6

Shielding Their Realms Forever by GreedofRage, Longclaw_1_6

Chapter 6: Chapter 5

Davos

"You great cunt!"

"Love, please…"

"Father, don't leave." Wrapped around him were two growing bundles, just boys when he had last seen them. It put just how long he had been gone into perspective. His sons were becoming young men. "You just got back."

Davos sighed, kissing both Steffon and Stannis on the crown of their heads. "I love you boys. I wish I could stay…"

"Then stay!" Marya, his wife. She had grown slightly curvier in the waist and heavier in the bust thanks to the years, streaks of grey marring her raven-black hair, but she was still breathtaking. Arising the same passion within Davos as she had when a willowy maiden smitten by his rugged youth and swift boat. Only now those features were curled in anger. "You can stay and be with your family after gallivanting with that Stag!" She balled her fists on his shirt, seeming to want to strike him… but didn't for the sake of the children.

He kissed her, continuing to do so till her body softened. "My love… I wish to be with you forever and soon, we shall. But I have a new Lord to serve, one that deserves a crown on his head." A man that emerged from the dead, that united giants and wildlings to the forces of the Seven Kingdoms for the first time in history. A man that saw the future in death, a man the wildlings saw as a god upon the earth. A man that terrified him.

Davos knew which were true and which were lies… for the most part. But what was completely true, Jon Snow was a man that deserved to be followed. A man that would do great things, that could save the Seven Kingdoms. One he had to fight for.

"You said that of Stannis… and we lost Matthos for him." Tears fell down Marya's cheeks, ones that stabbed Davos in the gut. "Why must you serve another? Is he truly a god among men?"

"The things he has done… he seems that way." But that wasn't the real reason. "The things… that are in the North, I cannot be anywhere else. Please understand." Davos cupped his cheek. "Do you trust me?"

Her brown eyes found his own. "I… I trust you…"

Damn the Seven, the Old Gods, and the Lord of Light that he decided to go home in the time he was given by Jon. It made parting with his family so much harder. If he waited until all was said and done, it would have been a warm welcome home and he wouldn't have to worry about leaving. But the morning after that wonderful reunion he wished lasted for years upon years, the last he saw of his family were eyes filled with tears and felt their broken hearts as much as he could feel his.

His boys had gotten so big in five years. He missed so much, too much. But he had his job to do and he could not fail Jon.

The journey to the city was kindly uninterrupted. No stops on the roads by highwaymen, and no ships out on patrol when he took to the sea in a rowboat. But once he had gotten to the city, he realized just how much he would have preferred highwaymen and patrol ships.

Smuggling used to be an easy job. Hide the boat, bribe the weak link in the City Watch, get the goods, and be gone. Now with the Faith Militant, the only thing Davos had been able to do was hide the boat. These zealots of the High Sparrow were a tough bunch of men that were impossible to persuade, and only worse to approach when their weapons were out. They were consumed so much by the ideals of their gods.

The Great Sept had undergone a change of state. No longer was it a house of gods, but a fortress with a man in rags as the king without a crown. Getting inside the cells beneath was going to be impossible alone. A job like this was going to require a man of strength.

"Seven blessin's to yah." Davos greeted a pair of Sparrows before he turned to the Street of Steel. The environment was so different the moment you turned the corner. There were no more prostitutes, no more beggars, and no more drunks in the street. Now there were men all at hard work striking hammers against hot steel glowing bright orange as ripe carrots and shaping stock into art of the smith.

One of them was caught by Davos' eye. He was already the size of a man when he last saw him but the boy kept growing. Another few years and he might be as tall as his father was in his prime. He cut his hair shorter and had put on some muscle but he was still filthy and unnoticed by unwanted eyes.

"Didn't think I would find you here," Davos announced as he stepped into the forge. "I thought you might still be rowin'."

Gendry paused his work at his anvil and turned. When he saw Davos he cracked a smile and set his hammer down on the anvil covered in a layer of steel scale.

"I looked in taverns, brothels, but I shoulda known to come straight to the street of steel." He walked over to a rack of swords Gendry made. Nothing too special but all fine in quality. And the fact that the boy got his own shop was impressive no less.

