Nothing Of My Stars

Dragonstone's climate was a whirl of grey, the waves constantly chopping. Joe wondered if these waters were ever calm.

['Probably Not. . .']

There she loomed, the citadel of Dragonstone. Walls of black stone towered and peaked against the cliff side. Compared to Winterfell, both castles boasted architectural brilliance. Where Winterfell exuded an ancient, everlasting aura that gave you the impression that the castle was a living thing, Dragonstone had a stiff, non-personified, no-nonsense contrast. A castle with no soul, a tool, a means to an end.

Lucas and Joe rowed ashore, their old cog parked in the bay.

Despite being from the steppes and being relatively small and nimble, Cookie was too large a horse to bother transporting her ashore on the rowboat, and the thought of Stannis taking offense at Void's vicious presence gave Joe a headache.

The animal companions remained on the ship.

"Mind the boat," Joe said, pretending to give Void a critical job. The Shadowcat accepted the responsibility happily enough.

A party of 30 men armed to the tooth waited at the beach, eyeballing Joe as he and Lucas dragged their rowboat onto the sand.

"A thousand pardons," Joe put on his formal voice, just how father taught him, "Inform his Grace, Lord Stannis, that one of Eddard Stark's bastard sons has come to pay his respects."

The weirwood medallion hanging from the hilt of Icebreaker jingled in the wind, the white eye of the winking Shadowcat seemingly staring deep into every man who caught its gaze. Suddenly they recalled a story about a boy who easily defeated Jaime Lannister, and they collectively held their breath.

The only man not to flinch was the one who appeared to be their leader. He eyed Joe up and down, assessing the sincerity in Joe's words. With an approving nod, he then said, "I shall. Your weapons."

Joe raised a twitching brow, "I am a knight, Ser Joe of House Nix."

The guard captain remained stone-faced, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade, "Your. Weapons."

"You want our weapons? Fine."

Joe glanced at Lucas, signalling to comply. They each removed their weapons. Lucas handed over his two daggers, and Joe held out Icebreaker.

"Go ahead," Joe said through a thin smile, "Take it if you can."

The guard captain snatched Icebreaker from Joe's hands, but the moment he did, a searing pain burned his flesh. Cold, the kind so chilling that it sears at the bone.

"Ah, fuck!" the captain said, dropping Icebreaker like a hot potato.

Joe chuckled, buckling Icebreaker back to his waist where it belongs, "I guess the Lord of Light can't protect you from the cold?"

After an awkward negotiation, Joe explained he was the son of Eddard Stark. Honour this and honour that. The troops of Dragonstone warmed to Joe to the point they felt comfortable asking about his exploits.

The lads talked on the beach for a while, shooting shit, joking and fucking around. The men spoke of the recent tensions. Stannis was mobilizing his bannermen for war, hence the tense reception Joe received at the beach. They asked about Joe's travels, to which Joe happily answered.

"Come," the guard captain said, "We will escort you."

The path to Dragonstone's citadel was a thin stone walkway that zig-zagged over the deadly rocky oceanside below. Joe took this moment to give Lucas the run-down.

"This bloke we're meeting doesn't fuck around," Joe told him, "So let me do the talking. But if you do talk, make sure you address him as 'Your Grace'."

They led Joe and Lucas into the castle and to a small holding room, where they waited until the guard captain came back.

"He'll see you now."

Stannis Baratheon stood at the other side of the war room, brooding over battle plans. Grey sky shun through the balcony behind him, casting his visage in shadow. The great weirwood table Aegon the Conquerer commissioned over 300 years ago glowed orange, the candles lit inside.

Joe announced when he entered the war room, "Your Grace, it is an honour."

"I'm too busy winning back the Seven Kingdoms to suffer any visitors," Stannis said dryly, "But for Eddard Stark's son, exceptions can be made."

"My father always spoke fondly of you," said Joe, "Ever the soldier, my Lord Father. Prowess on the battlefield would equate to respect in his eyes. My favourite story was the one where you destroyed the Greyjoy fleet."

That's when Davos Seaworth, standing silently to the side, caught Joe's eye.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, as I live and breathe!"

Lucas remained quiet, just as Joe instructed. He raised a brow and thought, 'Seaworth? Where have I heard that before?'

