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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,418Chapter 84: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken
*WARNING*: The following content may not be appropriate for certain persons under the age of 18 (depending on the legal age requirements in countries outside the United States) and may contain NSFW material such strong language, nudity, profanity and/or sexual themes that some viewers may find offensive. If you are under 18, do not view such content. Viewer discretion is advised.
If you are 18 and up, enjoy!
Aboard the King Robert's Warhammer…
Night time on the ocean was considered by some as calm, relaxing… to others, it was perceived as a bad omen—yet each scenario depended on the weather conditions of their lands and the durability of the ship.
Sailing down the Narrow Sea, a lone vessel sailed down the eastern coast—the royal flagship King Robert's Warhammer. The distance by sea from King's Landing to Sunspear or the Dornish port Planky Town was 1,615 miles and it would take some time for the party even with a 35 knots—a favorable gale considering the region Daveth and his small group was in. Sailors on the main deck were adjusting the sales: main, topsails, force sail, and jibs; down below the oarsmen accelerated the war galley's steering through the Narrow Sea.
Daveth had walked down below the deck—holding a book in hand—and looked out through the wooden openings to observe the full moon shining down from above. King Robert's Warhammer might be the largest ship of the Royal Fleet, but the Young Stag knew his way around the war galley enough to recognize each room. Even if it's just one ship, the flagship was more than capable of deterring pirates and enduring the oceanic waves bashing against it.
His squire, Olyvar Frey, held a lit candle and found the King.
"All is set, Your Grace. We should be arriving at Dorne within the next two or three weeks."
Daveth nodded. "Good. And the men up above remain at their post?"
"Yes."
"What is the status of my son and daughter?"
"Both Prince Lyonel and Princess Cassana are sound asleep in their room," Olyvar answered. "Ariyana, Ser Lucius and Ser Jaime are standing guard over them just in case."
"Hmm. And the Queen?"
Olyvar pointed to the seventh door down the main hall. "In that room over there, Your Grace."
"I see," he observed. "That'll be all for now, Olyvar. Be sure to get some rest now. It's getting late."
"Shouldn't I be saying that to you, Your Grace?" the Frey joked.
The Young Stag rolled his eyes. "Careful now, lad," he smiled coldly. "I enjoy you, but be careful."
Olyvar chuckled, yet felt a strange chill crawl up and down his spine when Daveth said that. He shook his head and made for his chambers, yearning for some sleep. Daveth, meanwhile, set out to approach the room—to find his wife, Queen Sansa Stark. Arriving at the seventh door, the Young Stag pushed the door open—the hinges squeaking slightly and entered the cabin.
Sansa had donned on a long, sleeveless white nightgown; she was tired and getting ready for bed. She sat on a small wooden chair, staring into a mirror whilst brushing her hair. Shae and Brella had been sent to their own rooms—the closest ones to her children in case they ever woke up in the middle of the night again. Candles in the room were lit to illuminate enough light for them to see in the dark.
"Sansa…" he quietly called out.
The faintest sound calling her name, it was enough to cause Sansa to blink awake. She turned to see her husband sidling up to her after he had closed the door behind them.
"Mmph. You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that," Sansa mumbled.
"Hate me for it if you must, my Queen, but you love it regardless."
Daveth wrapped his arms around her neck and held her close, planting his chin on his wife's shoulder. Sansa wearily held her hands on his arm, patting them before she briefly pushed back so she could stand up. With each step the Wolf Queen took, the more awake she grew. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sansa rubbed her eyes as Daveth tossed off his black velvet attire and readied himself for sleep as well, holding in his hands a plain shirt before tossing it aside. The faintest scars on his body were light—healed from old wounds sustained at the Battle of Blackwater Bay and during the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, but still visible; the scars across his cheek and eye were light as well, though the one on his cheek remained a slightly tad darker.
Sansa eyed Daveth up and down, admiring his physique. Lately he was getting stronger, probably from an exercise routine done mostly by carrying and/or lifting his late father's lumbering war hammer around the Red Keep; all of which had made his pecs, abs and biceps more visible—not surprising given the expectations of powerful Baratheon men.
"See something you like, Your Grace?" Daveth teased.
Sansa blushed and shook her head amusingly. "You're insufferable, dearest."
"I know."
Daveth eventually joined Sansa on the bed, both of them curled up against each other. Sansa looked over and noticed the book her husband was holding.
"New book?" she asked.
The Young Stag shook his head. "In a way; Maester Jurne got me this last year. But never mind that for a moment. If you'd please, look out the window," he pointed.
Sansa looked out the only open window in the cabin in the direction her husband was pointing to, observing on the southeastern coast north of Durran's Point stood a formidable fortress overlooking Shipbreaker Bay. Rocky and frequented by storms, the King Robert's Warhammer sailed outside the danger area at the King's behest.
"That's Shipbreaker Bay," Sansa recognized from her earlier studies as a girl.
Daveth nodded. "And above it?"
"Storm's End."
"Correct, Sansa. That's Storm's End, ancestral seat of House Baratheon once held by the Storm Kings of House Durrandon. I figured that one day I'd teach our children everything I know about the Baratheons."
Sansa rested her head wearily upon Daveth's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Well, if that's what you'd like to do someday, I think it'd be fair that I teach them everything I know about the North, about Winterfell… and the history of my family House Stark. I could even send a raven to Robb and my mother and introduce them to Lyonel and Cassana."
Daveth rested his head on the pillow, wrapping one arm around Sansa and brushed his fingers across her back. "I suppose that's fair. Our children are of Baratheon and Stark descent. Makes sense for them to know their origins."
"Glad to know we're in an agreement then, dearest. Mother would swoon over her royal grandchildren if she were present right now."
'Knowing Cat, I'm sure she would spoil them rotten…' the Young Stag thought.
The sky outside the window was beginning to darken when the moon disappeared behind a dozen clouds. Daveth laid down beside Sansa, listening to her give a quiet yawn, watching her snuggling against him. The Young Stag nuzzled Sansa's hair, detecting a faint scent of lemon and honey. His hand still massaged her back, feeling the touch of her skin through the fabric of her nightgown.
"I love you," Sansa murmured, looking up to give Daveth a sleepy smile. "You know that right?"
Daveth kissed Sansa's forehead. "And I you, Sansa. More than you know."
Cupping her chin with his left hand, Daveth leaned down and claimed Sansa's lips against his own, who responded with a happy moan. The Young Stag massaged the young woman's back before lowering his hand past her waist and cupped her butt. Softly at first, hardly touching, feeling the warmth of it beneath his palm, the skin as smooth as satin. He gave it a gentle squeeze, causing Sansa to gasp in surprise against her husband's mouth during their passionate kiss.
Pulling away to catch her breath, Sansa found herself crawling on top of Daveth—her cheeks blushing red. Her face was inches away from his, sensation sizzled across her body, up and down her spine. The King and Queen hadn't had sex in over a year due to the Queen's pregnancy, and more than a month to allow her body to properly heal after giving birth to their twin offspring just to be on the safe side.
"Do I have your consent?" Daveth asks.
Sansa, a nose tip away from her husband's, nodded. "Do what you will, my King. I'm yours," she answered.
Once understanding that she had given her approval, Daveth and Sansa resumed their make out session. While Sansa's hands explored Daveth's muscles, the Young Stag slid his left hand under Sansa's nightgown to fondle a breast. Sansa moaned again, feeling Daveth's thumb running lightly across her nipple, back and forth and back and forth until she felt it stiffen. Ripples of pleasure ran over her body.
"Does that feel good?" he asked.
"Yes," panted Sansa as she pulled away from the kiss.
"And this?" Daveth pinched the nipple now, gently twisting it between his fingers.
The Wolf Queen gasped and bit her trembling lower lip as her red hair fell in front of her face. "O-ooh, Gods…" she shook at the sensitivity.
Daveth took his time to allow Sansa's pleasure to build before moving onto the next phase, always ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. Sansa loved that about Daveth when he took her maidenhead during their wedding night; how attentive and caring he was towards her. She wanted to return the favor. Sansa slid her right hand down to Daveth's groin and felt an increasing bulge in his trousers. She unzipped his pants and slid her hand inside to grip her husband's growing erection, moving her hand up and down at an agonizing pace. Daveth's face scrunched and hissed at Sansa's teasing, the same thing she had done before.
Not wanting to be outdone, Daveth released his grip on Sansa's butt and slipped his fingers between her thighs, causing her entire body to jerk. He realized that the more he intimately touched her, the more she grew wet and aroused. The Young Stag slipped a finger into that northern swamp, then a second and a third, moving them in and out.
"Ngh! G-Gods, Daveth…"
Daveth interpreted Sansa's gasps as an approval and sped up the pace of his fingers; the Wolf Queen rocked her hips against the digits sliding in and out of her.
"W-wait, dearest. Wait!"
The Young Stag ceased his movements, wondering what might have caused his wife to ask him to stop. "What is it?" he asked.
Sansa's body shook, her pants hollow as she steadied herself above Daveth using only her elbow. She was so close from having an orgasm yet denied herself that release. Even in the heat of the moment, Sansa was still aware she had to keep her voice lowered to a minimum so as to not wake up her children. Once she recomposed, she looked at him.
"I… I'd like to undress, if it pleases you," Sansa explained between breaths.
Daveth nodded and withdrew his fingers. Still straddling her husband, Sansa lifted her nightgown over her head before tossing it to the floor, freeing her breasts. The Young Stag took in the sight of his wife's body before pulling her back down to kiss her, but Sansa placed a finger on her husband's lips to stop him.
"You've done much for me, my sweet King," she told him. "I don't want you to think I'm merely doing this simply because you want to claim your rights, but… But rather I'm doing this because I love you."
In moments, Daveth watched as Sansa freed his erect manhood from his trousers and drew a sharp breath when his Queen began stroking the shaft up and down. It was her turn to pleasure her husband.
"Ahhh, fuck…" Daveth groaned.
Sansa was still not used to listening to such vulgarity, but felt her husband must've been enjoying what she was doing so far. "Does… does it feel good, my love?" she asked.
"Uh-huh." The Young Stag instinctively moved his hips in time with her strokes, making love to her hand.
Noticing how lost in pure ecstasy Daveth looked, Sansa leaned her face forward—anxious and nervous. Now they've made love before, but this favor was new to her. She pressed her lips and kissed the very tip of Daveth's manhood, immediately followed by him briefly shuddering.
