told the princess such things during his teachings. But he supposed it was no different than the Red Priestess preaching. "Aye, he is, Princess. Several have been found and are being brought to Dragonstone to keep em safe from the Lannisters."
"Is that what my father has told you, or what you have assumed?" the Princess asked, which made Davos frown as he tried to recall His Grace's words when he ordered everyone to find and collect the late King Robert's bastard children. But he couldn't recall exactly why his King wanted them. "Melisandre has already convinced my father to sacrifice the effigies of the Seven and other valuables to the flames. And according to the Faith of R'hllor, there is great power in the blood of Kings. Will you still stand by and accept my father's reign when he starts offering up my bastard cousins to the flames in the name of a foreign faith? And if they don't have the desired effect… Will you stand by and do nothing as my father escalates his fanaticism and eventually offers up me to the flames?"
"He would never, Princess," Davos responded immediately. King Stannis might have…changed since the arrival of the Red Priestess. But he knew his King. Stannis was a good man. A just man. He would never allow innocents to be sacrificed, let alone his own daughter!
"With my brother growing in my mother's womb, I am merely a spare. A damaged, defective spare who has been 'corrupted' by the Northern Sorcerer. The only worth I had to my father now was my hand in marriage to form an political alliance. But now with his conversion and the Red Priestess's condemnation, that worth has been reduced to near nothing. No. The only use I would serve to my father now would be as a sacrifice to the Red God he now owes his allegiance to."
"That won't happen, Princess."
"And if it should come to pass, Ser Davos. What will you do? Will you follow my father as you have always done as his most leal bannerman. Or will you stand for what is right?"
Davos didn't answer. By the gods, or the Force…or whoever or whatever was out there, he hoped that such a day would never come to pass.