Chapter 8

Davos II

Davos lay on his back bleeding badly. The deep slice in his right bicep burned like a hundred wasp stings and his attempt to move it brought on a wave of nausea. He looked at his arm attempting to establish just how dire the situation was and his heart sank when he saw the large pool of dark brown blood in the snow.

The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly registered and he turned his head to see two soldiers striding towards him, he didn't recognise the Sigel. He closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable but instead found he was being pulled upright. Infuriatingly, one of the soldiers roughly grabbed his wounded arm and Davos swore though gritted teeth from the searing pain. A cold sweat clung to his brow and he tried desperately not to give in to the unconsciousness that beckoned then everything went black.

He came to gradually, aware that something didn't feel right. His face was warm on one side and a ripple of panic surged through him when he realised his hands were tied behind his back. His eyes shot open to a face full of horse, the side of a horse to be precise as he'd been slung over the saddle. They were at a slow canter and he strained his neck hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon or Melisandre but his view was limited. He must have fallen unconscious again because the next he knew he was lying in the dark on cold stone floor that smelt of piss and shit with his feet bound. An old man's groan escaped from his body involuntarily as he attempted to move.

"Ser Davos?"

"Jon?" he croaked.

"Aye it's me, stay still."

Jon shuffled over and tried to help him sit up but he was bound too, it would have been funny if their circumstances weren't so perilous. After a few aborted attempts they succeeded and Jon positioned himself so Davos could lean on him for support.

"Where are we?"

"In the cells at Castle Cerwyn. I told them the Bolton men attacked us first then they asked me about Longclaw, I said I would only speak with Lord Medger. If he declines they'll probably execute us, if he accepts, well, we'll see where his loyalties lie. How's your arm?"

"Not the best."

"You've lost a lot of blood" Melisandre said from somewhere in the darkness.

"Are either of you hurt?" Davos asked.

"Not yet" she said ominously.

Davos was thirsty and tried to lick his lips but didn't seem to have any saliva. "How long have we been here?"

"Half a day perhaps, you groaned a few times so we knew you were alive but…"

The dungeon door creaked open interrupting them and the occupants of the boots that clattered on the stone floor sounded like they were heading in their direction.

"Stand up" a voice said.

Davos heard keys jangling and someone holding a candle appeared so he used the dim light to look around. The cell walls and floor were solid stone and there were thick wrought iron bars on one side that opened onto a corridor. There was another cell directly opposite theirs but he couldn't see if there were any inhabitants. The guard trying to open their door was getting frustrated.

"I said STAND UP" he shouted at Davos "and hold the bloody candle still man."

"My uncle is injured" Jon said as he finally found the right key and opened the door.

"Shut your mouth" the guard said and punched Jon square in the jaw, knocking him off his feet.

Davos was still on his knees; he'd have to make an attempt at standing soon but couldn't muster any strength. A second guard entered and drew a knife, fear gripped Davos but instead of feeling cold steel the rope around his ankles was cut. He managed to get up by himself but they had to haul Jon up off the floor. They shuffled along the corridor to the dungeon door which opened onto some narrow stone steps. The guard with the candle led but Davos found himself fifth in line so not only was it too dark to see, he had to use the wall as support to get up the steps, he was weak, too weak to fight.

When they reached the top the guard unlocked a second door and a cold blast of wind whipped past him, firing his senses. He found himself outside in a high walled area and they were led diagonally towards some large, thick, wooden gates, he assumed the entrance to the inner ward as they were already inside the castle. On the other side was a large courtyard filled with people going about their business, a blacksmith, a stable hand, normal castle life. They were handed over to an escort of ten soldiers who marched them across the courtyard to a large wooden door. There were no nooses so it appeared they weren't going to be executed just yet. The door opened and a young man walked towards them, Davos looked at Jon who had his head slightly cocked to one side and was that a slight quizzical expression? It was hard to tell with Jon.

"Which of them had the sword?" he heard him ask.

"That one my Lord." The young man strode over.

"Lord Cley?" Jon asked quietly.

He appeared taken aback but then his expression changed and he walked closer to Jon, they were practically nose to nose when he stopped. There was a lot of tension in the air, Davos held his breath.

"Give them water to drink, have them wash and bring them to my solar, keep them under guard at all times" he ordered and left.