'It's so salty. Am I… doing this right?' she wondered.
The Wolf Queen continued planting kisses along the side of the Young Stag's manhood before protruding her tongue and licked along the veined ridge of the base to the very tip; her ears still picking up the sound of Daveth shivering at the sensation—something he never expected Sansa to do for him.
"S-Sansa…!" he groaned.
She looked up at him and stopped at once upon seeing the look on his face. "Am I hurting you?"
Daveth shook his head. "N-no. No, you're not. That mouth of yours is driving me crazy."
Reassured that all is well, Sansa lowered her lips to Daveth's erection and took it into her hot, wet mouth and slowly started bobbing her head up and down, her red hair brushing over his legs. The Young Stag said nothing but felt as if his eyes were rolling to the back of his head; Seven hells this was a new one, perhaps one of the best, the suction, the tongue, the gentle scrape of her teeth. Looking up at him, Sansa brushed a few stray bangs from her eyes as she sucked softly, then harder.
"Aaaaah, Sansa…"
"Mmmmm," she hummed.
After a few minutes, Daveth groaned through clenched teeth and felt his balls began to tighten. His climax was threatening to arrive at any moment; until he placed his hand on her head.
"Wait, stop!"
Sansa pulled away and took Daveth's still-firm manhood out of her mouth, her hand still gripping him. She looked concerned. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing. Seven hells, Sansa, that was too good," he shuddered. "But I want you. Now."
'Still such a pervert,' Sansa felt his erection twitch in her hand and shook her head amusingly in response; she had given him her consent and laid down on her back next to him.
Daveth climbed on top of Sansa and spread her legs apart, revealing her wet cunt. Rubbing his manhood teasingly across her opening, he watched her squirm beneath him. Her tissues there were swollen and sensitive.
"D-Don't, stop it. Not again," Sansa mewled. "Y-you said you wanted me right? If you have any affection for me, please put it in me."
"As you command, Your Grace," he acknowledged.
Taking hold of his manhood, Daveth traced the head over Sansa's wet entrance before pushing it inside of her.
"Oooh. Oh my Gods," Sansa moaned, her body twitched, her eyes glued to the sight of Daveth's manhood slowly sliding inside. "Oh, Daveth, make love to me." As she arched up to receive him a wave of orgasm hit her hard. She hadn't felt so full in a long time.
It was almost too much to bear. Daveth held his wife close as Sansa embraced him back when he was hilt-deep inside of her, savoring the hot, tightening sensation gripping him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, making her squirm more. Firmly gripping Sansa's hips, Daveth started thrusting into her. Flesh slapping against each other filled the room; her breasts bounced up and down.
"Ah! Huh! Oooh! Ah! Nngh!"
As they moved, a fire of sensations passed between them. Sansa wrapped her legs around Daveth's waist and it didn't take long for him to thrust deeper and harder into her. His lips met hers, their tongues battling for dominance; and both of them were moaning and gasping out endearments as Daveth suckled on one of Sansa's breasts, circling his tongue around her nipple.
"M-more," she whimpered. "Please; deeper, harder."
Sansa felt one orgasm after another washing over her, her maidenhood clenching tight around Daveth's manhood as she climaxed again. Daveth continued to pound into his wife, dropping his head down again against Sansa's shoulder. He pumped in and out of his northern wife once more, stopping momentarily for Sansa to collect herself. With each thrust, Sansa moved her hips back and sunk her fingernails deep into Daveth's back. Sweat covered both their bodies from the effort.
After nearly 45 minutes of love making, Sansa felt Daveth's manhood starting to swell and twitch inside her as he quickened his pace. She knew what that meant.
"Ngh, Sansa, I'm—!"
Sansa pushed back for more. "Fill me up, ahh!"
Daveth groaned and thrusted hard into Sansa before emptied himself deep into her womb. He barely heard Sansa's whimper under him and arching her back, his manhood twitching as it continued to spurt. When he was done, Daveth withdrew from Sansa and rolled over, placing a hand on her thigh. The Wolf Queen was breathless from her last orgasm as she felt her husband's seed dripping out from between her legs.
They sat there for a while, harsh breathing in the quiet moment until the wind from outside blew into the room—extinguishing all candles in the room—causing both Daveth and Sansa to shiver and covered themselves. After their recent lovemaking, Sansa was now officially tired. Feeling her husband wrapping his arms around her, Sansa felt safe and loved. And given what Daveth had done, she was certain that they'd have more children; even if not now, if Sansa wanted more children, Daveth would give her such.
"Whew!" she wiped her brow. "Wow… You… you were amazing…"
Daveth, now tired himself, held his wife close. "So were you. Seven hells, it's been… a long time since we… did this."
Silence filled the cabin for a while.
"Do you think we woke the kids?" he asked.
Sansa listened closely, but thankfully heard nothing. "No, I don't think so. But if we did wake Lyonel and Cassana by doing… this, then I'm blaming you."
"Very funny," the Young Stag rolled his eyes. "But need I point out that you were enjoying it yourself?"
Sansa playfully smacked Daveth's chest. "You are such a pervert!" she scolded him. "I love you, but you're such a pervert."
Daveth shook his head. "Only because I'm married to the most beautiful woman in the world," his facial feature turned warm, "and is the mother of my children. As far as I'm concerned, this is all I need."
Sansa snuggled against Daveth's neck. "And you and our children are all I'll ever need. Sleep well, dearest."
The Young Stag pecked his wife's head, listening to her quiet breathing; knowing that the Wolf Queen had fallen asleep, Daveth felt his eyelids growing heavy and it wasn't long before sleep took him too.
At the Water Gardens…
Within the palace a short distance away from Sunspear, the Water Gardens served as a private residence to House Martell. Located on the coast next to the Summer Sea a short distance down the road from the Dornish capital city, pale pink marble paved the gardens and courtyard; terraces overlooked the numerous pools and fountains, shaded by blood orange trees with a triple archway leading to certain mazes. Described as pleasant in autumn, hot days and cool nights, the salt breeze blew in from the sea and the fountains and pools are described as admirable, a relaxing if not beautiful sight to behold.
One of the Dornish traditions still retained to this day since Princess Daenerys Targaryen married Prince Maron Martell in 201 AC was allowing men and women from all stations—highborn nobles to servants, guards and their children—to swim in the pools, beaches and fountains.
At the center of the gardens, Princess Myrcella Baratheon—now almost 19 years old—spent the day with her betrothed Prince Trystane Martell, eldest son and heir to Prince Doran Martell. During her stay in Dorne, Myrcella came to see Dorne as her new home and adapted to the Dornish lifestyle so quickly, but she had actually fallen in love with Trystane; a rare thing in arranged marriages. The inner layer of her halter dress was pink in color and made of lightweight, hand dyed cotton organdy with the cups lightly lined; the outer layer of her dress is goldish-yellow in color and also made from a lightweight with garments and embroidery of a floral nature, hand dyed cotton organdy with a lace up closure in back.
Not only has she matured greatly and became somewhat independent of her family, but Myrcella noticeably grew up to be a lovely young woman—inheriting all of her mother Cersei Lannister's beauty but none of her cruel nature.
She remained still, watching Prince Trystane placing a flower in her hair.
"I'm going to ask him tomorrow," he tells her.
Myrcella, however, looked uncertain. "What if he says no?"
"He won't. You've waited long enough; we've waited long enough. I want you to be my wife now." Trystane noticed Myrcella looking away from him for a bit. "What's wrong?" he asked, somewhat concerned.
"Do you want to marry me because our families arranged it?" she asked him. "Or, do you—"
Myrcella's words were silenced when Prince Trystane cupped her cheek and kissed her. His action affirmed that he did indeed have true affections for her. Though she was caught off-guard, Myrcella did not protest nor did she pull away. She did, however, reciprocated Trystane's feelings, though for a brief moment she actually did pull away—albeit her cheeks were rather flushed.
"We-we can't," she shook her head. "Not yet."
"Why not?"
"You know why not. Someone will see. Your father, Ser Arys Oakheart…"
"And your brother?"
Myrcella froze. 'Daveth…' She hadn't seen her eldest brother in almost four years since he sent her away to Dorne.
And though she made him promise to write letters, they were relatively few. Initially Myrcella believed Daveth had forgotten the promise he made her, but it was only until she learned about the siege at King's Landing during Renly Baratheon's rebellion and again of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion did Myrcella come to understand why the letters sent to her had been relatively few. She did, however, receive ravens from her sister-in-law Queen Sansa Stark at King's Landing and it was from her that Myrcella worried about her brother's state of mind. She believed he was under a lot of stress and repeatedly asked for inquiries about him.
She often wondered what Daveth must've looked like by now. Considering the last raven Myrcella received entailed the birth of the new royal heirs, she advocated to her betrothed's father, Prince Doran Martell—ruler of Dorne, to request Daveth's presence.
"I…"
Trystane replied, "You are going to be my wife. And I am going to be your husband."
'Fate preserve me, but you are so stubborn sometimes Trystane,' Myrcella thought. But then again, it was Trystane's nature that drew her to him in the first place. Attentive and affectionate, but rather impatient. She loved that about him.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Trystane took her arm in his.
"Come. We are allowed to walk through the gardens together. Shall we?" he said with a hint of Dornish charm.
Walking through the Water Gardens side-by-side, Myrcella looked at Trystane. "How many other girls have you walked through these gardens?" she asked.
Trystane smirked with amusement. "I like the way your eyes go squinty when you're jealous."
Puffing her cheeks, Myrcella shook her head. "They do not go squinty," she pouted, "and you didn't answer the question."
Observing the pair from the Water Gardens' balcony was none other than Prince Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear and ruler of Dorne. The oldest of three, his siblings were the late Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn the Red Viper. Unlike Oberyn, who was known for his hot-headed and aggressive passion, Doran was pensive, calculating and patient, always waiting and observing before making his move. Whilst Oberyn was free to indulge in the wayward Dornish lifestyle, Doran was raised to be more responsible despite suffering severe gout which confined him to a wheelchair. On the outside, Doran appeared to be stern and strict, sometimes cold. But the Dornish knew that their Prince actually cared about his people and his family; even Myrcella thought of him fondly as a surrogate father.
Beside him stood his personal bodyguard and captain of the Martell guard, Areo Hotah. Originally from Norvos, one of the northern Free Cities, he joined Prince Doran's service along with Doran's Norovoshi wife Lady Mellario (even after her departure) and has remained a trusted servant of the Martells for many years and is renowned for his skill with his halberd.
