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“Should we go?”
Stannis pulled the scarf higher over his nose. The armour of mismatched cured leather sat strange on his body after years of getting used to full plate.
“Patience,” he told Loras curtly.
If he felt uncomfortable dressed like a common brigand, then the Knight of Flowers was likely jumping out of his skin, which his incessant fumbling with the old gloves and tunic he was wearing proved. Neither of them were known to prefer such roundabout approach; Stannis had always liked his chances in a direct fight and Loras enjoyed an audience.
Of course, this was orders of magnitude even beyond an ambush on a battlefield or a feint on the tourney grounds and the few people who had been told about Stannis’s plan had been shocked to hear of the idea that the new king would dress up to sneak into a fortress occupied by mercenaries. He’d left them Renly as a collateral, another Baratheon of his blood – much to Renly’s annoyance, as he’d wanted to be part of this adventure –, and since Renly had had the support of quite a few houses before he’d agreed to turn them over into Stannis’s hand, this calmed his chattering advisors.
Maybe some of those on the council hoped he would not return. Stannis did not care at this point. They had only one chance at this sort of subterfuge, one chance to free his husband Davos, who had been sitting in this prison for near two months now, and Stannis would place it in no other hand than his own.
Finally, the last noise around the merchant’s wagon in which they sat among sacks of potatoes and grain ceased. Stannis moved carefully forward and peered through the halves of the canvas covering. The wagon had been left with its back facing the stone wall of the occupied castle. No one should see them slip out here and once they had joined the masses of mercenaries, they should be unrecognisable at least for a little while. Eventually, of course, someone would ask their company, their captain, but they did not plan to stay. It was a reckless manoeuvre to begin with, but Stannis had planned it for a while, pulling back his armies over the weeks to ease the pressure on the mercenaries and make them think that their precious prisoner would keep Stannis from risking battle – something which was, unfortunately, also right, and put Stannis on the back foot. However, this had also made them bold enough to stock up on resources.
He waved at Loras, who, even with his face covered, looked relieved somehow as he jumped to his feet. They climbed carefully out of the back. For now, it did not seem like the driver they had paid off had betrayed them, and they had successfully ducked away from the poking lances of the castle guards when the wagon had rolled inside.
“We’re not getting out through the front,” Loras whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “Not with Davos in tow.”
“No. There’s a passage leading down to a haven inside the castle.”
It had been years since he had last visited this place, emptied now of its owners who had drawn inland to protect their richer pastures, and the skeleton garrison they had left had been slaughtered by the dissatisfied mercenaries of various factions who had hoped for a longer war. Stannis could only hope he would still find his way to the dungeons, but he had asked one of the servants who had fled the massacre to draw floor plans and learned them by heart before coming here to bolster his memories. Loras should have done the same, but Stannis could not blame him for looking for an easier exit. Davos would be recognised by people down in the bowels of the castle as well and the passages could be narrow, easy to get trapped in.
Since it would have been strange for a mercenary to walk without confidence here, in this little domain they had made themselves and secured with Davos’s life, Stannis held his head high as he walked brusquely through a side door into a long corridor. Turning a corner, Loras and him shouldered past a passing group of men and Loras even gave them a friendly nod as Stannis could only hope the beating of his heart did not somehow alert them, knowing at the same time how silly such a notion was. He walked on, following the map in his head.
The stairs to the dungeons descended steeply into a dim darkness, revealing a guard sitting on a stool by a door as they had reached their foot. He looked up at them when they approached.
“Need anyone here?” the guard asked, leaning on his sword.
Stannis grabbed the man’s face, covering his mouth with his palm, and slammed his head backwards into the wall. The dull thud shouldn’t alert anyone and luckily, he’d had no time to scream. Holding him upright, he pulled the thick ring of keys from his hips.
“The barrel!” Loras hissed.
Stannis turned to him to ask what the gods’ names he was speaking off, but then he saw the empty wine barrel in the corner which looked big enough to house the body of a man.
It would not buy them much time, as no doubt someone would eventually investigate why the guard was missing, but at least no one would glance down the stairs and wonder why the sat slumped over his chair. Stannis handed Loras the keys before he lifted the unconscious man into his arms, watching the blood from a laceration trickle on the ground as he did, and stuffed him inside the wooden vessel. Once he had stored him and put the lid back on top, he already heard the door creak.
