Chapter Text
It has been years, and Shireen is by now used to men, to soldiers, to travel and warfare and encampment. She even believes that she is growing used to the harshness of the North, for all the time she has spent here, her father refusing to allow her to leave his side or be taken to some safer harbour as he has fought - first for the succession after her Uncle's untimely death, and to defeat the false kings, and now to stand with the North against the threat of the Others.
It is unsettled still, this land of snow and ice, though the ladies Stark have been restored to Winterfell by Shireen's father at long last after bloody campaigning, there is yet no King in the North, though Stannis has offered to recognise Lord Commander of the Night's Watch Jon Snow by virtue of his Stark blood, and ally with him for a successful seceding of the North once it is whole again and purified. Shireen understands that the Lord Commander does not shy from the task out of fear or from lacking a sense of duty - barring perhaps her own father, he is the most dutiful, honourable man she has yet met in her travels through the realm, though she sees that it weighs heavy upon him - but that he feels his claim is inferior to that of his brothers, the true-born Starks.
The Lord Commander is the only Stark even in part that Shireen has ever met, and while she believes that he could make a fine king should it ever come to pass, she knows that although it is inconvenient for their common cause that there is no king of their own to rally the North to, Stannis respects Jon Snow's choice not to take up a crown he feels he could only ever be the caretaker of, and while it is certain that they would now be in a better position to stand against the threat from beyond the Wall if there had been a true and fixed rallying point for the North, still, many have come.
Indeed, today further reinforcements are expected to report to Stannis and the Lord Commander and their assembled council of Northern heads of house, for word was sent from the Bay that Davos and the ships sent to bring the reinforcements had docked, and today the party was sighted by wildling scouts along the track, and Shireen has been anxious over it, not only for the return of Davos after his lengthy mission away to secure this aid, but to see who comes, for she knows that along with Stormlanders and mined dragonglass from Dragonstone, Davos has also been to that much-feared stone isle of Skagos, bound to bring warriors and yet more obsidian to arm the forces Stannis and Jon Snow have amassed along the Wall, for there is an abundance of both in that dread place.
Shireen has gone out to watch them arrive, has waited all day to hear that they are sighted near to the castle where they and their cargo are to be received, where the war council will take place and both forces and dragonglass likely redistributed along the Wall to arm every keep appropriately.
She stands atop the wall that must be breached to enter the castle and sees Davos first through the thick grey-white of the light here and the flurries of snow that the wind kicks up to obscure sight, and it warms her heart to see him appear weary but whole, for her father asks much of him but Davos has never complained of his duties, has always served Stannis and his family unquestioningly, loyally, not balking even at being asked to sail famously treacherous seas to treat with famously fell people.
He rides through the gates in a throng of them, and Shireen cannot help her smile as she quickly darts along the wall and across the open walkway that encircles the yard so that she can see properly, so that she will have no difficulty running down the stairs to greet him once he and his party are fully within the walls, though there are so many she now sees that some must inevitably remain beyond the walls, for Davos has brought far more southern soldiers than Shireen had thought were left to call, but he has also brought a great host who are so different to the new southerners that they can be nothing but the much hoped-for Skagosi.
No one hinders her as she makes her way to the railing by the stairway, indeed even now after so long by the Wall, travelling between the various keeps with her father, there are many who still shy from her, so both her status and her face mean that she stands at the first to welcome the newly-arrived.
Shireen has seen much in her time following her father through the realm, and she has learnt much, but she has never seen such a thing as this, such folk as this - savages, these Skagosi, vile barbarians who speak only the Old Tongue, worse than wildlings, she has heard, blood of the First, consumers of their foes' flesh - and she sees that the men already assembled are uneasy with their arrival, are regarding them with fear and suspicion, but to Shireen's eyes these people, though they appear strange, are also strangely fair.
Men and women she sees, strong and fierce, looking not enough like wildlings to be mistaken for them, with their painted faces, their arms and hands also marked, she sees, with runes and sinuous designs and sigils she cannot decipher, and even the braids of their hair are different to the styles she is accustomed to seeing, some with bones or silver in theirs, or dragonglass, and she cannot recognise all the furs she observes them clad in.
“Fuckin' Skaggs,” she hears someone spit, another muttering,
“Least we won' have to burn the dead no more - jus' feed 'em ta this lot!” and another asks in an undertone,
“Ain' one of 'em s'posed t' be a Stark?”
Shireen believes there is some truth to the last, that the youngest Stark child was sent to Skagos for his protection when the wars began, and remained there, that it was he whom the Lord Commander sent word to of the Others, asking for warriors and obsidian, if the black isle could spare either, for aid.
They have come, so the Stark must live, must be with them, be raised enough in their estimation to have mustered so great a force to come here bearing so much dragonglass to arm those who yet have none, but Shireen does not see a clear leader among these Skagosi. She sees that there are southerners who have ridden close to Davos, who look to be the leaders of their men, but among the Skagosi no one individual looks to Shireen to be obviously their head - even among those who flank Davos on the right there is no obvious hierarchy that Shireen can make out, and she wonders whether perhaps they display status in ways that she is simply not used to noting.