Also observing Trystane and Myrcella from the balcony was Prince Oberyn Martell, who after returning from Dorne, was still missing several teeth and his lower jaw was yet slightly aligned more to the right due to the injury sustained from Ser Gregor "the Mountain" Clegane. Eating food or drinking fluids was rather difficult for him and Oberyn did have occasional discomfort once and a while. But the prize in the end was worth it as Oberyn returned a hero to the Dornish with the Mountain's head and announced the justice for the murder Elia Martell and her children was meted out.
"Last time I saw her here, she was swimming with two of my girls. Laughing in the sun," Oberyn told his brother.
Doran did not budge. "I know. Tyene and Sarella often speak of Myrcella as a sister, bound in blood if not by blood."
"Never thought I'd see the day when a Lannister and a Martell would make a lovely couple."
Ellaria Sand, Oberyn's paramour, wrapped herself around the Red Viper. "Yet a Lannister almost cost you your life."
"I did say I was going to kill that, and I did."
Doran looked at Oberyn. "With help, yes, but your hot-heated nature almost got you killed. If it wasn't for one of our own implanted in the Kingsguard, you would have met our sister again and her children. And Dorne would have lost another Martell."
"Your brother—" Ellaria looked furious, perceiving it as an insult.
"You don't have to remind me," Doran cut her off. "Oberyn is my brother long before he was anything to you."
"The whole country would have gone to war—"
Oberyn silenced Ellaria with a kiss, albeit a sloppy one due to his aligned jaw. "It's all right, my love. Dorne loves its people, and our daughters do too. We avenged our family together."
"And we're also lucky the whole country does not decide whether or not we go to war," his brother finalized. "Justice and vengeance often become intertwined in serious cases, most often to the point where it's hard to tell one from the other."
Despite their differences, Doran and Oberyn remain close as ever—even if Ellaria has a difficult time with her paramour's eldest brother sometimes. Dorne had been crying out for justice, some even advocated with going to war… yet Oberyn assured them that all was well after announcing his triumphant victory over the Mountain.
Ellaria sighed with resignation. "If you're content with this Lannister girl eating our food, breathing our air… Then I suppose I'll give her a chance."
"As you should."
"But only because my Oberyn still lives."
Approaching the trio, Maester Caleotte handed a raven scroll. "Prince Doran, a raven came from King's Landing days ago," he excused himself.
Doran unraveled the piece of paper, and read it. Both Oberyn and Ellaria leaned over, with the Red Viper recognizing the familiar handwriting.
"Well, well, well! Now this is getting interesting," Oberyn surprisingly exclaimed. "The unexpected Lannister, the Imp, named the new King's Hand! Rather unexpected!"
Ellaria looked taken aback as well. "Well? What does he say?"
"It says the Oathkeeper has decided to accept our invitation," Doran told them, "and is currently on his way here with his family."
Areo Hotah stood tall, his right hand still gripping his halberd. "They'll most likely arrive at Dorne's only main port. Planky Town."
Oberyn observed this. "Then I suppose we should get ready for preparing to welcome our royal guests. No Baratheon ever stepped foot in Dorne before… except for the Oathkeeper's ancestor Orys during the First Dornish War."
"And what is your take on the Usurper's son?" Doran asked. "What are we to expect from Daveth Baratheon when he arrives?"
"Hmmm. Not quite what you would expect from a lad his age."
"Meaning?"
"He might well have the blood of the lion and stag running through his veins, but… One thing I noticed about him when I was Master of Laws was his commitment, what he calls his 'desire' to usher in a 'new golden age'. What's more is that there are most in Westeros who believe he could actually pull it off, considering how quickly he gets results. But the one thing I admire most about him was the promise he kept to Dorne. Apparently the phrase 'you have my word' has a whole new meaning whenever Daveth says it."
"So he's never reneged on his word?" Doran asked skeptically.
"Not once. Not yet anyway."
"Hmm. We'll see when the time comes. See to it that preparations are made."
Oberyn acknowledged his older brother's request and set off with Ellaria Sand, intending to gather the rest of their daughters in the Sand Snakes. No doubt word will spread quickly, with Myrcella being the first to hear word of Daveth's impending arrival. Doran and Areo watched from the balcony as Oberyn spoke with Trystane and Myrcella. Not surprisingly even in the slightest, Doran noticed Myrcella's posture shifted from courteous to nearly bouncing with excitement.
"They make a lovely couple," he told his bodyguard. "A Lannister and a Martell. They have no idea how dangerous that is. Even if things have indeed calmed down in Dorne, such a royal gathering will no doubt bring about unwanted attention. My son, Princess Myrcella… we must still protect them."
"Yes, my Prince," Areo nodded.
Doran looked up at him. "You have not had to use that axe of yours in a very long time. I hope you remember how."
Areo grinned, eager to flex his muscles. "I remember how," he answered with confidence.
Doran nodded and looked across the distance of the Water Gardens. If war has taught him anything in times of peace, it's to always keep his guard up and expect the unexpected. What he was not expecting, however, was that he would eventually be proven right.
Further north, a small ship departing from White Harbor had just set sail with its destination in sight…
Chapter End
Author's Note: A bit steamy in the first half, but towards the end we're finally introduced to Prince Doran Martell and his bodyguard Areo Hotah. Doran expects trouble at some point and has made the first move to prevent such a thing from possibly derailing the negotiations between Dorne and the Iron Throne. For the last bit, a ship departed from White Harbor. Think it's Locke and Ramsay's dogs? Also, making her return is none other than Princess Myrcella Baratheon—now a full grown young woman! Thoughts? Let me know.
Guest #1: Locke and his men come, seeing Areo Hotah with his longaxe will be quite the show. So looking forward to it. Update soon, please.
C.E.W: Here's an idea, first day or two in Dorne of the royal family and Martells getting to know each other. Little time in the Water Gardens, some sparing, riding along the sands and a little beach time. Then come the peace talks, and then Locke and his men show to attack and take Myrcella or kill her. Although I don't think they knew the royal family would be there. So Daveth, his Kingsguard fight with the Sand Snakes and Dornish guard, helping and saving each other. Surely it will help build up trust between the Dorne and the Crown. If a man gets captured alive or Locke himself, I'm sure the Martells can get him to talk. They find out Ramsay Snow ordered the attack, Daveth will seek justice as well the Martells as Locke attacked their home on Ramsay's orders.
—I'll look into it.
Austin: Hey man I love your story here it's amazing love of Daveth being a badass.
Though Ramsay is coming as well with his gang and I'm worried for mycella hope she is well protected by her family both Martell and her brother.
Though since daveth is slowly but surely learning how to fight with his father's warhammer will it be possible in the future for daveth to wield both warhammer and sword in each hand like a fucking a man of war he is because I can honestly see that happening.
And what of daenarys once she arrives with her army and dragons. Will daveth have to kill her and her dragons or in last case scenario will he have to marry daenarys as well?
Another question will there be another game of thrones story once oathkeeper is finished whether crossover or not.
Good luck on the next chapter and hope it comes soon.
—(1) It might take some time for Daveth to utilize two weapons at once-considering one's a incredibly sharp blade light in weight and has a long reach while the other is a very heavy bludgeoning yet powerful weapon; (2) He's already married and has no intention of setting his wife aside, as for the inevitable confrontation with Daenerys we'll be expecting some interaction between the two monarchs; and (3) I'll think about it.
Morgan: Aww Myrcella 3 I hope all goes well for them. She deserves happiness after all
Zurver: Wise decision in making Tyrion as the Hand. To me it was heartwarming, because no one ever put trust this much on Tyrion as what Daveth is doing
The Three Stoogies: porn pure porn well written porn but porn none the less keep up the great work can't wait to read the meeting between daveth and doran
mpowers045: Those bastards better not be here to ruined a family visit!
Fury074: Women can't and shouldn't renew their bedroom habits, if you will, until they have fully recovered from child birth, which is usually six weeks.
—Between 4 to 6 weeks, yes I agree. But here a month has passed. Even so, still had to be more careful before resuming bed activities.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks.
10868letsgo: Love it!
—Thanks.
The Last Kenpachi: This might get messy. If the king is negotiating in Dorne and gets attacked by assassins, people are going to blame the Martells... which is probably what Ramsay would want.
Hear My Fury: Well I don't know if it's appropriate but um, *bow chicka bow wow*. I think another Stag/Wolf baby was created. In any case Locke and his men are royally screwed now.
LunaEvanna Longbottom: Marcella and Tommen were always my favorite Lannisters after Tyrion mostly because they were uncomplicated.
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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,418Chapter 85: Black Bastard of the Wall
At Castle Black…
For the first time in 14 years, each sworn brother of the Night's Watch gathered in the halls of Castle Black for a Choosing to nominate a candidate to serve as the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Unlike the rest of Westeros, the Night's Watch is one of few institutions that hold elections in choosing their leaders almost similar to the Faith of the Seven's ruling council the Most Devout, the Order of Maesters' Conclave. In contrast, however, only the Night's Watch serves as a true, representative democracy where every member of the Night's Watch, from the First Ranger and the other high-ranking officers, down to the cooks, and even the lowliest steward who cleans out the chamber pots, has an equal vote when electing a new Lord Commander.
And whoever becomes the new Lord Commander, ultimately decides the fate of the captive wildlings during the Battle of Castle Black apparently.
"Treason! The Night's Watch have always defended the realm from what lies beyond the Wall for more than 8,000 years and we will never let the wildlings pass through into our lands, no matter how much they plead!" Ser Alliser Thorne called out.
First Builder Yarwyck nodded in agreement.
Jon Snow sat a small table with his friends Grenn, Eddison Tollett and Samwell Tarly. The situation was tense; with the Night's Watch's numbers greatly replenished and enough breathing room, there were some of their sworn brothers who backed Ser Alliser Thorne, Castle Black's Master-at-Arms and acting Lord Commander. Most of them touted his experience during Mance Rayder's wildling army attacked the Wall. Some even supported Ser Denys Mallister, commander of the Shadow Tower.
"Quite the select men to actually volunteer for the post," Grenn rolled his eyes.
"You'd think they'd have learned what we know, seen the things we've seen," Edd agreed.
