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linndechirTitle: His kingdom was full of darkness
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Stannis, Davos, Devan
Rating: PG
Words: 1352
Warnings: spoilers up to and including ADWD
Prompt: Stannis/Davos in the Nightfort, can be gen or UST. I prefer tragedy.
Summary: Much has changed by the time Stannis and Davos meet again in the Nightfort.
Author's note: My other![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
got_exchange fic. This one was written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alcanis_ivennil.
It was pitch-black by the time Davos arrived at the Nightfort. He was not a fearful man, but although he had been to an island of cannibals and witnessed a woman giving birth to a shadow, he felt a shudder go through his body as the icy wind howled through the ruins. The Wall against which the castle was built shielded it even from the smallest ray of moonlight. Even somewhat restored to be inhabitable again, the Nightfort was a terrifying place in the dark, more foreboding than even Skagos had been. It still looked more like a ruin than a castle, derelict towers covered in snow, cloaked in darkness – only the main tower was inhabitable at all, and King Stannis Baratheon had brought back appallingly few men from Winterfell. Already before his departure Davos had heard men mumble that it was an ill omen for the king to choose the Nightfort as his residence, and now he could understand too well why. This place made him wish he had never asked Stannis to go North at all.
On his way here he thought he'd have reason to be optimistic – Stannis had returned from Winterfell victorious after defeating the Boltons and the Freys, and Davos had brought back Rickon Stark from Skagos, giving Stannis the malleable Lord of Winterfell Stannis had once tried to find in Jon Snow. But Stannis' reply to Davos' letter from Eastwatch had been terse, indifferent almost.
Devan met him in the entry hall of the main tower, but the joy of seeing his son again well and safe was short-lived. The boy looked as uneasy as Davos felt, and he only grew more restless as they climbed the stairs up to Stannis' chambers. When asked about the king, Devan was evasive, but Davos could hear fear in his voice. Whether it was fear for or of the king, he could not say.
Despite the fire it was freezing cold in the king's chambers, though Davos was not sure if his mind was not playing tricks on him in this place. It seemed an unimportant concern when he laid eyes on his king: Stannis was standing by a large desk, bent over maps and lists, eyes narrowed in concentration even though it was already late at night.
Stannis had looked worn out after Renly's death, and even more so after his defeat on the Blackwater, but Davos still had to bite back a gasp when he saw him now. He looked more gaunt than ever, the last bit of flash seemed to have melted off his face during the exhausting campaign for Winterfell, leaving his eyes too big, too bright, too blue in his hollow face. His head looked like a skull with blue flames in empty dark sockets. The fire made his shadow dance across the wall, flickering and flaring, and it sickened Davos to think that the shadow looked more alive than the man casting it.
Knowing that Stannis would not want him to waste time on expressions of concern or questions about his well-being, Davos started to tell him about the deal he had made with Lord Manderly, about Rickon Stark, but Stannis cut him short.
Have you seen the snowfalls, Davos? Even with the greatest army in the world I could not move South to win the throne.
His voice was too loud in the eerie silence of the snow-clad castle, still every bit as strong and hard as Davos remembered. But Davos found little comfort in that, since it had been that very strength and determination that had even brought them to this place.
Melisandre was right ... that the true war lies beyond the Wall. What good is it to conquer a kingdom if it means leaving it vulnerable to a far great danger than squabbling lords?
Stannis' eyes were back on the map, strong fingers resting just beyond the thick line that marked the Wall. There was something unsettlingly quiet about him, but Davos did not know what exactly had changed since his departure from Eastwatch months ago.
When was the last time you have slept, Your Grace?
Stannis looked at him as if Davos had asked him about the last time he had danced and jousted at a feast. Devan had tried to prepare him, told him that the king barely slept, barely ate, barely saw anyone. He didn't even speak beyond curt orders, only ravens were sent back and forth between the Nightfort and Castle Black.
But Stannis had always listened to Davos, always heard him out, always taken his advice into consideration. Yet Davos did not know what to say, he had no comfort to offer when they were imprisoned by walls of snow that seemed to grow every day, when King's Landing seemed a lifetime away, when everything they learnt about their enemies beyond the Wall only made the task of defeating them seem more impossible. He is slipping away from me, Davos thought, only this time I am not losing him to the red priestess, but to himself. Stannis only stood a few feet away from him, but he could just as well have been beyond the Wall himself, cold and untouchable, deaf to every kind word Davos might have said, his mind focused on nothing but a war he could not expect to win. And because it was Stannis, he would fight it nonetheless.
