Davos Seaworth entered the Red Keep, gazing up at the banners fluttering overhead. They weren't so different from the ones he had seen for the first time over a decade ago.
Except for the addition of the fiery red heart. To Davos, the old stag banner had felt cleaner, purer.
He wanted to tell Stannis that his parents' death in Shipbreaker Bay wasn't the fault of the Seven. Every man faces storms in his life.
But watching Melisandre grow closer to Stannis, her influence rising with each passing day, Davos knew his words would likely fall on deaf ears.
Besides, he lacked the spirit to press the issue.
Recently, his title had changed from a simple knight to a lord. He was now "Lord Seaworth," the Onion Lord.
Or perhaps "Lord of the Blackwater" would be more fitting, as Stannis had placed him in charge of the river's patrols and trade.
The old smuggler could still faintly recall the first time he met Stannis. Back then, Stannis was just a seventeen-year-old boy, grim-faced and starving, holding Storm's End against impossible odds.
And Davos was just a criminal with a boatload of onions.
Fate was a strange thing. That cold, stubborn boy had grown into a man and a King. And the smuggler from Flea Bottom had somehow transformed into a "Lord" that the smallfolk bowed to.
Sometimes Davos wondered if his father, who had died at sea, could see him now. The old crabber would probably swim up from the bottom of the ocean in sheer delight.
Better he doesn't know, Davos thought with a wry smile. He'd never believe it anyway.
Since Stannis had granted him such honor, Davos felt he owed the King a debt of equal loyalty.
Looking across the Seven Kingdoms, only Jon seemed to share a similar trajectory, though Jon's rise was far more legendary. Regardless, Davos believed Jon, like himself, placed loyalty above all else.
But as he walked, Davos's brow furrowed. He remembered Varys's words from not long ago.
Everything Jon has now was given by Stannis, yes. But he also won it himself. In a way, Stannis needs him more than he needs Stannis.
Varys had warned that House Tyrell might try to "corrupt" Jon.
Davos thought about it carefully and realized the Eunuch had a point.
Jon might be pure of heart now, but his future lies with the Tyrells. A marriage alliance is a powerful thing. Would the Roses of Highgarden not try to plant their thorns in his mind?
This worried Davos. From the start, nearly everyone had been using the young man.
Even now, despite being the greatest hero of the Iron Throne's cause, Jon held only a title. No land, no castle of his own.
It seemed unfair. Yes, he had a name now—Stark—but he had no earth beneath his feet. Varys's warning about Jon "turning sour" forced Davos to consider the possibility.
He hoped to persuade Stannis to offer Jon more—even if it was just a promise for the future. Jon needed to see the difficulties the Crown faced, so he wouldn't easily change his allegiance.
Lost in thought, Davos arrived at Maegor's Holdfast. The guards at the corner saluted him, and he nodded back, straightening his tunic.
Stannis was, of course, focused on the war in the West. When Davos entered the solar, the King was already there, flanked by Hand of the King Alester Florent, Varys, Master of Coin Adrian Celtigar, and the ever-aging Grand Maester Pycelle.
"I apologize for my lateness, Your Grace."
"It matters not. Sit," Stannis said flatly.
Seeing that all the key council members were present, Pycelle cleared his throat to introduce the topic.
"Lord Tywin has not relented. He insists—"
"Tywin is no longer a Lord Paramount, Grand Maester," Davos offered a gentle correction.
"Ah, yes. Apologies." Pycelle cast a grateful look at Davos. The old man had admired Tywin for so long that old habits died hard.
Stannis ignored the slip, signaling Pycelle to continue.
In truth, Stannis desired a younger Grand Maester, but tradition bound his hands. The Citadel chose the Grand Maester, and unless Pycelle died, he remained. And the old leech seemed determined to outlive every king in Westeros; he had already survived five or six.
Pycelle continued in his quavering voice, "Tywin refuses to budge. He agrees only to forgive the Crown's debt of three million gold dragons. In return, he demands the safe return of Cersei and Jaime, and that Jon's army withdraws from the Westerlands immediately. Only then will he swear fealty to Your Grace."
"Hmph. The old lion has lost his senses. He dares make demands?" Paxter Redwyne scoffed.