"You said the best place to hide was under the Queen's nose. Goldcloaks have never given me a second look. No one has, not even the Sparrows 'n chains," Gendry responded. He walked over to his forge and killed his heat, the glow of the coals fading out slowly.

"Just because they don't recognize yah or even care to find yah, it doesn't mean things are a safe state of affairs. Bad things are coming, the warm part of the world just hasn't seen it yet."

Gendry chuckled as he set his tools down. "You know I learned that people speakin' in riddles like that usually got a truth they'd rather not say until whatever it is their offerin's taken. If bad things are comin', you're gonna need help then?"

Davos shrugged and nodded at the same time. Gendry had grown a better judge of character too. "More than you know. We got it bad here in the south and even worse is coming from the Wall. I imagine that if you need some persuasion-"

"Not at all. Let's go." Gendry removed his soot-covered apron and began gathering some things in a leather satchel he had hanging on a steel rack in the corner of his shop.

It came as a surprise that it didn't take anything to get him to help, it made Davos wonder if Gendry was being too rash to choose. "You might want to learn what yer gettin' into first."

"Do you think I like being back here?" The anger was clear in Gendry's voice. "Forgin' weapons for the bitch who murdered my family? I've always known I'd be leavin', I just never knew when." He stood face to face with Davos, clearly not faltering in his decision.

There wasn't any shred of doubt in the boy's eyes. Good. "You might want to bring one of those swords." Davos advised.

Gendry smirked and shook his head. He walked over to a nearby beam supporting the roof. "I don't know much about swords. But this," he pulled down a massive warhammer and held it easily in his hands, "this I know."

Davos couldn't help but smile. The head was blacked and had a brass stag on each side of it, bastardizing the sigil of House Baratheon. He truly was King Robert's son. But for the job, they would need something a bit more discreet. "Nice hammer. Wouldn't happen to have any good knives too?"

Gendry walked over to a table and picked up a dagger and held it to Davos. It was a fine one at that. "Fresh forged, good steel."

"Not for me." He patted his side where a concealed knife was. "The Sparrow might see that hammer coming from far away."

Gendry cocked his head in confusion. "I thought we were leavin' the city."

"We are, tomorrow night. But first we got a rose to pick."

He explained things to Gendry of his true purpose of being in the capital. This time it took some convincing but Gendry finally went with it. They waited for the cover of night and watched the shift changes of the Sparrows from the cover of a home a kind family allowed them to stay in for a few gold dragons.

They had a perfect view of the window of the cell that held Ser Loras Tyrell. Tomorrow, Davos would gain an audience and surveillance of the inside. If it was too impregnable then they would have to get in from the outside. It would be their only chance since the day of his trial was approaching quickly, only two days away.

With the surveillance done on the outside, it was time to get on the inside. Both men rested when the sun rose until mid afternoon, after morning mass was done for the common folk.

Alone, Davos entered the Great Sept with the eyes of Sparrows watching him. He left his knife with Gendry in the house lest he face the judgment of the zealots should they find it. The High Sparrow was by the tall statue of the Smith, cleaning the feet of the idol.

"Good afternoon," Davos started.

The High Sparrow finished the left big toe of the Smith before setting his rag down and facing Davos. "Seven blessings to you."

"And you. I hope you don't think less of me for sayin' this, but I never liked these statues. Too big and looming."

The High Sparrow nodded with a somewhat agreeing expression. "The dedication for the gods is never unappreciated. But where the line is drawn between vanity and faith is the one most do not even try to look for when such acts are done. Nevertheless of things, they are deserving of care and dedication as all holy places of the Seven should be."

Davos only produced a friendly smirk. "Unfortunately I missed the mass this morning. My ship only just arrived. From Braavos, you see. Word got to me about Ser Tyrell's trial and I was hopin' to see if I could give aid to repay what he gave me a long time ago."

"You know Ser Loras?"

"We met once. He helped me and I haven't been able to repay the favor. I hope I could maybe see him and give him some counsel. I understand his position maybe better than most would try to." Davos pretended to act uncomfortable with himself. "I too once partook in the love of men. Growing up I had eyes for the riders and knights passin' on the streets. But then I came to a low part of my life and I knew I had to change. Were it not for the word's of a septon I met years ago, I wouldn't have found the grace of the gods. Now, I'm happily married and a… was a father until the false King Stannis killed my son and daughter when his war came to us with his false god."

