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"Something isn't right," Stannis muttered. The Red Keep's yard bustled with activity. With all the people rushing here and there - carrying brooms, bags of flour, and barrels of ale - the guards barely noticed a lord and his knight passing through the gates.
"Looks like a lord's wedding feast," Davos commented. His keen brown eyes slid here and there, missing not a single movement.
"If they're still feasting after two days, this is obscene even by Robert's standards."
"Do you put it past him, my lord?"
"I put nothing past my brother, ser, except sobriety."
"Your brothers lack your fortitude," Davos reminded him.
"Strange, is it not?" Stannis muttered. "Some men are loved for their faults, while others are sneered at for their strength. Though by this point, that should no longer surprise me."
"And nor should that," Davos muttered, gesturing ahead with a nod.
Stannis and Davos stopped short of the entrance steps. A blinding shock of color appeared above them. There stood Lord Renly, fresh-faced and fifteen, looking as proud and resplendent as a pea-cock. He wore a heavy velvet cloak, plush purple with gold embroidery. His doublet was a brighter gold than the sun itself, and his breeches emerald green.
"Ah, my lord brother. You've arrived!"
Stannis climbed the steps with Davos close behind. "Renly. What in the seven hells is going on?"
"Lord Stannis, I'm shocked! Have you forgotten our brother the king's name day?"
"Robert's name day is two days past. If you all are wasting the crown's coin on three days of feasting, then I'm of a mind to return to Dragonstone for good."
"Please don't mention such tempting possibilities." Renly airily waved a hand, and the two arrivals followed him into the Keep. "King Robert's feast is postponed. Well, was postponed, rather. It's happening tonight. Luckily you arrived this morning, Stannis. You'll be attending with the rest of us."
"No."
Renly blinked. "Sorry, brother, but that wasn't a question. You are quite welcome as well, Ser Davos."
"Thank you, my lord," Davos duly replied.
Stannis grunted. "Ser Davos can do as he pleases, but I won't be attending. I stepped off a boat less than an hour ago. I'm hardly in the mood for revelry."
He stalked off, and Davos, as ever, followed.
"Where are you going,” Renly asked, briskly keeping pace.
"My chambers. Don't bother to make my excuses tonight - just let me be."
Renly rolled his eyes quite dramatically, but before he could summon a quip, Davos cleared his throat.
"Perhaps your brother has a point, Lord Stannis. It would look very bad if the king's brother did not attend this event."
Stannis stopped, staring at Davos for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"Very well," he gritted. "Duty sometimes calls us to suffer absurdities."
"Thank the gods," Renly muttered with relief.
"Don't thank any gods," Stannis told him. "Thank Ser Davos, for making me see reason." With that, he stepped up to a large set of doors and entered his chambers, and the other two trailed in behind him.
"Yes, yes," said Renly dismissively. "Well, I'll send Fellius up in about an hour."
"Fellius?"
"My personal grooming man. You can't expect to attend a feast like that. Your men haven't arrived yet, have they?"
"The other ship was delayed, so no, my men won't arrive until evening. This may shock you, Renly, but I can shave and dress myself if need be."
Renly snorted. "In this case, I'm afraid you can't. Have you looked at yourself? You look like something dragged out of Flea Bottom."
A vein pulsed in Stannis's temple, but Davos simply raised his brow.
"I'll take care of it, Lord Renly. I'm quite used to dealing with things dragged out of –"
"I'll have Ser Davos or no one," Stannis interrupted, giving the knight a warning glance.
"Will you," Renly said lightly, looking Davos up and down.
"I will. And I will have your men nowhere near me."
"I don't think they'll object. You do have such odd taste in men - both of you." Renly lifted his eyebrows knowingly.
Stannis growled. "Just what do you -"
"I will see you both tonight!" Renly chirped, slipping quickly through the door.
"That idiot. That idiotic child. It pains me, Davos, to see what Renly's become."
Stannis did look pained. His broad jaw clenched so tightly that it was a wonder his teeth didn't break. His deep blue eyes smoldered, threatening to burn a hole through the wood doors.
Davos frowned. "He is young, my lord, but no longer a child."
"More's the pity." When Stannis looked at Davos, his anger faltered for a moment, and Davos cleared his throat.
"If you'll excuse me, my lord, I'll fetch water for your bath."
"Never mind that. Bring enough for the grooming, and send a servant to do the rest."
Davos nodded and left the room. His slim body slipped quietly through the doors, as quickly and silently as a black ship through night. Stannis stared, frowning, at the place where his Onion Knight had stood only moments before. His brother's words chafed him. To imply such things about Ser Davos was shameful, unthinkable. Davos would never prefer a man in that way. He was an honorable man, and happily married.
As for himself.... Sometimes Stannis wondered if any woman alive could make him happy. Women were beguiling creatures, and he didn't trust them. Men were supposed to fall under their spells, and when a woman failed to snare one, she thought him cold, uninteresting, and unfeeling. Stannis was certainly not unfeeling, as there was someone who filled him with warmth and comfort. He loved this man fully, in a way he could never love a woman.
