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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 118: Bringing Down the Hammer
At the Red Keep…
Daveth moved several pieces of cyvasse on the board, all whilst keeping a close eye on his son Lyonel and daughter Cassana. So far the children were being well-behaved with Catelyn playing with her grandchildren. The Young Stag's headache had gone away, but his mind drifted to the conflict with the Sparrows. With the City Watch along with soldiers from the Baratheon and Lannister barracks patrolling the streets and atop the ramparts, the Tyrell and Royce volunteers had blended in the streets to keep a close eye on suspicious activities.
During playtime, however, the Prince tossed one of his toys and hit Cassana on the head—causing her to whine 'eeek' in surprise and held her head. Their grandmother noticed the rough housing and intervened.
"Lyonel, don't throw your toys at your sister," Catelyn firmly told him.
"Sowwy, gwammie," the young Prince apologized, giving sad puppy dog eyes.
Cassana luckily didn't cry, but merely rubbed her head from where one of her brother's toys bounced off. If the Princess was an angel at her age, then Lyonel was certainly being a handful.
"Lyonel," Daveth called to his son, "look at your sister and tell her you're sorry."
He turned to Cassana. "I sowwy."
"I's okie," she replied.
Catelyn nodded in approval. "That's good, children."
The twins resumed playing with their toys. Catelyn and Daveth were pleased that they had already learned their mannerisms and proving to be adept studies. The Young Stag believed if Lyonel and Cassana maintained their progress at this rate, they could one day end up surpassing him. But only time will tell whether or not this might be accurate or exaggerate.
"Is it always like this?" Daveth asked.
She looked at her son-in-law. "It gets challenging the more they grow up, but so far you and Sansa are off to a good start."
"That's… reassuring, mother-in-law. Sometimes I doubt my ability to parent. We're doing everything we can to give them a better life."
*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!*
"Who is it?" the Young Stag called out.
"It's Bodrin, Your Grace," a voice answered on the other side of the door, "and Lord Royce. Our patrons and we wish to have an audience with you. It's rather urgent."
Daveth slowly rose to his feet. Bodrin? He hadn't seen or heard from one of his close informants in over four years since Joffrey's purge of Robert's bastards. Last he heard Bodrin had fled King's Landing into the Riverlands before any form of communication was severed. All this time he thought the old man was dead.
"Come in."
The door pushed open, revealing Bodrin, Yohn Royce and two dark-haired individuals the Young Stag hadn't seen before. Catelyn recognized one of them while Lyonel and Cassana tilted their heads to the side in confusion; who were these strangers?
"Four years, Bodrin. Where have you been?" Daveth mentioned.
"It's a long story, Your Grace," he replied. "But I spent the last year recuperating in Riverrun. Bandits."
"I see."
Yohn stepped forward. "Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace, but our informants have discovered where the Sparrows are hiding. We're beginning a three-phased strategy to bring this minor squabbling to a quick, decisive conclusion as we speak."
"Already? That's good news, Lord Royce. Our city could certainly use it," Daveth noticed the two individuals look at him intently. "And who are these… companions of yours?"
"Ah, yes. Your Grace, these people are-"
Before both Bodrin and Yohn could turn to introduce them, they stepped forward in front of them.
"It's Gendry, Your Grace," he introduced himself with pride. "I'm Robert Baratheon's son. Bastard son."
"And I'm Mya Stone, Your Grace," she introduced herself. "I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard daughter."
Despite Bodrin and Yohn frowning in disappointment at their conduct, Daveth blinked at being relayed with such information and looked at both men with incredulous confusion etched on his face. What in Seven hells is going on here? How many illegitimate offspring did Robert actually sire? Was there something he did himself did not know?
"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on a minute. Can someone please explain to me what is going on here?" Daveth beseeched.
"They were meant to keep that part to themselves," Yohn said.
Gendry brushed his concerns off. "The three of us share the same father. Why shouldn't we trust each other? We're family after all, trueborn or baseborn, right?"
'Yet you realize that I've never met any of you until now, right? So you'll have to excuse me that is all new to me,' Daveth eyed Gendry and Mya up and down. "When and where were each of you born?" he asked.
"Flea Bottom, year 282 AC," answered Gendry.
"The Vale of Arryn, year 279 AC," Mya replied.
Bodrin decided that now with everything out in the open, he might as well relay the private sensitive details to the King. "I know this might come across as a bit of a surprise, Your Grace, but believe it or not they're the last of King Robert's ba…" he stopped when he noticed the children so he decided to rephrase his words, "…ah, illegitimate offspring. Hence why they closely resemble you in regards to appearance."
"I… see," the Young Stag replied still trying to absorb as much detail. "Bodrin and Lord Royce informed me you two played a role against the Sparrows, yes?"
His bastard half-sister nodded. "Pests were everywhere, but one of your eunuch's spies told me and Lady Myranda where they're hiding… and more."
"Meaning?"
"One of the Most Devout was funding them and providing them with weapons. Some old crow clergy, Unella? I think?"
Daveth shook his head. "Unbelievable. And the others?"
"Held prisoner, but if we're to get them and Ser Loras out of their custody – it has to be now."
Gendry agreed. "Bodrin told us the plan and who we're up against, Your Grace. Let us help you."
Bodrin looked at him. "Gendry, don't be a fool. This is much bigger than it seems. You're not a soldier."
"No, but I'm a fighter. And he won't be needing a smith when the time comes."
"And he won't need a guide to herd the troops to flush 'em out," Mya pointed out.
Daveth sighed and shook his shoulders. "Do you have any experience in close-quarters combat? Do you know how to use a sword?"
"No," Gendry replied. "I prefer a hammer."
Mya unveiled her specialized ice hook. "This is mostly used for climbing steep mountains, but can also be used as a weapon. Don't worry; I know how to use it."
"Gendry can handle himself in a fight," Bodrin vouched for him.
Yohn begrudgingly resigned. "Mya… is more than capable of looking out for herself," he said.
"Good," the Young Stag replied. "Then it's time we bring the fight to the Sparrows."
Throughout King's Landing…
"But first we'll need the extraction team to be ready. They need to be on the move before the High Sparrow catches wind of our plans and alert his followers. He might've caught us off-guard the first time. He thinks he's outplayed us with his small-scale hit-and-run tactics. But all that's about to change; we know every inch of this city more than he does."
Throughout the capital city, merchants and civilians close down their shops and border up their homes to keep themselves out of the crossfire. A mother picked up her children and hurriedly made their way into their homes. With tensions boiling over, they knew trouble was coming. Throughout the streets, the gold cloaks quickened their pace and moved to close key central points: the Dragon Gate, Old Gate, Gate of the Gods, Lion Gate, King's Gate, Mud Gate, and Iron Gate. With every entrance and exist of King's Landing sealed off, no one was getting in or out until the uprising was dealt with.
"Gendry, you and Mya will lead a small strike team to infiltrate the Sparrows' hideout through the sewage systems. It's too narrow for our troops, so your people will need to be sent in one at a time. Once inside, find Ser Loras Tyrell and the remaining Most Devout. Get them out post haste. My youngest brother, Prince Tommen, has insisted on helping out so he'll be going with you. Once you're out, take this bow and arrow with you and shoot it up in the air. The contents inside contain an explosive powder from Essos that, upon detonation, emanates a green flash. Once our troops on the ground see it, they'll know the mission's been successful."
At one of the sewers, Gendry and Mya held their noses and pried open on of the bars encircling the pipes. Although the capital city was much cleaner and healthy, the sewage systems still stank of bile. Covering their noses and mouths, keeping themselves from retching to prevent any loud noise, the Baratheon bastards one-by-one navigated their people through the pipes with Prince Tommen at the very front. A lot of pained, cramped movements later, they reached their destination. Gendry pushes up a manhole cover and emerges into the hideout. Sparrows are seen walking by and don't notice Gendry, Mya and Tommen or any of the strike teams sneaking in one at a time.
"Just keep him safe. Tommen might be a young and inexperienced lad, but he's determined to prove himself. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
Tommen sneaks past a Sparrow; though when one turns around, they are immediately met with Gendry's war hammer while another is felled with Mya's ice pick. Having dispatched the nearby guards, Tommen locates his brother-in-law's cell and pushes it open.