He followed Loras into the dungeons with his breath held. There were more doors to the left and right, but they stood open save for one at the very end. Too impatient to wait for Loras, Stannis tore the keys back from Loras’s hand, hurrying over to try them one after the other. It took far too long for one to finally slide all the way in.
Davos sat in the corner of the dark room, dressed in a dirt-stained tunic and breeches, his legs naked from the knees down, his arms bare as well. Even in the dim light falling in from the corridor, Stannis could see that his skin showed a patchwork of bruises of varying colour, some fresh, some old. His beard and hair had grown long and tangled. When he saw the two silhouettes against the light of the hallway, he shrank briefly into the corner before taking a deep breath and raising his chin, the look of pride only underlined by the fear Stannis saw in his face.
He broke from Loras’s side and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Davos.”
Davos flinched as he touched him, but grew when Stannis’s face was close. He looked as surprised as he did confounded, as if he could not believe his own eyes.
“My king?”
Belatedly, Stannis tugged down his scarf so Davos could see his whole face. Davos hauled himself forward, wrapping his arms around Stannis’s neck. He could feel his coarse beard press against his cheek as he clung on to him. Stannis grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.
“Let’s go,” he said, trying to make his voice steady. “Can you stand?”
“I think so, yes.”
Davos let go reluctantly, still staring at Stannis as he pulled up his scarf again, then glanced over Stannis’s shoulder.
“Good evening, onion knight,” Loras said.
“Lord...” He stopped himself, glancing nervously around. “You both came for me? This is a dangerous undertaking.”
There was awe in his voice. Despite having been taken hostage for his station, Stannis thought that Davos seemed like he did not expect a king and a lord to be proper rescuers. The fact that he was a king’s husband often seemed to slip his mind when it came to understanding his importance in the world; but Stannis was never bothered by it, since Davos didn’t ever forget that he was Stannis’s man.
“All the better not to leave it to hedge knights and knaves,” Loras decided as he glanced down the hallway. “Should we go back and try to strip that guard, stick Davos in his armour?”
“No time,” Stannis said, turning back to the door as well, his hand tight around Davos’s upper arm. “They will notice something is awry sooner rather than later. Let’s push through to the harbour.”
“We don’t have to go up again. There’s a way through here if you have the keys, down the left,” Davos chimed in, pointing in the other direction. “I always heard them talk when they returned from sea.”
That hadn’t been on Stannis’s map, but more likely than not, the servant simply hadn’t been allowed into this part of the castle too often if at all.
He walked down the other way as fast as Davos could follow, brandishing the keys again and unlocking the thick wooden door in the way after a few attempts. The mouldy air of the dungeons grew sharp with salt as they descended the stairs, the stone steps slick, and eventually the noise of waves sounded dull out from underneath. This was the right way.
There was a bent in the staircase after which it opened suddenly unto a cavern. As Stannis had hoped, the family’s ships were still at anchor, alongside a ragtag collection of other boats, likely kept there so the mercenaries could flee by sea if necessary.
He would build a wall of ships around them before he burned the castle down.
“We should find something small,” Davos said, craning his neck as he looked the row of ships over. “I will be able to get us out without anyone noticing.
“Where are you taking the prisoner?”
Stannis whirled around. Five men stood in the door, the last just emerging from the staircase. The noise of the waves must have masked their steps in the staircase behind them.
The mercenaries looked confused. Stannis guessed they had not seen the guard in the barrel and he had closed Davos’s cell door behind them, so perhaps they had simply come here to take a boat.
There was no point in talking. At least one of them would understand what was happening before they could spin a convincing story and neither him nor Loras were the likes of Tyrion Lannister, who could talk his neck out of a noose.
He launched himself forward, brandishing his sword in the same movement. The lack of iron on his body made him easier to hurt, but faster, too. Bodily pushing two men out of the way, he managed to bring himself between them and the open doorway. The last thing he needed was someone running up to gather reinforcements.
Thankfully, Loras, though young, had seen enough battle in the war for the throne that he reacted without an order from Stannis. His sword was in someone’s side just as Stannis stepped on the throat of one man he had pushed down on his rush. Stannis blocked a slash that came overhead with his own blade and forced the arm out of the way with a burst of strength. The pummel of a sword caught him between the shoulder blades and he stumbled forward, but Loras shouldered into the mercenary who had attacked him from behind and Stannis threw another to the ground, stabbing downwards. With a glance over his shoulder, he made sure that Loras had the upper hand before he ducked under the axe the last man standing was swinging at him and grabbed him by the throat, throwing him to the ground. A strike of Stannis’s sword cut his scream short. A body spurting blood fell next to him, Loras giving a wordless shout of exuberance.
