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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 121: R L J

In Meereen…

With the Dragon Queen's flight from Meereen following the Sons of the Harpy attack, the task of governing fell to Jon Connington and Daenerys' trusted advisors Missandei and Grey Worm. Following Drogon's disappearance and the Golden Company's arrival, the sellsword company quietly patrolled the streets with the Unsullied. Tensions remained high once word reached Connington of the slave masters of Astapor, Yunkai and Volantis formed an alliance with the intention of laying siege to Meereen and reinstall slavery.

"Still at war, one in the shadows and the other set to lay siege at a moment's notice. The slave masters retook Astapor and Yunkai, returning the whole of Slaver's Baay outside of Meereen," the former Lord of Griffin's Roost realized. "With our fleets burned, we cannot engage them in naval warfare unless the other dragons are released from their confinements before the slaver alliance attacks us. Even the Golden Company's archers, elephants and trebuchets simply cannot reach them."

"We are searching for the men who burned the ships, but nobody saw anything," Grey Worm noted.

"And the dragons?"

Missandei raised her head slightly, yet slightly averted her eyes. "They are not eating," she answered. "They haven't touched any food since Queen Daenerys left."

"Dragons don't do well in captivity," Connington scoffed.

"How do you know this?" she asked.

"When Queen Daenerys' ancestor Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros, he had a much smaller army yet three large dragons: Balerion, Vhagar and Meraxes. Each one ranged over hundreds of miles before finally invading and unified six of the Seven Kingdoms in the War of Conquest. Six out of seven; the world came to understand the full might the Targaryen dragons wielded. Aegon Targaryen changed the rules. That's why every man, woman and child alive in Westeros still knows his name 300 years after his death." He explained before taking a sip of wine from his goblet unconcerned. "But after the unification under Targaryen rule, they chained up their dragons and confined them in pens. As such, their power and size waned drastically until the last were no larger than cats a century and a half later… before the Dance of the Dragons civil war wiped them out until Daenerys came into possession of three petrified dragon eggs. If the dragons beneath the Great Pyramid remain in confinement, they'll end up wasting away like their ancient brethren."

"If a dragon does not want to eat, how do you force him to eat?" asked Grey Worm.

Jon hummed and looked at Missandei. "Tell me, child, how many times were you in the company of these dragons? Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion?" he asked.

"Many times," she answered.

"And during such moments, did they ever harm you?"

"Never."

"Well, there lies your answer, Grey Worm," he remarked. "Dragons are more intelligent than people give them credit for according to some Maesters back home. They're loyal to friends who've earned their trust and dangerous to their enemies who threaten them. The more they eat, the larger they will grow. And the larger they grow, the more they'll eat. Once we've proven to be their friends, they will consume once more… after they're released fist."

During the middle of the conversations, one of the Golden Company mercenaries—Lysono Maar, the Lyseni company spymaster—approached donning inlaid gold armor.

"Lord Connington, our scouts report that the Masters are mobilizing their fleets," he reports.

Connington remained unfazed, even if Grey Worm and Missandei were taken aback. "This is an unexpected move for the Masters. It's too aggressive. How many ships did your men see?"

"Somewhere around 200, give or take."

"How long before we expect them to arrive?"

"A few days if we're lucky."

Connington scratched his red-grey beard, ignoring the fact two or three of his fingers were missing from his earlier amputation. "Inform Captain Strickland to mobilize the other commanders and prepare for an inevitable showdown. Should the Masters send their infantry on land, unleash the cavalry unit and perhaps some war elephants to assist the Unsullied," he ordered. "Keep your scouts at a distance and relay more should you discover more."

As soon as Lysono left, Connington turned towards the Great Pyramid of Meereen.

"Where are you going?" asked Missandei.

He turned to look at her. "To feed the dragons," he simply replied.

Descending the steps into the dragons' holding chamber, Connington lit a torch to light his way as he walked further downwards. Upon reaching the floor, the former Lord of Griffin's Roost stopped moving and stared into the darkness, where a faint growling can be heard. Connington cautiously stood his ground without fear or hesitation – watching as one of the dragons, Rhaegal, emerges from the shadows with his brother Viserion following close behind.