"Heresy. Such a terrible thing when it's evil guides the faithful to their death. Our only comfort we can take is that the faith will save them in the heavens while those who wrought such horrible fates to them will face their regret for their foolishness." There was a moment of silence between them. "Come, allow me to show you to Ser Loras."

Success. Davos was taken down into the lower halls of the Great Sept. He didn't know his history of the place, only rumors that the High Septons before the High Sparrow used these rooms and corridors to cleanse the sin from many maidens with blessings of the cock.

They went deeper into the cells. He always wondered why a church would need a prison. Was it in case the city prison was too full or mayhaps the Black Cells under the Red Keep?

Cell after cell, they finally came to one in particular.

The moment the door opened, Davos had seen all he needed to know the best route of escape. As it would be, the only choice they had would be to remove the iron bars from the window. They would only have a few minutes to chisel the stone to remove the bars, not enough time unless they got rid of the patrol quietly.

Ser Loras was curled up in the corner of his cell, angry or miserable and didn't even look up to Davos. He looked horrible compared to when the Onion Knight saw him last at the parley of Storm's End. no longer did Loras Tyrell look like a Rose of Highgarden but just another shit from the gutters of Fleabottom.

"Good Morning," Davos greeted as he stepped into the cell.

Loras finally took a glance up at him and squinted upon nearly recognizing him.

"We met before once at a melee in the Stormlands. I don't expect you to remember me of course, but I remember you, a gallant knight and a damned good fighter. Saved me from those drunkards if you recall." He brought his hands behind his back and rested them, keeping what he held out of sight of the High Sparrow watching. "I understand how this must be for you. The way they demand you change who you are to be what the gods want, it's a terrible feeling. I was once in your shoes, Ser. Or I guess you could say it was just like being in a cell just like this." He knelt down to Loras and placed his good hand on the Knight's shoulder. "It hurts boy, I know. We don't want to leave our cages because it's where we've grown to love ourselves when others would despise us outside. But one night I found the strength to leave my old ways behind. I had help from my friends and even men I considered my enemies once. Together we persevered and I learned to change for the better." He patted Loras's shoulder and on the last pat dropped the note down the inside of the rag shirt Loras wore. "All you have to do is trust that you can break free of these chains that you let yourself wear and trust others to help you."

"..." Ser Loras said nothing but looked at him. "I've forgotten every bubbly girl to ever offer me favors and the few I've held a rose out to in every tourney, but I'd never forget a face like yours."

"I'd feel flattered but I don't think this is the right place to be."

"Obviously. You can't expect a person to just change in a night. What do I think I've been thinking about every single night I've been in this cell? I've been stuck in here with no one but the gods to look down on me."

"And men since yer slumped down there." Davos offered his right hand to Ser Loras. "So try standin' up so we can be eye to eye."

Loras started to act like this performance was genuine, good. He reached out and clasped Ser Davos, being pulled up to his feet only to nearly fall had Davos not caught him.

"Easy!" Davos chuckled as he straightened the former Knight of Flowers. "There you go."

Loras took a deep breath and locked eyes with Davos who was looking back and forth from him to the bars of the window.

"It's gonna hurt, lad. Every day you commit to this change. But once you finally lift the weight of it all away, it'll feel like a good wakin' from a bad dream. I know this might not constitute as repaying what you did for me, but I hope it helps things be easier."

"I don't know if it will… but I won't forget it."

"Then maybe that's enough to let it do all it needs." He patted Loras on the shoulder and shook his hand before he had to leave at the demand of the Sparrow watching them.

The darkness of night covered the entire city like a cold blanket. When the moon was just peaking over the horizon, Davos and Gendry made their move. As they moved about the streets, Davos had to admit to himself that the streets were in fact safer than when he lived in the slums of Flea Bottom.

Davos found the two Sparrows that were on patrol outside the Sept where the cell windows were. "My friends!" Davos made himself known with frantics. "There is heresy and blasphemy being committed a few streets down! Pagans worshiping the Lord of Light in secret!"

The two men of the reconstituted Faith Militant tightened their grip on their weapons, both steel mace heads on wood rods. "Show us the way!" The taller of the two demanded.

