Fic: His Only Friend
Title: His Only Friend
Rating: G
Characters: Stannis, Davos
Word Count: 388
Summary: Abandoned by Melisandre, Stannis comforts himself with the knowledge that he still has Davos. Can be viewed as pre-slash or friendship fic.
He was not Azor Ahai reborn. Stannis knew he would not have made it even this far without Melisandre's help, and he resented that fact. He resented her, too, for deciding that Ned Stark's bastard was the chosen one after all and not him.
"Your Grace, come inside before you catch a chill," Davos urged him.
Davos was a good man. Indeed he was the only man Stannis had ever met that he deemed good. Stannis was content to stand out here and brood at the too few campfires surrounding him, but he knew his Hand would feel compelled to stand with him. He strode to his pavilion and ducked inside.
"You're a good man, Davos," he said.
"It's good of you to say so, Your Grace." Davos raised his maimed hand to his chest, to the pouch that was no longer there.
Davos understood. He knew Stannis only did what was just. Let the Great Other she feared so much take Melisandre of Asshai. He had Davos. There could be no greater sign that he was right than having a man like Davos by his side.
Davos handed him a bowl of hot onion stew. Stannis almost smiled. He had raised the man to lordship and made him his Hand, but Davos would always be his Onion Knight.
He noticed the fur cloak Davos wore. He didn't recall seeing it before. "That's a fine cloak."
"Wool alone would not do for this Northern winter," Davos said.
That was a sensible answer and a sensible reason for purchasing such a cloak. His brother Renly had liked to prattle on about which tailors made his clothes and where the fabrics came from and whether such cuts and colors were fashionable. Stannis set the bowl down, his appetite gone.
"I shall leave you to rest, Your Grace."
"No," Stannis said. "Stay. We must make plans."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Davos had never addressed him by name, of course. He always showed Stannis the proper respect. It had been a long time since anyone had called him simply Stannis though, not since his brothers died. Even his wife - when he could bear her presence - addressed him formally.
Enough, Stannis rebuked himself. Davos was waiting patiently for him to begin. He unrolled a map. "Show me what you spoke of earlier."
Rating: G
Characters: Stannis, Davos
Word Count: 388
Summary: Abandoned by Melisandre, Stannis comforts himself with the knowledge that he still has Davos. Can be viewed as pre-slash or friendship fic.
He was not Azor Ahai reborn. Stannis knew he would not have made it even this far without Melisandre's help, and he resented that fact. He resented her, too, for deciding that Ned Stark's bastard was the chosen one after all and not him.
"Your Grace, come inside before you catch a chill," Davos urged him.
Davos was a good man. Indeed he was the only man Stannis had ever met that he deemed good. Stannis was content to stand out here and brood at the too few campfires surrounding him, but he knew his Hand would feel compelled to stand with him. He strode to his pavilion and ducked inside.
"You're a good man, Davos," he said.
"It's good of you to say so, Your Grace." Davos raised his maimed hand to his chest, to the pouch that was no longer there.
Davos understood. He knew Stannis only did what was just. Let the Great Other she feared so much take Melisandre of Asshai. He had Davos. There could be no greater sign that he was right than having a man like Davos by his side.
Davos handed him a bowl of hot onion stew. Stannis almost smiled. He had raised the man to lordship and made him his Hand, but Davos would always be his Onion Knight.
He noticed the fur cloak Davos wore. He didn't recall seeing it before. "That's a fine cloak."
"Wool alone would not do for this Northern winter," Davos said.
That was a sensible answer and a sensible reason for purchasing such a cloak. His brother Renly had liked to prattle on about which tailors made his clothes and where the fabrics came from and whether such cuts and colors were fashionable. Stannis set the bowl down, his appetite gone.
"I shall leave you to rest, Your Grace."
"No," Stannis said. "Stay. We must make plans."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Davos had never addressed him by name, of course. He always showed Stannis the proper respect. It had been a long time since anyone had called him simply Stannis though, not since his brothers died. Even his wife - when he could bear her presence - addressed him formally.
Enough, Stannis rebuked himself. Davos was waiting patiently for him to begin. He unrolled a map. "Show me what you spoke of earlier."