*"Hiisssssss!"*

*"Grrrrrr!"*

Viserion lights a fire in his mouth and roars loudly. Rhaegal approaches with a small roar. Despite the intimidation, Connington showed no signs of fear or concern for his safety.

"Steady now," he said reassuringly yet cautiously. "I'm a friend of your mother, and I'm here to help you. You do not eat the help."

Rhaegal continued growling as Connington approached.

"Such fascinating creatures you two are. You know… back in Westeros 172 years ago, after a bloody civil war between Rhaenyra Targaryen and her half-brother Aegon II for control of the Seven Kingdoms, everyone throughout the world believed dragons to be extinct… But here you are. Your mother hatched you. She loved you, she raised you." he touches Rhaegal on the neck. "All three of you."

Gripping one of the pistons keeping Rhaegal's collar close in one hand, Connington pulled back to release the locking pin and felt the chains and shackles loosen before falling to the ground—freeing the dragon from its confinements. Despite Rhaegal's initial hostility towards Connington, the dragon merely shrugged and walked away. Connington glanced behind him and noticed Viserion quickly closed in on him—but much to his surprise, the youngest dragon gingerly turned its head sideways to expose its neck, beckoning the stranger to free him as well.

"You're free now," Connington whispered to Viserion.

Like how he handled Rhaegal, Connington released the locking pin on Viserion's collar and watched both dragons growling in appreciation before disappearing into the darkness. With a loud roar, Rhaegal and Viserion shot flames from their mouths to blast open a homemade exit for the two of them to fly out of.

Connington watched Rhaegal and Viserion taking flight. "Yes, take a moment to exercise your muscles now," he remarked with a cold, triumphant smile. "When the time for battle comes, the whole world will tremble in the shadows of your wings. The slave masters are only appetizers… but the Usurper's boy Daveth Baratheon is the main course, along with all who follow him."

Beyond the Wall…

Bran continued his training with the Three-Eyed Raven beneath a Great Weirwood Tree. Experiencing yet another vision of the past, Bran and his mentor again find themselves in Dorne—but standing next to a tower along the northern edge of the Red Mountains.

"The Tower of Joy," he examined.

The Three-Eyed Raven nodded. "The final engagement of the civil war—one that the histories remember as Robert's Rebellion—took place at this exact location 22 years ago."

"I remember the lessons from Maester Luwin when I was a boy. King Robert overthrew the Targaryen dynasty and established Baratheon rule. It's still around today."

"Where the lands you grew up on continue to thrive under the leadership of King Robert's son and your brother-in-law Daveth Baratheon, according to the maesters; but every scholar must learn the importance of how the wheels were set in motion to begin with."

"How did you…?"

The Three-Eyed Raven did not answer, but instead pointed in a certain direction to get Bran's attention. The younger Stark narrowed his eyes to catch a glance at what his mentor was pointing at before he noticed seven knights riding into view on horseback. Bran turned behind him and looked over his shoulder to see two Kingsguard knights sitting at the front of the tower; one of which is Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. The other beside him was Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard under the Mad King. Both men donned special silver armor adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen on their breastplate.

"Ser Arthur Dayne," he noticed.

"The Sword of the Morning," the Three-Eyed Raven pointed out.

"Father said he was the best swordsman he ever saw."

Bran and the Three-Eyed Raven moved to an outcropping to watch the events unfold as the men dismounted their horses until Bran recognized one of them.

"That's my father," he noticed.

"And the man beside him is Howland Reed, Meera's father," the Three-Eyed Raven pointed out.

Eddard Stark in his youth barely had a few hairs on his chin, thin enough to be mistaken for a clean shaven face and lighter brown hair reaching his shoulders. Eddard at that time was at the peak of his youthful prime, a year and a half into his role as the new Lord of Winterfell following the deaths of his father and brother Rickard and Brandon. By then, the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen was assassinated by Ser Jaime and Lord Robert had already killed Prince Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident.

Eddard was leading his armies to sweep aside any remaining Targaryen loyalists as he moved south with his men until he arrived in Dorne. His mission was a personal one: locate and rescue his younger sister, Lyanna Stark—who was allegedly abducted by the Crown Prince, a controversial scandal that caused one of the bloodiest civil wars to begin.

Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold walk past Bran to approach Eddard and his six Northmen companions. Swinging Dawn in his hand, Arthur stabs his blade into the dirt.