Davos nodded and stole a quick look to where Gendry hid with the tools to free Loras. He then rushed down the street with the Sparrows following. He brought them far enough away to a storehouse that had no longer been in use. "In here, quietly. We wouldn't want to alert them. They might escape."

"A wise decision. The Seven shall bless you for your faith to the true Gods." Davos led them inside. It was darker than the depths of the ocean. There was a door on the far side of the room and the flickerings of light were coming from the other side.

"In there," Davos pointed and let the Sparrows get ahead of him. They crept to the door, the only noise made were the jingles of the chains they wore over their chests. The tallest tore the door open and ran inside with a face hard as stone as did the other. Davos hurried and shut the door behind them and before they knew what was happening barred it shut. The two Sparrows were banging and yelling from the other side as Davos pulled empty barrels and boxes to cover the door with more weight. He couldn't let them get out or be heard. If this worked, no one would find it for a while or at all. Retribution for ransacking his favorite meadery.

Davos hurried back to the Sept and found Gendry still at work He managed to break the stone around three of the four bars of the window and was nearly done with the last. "Hurry up," he hissed, "the next patrol will be here soon." The butt of the chisel being used was covered with folded leather to muffle the ringing of hammer hitting steel.

"I know!" Gendry whispered back. He set the hammer aside after another hit and grabbed the bar with his bare hands. It didn't look loose enough to pull free. Gendry proved otherwise when with a mighty tug the stone broke and the last bar came free.

Davos peered into the hole and saw Loras standing there. "Well, you comin'?" He extended a hand down and tried to be welcoming.

Loras' gaze narrowed at him. He ran forward and jumped up off the wall to grab onto Davos. Gendry slipped an arm down and together they pulled Loras free of his cell. Gendry began to put the bars back and tried to pace the broken stone back in place. It was a messy job, but without enough light no one would notice unless they got very close.

"What now?" Loras asked quietly.

"Now, we get out of this fuckin' city." Davos threw a large cloak around Loras and led both him and Gendry as far away from the Great Sept of Baelor as they could get, back to where his boat was waiting for them.

They went unnoticed for the most part, only gaining a few glances here and there from passing strangers.

When they got out of the city and to the stone steps leading to the hidden beach where the boat was, Loras finally broke the silence.

"Your name… Seaweed?" Loras inquired, pulling the hood from his head.

"Seaworth, Ser Davos Seaworth, former Hand of the King to Stannis Baratheon."

"Former? Did that bastard decide that the red witch was better suited for the job?"

"Gods be good, lad," Davos scoffed, "how long were you locked up in there? Stannis is dead." Based on the smell, Loras was in there for too long. He'd need a proper bath, and maybe a haircut if he was stricken with lice. Hopefully he wasn't.

Loras halted and looked at Davos, both in satisfaction and surprise. "How?"

"His army was defeated when they tried takin' Winterfell from the Boltons. 'Cept it wasn't the Boltons that killed him, it was a former colleague of yours, Brienne of Tarth. Executed in the name of Renly."

Ser Loras looked somewhat disappointed but also glad. "Brienne of Tarth… where is she?"

"She's where we're heading. The North."

"I'm not going to the North, I'm going home."

"Not yet, son. When the time is right. And given that you're without the boat, you haven't got much of a choice but to do as I say." Davos had the sudden urge to shift his belt so his dagger was more out of reach of Loras. From what he knew, the Knight of Flowers tended to be impulsive at times.

"What about him?" Loras asked, looking to Gendry. "If I wasn't starved and tired I'd mistake you for Renly Baratheon."

"Well, he is my uncle. My name's Gendry, Robert Baratheon's bastard."

Davos groaned as he realized he forgot to tell Gendry to keep that detail to himself.

Loras just chuckled loudly. "You're a lot leaner than that fat oaf. Now that you mention it, I can see some similarities though. You look if Renly had the brawn of Robert's prime."

"Save the chatter when we're clear of the city," Davos hissed as they reached the boat, "words can still carry over the waves."

