The maesters had saved his life, but Davos Seaworth felt closer to death than ever before. Even though the Watchers on the Wall tried their best to blunt the sword, he knew his face was mangled and broken. Whenever he passed his fingers over it, he felt the rocky nose, the scars. He did not have the vision to see his face in the waters. The only things he could see were darkness and lesser darkness.
He stood with his cane, meant both for his eyesight and his balance, while the Starks spoke. “We need to summon the other lords and ladies to the capital,” Sansa was telling Jon. “Jaime Lannister and Ellaria Sand have bent the knee, but Robin Arryn, Brynden Tully and Randyll Tarly need to. Varys tells me Yara Greyjoy means to wage war. Defeating her will be easy-”
“No,” Jon said, immediately. “War breeds only more war. If you tell me the crown has its gold and allies, I’m sure we can sue for peace.”
Davos had no sight, but he could feel the tension the conflict of interest had bred. “Jon,” Sansa said, “the Greyjoys are by nature conquerors. If you ask them their terms, they would demand Winterfell or lands in the Reach. It is not only them – there is war brewing in the Riverlands. The Dothraki that fled from Daenerys’ army are pillaging villages. Northern lords are restless because you bent the knee to Daenerys. The Lannisters are gone, but there will be more Lannisters. War never ends.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Jon replied. “But that does not mean we cannot try. If the Dothraki cause problems in the Riverlands, we can send them ships to move to Essos. If there is tension among northern lords, I’m sure you are capable of diffusing it.” He paused. “The people and the council saw me as their king. I never asked for it. But if I am to seat the Iron Throne, my priority is peace. As was Daenerys Targaryen’s.”
Davos agreed. The Great Wars were finally over, and now was a time for calm. Now was a time when babies were birthed and alliances strengthened by marriage. Westeros was too weary for another war.
“Davos,” Jon said, to which the Onion Knight’s ears perked. “We fought the White Walkers together, but our meeting was a happy accident. You were sworn to Stannis Baratheon before his death, loyal till the very end. I can think of no better honor than to bestow you the seat of Storm’s End.”
Davos felt sweet joy. “I am truly honored, Your Grace,” he said. And thankful. He was fearful Jon would select him his Hand. That day would come soon, Davos envisaged, when Sansa would be forced to return to Winterfell and he would have a lordship in the Stormlands as well as a seat on the Council, like Renly Baratheon.
But for now, he was Lord of the Stormlands, together with his wife after years. The thought made the pain on his face and body dissolve. I’m coming home, Marya.
*
Comments