Davos could not hide the confusion on his face as he shook the enthusiastic hand of Joe, "Well met, Joe?—"

"Ser Joe," Stannis said sharply, "Knighted by an oath-breaking Kingslayer, yet still a knight all the same."

Joe chuckled, "I thank the gods for that technicality every day. Forgive me for gushing. You two have no idea how legendary you are."

Davos was taken aback by that, "I've been called a number of things in my time — A Crabbers son, a no-good smuggler — never legendary."

"That's just because no one knows you," smiled Joe, "A man who slipped through a blockade to deliver food to starving men just because you thought it was right. Pretty legendary if you ask me."

"Thank you, Ser. That's very kind."

Joe continued, "I mean it. With Stannis at the helm and you by his side, the only dynamic duo that even comes close would be Lucas and I. Ain't that right, my loyal friend?"

Lucas was daydreaming over the large map of Westeros when Joe pat him on the back, "Hm? Oh, right."

Davos could see the layer of salt covering Lucas' almond-skinned nose in a faint hue of white, "And who might you be, young man?"

"Lucas Leonard, Your Grace."

Joe nudged him in the ribs and whispered, "Not that one. . ."

Little did he know that Lucas was trolling him, 'Be more specific next time,' his eyes mockingly replied.

"Leonard? That wouldn't be by the famed pirate Lucan Leonard, would it?" The Onion Knight asked.

"It would."

The small talk wained on Stannis' patience, "Smugglers and pirates alike. Speak, Snow. You don't look like you're here to offer me your sword. What brings you here?"

"A couple of Four things," said Joe as he prowled around the map table of Westeros, his hand slowly tracing along the coast of the Vale, "But before that. My name is Nix, not Snow."

Stannis scoffed, "Only a King can legitimize a bastard."

"That doesn't make much sense," Joe replied, poking tongue against cheek, "If that were the case, which King legitimized the Baratheons? Or what about the Starks, Lannisters, Martells. . ."

"I'll pardon your facetiousness this once," Stannis spoke with a bitter tone, "You know very well that's different."

"Is it? All of these ancient bloodlines from the Age of Heroes did the same thing as me; create their own House. And considering we all come from men before marriage even existed, technically, everyone is the spawn of a bastard."

By the end of his rant, Joe felt deflated. Even in his past incarnation, where life and liberty was the best they had ever been in the history of humanity, there still existed bullshit inequality. You can imagine how pointless it felt to discuss hierarchal nonsense with the Lords and Ladies of Westeros. Words falling on deaf ears.

"In any case," yawned Joe, "Would you like to know my four reasons of visiting?"

"You'll tell us anyhow, I imagine," Stannis almost allowed himself to smirk.

"Reason one and two, the legendary Stannis the Mannis and his Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth."

"Hand? I haven't named Ser Davos my hand."

Joe searched his memory for the sequences of the TV show, "You haven't? My mistake. Anyhow, the third reason—"

At that moment, a red dress of flowing silk and satin wandered through "My King."

"Is her," finished Joe, astonished by the quaint timing of Melisandre's entrance.

Melisandre's gaze flashed wide open. She inspected Joe up and down. First, his amber eyes, then Icebreaker at his hip, back to his eyes again. She crept slowly toward him, placing a hand on his cheek, "Strange. The Lord of Light shows me nothing of your flames."

Not the answer Joe wanted to hear, "Nothing? Not even a whisper? A vision, perhaps?"

"Nothing."

Joe shook his head, "The Old Gods, The Lord of Light. . . It seems none can see my stars."

Lucas raised a brow, "You want to know your fate?"

"Not necessarily. I'm just confirming facts. The three-eyed raven was unable to green see into my past. And now the Lord of Light can't give a red priestess any messages about me."

Melisandre stirred where she stood, "The three-eyed raven?"

"Never you mind about that, my dear," Joe held out Icebreaker, its scarlet blade shimmering like a bloody jewel, "Are you able to hold this?"

Melisandre touched the blade and flinched, ". . . It's cold."

That confirmed Joe's suspicions. Icebreaker appeared to be much too cold for the typical person to touch. He knew Melisandre was always warm due to some Lord of Light shenanigans. Icebreaker being too cold even for her raised more questions.

['If it's too cold, why can't I feel it? Not even Jon could hold Icebreaker, and he's my twin brother.']

