The Lost Stark

Advice from a onion.

~Daenerys
"Your Grace?" The worried tone of Ser Davos seeps in through the deafening buzz that fills my ears.
"You are the Usurper's bastard?" I whisper, keeping my gaze fixed on the young man until the weathered old man steps between us. "Does Ryker know?" I ask him.
"I told her before we left Dragonstone," Gendry speaks out from behind Ser Davos.
Letting out a shaky breath, I sit back down and reach into our bond, trying to find a sliver of Margaery's peace to help calm my racing heart. Ryker had her reasons for allowing the Baratheon to come on our trek North, and I need to trust her.
"King Ryker's father and mine were the best of friends."
"You're not going in the direction you think you're going in by pointing that out," Ser Davos interjects, still defending the young boy from me.
"I only thought of what I would say to our King and not the Queen," Gendry mumbles back to the Onion Knight.
Raising a hand, I silence both of them in a second. "You are not your father, just as I am not mine. You have nothing to worry about while serving our cause. So long as we stand on the same side, then your life is yours to live as freely as you wish," I assure the young man gently, hoping to ease the Knight's concerns.
"You will not behead me?" Gendry asks, furrowing his brow.
"Do I need to?" I ask, arching my eyebrow.
"No!" Ser Davos almost shouts, turning around and lightly smacking the young man on the side of his head.
Even though I had not meant for my jest to be taken seriously, I cannot help the small smile that forms on my lips as I watch the brief exchange between the two. Gendry might have said he's a bastard, but it seems he has possibly found a father figure in the Onion Knight, judging by the way Ser Davos has defended him and the soft care he holds in his eyes.
"As I have said before, so long as we stand on the same side, there is no reason to fear for your life," I tell the arguing pair. "However, I would like a moment alone with Ser Davos."
"Of course, Your Grace," Ser Davos replies quickly, nudging Gendry out of the room and whispering semi-harsh words to the young man about needing to learn etiquette before turning back and sitting down in the chair beside me.
"King Ryker had told me to listen to you once before passing judgment on her brother," I state before he can speak. "I have made mistakes by trusting in all others but her. There was a reason she told me to listen to your advice."
"I am just an old Knight, Your Grace," he murmurs.
"You, Ser Davos, are more than just an old Knight," I gently scold. "Your King trusts you, and I have learned a harsh but much-needed lesson. If she trusts you, then so will I."
"What exactly are you trusting me in, Your Grace?" Ser Davos asks wearily.
"Your counsel," I take a deep breath and lean forward to fully face him. "I have come to realize that the intentions of my Hand and the spider may not be as pure as I once thought they were."
"I don't understand," he furrows his brows.
"You were once The Hand to King Stannis?" I ask.
"Aye, I was, Your Grace."
"Then tell me truthfully, Ser Davos, if you were me, then what would you do if you were in my shoes?" I pause, looking to the cold window, then back to him. "My Hand and my King have been at tense odds with one another since they met in Meereen. And when we started the war with Cersei, my Hand seems to be more worried about getting revenge on his family than worrying about what his King says. When I was younger, my brother had always told me if a King cannot trust his Hand then they should expect a knife in his back. Learning of my father's fate I find it hard that there is some truth behind his words and my thoughts are forcing me to believe him in matter, despite how crazed he once was."
He lets out a ragged breath and looks to the floor. "In a time like this, I would advise the most simple solution. Think about what each of them wants at the end of all of this bloodshed and war. Lord Tyrion wants you on the Throne and is trying anything possible to get you there. But what does King Ryker want?"
"Peace," I whisper, feeling the tears start to build. "She wants our future generations not to fight with one another. For the wars to end so no children or innocents can be harmed even further."
"Between the two, which one of their desires matches your vision of Westeros? Which one of them can you count on to be honest and true consistently?"
My eyes meet his, and the guilt in my heart grows tenfold. "Thank you, Ser Davos," I whisper, allowing the tears that have gathered to fall. Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes and take a shuddering breath, trying to hold in the sob that threatens to escape.