“Over here!”
Breathing hard into the scarf over his mouth, Stannis looked over his shoulder. Davos had not tarried while they fought, but found a small boat and already loosened the rope around the wooden pole, holding it tight in his hand.
Loras and Stannis hurried towards him and climbed in. Stannis held out his arm and grabbed Davos off the footbridge, tugging him over the railing, too.
Davos pushed them off into open water with the oar that laid sideways across the benches, steering them away from the other boats. Tearing the scarf from his mouth, Stannis took a deep breath, watching Davos move nimbly towards the sail. They had spent much longer apart over the many years of their acquaintance, but this time, every day had felt like a year, not knowing how Davos was, if he even still breathed or if the mercenaries were just stringing him along and had killed Davos weeks ago. As he closely watched his hands work with the same deft practice he had always admired, he could not but notice that Davos was mostly relying on his right.
“Your left – is it alright?”
“Just sprained. Were you two hurt? That fight was gruesome.”
“I’m fine,” Loras said, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his long, brown hair, which somehow looked perfect even falling out from under the old leather cap it had been pressed down by for hours. He was a handsome man and Stannis was not surprised that his brother had fallen for him, but his eyes were drawn quickly back to Davos’s face. Smeared with dirt and blood and his hair and beard matted, he was still the only man Stannis wanted to look at.
“Me too,” Stannis said.
As they slid out onto the dark sea, the moon painting faint light on the waves, Davos stretched to adjust the sail to the stronger wind and Stannis followed the movement of his left hand to make sure he was not hiding a greater wound to calm Stannis’s mind.
“Onion Knight – your belly is too big for someone who looks as starved as you do.”
The relief that had spread through Stannis as they left the castle walls behind was wiped away in a moment. He dropped his eyes to where Davos’s shirt was riding up, revealing the unmistakeable curve of his belly.
“Did these men...”
“No. Don’t worry,” Davos said quickly. “When it became clear I was pregnant, they made sure not to kick my stomach, either. I’m sure they were delighted to have another hostage.” He grabbed his tunic and pulled it up under his chest. It had been hidden well by the stiff, wide fabric, but like this, the fact that he was pregnant was obvious. “See, I’m much further. I’m surprised they haven’t threatened you with it yet. I guess I get to tell you myself! But this is not how I had hoped to do it.”
“I’m sure they were keeping it up their sleeve for the right moment, like a weighed dice,” Stannis said darkly.
“You do look bigger than what anyone could have achieved in two months’ time,” Loras agreed, glancing furtively at Stannis. “Or four months, my King.”
Four months ago was when they had married and Loras was right about that, too. Stannis would guess that even with Davos’s form so shrunken, making his belly look bigger, that the child only had two or three months left before coming into the world. Stannis could only marvel at him, not even finding the words to respond to Loras’s mocking.
Luckily, Davos tended to be of quicker tongue in these moments. Still holding on to a rope, he lowered himself on the bench next to Stannis.
“Are you and Lord Renly waiting for the blessing of the Seven?” Davos asked. “I suppose that makes sense for such high lords as yourselves.” It did not sound like Davos believed it in any way. “I would have found it strange to insist on my honour considering I have seven bastards, though.”
Loras just chuckled and brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, glancing at Stannis.
“Well, we saved your husband and your heir, your Highness. Renly will be even angrier that he missed this now. They will sing songs about this night.”
“Let’s make it back to King’s Landing first before we talk of bards,” Stannis said, placing his hand on Davos’s back, unable not to glance down at Davos’s middle.
Through his beard, Davos smiled at him.
“Still, let me already thank you both.”
Despite the fact that Davos seemed joyful, Stannis could not take praise without a frown. To see Davos crumpled in the corner of a cell had been bad enough, to know he’d carried a child under his heart simply made it worse. He’d let his husband suffer for too long.
-
“Did the maester visit you yet?”