Even if it was only a short stay of execution it was a welcome one. Davos exhaled a little too loudly which drew a stare from a soldier so he dipped his head and kept his eyes down. Their party was separated when they entered the Keep, much to Davos' annoyance and he was taken to a small room where the binds around his wrists were finally cut. He was handed a cup of water, he couldn't drink it quickly enough and then a bucket arrived along with a clean vest and breeches.

"Hurry up and wash" his guard said.

"Can I have another drink?" Davos asked.

"No. Hurry up."

He managed to undress despite the pain and washed his wound first, the cut was almost to the bone and it turned his stomach, he'd always been a bit squeamish but hid it well. It was still bleeding albeit very slowly as the blood had caked around the wound, he tried not to disturb it.

"Can you cut my old vest for me, we need a bandage or I'll bleed everywhere."

The guard was about to protest but hesitated then relented seeing the logic of it. Once dressed Davos was escorted to Lord Cley's solar by two soldiers. Melisandre was already there and Jon joined them soon after but they had no chance to talk as one of the soldiers remained in the room, his sword drawn. Jon gave Davos a look, this one he could read. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and Lord Cley walked in, he didn't invite them to sit.

"Your name?" he asked Jon brusquely.

"I'm Jon Snow, son of Eddard…"

"Stark" Lord Cley finished for him. "What are you doing here Lord Commander? Why aren't you at the Wall?"

"I was released from my vows to the Night's Watch and I'm travelling south."

"Released from your vows?" He looked at Jon suspiciously. "Who are your companions?"

"Ser Davos Seaworth, former Hand to Stannis Baratheon and Lady Melisandre of Asshai. Where is your Lord father?"

Lord Cley paused. "Ramsay Bolton flayed him alive along with my mother and uncle when we refused to pay taxes. It's just me and my sister now."

Davos was horrified. "I'm so sorry my Lord," Jon said respectfully "I'm in a similar position with my sister, Lady Sansa. She was Ramsay's prisoner but thankfully escaped and found me. She was not treated well."

Lord Cley stood, walked towards the door and disappeared, returning a few moments later with a wooden tray that he placed on the desk.

"Please" he said inviting them to eat, it was salt and bread, guest right. Davos thanked the Gods, which he seemed to be doing a lot of recently despite being a non-believer.

"Thank you Lord Cley" Jon said with a courteous nod. They were each given a goblet of wine and invited to sit.

"It's not very good I'm afraid" he said to Jon with a small smile.

"We're most grateful for your hospitality and its certain to be better than anything I've had recently" Jon said.

"I almost didn't recognise you Jon, it's been a long time."

"My brother's 15th name day I believe."

"Gods it was wasn't it, we all went hunting in the Wolfswood and came home with enough meat to feed the whole of Winterfell. Those were good days."

"Aye, they were." Jon said with a hint of melancholy.

"Lady Sansa is safe?"

"She is now."

"You said you were going south?"

"Aye, we're trying to understand who might support my sister and I and what options we have."

"I assume your intention is to take Winterfell and restore House Stark to power?"

"It is."

"Forgive me Jon but you're a Snow and Lady Sansa is a Bolton by marriage, neither of you are Starks."

"Tis true my Lord but our brother Rickon is and Ramsay is holding him hostage at Winterfell. He sent a letter to me at Castle Black with some colourful descriptions of what would happen if we didn't obey his demands, which included returning my sister to him."

"Are you sure it's Lord Rickon?"

"Lady Sansa believes so. It would seem that he's either been in hiding and was discovered, or, was given up."

"So the rumours are true" Lord Cley said quietly to himself.

"Rumours my Lord?"

"That Rickon Stark was being hidden in the North. I don't know by whom, just that it wasn't House Reed. They've been a great support since the murder of my family. Our taxes were raised significantly and we refused to pay both out of principal and loyalty but suffered the consequences. We've received aid from the Reed's ever since. House Cerwyn has always been loyal to House Stark and will remain so but there isn't much we can offer and with our proximity to Winterfell, we're in a precarious position. How many soldiers do you have?"

"At the moment around 2,000, 1,800 arrows, 200 swords."

"From what Houses?" Jon hesitated.

Davos was good at reading situations and usually knew what to say, his smuggling days had taught him well.

