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Chapter Text

“I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had, and how I offered you everything that was left of me.” -Charles Bukowski

Aeron traced circles onto Davos’ naked chest, quiet in the afterglow of their meeting. Davos was laid on his back, one arm around the Bracken, brushing his thumb up and down his shoulder, the other holding tightly onto Aeron’s forearm, his cheek resting firmly on top of Aeron’s head. Davos stared into the night sky with a pensive look in his eyes. 

Their night had been one of desperation. There was a different energy to Davos tonight. Rarely is the other man anything but glutinous and near rabid when they meet in secret, but tonight…. Tonight he had held Aeron gently, had touched him softly, had taken his time, as if memorizing every inch of Aeron’s skin, until the other man was whimpering in overstimulation.

“What troubles you, my love,” Aeron asks. The taller man only hums, as if to brush aside Aeron’s inquiry, eyes many miles away.

Aeron pinches Davos’ nipple viciously.

“Ouch! Shit, Aeron!”

The long haired man snorts, and soothes the pain with a kiss. He could still taste the saltiness of sweat on Davos’ chest. “Do not be a baby. I asked you a question. What bothers you? You’re only this distant when something bad has happened.” 

The raven hesitated, and that’s when Aeron knew it was truly bad. The Blackwood man was many things; brash, loud, stubborn. But never hesitant. Aeron tried to brace himself for whatever was about to come out of his lover’s mouth, but there was no way to prepare.

“... My Uncle has bid me to go to Dragonstone,” Davos said softly.

Aeron couldn’t help his surprise. He nearly leapt up, but instead pushed up to his elbow to get a better look at the Blackwood. “What? Why would he do that?”

Davos threw an arm over his eyes and sighed. When he peaked back out to look at Aeron, there was a resigned look in his eye. He sat up and snaked a hand over to hold Aeron’s. 

“He will declare for Queen Rhaenyra, we knew this. He wishes for me to go as an envoy, to represent our House in the coming war.”

Aeron’s head was spinning. Ice filled his veins. “How do you know there will be war?” Even as the words left his mouth Aeron felt like a fool. Davos leveled him with a Look. 

“The Hightowers have crowned Aegon II King. There is no way that Queen Rhaenyra will just step aside to allow her brother to become King. King Viserys upheld Her Grace’s claim from the moment he named her Heir at six and ten, no matter that he had three more sons. She will come to claim her Throne, and we all know it, Aeron. She is the rightful Queen.” 

Aeron turned his head to look out into the darkness of the forest surrounding them. It was so peaceful here, they could almost pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But it did. And any old fool could see war on the horizon.

“My Uncle has not declared for one or the other yet. I know not which way he leans, but I suspect he will declare for King Aegon II solely because your Uncle will declare for the Queen.” Aeron’s brow furrowed, remembering how acidic his Lord Uncle’s words had been yesterday when they’d received news that King Viserys had died. His Uncle would never follow a woman’s rule, he hardly even looked at his own wife and daughters. The pompous man had eyes only for his sons. 

He hardly had eyes for his nephew either, if he was being honest. 

Davos reached up to gently tug Aeron’s chin to face him again, brushed the Bracken’s hair behind his ear and cupped his cheek. Aeron had never seen such tenderness from the other man, and knew that Davos would not turn his Uncle down in his request. 

The Bracken knight closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his lover’s. “When do you leave,” he whispered into the night. 

“Tomorrow.”

Aeron sucked in a breath. Tomorrow. His lover would very soon be riding for Dragonstone to meet with a Queen who wouldn’t give two shits about him. “It's not fair,” he whispers. “Why does it have to be you?”

Aeron feels childish for even asking.

“You know why,” Davos whispers back. Aeron opens his eyes and sees the yawning sadness that stretches down into his lover’s very soul. “Benjicot is my Uncle’s only Heir, and he must stay to help ready the Keep for the soldiers to depart, and learn to run it in my Uncle’s absence. My Lady Aunt insists on riding out with my Uncle, and my sister-” Davos’ voice breaks as his eyes close.

Davos’ twin sister Raella had died five moons ago of a mysterious illness that had swept through the Riverlands, gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving devastation in its wake. Aeron still remembers how Davos’ body shook with his heaving sobs, remembers how all he could do was hold the man who had stolen his heart as he mourned the person he had come into this world alongside. He remembers as Davos cursed every God he could think of, had raged and screamed and finally sat and shook with silent tears. 

“She is my twin, what am I to do without the other half of my soul?” Davos had whispered hoarsely.

It was one of the most terrifying nights of Aeron’s life. He would bet that was the first time in generations a Bracken had shed tears over the death of a Blackwood, for he had cried silent tears as Davos had finally slept. 

Davos takes a breath to steel himself and opens his eyes. “My sister would have been a better choice, but she’s gone. I am the only other member of my House that is of age, and I’m one of the few that knows the inner workings of House Blackwood and Raventree Hall well enough to aid Her Grace.” 

Aeron leaned into the hand on his cheek, his long hair falling to brush Davos’ hand. He knew that Davos had received the same training as an Heir to House Blackwood would have, he and Raella taking lessons alongside their younger cousin Benjicot and Aunt Alysanne. House Blackwood did not have many heirs left to them, and they took care to make sure each eligible child would be able to run the Keep in the event that they became the last Blackwood. Benjicot, Alysanne, Raella and Davos had been as thick as thieves until Raella’s death. 

Davos won’t talk about it, but Aeron knows he’s been pulling away from the Blackwood Heir and his Aunt, cutting off the closeness he and his kin once shared.

He knows because Davos has been doing the same to him. 

The Bracken knight knew it was because of the grief in his lover’s heart. That did not mean that it didn’t sting. 

“Do you know when you will return?” Aeron selfishly hoped that it would not be long, that he would be reunited with Davos in barely a moon’s time.

“I suspect it will take us six days to get there, including the boat ride. We will spend half a moon there, then we will return, assuming the Queen has no immediate need of us. She has many Houses swearing fealty to her.” 

The Bracken knight knew what Davos was not saying. Raventree Hall and the Blackwoods controlled a good portion of the river and wetlands that cut through the land from Ironman’s Bay. If the Queen wanted to continue to have a good relationship between the Iron Islands and much of the North, then she would have to treat well with the Blackwoods. 

The only ones standing in the Blackwood’s way were the Brackens. 

War indeed. 

Almost a full moon Davos would be gone. 

“I will await your return, then,” Aeron says instead of crying. He was seven and ten, he would not shed tears because his lover would be gone for a few measly weeks. They had been apart for longer.

Davos smirked, “Will you now? I’ll have to hurry back, then.” The Blackwood’s hand trailed lightly down to the Bracken’s neck to rest there. “You know…” Davos continued, more somber now, “You wouldn’t have to await my return if you came with me.”

Aeron jerked in surprise. “Come with you? Why would I come with you to Dragonstone? The rest of the Blackwoods would kill me if I even approached you outside our lands.”

Davos pursed his lips, and shifted his gaze to the dark forest around them. The pensive look was back, but Davos was intensely present when he looked back into Aeron’s green eyes. “Not to Dragonstone. Leave with me. Leave the Riverlands with me.”

Aeron’s eyes grew wide, and he pulled back from Davos. The other man allowed his hand to drop away from Aeron. They stared at each other, Aeron in shock and Davos with desperation. 

“Leave with you? You understand what you’re asking me, correct? I cannot just abandon my House!” Aeron was aghast. He could not believe that Davos was serious, but he had never seen the other man so fervent. 

“And why not? It's not as though your Lord Uncle pays you much mind, and knights are needed everywhere. You’ve been knighted, and I’ve always been crafty. Between the two of us we would figure it out. We could go to Pentos, or find a place in Dorne, or anywhere but here . Please, my love. Come with me.”

Davos had an almost crazed gleam in his eye, as he all but begged Aeron to come with him. Blood was rushing in Aeron’s ears, his heart hammering in his chest. There was no way Davos could be seriously thinking this.

Aeron pulled further back from the Blackwood, disentangling their limbs to gain space to think. “Are you even hearing yourself Davos? We cannot abandon our Houses. They would hunt us down and kill us both. And besides, I owe my Uncle my life. And you would worry about your cousin and Aunt every moment we were gone. We would never make it past Harrenhal.” 

The Blackwood was getting angry now. But Aeron could see the flash of hurt in Davos’ eyes. “We would make it. We could do anything, as long as we’re together.”

The knight’s throat closed up, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He closed his eyes and took a breath to center himself, like his mother had taught him. He knew his next words would hurt, but he could do nothing about them.

Aeron opened his eyes and looked into Davos’ blue ones. “No, my love. I cannot leave with you.”

The taller man’s eyes closed as if he had been struck. His expression swiftly closed off, a mask of anger to cover the way those words cut deeply into his heart. 

“So you would rather give your life up for a man who doesn’t even spare you a second thought? I thought you had more self respect than that, Aeron.”

Now it was Aeron’s turn to be hurt. “It's not about self respect, Davos. It's about honor, and what is owed. I am a knight , I must be honorable. My Lord Uncle allowed me a place at his home, I owe him my service. What about you? Would you not feel bad leaving Benjicot? Leaving Lady Alysanne?” Aeron paused, hoping Davos would see reason. He saw only anger in the raven's eyes.

“You love them, they are your family. Benjicot, your Lady Aunt and your Lord Uncle are the only family you have left, now.”

Aeron’s jaw snapped shut and he regretted the words almost as soon as he’d said them. Davos’ anger slipped away to a terrifyingly empty expression, and the other man stood to begin collecting his clothes.

The knight stood, and took a step towards his lover, an apology on the tip of his tongue. However, Davos turned, his tunic balled up in his fist as he raised it to point at Aeron. “ Do not, ” he hissed. “Do not use my sister’s death in this. ”

Aeron floundered. “I didn’t mean-” he tried. But the widening of Davos’ eyes and the flaring of his nostrils told Aeron that anything further would fall on deaf ears. Davos shook his head, and turned again to dress himself. 

Aeron began gathering his clothes, the full moon the only light they had in the small meadow. The Bracken dressed quickly, and turned to see Davos stalking off towards where he had tied his horse. 

“ Davos ,” Aeron pleaded. The taller man paused in his stride, but did not turn around.

Aeron would take it. “Be careful, and come back alive.” 

Davos did not respond. He only continued towards his horse, and Aeron watched as his lover was swallowed by the darkness of the forest, back to Raventree Hall, and tomorrow he would travel to the center of the storm that is the coming war. 

Chapter Text

“Oh, and it’s too late to change your mind now, You got scared, boy, and I got gone, Now you failed, and there's no way to turn back time, You had your chance, boy, I tried.” -La Dispute

**

“ BRACKEN!”

When Aeron heard Davos’ angry voice roar out his House one fall afternoon several weeks later, his heart dropped to his knees. He could feel the terror creeping into him, and he shoved it down so viciously that he thought Davos would be proud of him. He turned on his heel, and stepped up in front of his kin to look at the incoming Blackwoods. 

The sight of Davos nearly took his breath away. 

His lover’s beautiful face was tense. Davos only had eyes for him, dismissing any threat that Aeron’s kin may pose. In an instant Aeron took in everything about the other man; the slight limp as he walked over the terrain, the grandioseness of his gestures, the exhaustion etched deep into every line of his body. Aeron’s heart clenched and his stomach twisted at the evidence that Davos was being run ragged by his Lord Uncle. 

At least Lord Blackwood had sent others with Davos. If he had shown up alone, Aeron knew his kin would try to kill him.

“Put. The boundary stones. Back,” Davos spat as he continued forward.

“We didn’t move them,” Aeron insisted, stepping swiftly forward to halt Davos’ advance. Practiced hatred Aeron, you’re a Bracken and you hate Blackwoods with all your heart. 