I love him too fully, Stannis thought, and his mouth twisted.
The door opened with the slightest creak, and Ser Davos entered, carrying two pails. He grinned beneath his brown beard, and Stannis looked away.
"Here," he said brusquely, motioning Davos into the bedchamber. Stannis pulled a low-backed chair from against the wall. "Let's make this quick."
"Aye, but slow enough that I don't leave you bleeding."
Placing the pails down, Davos stepped closer to his lord. "I should remove your tunic."
Stannis swallowed, his neck twitching. "I can -"
"No, let me, my lord." He stepped even closer, reaching his hands up behind Stannis's neck. His blunt fingers brushed the lord's flesh as he untied the tunic's simple knot, and as he brought his hands down to undo the belt, they lightly, almost imperceptibly, grazed Stannis's chest. When he lifted the tunic over the other man's, a white undergarment rose with it, exposing the thin, muscled stomach beneath. Fingers grazed hipbones as Davos pulled the undergarment back into place.
“Now. If you’ll just have a seat, my lord.”
Stannis sat, his back stiff as an iron rod. He stared straight ahead, looking anywhere but at Davos bending over the pails. Then, he felt two hands take his face and pull back his head. Those hands were rough from rigging, but Davos’s touch was warm and gentle.
“Relax, my lord. Lean back.”
Stannis closed his eyes, allowing himself to trust. A damp cloth ran over his face, and then those calloused hands returned. They rubbed soap over his jaw, fingers caressing his skin in circles. Unthinking, Stannis turned his head, leaning into the shortened fingers massaging him. When the hands suddenly left, Stannis’s eyes snapped open.
The knight straightened, wiping his soapy hands on a cloth. Grabbing a shaving blade from the other pail, he turned to face his lord. He stepped closer and, to Stannis's shock, ran a thumb down the corner of his lord's mouth.
“I apologize. Too much soap, I’m afraid.”
Stannis tried to interrupt, but Davos cut him off.
“It would be best if you didn’t speak, my lord. The soap, remember?”
Once again, Davos moved behind Stannis, cradling his face in his hands. He ran the blade under Stannis's broad, stubbly jaw, and despite the knight's deftness, the shave was rough.
The spare blade needed sharpening, but Stannis could scarcely feel it. Every nerve in his body was aware of Davos's hands. His face burned beneath the cool blade, and Stannis tightened his jaw. This was too much, too close. This was Davos - his loyal, honest Davos - and with him, this chore felt obscenely intimate. Those scarred, gentle hands were driving him mad. His heart was pounding, his blood was rushing, his -
Stannis grabbed Davos's wrist. "I will finish."
His lord's bitter growl booked no argument, and dutifully, Davos pulled away. Stannis pushed himself up, grabbed the blade, and crossed to the looking-glass. His blue eyes were wide, fuming, and almost frantic. He dragged the blade with hard, angry strokes, hating himself for his shameful thoughts. In the glass, he caught Davos's gaze, and the good knight's eyes betrayed concern.
"Ach!"
A shallow cut sprang to life on Stannis's cheekbone. Before his lord could even swear, Davos pulled him around, placing the cool cloth under his eye. Stannis grabbed it away, cursing his inattention.
"You should've let me finish, my lord." Davos shook his head. "You're too uneasy."
"Why do you say that?" Stannis snapped.
Davos simply frowned, saying nothing.
"This will bleed for hours," Stannis complained, breaking the strained silence. "At least it will give my brother a good laugh for his name day."
"If he's sober enough to notice," Davos added. "But come, what's troubling you, my lord? It isn't the feast."
"You know me too well, Davos. Far too well."
"And you know that I've always given you good counsel."
"It's not counsel I need, it's - "
Davos looked expectant, but Stannis shook his head. "Never mind. I am being foolish."
"I doubt that, my lord," said Davos with a small grin. "Of all the men I've known, you're perhaps the least foolish."
Stannis studied his knight, frowning. "Leave me. You deserve a rest before the feast. I will have a serving boy fetch the water for my bath."
"If that's your wish, I'll go." Davos paused, and suddenly, he stepped forward to grasp Stannis's shoulder. Concern shone in his plain brown eyes. "But if you need anything, my lord, never hesitate."
A surge of warmth coursed through him, and Stannis clenched his teeth. Davos was being too familiar, but Stannis decided to say nothing. Instead, he placed his hand over Davos's, feeling the fingers that his own will had maimed.
Davos smiled. "And if it would please you, I'll return before evening. We can go down to the feast together."
"It would," Stannis muttered.
In place of a smile, Stannis gripped his man's hand, then let him go. He watched as the Onion Knight left, and he took comfort in knowing he'd return before long. As he reached for his tunic, Stannis absently touched his own shoulder. He had been far too lenient with himself, far too easy with his thoughts. In the future, he must be stronger. Davos's trust made him want to be a better man. He looked at the pails, the discarded blade, and the bloodied cloth in his hand. As long as Davos remained at his side, Stannis swore to be worthy of his trust.