She can see Davos squint against the grey-bright light for a familiar face, and he has yet to see her, but she cannot call to him - she will go down to greet him properly, once he has been received by her father and the Lord Commander, she is no longer a child who may run as she pleases to throw her arms about an old friend, however dear - but he does see her father, for Stannis strides from the great door with the Lord Commander and a few others of the council in tow, and he calls in greeting,
“Ser Seaworth! Long have we awaited you!”
Shireen can see Davos' fatigue in his dismount, but he kneels before her father all the same and his voice is clear and strong when he replies,
“Your Grace, we would have come sooner but for the storms.”
“But come you have, and with better result than we could have hoped for,” Stannis says appraisingly, casting a hard eye over those assembled, and addressing them,
“You are all of you welcome - I will receive your commanders within, and we will discuss the matter of obsidian distribution, and which strongholds require reinforcement. In the meantime, you may camp where it please you. Come, Davos, we have much to speak of - ”
Shireen takes advantage of the slight confusion that is some of the southerners breaking from the crowd to follow her father, some of the Skagosi who had flanked Davos calling to their people to relay Stannis' words and then going to greet the Lord Commander, and she flies down the stairs and darts in to intercept Davos before he can disappear inside in her father's wake, crying,
“Davos!” to gain his attention, and then throwing caution and propriety to the winds and cutting across the path of one of the Skagosi who moves fluidly aside so that she can throw herself into Davos' ready embrace and be swung as he laughs,
“Princess Shireen! Oh, it is good to see you well!”
He settles her on her feet but takes another moment to release her, and she beams at him with joy for how well he looks, for she has been afraid for him, for all her faith in his abilities, and she clasps his hands tightly and tells him,
“I am so relieved to see you safe!”
“And I you, princess. We'll talk later, shall we? I mustn't keep your father waiting,” Davos says, eyes twinkling, and she laughs just to see him happy and lets him go, ushers him inside with waves of her hands and agrees,
“No, of course - go, go, I shall see you later!” and he bows to her and then hastens after her father, the Lord Commander flashing her a quick smile as he goes, too, accompanied by some of the Skagosi and in deep conversation with them already, and Shireen is briefly embarrassed to have shown such lack of decorum in front of all these people whose first impression of the princess will now be that she is a silly girl, but then she takes hold of herself and decides no, she is princess, and it is her right to greet her father's Hand when he is so successfully returned from so dangerous an appointment, and she will do so as she sees fit.
She will not be cold and distant as her mother was - it will win her no love, and she is already unable to win it purely on the strength of being an appealing sight. No, if she is to be a good queen one day, she must be herself, and what she is before all else, is dutiful, but kind. That is what she will be known for. She will not cloak herself in artifice and disdain out of fear. She will be seen to appreciate those who serve her and her father so well. That is all the hope she has that perhaps, one day, the sight of her will gladden the hearts of her people rather than twist their mouths with distaste and their hearts with wariness.
She keeps her head high and her smile steady as she looks upon those who have come to the aid of the North, and she does it even when the southern forces who notice her seem torn between gawking and flinching, although the truth of her illness and how it appears must now be common knowledge throughout the realm, and she takes care to also smile graciously upon the Skagosi who are to a one busy removing themselves from within the yard, no doubt to camp beyond the walls somewhere on their own where they will not have to listen to abuse such as she heard just before when they have proven nothing in coming here but that they are noble enough to do so even though the threat of the Others does not actively concern them at present.
A few of them appear to notice her, but they give her no more than cursory glances, and she almost feels her smile slip at the realisation, the shock of it, and she casts her mind back to a few moments before when she nearly ran down one of them in her haste to greet Davos and she thinks that he also neither flinched nor balked to look upon her face, merely moved so she would not collide with him, and Shireen has no answer for it.
So she does as she prefers to when there are things she does not know, and goes to seek solace among books and the comfort of their amassed wealth of knowledge, for even if they can give her no answer to her particular question, she is soothed still by their presence and their possibilities.
Ser Tarly's quiet, studious presence she also finds soothing, and she is not surprised to find him among the books also, though she waves aside his rising to bow to her when she enters and greets him informally, with a smile.
“Please, remain seated, Sam, you know I'll not stand on ceremony in this holy place,” she jokes, and his smile is nervous both for her insistence upon familiarity and her mild blasphemy, for it is true that her father no longer observes the faith of the Seven, or of the old gods, nor of the red god, or any, in fact, and Shireen herself has come to feel that only knowledge is truly sacred.
“My lady,” he acknowledges, for he won't argue with her or tease her back, he's never quite been brave enough yet to try either even though she and Gilly, his lady and her lady's maid now for quite some time, have an easy and familiar friendship with one another, and Sam instead asks her,
“How looked Ser Seaworth?”
