Davos usually intended his crimes. Smuggling, stealing, pilfering, all he intended to do.

Kidnapping had come on a whim.

He had merely meant to visit briefly with the little princess, to give her the wooden stag he'd patiently carved for her during this terrible winter storm. Half her face had lit up, and when she had kissed his cheek, tickling his whiskers, he felt as proud of her as he had any of his sons. Marya had always wanted a daughter, but their lot in life seemed to be sons, seven, now three after the Blackwater. If he had a daughter though, he would have wanted it to be Shireen. Smart, kind, and always trying to help when she could.

He would have had to blind, deaf, and dumb not to see the way the red witch looked at the child, always whispering. "King's blood, the power it holds is enough to win a war." Always fire and blood with her, and it was always whispered to Stannis. Her eyes flashed with desire every time she looked at the child, and he knew flames were dancing in her eyes. He'd trusted Stannis not to give in, but his king had begun to look haggard, between the winter and the constant whispering, something in him was breaking.

Davos didn't want Shireen around when it did.

So when her bright little face turned up to his, asking if she could go to the Wall with him, he betrayed his king. "Of course! I'll even teach you to carve that doe on the way."

"Did Father say yes?"

Davos bit his tongue. "He says we must be quiet about it, that your lady mother is scared of what might happen in the storm."

"I'm sure I'll be alright with you!"

He reached down and patted her head, feeling the hardness of half her face on his shortened fingers. He helped her gather a few books, wrapping them in extra blankets and cloaks before stuffing them in saddlebags. Davos stuck his head out of the tent, making sure most of the soldiers had trundled off. The princess's guards knew that he was a favorite of hers, and must have wandered off to take a piss. So he hustled the girl onto his horse, slung the bags over, then climbed up himself. He flung his cloak over the girl, settling it over his horse's flanks so that she was almost invisible. Her voice piped out from behind, "It's just like in the books, when Ser Taren saves Lady Hallel."

Davos didn't know what story she spoke of, but instead clucked his horse up to a canter as he made his way out of camp. No soldier looked his way, most of them focused on holding off the cold that was settling down into their bones. He kept twitching his hand back, trying to pull the cloak father around the little princess.

He didn't relax until they'd put miles between the camp and themselves.