"My Lord, during my stay at Castle Black with Stannis Baratheon I learnt a great deal about the threat beyond the Wall. All the wildling tribes had joined forces, they numbered 100,000 and were attacking the Night's Watch because they were desperate to get south. Jon's predecessor, Lord Commander Mormont, wanted to know why and there's no easy way to say this my Lord but the old stories of the long night and the white walkers are not stories, every person that dies north of the Wall rises again. When Jon became Lord Commander he knew he had to get everyone south but whilst evacuating the wildlings they were attacked by the army of the dead, many were lost but Jon still managed to save 5,000 people and there are many still out there fighting for their lives. Stannis Baratheon understood, as I did and where his attack on Winterfell failed ours must succeed, House Stark can unite the North, the Bolton's can't. The 2,000 fighters we have are wildlings my Lord. They fight for Jon and when the times comes, they've pledged to fight the dead alongside us all. I'm a southerner my Lord, Stannis is dead so I should be on my way home to my wife and children but instead I'm here with Jon because he's fought and killed them and he's a man who's not afraid to do what needs to be done to protect the North."

Lord Cley was ashen, Davos was drained, blood seeping through his vest. The speech had taken everything he had and he hoped it would be enough.

"That's how I came to be in possession of Longclaw" Jon added. "Lord Commander Mormont insisted on giving it to me when I saved him from a whyte, one of our own men that had been killed by the dead and rose again. It's his family's ancestral sword and I've used it to kill many a whyte since, as well as a white walker."

Lord Cley sat there thinking, rubbing his fingers on his chin as he stared at the floor, they waited for him to speak.

"You'll stay here tonight, under false names. I trust my sister, Lieutenant Wych here and a select few others but there are Bolton spies everywhere so we must be careful. We'll say you were a friend of my father's Ser Davos."

"We already have false names and a story my Lord" Davos said.

"Good. It'll be dark soon, we'll meet again for supper in the small dining room as we have much to discuss, my sister will join us. I'll send a rider to House Reed to let them know you're here and a raven to Lord Bolton saying that his men were killed by outlaws whom we've hung. The Maester will see to your wound Ser Davos."

"My Lord, there's one remaining Bolton soldier" Lieutenant Wych reminded him.

"Sadly there isn't" he replied, his meaning clear. "I'll have someone organise rooms for you."

"We'll need only two as Ser Davos and Lady Melisandre are travelling as man and wife, I'm his nephew."

"Very well, we'll get you better clothing and you'll have time to bathe properly before supper."

Davos' stomach dropped at the thought of sharing a room with Melisandre. Their strange relationship was about to get stranger.

Lord Cley stood, signalling the meeting was over and asked them to wait with his Lieutenant. Davos felt the need to put his hand on Jon's shoulder, he'd done well, he must've been nervous, Davos certainly had been. He realised that somewhere along the way Jon had become his surrogate son. Perhaps it was because he'd spent so long away from his own, he'd had seven sons but had lost four, his oldest at Blackwater and he hadn't seen them or his wife for nearly five years. He suddenly felt old, lonely and so very, very, tired. He both missed his family but didn't know how he could go back to the simple life after all that he'd seen and all that he knew. They probably thought he was dead.

There was a knock at the solar door and the Maester entered spotting the bloodied vest immediately. "Lord Cley asked me to treat your wounds, please come with me."

Davos nodded and followed him out of the solar into main hall where a huge roaring fire dominated the sparse room. Davos hadn't been in many castles and if he was honest he didn't like them very much, they always seemed cold and a northern one in winter even more so. He would always be a southerner at heart but had been gaining a whole new respect for the north, it was wild, living was hard and ruling it even more so. He could understand why the northerners didn't like being under the yolk of the south, how could they really understand what it was like here.

The Maester sat Davos down in his chambers and went to work silently, Davos distracted himself from the pain by fantasising about a hot bath, a hot meal and a soft, warm bed. He knew he should be grateful that they were still alive and guests of a House loyal to the Starks but his spirits were low.

"That should do it, it should heal well but you must rest it. Wait here and I'll see if your room is ready."

"Thank you kindly good sir."

The Maester soon returned and bid Davos follow him. The bed chamber was basic but had a large wooden bed that definitely looked soft and there was a small plate of cheese and bread and a jug of ale on a small table.

"There's hot water in the bath already and if you need anything, there'll be a guard just outside the door."