Davos was too tired to object when his king dismissed him soon after his arrival. As he stepped to one of the windows and looked out onto the ruins, he felt Devan's small hand slip into his. There was little comfort in having the boy here – Davos only wished Devan could be some place safe, with his mother and brothers, anywhere but here. He did not need to ask Devan what he was thinking about, because he knew he was thinking the same. All the stories about the Nightfort, stories told by grandparents and mad old sailors, about the Night's King, a man without fear who married a cold, dead woman from beyond the Wall and sacrificed children to the Others, about the Rat Cook and the Mad Axe and King Sherrit. He had heard that the Nightfort could change any man who stayed too long inside its walls. Davos had laughed about those stories even as a boy, had called them silly and stupid, but standing here he was willing to believe every single one of them.
He wondered if some day, hundreds of years from now, people would tell stories about King Stannis who took over the Nightfort to fight the Others, and he wondered how that story would end.
As he pulled Devan close, arms wrapped around the boy – he had grown so much since Davos had last seen him – Davos realised that it did not matter. If Stannis' men and the Night's Watch could not hold the Wall, there would be no one left to tell any stories at all. If they failed, even their sacrifice would be meaningless and forgotten. Davos almost smiled. It would seem oddly fitting for a king who had never received the recognition he deserved in his lifetime either.
It was only then that he realised what had been so unsettling about Stannis' calm – it was the terrifying, mad calm of a man who had made his stand and only waited for the attack. It was the calm of a dead man who was still fighting, but who knew that the mortal blow was only a matter of time. Davos realised that, before tonight, he had never seen Stannis looking defeated.
Running his fingers through Devan's soft brown hair, Davos vowed quietly that if it truly came to that, he would not let his king die alone. He had lived by Stannis' side, he would die by Stannis' side. Yet after everything they had been through, he would do anything in his power to make sure that wouldn't happen a moment too soon.
When he heard the watchers' horns blow three times, it almost came as a relief.
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Stannis, Davos, Devan
Rating: PG
Words: 1352
Warnings: spoilers up to and including ADWD
Prompt: Stannis/Davos in the Nightfort, can be gen or UST. I prefer tragedy.
Summary: Much has changed by the time Stannis and Davos meet again in the Nightfort.
Author's note: My other
got_exchange fic. This one was written for alcanis_ivennil.It was pitch-black by the time Davos arrived at the Nightfort. He was not a fearful man, but although he had been to an island of cannibals and witnessed a woman giving birth to a shadow, he felt a shudder go through his body as the icy wind howled through the ruins. The Wall against which the castle was built shielded it even from the smallest ray of moonlight. Even somewhat restored to be inhabitable again, the Nightfort was a terrifying place in the dark, more foreboding than even Skagos had been. It still looked more like a ruin than a castle, derelict towers covered in snow, cloaked in darkness – only the main tower was inhabitable at all, and King Stannis Baratheon had brought back appallingly few men from Winterfell. Already before his departure Davos had heard men mumble that it was an ill omen for the king to choose the Nightfort as his residence, and now he could understand too well why. This place made him wish he had never asked Stannis to go North at all.
On his way here he thought he'd have reason to be optimistic – Stannis had returned from Winterfell victorious after defeating the Boltons and the Freys, and Davos had brought back Rickon Stark from Skagos, giving Stannis the malleable Lord of Winterfell Stannis had once tried to find in Jon Snow. But Stannis' reply to Davos' letter from Eastwatch had been terse, indifferent almost.
Devan met him in the entry hall of the main tower, but the joy of seeing his son again well and safe was short-lived. The boy looked as uneasy as Davos felt, and he only grew more restless as they climbed the stairs up to Stannis' chambers. When asked about the king, Devan was evasive, but Davos could hear fear in his voice. Whether it was fear for or of the king, he could not say.
Despite the fire it was freezing cold in the king's chambers, though Davos was not sure if his mind was not playing tricks on him in this place. It seemed an unimportant concern when he laid eyes on his king: Stannis was standing by a large desk, bent over maps and lists, eyes narrowed in concentration even though it was already late at night.