“Very well, Sam - I am so glad he has returned. And so successfully, too, you should see how many came with him,” Shireen says, sitting down by him to take a look at what he is reading,
“And I believe we may now have enough dragonglass for all!”
“I pray you are correct, my lady,” Sam replies heavily, casting a gloomy glance at the papers on the table - inventory sheets, Shireen sees, how many people they have and at which castles, where the most aid is required.
“You will be presenting this at the council?” she asks him, and he nods, a shadow of haunting passing over his face, and Shireen reaches to place her hand over his in comfort for a moment, because Samwell Tarly is knighted now for having slain one of the Others, for being the one to discover the power of dragonglass to destroy them, and she knows that he likely better than most knows how difficult this war will be, and she also knows that valour in battle does not comes easily to him, and so she respects his decision to swear to her family even more, to remain here when once he had the chance to be away with Gilly and the children.
“You will do well, Ser Tarly,” she tells him with conviction,
“It will be well. I have faith in you, and so does my father.”
“My lady, you know we can never thank you enough - ”
“Please don't, Sam,” she begs him, smiling kind as she can and cutting him off for she knows what he will say,
“It was only what was right. My father saw that, in the end. You know how well I love Gilly, and the children. You know I will do everything I can to keep them from harm. Whatever happens here, or along the Wall, I must remain by my father's side, that is my duty, but if things go poorly, you have my word I will send your family South, and I will see them safe under the protection of my cousin and Ser Seaworth's family.”
“You are too kind, my lady,” Sam says, voice thick with emotion, and she presses his hand and then releases it, shaking her head.
“Nonsense!” she insists promptly,
“My first duty must be to my people, and I consider you and Gilly and the children my people. And I know how you fear for them, Sam, and how vital you are to the success of this War, with all your knowledge and experience. We rely on you greatly, and so it won't do to have you worrying for your family when you already carry such a burden of responsibility. It is only proper that I help alleviate your concerns where I can.”
“When all this is over,” Sam says gravely, holding her gaze,
“I know they'll write books about you, my lady, when you are a great queen, and I hope you'll let me write the first.”
She can't help but laugh at that, although she sees only utter sincerity in his face, but she composes herself so he won't think she mocks him, and takes care to let him see all her gratitude for his loyalty and his pure, sweet nature.
“Ser Tarly, I would be honoured to have the great scholar who discovered how we might defeat the Others write of my exploits, pale as they no doubt shall in comparison to your own,” she tells him, all truth beneath the courtly manner, and then she smiles at him and pats his hand again and takes up one of the papers upon which he has written of how dire the need at Long Barrow is for dragonglass to arm its people, and she looks it over with a frown.
“I do not like how they are left to last so often,” she murmurs,
“They deserve no less than anywhere else. I believe they are passed over because the bulk of their garrison are women.”
“I could not say, my lady,” Sam replies, sounding nervous again,
“But I have to bring it to the King's attention.”
“I will support you, Sam. My father is burdened at present with many concerns, but he trusts my judgment, and yours. If you have any suggestions for how we can fortify our defences most efficiently, please don't hesitate to tell us, or think that your voice won't be counted,” Shireen entreats,
“I promise you that it will be. We rely on your knowledge of all this - you know that in the absence of Ser Seaworth my father has looked to you most often for your understanding of the castles and their requirements. We will continue to look to you.”
“It's an honour, my lady,” Sam hastens to assure her, but then his insecurity shows itself in how he fidgets when he adds,
“But I feel the weight of it, and I am not always sure I am the right man for the task.”
“No righter man than the best man, and that is you, Ser Tarly, you must not doubt it,” she says as staunchly as she can, emphasising his title, and he glances at her and smiles quickly, then returns his attention to the papers, frowning hard, until he finally asks slowly,
“Do you suppose... when I present this, would it be alright if you were there?”
“I will ask to be present,” Shireen says calmly,
“I do not think my father will refuse me. He has told me frequently of late that if anything were to happen to him in the course of this war, he has made provisions for me to take his place at once so the realm will not be leaderless. I believe he will welcome my participation in the councils if I express an interest in them. My mother may not have given him a son to be King after him, but I will do what I can as Queen if it comes to that, and I will need to know about all of this.”
“You will be a great queen, one day,” Sam tells her solemly, and then with a shaky smile echoes her own words,
“You must not doubt it!”
She laughs again at his faith in her abilities and again for this small joke between them, a sign that his nerves are dissipating however slowly, and jostles his elbow with her own where it rests on the table, grinning at him.
“Then let us go to my father, ser,” she declares,
“And between us we'll have the war won before Gilly puts the children to bed!”
All the uncertainty of earlier is forgotten as Sam laughs aloud and she helps him gather together all that he has written and must be brought before the King and the council. These are things that Shireen can do, her duty, and what is right, and it is enough.
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