His lover continued forward to meet him, gesturing towards the other Bracken at large, “Oh, did they move themselves then? Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass?” 

Aeron did not understand what was going on. He wished their first meeting in nearly two moons was not this. He had imagined their meeting many times in the weeks since Davos' departure, how the Bracken would apologize for his words, try to soothe Davos' heartbreak, confess that he wanted, desperately, to leave with the raven. Aeron had been scared and panicked when Davos had suggested it the first time, but Aeron has had time to think about it.

He would go anywhere Davos asked him to.

He did not understand what was happening, why Davos seemed so angry.

His lover (if he could still call him that, by the Seven, their last fight-) continued to saunter forward, expertly hiding the limp in the gracefulness of his movements, but Aeron knew this man like he knew himself. 

There was something wrong. 

In the pause as Davos stood still, Aeron took another step forward and leaned towards him. “The assize at Riverrun-”

“ Fuck the assize,” Davos exclaimed, eyes closing in exhaustion. The Bracken could read the weariness in every inch of the raven standing opposite him, and it made his insides turn to ice. “And fuck you,” Davos continued in a defeated voice as he opened his blue eyes to look into Aeron’s green ones. “This is our land.”

The tone in Davos’ voice cut Aeron to the core. He knew that the insult to himself held a much deeper meaning. It contained every feeling that Davos wanted to vent to Aeron, stuck behind the necessary mask of old hatred. The Bracken knight glanced at the Blackwood men behind Davos, and knew they needed to continue the charade, no matter how badly Aeron wanted to whisk Davos away to soothe every hurt he had laid at the raven’s feet. 

“It's Bracken land.” Aeron turned to leave at that, not wanting to cause a fight between their Houses today. 

But Aeron was also hurt. He was angry with Davos. Angry that his lover seemed to have forgotten that he had asked Aeron to run away with him. Angry that this was their first meeting in weeks and Davos did nothing but spit insults and feed into their family’s feud. 

Hurt that Davos had been back from Dragonstone for over two weeks, and had not even bothered to meet Aeron at their usual meeting place. As soon as the estimated time had passed, Aeron went to their meadow every single night, waiting. He’d heard several days ago that the Blackwood party had returned from Dragonstone as he was drinking at the Inn by Red Fork. The Blackwood party had passed through a while ago, he had heard the barkeep say. 

Every night Aeron had waited for Davos to meet him, and he had not. So, he was hurt, and angry, and he didn’t understand. 

This led to a rather stupid decision on Aeron’s part. As he walked away from his lover, he uttered the words, “Whore Queen.”

“What did you say?” Aeron stopped in his tracks at the unfettered rage in Davos’ voice. The knight knew he’d done it now. There may be no returning from this. But the eyes of both their kin were watching them, and they had loyalties to ensure, and feuds to feed into. He nodded to himself and did the only thing he felt he could in that moment. He turned around with a mask of anger and resentment to face Davos Blackwood, the man he loved and a member of a House that wouldn’t hesitate to kill him or any of his kin.

“Your false Queen Rhaenyra is a whore with nothing but bastards for Heirs.”

The change in Davos’ face was instant. His mask of anger crumbled into an expression so hurt that Aeron almost leapt forward to cradle his lover’s face in front of all their kin. 

But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Your Uncle declared for Aegon, did he.” It was more a statement of fact than a question with the resigned and disappointed way Davos said it.

Aeron could see how deeply his lover was hurting, and he still did not understand. 

“Well then,” Davos began in a tone that Aeron had not heard from him before, and started stalking forward, glancing once more at Aeron's kin. “Let me tell you . Aegon Targaryen is No. True. King.” Every word drove Blackwood forward until they were nearly nose to nose.

Aeron felt very out of his depth. Politics was never his strong suit, it was always Davos’. The raven knew how to twist his words, how to get a rise out of nearly everyone. Knew when to drip his words sugary sweet and when to use them to twist the knife.

The taller man continued, “Just as you are no. True. Knight. ” They were so close now Aeron could feel his breath on his face, against his lips. He wanted so badly to close the distance between them. 

Davos’ arms darted upwards.

“You’re both craven ,” a shove, “ little ,” shove, “ cunts! ” And with that Davos leaned his whole weight into pushing Aeron back and away. 

He had not used his words to cut into Aeron so quickly in years. 

Aeron’s distant cousin behind him leaned his weight forward to keep him upright, and fell to the ground in his stead.

Bracken drew his sword and leveled it at Blackwood. The boys behind either of them lurched forward to be at the ready incase more violence broke out. The other man’s hand went instinctively to the dagger strapped to his hip. 

Aeron was terrified. He and Davos usually played up their animosity towards each other, to the point that both their kin had deemed them rivals. They’d done this to prevent any suspicion that they actually quite liked each other, first as friends, then as more than that. They had always been intense with each other. In competition for who could climb trees faster, who was stronger, who could hit harder. Who could make a mess of the other first.

They had never meant the words they’d said to each other in these interactions before. But today Aeron knew that Davos meant them. 

The rogue Blackwood began giggling with a hysteric thread to him. Then he sauntered forward until the tip of Aeron’s sword rested against his chest, where a lifetime ago Aeron had been caressing as they laid together. 

“You wouldn’t dare, ” Davos snarled.

It was such a loaded phrase. Aeron wouldn’t dare to harm a man so close to the Lord of Raventree Hall. He wouldn’t dare to start violence with the Blackwoods.

He wouldn’t dare to harm the man he loved.

Davos was right, Aeron was a craven little cunt. 

Aeron was attempting to convince himself to do the unthinkable and truly raise his sword to Davos when he heard it. Hooves in the distance, coming from the north.

And large wings flapping in the wind. 

Davos had convinced Queen Rhaenyra to send them a dragon rider.

Aeron’s eyes widened and darted up to search the skies for the beast. Davos’ cousin Benjicot and his contingent of knights came around the bend just as Aeron spotted the magnificent creature descending towards them. 

His cousins behind him grabbed at him to pull him away in fear, trying desperately to get away from the threat of dragon fire. But Aeron stood his ground, and looked back to Davos. He knew that proximity to Davos would be their best bet at safety. Whatever dragon rider they’d sent wouldn’t risk killing the Blackwoods just to get at a patrol of Brackens. 

Benjicot and his contingent pulled up not far behind Davos, and the dragon swooped out of the sky to land on the ground beside them, its rider sitting up to get a better view of the altercation. 

By the Seven it was Princess Baela Targaryen. 

His arm had fallen to his side, eyes wide staring at the terrifying beast that had descended from the sky.

Davos’ eyes never left Aeron. Both of their kin stared at the dragon from the moment it was spotted. But Davos never turned away, staring at Aeron with eyes that shone with too many emotions for Aeron to name. 

“What is the matter, cousin,” Benjicot called. He leaned forward upon his horse, either to get a better look at Aeron and his kin or to get just that much further away from the Big Fuck Off Dragon, Aeron didn’t know.

Davos smirked as his eyes stayed cemented to Aeron. “Nothing, Ben. Just a small argument over a few wandering cattle and some loose stones, is all.”

The Blackwood Heir’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flickered between Aeron and his cousin, as if trying to decipher the truth of the statement. The younger boy nodded. “See that the Bracken retrieve their cattle before day’s end. Or perhaps our guests would like a taste of Bracken beef.”

At that Princess Baela Targaryen’s dragon made a chilling clicking noise, shifting its neck to scent the air. Princess Baela’s smile was as sharp as knives.

Aeron swallowed hard.

“We'll have the cattle back to our pastures before long, Blackwood,” the knight caved. His eyes bounced between the Very Large Dragon, the Blackwood Heir, and Davos. He pursed his lips, and his eyes found Davos’ once more. Aeron nodded slightly to the taller man.

Davos nodded minutely back.

The knight sheathed his sword, and turned to his cowering kin and began shouting orders to get the herd moving back towards their Keep. The Princess and her dragon leapt into the air, and took off. They circled a few times, rising higher and higher with each wing flap until eventually no one on the ground could make them out. 

Baela Targaryen had not said a single word, but she was probably the most terrifying woman Aeron had ever met.

The Bracken collected their cattle as quickly as they could and made their way back home under the watchful eyes of Benjicot and Davos Blackwood. Neither moved to leave. As the knight of the patrol, Aeron took up the position between the threat and his kin, being the last one out of sight. He took one last look back towards his lover, drinking in the sight of him before turning around to leave. They would need to hurry back to Stone Hedge to inform his Uncle of the newest development

Chapter Text

“The life may leave my lungs, but my heart will stay with you.” -Bring Me The Horizon

Davos Blackwood was a man of many talents. He was quick and light on his feet, he could string a bow faster than everyone but his Aunt Alysanne, he was an absolute terror in any fight, be it a spar or not. He liked the attention others gave him for being good at things, liked when his jokes got a round of laughter, liked when his Uncle said he had a silver tongue that could charm the king out of his crown.

Most importantly, he was good at hating and killing Brackens. 

His kin liked that the best.

He and his twin sister Raella were two of a kind. When they were young, they would run around terrorizing everyone in Raventree Hall, no matter who they were. They struck one after the other, like lightning and thunder in the worst of the storm, like hoof beats on cobblestone, like a steady heartbeat. She matched him in everything, strength, speed, wit. Together they were unstoppable.

One thing Davos did not like was lying. He hated the way it tasted like ash on his tongue, hated the way it made his heart ache, hated the way that he could do it oh so easily.  

So, he didn't lie. Most everyone knew it. His words were taken at face value and rarely did anyone ever look into his words to ensure that he continued not lying. 

But he was the biggest liar in all the realm. 

After all, he's kept the secret that Aeron Bracken was his best friend since they were seven. 

He never knew why he kept the secret the first year. After all, his Uncle was always telling him he had to make friends. Raella had even agreed not to tell either when she eventually followed him out to the woods one day a year after he and Aeron had met. She was the one who’d pointed out that they had not exchanged House names. When Davos had proudly proclaimed he was a Blackwood, Aeron had shrunk back, and that just would not do. 

It took some coaxing, but eventually Aeron told them that he was a Bracken. But the other boy had been so terrified, Davos could do nothing except tell him that it didn’t matter what House they hailed from, they would be best friends. Raella had immediately jumped in to help comfort the other boy, and took his hand in her’s. She thanked Aeron for being her brother’s friend, even if he was stinky and rude . The Bracken laughed tearfully, and Raella promised not to tell their Lord Uncle or anyone else about the friendship.

She’d even covered for Davos sneaking out to go see Aeron some days, when others would go looking for him. 

And now she was gone. 

Davos’ heart ached all the time, now. He was always looking over his shoulder, expecting her to be there with a joke or to make a face at him. Imagined he’d see her long hair disappear around a corner, smell the citrus scented oil she liked to use to make it shine at the oddest times. More than once he’d thought he’d heard her laughter in the wind. 

Is this what it was like, to be haunted? 

He didn’t know. But he’d be haunted gladly if it meant he kept getting glimpses of her.

Maybe he belonged at Harrenhal instead of Raventree. 

He missed her. 

His cousin Ben and Aunt Aly tried their best, but Davos had been surly and closed off ever since Raella’s funeral. Depressed Raella would call him. In mourning he would answer back. 

Sometimes he’d talk to her. His late Lady Aunt used to tell them after their parents died that the weirwoods held the spirits of all those who followed the Old Gods, and that their whispers could be heard if one listened hard enough.

That’s part of why he found himself in the godswood in the middle of the night. 

“I’m going to Dragonstone in the morning, Ella. Uncle thinks I’ll be able to appeal to Her Grace for help. Said that her oldest son and his betrothed were around our age, and encouraged me to ‘do what I do best,’ whatever that means.” Davos sighed. “Make friends, I suppose is what he meant.” 

He looked up into the branches of the weirwood he’d sat beneath and ground his teeth. He’d accidentally taken Aeron’s tunic in his haste to flee their argument, and the damn thing still smelled like him. 