Jon said nothing. Sitting a few tables across from him was a drunken Joffrey Baratheon, gulping down what appeared to be his fourth or fifth cup of ale. Word had already arrived from the capital of Petyr Baelish's and Cersei Lannister's trial by seven and subsequent execution on charges of treason. Normally Jon would've felt more sympathetic, but Joffrey had become incredibly violent and insubordinate; many of their sworn brothers made numerous complaints about Joffrey's aggressive behavior—only for both to be equally met with verbal reprimands.
"*hic!* Mother…" Joffrey bemoaned bitterly. "Fuckin' broth— *hic!* fuckin' brother. Hope you fuckin' burn in the *hic!* deepest corner of the *hic!* Seven hells…"
Samwell winced a bit, but Edd and Grenn looked at him with equal disgust.
"He's been like this these past four weeks," Grenn noticed.
Stannis Baratheon and his guests were permitted to observing the Night's Watch election on the condition there were no interruption or outside influence affecting the outcome. The fiery Stag of Dragonstone had his arms crossed and never took his eyes off of Joffrey.
'He should've been dealt with back at King's Landing,' he observed. 'They called him my nephew, but Joffrey shares no blood with me.'
As Ser Davos and Lady Selyse took their seats to watch the proceedings, but Stannis remained at the back of the hall with his personal guards. Soon enough, every sworn brother of the Night's Watch took their seats as Castle Black's maester Aemon slowly stood up from the Lord Commander's seat at the high table to officiate the vote. A wrinkled, shrunken, very old blind man of 104 years of age, Aemon was originally the second son of King Maekar I Targaryen, a Prince who renounced his claim to the Iron Throne before his older brother Aerion "Brightflame" died and refused the throne in favor of his younger brother Aegon—a sibling he referred to as "Egg". King Aegon of House Targaryen, the Fifth of His Name… who died many years later during the Tragedy at Summerhall and was succeeded by Aemon's nephew the Mad King Aerys II.
"The gods were cruel when they saw fit to test my vow. They waited until I was old," Maester Aemon once told Jon Snow four years ago. "What could I do when the ravens brought the news from the south? The ruin of my house, the death of my family… I was helpless, blind, frail. But when I heard they had killed my brother's son, and his poor son, and the children! Even the little children!"
"Who are you?"
"My father was Maekar, the First of His Name. My brother Aegon reigned after him when I had refused the throne, and his son… was Aerys… whom they called 'The Mad King.'"
"You're Aemon Targaryen."
"I am a Maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night's Watch. Whatever cruel test the Gods see fit to throw at you, Jon Snow, you'll have to live with whatever choice you make for the rest of your days, as I have."
Samwell had been taking care of Maester Aemon lately; given his old age and frailty, almost everyone knew that Aemon would inevitably die soon. Even though most of the Night's Watch often disregarded his wise counsel, Maester Aemon was still held in high regards.
"Crowded," Darius Hill uttered. "You'd think we were serving venison stew."
Aemon cleared his throat. "Does anyone wish to speak for candidates before we cast our tokens for the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"
Camren Rivers, a bastard of House Darry from the Riverlands, rose from his chair. "I nominate Ser Alliser Thorne! He's not just a knight, but he's a man of true nobility. A veteran of hundreds of battles and defender on the Watch almost his whole life, he was acting commander when the Wall came under attack and led us to victory against the wildlings. Ser Alliser is our one true choice."
"Hear, hear," some of the Night's Watch applauded.
Ser Alliser grinned and looked back at Jon Snow, the bastard he had a social hostile rivalry ever since Jon arrived to swear his vows years ago. What made it worse was how humiliated Alliser was when Jon took command during the Battle of Castle Black when he was wounded in battle. Men cheer and beat on the tables as Alliser nodded at his supporters.
"Is there anyone else?"
One of the sworn brothers from Shadow Tower stood up. "Ser Denys Mallister joined the Watch as a boy and has served loyally longer than any other ranger. Through 10 winters he served. As commander of the Shadow Tower, he kept the wildlings away. We could do no better."
Men, including Jon, Grenn and Edd bang their cups on the table, but the reaction is much weaker.
"If there's no one else, we will begin the voting," Maester Aemon announced. "The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne. The square tokens for Ser Denys Mallister. Each brother will—"
Grenn immediately rose sharply. "Wait!"
Every sworn brother, including Jon, Eddison and Samwell, look to Grenn at the back of the room in shock.
"Grenn. Go on."
Jon shakes his head 'no' at Grenn. Ser Davos, Samwell and Eddison were curious; Stannis, meanwhile, looked on in curiosity whereas Seylse frowned at the rude interruption.
"*hic!* Ah, the fearless giant slayer Grenn the Abandoned," Joffrey slurred. "And his trusted *hic!* companions Edd the Dimwit and Sam the Slayer."
The whole room turns and glares at him, including Stannis and his guests.
"What's a wildling *hic!* lover and his friends *hic!* Jon Snow the Bastard," he continued rudely. "Tell me, Piggy, how's your *hic!* lady love, Slayer? *hic!*"
More men frowned; very few chuckled but were silenced. Grenn was red with anger.
Samwell stood up in his friend's defense. "Her name is Gilly," he corrected. "Brother Joffrey knows her quite well. They cowered together in the larder during the battle for the Wall."
Joffrey scowled in fury as the men started laughing at him now. Rising sharply, Joffrey threw his cup across the room but his aim was terrible due to his intoxication.
"Lies!" he screamed.
"A wildling, a baby, and Joffrey the Illborn," Edd chimed in. "I seem to remember that we found him there when the battle was over curled up in the fetal position in a puddle of his own piss."
"SHUT *hic!* UP!"
Even stronger laughter erupted in the room, even Maester Aemon cracked a smile.
"Whilst Joffrey fled with his tail between his legs, hiding with the women and children, Jon Snow was leading," Grenn pointed to Jon.
The room goes quiet. Samwell nodded in agreement. "Ser Alliser fought bravely during the battle, it's true. It's an act of honor that cannot be questioned or dismissed. And when he was wounded, it was Jon who saved the day. He took charge of the Wall's defenses."
Eddison rose from his seat. "Jon Snow killed the Magnar of the Thenns. He went north to deal with Mance Rayder, knowing it would mean certain death. And before that, Jon led the mission to avenge Lord Commander Mormont."
"Mormont himself chose Jon to be his steward. He saw something in Jon and we've seen it all, too. He might be young, but he was the commander we turned to when the night was darkest."
Grenn looked at his friend. "With that, I'm proud to nominate my friend and brother Jon Snow as a candidate for Lord Commander of the Night's Watch!"
Jon blinked and looked across the room as men gave him a strong cheer. He wasn't expecting his name being put forward, almost uncertain what to do. Across from them, Ser Alliser Thorne stood from his seat.
"I can't argue with any of that. But who does Jon Snow want to command? The Night's Watch… or the wildlings?" he argued. "Everyone knows he loved a wildling girl and spoke with Mance Rayder many times," he looked at Stannis. "What would have happened in that tent if the Young Stag's own uncle Stannis Baratheon and his army hadn't come along?"
Stannis remained stoic, yet deeply frowned; believing it to be a slight on his honor that his cavalry rode to decimate the massive wildling army.
"We all saw him put the King-Beyond-the-Wall in a small cell on the condition he was not to be harmed until a new Lord Commander was chosen," he continued. "Do you want to choose a man who has fought the wildlings all his life? Or a man who makes love to them?"
Jon frowned angrily but doesn't respond; the memory of Ygritte's loss was still a fresh wound for him and Ser Alliser rubbed salt on his wounds, and Joffrey smirked in a smug manner. With the sworn brothers trading banter, Maester Aemon rises again.
"It is time. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne, the square tokens for Ser Denys Mallister… and the circular tokens for Jon Snow."
One by one, each sworn brother of the Night's Watch marched in a single-file line to the front of the room to place their selective tokens into a jar. Jon watched as he sipped his ale, but couldn't help but notice Joffrey glaring at him; his face curled in a wicked snarl.
'He's still upset about what happened down south,' he speculated.
What felt like several long twenty minutes, First Builder Yarwyck takes a small hammer and cracks open the jar and begins to count the tokens before stacking them up on the table. Everyone was holding their breath. Denys had a small amount, but Alliser and Jon have the same amount of tokens.
Yarwyck leaned close to Aemon's ear. "There appears to be a tie, Maester."
As the most senior member of Castle Black's leadership, Maester Aemon was now in his capacity to break the tie. With the aid of Yarwyck, Aemon steadily rose from his seat once more and feels each stack of tokens to determine which is which. Albeit he was old and blind, Aemon's other senses were still intact. Taking his own spare token from his sleeve, his hands steadily shook and cast his own vote for Jon Snow.
*CHEERS!*
*APPLAUSE!*
Amidst cheers and laughter, Olly turned and smiles at his mentor. Jon Snow felt as if the wind was knocked out of him in surprise, but smiled as his friends Samwell, Eddison and Grenn clapped the loudest. The men near Alliser, including Joffrey, look angry. The group of men gathered around Mallister, however, was rather content and even waived their hands up in a congratulatory acknowledgment.
"Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow!" the room chanted.
Elected as the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jon took a shaky breath and sees Alliser glaring at him, and lets out a small smile for the first time since he entered the room. With his new position, Jon felt a growing confidence swelling up inside him as he left the room with Olly, Samwell, Grenn and Eddison in tow—walking past Stannis and his attendees.
'Maybe I'll be able to settle an everlasting peace,' he thought hopefully.
"What are your orders… Lord Commander Snow?" Grenn asked.
Jon shrugged. "Still not used to hearing that," he admitted.
"Yeah, well, you're in charge of the Night's Watch now," Samwell pointed out. "Lots of responsibility."
"And that means a lot of hard choices lay ahead," Edd nodded.
Jon turned to his steward. "Olly, go to my chambers and fetch me Longclaw."
Olly nodded. "At once, Lord Commander."
As the boy left the room, Jon turned to his friends once he was certain they were alone.
"What I'm about to do now… it might divide the Night's Watch. Bitterly."
Samwell looked confused. "What do you mean?"
Jon exhaled, yet remained firm and absolute. "I'm going down to the cells to have a word with Mance Rayder, see what I can do to negotiate peace between us."
Chapter End
Author's Note: A brief cameo, but Jon Snow is the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and intends to have a private audience with Mance Rayder and Tormund Giantsbane regarding the fate of the wildlings. And Joffrey was not a happy camper and behaved irritably now that he knows what's happened at King's Landing. Now the next chapter will definitely include the face-to-face meeting with Daveth Baratheon and Doran Martell. So stay turned for more updates! Thoughts? Let me know.