"Thank you, my Lady. As repayment, I'll answer any of your questions. I'm sure you'll have plenty. But before that, my fourth reason for visiting—"

The ears of Stannis pricked up. Joe sure liked to keep the suspense with this 'four reasons' thing. It was fun, though. Who doesn't love a good surprise now and then?

Joe felt for the dragon egg, concealed in its dark-green sash which hung to his side.

"Where's the Princess?"

Up the tallest tower, locked away in the most soaring room in Dragonstone, Shireen Baratheon was reading her books when a knock came at her door.

"Princess," Davos said as he opened the door, "You have visitors."

Shireen put the book down, "Visitors? For me?"

Joe and Lucas strode in, "Pardon the sudden intrusion. I'm Joe. Your father and mine are brothers in a way, so that makes us cousins. Well met, coz!"

Davos grinned with pride. Joe had a way of talking to people, a casual informality that broke through tradition, a man-to-man perspective. It's not every day that Davos is privy to someone addressing Shireen as the beautiful bright person she is.

Shireen took to the situation like a duck in water. "You're the first cousin I've met. Mother doesn't like me having visitors."

Joe scanned the room and saw all the scrolls and books everywhere, "I can tell. Does she at least let you outside now and then? The sun is important for your health."

Shireen and Joe ended up hanging out for hours. Joe told her stories, true stories of his life, the kind not included in her books, and she listened with deep fascination. He told her of the Wolfswood, his days exploring the Northern Mountains and all the Northern Mountain clans. Of Void and Vera, of Jon and the rest of his siblings. He even included his trademarked explanation of his burger recipe.

Shireen in turn, told of all the stories she read, the places she explored in her imagination, the Knights and Ladies of summer song flowers.

Then Joe told her about his encounter with the Others, and he showed her the dragon egg.

"Woah," Shireen felt the rough surface of the egg, blue and red glittering on its snow-white shell, "Is this for real?"

"You bet," Joe replied, "Do you feel anything? Warmth? A heartbeat?"

By this point, Davos was mind fucked. After all he heard, to now be seeing a dragon egg. . . The Onion Knight firmly reevaluated who he thought Joe was.

Shireen shook her head.

"Concentrate for a moment," Joe insisted, "The heartbeat is there if you believe."

"Believe. . ?"

For some reason, the word felt foreign to Shireen, which was strange. She always used to believe. After years of your maesters and your parents telling you to stop believing in that childish nonsense, a new reality takes over. Did she stop believing in ever leaving her tower? The thought scared her. Suddenly, a jolt of inspiration shook Shireen to her core, and a nostalgic feeling took hold.

At that moment, Shireen felt her own heartbeat, each sending warm blood coursing through her body. She could feel her blood pumping to her palm like a beating drum, and through the eggshell, another drum replied.

*BA-BUMP!*

"I feel it!" Her face glowing with joy, Shireen declared, "How is this possible?"

Lucas touched the egg, and it was cold to the touch. "Why don't I feel anything?"

Joe shrugged, "I'm still figuring that out. My friend, Tyrion, suddenly felt the heartbeat as well. I just roll with the punches at this point. Nothing seems impossible when you've seen the shit I've seen."

Time passed, and servants brought supper to Shireen's room. The four sat at Shireen's table, eating like a family. At some point, a head peeked around the corner, and it was Stannis, a bowl of stew in hand. Well and merry by then, Stannis was welcomed magnanimously and for a moment, Stannis felt like a normal father. The center of attention in his household after providing dinner for his guests, bellies full and warm.

The hour grew late, and Lucas recalled the tides, "We should get going soon."

So it was. Joe and Lucas packed up the leftovers for Void to eat later and said their goodbyes. Shireen hugged Joe with misty eyes and made him promise to visit her again. He promised, and in her hands placed a weirwood medallion. Flipping the coin over from the winking Shadowcat, the other side showed a majestic Doe frolicking on a field. From the Doe's mind, intricate engravings of flowers sprouted to the sky, creating a galaxy of starry imagination.

"For you, Princess. It might come in handy one day."

Joe then flicked a coin to Ser Davos, who caught it with his finger-nipped hand.

"Don't think I forgot about you, my friend."

Joe paid his respects to Stannis, and kissed Melisandre on both cheeks like she were an old lady, and with that, he and Lucas rowed away.

Only when their old cog was but a speck in the distance did Davos look down at his weirwood medallion and laugh at the simple engraved drawing.

An onion floating in the sea.