Stannis looked Davos over, noting his washed and combed hair and fresh clothes. He wished he could have stood outside his door and guarded it like a hound, but he’d forced himself to report to the council instead and sent forth a message to the waiting army and ships that would level the mercenary’s castle in the early hours of the morning. Now that their hostage had been removed, an advantage they’d only had through happenstance and a few traitors working at the shipyard where Davos oversaw the rebuilding of the fleet, they were only a disparate group of sellswords and Stannis doubted that they would hold the castle for long. In fact, by the time his lords could get the knights to move in, most of them would probably be running and there was little to be done about that. Stannis misliked it, but seeing Davos smile at him, it was not the first concern on his mind.
“Yes. Maester Cressen came himself, despite all the stairs.” Davos lifted his bandaged hand. “I think he knew that I would prefer him to Maester Pycelle.”
“What did he say about your wounds? About the babe?”
Stannis stood by Davos’s chair, unable as ever to reach out to his lover with the ease many husbands displayed. Davos had never begrudged him this weakness, thankfully, and he looked content for him to simply be close.
“A few sprains, a couple of bruises,” Davos said, gently wiping the concern away with his good hand, in which he was holding an old, sharpened knife. “I will be fine and our child also. It moves just like I would expect.”
Stannis allowed the words to calm him, since even outside Cressen’s opinion, Davos had quite a bit of experience with pregnancies; his bastard sons had been the first to greet him when Stannis returned him to the castle, little Stanny in front. After their marriage, Davos had joked that it was a shame he had already called a child after Stannis and another after his father, considering they were now trying for an heir, and Stannis had thought he could only hope his child by blood took to him like Davos’s other sons had.
It was strange – Stannis had known their heir was likely to come sooner rather than later, considering how fertile Davos had proven throughout his life, and yet he still hadn’t managed to shake his surprise yet.
“Good. But you should rest nevertheless,” he said.
“I will, but I need to get rid of this beard first.”
Davos could have just called a servant, but that, too, was among the things that he seemed unable to get used to. However, Stannis was grateful for it in that moment because it gave him an excuse to come closer.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“From dressing up as a mercenary to shaving your husband... you have taken on odd jobs for a king today, Stannis.”
In private, Davos called him by his first name and Stannis felt the tension in his shoulders easing. He wetted the knife and put it to Davos’s cheek, cupping his chin to hold it still.
“I apologise that it took me so long to get you. I tried to negotiate to free you safely, but we only ran into dead ends. In truth, we just did not have the ridiculous amount of gold they wanted, since the Lannisters are barely in support of me, but they would not budge.”
“There’s no need for this. You saved me like a hero out of legends,” Davos said with a smile. “Besides, I never thought you would leave me to rot. It’s not in your nature.”
“They don’t take months in the legends.”
The long, tangled beard fell away before Stannis’s knife, uncovering the angles of Davos’s face, made sharper by a lack of food. He would make sure that Davos ate supper before bed.
“And I’m sure they’ll omit that in the songs about your heroics, too. That’s the way it goes with stories. I doubt the heroes of old went straight for daring subterfuge or all-out war instead of trying to ensure an exchange. Don’t you think I knew you must be speaking to them? I was just hoping our child would not be born in captivity and taken from me, that was all, but I had faith you would think of something eventually. I was lucky I had that to hold on to.”
Stannis made a thoughtful noise. Davos sounded honest and that made it easier to bear, thinking that he had not sat in darkness wondering if he had been abandoned for a more prestigious husband.
He lowered the knife and Davos grabbed a wet cloth to wipe his face. He smiled as he rose and put his arms around Stannis’s neck again and pulled himself up to kiss him. Despite the lingering guilt, Stannis put his arms around him and that chased away the clouds in his head as it so often did. When Davos led Stannis’s hand to his stomach, he even allowed himself to feel the excitement that came coursing through him when he touched it.
They stood like this for a long moment. Davos leaned into his arm, his head against Stannis’s shoulder. He was not usually someone to cling on for no reason, but Stannis could imagine the reason for the change. Stannis, who did not want to move from his side, either, was happy for it.
“You were quite adept at stealth. Did I teach you something over all these years?” Davos asked quietly, playfully.
Stannis shook his head.
“A sleight or two, but if it had been possible without putting you at risk, I would have stomped the castle and everyone in it into the ground. I doubt I will follow in your footsteps.”
Davos laughed.
“We’ll see. I might make a smuggler out of the king yet,” he said and kissed him again.