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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 8:35:52 GMT -5
The Magnar watched as they guzzled down his food and ale through beady black eyes.
"It is dangerous for an outlander to be wandering Skagos. Let alone during winter."
He grumbled, wiping a few droplets of bitter ale from his chin. Ominous tales had spread all over Westeros of the queer customs of the Skagosi, and it was clear that the superstitious among them were not friendly to strangers.
"What brings you here, from the fat Mer-Man of White Harbour? I heard he cast his lot in with Bolton, against whichever king has come from the south to unseat him."
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Post by oznerol on Jun 8, 2020 10:43:45 GMT -5
"The Merman has no love for the Flayed Man, Magnar"
Said Davos, in all honesty, he tried to look at the Skagosi in the eyes, and talked without hesitation, like a man with good intentions.
"The North Remembers and they know there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, particularly in Winter"
He sips some ale, it was strong and smelled slightly rancid, but it warmed his throat and belly.
"This man here, by the name of Wex Pyke, says Rickon, Ned Stark's son, is among you, Magnar. I come on behalf of the Mer-Man and the Fiery Heart, my lord Stannis, to bring this boy to his ancestral halls in Winterfell, where he shall rule the North and its peoples"
Davos puts the horn on the table again.
"I swear by gods old and new that this is true and that I want to bring no harm to you, your people or this boy. I just want to bring him home, where his kin are buried, lived and ruled"
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 11:21:05 GMT -5
"Who is this king fiery heart? Is he the one that has been burning wildmen at the Wall, offering them to his Red Rahloo?"
Magnar looked at Ser Davos directly, and grinned ominously. A few of his teeth were missing.
"We only know the Gods of our fathers here, outlander. Not your Fiery Heart's Red Lord. He does not belong here."
He started chewing on a piece of toughened meat. The Manderly knights looked at it askance, and then did the same down at their broth. One dropped his spoon.
"It's just pork. Pork!" The Magnar let out a bellowing laugh, and shook his shaggy head. Others down the Longhall joined him, lifting the solemn atmosphere somewhat. Whilst chewing, he leaned closer to Davos, so that the Onion Lord could smell his warm breath.
"I believe you, Davos Seaworth. But Winterfell is held by the Flayed Man, and Winter has Come. Your fiery heart has no hope, now that the snows have set in. The Mer-Men know this. Weak and slow as they are, they are still of the north."
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Post by oznerol on Jun 8, 2020 11:35:36 GMT -5
"The very same, Magnar"
He said, taking no offense.
"He does not, this Rh'llor, Skagos belongs to the Old Gods, no-one questions as much"
Davos kept eating normally. He presumed he had eaten human flesh at one of the infamous Flea Bottom's pots when he was but a kid, alongside rats and small animals, so he wasn't one to question or be afraid of what was he chewing and swallowing.
"I believe in Stannis. That's why I served him for many years. I was born in a gutter, you see? I don't even know when, to be honest"
He sips some broth.
"And he made me a knight and a keep to call mine, only at the cost of few fingertips, for I had past crimes to pay for"
Davos removes the glove on his mutilated hand.
"He is a just man, honorable and his is the birthright. He was robbed of his inheritance just like this kid, Rickon. He knows"
He puts the glove back on.
"I don't care about his Red God, I just believe in him. He is strong and able, what we need in Winter, not cruel lords with eyes of ice and a child born of incest warming his throne"
Seaworth sips again.
"You might not believe me, but my king is fairly smarter and more capable than any of the Flayed Men and he will win. It has been prophesized. It's a matter of time"
He looks at the Skagosi.
"Magnar, if the wold and the kid return to Winterfell and there's again a Stark to rally for, the North shall be reunited and law restored, the old order revived and the North shall remember and sing about how the lord of the Skagosi did what he had to"
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 12:49:31 GMT -5
The Magnar chewed slowly, listening intently, glancing down at Davos' missing fingers. Then he gave the Onion Lord a long look from behind his bushy eyebrows.
"Me and mine won't bend the knee to your King Stannis. Neither will the North. Even if he is half the man you say he is."
He concluded, with a grunt and grimace.
"But they will fight for Stark. This is why you have come."
The Magnar paused and set down his horn, then rose from his seat, hauling Davos and Wex Pyke up with him.