He glanced at Stannis, whose face was darkening like a thunderhead.
Stannis was clearly displeased with Tywin's provocative terms. If he accepted, what kind of "Just King" would he be?
House Lannister had stained the royal bloodline with incest, butchered the Riverlands, and conspired with the Tyrells to attack Stannis's own forces.
Any one of these crimes deserved death. Yet Tywin still dared to dictate terms? Stannis could not swallow such an insult.
"If that is his attitude, let Jon continue the attack," Stannis said, his voice cold as freezing rain.
Davos suddenly thought of something. He turned to Alester Florent. "Lord Hand, does Jon know about these negotiations?"
"Of course not. This is a direct dialogue between Casterly Rock and the Iron Throne," Alester replied matter-of-factly.
"Should we not tell him?" Davos looked to Stannis. "He is the one fighting in the West. He just took the Golden Tooth. He deserves to know."
"Lord Seaworth, Jon's duty is to fight. There is no need to burden him with politics," Alester dismissed.
"Why shouldn't he know?" Davos pressed, confused. "Was he not named Lord of Casterly Rock by the King himself? Are we not discussing changing the terms of his reward?"
"Have you considered, Ser Davos, that if Jon knew we were negotiating with Tywin, he might lose the will to fight for His Grace?"
As Alester's words hung in the air, the atmosphere in the room shifted.
It felt... dishonorable. To scheme so darkly against a commander risking his life on the front lines.
Davos bristled with indignation. Beside him, Varys stared at the wall, feigning disinterest.
"Your Grace, this is not your will, is it?" Davos asked, looking at Stannis with pleading eyes.
Stannis did not answer immediately. Davos felt a pit in his stomach. It was as if the King, like his banner, had changed.
"Your Grace, how can you deceive your own leal servant? This is... exploitation," Davos said, disappointment heavy in his voice.
"Lord Seaworth! Watch your tone with the King!" Alester snapped.
Davos ignored the Hand. He stared straight into Stannis's deep blue eyes, searching for the man he had followed through starvation and storm.
Under the scrutiny of his most honest servant, Stannis's expression cracked.
"Yes. I did not intend for Jon to know," Stannis admitted, his jaw tight. "But do you honestly believe he can take Casterly Rock? Have you ever seen it? I have!
"It is a mountain carved into a castle! The Lion's Mouth alone has two hundred scorpions that can shoot four hundred paces! Their granaries can feed them for years! They have their own wells! It cannot be stormed, and it cannot be starved! How do you propose he take it?"
Stannis was agitated. The decision to keep Jon in the dark weighed on him.
"But why not tell him the truth? I believe Jon would understand," Davos said softly.
Davos had never been inside Casterly Rock, but he knew of it. A fortress carved from living rock. A mountain that was a castle, a castle that was a mountain.
A fortress rising hundreds of feet into the air. Davos couldn't imagine how anyone could take it.
Seeing Davos's resolve weaken, Stannis pressed on. "Since he has taken the Golden Tooth, he can keep it. The gold mines surrounding it, the mines of Castamere—any mine he captures, I will grant to him! Is that not enough? I will even grant him tax exemption! He will not owe the Iron Throne a single copper for ten years!"
Stannis spoke with fervor. Davos realized his King was wrestling with his conscience.
On one hand, the deception violated his rigid code of justice. On the other, as King, he had to secure peace and stability for the realm, and sometimes that required compromise.
"For a bastard to receive such a promise is already a fortune beyond measure," Alester chimed in.
Prejudice is a mountain, Davos thought, recalling words Jon had once spoken. He turned a sharp gaze on Alester. "At least this 'bastard' didn't try to sell his King to the enemy for a castle."
"How dare you!" Alester flushed crimson, his past treachery thrown back in his face.
"Enough!" Stannis barked. His Small Council meetings were never pleasant affairs.
"The matter is settled. Let Jon continue the campaign. If he truly manages to take Casterly Rock... I will not break my promise."
Stannis stood abruptly and stormed out of the chamber, leaving his councilors to scramble to their feet and bow.
Watching Stannis's retreating back, Davos was at a loss for words.
He still believed they should tell Jon about the peace talks. To do otherwise was to spend the coin of trust—a currency that, once spent, was hard to earn back.