"How? How do you know?"
Tommen shook his head. "That's the wrong question to ask. You know I won't answer."
...
Davos furrowed his brow with confusion.
Tommen sighed and leaned forwards. "You want Rickon Stark safe, no? I presume not only because he is an innocent young lad, but because Lord Wyman offered his support only if you'd bring the young boy into his custody. Well, I want him back too. I don't care where he goes, so long as he's safe."
Davos blinked. "You don't?"
"I met Rickon briefly when my father dragged us all up north to conscript Lord Eddard Stark as his Hand. I met all the Starks, actually. And though Eddard and Robb and Catelyn have passed, the remaining four have not. Now, Sansa and Arya and Bran I have clear eyes on, and can protect and even control without too much difficulty. But Rickon... In Skaagos he is beyond my reach. He was a nice lad, I remember. He doesn't deserve to suffer, or to die."
"No, he doesn't," Davos agreed. If Tommen spoke the truth about the other three Starks, then the likelihood of Lord Wyman siding with Stannis was slim to none. But perhaps with Rickon he can be convinced to not take up arms against His Grace, Davos thought. Neutrality was better than enmity. And Lord Wyman would likely aid them anyway, if only so far as it helped to undermine the Boltons.
Tommen smiled. "I'm glad you concur. Because you're going to be the one that gets him from those isles. I need a smuggler, and a good one to go that far. I can't think of many others better than you. All the North agrees Lord Bolton and his bastard make for ill wardens. But though I have all the Starks I need to arrange their replacement, my conscience demands I step in to help young Rickon. It demands that I send someone to brave those storm waters, to brave the cannibals.
To bring Rickon to White Harbour - into the custody of Lord Manderly - or else to Kings Landing. And if you succeed, I can promise Shireen will inherit Storm's End regardless of whether Stannis succeeds in his war against me or not. I can also promise I will bear no ill-will against your family in Cape Wrath, in spite your loyalties. I can even promise it in writing, if you should so desire. In case you are worried I will renege on my word."
"All that for one boy?" Davos asked, incredulous.
"For one innocent boy who also happens to be the son of Eddard Stark, yes." Tommen shrugged. "What's the harm? I never desired to hurt you or Shireen in the first place, nor even really Stannis, though I am by now resigned to it. You have served your liege, as you should, and Shireen is an innocent girl who has committed no crime, and she's my cousin besides. I'll not suffer the stain of kinslaying if I can avoid it."
Davos nodded, accepting the explanation for what it was. Then he frowned. "You said you desired I do you two favours."
Tommen nodded. "Regarding our common enemy beyond the Wall, and that truce I suspect might serve us well," he began. Behind him Ser Loras shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He did not seem best pleased by the notion of his present master aiding the man who'd killed his previous one.
"King Stannis has the wildlings well under control," Davos said.
"It isn't the wildlings that have caught my attention," the Boy King said, a grim smile gracing his lips. He turned back to face his guards. "Ser Loras?"
"Your Grace?"
"Fetch some bread and salt for us, would you? I'd like to speak to our guest alone."
Both Sers Loras and Balon frowned. "Your Grace-"
"I'm well aware of the risks, Ser," Tommen said. "But Ser Davos is an honourable man. He wouldn't turn his hands on me after taking bread and salt. And even if he did, I am armed and he is not, and you two will be waiting just beyond the doors in case of any danger. You have my permission to burst in if you hear the beginnings of a fight or I cry out for help or aid in any way."
Ser Loras seemed on the verge of grumbling some objection, but soon straightened his spine, martialled his face and nodded, leaving to do his king's bidding. A bowl of coarse salt and steaming fresh-baked bread soon arrived before Davos, and before the king's appraising eyes he dipped the bread in the salt and took a hearty bite. With a wave of his hand, the king commanded the bowl taken away and his guards to depart.
And then they were alone.
"You're a Kingslander, aren't you?"
"Aye," Davos said.
"When you were marched up here, what impression did the city give you?"
Davos frowned and scratched his beard. "Quiet," he said. "Just as smelly as the last time I was anywhere near here, but not as filthy. In some respects it seems better, but for the most part it seems unchanged."
"For the most part it is," Tommen agreed. "I've done my best - repaired a few broken buildings - armouries, granaries, storehouses and the like - shored up the walls, reformed the gold cloaks and come down hard against all sorts of crime. But there's still much work to be done to correct centuries of neglect. The city was not built to house so many, and the strain this mismatch causes shows if you know where to look."
Davos felt his impatience grow. "Forgive me, but why are you telling me this?"
Tommen turned his head briefly away to glance back out at the ocean. "So when I next tell you what I am about to you'll know I haven't lost my head. I'm not the Mad King come again, nor am I Prince Rheagar with his fickle notions and dreams. I'm a practical man with my head firmly planted on my shoulders, much like your own liege."
"And what do you want to tell me?"
Tommen's eyes met his own, emerald gaze sharpening. "The Others are rising again, and bringing an army of wights with them. 'The enemy,' your Red Witch calls them. She's not wrong."
Davos leaned back in his seat, a frown masking his incredulousness. "The long night that never ends," he murmured.
"Pardon?"
"Something she said," Davos answered. "How did you know? Hells, how can you be sure she's right?"
Tommen shrugged. "She has her secrets, and so do I. Though mine are likely more mundane than hers. The Lord Commander knows - you can confirm with him that I have not knowingly told you a single mistruth. Lady Melisandre knows. Stannis probably knows. I know. And now so do you."
Davos sighed even as he felt a small shudder creep up his spine at the thought. Stranger things have happened. Part of him wanted to refuse to believe such a fantastical tale, but his good sense knew better than to so flagrantly gainsay a king - even a bastard one. He would do as the Boy King suggested, however. He would be sure to ask Lord Snow - and the Lady Melisandre too - if the threat truly was as large as Tommen claimed. "So what do you want from me?"
"There are a variety of ways to counteract the coming darkness," Tommen began. "I've been making preparations. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel can kill White Walkers, as can most forms of fire. And it is said that wherever a White Walker and his wights go, winter follows. Cold and snow and so on. So it seems sensible to presume that if only we can stop them venturing south, or else find a way to kill all the White Walkers before they can raise enough wights, the long night your Red Woman spoke of may never come to pass, or else be ended before it can truly begin. But all that is useless without the numbers necessary to face the army I suspect the Others may be able to muster."
"And how many is that?" Davos asked, still holding his scepticism close to his chest.
Tommen shrugged. "Reports vary. There may be anywhere between a hundred to a thousand White Walkers, though likely not more. As for the numbers of wights they could raise... The cold in the far north means corpses don't rot, which means they can be raised as wights. So, assuming the worst possible outcome, we may be facing an invading army numbering anywhere up to four or five million troops? Certainly no less than one, given the vast numbers of wildlings that have lived and died beyond the Wall."
...
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