Stannis had looked worn out after Renly's death, and even more so after his defeat on the Blackwater, but Davos still had to bite back a gasp when he saw him now. He looked more gaunt than ever, the last bit of flash seemed to have melted off his face during the exhausting campaign for Winterfell, leaving his eyes too big, too bright, too blue in his hollow face. His head looked like a skull with blue flames in empty dark sockets. The fire made his shadow dance across the wall, flickering and flaring, and it sickened Davos to think that the shadow looked more alive than the man casting it.
Knowing that Stannis would not want him to waste time on expressions of concern or questions about his well-being, Davos started to tell him about the deal he had made with Lord Manderly, about Rickon Stark, but Stannis cut him short.
Have you seen the snowfalls, Davos? Even with the greatest army in the world I could not move South to win the throne.
His voice was too loud in the eerie silence of the snow-clad castle, still every bit as strong and hard as Davos remembered. But Davos found little comfort in that, since it had been that very strength and determination that had even brought them to this place.
Melisandre was right ... that the true war lies beyond the Wall. What good is it to conquer a kingdom if it means leaving it vulnerable to a far great danger than squabbling lords?
Stannis' eyes were back on the map, strong fingers resting just beyond the thick line that marked the Wall. There was something unsettlingly quiet about him, but Davos did not know what exactly had changed since his departure from Eastwatch months ago.
When was the last time you have slept, Your Grace?
Stannis looked at him as if Davos had asked him about the last time he had danced and jousted at a feast. Devan had tried to prepare him, told him that the king barely slept, barely ate, barely saw anyone. He didn't even speak beyond curt orders, only ravens were sent back and forth between the Nightfort and Castle Black.
But Stannis had always listened to Davos, always heard him out, always taken his advice into consideration. Yet Davos did not know what to say, he had no comfort to offer when they were imprisoned by walls of snow that seemed to grow every day, when King's Landing seemed a lifetime away, when everything they learnt about their enemies beyond the Wall only made the task of defeating them seem more impossible. He is slipping away from me, Davos thought, only this time I am not losing him to the red priestess, but to himself. Stannis only stood a few feet away from him, but he could just as well have been beyond the Wall himself, cold and untouchable, deaf to every kind word Davos might have said, his mind focused on nothing but a war he could not expect to win. And because it was Stannis, he would fight it nonetheless.
Davos was too tired to object when his king dismissed him soon after his arrival. As he stepped to one of the windows and looked out onto the ruins, he felt Devan's small hand slip into his. There was little comfort in having the boy here – Davos only wished Devan could be some place safe, with his mother and brothers, anywhere but here. He did not need to ask Devan what he was thinking about, because he knew he was thinking the same. All the stories about the Nightfort, stories told by grandparents and mad old sailors, about the Night's King, a man without fear who married a cold, dead woman from beyond the Wall and sacrificed children to the Others, about the Rat Cook and the Mad Axe and King Sherrit. He had heard that the Nightfort could change any man who stayed too long inside its walls. Davos had laughed about those stories even as a boy, had called them silly and stupid, but standing here he was willing to believe every single one of them.
He wondered if some day, hundreds of years from now, people would tell stories about King Stannis who took over the Nightfort to fight the Others, and he wondered how that story would end.
As he pulled Devan close, arms wrapped around the boy – he had grown so much since Davos had last seen him – Davos realised that it did not matter. If Stannis' men and the Night's Watch could not hold the Wall, there would be no one left to tell any stories at all. If they failed, even their sacrifice would be meaningless and forgotten. Davos almost smiled. It would seem oddly fitting for a king who had never received the recognition he deserved in his lifetime either.
It was only then that he realised what had been so unsettling about Stannis' calm – it was the terrifying, mad calm of a man who had made his stand and only waited for the attack. It was the calm of a dead man who was still fighting, but who knew that the mortal blow was only a matter of time. Davos realised that, before tonight, he had never seen Stannis looking defeated.
Running his fingers through Devan's soft brown hair, Davos vowed quietly that if it truly came to that, he would not let his king die alone. He had lived by Stannis' side, he would die by Stannis' side. Yet after everything they had been through, he would do anything in his power to make sure that wouldn't happen a moment too soon.
When he heard the watchers' horns blow three times, it almost came as a relief.