"Lord Stark," the Sword of the Morning greeted.

Young Eddard ignored him. "I looked for you on the Trident," he said to them.

"We weren't there."

"Your friend the Usurper would've laid beneath the ground if we had been," said Ser Gerold.

"King's Landing has fallen. The Mad King is dead. Rhaegar lies beneath the ground," the Quiet Wolf countered. "Why weren't either of you there to protect your Prince?"

"Our Prince ordered us here," Ser Arthur answered. "But rest assured, our false brother will one day burn in the darkest corner of the Seven hells for breaking his oath."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them. Think of your sister and her little girl, Ser Arthur."

The Sword of the Morning remained calm and composed. "Our knees do not bend easily."

Ser Gerold took one step forward. "Ser Willem Darry fled to Dragonstone with Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys. He is a good man and true. We of the Kingsguard, on the other hand, do not flee."

"Not now, not ever."

"We swore a solemn vow, and take our oaths seriously."

Young Eddard shook his head with resignation, but looked up the Tower of Joy when he heard a painfully loud bloodcurdling scream emanating from behind Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur. Judging by the volume, the Quiet Wolf recognized who that voice belonged to and felt his inner rage boil.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"Where is my sister? Give Lyanna back," he demanded.

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, shook his head and donned his helm with his comrade. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," he said. "And now it begins." He raised Dawn with one hand from the ground and unsheathed a longsword in the other. Wielding two swords with both hands, the Sword of the Morning was ready for battle. Dawn was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," Eddard replied with pity in his voice. "Now it ends."

*CLASH!*

*SWING!*

*CLANG!*

*SLASH!*

Young Eddard and his men draw their blades and charge forward to attack. Howland was the first to lunge, but Ser Arthur blocks his attack and slices him along his midsection. As Howland fell to the ground and rolled off to the side in agony, Ser Gerold runs one of Eddard's men through with his sword before Eddard engages him in single combat and stabs him through the throat.

By then, the second round was beginning. Young Eddard and his companions surrounded and easily outnumbered Ser Arthur Dayne. It was four against one, but the Sword of the Morning was frighteningly calm and full of confidence. Swinging both swords in his hands, Ser Arthur flashed his weapons to his enemies as they formed a circle around him. Eddard, Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover and Martyn Cassel clashed swords with Ser Arthur simultaneously, but were taken by surprise at the Sword of the Morning's superior speed, strength, and grace—easily outshining them all.

*CLASH!*

*SWING!*

*CLANG!*

*SLASH!*

Despite being outnumbered, Ser Arthur easily maneuvered himself out of the circle and kicked Martyn in the chest away from him—once he stumbled, the Sword of the Morning danced and spun around and cut down Martyn before returning his focus to the other combatants. Ser Arthur blocked Eddard's and Willam's swords and kicked away a charging Ethan before disarming Willam's shield. He crossed both swords against Ethan's and pressed forward until he felt the cold steel press against the Northmen's throat. With one, swift fluid motion, the Sword of the Morning sliced open Ethan's throat before impaling Willam through the chest with Dawn.

Now the tense duel was reduced to an even fight: one-on-one combat. Young Eddard knew Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, was already a formidable opponent—regarded by many as one of the deadliest knights who ever lived. Even though the Quiet Wolf was a formidable fighter, even he knew he was no match for the Sword of the Morning. To Ser Arthur, this fight was merely child's play. He could easily cut down the entire Kingswood Brotherhood with one hand while using the other to take a piss without breaking a sweat.

Both men assumed an offensive fighting style before clashing once more.

*CLASH!*

*SWING!*

*CLANG!*

*SLASH!*

Eddard and Ser Arthur engage in a vicious duel, blocking each other's strikes and maneuvering around one another to gain a vantage point as Bran and the Three-Eyed Raven both continued watching from the sidelines.

"He's better than my father," Bran remarked.

"Far better," the Three-Eyed Raven nodded.

"But father beat him."

"Did he?"

"I know he did! I heard the story a thousand times."

As the duel intensified, Ser Arthur easily gains the upper hand and traps Eddard's blade and wrenches it from his hands, kicking it away from him. Now left without a nearby weapon and completely at his mercy, Eddard froze. Before he could deliver the final blow, Ser Arthur heard footsteps from behind him.