It was a dream come true and Davos couldn't decide what he wanted to do first, eat or bathe. He felt a small burst of glee when he realised he could do both so he stripped off, cut himself a piece of cheese, placed it on a slice of bread and stepped into the bath. The water was so hot he had to do it slowly so that his body adjusted, he could've added some cold water from the pale on the floor but couldn't be bothered. The heat soothed his old bones and the bread and cheese were delicious, he chuckled as he reflected on how it's often the simple things in life that cheer you up. He stuffed the last and very large mouthful of bread and cheese into his mouth and started washing himself when the chamber door opened.

"Ser Davos?"

Gods it was Melisandre, he'd forgot and tried to call out with a mouthful of bread and nearly choked himself getting out a strange coughing mumble that sounded like someone was being strangled.

"Are you alright Ser Davos?"

He was trying to chew quickly so he could answer but it was too late, she'd opened the washroom door.

"Eating" he managed to say half spitting remnants of bread into the bath water then he finally swallowed the last mouthful. "Also washing, could you close the door please?"

"Do you want me to bring you your clothes?"

He'd forgot he was sharing a room with her and to take his clothes with him. He could've kicked himself.

"I'd be grateful" he tried to disguise his embarrassment with politeness.

She nodded, retrieved his clothes and placed them on the floor just inside the washroom door. While he finished bathing he talked himself through their predicament. She'd have the bed so no soft sheets for him dreams don't come true after all he supposed, he would ask for some additional blankets and fashion a bed on the floor. They were all tired, him especially so he would simply say goodnight and go to sleep and that would be that, easy.

When he walked back into the room he found her laying on the bed with her eyes shut, he quietly asked the guard for hot water for 'his wife' and more blankets. He suddenly felt bad about bathing first. As he walked back towards the bed she opened her eyes.

"I've asked for some more hot water so you can bathe, oh, not that you smell or anything, I just thought you'd want to, sorry for going first." You're an idiot you know he berated himself.

"That's alright Ser Davos, you're injured. I've asked for some milk of the poppy, it will help you sleep."

"I've asked for some more blankets so I can sleep on the floor, you take the bed."

"It's not necessary Ser Davos, I don't find you attractive so you are…safe" she said the last word with a smile. He'd always thought of himself as a bit of a handsome devil in a rough, common sort of way but pretended he wasn't put out by her comment.

"I'd feel more comfortable."

"As you wish."

There was a knock at the door, the hot water had arrived so he lay on the bed and rested whilst she bathed. He would have slept if it weren't for the pain. He didn't like taking milk of the poppy but he would tonight, she was right, he needed sleep.

Dinner was a subdued affair, well except for Lady Cley not being able to take her eyes of Jon. He was a looker that was for sure and if he wasn't a bastard Davos had no doubt he'd have every eligible Lady in the seven kingdoms after him and probably some of the ineligible ones as well. Most of the conversation focused on how more men were needed, avoiding the subject of the white walkers altogether. House Cerwyn had lost many in the war he learnt, at the Twins mostly and they said they could only offer 250 swords, it was better than a kick in teeth though. They also discussed the larger northern houses and Lord Cley pointed out that the Umber's had been besieged by wildling raids and Jon's brother had taken Lord Karstarks head so they were best avoided. He could tell that really stung Jon but the lad took it on the chin. House Manderley was the largest remaining house so they needed to find out where their loyalties lay.

"I'll go," said Melisandre "I'll ask to see their Lord saying that I'm a Red Priestess and have seen visions of the Starks in the fires."

"Lord Wyman might think you're a spy for the Bolton's" Jon said.

"Then I will tell him I've seen Jon Snow and Sansa Stark at House Reed, if he's loyal to the Bolton's he may tell them but if he's loyal to the Starks he will message Lord Reed, do you not agree?"

"That's a bit dangerous to say the least." Davos was concerned.

"Yes but we need more men. We cannot risk Jon being captured and you are injured."

"You understand we can't give you an escort?" Lord Cley added.

"It will be easier if I go alone. I'll leave in the morning."

Davos wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea but it was the safest option. They went to their warm chambers with full stomachs, a true luxury these days. He'd already made up a bed of blankets on the floor and the fire was roaring. Melisandre poured him a small amount of milk of the poppy, he wondered for a brief moment if it was poison, she'd done it before, but then dismissed it as she seemed to be trying to help so he drank it and settled down for the night. He felt drowsy almost immediately and told himself he'd say his goodbye's to Melisandre in the morning. By the time he woke up, she was gone.