"Loras?" he whispers. "Loras, it's me. Tommen Baratheon."
Curled up onto the floor, a dejected Loras is curled upon onto the floor but turns his head over his shoulders. The heir to Highgarden looked a complete mess: dirtied, his hair matted and tangled and beard grown out. Loras appeared beaten up, almost ready to give up resisting until his saw his rescuers.
"To… Tommen?" Loras asked tiredly.
The Young Cub nods. "I… i-it's gonna be all right now. We're getting you out of here. Your father, Margaery, they're all waiting for you back in the Red Keep," he said untying the rope restraints.
"Father? Margaery? They're… they're still here?" he asked hopefully. "I want it to stop. Just make it stop."
"My brother's not going to let the High Sparrow win, I promise." Tommen undid the ropes and threw one of Loras' arms over his shoulder to help him up. "Come on. We can't stay here. We have to go. Now."
In another room, Gendry and Mya forced open a cell door—revealing the imprisoned Most Devout.
"By the Gods!" Torbert exclaimed.
"Are you the Most Devout?" Mya asked.
Helicent coughed. "We are, but… Who are you, my child?"
"Mya Stone, King Robert's bastard daughter," she answered. "And this is my half-brother, Gendry, another of our father's bastards."
Gendry smashed apart the chains restraining them. "You're safe now. King Daveth sent us to get you out of this place. We're taking you home."
"Oh bless the Mother above us!" Luceon praised. "The Faith will not forget this!"
Back above, soldiers from the Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell and Royce garrison took their cue to splint into different squads on every street—cornering unfortunate Sparrows who weren't able to escape in time. Ser Barristan and Ser Arys were successful in apprehending and eliminating the Faith heretical movement; although the Sparrows fought back, they learned they were no match for well-armed, well-trained, disciplined soldiers. From the Hook, the Street of Flour, Silk, Sisters, Steel and Seeds, the Sparrows were quickly getting dispatched as more civilians began diving for cover to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
"While you do that, Commander Duran's men will do what they can to keep civilians away from the fighting so as to avoid collateral damage. The new and improved City Watch is the one Duran has built. Well trained and well provisioned, up from 2,000 men to 4,500. Once the Sparrows have been rounded up, Ser Kevan Lannister will take over."
From atop the battlements, gold cloaks under Commander Duran's instruction run across stocking arrows for the archers. Below them Sparrows were being backed into a corner by Lannister soldiers led by Lieutenant Tyral and Captain Graige—all under the commander of Ser Kevan Lannister himself.
"Draw!" shouted Commander Duran.
*STRETCHING!*
"Loose!"
*THWANG!*
*SCHHWAFF!*
Archers loose a set of arrows down onto rows of Sparrows huddling around the streets and corners—easily picking them off. Each Sparrow is felled by incoming arrows one by one before they had a chance to flee or get themselves out of the trap they found themselves in. Whenever one tried to make a run for it, a Lannister infantryman held his shield up and forced them back. Other gold cloaks who did not have a bow or arrow merely threw rocks from the top of the battlements.
Ser Kevan, meanwhile – although his mind was on the objective – was worried for at least one in particular. "Lancel…" he mused mournfully.
"Lastly, Ser Jaime and Lord Mace will lead a contingency of Tyrell troops through the Street of Steel and up Visenya's Hill where they will focus their attention on funneling the last remaining Sparrows in the city out into the open – leading them straight into the arms of Lord Tarly and his men. From there, it's checkmate with the knights of the Vale cutting off their only means to escape. The High Sparrow will make his last stand there."
"And should the plan backfire?"
"Then simply pray, Lord Royce. Remember, we only get one shot at this. It's risky. So let's make it count."
Flushed out of their hideaway, the High Sparrow was being escorted by Septa Unella, Brother Lancel and what few remaining followers he had left. His knees were hurting him, yet forced himself to keep moving. It didn't take long for the High Sparrow to realize Daveth Baratheon was already on the move—striking hard and fast in such a short span of time. Before he could rally the rest of the Sparrows, he learned they were completely cut off, isolated and eliminated. Those who resisted were put to the sword, those who fled were put to the sword. And with the only known escape routes blocked, the High Sparrow's only way out was forward.
Far too late did the Sparrows come to understand that they had underestimated the Young Stag's tenacity and ferociousness of House Baratheon, yet ruthless and calculating decisiveness of House Lannister; a dangerous combination mixed into one being.
"The way out should be this way," Brother Lancel pointed to a bright light at the end of a long tunnel. "With luck, we should be able to avoid the Oathkeeper and his men."
By the time they had stepped out into the opening, the High Sparrow, Unella, Lancel and the other Sparrows suddenly stopped in their tracks when they saw many Tyrell soldiers and mounted Arryn lancers cutting them off. Behind them stood a large gathering of commoners who stand at the foot of Visenya's Hill. If there were citizens assembling in large mass, then the High Sparrow confirmed his suspicions that his followers were utterly wiped out.
"We're trapped."
"Steady, Brother Lancel. Remain calm."
Jaime and Mace arrive at the center, leading the soldiers behind them. On the side, a smaller group of soldiers sets down a carriage—revealing Olenna Tyrell, who steps out of the carriage fanning herself. Around the corner rode in Ser Kevan and Lord Royce with their troops; Commander Duran and the City Watch approached from behind. All of them form up and turn to face the hillside.
"Company, halt! Face front! Turn!" the captains order.
The High Sparrow remained calm and composed as did Septa Unella, even as Brother Lancel and the six remaining Sparrows began to feel themselves waivering.
"Lancel! My son," Kevan hoped to reason with him. "It's over. Please. Abandon this futile crusade and come home with me to Casterly Rock. Your mother and I miss you. These Sparrows will get you killed if you stay here with them."
Lancel shook his head. "I'm already dead, father," he refused. "We of the Holy Faith abandon our family names to carry out the Gods' will. And I know what the Oathkeeper intends to do to me when we cross paths once more. I die with no regrets."
"Lancel!"
"May the Mother accept me in her warm embrace."
Kevan's face looked saddened at what he hoped would not come to pass: to see that not only was his son refusing to see reason, but that he had come to terms with the inevitability. Though he cared about Lancel, the deed was already done the moment he set foot in King's Landing—in clear violation of the terms presented to him after the trial. The High Sparrow looked down at the Kingslayer.
"Ser Jaime," he acknowledged.
"Sorry to interrupt," Jaime remarked brazenly. "Well, maybe not considering everything that's happened to us. We're here for Ser Loras Tyrell and the other members of the Most Devout. Give them to us and we'll be on our way."
"This is your last warning: return my son to me at once!" Mace shouted.
"I don't have the authority to give them to you until their trial begins," the High Sparrow replied. "And you don't have the authority to take them."
The crowd starts murmuring. Feeling his patience wearing thin, Jaime ushers his horse forward and rides it up Visenya's Hill and halts in front of the remaining Sparrows. Lord Mace turned back at his men as he saw Randyll Tarly with his spearmen surround them on all sides.
"Spears out!" Randyll ordered.
"A'oo!" the Tarly footmen grunt and point their spears towards the Sparrows.
Jaime leaned in close. "You've done well making it this far, but I'm done playing your little games. We all are. Now, this is the last time I'll be saying it. So listen closely: return Ser Loras of House Tyrell and the other Most Devout. I speak for my nephew King Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name."
"The Gods don't recognize his authority in this matter."
"You already insulted not one, not two… but three Great Houses. Not only that, but you physically assaulted the Oathkeeper himself. You know the punishment for attacking the royal family, I hope?"
"To die in the service of the Gods would please each and every one of us. We yearn for it."
*BOOM!*
The High Sparrow, Jaime and everyone gathered high atop Visenya's Hill looked at the sky to see an exploding flash of green tilting across the sky. It was bright, but the troops on the ground knew that was the signal.
"A'oo! A'oo! A'oo!" the soldiers steadily made their ascent.
"You'd be willing to spill blood on holy ground?" the High Sparrow asked daringly.
"You had your chance to leave peacefully, old man, but you unfortunately gave us no choice," Mya appeared from the crowd with Gendry, Tommen, Loras and the other Most Devout in tow behind her. "I can see why the Oathkeeper doesn't tolerate people undermining every attempt at peace when you're the ones stirring up trouble in the first place."