*PLORKK!*

"Blurgh!" the Sword of the Morning gasped and falls to his knees, spewing blood from his mouth.

Eddard looked over to see Howland back on his feet only to find the Crannogmen had viciously stabbed Ser Arthur through the back of the neck. The Quiet Wolf appears visibly uncomfortable at winning this way, but hesitatingly picks up Dawn and wields it high up in the air. Although in agony and unprepared for the dishonorable attack from behind, Ser Arthur weakly lifts his head to look up at Eddard, blood pouring out of his throat—by the look in his eyes, the Sword of the Morning seems resigned to his fate; he had done his duty to the last.

"He stabbed him in the back," Bran says in shock.

*SLASH!*

Swinging Dawn in his hand, Eddard delivers the killing blow to the incapacitated Ser Arthur Dayne, killing the legendary Sword of the Morning and sparing him from suffering a slower, crueler death. Bran watches on in confusion as he had heard tales of this duel and never expected his father to stand up for such things.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" a woman screams once more.

Eddard looks up at the Tower of Joy and storms towards it.

"What's in the tower?" asks Bran.

"That's enough for one day," the Three-Eyed Raven says dismissively. "We'll visit again another time."

"I want to see where he's going."

"Time to go."

Bran disregards his mentor's advice and gives chase. "Father!" he yells.

Young Eddard stops on the stairs and turns around in the direction of Bran's yelling but sees nothing and proceeds up the stairs. He hears his sister's screaming and rushes as fast as he possibly could—unaware of Bran following close behind him, still disregarding the Three-Eyed Raven's warnings. Bran watches as Eddard bursts through a door into a bedroom. The scene that greeted him was one that shook him to his very core.

His younger sister, Lyanna Stark, was lying in bed with sheets soaked in blood. She looked frighteningly pale and weak, her pants quiet and face covered in sweat with strands of her long black hair sticking to her.

"N… Ned?" she asks weakly, unaware of the new visitor.

"Lyanna!" Eddard rushes to her side.

"*huff* Ned? Is… *huff* is that you? *huff* Is that really you? *huff*" she shakenly raises a hand up. When Lyanna feels Eddard taking it in his own, she gives a weak smile. "You're… *huff* you're not a dream."

Eddard shakes his head, trying to put on a warm smile. "No, I'm not a dream. I'm here. Right here."

"*huff* I've missed you, big brother… *huff*"

Eddard begins to cry. "I've missed you too," his voice cracked.

Lyanna begins to cry too. "I… I'm so sorry… for what I did. About father… and Brandon, I— I want to be brave," she weeps.

"Shh! You are."

"No, I'm not!"

Eddard lifts his hand from Lyanna's stomach to see his palm covered in blood. His eyes widen with fear and panic.

"I don't want to die," Lyanna begs.

"You're not going to die!" Eddard shakes his head and turns to a handmaiden. "Someone get her some water! Is there a maester?! By the Old Gods, someone help her!—"

Lyanna weakly grabs her brother's arm. "No, no water. Please. Listen to me, Ned," she pulls him close when she sees a newborn baby being delivered to her; feeling her life's energy slipping away, Lyanna whispers into Eddard's ear. "My son… His name is Aegon Targaryen. If Robert finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned. Promise me," she begs.

As the handmaiden hands Eddard the child, he takes a moment to look at his newborn nephew. The baby slowly opened his eyes to look up at his uncle, his dark-hair and brown eyes indicated he was spared the Targaryen traits of silver hair and violet eyes; the child looked more like a Stark and would sadly not know his mother or father at all.

Eddard closed his eyes tight to prevent tears from spilling. "I… I promise, Lyanna. I'll take good care of him. I promise."

Lyanna smiled weakly. "Thank… thank you, Ned," her breathing grew weaker and weaker. "Give him… a name… Keep… him… safe… Promise me…"

Eddard felt his sister's hand grow limp and plop onto the blood-soaked bed. His throat tightened and body shook with grief, knowing that Lyanna had let go of life. She passed away, yet Eddard felt more alone in this world with the exception of his newborn nephew fussing about before letting out a piercing cry.

"Wha… what are you going to call him, my lord?" asked one of the worried handmaidens.