"Is everything all right, Your Grace? I mean, between you and King Ryker?" he asks nervously.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head. "I fear that even if she returns to us, I may have lost her," I manage to say before breaking down.
Through the sobs, I hear his body move closer, enveloping my shaking form in a fatherly hug. "I'm sorry, My Queen," he mutters before holding me closer until the sobs come to a slow and painful stop. "King Ryker loves and adores you. I have seen it myself. And if what you fear comes to fruition, you need not worry. She is a Stark. The truest one I have met since her father, maybe even her grandfather."
"I want her to stand beside me out of love and because she believes in us, not because she swore vows."
"Then choose her, and make sure she knows that you will choose her no matter what comes before us. You will have time as we sail from here to King's Landing to make this right," he urges, pulling back and allowing me to wipe the tear stains from my face. "You and her have a love like none I have seen before. It will be hard moving forward. However, if she is to give you another chance, then take that chance and nurture it. Do not allow those who have come between you to let it fester until it dies."
"I will," I nod, taking another shuddering breath. "Thank you for—"
"No need, Your Grace," he stands up and waves off my gratitude bashfully.
"Of course," I let out a small laugh at his uneasiness. "You need to appear tough for these Northerners," I jest lightly.
He shakes his head as a ghost of a smile appears on his face. "I could care less what they think, Your Grace."
"You would make a true advisor, you do know that, don't you? With your honesty and compassion, any ruler would be lucky to have you by their side."
The lightness that was barely in the air comes to a halt as the smile fades from his lips. "I was lowborn, came out of my mother in the wretches of Flea Bottom," he says before taking his seat once more. "I did odd jobs for the merchants in King's Landing until I found a home on the Cobblecat. Worked for a man named Roro Uhoris."
"A Tyroshi?" I ask, furrowing my brow, a bit surprised.
"Aye, he was a Tyroshi smuggler," he confirms, letting out a laugh. "He taught me everything I knew up until he was executed by the Night's Watch for trading weapons to the Wildlings. That was the last lesson I learned from him. From there, I became one of the few smugglers known to have a name." He pauses, his eyes shifting down to the floor. "It was during Robert's Rebellion that I became the Onion Knight and turned my life around, tried to be better for my wife and sons, to be someone they deserved."
"It was Robert who knighted you?"
"His brother Stannis. I saw an opportunity and took it. I had a load of nothing but onions and salted fish I needed to sell to feed my family. It was approaching almost a year into the Siege of Storm's End. I had to sneak past the Redwyne fleet in the dead of night. I knew with the rumors going around that the garrison inside had been starving for some time, so I took the risk. In the end, it worked. My wares bought them the time they needed to wait for Lord Stark to lift the siege after Robert killed your brother on The Trident." He took a breath, waiting to see if I would anger, but when I give him a soft understanding smile, he continues. "As a reward, Stannis knighted me, gave me and my family lands on Cape Wrath, allowing our house to be built. As for payment for my past crimes, he took what was owed." I watch as he lifts his hand and removes his glove, showing me his disfigured fingers. "Once he was a wise and just ruler. It was when the Red Woman came after Robert's death that he changed," he finishes quietly, covering his hand once more.
"You stayed by his side regardless," I point out.
"Until I failed him. I sought to rid him of the Red Woman so he could see the wrongdoings he had committed. If he took the throne, he would have made a terrible King. He showed the Night's Watch and the Wildlings just how horrible his justice was when he ordered Mance Rayder to be set to the flame. Thank the gods that Jon Snow put an arrow through his heart before the fire reached him."
"Jon Snow," I nod. "You followed him next?"
"More out of happenstance," Ser Davos nods. "I was ordered to return to Castle Black for men and supplies when Stannis's sellswords abandoned him on the march to Winterfell. I was arguing with him about forcing the Wildlings he let past the wall to fight for Stannis when the Red Woman returned. The moment I had looked at her properly, I knew My King and the Princess were dead." He took a harsh breath and turned to me. "That night Jon was betrayed by the Night's Watch. They led him to a corner in the yard and took turns stabbing him before leaving him to die. Ghost's howling woke me just as the sun was rising. We brought his body back to the Lord Commander's chamber and had managed to send an envoy out to Tormund for help."
