The Red Sword of Heroes
Davos might have arrived on Tabula Rasa with nothing save the clothes on his back but a couple of years was more than enough to change that. He had weapons and boats and drink galore, in truth: gifts from friends both present and departed. And, most dramatically, he had a statue propped up outside his hut. It was burned and melted, the gold and jewels was missing in patches and showing the painted wood that lay beneath, but still imposing and still recognizable as a female form.
A female form with a sword buried in her chest.
Stannis might have pulled that sword out with a single jerk, that day on Dragonstone, but Davos had taken more care. It took him near on half an hour of careful work to get the sword loose and free. Melisandre had called it Lightbringer but it brought no light now. It's cherry red steel was faded and no longer bore any flames, and so Davos held it easily in uncertain hands.
This had been his King's sword, this had been the weapon he had said would drive back the darkness, and, practical as Davos was, he knew this wasn't something that should be carried by a simple smuggler. Nor was it anything he wanted too close to him, fire burns, Salla had told him, and Davos knew that more than any man alive.
He held it up reverently, in both hands, and wondered if he should give it to Nessa's museum instead.
A female form with a sword buried in her chest.
Stannis might have pulled that sword out with a single jerk, that day on Dragonstone, but Davos had taken more care. It took him near on half an hour of careful work to get the sword loose and free. Melisandre had called it Lightbringer but it brought no light now. It's cherry red steel was faded and no longer bore any flames, and so Davos held it easily in uncertain hands.
This had been his King's sword, this had been the weapon he had said would drive back the darkness, and, practical as Davos was, he knew this wasn't something that should be carried by a simple smuggler. Nor was it anything he wanted too close to him, fire burns, Salla had told him, and Davos knew that more than any man alive.
He held it up reverently, in both hands, and wondered if he should give it to Nessa's museum instead.