Mance saw his son. "Loras!" he exclaimed with relief.
"Father!" Loras turned to Mace.
The High Sparrow noticed them. "Each of them swore sacred vows before the Gods and lied. The Father judges us all. Rich or poor, noble or common. If you break His laws, you will be punished. The sacred tenants of the Faith—the 'Holy Texts', the 'Seven Pointed Star'—are to be applied to all of us equally, but betrayal and corruption runs deep in every corner. The Sparrows set out on a holy mission to purge the wicked and cleanse the impure. Ser Jaime, by dishonoring your house, you've shown yourself to be the greatest sinner of all. And you, child, you will surrender the Tyrells and the corrupt clergy into our custody. To defy us is to defy the gods."
The crowd murmured again, increasing steadily in volume.
"We will do no such thing!" shouted Gendry. "Just look around you, old man. Your followers beat people up who can't even defend themselves! Men, women and children from every corner of the world. I've seen what your people did to them at the Street of Steel."
"Everything was fine until you Sparrows showed up," Mya chimed in. "The people of this city have had good days and bad days just like everyone else, but at least they were safe. Who do you think provides it for them? You?"
Loras intervened. "Your Sparrows had the nerve to attack me in plain sight of witnesses! You drag me to your dungeon, you question me on charges I deny, you mistreat not only me but the clergy who tend to the needs of the unfortunate!"
"That's more than enough. You've made your points clear," a voice rang from the crowd.
All heads turned to see none other than Daveth—accompanied by every single Kingsguard—riding through the crows atop his white stallion. In the carriage behind him contained Catelyn, his twin children and Tyrion, all of whom remained hidden and out of sight.
"It's King Daveth!" remarked one of the citizens.
"The Oathkeeper is here!" exclaimed another.
Daveth strolled forth until he passed Mace. "You've done well, Lord Tyrell. All of you have. But it's high time we put all of this behind us now that winter has come."
"So the Oathkeeper himself pays us tribute," the High Sparrow acknowledges him. "Tell us, Your Grace. How many people have you killed to get here? Brothers of the Faith, unarmored. Helpless, defenseless. How many of the Faith had to leave this world before their time?"
Daveth stared intently at the High Sparrow, calm and in complete control. "If you wish to see more bloodshed, then you will have none of it today. Not in my city, High Sparrow. All of it stops right now."
"So you deny your sins before the Seven?"
"How about your sins? Whether it was done by your hand or any hand you command?" He countered. "There's been a lot of violence these past few years. Once you told me that the many can overthrow an empire? But have you even considered what would happen afterwards? Chaos would ensue. Now that winter has arrived, the people here will need food and warm clothes—not supposed pious upstarts harassing the unfortunate. Create chaos and anarchy, push will come to shove. Nobles and commoners alike will starve and freeze."
"Yet you purposefully hide abominations, protect sinners and bathe yourself in corruption. Still you do not understand at how much wealth and power blinds you from the truth. How woefully you believe yourself above the laws of Gods and men. The Warrior punishes those who believe themselves beyond the reach of justice. But it is not too late for you to kneel before the mercy of the Mother and repent, King Daveth."
"That is where I'm afraid you are sadly mistaken. My eyes were opened a long time ago to the harsh reality we all live in when I was very young. But clinging too tightly to the past will never allow old wounds to heal, some things we ourselves have had to learn the hard way. It's a vicious cycle we're trapped in. Every reprisal is itself an act of aggression, and every act of aggression triggers immediate reprisal. Breaking the cycle takes time, High Sparrow. Whatever wrongs that occurred in my rule, I take responsibility for the mistakes I've made so that good people wouldn't have to."
The crowd murmured even louder—causing most of the smallfolk to gather around the Young Stag in support. He glanced at his left and right, noticing how many were standing up for him and themselves. Oh how quickly the High Sparrow and Septa Unella observed how many were rallying to Daveth's side.
"As King of the Seven Kingdoms it is my solemn duty to protect the people—rich and poor, noble and commoners alike, but this goes beyond titles. What the meaning of the word 'family' means and how it applies to us all. It's not always about blood ties or noble houses, but rather it is a bond between those around you. The ones who want you in their life just as much as you want them in yours. It is that bond no one can ever take away. The North, Vale, Westerlands, Riverlands, Stormlands, Reach, Dorne… everyone living in the Seven Kingdoms is like family. And I will protect them from anyone who seeks to harm them with my life, even it's from people like you."
"A'oo! A'oo! A'oo!"
"All hail the Oathkeeper!" the crowd cheered. "Long live Daveth Baratheon!"
Daveth rode up until he stood next to his uncle. "Enough is enough, High Sparrow. Does a dream to realize a better world where there is no more conflict, no more suffering end with the Seven Kingdoms and its people worn down to nothing?" He noticed the few remaining Sparrows moving in. "It would be a poor choice to force my hand into action again."
By then, the Tarly and Royce troops were quick to intervene and apprehend the Sparrows before they even had a chance to react. Even the High Sparrow and Unella were taken aback when they roughly tackled them to the ground, though Daveth moved his hand up.
"Leave this one," he said referring to Unella. "The Most Devout will decide her fate."
"And the Sparrows, Your Grace? The High Sparrow?" asked one of the troops.
Daveth looked at the High Sparrow. "Know that I take no pleasure in doing this, but what you and your followers have done to these people under my care… cannot be forgiven. High Sparrow, I hereby sentence you and your followers to be hung by the neck until dead. Take them to the gallows."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
With that, the Tarly troops and Royce men-at-arms led the High Sparrow, Lancel and the remaining Sparrows away for execution. As for Septa Unella, she glared dagger eyes at the Young Stag as Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard cuffed her and brought her before the Most Devout members. The ruling council of the Faith of the Seven would decide what becomes of her before motioning to elect a new High Septon.
Jaime, meanwhile, was somewhat surprised at Daveth's move. To be honest, the Kingslayer was expecting violence and a pile of bodies to pile up – to see it end without further bloodshed was somewhat perplexing.
"Sometimes you have me wondering which method you prefer, nephew," he said.
The Young Stag shook his head. "Believe me, uncle, I was very tempted to crack their skulls."
"Then what stopped you?"
Daveth pointed to the carriage; by now Catelyn, Tyrion, Lyonel and Cassana all stepped out – though the twins' eyes were shielded by their grandmother. "I made a promise to my family that I'd at least try to take better care of myself. Not just my own sake, but for my children too. Still not used to having to rely on others for help, though I realize now that there are things I just can't handle on my own."
"And those things you said back there, about family, who told you that?"
"Jon Arryn," the Young Stag answered. "Yes, I know, even grandfather had wisdom to share on the art of governance and family. Both were good tutors in their own right. But did you think I listened to grandfather and Lord Arryn for 15 years and learned nothing? No, each one filled in the gaps of the other. The tricky part was applying both into practice. Now that winter is here, we'll need to look beyond the horizon. Until then, let's focus on the here and now."
Chapter End
Author's Note: A tactical strategy deployed into three phases on Daveth Baratheon's quest to take down the Sparrows. Which man in Game of Thrones do you think it closely resembled? I'll leave that up to you guys. Gendry, Mya Stone and Tommen rescued Loras Tyrell and the other Most Devout from the Sparrows' custody – all of them played a big role so how do you guys think they'll be rewarded? With the Sparrows neutralized and the public execution set, with troubles in the North and in King's Landing dealt with, how do you guys think Daveth and Sansa have been handling their responsibilities as Westeros' reigning monarchs? Thoughts? Let me know.
Tohka123: Hmm so his half siblings played quite a large role. Digging out the sparrows. Quite enjoyable keep up the hard work
Supremus85: Shouldn't the Hight Sparrow have demanded Trial by Combat?
―Chances are the High Sparrow would still deem trial by combat barbaric and would've wrestled not just independence, but judicial superiority from the crown's grip. To invoke a trial by combat would make the High Sparrow a hypocrite to say the least. Besides, only highborn nobles have the right to request a trial by combat - not smallfolk.
Oi Teme: Nice to see a Daveth chapter again and it would be interesting to see a Daenerys pov about Daveth. There better be some kind of long discussion/debate between Daveth and Daenerys and maybe with their counsel. And him putting her in her place and knock some sense into her with logical words without him being aggressive towards her because as much as I love Dany she comes off as a self entitled brat thinking the throne and the realm is rightfully hers when she has never truly been in westeros and that the nobles and people owes her something.
