A Song of Grace & Fury

(A/N: Discharged, finally. Last time I was inside this long, I almost had a panic attack. Outdoors > Indoors. With the time it took to write this, we should be able to return to regular updates.

Also, why the fuck is there so much TL? Nearly everything is TL now.)

Davos Seaworth stood in a quiet corner of the Round Hall, listening to the Storm Lords bicker amongst themselves over the war for the throne.

It had become routine now.

They would convene, they would argue and bicker, perhaps even come to blows, then they would forget themselves and King Stannis would shut them down, in that storm-like way of his.

And as many times before, Davos would listen to it all, and speak only when asked to. The Storm Lords, with their proud and ancient and majestic and whatnot lineages, would never treat him as equal. He knew this. He had been a notorious smuggler before he aided King Stannis all those years ago when House Tyrell had besieged Storm's End during the late King Robert's rebellion.

Mace Tyrell had feasted openly beyond the walls while Stannis and his men starved inside, for the better part of a year.

Stannis had raised him to a Lord for smuggling in onions, given him land to rule and a legacy to leave behind.

Davos groped the leather glove on his left hand as he recalled Stannis' judgement for his past crimes. He had found it fair then, he believed it fair even now.

"We must press our advantage, Your Grace! Surely, you understand this?" Monford Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, dropped his fists on the round table between them. "You need not be reminded of what happened when last the Reach marched on the Stormlands."

The Lord of Driftmark was no stormlander, but he had declared for Stannis, and his fleet was among the largests in the realm. Losing his support would cripple them.

Still, stormy eyes fell on the ambitious lord, bitter from wounds suffered long ago. "You forget yourself."

"It will happen again." Alester Florent said solemnly. He was the King's uncle-by-marriage but had declared for Renly, and only joined Stannis when the former had died. But, Davos found himself believing the words of the tall and slender lord of Brightwater Keep. "They have the numbers."

That was true. Davos nodded from his corner. They didn't have a quarter of the swords fielded by the Tyrells and the Lannisters.

"My lords." Melisandre interceded, her words like a spell. The Storm Lords quieted down, their eyes glazed over, and while some were defiant, they bowed their heads when she spoke. She spoke with the sort of religious fervency he expected of a fanatic. "King Stannis is the champion of the Lord of Light. And our Lord has gifted him appropriately."

They all knew what she meant. Storm's End was housing another guest, one who seemed not even the little bit interested in their bickering.

For some reason, Davos couldn't help but think the woman had lost her mind.

"He will destroy his enemies. No matter their number."

Fortunately, his King saw sense. Stannis scoffed at the red woman. "Try and give that thing an order. He can sink the land. He knows this well."

A few of the Lords had tried to curry favour. Davos had seen it on occasion. Even the aged Lord Alester Florent, whose hair was greyed by time and eyes were clouded by the ramblings of the sorceress, had tried it.

All of them were answered with laughter or complete disinterest in their false courtesies.

"You must have faith, Your Grace," Melisandre offered. "When the time comes for war, your enemies will wilt away before the light of the Lord."

Stannis closed his eyes and grit his teeth. "I'll not stake the fate of the realm on some rambling."

It was a fruitless effort, attempting to change Stannis' mind once it was set. Most had been forced to learn this by now. Davos surely had. But, when Stannis' stormy eyes moved to him, he spoke up all the same.

"If I may, Your Grace," Davos said, "We have the ships. Why not move to the Riverlands. We can join forces with Robb Stark and march on King's Landing."

He didn't know whether the North would follow through on their word. Rumours and tales had made him hopeful. But he knew they often tended to be just that. Rumours and tales. In simpler words, a crock of horseshit.

The hall rumbled in agreement. It would be better than waiting to be attacked.

Salladhor Saan stroked his white chin and flashed Davos a small smile. "A sound suggestion. One I am more than happy to accommodate. So long as we do not end up as dinner for the fish." The self-styled Prince of the Narrow Sea, was from a long line of Pirate Lords and he certainly dressed for it.

The thin man wore a wine coloured tunic, with high boots of white leather inlaid with silver scroll work. A jaunty green cap rested atop his head, decorated with the bright feathers from a peacock. It seemed to mirror the colour of his wilful eyes.

But then again, the Lyseni's flamboyance was no secret on either side of the Narrow Sea.

"I'm sure you can understand my fears are well-founded." Salladhor grinned at Stannis.

Davos pursed his lips.

It was no secret that the King had lost his parents to a terrible storm in the bay lying just beyond the castle.

After that, the council devolved into the same bickering as before. Nothing of import was discussed, as one proposal was rejected after the other by one lord or another, until Stannis dismissed them altogether.

It was a strange habit.

Stannis was not an indecisive man.

But then, what was he waiting for?

Davos mused as he treaded across the grim corridors of Round Keep, greeting the occasional soldier or servant. Truthfully, he preferred the open seas to the stone labyrinths the lords seemed so fond of.

Soon enough, he was outside the keep and staring at the grey curtain walls surrounding it. The sky was a calm grey, but the air was wet and smelled of sea. Once he climbed the stairs up the gatehouse, Davos spotted dark clouds raging in the storms.

"Looks to be a storm."