"Me and the outlander are going to get some fresh air. Don't eat the Mer-Men while I'm gone."
He announced, and the hall erupted with laughter. Seaworth was led out of the back entrance of the Longhall, into the Weirwood grove. A dozen red eyed trees stood vigil, sheltering the Magnar and his charge somewhat from the biting cold. But Winter was here, and the wind still bit deep. A low growl could be heard from behind the trees. Even the Magnar looked a little tense. A pair of green eyes stared out from the bushes and weeds that had sprouted around the tree roots. With a large hand, the Skagosson pushed Wex Pyke backwards.
"Stay back, Ironborn. If he smells you first, we are dead men."
Then, his voice grew softer, and he leaned closer to the Weirwoods.
"I bring a friend."
The Magnar took a gentle step forward, gingerly extending a hunk of meat. There was a rustle, and out from the undergrowth emerged a giant black wolf, snarling. The Skagosson threw the meat to the floor, and the wolf bounded forward, seizing the food in its jaws and ravaging it in mere seconds. Hesitantly, it came over to Davos, panting audibly. It licked the Magnar's hand, and gave Davos' own a sniff; the Onion Lord would feel the west nose of Shaggydog on the stumps of his fingers. Then, it padded away. The Magnar silently ushered Davos to follow. They would trudge past the trees to a small hut hidden and secluded by the Weirwood grove. Shaggydog stood guard outside. A woman emerged, tall, lean, and hard faced. She spat into the snow.
"You bring this kneeler, Magnar? What does he want?"
The Skagosson exchanged words with the Wildling in a harsh, clanging tongue, while the Onion Knight waited in the snow. She stared at Davos for a moment, unflinchingly. Then, she stood aside. Inside was a small fire, with food and bread laid out. Next to the flames sat a child. Hairy and unkempt, wrapped in furs, bright blue eyes glaring at Davos warily. He said nothing, gaze returning to the flames. The wildling and Magnar entered, and shut the elements out. The Magnar cleared his throat noisily, and ruffled the boy's hair.
"This is Rickon Stark. Last son of the Ned, save the bastard at the Wall."
With the mention of his father, the boy looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 8, 2020 13:07:42 GMT -5
The Magnar chewed slowly, listening intently, glancing down at Davos' missing fingers. Then he gave the Onion Lord a long look from behind his bushy eyebrows. "Me and mine won't bend the knee to your King Stannis. Neither will the North. Even if he is half the man you say he is." He concluded, with a grunt and grimace. "But they will fight for Stark. This is why you have come." The Magnar paused and set down his horn, then rose from his seat, hauling Davos and Wex Pyke up with him. "Me and the outlander are going to get some fresh air. Don't eat the Mer-Men while I'm gone." He announced, and the hall erupted with laughter. Seaworth was led out of the back entrance of the Longhall, into the Weirwood grove. A dozen red eyed trees stood vigil, sheltering the Magnar and his charge somewhat from the biting cold. But Winter was here, and the wind still bit deep. A low growl could be heard from behind the trees. Even the Magnar looked a little tense. A pair of green eyes stared out from the bushes and weeds that had sprouted around the tree roots. With a large hand, the Skagosson pushed Wex Pyke backwards. "Stay back, Ironborn. If he smells you first, we are dead men." Then, his voice grew softer, and he leaned closer to the Weirwoods. "I bring a friend." The Magnar took a gentle step forward, gingerly extending a hunk of meat. There was a rustle, and out from the undergrowth emerged a giant black wolf, snarling. The Skagosson threw the meat to the floor, and the wolf bounded forward, seizing the food in its jaws and ravaging it in mere seconds. Hesitantly, it came over to Davos, panting audibly. It licked the Magnar's hand, and gave Davos' own a sniff; the Onion Lord would feel the west nose of Shaggydog on the stumps of his fingers. Then, it padded away. The Magnar silently ushered Davos to follow. They would trudge past the trees to a small hut hidden and secluded by the Weirwood grove. Shaggydog stood guard outside. A woman emerged, tall, lean, and hard faced. She spat into the snow. "You bring this kneeler, Magnar? What does he want?"The Skagosson exchanged words with the Wildling in a harsh, clanging tongue, while the Onion Knight waited in the snow. She stared at Davos for a moment, unflinchingly. Then, she stood aside. Inside was a small fire, with food and bread laid out. Next to the flames sat a child. Hairy and unkempt, wrapped in furs, bright blue eyes glaring at Davos warily. He said nothing, gaze returning to the flames. The wildling and Magnar entered, and shut the elements out. The Magnar cleared his throat noisily, and ruffled