Game of Thrones: StormBorn

289AC

Davos frowned as he rode up beside his Lord. Despite having learned to ride after he earned his knighthood, the saddle still felt wrong to him. He knew some men got seasick on the ocean, and he wondered if he might have the same trouble on horses. Still, he followed where his lord went, and most of the martial host was on foot owing to the difficulty of getting horses to the Iron Islands.

"There it is Davos. Hammerhorn. Not a particularly impressive castle." Stannis grumbled, "And yet one we have to take while my brother claims Pyke. As always."

'Not touching that with a halberd.' Davos thought. There were just some issues that you didn't talk to Lord Stannis about unless you were his family or Maester Cressen. "Do you want the men to bring up the siege weapons?"

"Yes. I think they should. These Iron Islanders have repeatedly proven morons. Perhaps they will surrender faster if they see what we bring against them."

"Yes, sir."

Personally, Davos thought it might be better if they just started the bombardment entirely before demanding surrender. It had taken burning bales of hay being flung over the walls of Crow Spike Keep and Pebbleton to get them to surrender, and he wanted this blasted campaign over with at least as much as his lord did.

Still, he rode up to the gates as he had for all the other stupid barbarian castles on the Great Wyk, and presented his Lords ultimatum.

Gorold Goodbrother stood atop the gate, accompanied by his retinue.

"Greetings, Southerner. I take it you have come to demand the surrender of my keep?"

He stared up quizzically at the man. It was the first time one of the blasted Reavers had met him at the gate before they started burning their castles down. "Aye, that's true."

The Man nodded plainly, glancing at his men before turning back to Davos. "Let's hear your terms then."

Davos cleared his throat, back to the part he was equipped for then. "Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone, in the Name of his Royal Highness, Robert Baratheon, king of seven kingdoms and his royal brother, hereby formally requests the surrender of House Goodbrother of Hammerhorn and their submission to the King's Justice. If this surrender is met, Lord Stannis will be willing to intercede on behalf of House Goodbrother to the king, and will ensure that all your vassals are treated with respect befitting their status."

The Reaver glared down with hard eyes, looking at Davos and then back towards the army setting up for siege behind him.

"I have some concerns over the terms of this deal. I would like to negotiate a more amicable surrender."

Davos stopped for a second, thinking quickly.

"Do you have a negotiator who you would like to send?"

The man nodded and gestured to one of his men, who broke away from the wall.

"Yes, my Son Gornon will meet you in a moment. I expect him returned intact on your lord's honor, whether the negotiations go well or not."

Davos couldn't actually promise that, but he nodded nonetheless. Though he expected the boy would be fine, Lord Stannis was not the type to murder messengers.

The Gates parted slightly, and a young man walked out. His hair long and ruddy blond and his features bitter like most Iron Islanders. Davos nodded at the nervous-looking boy, smiling.

"Cmon, let's get this whole mess over with."

The boy, his face flushing at his nervousness being caught out, sputtered, before standing straighter. It was funny how he tried to make his voice sound deeper than it was. "Certainly," he said, raising his shoulders so as to appear bigger, though the effect was lost to a man on horseback.

He led the Goodbrother back to the siege camp, where he found Lord Stannis waiting at the gates, no longer mounted himself, but instead standing with the guard.

"Lord Goodbrother is willing to surrender, but would like to negotiate."

"Pah, he should have done that when he still had a fleet. Now he sends a boy to negotiate." His lord spat out the words like they were the brackish water of these isles. "Fine, come with me. Robert said to give you fools a chance as it stands."

He glanced down as the boy's facade crumbled. He was clearly unready for this, and Davos had to wonder why his father had even sent him our, to begin with.

'Probably because he didn't care if he died.' Davos thought though he tried not to show the way the idea disgusted him on his face.

The disregard that some Lords often showed for their own families had always been their worst aspect to him.

At least his own was not the same.