That was the other reason he found himself out here. 

“I know there is war coming. I know Aeron’s Uncle will declare for Aegon. I just hope… well. I don’t know what I hope for.” Davos tipped his head back until it hit the tree behind him, and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply. The smell of the weirwood sap was powerful in his nose, and it mixed pleasantly with the scent of Aeron.

He hoped wherever she was, Raella would whisper back to him through the trees. 

A twig snapped close by, and it nearly startled Davos out of his skin. His eyes shot open, and his hand flew to his hip for his dagger. Froze as he met his cousin Ben’s sheepish grin, and let out a breath, settling back against the tree.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that Ben, shit.”

“Sorry,” the younger boy replied. He tilted his head, and furrowed his brow. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“What are you doing out here so late,” Davos shot back sourly. 

“Fair enough,” his cousin shrugged and moved to sit beside him against the tree. 

The two sat in silence for a long moment before Benjicot opened his mouth. “She wouldn’t want you to waste away, you know.”

The older man snorted. “She’d be so pissed at me,” he agreed. 

Ben hummed. “She was always quick to anger. Especially with you.”

Closing his eyes, Davos huffed. “She’d say it was because she knew I was smarter than whatever stupid thing I’d done.” A small smile grew on his lips. “She always wanted me to be a better man.”

The Blackwood Heir let the silence hang in the air for a moment. “You are a good man, Davos. Even if you act like a rabid animal most days.” The younger leaned over and bumped their shoulders together.

His only answer was the rustling of the leaves in the wind. 

They sat there without speaking for a very long time before Ben sighed and stood. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You have a long few days of travel ahead of you.”

Davos acquiesced and allowed his cousin to help him up. They wandered back into the Keep and Ben walked him directly to his bedroom door. The older man said nothing as he left his cousin in the hallway, and closed his door quietly. He listened as Ben’s footsteps echoed down the hall, and slid down to sit huddled against his door. 

He closed his eyes as a tear escaped down his cheek, and hoped the next time they opened the last few months had been just a terrible dream.

Chapter Text

“And don’t you know I want to help you, but I don’t know how? Are you really okay?” -Sleep Token

They’d been on the road for five days, and Davos was eager to finally get to their destination. The two men with him perked up the closer they got to Dragonstone, and Davos felt himself do the same.

His Uncle had sent two of his best men with him. House Blackwood didn’t have fancy Knights of the Seven like those who worshiped the new gods. They just had warriors sworn to the Old Gods. All three of them had paid their respects at the Hearttree before leaving. 

Triston was a burly man, with broad shoulders and a beard down to his chest. He’d been the one to take Davos and Raella to the armory as children and help them pick out weapons that suited them. Davos had found that he quite liked using a dagger, as it played well with how nimble he was. Raella had fallen in love with an ax that was the same size as she was.

She had quickly been taken under Triston’s tutelage, since he too fought with an ax.

Davos had ended up with Jack as an instructor. He was a beanpole of a man, with lean muscle packed onto his slim frame. He taught Davos how to properly wield the dagger, how to use his opponent’s weight against them, how to duck, dodge and weave around any weapon he might find himself against.  

(They had both stayed at Raella’s funeral pyre for a long time. They and Davos had stayed the longest, until the pyre burned down to embers and then until they had cooled to nothing but ash. Together they’d wrangled Davos back to the mess hall, where all three of them had gotten outrageously drunk.

Before they’d left for Dragonstone, Triston had pressed Raella’s ax into Davos’ hands while they stood amongst the godswood. They’d traded off weapons every once in a while, just in case, they’d used to say. They’d liked to be unpredictable, and being able to switch around weapons had been an intriguing concept. Davos had held his sister’s weapon in his hands, run his fingers over the worn smooth leather grip, over the weirwood leaves carved into the weirwood handle, over the House Blackwood crest stamped into the ax head, and nearly wept. 

Now he carried twice the weapons and half of himself.)

Davos had never been this far from home before, never seen Blackwater Bay. He’d been to Ironman’s Bay, so he assumed it would be similar. 

They had plans to hail a ship from one of the smaller towns on the coast this afternoon, hoping that catching a ride to Dragonstone wouldn’t be too troublesome. Most of the area was loyal to Queen Rhaenyra, so they should be able to get across to the island unimpeded. 

“You ever been on a ship before, kid,” asked Triston from on his horse in front of him.

“I’ve been on a ship before. My father took Raella and I to the Iron Islands once.” The flash of sympathy and sadness in the older man’s eyes almost made Davos regret bringing up his dead family. 

But if he didn’t remember them, who would? History certainly wouldn’t.

“ I’ve never been on a ship before,” Jack said from behind him. 

“You’ve been on a boat before!”

“A boat and a ship are very different, Triston.”

Davos rolled his eyes at the men’s banter.

The Blackwood had been quiet for most of the trip, allowing the other two to fill the silences as they saw fit. With the near lawlessness that the Riverlands had fallen into, it was best to travel in groups and through the less traveled roads. It had made their journey longer, but safer. Davos thought his Uncle might have been a bit overprotective, sending two of the best with him. But, he supposed, war was imminent, and he was going to see the Queen.

The younger man sighed and settled in for a long ride. 

—-

Once they’d made it onto Dragonstone, Davos couldn’t help how his eyes widened. The castle was bigger than Raventree Hall and Riverrun combined. It had spires climbing high up into the sky, taller than any building he’d ever seen. There were knights and servants running to and fro, dock workers unloading and loading up ships in turn, the air tasted of salt on his tongue, and there was an actual dragon flying in the sky. 

Aeron would love it here , he thought, before crushing it viciously.

Jack almost ran right into him, still craning his neck to stare at the beast. Davos didn’t blame him. Triston was trying to appear more professional by keeping his face forward, but his eyes kept straying upward. 

The Queen’s Guard that came to meet them smirked.

“You never quite get used to them,” he called back. 

Davos hummed. He’d have to try, he couldn’t sit around being struck dumb every time he saw a dragon while he was at Dragonstone. 

“That’s Crown Prince Jacaerys and his dragon Vermax. They like to race around the island and try to beat Princess Rhaenys and Meleys' record for how fast they could take a lap.”

Triston in front of him made a noise halfway between a laugh and a gasp. “It appears young men everywhere are always trying to outdo their elders.”

The knight glanced back to the three of them with mirth in his eyes. “It seems so.”

Davos swallowed. 

The knight showed them to their rooms, and each was bigger than his own at Raventree. Triston and Jack’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. 

“Supper will be brought to you within the hour, along with the times when Her Grace will be available for Court. Should you have any questions, feel free to ask. All the Queen's Guard and servants know their way around the castle, so if you get lost please ask.” 

Davos turned back to the knight. “Thank you, Ser.”

Triston and Jack echoed him absently, and the man made his exit. The three of them each claimed a room, and after exploring them, they reconvened on the couches in the living space that connected them. They turned to him expectantly.

Davos would never get used to people deferring to him for instructions. 

He sighed and rubbed at his face. 

He had a few goals with this trip. Swear Fealty to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name in the name of House Blackwood, and pledge their House to the eventual War of Succession. Appeal to Her Grace for help routing the bandits and other criminals that had made the Riverlands their home. Build rapport and friendliness with Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and his betrothed Princess Baela Targaryen. 

Davos turned and looked out the window. The island was beautiful, he could admit. They’d been given a view of the Bay, what they could see of the water was dark, roiling angrily in the distance as the sun set, as if it could sense the oncoming violence. They’d already heard that the Velaryons of Driftmark and the Sea Snake himself were setting up a blockade of King’s Landing. 

Taking a deep breath, he began, “We’ll approach Her Grace at the next Court gathering, pledge our House to her, and if she gives me the time of day, I’ll bring up receiving aid.” He turned back to the other two. “In the meantime, I want to explore.”

Triston started. “Are you sure? We’ve no idea what has been happening the last few days.” 

Surprisingly, Jack nodded his agreement. “We may be guests of the Queen, and we may be from a vassal House, but that doesn’t mean you’re not in danger, Davos.”

He shrugged in response. He didn’t know when, but his leg had begun bouncing. They were right, of course. He would need to be careful, but caution wouldn’t help him here. “They didn’t say we were confined to our rooms or anything. I figured if one of you wanted to come with me, and one wanted to stay in the rooms, we could switch off.”

The silence stretched, and Davos shifted uncomfortably.

“That’s… actually a good idea. I’ll go with you,” Triston said. He and Jack looked at each other for a long moment before Jack sighed. 

“Never get to do anything fun….” 

That pulled a small smile to Davos’ lips. “You can come with me to explore outside tomorrow.” 

The other man perked up considerably.

A knock sounded at their door, and their supper was delivered, along with the promised time table. It looked like midday would be the earliest Her Grace would be available.

Once their food was finished, Triston stood and stretched. The large man strapped his ax to his hip, and Davos ensured he had his dagger and Raella’s ax. Then they set out to explore the castle. 

They wandered for a while, absorbing the grandioseness of the castle. Eventually they found themselves in a small inner courtyard as the night grew dark. Triston sat on the bench as Davos inspected the frail trees attempting to survive. Torches lit the hallways, but this area was tucked away enough that it was lit mostly by the weak moonlight. 

The older man sighed quietly as he leaned back on the bench. “Davos…” he called quietly. “How are you? We haven’t spoken much lately.” 

The Blackwood felt himself tense up, but he did not turn around. He hated that question. “I’m fine, Triston, thank you for your concern.”

Sharp eyes landed on his back. “You’re a shit liar, kid. Pull the other one.” 

Sometimes Davos hated that this man knew Raella and him so well. But he was also one of the only people who knew his sister like he did. He knew how groggy she was in the morning before breakfast, how she liked to watch the blacksmiths work, how she loved to climb trees and that she stuttered when she was truly upset. 

There were very few people who knew Raella the way the two of them did.

He’d already pushed one of them away in Aeron.

Davos’ shoulders slumped in defeat. He still did not turn around. “She should be the one appealing to the Queen.”

“She would have loved this place,” Triston agreed. 

“I miss her,” he said in a small voice.

“I miss her, too.” 

They let the silence hang between them. After a while, Triston got up and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Come on, it's late, we should be getting back.”

Davos nodded, and they wandered back to their rooms. They only lost their way twice, and had to ask for directions. Once they’d returned, the three of them headed to bed. The raven stared at the ceiling for a long, long time before exhaustion finally claimed him.

Chapter Text

“It's easy to forget who you are.”

Davos rose with the sun. It's something he just couldn’t help. Ever since he was a child, once the first rays of light entered his window, he was up and rolling. It persisted no matter how much he worked himself into exhaustion the night before. 

Raella was the opposite, she rose with the moon, and could sleep until the sun was at its peak. She would wander the godswood at night when most were asleep and she was restless. But she could rarely let Davos out of her sight that long while there were things to do, and she was nothing if not determined to be seen.

Granted, he could hardly let her out of his own sight, always looking over his shoulder to see what mischief she'd gotten up to.

So, neither of them ended up sleeping well, or for long, and it had only gotten worse in the months since Raella died. Davos had used to tell others that he was out scouting or mapping his way through the marshes or venturing into the surrounding towns just to try to find his own way back home.

In truth, he spent a lot of that time with Aeron. He still did those things, tended to wander into the marshes when he was in a particularly sour mood, walked into the towns when he was bored and Aeron was stuck at Stone Hedge, scouted the borders between their land and Bracken land when he was curious about where Aeron might be. His sister came with him about two thirds of the time, sometimes to meet Aeron with him and the three of them would wander and spar, and sometimes to memorize the lay of their land herself. 

Everyone used to assume they spent the whole time together. They were twins, they’d entered the world together, they spent most of their time in the Hall together even if they were doing different things. But while they were brother and sister and loved each other fiercely, they wanted time to themselves as well. And so, they’d wandered out into Blackwood lands, each going a different direction to sate their own curiosity.