the boy's hair. "This is Rickon Stark. Last son of the Ned, save the bastard at the Wall." With the mention of his father, the boy looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Seaworth simply nodded. He knew the North wouldn't kneel to Stannis, but they would to Stark... The last wolf of Winterfell, save for the bastard at the Wall. Davos silently uttered a prayer to the Smith while he followed the Magnar, grabbing Pyke by the elbow, the boy looked pale as a ghost. When they entered the grove Davos felt spied, watched by the judgemental and dead eyes of the trees, crying red tears of sap. The carved faces were as hard and menacing as the own lord of the Skagosi. When the man threw the meat and Seaworth saw the gigantic wolf he had to avoid cursing and swearing like the sailor he was. The beast was larger than any wolf he had seen: and as a man of the sail he hadn't seen much. However, he knew every Stark child had a direworlf: Robb's had died in the Red Wedding, or so he had heard. The Kingslander stood still as the wolf sniffed at him, he knew that he'd be a short work for the direwolf, so he tried to appear as harmless and friendly as possible, not that Davos was afraid of dying any longer, after surviving through a hell of fire and salt. Davos smelled of salt and water, of leather and sweat, warm and wet at the same time, no iron on him. When he saw the wildling he knew, for certain. The story of Pyke was true, there he was. Davos bows to enter the hut and his eyes flicker with emotion and excitement: he had him, he had the boy, the last male Stark. Davos nods as salute. "Hello, Rickon... I mean, Lord Stark"
Davos took a seat before the fireplace, in a small stool that the wildling had probably ocuppied previous to their arrival.
"I'm Davos, Davos Seaworth, they call me the Onion Knight: not very frightening, is it not?"He smiles, the sun-roasted skin wrinkled when he did. His teeth were well-kept and regular, even if he was missing a few pieces it was still a warm smile. "I have a lad your age, he's called Steffon. He's a good kid. I miss him. He has a dog, called Meatballs, but he would love to see your direwolf! How's it named?"Seaworth open his cloak. He has no weapon on himself, save the small knife made of bone he carried for eating, the clothes below are leathern, stained by salt and the winds, the tall boots are old and wearied down by many years of use. "Do you remember Winterfell, humm? I've heard it's quite a place"
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 13:37:24 GMT -5
The boy was silent for a moment, looking at the fire rather than Seaworth. The Onion Lord’s kindly face and gentle words set him at ease. It reminded him of Luwin, and Winterfell.
“Shaggydog.”
Rickon murmured, innocent eyes turning to Davos.
“I miss Bran.”
Stark looked down at his feet. Osha grimaced, patting the boy on the shoulder.
”Little Lord, he’s come to take you home. Back to Winterfell.”
Stark said nothing. He didn’t miss Winterfell. He missed his father and mother, Robb, Bran, Sansa, Arya. Jon. Rickon folded his arms, staring back into the fire as tears slowly streamed down his face.
“He was angry, before. Made the wolf angry. Chewed off my brother’s fingers. Now, he’s just sad. Grieving. Like the wolf.”
Whispered the Magnar, a hint of pity in his voice and soft gaze. The boy had babbled incoherently about his brother, assuring them he’d survived. But the wildling woman had spoken no word of it. Bran was probably lost, or dead.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 8, 2020 14:49:34 GMT -5
The boy was silent for a moment, looking at the fire rather than Seaworth. The Onion Lord’s kindly face and gentle words set him at ease. It reminded him of Luwin, and Winterfell. “Shaggydog.” Rickon murmured, innocent eyes turning to Davos. “I miss Bran.” Stark looked down at his feet. Osha grimaced, patting the boy on the shoulder. ”Little Lord, he’s come to take you home. Back to Winterfell.”Stark said nothing. He didn’t miss Winterfell. He missed his father and mother, Robb, Bran, Sansa, Arya. Jon. Rickon folded his arms, staring back into the fire as tears slowly streamed down his face. “He was angry, before. Made the wolf angry. Chewed off my brother’s fingers. Now, he’s just sad. Grieving. Like the wolf.” Whispered the Magnar, a hint of pity in his voice and soft gaze. The boy had babbled incoherently about his brother, assuring them he’d survived. But the wildling woman had spoken no word of it. Bran was probably lost, or dead. Said Davos. The dead and the living both."I have another at the Wall, with your brother Jon, but he's older, like twice your age. A good lad too"He smiled. The kid has his sister's eyes. Probably his mother's. Davos had seen lady Sansa during a tourney and had a faint memory of her, but he remembered the eyes. The kid had those. Tully looks, he had been told.