Shark: Awesome story. I wonder if people will catch on now that Myrcella and Tommen are incest bastards with Mya and Gendry around? And I can't wait to see Daveth and Daenerys talk. I need him to verbally own her
birdy: wow what a great read i cant wait for the next chapter
Chosen-One-92: Well that tidies everything up regarding the sparrows and avoids the explosion of the sept. So the North and South are both safe and stable, Dorne is in the fold and the Iron Islands are decimated. I'm curious what you'll do with Yara now she has no fleet to offer Dany, but she could offer herself as a commander I suppose. All that's left is for Daveth to make some measure of peace with the wildlings and work with Robb to settle them, I suppose. I expect you plan to legitimize Roberts bastards and put them to use in the Stormlands and possibly have Tommen in charge or either Storms End or Casterly Rock since he's pure inbred Lannister anyway. Will be interesting to see.
RHatch89: Great update :)
C.E.W: Daveth Baratheon has crushed the Sparrows, and has once again proven himself a champion of the common people. Daveth is truly a highly talented and charismatic ruler of his people, the best prosperous ruler the realm has had since Jaehaerys the Conciliator. Sansa will be returning soon now that the Boltons have been dealt with, even though no sign of Arya. Varys values the common people, and will perhaps be very loyal to Daveth.
However, the peace will not last as Daenerys will soon invade Westeros. She'll be Daveth's... greatest rival for the Iron Throne.
And of course there is the White Walkers which I suspect is going to be a very costly battle.
Bio RL: I hope you do not start legitimizing bastards
Hear My Fury: Looks like Daveth and Sansa are doing a great job as king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They've been putting down rebellion after rebellion down. This will definitely help when Dany comes and they can say she's a foreign invader. I keep saying it, she needs to stay where she is. Maybe build a new Valyria?
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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 119: What Comes After
At Winterfell…
There have been tensions been high: those who fought for Ramsay Snow and survived the Battle for the North were being held on trial by the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. With House Bolton extinct, the Dreadfort razed to the ground, punishment had to be meted out. Lord Ludd Whitehill of Highpoint along with his two sons Torrhen and Gryff were killed in battle fighting the Starks at the hands of Lord Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath. Among the enemies slain were Rickard Karstark and Smalljon Umber, leaving their children Alys and Ned; all three were standing before Robb Stark and Sansa Stark.
"The Karstarks, Whitehills and my traitorous bastard boy all betrayed the North!" the Greatjon Umber bellowed. "Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."
"The castles committed no crimes, Lord Umber," Sansa countered. "But in the wars to come we'll need every fortress we have to stand against it." She turns to her brother. "Robb, we should give Karhold and Highpoint to new families – loyal families who supported us against Ramsay."
The hall likes this idea by the sound of it.
"Lord Stark, Your Grace," Gwyn spoke up, "whatever my father and brothers have done – the rest of House Whitehill had no part in his treachery. I beg you to reconsider—"
"But do you think that's fair?" Theon interjected. "Is it wrong for the sons and daughters to be punished for their father's crimes when they themselves had nothing to do with it?"
"Theon," Robb noticed.
"When my father was killed… when the Iron Islands were destroyed and my family almost wiped out, I vaguely recall you and Sansa both standing up for me when King Daveth clearly wanted to destroy House Greyjoy root and stem. I'm not a Stark or a Northmen like the rest of you, I know that. But your father raised me to be an honorable man. And let me be the first to say that what you're thinking would be a big mistake in the long-term. I don't know much about the Whitehills, but the Umbers and Karstarks have fought beside House Stark for hundreds of years. They've kept faith for generations—"
Then interruption and arguments are sent flying.
"And they broke faith," Lyanna Mormont interjected rather loudly.
"What do you know?! You're a bloody ironborn!" shouted Lord Manderly.
"So you'd propose no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?" Rodrik implored. "Lord Stark, Rickard Karstark and his sons Torrhen and Harrion both died fighting for you in the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, but Harold died fighting for Ramsay as did Smalljon Umber! Reward those whose men died fighting for you!"
"Strip them of their lands and titles and fortunes and give them to someone worthy of—" Lord Glover concurred before being interrupted.
"Hey!" the Greatjon glared down at the child. "My son's already shown himself a turncloak and he paid for his treasons, but my grandson is an innocent lad!"
"How do we know he or that Karstark bitch won't end up like their fathers?!"
A loud groundswell of support and heated words goes up in the hall in response. Lucius, Brienne, Stannis and Davos glance at each respective Stark. They were waiting for Sansa and Robb to each make a move, though the Wolf Queen felt faint and looked pale. The Young Wolf noticed his sister massaging her belly and asked if she was sick. When she replied no, Jon decided this was the time to intervene.
"Robb," he spoke up, "when I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I executed men who betrayed me. I executed men who refused to follow orders. Our father always said the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and I've tried to live by those words every day since my stay at Castle Black." He glanced at Theon. "But Theon is right. You must not punish a son for his father's sins, nor should you take a family home away from a family it's belonged to for centuries."
"Jon—"
He turned towards Sansa. "Think back at how Daveth wanted Theon dead. He wanted the whole Greyjoy bloodline dead. We all heard of the incident that occurred that day at Lannisport many years ago – but those who've committed that crime are long gone. Show them mercy and they won't break faith ever again."
Sansa looked at Jon, Theon, Gwyn, Alys and Ned. She felt sick to her stomach, tired and breathed a sigh of frustration. Damn these hormones and random mood swings.
"Do what you will," the Wolf Queen brushed off.
Robb sat in judgment. Rubbing his stubble and petting Grey Wind, he sighed begrudgingly and stood up. "Ned Umber," he calls out.
Young Ned Umber, the Greatjon's 9-year-old grandson, rises timidly from his seat and into view. He is very much a child, and a frightened one at that – only reassured that everything will be all right from his lord grandfather.
"Alys Karstark," the Young Wolf continued.
The daughter of Lord Harrold likewise reveals herself in the crowd. She is 15, six years older than Ned, but still little more than a child as both approach Robb visibly afraid at the possibility they might be executed. Robb gestures for them to come towards him, whom they oblige haltingly—painfully conscious of the judging eyes upon them. Gwyn and Alys do their best to hold their heads up high.
"Each of your fathers committed grave crimes against House Stark," the Young Wolf begun, "what they have done is unforgiveable. As fellow Northmen, you yourselves know this. However, none of us here actually knows whether or not any of you were involved in any way. What Lord Theon suggests might be better than what others would offer if this took place somewhere else."
Gwyn, Ned and Alys kneel and stare up at him.
"But until then, I'll ask you only one time to pledge your loyalty to House Stark. To serve as our bannermen, and come to our aid whenever called upon. Now that winter is here, the North needs to band together to survive. The entire North. Will you stand behind me Gwyn, Ned and Alys, now and always?"
"Now and always," all three vowed in unison.
The bannermen fill the hall with their applause and appreciation, stirred by Jon's speech and by the sight of these young heirs swearing renewed fealty to their liege lord. Sansa does not join in and excuses herself. Only Brienne, Lucius and Pod follow close behind her.
—5 hours later—
Robb and Jon sit at the high table with representatives from Northern houses, the wildlings and Stannis Baratheon's host sitting amongst each other in the dining hall. The bastard and traitor Ramsay Snow was defeated and House Bolton utterly wiped out—root and stem. Olyvar was permitted to give his niece Walda and her infant son a proper burial, though both were so terribly mauled beyond recognition he had a hard time keeping his composure let alone trying not to vomit. Not even prayers to the Old Gods of the Forest or the Faith of the Seven could ever bring them back to life.
Besides the Starks, Theon sat next to Jeyne—providing whatever emotional comfort and support he could muster. She was still shaken by what happened to her at Ramsay's hands, and it'll take time for Jeyne to recover.
"The Northerners, the wildlings and Lord Stannis' army each played a vital in ending the villainy of the bastard Ramsay Snow," the Young Wolf stood up. "We all fought bravely together and we won since the days of the First Men, resisting every known threat to the North just as we had resisted against the Andal invaders thousands of years before."