Davos wished he’d spent more time with her. He never asked her what she got up to when she was alone, too caught up in his secret friendship with Aeron or proving himself to their Uncle or rolling in the mud. He knew she’d take her ax with her, and whale on some of the trees deep in the marshes when she was angry, bringing back wood for the blacksmith’s fires, knew she constantly argued with the older men in their Hall and they would warn each other when she was in a sour mood, knew that every warrior of their House respected her and her skills fiercely.

The other boys used to tease her about being married off to the Brackens as a bargaining chip for peace. Those taunts stopped being told to her face once she beat them all into the ground, and they stopped in private when she got older and more beautiful.

(That joke had only been told in Davos’ presence without Raella there once. He broke the other boy’s nose and dislocated his own left middle finger. Jack had broken up the fight and no one ever mentioned it to his Lord Uncle or his sister.)

Still, despite trying his best to follow in his sister’s footsteps and sleep til the sun rose past the horizon, he woke at the first hint of light. Throwing an arm over his face, Davos counted to ten, took a deep breath, and counted to twenty. Then he got up, dressed in loose pants, and began running through exercises with Raella’s ax. He didn’t want to go wandering around an unfamiliar castle this early, so he used the open space in his room. 

Besides, Jack and Triston would skin him if he went without them.

Once he'd gone through the exercises twice, he decided to get ready to meet the Queen. He dressed swiftly, stepping out into the shared area to see Jack and Triston both up and about, Triston with an apple in hand and Jack with a hunk of bread. They both nodded at him and continued to eat their breakfast. 

Davos grabbed an apple of his own, and took a small bite. “Once you’re ready Jack, we can find our way to the Throne Room.”

“Ready to go when you are,” Jack said around the last bit of bread in his mouth. The Blackwood nodded, and turned to Triston. 

The stout man swallowed, and said “I had plans to wander the stables and training area, try and strike up a rapport with the Queensguard and the other knights.” 

Surprise flickered through Jack’s eyes, but Davos knew better. Triston was incredibly social, and one of the Blackwood’s most skilled warriors. Measuring himself against the skills of the Queensguard would help build the relationship between the Crown and their House, as well as give them an in with one of the social circles around the Queen. 

House Blackwood having an in with the knights also allows them to potentially better protect both themselves and the Crown. With the looming War of Succession, it would be imperative that the Queen had loyal men and Houses around her. Most men would struggle to follow a woman’s rule, but not their House, nor most of the Northern Houses. 

Those who followed the ways of the Old Gods knew better than to follow just anyone. Just as well, many in the Riverlands remembered the young girl who had come to their homes during her marriage tour, and Davos’ own Uncle and many of the older men and women spoke about how charming and knowledgeable the then Crown Princess had been. King Viserys had been a beloved ruler, and his sweet daughter had the love of the smallfolk and the smaller Houses. 

Queen Rhaenyra would be beloved, just as her father was. 

Davos nodded at Triston. “A good plan. Try and see if you can get any actual information–” 

“I know how to fish for information, kid. Been doing it since before you were born,” Triston cut him off. 

The young man huffed a small laugh. 

Jack rolled his eyes, and tapped his finger against the table. “You’re not that old. Come on, let’s go see about this court business.”

Davos placed his apple back onto the low table. It only had one bite out of it.

Neither Jack nor Triston made mention of it.

Together, he and Jack did their best to find their way to the throne room. After a few wrong turns, they’d finally found it. The room was large, with a high ceiling and the same dark stone that made up the rest of the castle, lit by the vaulted windows behind the throne and the elaborate candelabras scattered strategically throughout the Hall. The Throne was something to behold as well, large and grand, carved painstakingly out of the natural structure that had likely been there well before even the Faith of the Seven. 

People had begun to gather in preparation for Her Grace, likely all wanting to snatch her attention for their own issues, just as he was. Davos and Jack shared a glance, and took up a place about halfway to the throne against one wall, out of the way of the servants and political vipers both. 

It was not long before the hall was teeming with Lords and Ladies, and the heralds announcing the arrival of Queen Rhaenyra, First of her Name, Protector of the Realm. 

Davos struggled a bit to see past the crowd, but once he’d found a spot, he could hardly look away. The Queen was regal in her crown and dress. Her beauty was accentuated by the flickering light of the candles, leaning into the Dragon Queen title many of the Smallfolk had been calling her. She did not smile, eyes sweeping over the crowd with a calculating glint. As she sat upon the throne, the Hall held its breath. The Crown Prince stood just to his mother’s right, and Princess Baela stood with him, Prince Daemon to his wife’s left. 

The royal herald cleared his throat, and read the docket of items the Queen would be addressing. Any House representative was welcome to step up and swear their allegiance to Her Grace before digging into any further requests of the Crown. 

It was a smart move, forcing Houses to declare their allegiance before being able to discuss wanting anything. Treaties and trade could be negotiated later, what the Queen needed was allies to fight for her right to rule. Any House that waited to declare after getting what they wanted would be regarded with suspicion first, respect second. Houses that declared their loyalty before anything else would be held in higher regard by Her Grace. 

Favoritism at work. 

Davos made his way to the front while the herald spoke, brushing past all the others clamoring to get closer. He’d dressed in his finest clothes, House Blackwood crest prominent on the pin of his cloak, his House colors matching the blood red and raven feather black of House Targaryen. As the herald opened the floor for House representatives, Davos stepped into the cleared space. 

“Davos Blackwood, of House Blackwood, Your Grace,” he called out. Queen Rhaenyra and her family focused on him, and Davos knelt, with his head bowed. “House Blackwood declares their loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Davos stayed kneeling, and waited for the Queen's response. 

“Thank you for your loyalty, Davos Blackwood. I remember well the closeness of the Riverlands and the Crown. You are welcome to stay as long as you may, and feel free to seek out any members of the Small Counsel or Queensguard for any assistance.”

The Blackwood raised his gaze to the Queen and said “Thank you, Your Grace, that is a generous offer.”

Then he stood, and melted back into the crowd, as another House representative stepped up to declare loyalty for the Queen. 

And so on it went. Three smaller Houses declared their loyalty to the Crown after him, House Oakheart of Old Oak in the Reach, and House Stokeworth and House Brune of the Dyre Den, both of the Crownlands. He made sure to remember their Houses, though his concerns lay solely with his House and the Riverlands. Others had come to petition the Queen, and others still to simply see her in person, and gain their own measure of Her Grace. Every time a Lord spoke, Davos waited for the moment any of them slipped up and spoke too disrespectfully. He knew that the Rogue Prince was more than willing to take the heads of any and all who spoke ill of his wife, the tale of Vaemond Velaryon losing his head reaching every corner of the realm. 

That was assuming she didn’t take their heads herself. 

Once the allotted time was finished, and the Queen whisked away to tend to other matters with her Small Counsel, the Throne Room broke out into its own political nightmare. From his spot upon the raised dias Davos could see deals being made, lies and poison dripping from honey sweet mouths. More than one person gave him a sideways look, likely wondering what he or his House could offer them. 

He made sure his face was set in an unapproachable scowl.

He hated politics.

Unfortunately for him, politics loved him. 

Finally after he and Jack had to abandon their spot for fear of one of the Ladies approaching him, Davos decided he’d had enough. He made eye contact with Jack, and jerked his head in the direction of the door. 

Once they’d managed to stumble out of the viper’s nest, Jack clapped Davos on the shoulder. “Smart move, stepping in to be the first to declare. And the Queen remembered our House. Bodes well.”

The raven gave Jack a half smile. “I know what I’m doing most days, I don’t know where everyone got the idea that I don’t.” 

The taller man snorted, but didn’t respond. He turned to the nearest guard and asked, “How do we get to the training yard from here?”

Davos was starting to get the hang of the layout of the castle, and with the directions they set off to find Triston.

In the training yard, Triston was not the only warrior or knight from other Houses that had come to find a challenge. 

He was, however, one of the only ones successful in actually getting to spar. As Davos and Jack approached, They watched as Triston faced off with a rather young looking knight. They used training weapons, the knight's sword and Triston’s ax dulled to the point of bruising rather than cutting. 

They’d attracted a bit of a crowd, Queensguard and knights from not only House Targaryen but the other visiting Houses stopping to watch.

The two men circled each other, vying for who would make the first move. 

Finally thrusting forward with his sword, the young knight lunged for Triston’s left, forcing the other man to side step to the right. The knight’s stance was too wide, Davos noted. 

Triston did as well, it seemed. Instead of allowing the younger to gain his footing back, he stepped inside the other man’s guard and with his left foot, kicked the leading foot out from underneath him, and swung forward brutally with his ax, landing a hit to the knight’s rib cage that Davos knew from experience would bruise before day’s end. 

The knight went down with a pained grunt, and Davos winced in sympathy.

Jack snorted, and the crowd around them clapped and cheered. An older knight walked up to the two men as Triston helped up the other. Davos started forward as well, hearing the older knight saying, “--you have to keep your guard up. We’ll work on your reaction time more this week.” 

“Your stance was too wide,” Davos said to the young knight as they approached. The other man scowled at him, and Triston nudged Davos. He could see the man’s eyes screaming manners!

He stuck his hand out towards the younger knight. “Davos Blackwood.”

Rolling his eyes, he brushed past Davos and walked away. 

As his hand fell back to his side, the older knight that had been observing turned to the three of them. “Ignore him, he’s sour that he’s been knocked down a peg or two. Thanks for that, by the way. Kid needed that.” 

Triston chuckled. “My pleasure, I train some of the men at Raventree. I can tell when they need to get knocked down to learn a lesson.” 

Davos turned to get a look at the man, and realized it was Ser Steffon Darklyn, current Lord Commander of the Queenguard. 

Well, Triston was always one to go for the big fish.

Jack chuckled and elbowed Davos’ side. “Triston is very good at that, eh, Davos?”

The younger man sighed, looking heavenward. The three other men laughed lightly. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn,” he said, offering his hand to Davos. 

Returning his handshake, Davos said “Davos Blackwood. You’ve met Triston, and the jester over there is Jack.” 

“A pleasure, Lord Blackwood.”

“Oh no, just Davos please, Lord Commander.” Davos cringed internally. He was so far out of the line of succession that it was very rare for others to call him Lord at all. 

The Lord Commander’s eyes sparkled. “You are a guest here to pledge loyalty to Her Grace for your House, are you not? You shall receive the same respect as all the rest of the Lords and Ladies of Her Grace’s allies.” 

The raven squirmed a bit. He’d grown up with most of the people around him knowing he hated being called Lord, and many forgot he was even in line for Raventree in the first place. 

“Yes, well, We’ve just finished up in the throne room, and were looking to explore the castle and island some. Do you have any suggestions on where to start?” 

A gleam entered the older man’s eye as he cracked a smile. “Oh, I have several….”

Chapter Text

“I felt there was no point in telling anyone what was happening inside of me.”

Upon Lord Commander Darklyn’s suggestion, Davos and Jack made their way down to the small beach that was accessible from the Keep. On their travels, they hadn’t had much time to stop and rest, so this was the first time Davos was able to sit down and truly take in the sight of Blackwater Bay. He could scarcely believe they weren’t at the end of the world, the way the dark water stretched as far as the eye could see, mingling with the angry storm clouds on the horizon.

The wind whipped past them, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed and blowing Davos’ hair into his eyes. Jack hummed from beside him.

Davos knelt down and scooped a handful of sand. It reminded him of the sandy banks of the river and creeks that flowed through their lands, a bit darker and coarser than theirs, but familiar all the same. It was mostly undisturbed, with the exception of a few footprints leading off around the craggy rocks to their left. The beach was small, secluded from the commotion of the docks where the castle’s supplies came in. 