The Quiet Wolf did not look at them. "Lyanna was right about one thing. I do know Robert, and I know he'll stop at nothing to kill every Targaryen in the world… including this one. No, even if he is my friend I won't let him touch him."

"Lord Stark?"

"By the Old Gods, Catelyn will never forgive me for this… but I will take this child back to Winterfell with me, give him a new name and raise him as my own son – no matter how much dishonor falls on me."

"My lord—"

"Jon Snow," he snapped. "From here on out, his name is Jon Snow… my bastard son."

Bran's eyes widened with surprise. Did his father literally just say that? His mind raced as the Three-Eyed Raven touches his shoulder and brought him back to the cave. The white leaves Bran's eyes as the vision fades. The Three-Eyed Raven is tangled in his roots with a Child of the Forest looks on. Once Bran realized where he was again, he crawled towards his mentor.

"My half-brother… he was my cousin this whole time?!" he said in disbelief. "Why? I want to go back! I need to know more!"

"No," the Three-Eyed Raven refused. "The past is already written. The ink is dry. I've told you many times, stay too long where you don't belong and you will never return."

Bran looked upset. "Why do I want to return? So I can be a cripple again? So I can talk to an old man in a tree?!"

"You think I wanted to sit here for 1,000 years watching the world from a distance as the roots grew through me?"

"So why did you?"

"The answer was obvious. I was waiting for you."

"I don't want to be you."

The Three-Eyed Raven sighed. "I don't blame you. You won't be here forever. You won't be an old man in a tree. But before you leave the cave, you must learn."

"Learn what?" asked Bran.

"Everything," he replies.

Chapter End

Author's Note: While Jon Connington readies Meereen for battle against the Slavers Alliance, we get a different rendition of what happens at the Tower of Joy. So here's my take on the R+L=J fan theory and Bran's reaction on learning that his bastard half-brother Jon Snow is actually his paternal cousin Aegon Targaryen. As he continues training to become the new Three-Eyed Raven, how will this knowledge affect the Seven Kingdoms especially since Daveth Baratheon rules the realm? Thoughts? Let me know.

C.E.W: So now Brandon knows the truth about Jon Snow being Aegon Targaryen the legitimate heir to House Targaryen. Matters little at the moment considering Brandon is busy to become the next Three-Eyed-Raven.

The Slaver Alliance will move on Meereen, but Daenerys will return and defeat them. Before long she will be preparing to invade Westeros. Daveth now has the entire realm at his back, the Red Keep, King's landing and Royal navy are building and arming scorpions. Daveth and Daenerys will face each other for the Iron Throne. Unless of course, the White Walker situation intervenes, and they unite against them.

DarkFireCat5241999: People blame children for those parents legacies look at daveth son of a drunk who enjoyed the death of babies and the son of cersei as well his mother was an insane power hungry women and his father started a war that in all senses could have been avoided

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

Moshi: I don't remember it being Daenerys and Jon pairing which actually makes me not to read anymore, sorry, not sorry but the show has made that pairing full of toxicity that cannot be unseen. Having two Targaryens together is been shown NOT to be a good thing. In the end, that love story never was, Jon was just playing a part. Now, I'm not sure how much I will enjoy catching up or if I even will.

Bio RL: I hope daveth does not die at the end, in the fanfictions of principes baratheons they always die, they end up going crazy or lose an eye: w

Hear My Fury: Well I hope Connington roasts first. Dany really needs to stay in Meereen. Like Tyrion told her in the show. "How many thousands of lives have you changed for the better?" Daveth has the love of the nobles and the people, winning rebellion after rebellion and bringing peace to the kingdoms, unlike in canon where Cersei is hated by the people. Plus Daveth has Varys loyal to him. I hope he can kill Connington the same way he kills Kevan Lannister in the books. Connington is a dangerous man to advise Dany with him being hellbent on destroying everything Daveth has built the day he was crowned because he had a hard on for Rhaegar. The best thing Daveth can do right now is get every scorpion ready, plus a little propaganda couldn't hurt either, with Dany coming with sellswords like the Golden Company, who invaded the kingdoms before in the War of Ninepenny kings, a war which was sought out by a Targaryen bastard, the Dothraki who would raid, rape and murder women and children and the mindless Unsullied soldiers. Also you probably won't do it, but I want the Golden Company's ass handed to them like the show albeit without dragons.