"Hear, hear," Cley Cerwyn proclaimed. "Now that the Boltons are gone, the war is over. And now that winter has come, we should ride home and wait out the coming storms. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in 1,000 years if not the longest ever."
Jon shook his head and stood up. "The war is not over," he frowned.
All eyes turned to Jon Snow's objections; even Robb, Sansa and Rickon looked at their half-brother with quite a surprised look on their faces.
"Jon—"
"And I promise you, my lords and ladies, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm."
The men begin to murmur amongst themselves. What could this baseborn lad be talking about? What nonsense was he uttering? What enemy? Are they going to be under siege again? No matter, Northern valor would prevail once more as they've demonstrated at the Dreadfort. The whispers continued until Lyanna Mormont, Dacey's youngest sister, stood up.
"I understand my sisters and I are responsible for Bear Island and all who live there," she said heatedly. "So why should we sacrifice more Mormont life for another war that may or may not happen?"
Jon fell silent, but Davos stepped forward.
"If it please, my lady, I understand how you feel," the Onion Knight said.
Lyanna turned towards him. "I don't know you, Ser…?"
"Davos, my lady, of House Seaworth."
The younger Mormont turns to Maester Luwin, but Davos reassures her.
"King Daveth once asked me that very same question many years ago, my lady. You don't need to ask a maester about my house. It's rather new."
Dacey eyed him closely. "All right then, Ser Davos of House Seaworth. How is it you understand how we feel? You and Lord Stannis are not of the North."
"No, no we're not," Davos noted. "I was a crabber's son, then I was a smuggler. And now I found myself addressing a gathering of lords and ladies of great houses. But I stand here with Lord Stannis because this is no longer a war between a few squabbling houses."
"Clarify."
"Go on, Ser Davos," Lyanna said doubtfully.
Davos turns to Jon. "Your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont, made that young man his steward. He chose Jon to be his successor because he knew he had the courage to do what was right—making peace between the Night's Watch and the wildlings, even if it meant giving his life. Because Jeor Mormont and Jon Snow both understood that the real war is between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming."
"What a bogus claim!" exclaimed a Northern lord.
"Where's your proof?"
"The White Walkers have been gone for over 8,000 years!"
Robb slammed his fist on the table. "Quiet, my lords!" he hollered.
The room got quite when Grey Wind snarled. Dacey, meanwhile, raised her six-foot tall body from the bench and looked at Jon Snow. The bastard noticed she was beckoning him towards her, so he complied. Once Jon was close to Dacey, he loosens the belt holding his sword and presents it to her.
"This is…" Dacey recognized it.
"Longclaw," Jon nodded. "Your uncle gave me this sword. He changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf, but it's still Longclaw." He hands it to Dacey. "It's been in your family for five centuries. It's not right for me to have it."
The Lady of Bear Island held Longclaw in her hands and looks it over. "I remember uncle Jeor. My mother and sisters all called him 'Old Bear,' as did everyone else on Bear Island. Not because of his age, oh how he hated that, but how uncle Jeor was fiercely protective and a lovingly loyal man to us before abdicating to join the Night's Watch. He embodied House Mormont's qualities of strength, honor and fearlessness. Nurturing and warm," She looked at Jon. "How did he die?"
"Rast and Karl Tanner turned on him at Craster's Keep, just beyond the Wall during the Great Ranging. Shoved their knives in his back," he answered. "Before the Battle of Castle Black, I led a team of rangers to avenge him."
Dacey looked at Jon, listening closely to his words. "Good," she said viciously. "And these… things Ser Davos mentioned earlier, you said you've seen them?"
Jon nods. "Your uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost, my lady. As united as the North stood against Ramsay, it alone might not be enough when the Night King does come. We can't reason with him, we can't parley with him… He is death itself."
Dacey pauses, pulling Longclaw halfway out of the sheath and inspecting the blade closely. After a few moments, she put it back in its sheath and handed the Valyrian steel sword back to Jon.
"My lady?" he asked confused.
"Our uncle chose to pass down Longclaw to a successor worthy of inheritance," she insisted. "Take it with you as a token of friendship between the Mormonts and Starks. May it serve you well and your children after you, Jon Snow… the White Wolf."
Jon accepted Longclaw back in his possession. Dacey looked at him and Robb, nodding her head in approval—giving them her consent for House Stark to retain the use of her family's ancestral weapon. The Young Wolf looked around to see Sansa no longer present in the great hall.
"Jon? Where's our sister?"
In the Godswood…
Sansa stood before Winterfell's weirwood tree, looking up at it as if lost deep in thought. She closed her eyes and steadily inhaled and exhaled. Gods, it had been more than five years since the Wolf Queen was last here in the godswood. Reaching her hand outwards, Sansa gently brushed her hand along the great oak. The godswood was covered in snow, but the weirwood tree still retained its dark red leaves and a long melancholy face carved in the bone white bark, its deep-cut eyes still dried red with sap. The silence was broken when Sansa's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the snow.
"There's no need for you to check on me by sneaking on me like that, Ariyana. I know it's you," she called out calm and composed.
Ariyana stopped moving. "Forgive me, Your Grace… if you're at prayer."
Sansa shook her head. "No, that's all right. I was… reminiscing."
"About what?"
"I used to come here in the godswood every day when I was a girl. I prayed to be somewhere else. Knowing what I know now, I only thought about what I wanted – never considering what I actually needed. But I suppose everything worked out in the end. A husband, two beautiful children… Life works in mysterious ways," Sansa turned to face Ariyana. "You, on the other hand, continue to elude me. My husband and I entrusted you with our protection as a Kingsguard, Ariyana, and yet you spied on us. Sent secrets to people in Dorne we didn't know until the negotiations took place. But not long after the Battle for the North, I've learned from Ser Olyvar and Ser Lucius that you yourself played a role in aiding my brother. Why come before me now?"
The Sword of the Morning knew she was being put on the spot. "I understand that one act might not be enough to regain your trust or faith in me, Your Grace. It pains me, but since that day I vowed to make amends to you and your family… even if it's one step at a time, a Kingsguard keeps their oaths—and a select few of our male counterparts who actually abide by the chivalrous knight's code of honor." Ariyana exhaled steadily. "It's true Prince Doran asked me to observe you, but after all time I spent with you—you basically treated me like family. I began to slowly realize what kind of people you really were. I wanted to tell you the truth, but… I lost my nerve. I didn't want to choose between the two of you: Dorne or the Crown. I made a choice, Your Grace, and now I have to live with it for the rest of my life. I don't expect your mercy or forgiveness, and will accept any punishment you deem fitting."
Sansa watched with surprise as Ariyana actually fell to her knees and lowered her head down before placing Dawn at her feet—throwing herself completely at her mercy. The Wolf Queen still had not forgotten nor forgiven one of her own sworn shields for that debacle, but if time has taught her anything – it's to not continue holding any grudges lest it would destroy you from the inside; as it had with Robert Baratheon with the Targaryens that it literally took only dying on his deathbed to finally let go. Her husband Daveth nearly went down a similar path as well, only diverting from its course after the Second Greyjoy Rebellion was put down. Sansa was faced with making a decision she couldn't put off any longer.
"Stand up, Ariyana. Get up off your knees," she beckoned.
"Your Grace?" Ariyana lifted her head up, half in confusion and half with surprise.
"Although I cannot forget what you did, continuing to anchor yourself with guilt will never allow any real progress to be made. Trust is difficult to rebuild, Ariyana… but you fought for my brother and saved Ser Lucius's life out there. So I'm willing to give you at least another chance for that."
"Your Grace, I… this is unexpected," the Sword of the Morning nearly stammered. "King Daveth would never afford me the same forgiveness. If you will permit me to remain as your Kingsguard, my dedication to the Iron Throne will never come into question again."
"If you have any concerns, just tell us. Do not go behind our backs again."
"There will be no next time, Your Grace. I swear."
Sansa returned Dawn to Ariyana—who accepted it back with a sense of relief. Out of the corner of the Wolf Queen's eye, she noticed another group making their way to her.
"So this is where you were. Lord Stark was looking for you," Lucius acknowledged. "I take it Ariyana's… told you everything?"
"She has, Ser Lucius," Sansa confirmed.
"Why were you not at the great hall? Is everything all right?" Brienne asked.