As he let the sand sift through his fingers, Davos looked up to the sky, and was greeted by the distant figure of a dragon taking small loops and barrel-rolling through the heavens. 

Jack wandered towards where the water lapped gently, the wind lifting the taller man’s brown hair. He sat down just close enough to stay out of the waves, one leg outstretched and elbow propped up on his knee. Davos followed slowly, eyes twitching from the horizon to the dragon and its rider. 

The Blackwood dropped down next to Jack, and allowed the silence to consume them, listening to the waves and the call of gulls layered over the faint roar of the dragon.

“You underestimate yourself,” the taller man said suddenly. Davos stiffened slightly, stomach sinking. 

Jack was his instructor, and therefore they spent a lot of time together. Jack had been there when both his parents died, when he and Raella had been only seven and were officially taken under their Lord Uncle’s care. He guided Davos in learning how to wield his weapon, was there the first time he and Raella had a true fight. The warrior was there when Davos became a warrior himself, under the blood red leaves of the Hearttree, alongside his sister and Aunt. 

Comforted Davos the first time he had taken a man’s life.

Jack was the first person to be concerned about Davos just because he was himself. Not because he was his Lord’s nephew, not because he was Raella’s brother, not because of who his father was. Jack worried about Davos because he was just a boy who needed help. 

This led to him telling Davos when he wasn’t being true to himself.

“You think you’re unworthy of your position,” Jack was saying. “That you have nothing to contribute.” He peered at Davos from the corner of his eye. 

“But that’s not true. You’ve worked to gain the respect of the men of your house, the respect of the smallfolk of the Riverlands. You think that others listen to you because of your position.” Jack shifted to knock his shoulder into Davos’. “They listen to you because you care. You care so much it hurts.”

The younger man ground his teeth together, brows furrowing. He didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to hear what Jack thought of him. 

“You dismiss the respect others show you because you think you’re undeserving. But respect is earned, and you’ve earned it many times over, kid.” Jack reached over and ruffled Davos’ hair roughly, a small sound of protest escaping him. 

“Let others value you, even if you don’t find value in yourself. Wouldn’t Raella want you to be happy?”

Davos did not look away from the horizon. Quietly, hardly loud enough to carry over the waves, he said “I don’t know how to do that.”

He had only ever let two people into his heart and mind truly and fully. One was his twin, and the other….

The other was Aeron Bracken.

His heart panged in guilt and hurt.

Davos wondered if Jack would be saying he deserved respect if he knew Davos had been courting their enemy for years. 

“You’ve been letting the world flow by you. Reach out, take the reins, and take control of your life, Davos. You’ll be happier once you do.” Jack sighed, eyes boring into him. 

“I’ll… I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ever ask of you, kid.”

They let the silence between them settle once more, and watched as the grey sunset overtook the sky. 

Eventually, the dragon flying above them dove and its screech could be heard even from their vantage point on the beach. The two men tracked its path, watching as it flew down and whipped past their spot in the sand, wingtip barely grazing the water and causing an uptick in the waves. Wind rushed by them from the speed, tousling both their hair and the loose sand around them. The dragon disappeared around the cliffside, presumably to wherever they made their nest.

Finally, when the tides grew and hit their boots, they rose and made their way inside the enormous Keep. 

—

After dinner that night, the three men retired to bed. As tired as Davos was, he unfortunately was not tired enough that sleep claimed him right away. After a while of tossing and turning, he threw his arm over his eyes and sighed deeply. The weak moonlight lit his room just enough to see by. The crashing waves off in the distance almost grated on his nerves. He was used to the quiet of the forest and marshes that surrounded Raventree Hall, used to the distant call of wolves, the hoot of owls nesting and hunting in the weirwoods, the croaking of the bullfrogs in the summertime. The nighttime noise was just as everpresent, but just different enough that it set Davos’ teeth to itching. 

He was in unfamiliar territory. 

Groaning in frustration, he gave up on sleep. Quietly, the Blackwood slipped his clothes, boots and Raella’s ax back on. With great care, he eased the door to his room open, and peered out. Jack and Triston had both closed their doors, and he could hear soft snores coming from Triston’s. The candles that lit the room had been extinguished, and darkness took over the already dark stone room, making it incredibly hard to see.

But Davos was used to navigating the forest at night.

He stepped gingerly over to the door of their rooms, and eased the heavy door open, slipping out with barely a creek of wood. 

Once free of the rooms, Davos wasn’t quite sure what to do. It wasn’t like he could go wandering the island in the dark, and the stables and training grounds weren’t very good options either.

Then he remembered the small courtyard that he and Triston had stumbled upon their first night here. He could find that again. 

While wandering the halls, there were no patrols or servants in sight. Strange, but all the better for Davos. There was no one to question why he was still up. 

Eventually he found the courtyard again, and once he stepped into it, he realized it was occupied. 

Sitting sideways on one of the stone benches was Princess Baela, methodically cleaning her crossbow, tension and frustration in every line of her body. Her head shot up at his movements, eyes narrowed in a scowl. 

Davos put his hands up, “apologies, Princess, I can find somewhere else to wander.”

Before he could turn to leave, the Princess sighed deeply, face relaxing in thought. “No, Lord Blackwood, no need. We can share the courtyard.” 

Davos’ eye twitched at the title. Lord Commander Darklyn’s and Jack’s words both echoed in his mind. 

Still. He was meant to make connections with this future-Queen-to-be. Wouldn’t it be best if they were friendly?

Hands lowering back to his side, he said “just Davos is fine, Princess. I’m not my Uncle’s Heir.” The woman’s head tilted slightly to her left before she nodded. Taking the acceptance for what it was, Davos moved to sit on the second bench, a few feet from Her Grace. Princess Baela resumed her cleaning, and Davos tilted his head back to stare at the stars. 

The smell of the ocean was still on the breeze, mixing with the scent of cleaning oil. 

Back at Raventree, when he and Raella were little, and they couldn’t sleep, they’d set up cushions close enough to the window of their shared bedroom and count the stars together until they both drifted off. 

Davos hadn’t counted the stars since Raella had gotten sick. 

Tonight was no different. Though, he did try to spot the constellations he knew, eyes darting this way and that, trying to make sense of what he knew was written far above their heads. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Baela’s voice settled into the quiet between them. 

“No. New places and all that.”

The Princess hummed. 

Davos bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ve never been this far from home,” he admitted quietly. 

Her eyes darted up to look at him briefly. “Not many reasons to leave the Riverlands?”

“Not before this, no.” Davos peered at her out of the corner of his eye. 

Her hands paused in her cleaning. “Many live and die in the same place without ever leaving it. You’ve come further than most.” 

Davos tipped his head in her direction, conceding her point. She returned to her task, and the Blackwood slumped slightly into the bench. Tentatively, he said, “something keeping you up?”

The Princess’ mouth twisted in displeasure. “I’m not one for inaction.”

She was restless. Davos could imagine why. She was a Princess, a Dragon Rider, daughter of the Rogue Prince. Action was in her blood. 

And her cousin was trying to usurp the throne that was meant for her beloved step-mother.

“Neither was my sister. Used to piss her off endlessly when she had to stay in for lessons on embroidery and other things she disliked.” He huffed slightly. 

The dark skinned woman looked up at him through her lashes. “She sounds like my kind of woman.”

“You’d have liked her, I can tell. She never went anywhere without her ax, and could silence most of our men with just a look.” Davos smirked slightly, hand ghosting over the head of Raella’s ax on his hip.

“Liked?”

The Blackwood glanced towards the Princess, her crossbow abandoned in front of her, cleaned and reassembled perfectly. Turning his gaze back to the sky above them, he said quietly, “She died.” His voice cracked. “Almost six moons ago now. Some fever that swept through the land that no maester could identify.” 

That was the first time he’d had to tell someone else that his sister had died. Everyone else around him had either witnessed it, or known before they’d seen him next. 

He hadn’t even had to say the words to Aeron. He’d known the moment they saw each other next and had seen how devastated he had been.

His stomach twisted.

“She was my twin. Half of my heart.”

Davos turned to look at the Princess, moonlight illuminating her face as he watched his words land. Her eyes softened, brow furrowed, lips downturned. He glanced down to his lap, hands empty as he clenched them tight, nails biting into his palms. 

The Princess inhaled deeply. “Rhaena, too, is half of my heart. She is my twin, my mirror, my coconspirator. We always find our way back to each other.” 

Davos looked up, and their eyes met. He could see compassion in them, sadness for his loss, but no pity. 

Thank the gods, no pity.

“You carry her with you always.” Baela nodded towards the ax strapped to his hip. “She protects you still.”

The Blackwood swallowed thickly, and nodded.

“What was her name?”

“Raella. Raella Blackwood.”

The woman tilted her head once again. “A beautiful name.” 

They lapsed into a brief silence, and soon Baela gathered her cleaning supplies. Standing, she walked over to Davos, and gripped his shoulder firmly. He looked up at her, a small smile on his lips. 

“Good night, Davos.”

“Good night, Your Grace.”

And with that, she made her way back into the Keep. 

Davos sat on that bench for a while longer, before he felt exhaustion settle into him like an old friend. Then he, too, slipped back into his rooms and fell into bed, sleep finally claiming him.

Chapter Text

“The prettiest smiles make the darkest secrets.”

Triston was a man who kept his cards close to his chest. Keep your head down, follow orders, and you’ll live a long life, his father used to say as he smacked Triston upside the head for any and every offence, real or perceived.

Naturally, everything he did was to spite his father.

He was a mean old bastard, so Triston was gentle. He worshipped the New Gods, so Triston worshipped the Old. He fought traditionally with a sword, so Triston found an unconventional weapon. He was mediocre with it at best.

Triston was a master.

It was clear that Triston’s father hated him, what with his mother dying in the birthing bed and leaving him a widower with an infant son. 

When the old man finally died, Triston only felt relief. 

As a young warrior, he’d risen quickly within House Blackwood. They had vast lands and not enough people to patrol them. He found his place amongst the men he patrolled with, was content with where he was.

Then Samwell Blackwood’s twin brother and his wife died, and sadness descended upon Raventree Hall. 

He’d never much cared for children, always swore he would never have them himself. He was too afraid he’d turn out like his bastard of a father.

But when Lord Blackwood’s niece and nephew needed a distraction, Triston was asked to provide.

He did so in the only way he knew how. He took them to the armory and told them to pick out a weapon. 

Raella picking an axe was a boon. Her tutelage was easily secured in himself. It was Davos’ that took a bit longer to work out. 

The first man they’d set up to teach him, Davos bit. The ass was so startled, he retaliated with live steel. He’d cut open Davos’ lip, the kid snarling and leapt back into the fray, mouth bloody and short one baby tooth. Triston had lunged in to break it up at Raella’s enraged shouting, fear that the other man would kill Davos coursing through his veins, turning them to ice.

After he’d been stitched up, when asked what caused the argument, Davos claimed the man made a comment about teaching Raella to fight. Implied there were “other, more pleasurable ways to break a woman.”

Lord Samwell held a deep love for his family. Raella and Davos were the only reminders he had left of his twin brother.

The man had been run almost entirely out of the Riverlands.

They’d found Jack shortly afterwards.

The tall man was not from the Riverlands. He’d traveled much of the Seven Kingdoms over. He’d claimed he was “testing his mettle” by staying at Haunted Harren’s Hall, when he’d heard word of a young boy who’d bitten a man in defense of his sister learning to fight. 

Said that there was little more he valued than defending one’s family. And that was that.

Now, Triston sat in the solar in the early hours of the morning, oiling and sharpening his battle ax. He’d slept poorly, thoughts running amuck with anxieties over what was happening back home. After a few hours of fitful rest, he gave in and started his day. 