Guest #1: Gaddayum i love this fanfic

Rezan: Love the building of this fugure conflict. Cannot wait for more.

ABEBOABDU: mic update man waiting for the confrontation between dany and daveth. I hope you do the night king justice

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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

At the Red Keep…

Daveth and Tommen had begun their day in the courtyard—the two brothers had been sparring, with the eldest Baratheon instructing the youngest on the art of swordsmanship; albeit with practice swords. Although the sword material itself was entirely made out of wood, getting whacked by them still hurt and regularly stung if hit hard enough. So far, the Young Cub was struggling during his lessons.

Tommen flailed his wooden sword, which Daveth easily deflects and kicks his brother's foot out from under him and he lands face first in the dirt.

"Oomph!" he grunted upon impact.

Daveth looked down at him. "Don't lunge, don't cross your feet. You swing a sword like a girl with palsy when you do that," he lectured almost scoldingly.

Tommen pushes himself back up and picked up his discarded wooden shield, determined to keep learning how to defend himself. Day and night the Young Cub yearned to be great fighter like his older brother, but for some reason he never seemed to get any closer to that goal. He never held a sword in his life, but after what happened with the Sparrows… Tommen is actually trying his best to improve himself.

*POCK!*

*WHAM!*

Tommen raised his practice sword for a first strike, but his brother continued parrying a series of strokes whilst he was putting in too much an effort to try to breach his defenses. When he saw Daveth shift his position, Tommen believed he saw an opening and thrust forward but was tripped up again and fell face first into the dirt again.

*POCK!*

*WHAM!*

"Don't go where your enemy leads you. If the bait is obvious, don't take it otherwise you risk being led straight into a trap. Now get up."

Bruised, sore and covered in dirt, Tommen shook his head—clearly frustrated that he was deceived. After constantly being tossed into the ground, training to fight was showing to be quite difficult; on the other hand, though, Daveth did warn him ahead of time that it wasn't going to be easy nor would he show leniency considering his age. He reached out to grab the sword and got back to his feet. It took a moment to regain his balance before moving to swing again, but is met with a quick jab in the gut.

"*gak!*" Tommen gasped and fell to the ground holding his stomach as he felt the wind getting knocked out of him.

Daveth towered over him. "Oh for the love of— Tommen, there's a shield in your hand! Block with it or I'll ring your head like a bell."

"*cough!* *cough!* You didn't say you'd *cough!* hit me, brother."

"Well I never said I wouldn't hit you now did I? Had you started training with Ser Aron Santagar when he was still alive eight years ago, maybe then you would've made at least some progress. But now? If this was a real one-on-one fight, you would've been dead six times in less than a minute already."

"That's… *cough!* a bit harsh."

"Of course it's harsh! It's called reality. I'm out here busting my ass trying to teach you how to defend yourself because you insisted."

Tommen steadily rose to his feet. "Was this… how Ser Olyvar's training felt when he squired for you?" he asked.

Daveth shook his head. "You'll have to ask him that yourself."

As the two brothers resumed their sparring session, Grand Maester Pycelle approached; the sound of chains clanking against his robes could barely be heard—but the Young Stag suspected who it was that came his way.

"Oh, eh… A-apologies for interrupting your time of leisure. I o-only meant to inform you that th-the Queen is arriving in th-the harbor," the old man informed him.

Daveth and Tommen stopped mid-swing.

'Sansa,' the Young Stag thought. "I see. Have the other royal councilors ready to welcome her back properly," he turned to his youngest brother. "Tommen, that'll be all for today. Go get yourself cleaned up and fetch my son and daughter."

—15 minutes later—

Daveth and the Small Council advisors stood waiting at the docks, watching as The Winter's Voyage finally came into view and arrived at perfect timing. Lyonel and Cassana were being held by their father, though that didn't stop the royal twins from barely containing their excitement at being reunited with their mother.

"Mommy! Mommy!" the twins squealed.

"Shhh! Steady now, you two," Daveth told them.