C.E.W: Don't forget Daveth also getting justice for the Martell's Kingsguard uncle Prince Lewyn Martell by killing Ser Lyn Corbray, another thing justice to add to the list of what he helped deliver to Dorne.
Austin: Ok nice chapter nice to see of how things are at jon's neck of the woods.
Honestly I know Joffrey is probably gonna get chopped or get hanged depending on what is he gonna do to piss jon off.
Now the meeting of Doran and daveth is coming soon. I can see daveth getting a hero's welcome in dorne for having a hand in killing the mountain which in result avenged elia martell.
But Ramsay and his pack are coming to dorne as well.
I'm honestly am just tempted to like jump into this and help daveth out and kill the fucker Ramsay all for honor style as I'm tempted to execute the tucker in many ways possible for what he did to many people mostly commoners who done nothing wrong. Because I have to give props to ramsay's actor as he did a phenomenal job at being the flayed snow as we all hate Ramsay with a passion.
But another question once the faithful meeting of daveth and daenarys happen. If daenarys starts of how she is the rightful heir to the iron throne daveth will counter "correction you were the heir to the iron throne as my father killed your brother prince rhaegar in battle, and took the iron throne from your father the mad king. Simply put my father conquered the iron throne which is honestly pure irony or poetic as the iron throne was made by a family conquerors and they just got conquered." Plus not to mention daveth did alot good to the seven kingdoms so daenarys will honestly be surprised of getting no support from kingdoms like the reach as expected.
So good luck on the next chapter and hope it comes soon.
Hear My Fury: Well, considering how Joffrey had almost the same dialogue as Slynt, my guess is that he's going to the chopping block when he's given Greyguard. If he's given that castle. Other than that, I hope Melisandre doesn't burn Mance and he's given a chance to live. I always liked his character in the books and I was disappointed when he died on the show. Hopefully it doesn't happen here.
C.E.W: Will Jon Snow alert Robb and Daveth about his plans for the Wildlings?
—Not at present, no. But eventually someone will learn about Jon's plans for the wildlings.
Zeze: Nobody cares about bastard snow. We wanna see the wedding god dammit
Magi Tail Welkin: No doubt Jon will end up betrayed just like in the show. Really my problem with the Jon Snow subplot in these fan-fictions is that they really no way to vary it.
chase manaena: this is a great read cant wait for the next chapter
The Last Kenpachi: Maybe Stannis will rein in Thorne... maybe.
mpowers045: Now that was the kind of reaction I expected Joffrey to have when he heard about Cersei's trial, I hope Jon doesn't get mutinied and killed
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks.
10868letsgo: Joffrey, you got to admit the world is better off without your mother. Is Joffrey is going to die with a mutiny after they tried to kill Jon Snow?
The Three Stoogies: A good chapter keep up the good work
—Thanks.
Patty 4577: Well. The way things are up at the wall, Prince Cunt appears to be heading the same way as Janos. But I wanna know what you think.
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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,418Chapter 86: Brother-Sister Reunion
In Dorne…
Sailing into the Dornish harbor from the Greenblood River, King Daveth I Baratheon, Queen Sansa Stark and their household attendees had finally arrived in Dorne. The weather was hot, dry and contained a fair certain amount of humidity in the air; as such, some had small beads of sweat trickling down their faces and necks due to the heavy cloth and armor. Sers Lucius Blackmyre and Jaime Lannister slightly squinted their eyes to avoid the sun's rays.
"Seven hells, this place is hot…" Olyvar Frey complained.
Being of the North, Sansa wasn't used to the heat nor had she ever ventured this far south before—yet her primary concern were the babies in her arms, Prince Lyonel and Princess Cassana. Acting on maternal instinct, Sansa acted to keep her children cool and hydrated. Lyonel and Cassana stirred, apparently uncomfortable with a new, unfamiliar environment.
"It's okay, little ones," Sansa gently reassured her son and daughter. "We'll be out of the sun soon, don't worry."
Meanwhile, Ariyana Dayne felt a warm breeze flow past her long black hair, sniffing the air in nostalgia. 'I'm home,' she reminisced before turning to the King and Queen. "Welcome to Dorne, Your Graces."
Daveth loosened his collar, adjusted the leather strap around his shoulder which attached his late father's war hammer to his back; his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer remained sheathed at his waist. Despite feeling hot and somewhat thirsty, the Young Stag was certain of the objective at hand.
"You ever been to Dorne, Ser Lucius?" Olyvar asked.
Lucius didn't move. "One time," he said.
"What about you, Ser Jaime?"
Jaime shook his head. "No."
"Ariyana—"
"I was born here, Frey," she cut him off. "A rather dumb question to ask me."
"Is it true that the Dornish are crazy?"
Ariyana frowned. "Clarify."
"I've heard from Oberyn that all they want to do is fight and f—"
Sansa quickly turned her head and cast a long, hard death stare in Olyvar's direction, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut when he noticed the twins in her arms.
"Don't even think about using such foul language in front of the children," she hissed.
Olyvar waved his hands. "I-I'm sorry, Your Grace!" he apologized. "I… I was just curious about Dornish culture. It's just… I-I've… never left the Twins before."
"You'll have time to ask them soon enough," Lucius pointed to the port. "Seems they've been expecting our arrival."
Indeed, standing at the pier stood Prince Doran Martell, his brother Prince Oberyn Martell, his brother's paramour Ellaria Sand and three of his nieces birthed by Ellaria, all of whom were fathered by Oberyn. Daveth was certain to have some questions about why Oberyn abruptly resigned his post on the Small Council and left without informing him first; but that could wait for a while. He noticed the Red Viper's jaw angled in the opposing direction and retained a slight discoloration in his cheek. No less as a consequence of getting punched by the Mountain.
"We're here," the Pentoshi merchant captain pulled the boats into the harbor.
Stepping up, Daveth raised his arms out to Sansa to transfer one of the twins over to him. Cautiously placing his right arm underneath Cassana's head, he brought his arms closely and brought his daughter up to him as Ariyana and Olyvar assisted Sansa onto the docks, with Lucius and Jaime close behind.
"Well, well. We meet again, Oathkeeper," Oberyn greeted them.
Daveth nodded. "Prince Oberyn," he returned. "You left King's Landing without saying so much as a word to anyone. I trust it was nothing serious?"
"It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. You kept your end of the bargain, it's true, but I had to report back to my brother in Sunspear."
"Still, a head's up would've been nice." He turned to the Prince of Dorne. "Prince Doran," he greeted.
Doran Martell remained seated in his wheelchair. "Welcome to Dorne, Your Grace. On behalf of House Martell, we thank you for accepting our invitation. I trust your journey here was not a weary one?"
"Not at all. In fact it was an anticipated moment most of us at court had been waiting for."
"Your country is quite lovely, Prince Doran," Sansa complimented. "Exotic, exciting… the Dornish must be very proud."
"Oh?" Oberyn noted. "Well if that's what you believe of us, then perhaps we should schedule a touring of Dorne one day so you could be… fully acquainted with the rest of us."
"One day, but that could wait until the negotiations are concluded," Doran said.
Sansa raised a curious eyebrow. 'Negotiations? Daveth, is that why we're really here?'
Areo Hotah stepped forward. "As a precaution, the Prince has asked that you relinquish your weapons to us. He wouldn't want a rather… unfortunate incident to occur in our lands."
Daveth looked at the tall, halberd-wielding captain of the Martell guard. Of his Kingsguard, only Ser Jaime Lannister was the one who appeared visibly uncomfortable at being stuck in a distant land surrounded by a noble house that despises his own without having a weapon to defend himself or others. The Young Stag gave a brief nod.
"Very well," he spoke. "I'll give mine as a gesture of good faith, but I'm afraid that I must insist that my Kingsguard be permitted to keep theirs for security purposes."
Areo frowned, gripping his halberd. "The Prince insists—"
"Captain. It's fine."
Turning to Prince Doran, Areo reluctantly steps aside as Daveth hands over his iron spiked warhammer and Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer to the Dornish guardsmen—noticing with some amusement at the sight of how some were actually straining under the weight of the Baratheon warhammer as they carried them off. Ser Lucius nodded his head in approval as the Kingsguards kept their weapons locked in their sheaths; it was a small compromise, but a fair one nonetheless.
Doran turned to Ellaria. "Have our handmaidens prepare a bath for the Queen."
"You're very kind to offer, Prince Doran," Sansa curtsied, "but I must see to my son and daughter before—"
"We'll get them settled in," Ellaria offered. "Trust me. I've got four children of my own with Oberyn so we've more experience in raising children."
Sansa was rather uncertain, but opted to follow Ellaria Sand and a dozen Dornish handmaidens to bathe her twins before taking a bath herself. The Dornish climate was a rather hot one, and both Lyonel and Cassana were fussing about—whether for attention, to cool off or for food. Either way, Sansa looked back at Daveth who nodded his head motioning her to continue on ahead of him. Once out of earshot, Doran Martell looked at Daveth more closely as the assembly began their stroll towards the Water Gardens.
"Your sister Princess Myrcella has been asking for you lately," he mentioned.
Ser Jaime watched as his nephew tensed up a bit.
"I know. I haven't seen her in over three years. Has she been giving you trouble?"
Oberyn chimed in. "Not at all. She's looked uncertain at first, but your sister's adjusted to Dorne quite nicely."
"That's… good to know. I want to believe Myrcella's been happy here."
"You have my word," the Red Viper nodded. "We don't hurt little girls in Dorne."
Daveth glanced at him. 'If only that were true; everywhere in the world, they hurt little girls.'
"Would you like to see her?" Doran asked, catching the Young Stag off-guard. "The talks can wait at least for another day until you've at least settled in."
"You'd do that?" he let word slip before recomposing himself. "I mean…"
"Oberyn will show you the way."
The Red Viper led Daveth, Olyvar, Jaime, Lucius and Ariyana in the other direction away from Doran and the Martell guardsmen. "The Water Gardens are this way," he implored.
As the royal host followed Oberyn Martell through the catacombs of the Dornish vineyards and swimming pools, the Young Stag felt as if his nerves were becoming unsettled at the realization of actually reuniting with his sister Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Indeed, it had been many years since they last saw each other. Daveth had planned to make it up to his sister for not being able to keep in touch with her as he promised. There was so much he wanted to tell her.
