@thescaledqueen​ sent: [ CHEEK ] {For Davos, along with a hug, when they cross paths again after she had been presumed dead. For when you're ready to write him again :) }
> from this meme lol
In his old age, the Onion Knight feared he was dreaming.
It would not be the first time he dreamt of the dead, of which were plenty since the War of Five Kings had even begun. Even now, he dreamt of his king-- not Bran the Broken, but a man of a more grim countenance and a more worried face-- and of the Red Woman, and of his son, and of all those that came before.
But this... he wondered if he was well and truly mad. If this woman who named herself Shireen Baratheon was true.
She came forward, though, and his heart stopped in his chest. His mouth went dry.
“My...” Princess, a word he’d kept only for her, had only ever spoken for her, died on his tongue as her lips brushed his cheek. Davos’ eyes welled with tears, and as he shut his eyes, the salt trickled into his beard.
Her arms wrapped around him, and he felt old. Old and mad.
But if this were madness, at least it was the joyous sort. If this were madness, and a sign of his going sick, then at least his death thought to be kind to him by presenting him with one of the brightest lights his life had ever had.
“Oh...” It ached, to feel her hug, but Davos returned it and did his best to keep the sob in his chest from rising. “I hope I haven’t yet lost my mind, princess.
“You’re--” He pulled back enough only to look upon her-- upon the side of her face where the greyscale had hurt and stopped-- and gave an old, teary smile. “You’re grown.”
And he could not believe it.
But he wanted to.