"No, Brienne. I just—" she noticed Jeyne steadily approaching. "Jeyne?"
The two childhood friends moved to embrace each other.
"What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be in bed recuperating."
Jeyne looked lost in thought. "I… I tried, but… I-I can still feel w-what Ramsay did to my body. Even standing here right now, I can feel it. Everything."
Sansa shook her head. "Don't even think of such things. You're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore."
"I-I know, Sansa. And I'm grateful to you, Robb and Theon for all you've done for me. It's just… my father is gone. He-he's dead."
"I'm so sorry."
Jeyne hugged Sansa again. "I… thank you. What happens from here on now? I don't know what else to do. Where am I supposed to go?"
The Wolf Queen simply held her best friend. Jeyne was a cherished childhood companion who was like a sister to her. Her father and Winterfell's steward, Vayon Poole, was murdered by Ramsay. Sansa thought about it long and hard until she had an idea.
"Jeyne, would you like to come live with me?" she asked.
She looked at her. "Y-you want me to… to l-live with you? Down south at King's Landing? Oh Sansa, do you think I can?"
"I believe so, yes. You're like a sister to me, Jeyne. My son and daughter would adore you. So long as you're with me if you choose to do so, no one will ever come for you again. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."
"Your Grace—" Olyvar tried to interject but was quickly silenced when Sansa shot him a cold death glare.
Jeyne sniffled. "*sniff!* Then… can I pack my belongings?" she asked.
Sansa nodded. "Of course you can." She pulled her to the side. "Actually, before you do so, I have something to tell you. All of you."
"What's that?" asked Brienne.
"Do you remember why I asked to see Maester Luwin once we arrived at Winterfell?"
"Yes. That was several weeks ago," Lucius nodded. "Did you find out what was wrong?"
"I wouldn't say 'wrong', Ser Lucius."
"Then it was a good one?"
"Mhmm. Everyone, I'm pleased to announce that I am pregnant with my third child."
Brienne, Lucius, Olyvar, Ariyana, Pod and Jeyne all stared blankly before realization set in. One by one, each of them applauded and congratulated her upon hearing such news.
"This is incredible, Your Grace! How far along are you?" Lucius asked.
"I'm 2 months."
"Congratulations, Your Grace," said Brienne.
"Indeed, congratulations," said Ariyana.
"Can I feel?" asked Jeyne politely.
Sansa smiled and nodded and allowed Jeyne to place a small, delicate hand on her best friend's stomach—now starting to grow in size. Even now Sansa's lower back, feet and breasts were aching from the second pregnancy. But with the war for the North over, Sansa allowed herself a moment's peace with her friends before leaving Winterfell for King's Landing tomorrow morning.
"Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?" asked Brienne.
Sansa rolled her eyes. "I don't know."
"Maybe another set of twins?" joked Olyvar.
The thought made the Wolf Queen shudder. "Oh by the Gods, I certainly hope not!"
Chapter End
Author's Note: Dealing with the aftermath in the North might cause several mixed reactions as how Robb Stark could've possibly handled the remaining descendants of those who fought for Ramsay, but Theon and Jon both stood up for them—one in particularly mentioned a similar solution he himself was once in. Dacey Mormont declines to take back Longclaw and instead passes it on to Jon Snow and Ariyana Dayne is forgiven by Sansa, though it'll take time for trust levels to be properly restored. Also, Jeyne has been invited to live with Sansa in King's Landing. Think the twins Lyonel and Cassana will like her? Thoughts? Let me know.
DarkFireCat5241999: Funny thing that they don't bring that logic with daveth for parents sins or grand parents we all know what baratheon and lannisters are capable of
Ayman El Kadouri: Moreeee twins hahahahahah
Aries90: I have to say this its an amazing story you have written here just changing one thing makes things interesting . Yes there are deaths not as many deaths as there where , Ned still died but lived longer , Cersei and LF get caught and die , Ramsay is killed in slightly more quick fashion The Mountin is killed by Obren Jon Kills Joffrey for disobidence (Ironic how he dies in this ). But than other characters have better lives , Sansa doesn't get passed on to psycho to psycho , Robb and Caitlyn live along with Robbs wife Orben lives Shae is she still alive?. But I am curious though I think Dany and Daveth should unite to take on the knight king since you know in this time line the seven kingdoms are actually seven kingdoms in this finally or something else but I would like to see more .
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
birdy: this was a great read i cant wait for the next chapter
Bio RL: Sansa if you want has the power to enter a real guard? is supposed to be only a queen consort, the power falls only on the king (I hope you do not start with what the 2 govern) is a medieval age just do not work things like that. I would like Daveth to return to dorne, lately this Forgiving everyone.
10868letsgo: It's true that if you don't forgive the children of your enemy. It will control you for life. That's why Robert never forgave Rheagar or the Mad King because of what had happen to Lyanna. Look at the Stage King now, he married a bitter incest woman, a drinker and whoring around. Lyonel and Cassana would be wary at first, but children will take a liking on someone they had never met before. Can't wait to read more of this story.
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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 120: A Storm is Brewing
At King's Landing…
Daveth spent the following days in solitude—having executed the High Sparrow, Lancel and the remaining Sparrows left in the capital city, the Young Stag spent much of his time reviewing documents, petitions… and of course, planning for a moment's respite with his wife upon her eventual return. They'd been preparing for their anniversary for quite some time if it weren't unplanned events from occurring. Bodrin had been assisting as the King's scribe to lessen the burden, though Tyrion—Daveth's uncle and Hand of the King—often stopped by to pick up the stamped documents.
Nearby, Lyonel and Cassana were busy playing with their toys—wooden knights, blocks and dolls. Catelyn babysat them while her son-in-law occasionally shot a glance over to his right to check up on them.
"The shipment you've requested has arrived, Your Grace," said Bodrin, breaking the Young Stag's concentration.
Daveth slid another stamped document to the side. "I trust the contents inside were not damaged in anyway?" he asked.
"Not that we know of. The people of the Reach exercise delicate care and tenderness when it comes to gardening."
"I see. Put it over there on the counter."
"What did you buy from the Reach?" asked Catelyn.
"I promised Sansa we'd have a proper anniversary before all this mess started."
Bodrin and Shae both brought in the ordered goods into the room and placed it down on the counter next to Daveth's personal desk. All were placed in a fancy decorative glass vase etched with vines – its content including a mixture of red roses, yellow daisies, white lilies and lilacs and purple hydrangeas. Next to it was a crown of winter roses, blue with frost; almost similar to the Queen of Love and Beauty crown the Young Stag had given to his wife when he won the joust at the Tourney of the Hand years earlier.
"There's also this," Bodrin presented a shiny crown; freshly forged by the looks of it.
Daveth examined the metalwork closely. Hammered, polished and sparkling when exposed to sunlight, the design closely resembled the ancient crown of the Kings in the North with some minor adjustments: the metal bodice featured a row of nine steel grey iron spikes shaped like longswords with ruby gemstones around the side of the open circlet, the center-front featured two howling scaly direwolves incised with runes of the First Men. Studded antlers of House Baratheon also protruded around the crown – depicting the Stark Queen's marriage ties to the royal family.
"I hope she likes this," Daveth quietly hoped.
Catelyn noticed. "Sansa's changed you this much, hasn't she? How uncharacteristically soft of you," she teased in a motherly tone.
The Young Stag's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Wha…? Hey! I am NOT soft!" he said defensively.
Lyonel and Cassana giggled at their father's apprehensiveness.
"Forgive me, Your Grace," Shae interrupted, "but there's also this." She handed the Young Stag a letter, sealed in gray wax – which remained unbroken.
"What is it?"
"It's a message from your wife. A raven flew in just this morning."
Daveth cracked the seal and read.
"My dearest King,
I write to inform you that the traitor Ramsay Snow had attempted to
usurp power in the North, having murdered his father Lord Roose
Bolton along with both his wife Lady Walda and their trueborn son.
Our ravens dispatched to White Harbor that had gone unanswered for
quite some time was a consequence on Ramsay's part to prevent
anyone from discovering his plans – one we learned upon our arrival
and further explained the situation to Lord Manderly.