Allowing the door to creak open to announce his presence, Davos leant against the door jam, arms crossed and eyes intent. Once the older man took in Davos’ demeanor, he sighed. There was no arguing with either of the twins when they looked like that. They had the same defiant twist to their mouths, the same restlessness in their movements, the same anger that made their nostrils flare just so. 

There were differences of course, slight as they were; Davos’ scar twisted his expression into more of a scowl than a smirk, his lips curling over blunt teeth, Raella’s sharper canines making her look more animal than human in some lights. Raella’s shoulders were a touch broader than Davos’, whereas Davos was a touch taller.

But their eyes always sparkled the same.

Triston hadn’t seen the spark of life in Davos’ eyes since Raella died.

His heart panged in grief.

Raella had been a magnificent warrior. She felled men like trees, joined in her Aunt Aly’s wicked sense of humor, could argue till the cows came home, and loved most fiercely. She and Davos loved to prank anyone and everyone in the Hall, and only those that couried their favor were spared from their mischief. As they aged, the pranks became more subtle, but no less often as they learned to be sneaky. The twins loved to scout and explore in the marshes and beyond, and they’d find all manner of creepy crawlies and toxic plants to bring home. 

Triston internally shuddered at the memory of finding several large centipedes in his bed after a particularly vicious argument with Raella. 

Davos often handed his finds over to the maester, sure he could find a use for the plants he’d foraged. He was usually right. 

He hoped that the look on his face wasn’t Davos’ “I’m bored, let's go find new plants I’ve never seen before and eat them to see if they’re toxic” one.

Triston could hardly tell the difference between that and his “I’m bored, let’s go find something to stab at” look. 

Fortunately, it seemed to be the latter. 

Setting his cloth down on the small table in front of him, Triston inspected his blade. Nodding to himself, he quickly gathered his cleaning materials. Davos kept silent as he did so, which wasn’t a very good sign. The young man was quiet when he wanted to be, but it usually meant he was in a rotten mood. Between the two of them, the twins were always talking, filling in each other’s silences. When both of them were silent? Something was deeply wrong. To hear silence from Davos and not hear Raella’s voice filling it felt unnatural, and it set Triston’s teeth on edge, even nearly half a year after Raella’s death. 

Most everyone around Raventree Hall tried their best to give Davos space. But there was only so much they could do before they feared that this was just what Davos was like, now. Grief and loss changed a person, and Davos had lost the one final person who had been with him since birth. His parents were gone, his sister was gone, and try as they might, young Lord Benjicot, Lady Alysanne and Lord Samwell could not make up for that. 

Davos carried grief with him that most only found in old age, and he was but eight and ten. 

Shaking his head slightly, Triston reached into the basket on the table and lobbed an apple at Davos. The young man was slouched in the doorway still, and caught the fruit with ease. Triston stared at him until he took several bites. The Blackwood might think that people didn’t pay him much mind, but Triston did. Jack did. Many in service to House Blackwood had asked after him in these last few moons.

As had many in Wendish Town and Riverrun. 

“I was thinking we could spar this morning,” Davos said, juice flying from his lips. 

Triston raised an eyebrow.

Davos swallowed.

“‘Suppose we could beg use of a corner of the training yard from the Queensguard,” Triston shrugged. “Go wake Jack to let him know, I’ll be ready in a moment.”

A small, sly smile made its way to Davos’ lips. He did so love to mess with others. 

Davos slipped into Jack’s room as Triston entered his own, the sound of Jack’s yelp coming as he packed away his cleaning oils and twisted up his long hair into a bun.

Shaking his head, Triston reentered the main room in time to see Davos being shoved out of Jack’s room, a grin dancing on the young man’s lips. It was nice to see him smiling, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe politicking wasn’t Davos’ favorite thing, but he’d seemed more lively here than he had at home. 

Triston wondered if it was because the lingering ghost of his sister didn't walk these halls. 

Together, they made their way towards the training yard. Every once in a while Triston would cut his eyes over to Davos to make sure he at the very least finished the apple.

He did, thank the Old Gods.

Once they’d arrived, Triston wandered over to the Training Master, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. After some minor convincing, and mentioning that Lord Blackwood would like to make use of the facilities, they had their corner carved out.

Davos may not like to use his status to his advantage, but Triston had no such compunctions if it was to benefit Davos.

Shedding their outer layers, they wandered over to the rack of training weapons and gear. The yard was a large rectangle, about half covered in grass, some of it with archery targets. But the rest was roped off for both individual and group matches and training. 

Davos picked up a training axe, and Triston cocked his head slightly. Then he picked up a small, round shield, and slid it onto his left arm, flexing his hand around the grip. 

Triston hadn’t taught Davos much about fighting with a shield alongside his axe. It was Raella’s style, brute force and deflection more suited to her than Davos’ speedy precision. Something tugged in Triston’s heart, his mind overlaying an image of Raella tightening her shield down before throwing a cocky grin and a “Ready, old man?” Triston’s way. 

Her bright laughter rang in his ears alongside the clashing of training weapons. 

Blinking away the shadow of his sister, Triston’s eyes met Davos’ as he picked up his own training axe and shield. Once they’d donned some training padding, they returned to their corner, and each slipped into a ready stance. 

Triston waited Davos out, and, just as he knew he would, Davos lunged first, and the two spun into a whirl of clashing blades. 

Their typical spars were a best of five. The first round went to Davos, the second and third to Triston, and the fourth back to Davos. Fighting dirty was in their blood, as Rivermen, and they pulled no punches. They threw elbows, knees, headbutts, and kicked dirt into each other’s faces. 

After the first round, Jack had made his way to the training yard, and was watching with his arms crossed at a distance. By the third round they’d gained more of an audience, several House Targaryen Knights and a few others had stopped to watch. Triston knew that they did not get many outsiders here on Dragonstone, but he didn’t think the three of them would be such a rarity for Her Grace’s men. 

Might as well give them a good show , he thought. His eyes met Davos’ and he flicked his gaze to their audience. Understanding glinted in the younger man’s blue eyes. 

They circled each other to begin the final round. As Davos took another step, Triston lashed out with his axe, aiming for Davos’ left knee. He blocked it with his shield, deflecting the blow down to try to unbalance the larger man while swinging his own axe towards Triston’s head. Hefting up his own shield, Triston threw his weight against Davos’ blow, attempting to unbalance him back. Using the opening Davos left him, Triston kicked out, aiming to plant his foot into the other man’s side. Absorbing the hit with an “oof,” Davos locked his axe arm around Triston’s left leg, trapping it against him. With one leg planted but both arms free, Triston brought his weapon down brutally with both hands against Davos’ shield. Davos tightened his grip and wrenched Triston off balance, bringing both of them to the dirt. 

Freeing his leg from Davos’ grip in the fall, Triston was able to fling himself up into a standing position faster than Davos. Mostly because in doing so he kicked up with his trapped leg into Davos’ shoulder, forcing the dark haired man to let go. Davos made it to a knee just in time for Triston to lash out with a punch from his shield arm, trying to knock Davos back onto his back. He was met with a fistful of dirt to the face. 

Backing up a step to try and shake the dirt from his eyes, Triston swung blindly with his axe, feeling it hit Davos’ shield, forcing more space between them. Roughly swiping his sleeve against his eyes, he opened them with enough time to see Davos on his feet and swing for the underside of Triston’s arm, finding the opening he’d created and aiming to make Triston drop his weapon. Stepping into the swing enough to trap Davos’ weapon against his own side as he clamped down, the older man swung his own axe into Davos’ shield. 

Then he kicked out at the shorter man’s legs, knocking them both to the ground again. This time, Triston was able to pin Davos with his arm and weapon still trapped against him, and laid his axe lightly against Davos’ exposed throat. 

Both of them panting with exertion, Davos went lax as he said loudly, “Alright! I yield! Fuck, old man….” Laughing lightly, Triston stood and held a hand out to the Blackwood. 

As they rose, they received a smattering of applause. They brushed some of the dust and dirt from themselves as they turned, Davos freezing a moment before Triston looked up. At the center of their audience, stood next to Jack was Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and his sworn shield, the Prince clapping politely as he looked at Davos. 

“Your Grace,” Davos said as he bowed lightly, Triston copying him as the rest of the crowd dispersed.

Head tilted slightly, Jacaerys lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “That was a rousing final round, gentlemen. Congratulations on your win, Ser Triston.” 

The young Prince did not take his eyes off Davos.

“Thank you, Your Grace. But Lord Blackwood here will have me beat soon,” he said, as he bumped the other man with his shoulder. 

Once they drew closer to the three men, Jack did his best to cover his snort with a cough as Davos glared at him. 

The Velaryon cracked a smile. “Of that, I have no doubt. Well done, Lord Blackwood.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Davos perked up at the praise. “It’s an honor to have your approval.”

Triston bit his tongue hard to keep from snickering. They had to be professional and respectful according to Lord Samwell. Laughing at Davos’ cheeks reddening under the smearing of dirt was absolutely not the way to do that. 

The Prince hummed. “I wouldn’t mind going a round or two with you, Lord Blackwood. It's not often we see warriors who fight with something other than a sword.” His smile sharpened. “If you are amenable, that is.”

Triston’s stomach dropped. He absolutely did not like the implications of that sentence. He cut his gaze to Jack, whose mouth had tightened in displeasure. It appeared on the surface to be an offer, but coming from the Crown Prince?

It was a demand.

Few people turned down a member of the Targaryen line. And they always ended up in a bad way. 

Without missing a beat, however, Davos’ own smile sharpened into something Triston had not seen since Raella fell ill. “I’m amenable, if you are able to find time in your schedule for me, Your Grace.”

Triston swallowed. Was Davos… having fun? The older man couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen mischief on Davos in so long he’d almost forgotten what it looked like. But that’s what it was.

Davos was having fun. With the Crown Prince.

He nearly laughed. He knew the Blackwood was adept at making friends. He’d befriended near everyone he’d ever met, despite how stubborn and bull headed he could be. 

The only people he’d never attempted to befriend were Brackens. For good reason.

“I’m sure we can find some time. Join me and Princess Baela for dinner tonight, and we can sort the details. The Princess tells me you’re an interesting one.”

Davos grimaced slightly, eyes darting between him and Jack and back to Jacaerys. Triston’s eye nearly twitched, and he had a sinking suspicion that Davos was keeping something from them. 

“Thank you, Your Grace, I would love to.” Davos’ smile never faltered, lips curled with promise. 

The Crown Prince nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Looking at Triston for the first time, he said “It was a pleasure, Sers, Lord Blackwood.”

And with that, he and his sworn shield left to do Gods knew what. 

As Jack stepped closer still, he hissed, “what the hell was that?”

Triston turned towards Davos in time to see him flinch. At that, Jack backed off half a step. The young man had been skittish more often than not, and both men knew they needed to be careful to draw anything out of him. 

“What do you mean? I’m trying to make connections!” Davos’ response was equally low. “That’s half the damn reason we’re here .” 

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Davos. I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

The Blackwood grinned once more, this time with an edge of danger. “Trust me, Jack. I have a plan.” 

Triston decided then to cut in, “Jack, let’s you and I go a round or two, then let’s get cleaned up.”

The taller man grumbled, but agreed. Davos and he swiftly made their way to the racks to return and pick out their padding and weapons. 

Once they were set, Davos plopped down to watch the two instructors go at it. After several rounds, they broke for lunch at the training yard. As they allowed their food to settle, several knights came over to converse with them, asking about fighting moves and the Riverlands. All three of them ended up demonstrated a few moves and tactics, before Davos and Jack went a few rounds, with Jack coming out victorious this time.

Davos was good, very good, but Jack and Triston had experience on their side. But he would get there, the two of them would make sure of it. Lady Alysanne was one of the best archers in the Riverlands, and Lord Benjicot was shaping up to be formidable as well, so it was only fitting that Davos matched them in their ferocity. 

Later, as the sun began its descent into the horizon, they finally gave up and went back to their rooms.