"Shaggydog is a good name, he's certainly quite furry. I almost peed myself out there, ya' know?"The seaman laughed heartily, trying to make the body feel good.
"Yes, she's right, I want to bring you home, my Lord. I swear on the old and the new gods I shall see you safe and sound in your father's halls"He grabs the boy's shoulders. Seaworth looks at the Magnar. "He has suffered much. He didn't ask for it, neither diserved it. I wish I had met you in happier times, Rickon"Davos didn't give much thought about Brandon possible survival. Albeit older they said the boy was lame and thus unable to rule. Sad fate. A broken family. The Onion knight wished his would be spared more trouble, now he longed for Devan at the Wall and his smaller kids at the Rainwood. He wanted to stay at home, by the fireplace, trying to read old tales about the sea, with mermaids and dragons. He missed his older children, but there was no time to cry.
"I will take you and Shaggydog and Osha, if she wants to, to my king, Stannis, and he will place you in your father's throne!"He looks for something in his cloak, in a pocket. "Here, take it. I carved it for you, on my way here"Davos handed the kid a carved wooden direwolf, the best he could do. Probably the kid had far better toys once than this crudely made thing, but Davos supposed it was better than nothing. He felt sorry for Rickon, for himself and for all the parents and children that had to suffer because of this war. He felt old.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 17:31:56 GMT -5
Rickon took the direwolf into his hands, holding it up to his face, running his hands over the head. It reminded him of Summer and Grey Wind, of that day they had found the wolves in the snow. For a brief moment, the boy smiled, but the fleeting memory was replaced by the harsh reality of death and exile. Winter had come, and it was harsh and unforgiving. He looked at Osha, then the Magnar, then back to Davos. A child’s gaze was meant to be sweet and innocent, but Rickon had been forced to come of age before his time. He’d seen war and death to last a lifetime before the age of ten.
“I want to go home.” He decided, suddenly, looking back down at the wolf Davos had carved him. Osha exhaled, and the Magnar nodded grimly.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 8, 2020 17:57:46 GMT -5
Rickon took the direwolf into his hands, holding it up to his face, running his hands over the head. It reminded him of Summer and Grey Wind, of that day they had found the wolves in the snow. For a brief moment, the boy smiled, but the fleeting memory was replaced by the harsh reality of death and exile. Winter had come, and it was harsh and unforgiving. He looked at Osha, then the Magnar, then back to Davos. A child’s gaze was meant to be sweet and innocent, but Rickon had been forced to come of age before his time. He’d seen war and death to last a lifetime before the age of ten. “I want to go home.” He decided, suddenly, looking back down at the wolf Davos had carved him. Osha exhaled, and the Magnar nodded grimly. Davos messes up Rickon's hair a bit more.
"Boy, I will take you there. I don't promise it won't be a bit snowy when we arrive, but... Winter came and is here to stay"He turns to the Magnar.
"Magnar, if there are some among your men that would follow to battle, they're welcomed to. The ones who don't want to wither and die in winter but with a blade in hand and ale in the belly"
Seaworth smiles kindly. "And thank you both, you kept hope alive: that won't be forgotten"He had the boy, he had the wolf. Starks were back to the board, Boltons be screwed and rot in the Seven Hells. Lord Snow would gladden with such news, he bets. "You will be soon reunited with your sister Arya and your brother Jon, isn't that great? And you will get to see a giant, a princess and maybe play with my son, huh?"Davos said, looking back to the savage-looking boy. Seaworth couldn't posibly know one Stark was beyond the sea -a mere imposter wearing her face- and the other laid dead.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 8, 2020 18:24:38 GMT -5
“We burned our ships for firewood. But if men want to go with you, they are free to. Better they die blade in hand than freezing to death.”