The vessel soon docked and allowed its crew members to disembark via a gangplank. Once most of the luggage was unloaded, the attendees saw Queen Sansa descending the gangplank with Brienne, Olyvar, Lucius, Ariyana and Jeyne following close behind her. Even still Sansa emanated such elegance, grace and compassion. Her swollen belly was often hidden underneath her Northern fur cloak, but Daveth and Catelyn noticed it right away.

As Sansa steadily approached, both Lyonel and Cassana broke rank and protocol and darted towards their mother.

"Mommy! Mommy!" they shouted excitedly.

Sansa smiled warmly and knelt down and spread her arms wide to embrace her children. "Ooh, my babies," she cooed. "My goodness, look at how big you two grew! Were you good to daddy and grandma?"

"We wuv you, mommy."

"I love you too, little ones. Mommy's missed you both very much."

Sansa kissed Lyonel and Cassana's heads, though the twins goofily tried to reciprocate—with the Wolf Queen chuckling at their acts of affection. Catelyn watched her daughter and grandchildren in such a warm reunion; Daveth watched as his wife approached them with their children in tow. Once close, Daveth and Sansa give each other a hug.

"My Queen," he greeted.

"My King," she returned the gesture.

"Welcome back to the capital, Your Grace," Varys chimed. "I'm sure you must be soaked from when the storm hit."

Sansa shook her head. "Your concern is appreciated, Lord Varys. But I'm fine."

Brienne approached Daveth and handed Stormbringer. "Your sword, Your Grace," she said.

"Hmm. Thank you for keeping my wife safe, Brienne," the Young Stag gripped the Valyrian steel sword and fastened it to his waistline again. His eyes soon catch Jeyne Poole, who hid behind Sansa. "I see that your friend has… opted to accompany you back to King's Landing, Sansa. Might I ask what happened up in the North?" he asked.

What Daveth had failed to understand was how intimidating he must've looked in the eyes of someone who's been seriously traumatized. The moment Jeyne noticed Daveth staring directly at her, she flinched, broke eye contact, looked away and her body began to tremble slightly; Sansa noticed.

"I invited Jeyne to come here. She's going to be living with us at the Red Keep as one of my ladies-in-waiting… just until she finds her feet."

Daveth eyed the frightened Jeyne up and down. "Hmm. Until she finds her feet, she can stay as a guest of House Baratheon."

"Th-thank you, kind ser. I, I mean, Your Grace," she stammered. "I-I promise I won't get in the way."

"Then if that's settled, let's go back to the Red Keep. I imagine we all have a lot to discuss."

"With all due respect," Varys chimed, "I imagine you'd want to spend more time with your wife now that she's come home. Why don't you take a moment to enjoy yourselves? It's rather easier on the mind, body and spirit when the day's burdens are lifted off the shoulders of those who carry too much weight."

"Varys—"

"If it'll make you feel better, should any important matter comes to our attention you will be informed."

Daveth sighed exasperatedly.

—Later that night—

Daveth and Sansa shared a brief moment to themselves that night at the Red Keep. In their bedchamber they exchanged words of what the other endured while away from one another; the Wolf Queen informed her husband of the incident in the North, the elimination of House Bolton, Ramsay Snow's attempted coup d'état and the horrific abuses her friend Jeyne endured. Daveth, in turn, informed Sansa of the religious fanatic Sparrows, their attack on him and the traitor in the Faith of the Seven's Most Devout.

"Sounds like we both had to face our own trials. The High Sparrow and his followers," Sansa remarked.

Daveth nodded once. "I imagine having to deal with Ramsay was more difficult. Not just on the battlefield, but psychologically as well."

"It wasn't anything us Starks couldn't handle, love."

"I don't deny it. You Northmen are hard to kill."

"But even if it's just for a moment, at least we get a moment to ourselves; you, me and the children."

'Got to make the best of what you have,' the Young Stag mentally exclaimed. "Speaking of such, I… brought you something, Sansa."

Sansa blinked. "For me?"

Daveth stood from his seat and took Sansa's hand, escorting her over to the other side of the room. Pulling a curtain aside, Sansa's eyes widened and placed both her hands over her mouth in surprise at the sight: a mixture of flowers in a fancy decorative glass vase containing red roses, yellow daises, white lilies and lilacs and purple hydrangeas. Next to it was a crown of blue winter roses and a fancy crown resembling the ancient Kings in the North. The lit candles in the room emanated enough light to make them glow and shine.