What came next during our travels to my home at Winterfell was rather
disturbing: along the kingsroad we discovered Theon and my friend
Jeyne Poole being pursued by Bolton soldiers, presumably having been
dispatched by Ramsay himself. As it turns out, the 'Arya Stark' rumor
had proven nothing but a deceitful lie. Because of the vile nature and
horrors inflicted upon my homeland and its people, I cannot in good
conscience describe what has happened via raven for concerns that
the message might be intercepted.
I am sorry. I'll explain more once we return to King's Landing soon,
I promise.
The Winter's Voyage should be arriving at the port within three weeks,
two should the crew have the wind blowing into our sails. Until then,
take good care of the children and yourself. I know you'll only shake
your head and roll your eyes, but by the Old Gods and the New you
can be so stubborn sometimes."
As predicted, Daveth did indeed roll his eyes sarcastically and shook his head. When he resumed reading the letter, one note in particular caught his attention.
"…dreadful words and constant reminders aside, I do have good news
I would like to share with you. As your wife, it is my duty to inform you
that I am again carrying your little prince or princess inside me.
Maester Luwin examined me and informed that I am currently two
months along into my pregnancy, nearing the third.
Perhaps we can rest easy once Lyonel and Cassana learn they will
soon have a little brother or a sister to play with? Silly notion, I know.
Be well and safe, love – you and the children are always in my thoughts.
Forever yours,
Sansa"
Daveth reexamined that last bit over and over again with realization setting in. "Cat," he broke the silence, "it's… a message from Sansa."
"What does it say?" she asks.
"She… she's pregnant again."
Catelyn smiled. "Congratulations, Daveth."
"Thank you." He turned to his son and daughter. "Lyonel, Cassana," he called them.
Both twins stood from playing with their toys and waddled over.
"Daddy?" Lyonel piped curiously.
The Young Stag knelt down to meet them at eye-level. "Kids, your mother is on her way home now. How would you two like to draw something nice for her?"
"Mommy come home?" they asked excitedly.
Daveth nodded.
"Yay!"
"Yes, yes, I know. Now go get some paper and your crayons and draw something nice for your mother."
With that, the 2-year-olds Lyonel and Cassana hurriedly scoured across the room gathering what seems to be a mountain of paper and picked up their scattered crayons on the floor before getting to work scribbling and doodling. Daveth and Catelyn sat down beside the twins to observe what they were drawing: Lyonel was attempting to sketch a portrayal of what seemed to be a mounted knight riding a horse or on the back of a giant direwolf; Cassana, meanwhile, tried her hand at depicting an open pasture, a land cultivated with grass near a river with a bright rainbow shining from above.
Although they were relatively new with artwork, Catelyn praised her grandchildren's pictures—Daveth remained on the sidelines… watching them from afar. Despite their being a sense of peace and tranquility throughout the land, the Young Stag couldn't help but suspect that something might come around to disrupt it once more—and House Baratheon must always be ready to rise to the occasion when trouble comes.
"Wook, daddy! Wook!" Cassana held up her picture.
"Me too, daddy!" Lyonel showed his.
Daveth redirected his attention. "That's very nice, children. Put them on the counter over there so your mother can see it, and don't forget to clean up after yourselves."
"Okie!"
Both Daveth and Catelyn watched the twins picking up their sketches and placed them on the counter next to the other gifts. Once done they moved to pick up their crayons and toys which remained scattered across the floor. The Young Stag felt fortunate that his mother-in-law was helping him handle two hyperactive twins else he would've gone insane.
*KNOCK!*
*KNOCK!*
"Come in," called out Daveth.
The door to the room opened, revealing Tommen. "Brother," he acknowledged.
"Ah, Tommen. I didn't recall sending for you."
"You didn't. I was… actually hoping to ask a favor of you."
Daveth was now curious as to why Tommen would approach him like this; but then again, considering recent events, the Young Stag had his share of suspicions of what it is that the Young Cub might ask him.
"Lyonel, Cassana… be good to your grandmother. Your father needs to have a word with your uncle."
"Okie!" they replied, plainly uninterested and focused on drawing more pictures for their mother when she does return.
Daveth and Tommen stepped outside the room, closing the door behind them. Once they were alone, the elder Baratheon had a serious facial expression.
"All right, Tommen. What is this about?" he pressed.
"I know it sounds sudden, but I need to ask a favor from you."
"That depends. What would that be?"
"Train me. Teach me how to be a knight, brother."
Daveth blinked briefly before he brushed back a black bang that had fallen across his forehead. "Train you," he repeated the question. "Let me see if I'm hearing you correctly. You come to my chambers and… request that I personally take you under my wing and supervise your training—sword and lance? Do you actually know of what it is you're really inquiring?"
Tommen broke eye contact a bit before bolstering his confidence. "Margaery says that a member of the royal family has to know how to defend themselves when our loved ones are threatened. I mean, how can a man protect his family if he can't even make the effort?"
'Of course she would put such ideas in his head,' the Young Stag thought. "But why come to me? Why not ask Ser Loras or uncle Jaime?"
"Loras just got married last week and couldn't be bothered. As for uncle Jaime, well… Daveth, you're my brother. We've all had to watch you be forced to fight a lot of battles alone. I want to help."
"Wanting to learn how to be a knight isn't the same as what you hear from the old tales. Honorable as knighthood might be, it tends to be misused or makes unready young boys meet an early grave."
"But I can help. I'm tired of being gullible, always sitting on the sidelines while you've had to carry the burden on your shoulders every single day. I mean, you started as a squire and you turned out fine."
"I was 9 when I first started and it wasn't by choice, Tommen. You are 16. This isn't all fun and games," he lowered his voice to a heated whisper so as to not be overheard. "It takes years for squires to become knights. That's not a lot of time to make any serious progress when Daenerys Targaryen is in the middle of amassing her armies and all three of her dragons."
"I know, brother. I know. That's why I came to ask you. It was my choice to make."
Daveth groaned and shook his head. Gods have mercy, his youngest brother was not relenting when it comes to this. Yet even then there was some truth as to what Tommen was saying; not implying just his own brother, but also himself. In a way, Tommen hated feeling powerless and only stepped up to the plate because he wanted to help. Should it continue to persist, no doubt many would use Tommen for their own gains; being shielded from all the wrongs would not give him the life lessons he should have. As the oldest of the siblings, Daveth had long knowing that eventually there'd come a time where every one of them would have to start their own lives.
But that time had already come to pass.
"If you're certain about this…"
"I am sure. I know what I want, and I want you to train me. Show me how to fight so I can protect my wife like you've done for all of us."
Daveth sighed. "Fine," he conceded. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear: if we do this, you'd best be committed. I want to hear no whining or complaining on your part. I do not accept excuses nor will I tolerate laziness. We do this, we go all the way—nothing half-assed. Understand?"
Tommen looked close to confident, hiding his shuffling feet beneath him. "Thank you, brother. You won't regret it."
'You say that now, but sooner or later you'll end up regretting what you said.'
"Oh, and can I have a kitten in the meantime? I-it's for Margaery, I mean."
"No. Now run along to your chambers. We start first thing in the morning."
Tommen nods understandingly and turns around to walk towards his room. No doubt Margaery awaits him there, though the Young Stag remains aware of House Tyrell's current standing ever since the rescue of Lord Mace's son and heir Loras from Sparrow custody. The Knight of the Flowers had been slowly recovering, but his mind will no doubt take longer to heal considering what he's been forced to endure. The wedding between Loras and Ser Kevan's daughter Janei would take place next week, though Daveth planned to distance himself considering he had ordered his own second cousin Lancel be put to death along with the High Sparrow.
Should he attend the wedding ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor, there'd no doubt be a sense of discomfort and somewhat of a social awkwardness with his great-uncle and other second cousins Willem and Martyn Lannister. Daveth shook his head wearily as he looked out the window and noticed a dense, vertical cumulonimbus clouds developing in the distance. Within a few hours they'd be moving further in towards the mainland—hinting that a storm was brewing and would soon hit them.
Even from the Red Keep, Daveth could feel the temperature and smell the moisture in the air shifting and changing. "And so nature demonstrates another example of mad Westerosi weather. The elements full of sound and fury, unpredictable and in some cases dangerous," he contemplated. Yet that didn't stop his left hand from trembling slightly. 'And yet… why do I suddenly feel uneasy?'