"Aye." A nearby soldier answered gruffly. His mailed helm made it hard to make out his face, but Davos was used to that now. Men waged war, and killed other men without so much as getting a look at them. It was the way of the world. "A nasty one, seems like."

Davos smiled thinly. "As if we get anything else in this awful place."

The soldier paused a moment, then let out a rough laugh. "You're right. Guess they don't call it Storm's End for nothing."

Davos' thoughts wandered to the words of Cortnay Penrose, the castellan who had refused Stannis entry to his own home and paid for it with his life.

He had called the ancestral seat of House Baratheon the place where storms met their end.

And these days, it felt as if all the storms of the realm had decided to test those words.

His thoughts were abruptly halted by sudden movement from the soldier beside him. He leaned on his pike and peered out into the distance, then turned around and shouted. "Rider on the horizon! He's back!"

Davos knew who they spoke of.

Karl.

That was the name they'd been given. It was the name of a man, but he was certain that whatever was using it was the farthest thing from one.

Karl had become a guest of Storm's End after delivering a letter for Robb Stark. For the past few weeks, the odd messenger had become a regular sight for most of them. He would ride out at dawn, and while the Stormlands shared the temper of the Lord that ruled them, it didn't even hinder him.

He would return a small time before sunset, retreat to one of a select few places. Namely the sheer wall dropping into the bay, what remained of the castle's godswood, or a small hill by the castle, and draw in the small book he kept in his satchel.

He entertained most inquiries happily, but seemed to possess little interest in beating around the bush. Then, he would eat, or converse with the Princess Shireen and the few other children in the castle.

It almost seemed as if he was a man but... He rode on a beast that scarce resembled a horse. It was larger than a bear, and had grey scales that shifted and grinded against one another like stone. 

Davos had seen many strange things in his life, but this outdid them all by leagues.

Like the day before, Karl stopped at the foot of the gate before dismounting the great beast. He slapped it on the hind and the beast ran away. Then, he looked at the soldiers and waved a hand in greeting as they rushed to open the doors for him.

As any man with a lick of sense would, Davos tried to steer clear of him and met the strange being only in passing. He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did but, Davos took a deep breath and strode over to Karl.

He peered over, crimson eyes flecked with gold flickering with interest. "What's up?"

Davos was taken aback by the casual words. He cleared his throat as he gathered his thoughts again. He had no idea how to converse with the 'thing'.

Truth be told, Davos felt like a child.

That made little sense when his own hair was greying rapidly while the latter's was a blonde so fair it seemed white.

But then, what he'd seen when Stannis questioned Karl made no sense either.

"Greetings," In the end, he put his arms to his side, and bowed his head halfway. "L...Lord."

Upsetting the man before him could spell injury for his liege.

To his surprise, Karl chuckled and waved his hand. "None of that. Karl's fine, man. How can I help you?"

He started walking, and Davos followed behind like a bashful maid. They went out the gates, along the side of the dreary walls of Storm's End till they were upon a sheer cliff, falling into a raging dark sea with tall waves that seemed to reach out. Karl stopped when much of Storm's End had disappeared into the mist that came rolling in with the sunset and Davos heaved a relieved sigh when he finally plopped down, dangling his legs off the edge.

"I... I fear I don't have the vigour for this walk." Davos admitted, breathing haggardly.

"Eh. It does you well. Don't let those young ones tell you otherwise." Karl let out a slight laugh and looked up at the sky. "Even when you get old. I've seen old men stronger than lads all my life."

"Maybe so."

Davos struggled to talk. It didn't come naturally when one had to constantly wonder if the littlest thing could offend the other party.

"Relax," Karl cut into the silence. "Nothing you say could possibly upset me. Unless you talk shit about my friends. But then again, what kind of man would stay silent when someone does that."

Sighing, he sat down just behind the 'man', certain that he could not handle the fall off the edge. Davos resolved himself, and decided to speak freely. "You took longer to return today. The Princess was quite disappointed."

"Ah well..." Karl mumbled, drawing into his book as he always did. "I came across this guy and his daughter set on by some mountain clan or bandits or whatever. You lot have one fucked up world. They were gonna make him watch."

Davos bit his lip. It was a story one could find anywhere if they bothered to look.

"I made them spill the beans about their camp and took a little detour." Karl flashed him a brief grin.

Silence overtook the air once again, disrupted only by the distant roar of thunder.

"Wha... What have you got there?" Davos prodded awkwardly.

Karl looked at him, and then at the book in his own hands before a smile formed on his face. He held the book out to Davos. "I'm making a detailed map... of sorts. I guess? It's an old habit from my wanderer days," He flipped the pages back to a page filled with strange writing. "There's also little tidbits from the places I've seen."

Unfortunately, Davos couldn't read.

"You've been travelling around the Stormlands?"

"Yep. Saw this place called Cape Wrath today. Interestingly, seems there's a House called Seaworth over there," Karl pushed aside strands of hairs from his eyes with a finger.

Davos scratched the back of his head. "I hope they didn't do anything unbecoming."

His wife, Marya, was watching two of his youngest along with their lands from their keep.

"Nah. They were pretty nice. I hope they grow up well. Your wife's a nice lady. Lucky man."

Davos let out a relieved sigh.

-

Hope you enjoyed.

You can find 10 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/Bleap