The Magnar looked to Osha. The wildling would certainly follow her little lord; she’d become loyal to him unto death, a strange sort of fervourous loyalty that only an endangered child could inspire in a woman or man.
“My son will lead them. Let him earn his manhood in his first winter. May the Gods protect you, Davos Seaworth. I’ll have my men see you to your boat on the morrow.”
-
They had a good night’s rest in the Magnar’s halls. The winter sun rose, white and fleeting. Even in the day, it was bitterly cold, and the snows had abated for a few hours at least. The Skagossons escorted Davos and his company down past the first village he had encountered yesterday, with two score of the hairy warriors following suit. Rickon and Osha were given a ‘unicorn’ to ride on. No horses dwelt here, so these horned goats were the best they had. Shaggydog followd at its heels, but was well behaved, for now. They would say their farewells, the Magnar riding back to his holdfast as the Skagossons joined Davos and his men aboard the ship. Though few in number, they were fierce and eager for battle, and true to his word the Magnar had put his third son in command. Rodrik, his name was, almost the spitting image of his father save for being less hairy.
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Post by oznerol on Jun 9, 2020 3:06:54 GMT -5
“We burned our ships for firewood. But if men want to go with you, they are free to. Better they die blade in hand than freezing to death.” The Magnar looked to Osha. The wildling would certainly follow her little lord; she’d become loyal to him unto death, a strange sort of fervourous loyalty that only an endangered child could inspire in a woman or man. “My son will lead them. Let him earn his manhood in his first winter. May the Gods protect you, Davos Seaworth. I’ll have my men see you to your boat on the morrow.” - They had a good night’s rest in the Magnar’s halls. The winter sun rose, white and fleeting. Even in the day, it was bitterly cold, and the snows had abated for a few hours at least. The Skagossons escorted Davos and his company down past the first village he had encountered yesterday, with two score of the hairy warriors following suit. Rickon and Osha were given a ‘unicorn’ to ride on. No horses dwelt here, so these horned goats were the best they had. Shaggydog followd at its heels, but was well behaved, for now. They would say their farewells, the Magnar riding back to his holdfast as the Skagossons joined Davos and his men aboard the ship. Though few in number, they were fierce and eager for battle, and true to his word the Magnar had put his third son in command. Rodrik, his name was, almost the spitting image of his father save for being less hairy. Said Davos amicably.
"Now, little Rickon, I'll leave you to rest, see you in the morning"Seaworth left the hut with a nod to Osha, the spearwive. Once outside he glanced the direwolf, which he felt was no threat now. He grabs the boy, Wex Pyke, on his way into their lodgings -merely a spot of empty straw in the longhall, to the chagrin of Woolfield-.
"We did it! Lord Stark and their world are with us. Cannot wait to bring him before His Grace"
He hadn't felt such an excitement in many moons and that night he barely slept, his mind going circles about the recent events. He had to reach the White Harbor, as soon as possible. Next morning he got up at the rooster's first chant and he awoke his three companions like a excited kid on the day of the name. The former smuggler also managed to buy for a few coppers and a stag two large-sized spiral-like horns, that would delight princess Shireen and his own son Devan. But it was beaten by the sight of the actual animal: while not the pansy horse he had seen embroidered at castles and manors, it certainly was curious enough. Wasn't the first time a tale had been too fantastical to be true. Seaworth bid farewell to the Magnar, thankful, and spent the road to the boat chatting eagerly with Rickon, trying to cheer him up with tales of his travels across the Narrow Sea, from Braavos to Myr. Rodrik himself, who was far younger than his rugged appareance indicated, seemingly had his curiousity piqued and Davos ended talking for a small audience who laughed at the japes and yelled with anger whenever some injustice befell the smuggler far younger self. The boat appeared on the horizon, finally, a merman fluttering in the wind. Davos felt fulfilled, at ease with himself. Thanks Mother for letting the boy live through hell. Soon thereafter, the cog left the isle, carrying a new cargo consisting of a score of fur-clad ferocious warriors, an excited smuggler and Hand of the King, a Lord of Winterfell, a direwolf and a spearwife.
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