—

As they returned inside, Davos couldn’t help the light spring in his step. It had been a long time since he’d had a day dedicated solely to training, and learning from Targaryen knights and Queensguard was a rare opportunity.

Plus, he’d met and spoken with the Crown Prince. 

Was meeting him and Princess Baela for dinner. 

He was making the connections his Lord Uncle wanted him to, and he was helping his home. He was hopefully on the road to success. Davos couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this many good days in a row. 

The reminder of his fight with Aeron right before leaving reared its ugly head. He quickly squashed the feeling of dread building in his stomach. He could feel himself wilting slightly, but he couldn’t let his love life crumbling around him distract him from his goals. Forcing thoughts of silky brown hair and laughter filled eyes from his mind, Davos followed Jack and Triston into their rooms.

There was a warm bath waiting in each of their rooms for them.

Jack’s mouth fell open slightly, and he could hear Triston’s teeth grinding from where he stood. The last three servants were pouring the last bit of water into each of the tubs as they arrived. They each bowed their heads slightly to Davos, and the last one stopped in front of them. 

“His Grace Crown Prince Jacaerys sends his regards. Please enjoy.”

“Uh, thank you?” The woman nodded at Davos and scurried out the door. 

Glancing between his two companions, Davos shrugged and made his way into his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He had a dinner to get ready for, the other two could sort out their feelings about this gesture without him.

Chapter Text

“Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher,

Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire”   -Sleep Token

After he’d scrubbed the sweat and grime from his skin, Davos stood in his room with every article of clothing strewn onto his bed. He couldn’t believe how badly he was distressed over his clothing choices. He’d packed a modest amount, knowing that at some point he’d likely be forced to dress up into something approaching overly extravagant and expensive. 

But nothing he’d brought felt right to wear to this dinner. He wasn’t meeting with Her Grace the Queen, but he was meeting with the Crown Prince and his Betrothed. He wanted to make a good impression, and present the Riverlands and its people as more than just brutes and farmers. 

He and his people were more than what most of the Seven Kingdoms thought of them. Their culture was rich and varied, and their work fed many of those in the realm, as well as filling the Crown’s coffers. Their grain was traded and sold to the Iron Islands, the Vale, and down into parts of the Westerlands and the Reach. Their fish mainly went to the Vale and the easternmost parts of the Reach. 

And the Crown always took its cut.

That was one of the items on Davos’ List. Cutting down on the taxes to the crown for the Riverlands. The raids from the Iron Islands, the roaming bands of brigands and thieves, and the sicknesses that have swept through have brought not just Raventree Hall and House Blackwood, but the Riverlands as a whole to the brink of collapse. 

According to his Uncle Samwell, the Riverlands used to be almost as wealthy as House Lannister. House Tully would host a tourney twice a year, to celebrate a bountiful harvest, or an inter House marriage, or to honor the Crown. Now, they were lucky if they hosted one every other year. Davos remembered a few, had attended a handful as a child and early into his teenage years. 

He still remembered the one just over a year ago, where he’d convinced Aeron to sneak away from his cousins and meet with him in secret. That night was seared into his memory.

Aeron had been knighted the next day for performing so well and beating so many of House Tully’s men. They’d made eye contact afterwards, and Davos had to hide his face away from his family, as he couldn’t keep the proud smile from his lips.

He was also poorly hiding the hickeys Aeron had left.

Raella had distracted their group by loudly bashing the Brackens as those around them celebrated, pulling attention away from her twin and his aching cheeks. 

Davos shook his head violently, his still damp hair flinging water droplets around the room and into his eye. Rubbing at his face in frustration, the Blackwood took a measured breath. Then another. He was not in Raventree. He was at Dragonstone, the ancestral home of House Targaryen. He was a Lord of his House. He needed to dress the part.

Sweeping a calculating eye back over his choices, Davos’ eyes landed on an embroidered doublet that had been gifted to him on his last Nameday. 

The fabric of it was a deep crimson red, with four ravens in flight embroidered over the heart, one for each of the House Blackwood heirs, and a large intricate weirwood tree embroidered on the back.

Hidden neatly in the branches of the weirwood tree was a fifth raven, for his bastard cousin Robb.

The doublet had been a gift from his Aunt Alysanne. She had gifted Raella a finely made crimson dress with a similar theme, a weirwood and its gnarled branches embroidered on the front, framing a low neckline and accentuating his sister’s broad shoulders, four ravens flying up along her spine, with the fifth similarly hidden amongst the branches.

Just similar enough to match, but different enough to be its own gift. Just like the twins themselves. 

Davos and Raella both loved them. Raella never got a chance to wear hers, but Davos knew his sister would have been striking in it. She was a beautiful young woman, and had started receiving petitions for her hand, just as Aly had. His Uncle had promised not to force her to marry after an intense argument with both her and Alysanne, both of them demanding that they be allowed to have a say in their husbands, just as Davos and Benjicot would have a say in their wives. 

Davos shuddered at the thought of marriage at all.

He and Aeron had never discussed what they would do when that came up. Aeron had the advantage of being far enough out of the succession that his marriage wouldn’t be entirely dependent on political needs, though they would play a part. If he even married at all. Davos, though, knew his marriage would be political in nature. 

He’d always assumed that he and Raella would take up the role that their father had filled for their Lord Uncle, acting as proxies, negotiating with neighboring Houses and advising Benjicot when he became Lord of Raventree Hall.

Raella had had larger aspirations than that. She saw a Queen in line for the Iron Throne and dreamt of wearing a white cloak and the Red Keep and Maegor’s Holdfast.

But the cards landed where they did, and here Davos was in Dragonstone, about to have dinner with the Crown Prince and a Targaryen Princess. 

He put on the doublet. 

Grabbing a cloth to further dry his hair, Davos caught a glance of himself in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. He looked…. Well. He looked like he was meeting royalty. The red of the fabric pulled the red highlights in his hair into sharper contrast, as it curled slightly at the ends. The slight silver embroidery caught in the candlelight. But it was his own face that surprised him the most. There was a set to his jaw that spoke of determination, and a look in his eyes that he couldn’t quite name, but knew he’d not had in a long time.

He hardly recognized himself.

He wondered if Aeron would. If Raella would.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course they both would recognize him. Regardless of all else, Raella was his twin, they would recognize each other in every lifetime. And Aeron… despite the two of them arguing, they’d spent the majority of their childhood not only playing together, but training as well. He knew every one of Aeron’s moves, just as Aeron knew every one of his. Davos knew Aeron like he knew the beat of his own heart, like he knew the scars on his own body, like he knew every creek and brook and pond between Raventree and Red Fork River.

Nodding to himself, Davos finally accepted that he was ready for his meeting. 

Stepping back into the solar, he swept his eyes across both Triston and Jack. They’d both apparently decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and cleaned themselves up. However, both men were dressed as though they were going to escort him to dinner.

“Absolutely not.”

Davos’ voice didn’t startle either man, but Jack did raise an eyebrow. 

“I’m not going to be escorted like an unruly child.”

“Davos-” Triston began, but the younger man cut him off.

“No,” he stated firmly. “I know you think danger lies around every corner, but we’re in Dragonstone. The Queen herself resides here. We’ve made no enemies here, and a member of the royal House is expecting me. Anyone would be mad to provoke us here.”

Davos crossed his arms, and stared down his two companions, mouth twisted in displeasure.

Jack sighed, and looked imploringly at Triston, likely knowing that this would be the response they’d get.

The other man’s jaw worked as he thought. Finally, Triston deflated, sinking further into his chair, and admitted quietly, “I just don’t want to lose you, too.”

The Blackwood’s heart sank. He knew his sister’s death wasn’t just affecting himself. Triston had grown to see both of them as little siblings, but Raella held a special place in his heart, the same as Davos held in Jack’s. 

Stepping quickly to Triston’s side, Davos squatted down in front of him and put a hand on Triston’s knee. “You’re not going to lose me. You’ve both taught me to defend myself well, and we’ll be under guard. Nothing is going to happen.”

Triston’s brown eyes searched Davos’ face, so similar to Raella’s, and finally relented. “I suppose I can’t shadow you forever. You’re your own man. If you say you’ll be safe, I’ll trust you.”

“I will, I swear.” Davos squeezed Triston’s knee, and the older man reached out and quickly ruffled his hair, a small smile on his lips. 

Batting lightly at Triston’s hand, Davos stood and looked over to Jack. The taller man had an indulgent smile on his face, eyes lingering on Triston. Davos knew that look, but chose to let Jack be. 

His two companions had spent more time together on this trip than they ever had before. Typically, Lord Blackwood would send Triston on patrols in the direction of Riverrun, and Jack towards the coast. Their lands were widespread, and with their House numbers dwindling in the last few decades, his Uncle’s more trusted men were given more responsibilities. Between teaching both the Blackwood twins and doggedly patrolling their lands, the two had not often had any downtime to meet or get to know each other. They were likely learning more about each other than they had in the near ten years Jack had been in the House’s employ. 

“Alright. I’ve got a rather important meeting to attend, so you two have fun while I’m gone. Have a few drinks, play some cards, I don’t know.” Davos’ smile sharpened to teasing, and Jack spluttered a bit. Triston just rolled his eyes. 

Waving cheerily, Davos darted for the door. Slipping out and turning towards the inner corridors, his eyes landed on a serving girl coming towards him. Their eyes met briefly, and the Blackwood put on his most disarming smile. The girl’s lips quirked up slightly, and she bowed her head. “Lord Blackwood, please allow me to escort you to His Grace’s chambers.”

“By all means, miss….?”

“Myra, my Lord.”

“Myra, after you then.” 

Together they took what Davos decided was a dizzying amount of turns through almost too many corridors and hallways to count. How anyone knew their way around this Keep, he didn’t understand. He half suspected she was turning them in circles so that he couldn’t relay the route to anyone. Afterall, he was going to the private chambers of the Royal House. Giving easy access to a random Lord of a small House who they barely knew wasn’t a great idea. 

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a door guarded by a member of the Queensguard. The knight was stoic and stared Davos down intensely for a small eternity. Davos made no motion to look away from the knight’s eyes as he thanked Myra for leading him here. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the woman nod to the knight before taking her leave. Finally, whatever the Queensguard was looking for he seemed to find, and reached to open the door for him. 

“Lord Blackwood has arrived, Your Graces.”

“Thank you, Ser Lorent,” came the polite reply from within.

Davos stepped through the door at the knight’s nod. 

The Prince’s rooms were vast, that much Davos could tell. The solar alone was near the size of the dinning hall at Raventree. The ceiling was vaulted, extending high up, with the windows off to the left creeping up with it. Each of the room’s three windows were made partially of stained glass, depicting three different dragons in flight. One dragon was a brilliant bloody red, one a sun-drenched yellow, and one a muted silver-grey.

The other walls were mostly bare, a fireplace and a large tapestry hanging on one, illustrating what looked to be a battle at sea, rolling waves and a great ship in the forefront; another held a great map of the Seven Kingdoms and the lands across the Narrow sea, which looked to be painstakingly detailed with which Houses controlled which lands, major roads and rivers, and many of the major cities and towns. 

The setting sun shone through the windows, bathing the map across from them in a myriad of dancing colors.

The furniture was sparse, with a small seating area with a short table and three chairs off to the side in front of the far window, and a larger table set for three taking up the center of the room. Princess Baela leaned against the larger table, her tousled hair a halo around her smiling face. Crown Prince Jacaerys stood half way between them, half turned towards Davos, a light smile on his face as well.

The Blackwood let a matching smile rise, and tried not to let his awe of the opulence of the room show. This was a Prince and Princess, of course they’d be bathed in luxury. 

“Lord Blackwood, welcome! I hope the rest of your sparring went well.”

“Hello Davos,” Princess Baela called over her Betrothed’s shoulder. 