"That is what you meant when you said he gave his life," I remember his words.
"Aye. The one good thing the Red Woman ever did was bringing him back," he nods. "After Lady Sansa came to Castle Black, together we were able to convince Jon to plead to the Lords of the North to aid in taking back Winterfell from the Boltons. I knew the odds were against us, yet I believed in him, I believed in him up until he tried to rise against King Ryker."
"Yet you came North with him."
"For Gendry," Ser Davos states firmly. "I hadn't originally wanted the boy to come along on this journey. I was hoping to give him a better life rather than spending his days in Flea Bottom by serving as your blacksmith. However, the stubborn boy had other plans."
Shooting him a grin, I nod my head in understanding. "You care for him."
"He's deserved so much better than this life has given him. Every child born into this world deserves—"
His next words die as a roar so powerful cuts through the castle, shaking the walls as a gust of wind almost snuffs out the blazing fire within the hearth and blasts us with a force of frozen winds. My heart tremors as I realize that roar was what I heard before I was forced to watch my wife fall from Viserions back.
"Ser Davos," I stand to my feet just as a man dressed in black rushes through the door, fear radiating from his shaking form. "A b-b-beast f-f-flying for t-t-the Wall."
I look to Ser Davos, the moment our eyes meet, we rush through the door, pushing past the young frightened man. Together, we run through the roughly built walls that are barely holding the harsh winds at bay.
"You should stay here," Ser Davos says as we approach the doorway leading out to the meager courtyard.
"Ryker fell into a storm like this; I will not remain here," I yell over the howling winds.
Giving me one last frustrated glance, he takes my hand in his good one and guides us through the freezing gusts. The strong force slams against us as we battle against the whipping snow and shards, almost forcing us back into the safety of the castle.
As we hesitate for a moment, a plume of fire shoots through the sky, colliding with a bright blue stream of light, and the roars that follow could be felt shaking not only through the ground below our feet but shuddering through my bones.
"Drogon," I whisper to myself, desperately urging my body to go faster, dragging Ser Davos alongside me. "We have to get to them," I call out to him.
"I'm trying, Your Grace," I hear the pressing need in his voice, and we slip and slide through the icy mud, passing under the outer gate.
The closer we get to the vortex of winds, the harsher they get. I can feel the ice within it slicing through the soft skin I have exposed. The blood spilling from them freezes instantly against my frozen skin. As if we had finally broken through an invisible barrier, the winds stop in their place, the air so cold and still that my lungs turn frigid with every breath.
Yet what stops us in our tracks is the enormous beast that lies within the storm—a dragon almost three times the size of Drogon, covered with icy scales, four legs, translucent wings, and bright blue eyes holding storms within them, staring back at us.
"Impossible," I hear Ser Davos murmur as the beast opens its jaws, revealing teeth the size of Ryker's daggers and bright blue swirls of frozen heat.
"Khaleesi," my eyes snap to the man behind all of my most recent problems as he climbs down from the dragon's back, then helps the others down after him.
Turning my gaze from him, I frantically scan the arrivals, silently pleading to the gods that my wife is among them. But as the last figure dismounts, Ryker is nowhere to be seen. Ignoring the dragon's warning growls, I straighten my back and approach my brother-by-law.
"Where is she?" My voice nearly breaks, hope fading fast at the absence of my wife.
Pain etches Jon's face, his eyes filled with sorrow as he looks down. "The Night King had a spear," he whispers, clenching his fists. "Sh-." His choked words cut off by a sob that resonates with my own despair, suffocating my shattered heart as a scream of anguish rips from my throat.
"No." Collapsing to my knees, I plead desperately, slamming my fists into his chest. "You have to go back."
"We can't go back." Jon's voice trembles with pain as he wraps his arms around me, lifting my trembling body from the frozen ground.