Somewhere on the Iron Islands…
Heavy rain pours down on the ruined landscape of the decimated Iron Islands; thunder booms loudly and lightning bolts shoot across the stormy skies. It's been more than three years since the end of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, yet the scars and devastation remained. Where the group of seven small rocky islands located far off the western coast of Westeros with stone castles, steep hills and shipyards were reduced to piles of rubble and ruin, crushed yet charred skeletal remains and the landscape rendered a barren wastelands—uninhabitable and devoid of both life and plundered resources.
Waves violently crashed against the Iron Islands, battering the archipelago. But anchored not too far from the mainland of Pyke were at least a few ships consisting of about 61-93 ships—one in particular bore the standard House Greyjoy heraldry of a kraken on a black field, but the kraken was silver instead of gold with a third red eye inscribed onto its head. Several small rowboats docked along the shore, tied to wooden stakes used originally at Lordsport until its destruction.
Several cloaked figures walked upon the barren wasteland, stepping on and sometimes crushing charred bones along the way—taking in the sight that the Iron Islands, once poor soil and hardly any natural resources and few poor crop fields, now had literally nothing of value.
His face covered by the hood, the figure grinned wickedly. "Hehehe. Well, well, looks like we missed one hell of a fight, boys," he almost chuckled frighteningly, amusedly looking around as he removed his hood—revealing his identity as Euron Greyjoy.
A wildly unpredictable and cruel man even among the ironborn, Euron was perhaps widely regarded as the most feared pirate alive. Unlike many ironborn, he is a cunning strategist and the mastermind responsible for orchestrating the surprise raid on Lannisport during the First Greyjoy Rebellion. Although his brother Victarion commanded the Iron Fleet, it was Euron who came up with the plan.
His crew was terrified of their captain. "By the Drowned God, there's nothing left…" one of the sailors bemoaned.
"Eh, the place was getting crowded anyways."
"But… but our home—"
"—we'll be getting a new one. A better one," Euron shot back undeterred. "What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. That's the custom every ironborn abides by. From Ib to Asshai, from Oldtown to Qarth, when men see my sails… they pray. Or has my brother Balon changed that while I've been gone?"
The wind buffets back and forth. Some of his own crew could not reply; though they had dried blood staining their lips—indicating that their tongues were cut out; a crew of mutes. Despite the winds being strong and some tried to hold their balance, Euron chuckled as he remained perfectly still—his posture remained unmoved by the force of nature.
"Oh that's right, I needed silence. When you're crew of my ship the Silence, that's all I expect from you: silence. Search the area for anything of value."
While his crew scoured the ruined Iron Islands, Euron had a deep sense of nostalgia sweep over him. 'Drowned God, you say? Aeron would've been on another rant about false gods by now. But who knows more of gods than I, eh, Aeron? I am the Drowned God. Golden idols, the trees… I spill their blood upon the sea and sow their screaming women with my seed. Their little gods couldn't stop me then, they won't stop me now. Perhaps the mainlanders are the ones who ought to kneel before me for blessing.'
One of the sailors from the other longships ran over. "Captain, we found something."
Euron looked back to see one holding a driftwood crown and another picking up a broken studded stag antler. There was another rumble of thunder, perhaps even the loudest as several lightning bolts lit up the skies. Euron's face was revealed fully, his grin to be a maniac's smile.
"Ah, so he came back did he? Hehehe, oh how the boy's grown since we last saw him."
"Captain?"
"Why the same frightened little cub we took from Lannisport fourteen years ago, boys. Daveth Baratheon. The same one who destroyed our home," his face grew terrifyingly serene. "He thinks his rage builds a mighty storm, but still he doesn't understand I am the storm. The first storm and the last."
The crew—whatever ironborn remained and mutes—all gestured to one another in fury and rage, most demanding blood and vengeance for the home they lost. Euron retained a vicious grin and took the driftwood crown from one of his underlings.
"Listen up!" his voice bellowed with the thunderclaps, directing his crew's attention to focus on him. "I'm Euron Greyjoy. From this day forward, I claim the Salt Throne. But do you know why? My brothers got what they deserved. No one loved them. No one wanted to follow them. Balon was leading our people nowhere and we would still be heading there if our golden opportunity hadn't been presented itself to us. But Balon was the main cause of it all. He led us into two wars we couldn't win. I've been all over the world. I've seen more of it than every ironborn combined. And across the sea there is a person who hates the great lords of Westeros and the Oathkeeper who rules them just as much as we do. Someone with a large army, three large dragons and no husband. I'm going to demonstrate the superiority of our naval forces to Daenerys Targaryen along with my big cock."
The ironborn laugh.
"Sure, we've lost our home, our livelihood and everything that makes us strong. But I see something greater. We're going to take the Seven Kingdoms. I wasn't born to be King. I paid the iron price and here I stand."
*APPLAUSE!*
At the beach, several ironborn carry flags to the stormy shores while they watch Euron kneeling in water. One of the four remaining Drowned Men from Euron's ships stood beside him and pushes him under the stormy waves.
"May Euron, your servant, be born again from the seas as you were," the Drowned Man prayed. "Bless him with salt. Bless him with stone. Bless him with steel. Listen to the waves. Listen to the god. He is speaking to us and He says we shall have no King but Euron Greyjoy. Let the sea wash your follies and your vanities away. Let the old Euron drown. Let his lungs fill with seawater. Let the fish eat the scales off his eyes."
"What is dead may never die," chanted the remaining ironborn.
"What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger," the Damphair recited.
Underwater, Euron did not struggle at first but soon started thrashing a bit and gradually a lot more before his movements ceased—causing the Drowned Man to release his grip. He thrashed and panicked no more when the final air bubbles came out; the remaining ironborn dragged the drowned Euron back to shore and gathered in attendance around him—thunder booming and lightning bolts lighting up the sky. As one man pressed on his stomach and chest, Euron did not move. Before one could walk close enough, Euron gags and coughs.
"*kaff!* *kaff!* *hack!* *blurgh!*" he propped himself up on his arms and legs, spitting up water and gasping for air. Euron allowed himself to breathe once more as he felt his men place the crown made of driftwood on his head.
"What is dead may never die!" they cheered.
Euron rose to his feet and looks around at the crowd. "The Young Stag will be absolutely surprised to see me again; I'm actually looking forward to seeing the look on his face once word spreads. Go back to your homes! Gather whatever resource we have left, something Daveth Baratheon might've missed. Reinforce our ships and I will give you this world!"
Chapter End
Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry I wasn't able to update as quickly as you'd like – I've been feeling rather sick for a few days but I'm a bit better now. With the Sparrows gone and Daveth planning for the eventual return of his wife Sansa to celebrate their wedding anniversary, an old enemy from the Oathkeeper's past made his return to the world: Euron Greyjoy. How will the terrifyingly sadistic and utterly psychopathic villain impact the Game of Thrones world once Daveth learns of his return? A storm is brewing as stag and kraken will soon clash once more. Thoughts? Let me know.
Guest #1: Finally a fanfic that still updates, amazing!
—I know, but I was sick.
LeaveMeAloneOrElse: It's been so long I forgot but, what happened to Yara again. I remember her being given to the Glovers. Was she executed?
—No, she escaped.
DarkFireCat5241999: Did they have cranyons in the show. Euron dies have another option he could go to valyria
ZabuzasGirl: Love the twins.
C.E.W: Sansa heading back to King's Landing with another child on the way. Now Euron Greyjoy finally reveals himself after seeing what is left of his home in the Iron islands. Emotionless as usual about his home, and the deaths of most of his family. Many in Euron's crew want revenge for the destruction of their home, and will mean to follow Euron anywhere. Daveth will want Euron dead if he finds out he was in the Iron Islands, what's left of them. Euron will look for allies to oppose Daveth, and the chief among them is Daenerys Targaryen. Euron can appeal to her with the motive of revenge and justice for what Daveth did to his home and people.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks.
joharasbel: good work
—Thanks.
Hear My Fury: Oh Euron. You're about to find out the fury of House Baratheon. Your islands are burnt to the ground, if you invade the mainland Daveth will respond accordingly as in you'll be praying that you're being tortured by Ramsay Snow instead of being tortured by the boy you captured. And furthermore knowing Yara will go to Daenerys Euron will have nothing left. There's no Cersei so Euron is pretty much done.
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