His uncle Ser Jaime, on the other hand, continued eyeing his nephew whilst on the way to reunite with his "niece". Jaime knew Daveth would be a man of his word and keep her true parentage a secret, yet he also understood that there would eventually be a time when some people would start talking about it.
At the Water Gardens…
Converging on the Water Gardens with Oberyn Martell leading them, Daveth adjusted his collar—still not used to the Dornish heat. Indeed, only he, Jaime and Lucius were somewhat bothered by it, but not Ariyana. Being the only Dornish in the Kingsguard, Ariyana was more adaptable to her homeland's climate. Even so, the Young Stag was led into the Water Gardens before ultimately stopping in his tracks.
"Here we are," Oberyn announced.
Daveth felt as if the wind was knocked out of him; before his very eyes he saw his sister Myrcella snogging with the young man he assumed to be Trystane Martell.
"Well, well. The Princess seems to have made herself at home," Lucius quipped.
Jaime and Daveth both nearly frowned, but the Young Stag redirected his gaze at the scene. Myrcella had grown into a beautiful young woman, having inherited their mother Cersei's looks but none of Cersei's cruel personality. Last time Daveth saw Myrcella, she was but a girl; looking upon her now… the Young Stag found himself struggling to find the words.
"There she is…" Daveth reminisced almost breathlessly.
Oberyn almost seemed to detect his brief sense of hesitation. "You sound conflicted. Don't you even want to say hello?"
"It's… not conflict, per se; though I suppose it's a bit hard to accept the fact that Myrcella's a woman grown now."
"And that makes you sad?" asked Lucius.
"Not in that way," he denied. "Seven hells… this is harder than I thought. She's got a new home now. A new life. Has been for years. Given everything that's happened, I'll just complicate that for her."
Lucius, shaking his head, gripped his King's shoulder. "Listen to me, lad. We know you'd never intentionally jeopardize your siblings' future or livelihood. Princess Myrcella doesn't need to know any of the details, but would it really be so difficult for her to know she has an older brother who loves her? A brother who practically raised her?"
The Young Stag's head spun with debate; whether or not to go. His face turned, glancing at his feet before returning his eyes towards Myrcella. "No, I suppose not…" he confessed reluctantly.
Oberyn joined in, giving Daveth a nudge forward. "It's all right, Oathkeeper. Talk to her."
Daveth inhaled through his nostrils and out his mouth. "All right. Here we go," he readied himself. "Ser Jaime? I'll need you to back me up here."
Not understanding exactly why his own nephew would call out to him for reinforcements, Jaime Lannister accompanied Daveth through the Water Gardens to approach Myrcella and Trystane. He noticed with slight amusement at noticing the fact that his own nephew was more nervous than he was, but then again… so was Jaime.
Daveth approached with Jaime at his side, mentally preparing himself for the long-awaited reunion. Luckily for the two, neither Myrcella nor Tyrstane heard their approach. Stopping in front of them, the Young Stag stood tall.
"'Cella," he called out.
Myrcella and Trystane immediately stop kissing and turned around. Myrcella's ears perked up at the familiar nickname she was called during her childhood; her eyes widened in surprise and slowly released herself from Trystane's embrace.
"Daveth? I-is it really you?" Myrcella asked in disbelief.
Daveth looked down briefly before returning to meet his sister's gaze. In turn, Myrcella recognized her eldest brother standing before her. Last time she saw him he was clean shaven and stoic, but now here he was bearing noticeable scars and had grown physically stronger. Both Myrcella and Daveth had changed over the years, though they were still able to recognize one another.
Giving a brief nod, Daveth confirmed his presence was real. Myrcella felt a wave of emotion wash over her at first before her face broke into a huge smile and rushed over to embrace her brother, catching him momentarily by surprise. Daveth glanced down at Myrcella and ran his fingers through her lush long blonde hair.
"I've missed you, big brother," Myrcella sighed in his chest.
"I missed you too," Daveth replied.
"You looked different when I left. You had… less scars."
"I know. But look at you. You've grown into a lovely young woman."
"And you look like an old man."
Daveth blinked. "Wha…?"
Myrcella giggled cheekily.
Lucius laughed. "She's got you there, Your Grace."
"Laugh it up, Ser Lucius," he grumbled sarcastically.
Even Jaime found his "niece's" Myrcella quick-witted barb amusing. Just as Tyrion was the only one of Lord Tywin's three children to inherit his keen mind, both Daveth and Myrcella were the only two of Cersei's four children to inherit the famous intellect running in the family – meaning that Myrcella is essentially the intellect of Tywin or Tyrion put in the beautiful body of a young, teenaged Cersei; Daveth was quite similar, though his intellect was put in the powerful body of a young, stronger Robert Baratheon.
Once Myrcella was done with her chuckle, she cleared her throat and decided to introduce her betrothed to her brother.
"Allow me to introduce my intended, Prince Trystane of House Martell," she introduced him. "Trystane, this is my older brother, King Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name."
Trystane approached and knelt to one knee. "It's an honor to finally meet you in-person, Your Grace. Indeed, I am Trystane Martell, son of Prince Doran Martell and heir to Dorne," he spoke politely. "Your sister speaks highly of you."
Daveth grew more serious. 'At least the boy knows his manners.' "You may rise."
Trystane stands up.
"This is Ser Lucius Blackmyre and my uncle Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard," Myrcella pointed out.
"Excellent. Good to meet you," Jaime said shaking hands with Trystane.
Myrcella noticed Olyvar staring at her. "And you are…?" she asked curiously, having never met this stranger before.
"Oh! Ah, um. I'm Olyvar of House Frey, my Princess," he introduced himself. "I'm His Grace's squire."
"A squire? Well, that's a new one."
The heir to Dorne glanced to his left and saw a familiar face. "Aunt Ari?" he acknowledged. "You're in the Kingsguard too?"
Ariyana nodded. "Good to see you too, Trystane. And yes, the King appointed me to his Kingsguard some years ago."
"Good to see that Dorne gets a voice in the Kingsguard again," he noted.
Daveth looked at Ariyana. "I take it you've been acquainted with young Prince Trystane?"
She nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. 'Aunt Ari' was what he always called me when I was his father's ward."
Embarrassed, Trystane scratched the back of his head. "Ahem!" he cleared his throat. "I'm sure you all must be tired from the long journey here. Please, let us go inside. House Martell extends to you our hospitality."
Daveth nodded as Myrcella looked up at him.
"Please tell me you brought the twins with you," her face lighted up.
"They are," he answered. "Sansa's giving Lyonel and Cassana a bath right now. They'll be joining us momentarily."
Myrcella nearly squealed. "Oooh! I can't wait to see their little faces!"
'Ah… apparently she's been in touch with Sansa.'
"How's it like? Being a father?"
Daveth shrugged. "A lot harder than you think."
As Trystane and Myrcella led Daveth, Olyvar, Jaime and Lucius inside the private leisure palace, Ariyana stayed behind with Prince Oberyn. Once they were certain Daveth was out of earshot, Oberyn turned to Ariyana.
"You're certain about your reports on this boy?" he asked her. "My house was gracious enough to take you in after your mother and uncle died."
"I know, Prince Oberyn," she replied.
"So, what will you tell my brother?"
"I'll tell him the truth." Ariyana hands over a rolled up parchment sealed with purple wax. "Here's what I've been able to gather on the Young Stag. It could be useful during the negotiations."
Oberyn noticed. "Then let's hope our gambit pulls off."
As the Red Viper leaves to inform Doran, Ariyana is left in the Water Gardens alone.
'I'm sorry for the deception, Your Grace,' she somewhat lamented, 'but it was necessary. All of us in Dorne needed to know more about you first.'
Somewhere in the Dornish desert…
Locke along with the Bastard's Boys and the Bastard's girls had already helped themselves to whatever wildlife they were able to hunt along the Dornish coastline. Snakes, fish, whatever they could catch. The wanted fugitives chewed on the small amount of meat as the vicious hounds barked and snapped at each other fighting over scraps; Ramsay Snow's advice of their aggression flaring up upon their arrival in Dorne.
"Vicious bitches," he observed, cooking a snake while watching the Dreadfort's kennelmaster Ben Bones reigning in the hounds.
"Down girls. Down!" he shouted.
The more common a large, muscular, black-haired dog bit down hard onto a bone contested by a smaller, more slender brown-haired dog. The Bastard's girls were indeed a ferocious bunch even when hungry; but this small meal did little to satisfy their hunger.
"Be a shit way to die, eaten alive by one of those bitches," Damon Dance-for-Me said indicating Grey Jeyne.
"There is always shittier ways to die," Skinner noted. "Nothing's worse than having your back against the wall and an entire continent huntin' ya."
Locke spat. "Don't care how a man prefers his method of death, so long as the winner reaps the reward."
"How disappointing," Sour Alyn noted. "Thought you'd want an exciting life not a boring hunt."
In a fury Locke punched Sour Alyn, startling the hounds and caused them all to begin barking loudly.
"Quiet! Shush!" Ben Bones ordered.
A horse neighs in the distance. Locke looks around and spots a group of Dornish riders approaching.
"How many do you count?" he asks.
Damon Dance-for-Me observed. "Four," he answered.
"We can take them."
"The hounds are always hungry for more meat. Figured we'd give 'em more before we march on the move again."
One of the riders notices them. "Halt!" The rider holds up his hand and the party stops, having spotted Locke and his men. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
Locke was running out of patience.
"Swords in the sand! Now!"
"Over my dead body," he growled.
They pull out their swords. Damon Dance-for-Me puts his down in the sand, and then flings a knife into the throat of a rider. He then kills another, stabbing him and knocking him off of his horse. A third charges him, and Locke knocks him off of his horse as well. However, he survives. The Bastard's girls barked and lunged forth, clamping their jaws tightly around the fallen Dornish rider and tear him to pieces.
"AAAAAHHH!" he screamed in terror before his throat was torn out.
Outnumbering the Dornish riders 15 to 4, Ben Bones unleashes all the hounds on their attackers.
"Rip 'em, girls! Rip 'em!" he ordered.
One by one, each of the vicious hounds attacked the riders, one of whom is revealed to be larger than Locke. Surrounded on all sides, each of the Dornish riders are pushed back down a hill and falls off their horses before each are individually mauled by the hounds. Ignoring the sickening sounds of the hounds chewing meat and bones crunching and blood spurting everywhere across the sand, Locke picks up each of the Bastard's Boys' fallen adversaries' weapons along with their Dornish attire for disguise.
"This should get us inside," he examined.