Margaery

Margaery took her seat in the center of the Great Sept. This was the first time she truly felt fearful as the Queen. The seven statues of the gods loomed over and only added to the eyes of the masses. She had to stay calm and play the tune of the High Sparrow for now. Once she had Loras back then there would be nothing to stop her from destroying these fucking zealots. But not before Cersei faced justice.

Her hands were folded in her lap, thumbs constantly wrestling as time went on. She yearned for her brother. What was taking those Sparrows so damn long? It hadn't been long since they left, but she knew the journey to the cells did not take this long. Her worries began to fester and grow. Was Loras resisting or did the fear and pain of this trial's demands weigh too much on him? Did he decide to… no, she knew her brother. Loras is strong and would survive this as long as she was there to help him. But still, it was taking too long. Even the High Sparrow seemed to notice how long it had been since sending his underlings to bring Loras.

Margaery got up to her seat and calmly approached the High Sparrow closely. "What is taking your men?" She kept her voice quiet to seem reverent but also subtle.

The High Sparrow did not need to answer, for at that moment both of the Sparrows returned but without Loras. A great many whispers arrived when the obvious absence of Loras was blatantly obvious.

For an instant, Margaery's breath was caught in her throat. If the Sparrows returned without Loras, could it mean that he had taken his own life in refusal to display himself in an act of repentance? A quick prayer left her lips that it would not come to pass.

The Sparrows rushed to the High Sparrow and one of them whispered something. Sudden shock and concern fell on the High Sparrow's face and he looked directly at Margaery. "Ser Loras Tyrell's cell was broken into and he is gone," he announced loudly for all to hear.

Margaery gasped so suddenly. Loras escaped? Was this his own work or did their grandmother have something to do with this? If it were the latter, Margaery was certain she would have been given some type of message or sign about this.

"Gather twenty of your number to search the city," said the High Sparrow, "and another twenty to find Cersei Lannister."

Margaery shot a glance to her father and saw him just as surprised and confused as everyone else, only there was also a slight relief in his eyes and Margaery shared the feeling. If Loras escaped, then there were no more hostages the High Sparrow had over them.

A sudden commotion took not just Margaery's but everyone's attention to the entrance. Two Sparrows standing guard were refusing entrance to someone and it escalated to shouting. "What part of danger do you not understand, you simpleton!?" Her eyes widened when she saw her family's captain of the Highgarden guard, Ser Jasper, draw and impale his sword through one of the Sparrows. Two other Tyrell knights had killed the other that was standing guard at the door. Many more of her family's household guards began to spill into the Great Sept with swords drawn.

"What are you doing?" Margaery demanded.

The knights did not answer, for they immediately fought off and killed the Sparrows that came to avenge their fallen brethren. "Your grace," Ser Jasper called as he and more of his men that came in the sept got closer to her, "You need to leave here immediately!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the center of the Sept. "Everyone needs to leave! You are all in danger!"

People began to panic and were rushing from the door. Margaery didn't understand what was going on in such pandemonium. What danger did Ser Jasper mean? Were her family's men the ones who helped Loras break free? Was this her grandmother's doing?

Ser Jasper pushed and shoved his way forward, forcing Margaery to follow him to get outside. A few times he pulled so hard that Margaery thought her arm was going to break.

"Jasper, stop this! What are you doing?"

"Lady Olenna's orders, your Grace." Jasper said without looking back.

So it was her grandmother. Did she know something that Margaery did not foresee? "What have you done with Loras? Where's my brother?"

"I do not know. We were told that he would be free before today."

"But what is happening?" They just managed to get outside the doorway when a great rumble shook the very ground. Both of them looked back inside and saw the High Sparrow change from utter wrath to shock and fearful.

"Run!" Jasper pulled harder at Margaery, hurting her as he pulled but she could not keep up with his pace as they pushed through the great crowd of fleeing people.

"Margaery!" She heard her father call out. She looked back and saw nothing but worry stricken on his face as he tried to get to her. It was the last she saw of him before green flashes burst through the ground and consumed the inside of the Great Sept.

The green light chased and consumed everyone in its path faster than a horde of lions ripping through their prey.

Euron

Castle Pyke, what a shit excuse for a pile of crumbling shit. It's no wonder Balon couldn't win a single war he waged. The fool who commands his Ironborn from a pile of rubble on land has no right to even think of himself a King of Salt and Iron. A real King of the Ironborn knows his castle is the ship he commands and his kingdom is the sea.

