B R O A D C A S T ♚ M I N D : 1
"It is every man's duty to remain loyal to his king, even if the lord he serves proves false."
Two men stand before you in the Stone Drum of Dragonstone, next to the great Painted Table of Aegon the Conqueror. Ser Axell Florent, your queen's wretched uncle has told you time and again of his plan for vengeance, and how you must show the Lannisters that not all is as lost to you as it seems. A part of you wants to believe him, but there is one man that keeps you from doing so, even when your tone brokered no argument.
"As you remained loyal to King Aerys when your brother raised his banners?" your Onion Knight asks.
The words feel as though someone has just thrown cold water in your face. Your temper is rising. What man would dare to speak to his king in such a manner? What man would dare to broach the subject? It was the same man who tried to kill Lady Melisandre as soon as he returned seemingly from the dead some number of weeks ago. The same man who you had kept locked in the dungeons, knowing full well that you would have executed any other man for this...
"Treason!" Ser Axell interrupts your thoughts, pulling out his knife. "Your Grace, he speaks his infamy to your face!"
He speaks infamy, but is it his or mine own? You aren't sure of the answer When you look over to Davos with your jaw clenched, he looks you in the eye. Since the deaths of your brothers, he is the only man who does so. Even in your fury, even with his actions, you do not take him for a traitor.
But you had need to speak to the man alone.
"Put up your knife, ser Axell and leave us."
"As it please Your Grace--" Ser Axell was beginning to try your patience.
"It would please me for you to leave. Take yourself from my presence, and send me Melisandre." The three of you would have need to talk. Of what Melisandre had seen. Of what you had seen. It would also give you time enough alone with him. You barely notice Ser Axell leave the room. Your eyes are back on Ser Davos Seaworth, your fury still simmering beneath the surface. You begin to speak again.
"You have always presumed on my forbearance. I can shorten your tongue as easy as I did your fingers, smuggler."
"I am your man, Your Grace. So it is your tongue, to do with as you please."
"It is." Strangely, his words calm you. Ser Axell. Selyse. The Queen's Men. For weeks they have told you only what you have wanted to hear. Even Melisandre has been oddly cryptic as of late. Only Davos has ever dared to tell you nothing but what you needed to hear. “And I would have it speak the truth. Though the truth is a bitter draught at times. Aerys. If only you knew… that was a hard choosing. My blood or my liege. My brother or my king.” Sometimes, you wonder if it would have made a difference, siding with the Mad King. Would have you followed your brother, not as king, but as Lord of Storm’s End? Would Renly still live, without a care in the world? Or would have he ordered you both to burn for your brother’s treason, just as he had Lord Rickard for his son's.
But what was done is done. For better or ill, you made your choice. Though, it does not stop you from imagining you and your young brother in the place of the Starks, burning and choking while the Mad King laughs from his accursed throne. You shudder. “Have you seen the Iron Throne? The barbs along the back, the ribbons of twisted steel, the jagged end s of swords and knives all tangled up and melted? It is not a comfortable seat, ser. Aerys cut himself so often men took to calling him King Scab and Maegor the Cruel was murdered in that chair. By that chair, to hear some tell it. It is not a seat where men can rest at ease. Ofttimes, I wonder why my brothers wanted it so desperately.”
“Why would you want it then?”
You wonder if he already knows the answer. “It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert’s heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son.” You run your fingers lightly over the table in front of you. “I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother. The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes, there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean. As Robert should have done after the Trident.” While you speak, you keep your gaze on him, and you know he understands.
The realm would have justice. And when it did, you wanted him to stand by your side. Though he may mislike your priestess and your God (was it truly your God?), you know he will follow you to the end. Once, you said that a king has no friends, only subjects and enemies.
You might have been wrong.
Two men stand before you in the Stone Drum of Dragonstone, next to the great Painted Table of Aegon the Conqueror. Ser Axell Florent, your queen's wretched uncle has told you time and again of his plan for vengeance, and how you must show the Lannisters that not all is as lost to you as it seems. A part of you wants to believe him, but there is one man that keeps you from doing so, even when your tone brokered no argument.
"As you remained loyal to King Aerys when your brother raised his banners?" your Onion Knight asks.
The words feel as though someone has just thrown cold water in your face. Your temper is rising. What man would dare to speak to his king in such a manner? What man would dare to broach the subject? It was the same man who tried to kill Lady Melisandre as soon as he returned seemingly from the dead some number of weeks ago. The same man who you had kept locked in the dungeons, knowing full well that you would have executed any other man for this...
"Treason!" Ser Axell interrupts your thoughts, pulling out his knife. "Your Grace, he speaks his infamy to your face!"
He speaks infamy, but is it his or mine own? You aren't sure of the answer When you look over to Davos with your jaw clenched, he looks you in the eye. Since the deaths of your brothers, he is the only man who does so. Even in your fury, even with his actions, you do not take him for a traitor.
But you had need to speak to the man alone.
"Put up your knife, ser Axell and leave us."
"As it please Your Grace--" Ser Axell was beginning to try your patience.
"It would please me for you to leave. Take yourself from my presence, and send me Melisandre." The three of you would have need to talk. Of what Melisandre had seen. Of what you had seen. It would also give you time enough alone with him. You barely notice Ser Axell leave the room. Your eyes are back on Ser Davos Seaworth, your fury still simmering beneath the surface. You begin to speak again.
"You have always presumed on my forbearance. I can shorten your tongue as easy as I did your fingers, smuggler."
"I am your man, Your Grace. So it is your tongue, to do with as you please."
"It is." Strangely, his words calm you. Ser Axell. Selyse. The Queen's Men. For weeks they have told you only what you have wanted to hear. Even Melisandre has been oddly cryptic as of late. Only Davos has ever dared to tell you nothing but what you needed to hear. “And I would have it speak the truth. Though the truth is a bitter draught at times. Aerys. If only you knew… that was a hard choosing. My blood or my liege. My brother or my king.” Sometimes, you wonder if it would have made a difference, siding with the Mad King. Would have you followed your brother, not as king, but as Lord of Storm’s End? Would Renly still live, without a care in the world? Or would have he ordered you both to burn for your brother’s treason, just as he had Lord Rickard for his son's.
But what was done is done. For better or ill, you made your choice. Though, it does not stop you from imagining you and your young brother in the place of the Starks, burning and choking while the Mad King laughs from his accursed throne. You shudder. “Have you seen the Iron Throne? The barbs along the back, the ribbons of twisted steel, the jagged end s of swords and knives all tangled up and melted? It is not a comfortable seat, ser. Aerys cut himself so often men took to calling him King Scab and Maegor the Cruel was murdered in that chair. By that chair, to hear some tell it. It is not a seat where men can rest at ease. Ofttimes, I wonder why my brothers wanted it so desperately.”
“Why would you want it then?”
You wonder if he already knows the answer. “It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert’s heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son.” You run your fingers lightly over the table in front of you. “I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother. The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes, there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean. As Robert should have done after the Trident.” While you speak, you keep your gaze on him, and you know he understands.
The realm would have justice. And when it did, you wanted him to stand by your side. Though he may mislike your priestess and your God (was it truly your God?), you know he will follow you to the end. Once, you said that a king has no friends, only subjects and enemies.
You might have been wrong.