Damon Dance-for-Me wiped his face of the blood. "So… where to now?" he asks.
Locke's face scrunched and readily sharpened his blade. "Sunspear. Abduct the Princess, and if we spot the Oathkeeper… kill him. Leave no witnesses."
Chapter End
Author's Note: Sorry this took a while guys, but lately I've been called back into work so uploading each chapter might take a while. Besides that we've got a brother-sister reunion, a Kingsguard keeping a hidden secret and Locke finds his way into Dorne—potentially diverting from the original plan and plotting to carry out an assassination attempt. What are your opinions on the viper and stag's first encounter and what of the secret Ariyana's kept hidden to herself that only Oberyn himself knows about? Think it'll affect her standing in the Kingsguard? Thoughts? Let me know.
Guest #4: Please continue
Guest #3: I really do not see how the thing with Daenerys going to play out, Daveth will pretty much have all the seven kingdoms on his if Dorne become loyal and fights for him.
Guest #2: Is Dorne going finally join the seven kingdoms again.
―Stay tuned.
Guest #1: Great Chapter can not wait for more.
Mac55: Uh... a Prince demanding A King to give up his weapons?
―Diplomatic relations between the Martells, Baratheons and Lannisters are strained at best; so best not to push their luck.
C.E.W: Will Locke's ship captain sell him out to the Sand Snakes. like that ship captain sold Jaime in series?
―Stay tuned.
Crusade: All I want in life is thick thighs and longer chapters...
Zurver: Dorne better be staying in their line and not up to anything against Daveth
kira444: The plan failed the moment he said kill the king. Because it's not like the Mountain got wrecked by that same king and his peeps. Oh wait...
chase manaena: this was very interesting cant wait for the next chapter
The Last Kenpachi: 15 idiots think they can kidnap the princess and kill the king? Laughable.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
―Thanks.
mpowers045: They better be dead before they start their mission
Silent Wolf Singer: Love this chapter. The awkward reunion and realizing they each have grown up.
10868letsgo: Ohh! wonder will drama happens and Ramsey finally be killed?
The Three Stoogies: Have to agree with zabuza what is dorne up to keep up with the good work
Moshi: Does Ramsey really think they can out smart the Dornish and just easily smuggle into Sunspear, kidnap and kill someone and no one would know?! Besides, they are at the Water Gardens...oopsie guess they didn't do their homework. They just need to die already. A couple of white guys in Dorne, with dogs, oh yes they stand out like a sore thumb.
Hear My Fury: Yeah great job Locke. No really a brilliant move. Kill the king when he's surrounded by warriors who could take you with their hands tied behind their back plus the freaking Red Viper of Dorne. And the Sand Snakes. Brilliant. Aside from that. Holy Shit is Ariyana Sansa's Half-sister? Oberyn said her mother and her uncle died. That must mean Brandon Stark right? She couldn't have been raised as Doran's ward for only a few months after Ned died. In fact, Ned was alive when she was introduced. I am loving this story. Can't wait for the next one!
ZabuzasGirl: ok what the hell is Dorne up to? They better not be causing trouble.
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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,418Chapter 87: Baratheon-Martell Peace Talks: Phase 1
In the Water Gardens' main apartments…
Daveth and his uncle Ser Jaime were being led into one of the many rooms in the Water Gardens' apartments by the Martell captain of the guard Areo Hotah. It was proving to be a long two days since their arrival in Dorne and the negotiations between the Iron Throne and the ruling House Martell of Dorne were set to begin at any moment. Both men were dressed in a long Dornish cotton tunic, gold robe with drawstring pants, and a gilded bronze leather wrap belt around the waist for the occasion. The Young Stag didn't look comfortable in this new attire, yet kept his mouth shut.
'Gold was never my color to begin with,' he referred to his clothes.
Jaime looked at his nephew. "Gold doesn't suit you," he pointed out.
Daveth rolled his eyes. "Manners, uncle. Remember we're guests in someone else's home."
"Be grateful that Prince Doran has agreed to hear you out," Areo said. "Had it been someone else like the Lannisters representing the crown, well… Let's just say that your family isn't well-liked in Dorne."
"I'm well aware of the lingering hostilities between House Martell and House Lannister," the Young Stag countered. "But I'm the one representing the crown, not any of my relatives."
"You'd worry that we might try something?"
"Both sides might suspect the other of duplicity. If I indeed wanted to try anything, then we will have accomplished nothing."
Areo turned to Jaime. "And what of you, Lannister?"
"Not the way I would've said it," he replied, "but that's one way of putting it."
The three men kept walking until they arrived at their destination; within the Martell court there was a display of a total amount of three couches and chairs, with Princes Doran and Oberyn Martell sitting or standing at the main sofa, Ellaria Sand sitting next to Oberyn, Ser Lucius Blackmyre and Ariyana Dayne standing guard at the side of a sofa across from Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane.
"Prince Doran," Daveth acknowledged. "Oberyn."
"We're glad you could join us, brother," Myrcella greeted.
"Forgive us. We started without you," Doran said. "Please, sit."
Daveth sat down on the sofa across from Trystane and Myrcella; both Lucius and Ariyana nodded as Jaime looked at his 'niece.' The dress she was wearing bared more skin that the ones she originally wore back in King's Landing.
"Princess Myrcella," Jaime greeted.
Myrcella looked up at him. "Uncle."
"That's… a lovely dress."
"You don't like it?"
"You must be cold."
"Not at all," she shook her head. "The Dornish climate agrees with me."
"Take a seat, Ser Jaime," Daveth gestured to his uncle.
Jaime turned to his nephew, shaking his head as he sat next to him.
"Will the Wolf Queen be joining us?" Oberyn implored.
"Sansa will be here at any—"
On que, Queen Sansa Stark had arrived with Shae and Brella, each of them carried with them the royal twins Lyonel and Cassana. Sansa had just had her bath so her red hair looked a bit moist, indicating it was still in the middle of drying. She looked uncomfortable in her dress; a refined golden attire – soft fabric which showed more skin with light material unafraid to almost fall off the shoulders and two necklaces around her neck, she felt as if her skin was exposed than usual as she was a daughter of the North. Sansa was more used to the cold climate, not the heat. Myrcella looked up at Sansa and rose from her seat.
"Sister-in-law," she greeted, giving Sansa a warm hug.
Sansa returned the gesture. "It is good to see you again after so many years, Princess Myrcella. We missed you at court."
"I missed you all, as well," Myrcella looked at the twins and nearly lost it. "Oooh, my!" she squealed, barely able to contain her excitement. "A-are they…?"
"My son and daughter, Prince Lyonel and Princess Cassana Baratheon," Sansa confirmed.
"Why hello, little ones. It's me, your auntie 'Cella."
Myrcella poked the twins' cheeks; Lyonel and Cassana both giggled and patted their aunt's face. Sansa smiled at her children's act of affection with their paternal aunt. Jaime observed this, a rather blank expression on his face made visibly apparent.
"Perhaps we should get underway," Doran cleared his throat.
Myrcella and Sansa returned to their seat.
"Never thought we'd expect a Lannister to come to Dorne," Ellaria said, referring to Jaime. "Why follow the Young Stag here?"
Jaime sighed with exasperation. "I'm a member of the Kingsguard, assigned to protect the King himself—who as you know by now is my nephew," he pointed out. "Also, I preferred to look out for the safety of my niece, Princess Myrcella."
"Where His Grace goes, the Kingsguard follows suit," Ser Lucius explained.
"Ah yes, Ser Lucius the Bull of House Blackmyre," Doran noted, "the man whose strategies helped bring down Maelys the Monstrous and extinguished the Blackfyre bloodline on the Stepstones."
"It might've been one of my battle plans, but it was our sworn brother Ser Barristan the Bold himself who delivered the final blow," he corrected.
Oberyn looked at him. "I understand that you were also acquainted with our uncle in the Kingsguard, Prince Lewyn Martell."
Lucius nodded. "I did. One of the finest men I've ever met. I fought with him at the Battle of the Trident many years ago."
Doran turned to look at Daveth. "We understand you were also responsible for avenging him."
"And how is that?" he asked.
"Prince Lewyn was slain by Lyn Corbray, lad," the old Kingsguard explained, "but he was already wounded before the final duel."
Daveth raised an eyebrow. "I did not know that."
"Why would you? We mostly tend to keep such deep personal matters to ourselves," Doran explained. "Even so, we are somewhat pleased that our family has been… mostly avenged."
"Mostly?"
Doran, Oberyn and Ellaria exchanged glances before looking at the Young Stag. A servant arrives and sets down food and drink before the royal guests.
"Do you partake in wine?" the Red Viper asked.
Daveth shook his head. "I don't drink on a regular basis, if that's what you mean. Only on social occasions when protocol requires it. Too much tends to dull the senses; makes a man act rather foolish."
"That's the point."
"Ariyana tells me that she heard you mentioning that it would make you look and sound more like your father, the late King Robert Baratheon," Doran mentioned.
'Now that was a bit too personal.' The Young Stag set down his cup, turning his head to look at Ariyana. "Really?" he asked suspiciously. "What else did she tell you about me?"
Ariyana said nothing.
"Well? Something to say?"
Sansa looked at Ariyana. "Ariyana… what did you do?" she beseeched.
Ariyana sighed, apparently deciding to tell the truth. "Forgive me, Your Grace. But I've been sending letters to Sunspear long before I joined you, an important mission I was told."
"What was the content of those letters?" Daveth asked, frowning disappointingly.
"Information."
"Information about what?"
Doran and Oberyn exchanged glances, nodding at each other—knowing full well where this conversation was going.
"Dorne didn't know anything about you personally. We've only heard of you by reputation," she explained. "You were an anomaly to us. So we needed someone to get close to the royal family to ascertain the truth."
"And so the Martells sent you?"
Ariyana gave a brief nod. "It was during the rebellion of your uncle Lord Renly Baratheon. I owed Prince Doran since my mother and uncle died, Your Grace. I had nowhere else to go."
"When you ascended the Iron Throne," Oberyn brought up. "The Battle of Blackwater Bay. When you were married. Your destruction of the Iron Islands."
That did little to ease the Young Stag's growing frown. He felt betrayed. "So you felt it was okay to spy on me?"
"Your Grace…"
"Why hide that?" he felt his temper slowly rise. "What else are you hiding?"
"I have nothing for you," she insisted.