For a moment, Euron wished his foolish brother was still alive so he could have cut out his tongue and then killed him again.

No throne of stone awaited him in the morning. His throne was the wheel of the Silence and once his fleet was completed, he would make for King's Landing to get his bitch before they made to take the world. Cersei was old, but an alliance with her would be fun. And once she bore him a babe then she could die and a young, tender bride would be his salt wife. Maybe he'd find that Stark bitch, he always got hard for redheads.

For now, he lavished the whores who's breasts kept him warm as the ocean rocked them in his cabin. He could have kept going for an hour more with both of them but the wine had dulled his fatigue. No matter, these two had become loose fits for his cock. He'd find some new wenches after these ones were fed to the sharks.

'Euron… Greyjoy…'

His eyes opened wide. The echoes of a voice just spoken lingered in his mind. Had he been drugged? It couldn't have been a dream. He never dreamed since he sold that ability to the Warlocks of the Shadowlands in exchange for protection in Valyria.

That voice, it couldn't be his crew of mutes. Who the fuck was that?

Suddenly, it was like someone pressed their fingers through his skull and started to claw his brain out. His nerves were plucked like tight strings of a harp. He felt his consciousness being pulled into some strange vision unlike any he had ever witnessed before.

His cabin disappeared. He was naked in the cold depths of the ocean yet he did not shiver nor did he find want of air, in the midst of a crumbled patheon. The waters were clear as the finest glass and illuminated by a pale moonlight. He stared down the ruins around him, looking for whichever foolish cunt was disturbing his rest. He would spike their head on the anchor of the Silence, whoever's doing this was.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the very breath was stolen from his lungs. He smiled at the discovery of something new to feel. "So this is what fear tastes like." It tasted like ash and snow. He turned around and saw something he never thought he could imagine even from all the many things he has seen around the world.

A powerful throne of bronze and stone pierce up from the seabed as a knife through the heart ripping out a man's back. It was glorious, bronze and stone shaped into a demonic squid. This was a proper throne, not melted swords or something atop a pyramid. Its very presence convinced his own ideals to nothing.

Sitting at the seat of the throne was him, the Drowned God. Hair of black and silver covered his head and face in a fullest of beards. Eyes of glowing bronze stared deep into him. He was naked save for the sharkskin loincloth and cloak of iron rings. In his hand was a mighty axe standing the height of three men.

"...Euron Greyjoy…" The god spoke to him in a voice that could shake mountains and he outstretched his hand.

Euron walked slowly but did not kneel. "What do you beseech of your son of salt and iron?"

'...' It didn't respond, it only looked at him in silence. Maybe Euron would make this son of a bitch a crewmate. Then, the god spoke again. '...you are….. the answer…' The bronze eyes of death changed colors to white and glowed ominously.

Euron's mind began to flood and crash like the ocean's mightiest waves with images of memories he could not explain, memories that were yet to happen, or maybe already did.

'...I've been around the world. I've seen things you can't possibly imagine. But this, this is the only thing that terrifies me…... If I win, I'll bring your head to Cersei so you can kiss her, one last time…. I'm the man who killed Jaime Lannister….'

The flood ended and he looked at the God before him with a grin. So many memories of things that have yet to pass, things that could have, things that were so… boring. He smiled to cover this new feeling he felt. Now he knew how his enemies felt when they met him. "What do you want of me?"

The Drowned God outstretched his hand, beckoning for him to come closer. '... a gift… power… strength… and the world… you will die pathetic without… your fleet will be stolen… your name, a joke… and your crown taken…'

Euron could not deny his intrigue. He stepped closer, not breaking eyes with those that looked down on him. "My brother used to say that a gift can be taken back. I'm going to take it, all of it. The world will be all mine."

Euron took hands with the Drowned God and his arm surged with electrifying sensations that were both agonizing pain and euphoric pleasure. The feelings traveled up his arm, into his shoulder, through his neck and face and finally settled in his left eye. It was all so… cold.

His vision started distorting in his left eye, like everything he saw had a second image behind it and the Drowned God's eyes flashed blue as the coldest sea before returning back to bronze, and the face turned white as though the skin was splintering ice.