“My Prince, Princess,” Davos greets with a small bow. “Jack kicked my ass, but I managed to win two rounds against him as well.”

Princess Baela smirked. “Experience wins out over youth once more, it seems.”

“Aye, but it was impressive to watch.” Prince Jacaerys stepped up to Davos as he ventured further into the room, clapping a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“A lesson learned with every loss, Your Grace. I won’t make the same mistakes twice.” Princess Baela glided towards him and held her hand out to Davos, who took it gently and lightly kissed the back of it. 

She threw her head back and laughed once, Prince Jacaerys squeezing his shoulder before letting go. The two men shared another smile, and the Prince’s eyes gleamed with interest.

“Come, let us eat.”

Once Davos had settled into his seat alongside Jacaerys and Baela, food was brought out from a hidden door, and their wine goblets filled. “So, Lord Blackwood,” Prince Jacaerys smirked, “tell us about the Riverlands.” 

Davos tilted his head slightly. Being a Prince of the Realm, surely maesters far and wide had made a bid to teach Jacaerys everything about the lands he would one day rule. Which means he was likely asking in order to get a native Riverman’s perspective. 

The Blackwood appreciated that. He knew from reading his family’s histories and comparing them to both Aeron’s and the texts at Riverrun that knowledge from one single source was flawed, and the truth laid somewhere in the middle. 

The Prince was already proving that he was well learned.

“What would you like to know, my Prince?”

The Velaryon sipped his wine as Princess Baela answered, “what do you do for fun?”

That startled a laugh out of him. The Princess’ grin sharpened.

“There’s many things to do. Blue Fork River has some of the most beautiful stones littering its shores, many make the journey to try and collect them and turn them into jewelry and other trinkets.” Davos twirled the fork in front of him around his fingers while he spoke once, twice, thrice. “Red Fork produces some of the most delicious fresh water oysters. Wendish Town has many craftsmen and smiths, as well as the Half Year Festivals. Along the shores of Ironman’s Bay is some of the best fishing that side of the Crownlands.” A smile took over Davos’ face. He may not be the direct Heir to House Blackwood, but he knew his lands and his people, and he loved them dearly. 

Prince Jacaerys glanced sideways at his Betrothed. “That’s all well and good, and I’d love to hear more of all of that, but what do you do for fun?”

Humming lightly, Davos gave that some thought. He hadn’t felt like he’d done anything for fun in moons. Not since Raella died. 

“Sometimes, I venture out to the marshes beyond the farmlands and wander until I don’t know where I am, and then make a game of finding my way back. Other times, I’ll make it out to Wendish Town to help with the grain barges or the fish market. There’s a stand whose owner makes the most delicious sweet rolls I’ve ever had.”

He could feel a smile splitting his face. He’d have to take a trip out to get those rolls again soon. Maybe he could sneak Aeron in and take him to the Half Year Festival. If they even put it on this year. 

His smile thinned a touch.

“One day, I’d love to try those sweet rolls,” Princess Baela sighed near dreamily. 

“You and your sweets. You’re nearly as bad as Luke.”

Baela sniffed at Jacaerys’ teasing, nose upturned. “Luke just has good taste.”

Davos snorted. To cover it, he took a swift bite of the meal in front of him. Lamb roasted with potatoes and carrots seemed to be the choice tonight. The meat was incredible, nearly falling off the bone. The Blackwood didn’t think he'd had such decadence before.

“That he does,” the Prince responded, hardly taking his eyes off the woman. 

Davos could hardly blame him. Princess Baela was beautiful.

Swallowing hastily, he asked, “What about you, Your Grace? Not all your time can be taken up by politics.”

“I’d prefer no time be taken up by politics,” Princess Baela muttered into her cup, lip curled up. Jacaerys snorted. 

“Mostly, Vermax and I go flying,” he said. “I never tire of it.”

The young man had an almost dreamy expression on his face as the Princess rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t only go flying. He also likes to read, and to train his sword fighting. If you venture back out to the training yard tomorrow, you’ll get to see him work.”

Jacaerys cleared his throat. “Which brings me to my request,” he rushed out. “After all the pomp and circumstance with hearing petitions and holding Court, would you like to train together? It has been a while since I’ve had a chance to go at someone I’m unfamiliar with.”

Jacaerys’ grin was made up of hunger and whispered promises and confidence.

Davos felt a thrill go up his spine. 

“My Prince, I thought you’d never ask.”

His own smile was sharp and excited.

Baela hummed and flicked her gaze back and forth between the two dark haired men, her own lips rising in delight. “I’ll have to clear my schedule to watch the two of you,” she said as she set her cup down. 

Turning his attention to the Princess, Davos asked, “and you, Your Grace? What do you do when not wandering the halls taking pity on strangers?”

The Blackwood watched the Prince’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, wondering if the Princess had mentioned their meeting to him. Jacaerys only bit into his own dinner. 

No secrets between them, then. Good.

“I quite enjoy hawking, truth be told.” 

“She has an affinity for creatures with wings,” the Prince followed up quickly, eyes landing on the ravens embroidered on Davos’ doublet. 

Baela’s eyes trailed to Davos’ chest as well. “Dragons, hawks… ravens. I love flying, it's true.” 

Davos swallowed thickly. 

“I also like to dance, as well as fly. I’m a creature of movement and action, I'm afraid.” She didn’t seem very afraid to Davos. In fact, she seemed like a predator on the hunt. 

Jacaerys snorted rather inelegantly. “How have you liked Dragonstone so far, Lord Blackwood?” 

The change of topic allowed Davos to take a sip of his wine (also clearly expensive, but what else should be expected for the Crown Prince?). “Quite well so far, my Prince. The waters here are much different than I’m used to….”

And so on, they continued to chat about the differences of their homes, comparing the darkened, wet sands of Dragonstone to the light, airy sands found on the shores of Ironman’s Bay. They discussed the trade routes from the Riverlands, and what the latest news was out of Riverrun and the Iron Islands and Pentos. As they finished their food and their plates were cleared away, they migrated to the seating area, dragging their chairs close to one another as all three of them leaned forward, all the while consuming their wine. 

As the night wore on, the three of them laughed together, and eased into teasing one another. Around them servants lit the oil lamps throughout the room as well as the fireplace, casting a warm glow across them.

“You mentioned Half Year Festivals, what are they like?” Princess Baela’s eyes shone with interest, chin propped up in her hand as she stared at Davos.

Humming as he sipped his cup, Davos smiled. “They’re beautiful. The Spring Festival celebrates the reawakening of the land and the people, dusting off the dreariness of winter and preparing for the first planting. The Fall Festival marks the end of the harvest season, celebrating a bountiful crop.” The Blackwood’s eyes drifted from Baela to Jacaerys. “Both are used as the main celebration of any weddings that occurred between the two. Usually people are either stuck in their homes with snow and ice in the winter, or too busy making sure their harvest is finished in the summer. So there’s a special celebration at the end of the week for newlyweds.” Eyes drifting back to the Princess, he adds, “lots of dancing.”

Her eyes light up like he’d hoped they would. “Oh, you must teach me some of the dances you know!” 

A grin split his face once more, and he set his cup down on the table, extending his hand towards her. She, too, set her cup down and they stepped into the open space between the chairs and the windows. 

As Davos showed Baela some of the traditional dances, he could feel Jacaerys’ eyes on the two of them. Every once in a while he would glance at the Prince. His eyes followed the two of them along, a look Davos wasn’t sure how to decipher settled on his face.

The Blackwood held his hand out to the Prince in a silent invitation. Poorly suppressing a grin, the other man stood and joined them. 

Davos’ slightly drunken attempts to teach the two morphed into the three of them dancing a mix of traditional and non traditional steps, giggling and showing off in turns. Baela twirled from Davos’ grip into Jacaerys’ and the two royals nearly toppled over. 

Laughing harder as they steadied each other, the Prince and Princess’ eyes met, and they pressed together in a short, sweet kiss. As they pulled away from each other, they both looked to Davos. Smiling ruefully, the Blackwood shook his head. “I believe it is time for me to turn in for the night, Your Graces.”

Disappointment flashed briefly across the Crown Prince’s face, as Princess Baela disentangled them. Smiling devilishly, she reached her hand out to Davos. He took it with great care and placed another kiss gently on her knuckles. “Thank you for dinner, my Prince, my Princess.”

“Thank you for coming, Lord Blackwood,” Jacaerys held his hand out as well.

“Davos, please, Your Grace,” he said as he took the Prince’s hand. His palm was warm and calloused.

“Jacaerys, then. I look forward to our spar tomorrow, Davos.” The other man’s eyes glittered with excitement.

“As do I, my Prince ,” Davos returned. The Prince huffed a small laugh.

“I look forward to watching,” Baela responded, mirth in her eyes.

Jacaerys and Davos smiled once more as the Prince walked the other man to the door, opening it to reveal two of the Queensguard.

“Ser Lorent, could you ensure Lord Blackwood returns to his rooms? I fear Myra took him the long way around on the way here.”

The Queensguard that Davos didn’t recognize snorted, while Ser Lorent sighed, exasperated. “She absolutely did, Your Grace. If you’ll follow me, Lord Blackwood.”

“Good night, Your Grace,” Davos called one last time as he turned down the hall.

“Good night, my Lord .”

Davos’ heart skipped a beat, a smile finding its way to his face. Luckily the Queensguard beside him didn’t seem to take note of it, or if he did he kept it to himself.

As they walked, Davos glanced around and recognized the way back as the same way the servant girl had brought him. The long way around, as the Prince had said.

The younger man couldn’t blame the Knight for taking him the long way as well. They were sworn to protect the Queen and her family, and Jacaerys is the Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne. Davos half expected that there was no shortcut. 

Finally they made it back to familiar territory, and Davos reached out to open the door to his, Jack and Triston’s rooms. Before he could however, Ser Lorent stopped him. “My Lord.”

Quirking his head slightly, Davos turned to make eye contact with the older man.

“The Queen and her family are in need of loyal, fierce allies. The stalemate we are in now will not last forever. Moves will be made.” The Knight’s brown eyes cut sharply into the Blackwood’s blue ones.

Tilting his chin up slightly, Davos declared, “House Blackwood are loyal to House Targaryen. Queen Rhaenyra is the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Davos crossed his arms. “King Viserys, Gods rest his soul, declared the Queen his rightful Heir when she was six-and-ten, and it is well known in the Riverlands that he held that belief until his death.”

Davos sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair, gaze drifting down the hall back towards the Prince and Princess’ chambers. “My House understands grudges perhaps better than most. But, just because tradition demands something, doesn’t make it right.” He cut his gaze back to the Knight. “The Queen has the Blackwood’s full support. And we will see to it that the rest of the Riverlands follows.”

Ser Lorent’s gaze had not once left Davos, gauging the truthfulness of his words. Nodding once to himself, the Knight let out a breath. “Good. You’ll have more than just the Crown’s gratitude for that. Enjoy the rest of your evening, my Lord.” 

The Blackwood waited until the Queensguard had turned down another hall to release the tension in his body. He knew that war was coming. He knew that the realm would be divided. But he hadn’t expected everything that had come from this visit so far.

Shaking the rest of the tension from his body, Davos opened the door to their rooms. The lamps were low, a deck of cards and two empty cups littering the table between the couch and armchair. Triston was asleep soundly in said chair, legs extended and head propped up precariously in his hand. Jack was reclined on the couch, a book resting open on his chest and soft snores escaping him. 

Fondness roared to life in Davos’ chest for these two men. As quietly as he could, Davos crept into both of their rooms and snagged two blankets, draping one over each of them. He gently pried the book out of Jack’s hand and put out the lamps, before ensuring neither man woke. Turning back to his own room, the young man quickly changed into his night clothes, and left his door open in case either of them woke in the middle of the night and wanted to make sure he made it back, before drifting off to sleep as well.