Daveth turned to Doran. "If there's to be any alliance between us, if they're ever to work, I need to know if I can trust you; because if this is how we start the negotiations between our two houses, Prince Doran, then I'm deeply disappointed."
Doran shook his head. "I doubt it is fair to blame Ariyana Dayne for simply doing what I asked her to do for the people of Dorne. Besides, our association is new. Would you trust me with information that puts your house's future at risk?"
"I already placed a lot on the line to make this work," he countered. "So what could my family hope to gain by simply lying to you now?"
Ellaria sneered. "You have the Baratheon name and Lannister blood," she said. "They weren't particularly welcome in Dorne—"
"I do look like my father, mother or grandfather to you?"
Silence filled the room, until…
"*Waah! Waah! Waah!*"
Both Lyonel and Cassana started crying at the heated tone of their father's voice, indicating they were being somewhat frightened by Daveth. Sansa immediately stood up from her seat to tend to her children, rocking and cradling them—doing her absolute best to calm them down; even with Myrcella's assistance, it only did much to ease the twins. Daveth looked around, trading glances between Ariyana, Ellaria, Oberyn and Doran Martell. Trystane, meanwhile, remained silent—unsure of what to make.
Daveth shook his head and stood up, adjusting his collar as he worked to recompose himself. "We'll be taking a brief recess until things settled down. For now I can't seem to trust anyone in light of recent events. Once the air has been cleared, then we'll talk properly."
"Daveth—" Sansa called out.
Without saying a word, Daveth walked out of the meeting room in haste. Judging by his posture, the Young Stag was understandably angry at the deception of one of his own Kingsguard confessing to having spied on him and the Martells grilling into him—whether it was his own heritage or past actions on military campaigns. The first round of peace talks sputtered and was delayed. Lyonel and Cassana still wailed despite Shae and Brella's attempts at calming them.
Sansa looked at Ariyana, her eyes filled with disappointment. "We trusted you, Ariyana. How could you do this to him? Hasn't His Grace been through enough already?" she reprimanded.
Surprisingly, Ariyana couldn't bring herself to look the Wolf Queen in the eyes. She wouldn't blame her; ever since her arrival to King's Landing, the Sword of the Morning was embraced by the royal court with open arms… and yet they knew nothing about the plot. When Ariyana and House Martell hoped to use this as a way of beginning a more open dialogue, they were not expecting this sort of reaction from the Young Stag.
"I protected you. Fought for you."
"The Baratheons are rather known for their… mercurial tempers when they get angry," Jaime pointed out. "Once he's calmed down, he'll be back for the talks. Daveth knows that he's come too far just to back out now."
Lucius nodded somewhat. "His Grace might not be like most of his Baratheon or Lannister relatives, he still doesn't take kindly to any of his inner circle deceiving him."
"This was not an outcome we were expecting," Doran examined. "Yet he said he 'can't trust anyone in light of recent events.' What did he mean by that?"
Before Sansa could say anything, Oberyn blurted out.
"His mother and grandfather are dead."
Jaime frowned at being reminded of those two losses; Myrcella, on the other hand, was stricken with shock. Her eyes widened and stunned, the young Princess felt as if the wind was kicked out of her.
"Mother, grandfather… They're what? Dead?" she spoke up. "How?"
"Dear girl, your mother was charged for committing treason," Oberyn explained. "Instead of ascertaining the truth in a court hearing, Cersei instead demanded a trial by seven," he pointed to his injuries. "A trial she lost and was later executed for."
"I told you no one walks away from me," Cersei's voice ran through Jaime's head. "You are no son of mine."
"Lord Tywin, on the other hand," the Red Viper continued, "was assassinated… by his own daughter's minions."
Myrcella looked uncertain, but during her stay in Dorne she learned to truly thrive and determine whenever someone was being truthful or deceitful. She feels closer to the Martells now than she does to the Lannisters. And the Martells did not lie to her about this; being removed from Cersei and her family for so long made Myrcella realize what a normal and loving family is like and realized that her own mother Cersei had long ignored her well-being. Her thoughts dwelled on her family's loss… to her own brother's well-being.
"How… What about Daveth?" she implored.
Sansa looked somewhat saddened, unsure of how to answer her sister-in-law. "I… don't know what to say, Myrcella. A lot has changed over the last few years; fate has not been kind to him."
"Will he be all right?"
"I'm uncertain," the Wolf Queen answered honestly.
"Well, we've got to go check on him. King or no, he's still my brother."
Doran sighed and massaged his temple. "Very well. The negotiations can wait until His Grace collects himself. Oberyn, who do you have close by near the King?"
"Three of my daughters should be coming back from their adventures with that Frey boy," Oberyn said. "With any luck, they should be here by midday."
"Then let's hope it's sooner rather than later. We still have much to discuss."
Somewhere on the beach…
On the beaches of Dorne stood a small golden tent, casting a shadow in which used to guard inhabitants from the blazing sun. Within the area were three young Dornish women Olyvar Frey accompanied. Three of the eight famous (or infamous) Sand Snakes, bastard daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell, honed their skills.
The eldest among them was Obara Sand, a formidable warrior and the most overtly martial of the Sand Snakes. Dressed in a more masculine style than her sisters, Obara always wore leather armor—even when not in combat; her robes greatly resemble the ones her father wears. Obara inherited Oberyn's martial prowess, particularly his skill with a traditional Dornish spear, and is staunchly disciplined to not overtly display her emotions.
The second was Nymeria Sand, daughter of an eastern noblewoman from Yi Ti and has the most refined appearance – though still incorporating leather armor and riding pants. Being the most reserved and calculating of her sisters, Nymeria tends to hold off with her 8-foot long bullwhip and analyze her opponents to calculate a more efficient means of defeating them whenever she found her enemy's weak points. She is also the more recognizable as she is named after the legendary warrior-queen Nymeria of the Rhoynar who led her people's migration to Dorne and united her people with House Martell 1,000 years ago and incorporated much of the Rhoynish culture and customs into Dornish society.
And lastly, the third was Tyene Sand, eldest daughter of her father Prince Oberyn Martell's paramour Ellaria Sand. Although she feigns being soft-spoken and childlike, she mostly deploys this as a deceptive tactic to keep her enemies off guard as she is just as fierce as her older sisters if not more impetuous. Tyene basically wears the same Dornish woman's dress as Nymeria does, but more revealing with side cutouts and a more aggressive X-shaped leather piece in the front, symbolically more aggressive. In combat, Tyene deploys twin daggers with a snake motif infamously coated with lethal poisons so that even a small scratch may prove deadly if not treated. Tyene is quick on the draw and can move so quickly before even her older sisters can restrain her.
Olyvar rode his horse on the sandy shores, his eyes trailing up and down Tyene's figure which she easily noticed.
"You like what you see?" she teased.
"Can't help it, my dear fair maiden," he flirted. "I've seen quite a few women in the Seven Kingdoms during my time with the King, but Dornish women are the most beautiful women in the world."
"Thank you."
Obara scoffed. "He said Dornish women, not you."
Tyene raised an eyebrow. "Tell me," she mocked feeling hurt, "am I not the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?"
The Frey squire blushed. "Th-the most gorgeous…"
"Oh, get a room you two!" Nymeria lectured.
Tyene impulsively stuck her tongue out of her mouth, directing it at her two half-sisters as a response to their taunts.
Upon climbing over a sandy hill, Nymeria looked across the distance and noticed a faint person lying on his back in what appeared to be a pool of his own blood.
"Someone's here," she called out.
Kicking the side of their hoses, the quadrio rode to get a closer look. Once they got close enough, Olyvar's face scrunched in appalling disgust. It was the same Pentoshi merchant captain that accompanied the royal host with them to Dorne on the King Robert's Warhammer several days ago. He was covered in scorpions, missing a few fingers, half his left ear and lips was bitten off, both his legs were broken and he looked as if someone or something had mauled him.
"I know him," Olyvar examined.
Obara looked suspicious. "Do you now?"
"He was with us when we arrived at Planky Town days ago. Who could've done such a thing?"
The man gurgled and gagged, coughing up his own blood as he slowly reached his hand out as if pleading for help.
"Blurah… gcagh… *cough, cough!*"
Olyvar knelt down. "What happened, ser? Who did this to you?" he asked concerned.
Gripping the squire tightly, the Pentoshi merchant captain uttered. "Man… *cough cough!* scar along right eye… pack of dogs… bushy beard… X-shaped red man… I *cough cough!*"
Before he could utter anything else, the man's eyes rolled to the back of his head and loosened his grip before finally going limp. Olyvar examined the man more closely and determined that he was dead.
'Poor soul. What a horrible way to die,' he thought.
Obara remained indifferent. "He wouldn't have survived anyway," she said bluntly, drinking a flask of water.
"Even if we did anything, it wouldn't have made a difference," added Nymeria. "His injuries were too severe. Still even by Dornish standards, this method of torture is horrendous."
Olyvar looked lost in thought. "Tell me, are there any particular breed of dogs in Dorne?"
Tyene shook her head. "None that comes to mind. We have no dogs in Dorne. Why?"
Olyvar again placed his fist under his chin, thinking hard.
"Even if there was, no outsiders would've last long in Dorne should they try anything," Obara noted. "When I was a child, Oberyn came to take me to court. I'd never seen this man, and yet he called himself my father. My mother wept, said I was too young, and a girl. Oberyn tossed his spear at my feet and said, 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles. But the Gods let us choose our weapons.' My father pointed to the spear, and then to my mother's tears."
Spinning her spear around, she planted the pommel of her spear deep into the sand.
"We've all made our choices, sister," Nymeria said.
Tyene looked at the dead Pentoshi. "He said something about a man with a bushy beard. Pack of dogs…."
"It appears we have an assassin on the loose in Dorne," Obara concluded.
"Scar along the right eye, bushy beard, X-shaped red man… Who could—?" Olyvar uttered quietly before his eyes widened. "Wait, wait! I know who he speaks of!"
The three Sand Snakes turned to the Frey squire.
"Well?" Nymeria asked.
Olyvar turned to them. "We've got to get back to the others! We've got to warn Prince Doran and the King!"
"Who are you so frightened of?"
"It's not who I'm frightened of, more like our assassin has a hell of a huge chip on their shoulder."
"And that concerns us how…?"
"Because I've seen how these people work up close during the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. They leave no witnesses. If they're after King Daveth, then chances are they'll try to get rid of the Martells just to cover their tracks!"
Chapter End him will help ease relations the right way. Locke o