"D-Daveth, I'm… speechless. I don't know what to say," she said surprised. "You did all this for me?"

"Shae and Bodrin helped me pick out which flowers you'd probably like. Had the forgers get every detail done on that crown. Well, that and our children drew you a few pictures—"

Sansa hugged Daveth. "Oh Daveth, sometimes I wonder what it is I possibly could've done to deserve you."

"Then does this… please you?"

She nods. "Mhmm. The gifts, you, our children… I think I have just the thing to give to you on our marriage anniversary." Sansa slowly guides her husband's left hand and places it on her pregnant stomach; currently three months along, she was showing a larger bump in her second first trimester entering into the next likely as if her body remembered from the first experience.

Daveth already knew this when he received the letter and looked at her. "Boy or girl?" he asked with a small grin.

"I don't know."

He then surprised her again when he placed both hands at her waist; Sansa looked down and noticed the two of them swayed from side to side. It wasn't until the Wolf Queen realized what it was her husband was actually making her do with him. On the day of their anniversary they were dancing atop the balcony with lit candles illuminating the area with additional assistance of the full moon.

Sansa couldn't help but chuckle with amusement. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Teehee."

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I see you've been working on your dancing skills."

Daveth raised an eyebrow. "I take it you're going to laugh at me? We haven't danced like this since our wedding night. If I need more practice, I'll—"

"On the contrary, love," Sansa shook her head as they whirled with smooth grace. "Your dancing has improved much since then."

"Is it not a man's duty to surprise his wife on special occasions?"

"One of many qualities, but yes it's something most young maidens fantasize."

"Like you were once?" Daveth jested.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Oh very funny, Daveth. Congratulations for ruining such a romantic moment," she placed her hand on his chest.

"Complain all you want. You know you're enjoying yourself."

The Wolf Queen gently shushed her husband and pulled him close, bringing her lips to his. Daveth and Sansa kissed. As they kissed, full of hunger and desire, their tongues battled for dominance.

"Mmm," she moaned happily.

Daveth wrapped hands around her waist and Sansa placed hers on his chest and around his neck. For a moment, they were lost in each other before they broke apart, just staring into each other's eyes.

"Happy anniversary, Sansa," Daveth said.

"Happy anniversary, Daveth," Sansa replied. "Daveth?"

"Hmm?"

"Your hand is on my ass."

Daveth blinked before he noticed his right hand was placed on her buttocks and quickly brought it back up to his wife's waist. "Oh. I, ah, sorry," he apologized rather embarrassed.

"Pervert. You never change, do you?"

"I swear I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know, love. I'm just teasing." Sansa rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "But still, thank you for the presents. It means a lot to me."

Daveth brushed his hand across Sansa's auburn hair; silky and smooth, his wife's hair had a soft delicate touch. He held her close and took in her scent, a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemons, peaches and honeyed wine. Even in the embrace both felt how much they missed the other. The Young Stag lifted Sasna's chin up and kissed her again, though the tender moment was brought about by the sound of high-pinched whining.

"Eeew!"

Both Daveth and Sansa turned to see Lyonel and Cassana making disgusted faces.

"Who asked you to watch, pups? And what are you two doing out of bed at this hour?" their father remarked.

"No sleepy," Cassana whined.

"We wan' stowy!" Lyonel demanded.

Daveth rolled his eyes. Sansa, however, smiled.

"Okay. If mommy tells you a story, will you two promise to go to sleep?" she asked in a motherly tone.

Both twins quickly nodded their heads yes. Sansa withdrew herself from her husband's embrace and led Lyonel and Cassana to the bed and lay down beside them to tuck them under the covers. Once she was certain both underneath the bedsheets and their pillows were comfortably adjusted for them, Sansa motioned for Daveth to lay across from her with their twins resting in the middle—a request he obliged.

"All right, children. How about I tell you a story about Florian the Fool and his Lady Jonquil?"

Lyonel and Cassana snuggled in the bed and listened to their mother reciting a bedtime story for them.

"'Once there lived a maiden named Jonquil,'" she begun. "'She was beautiful and clever, but even if she looked like an old boot men would have gazed upon her with longing and sung songs of her beauty and goodness for she was the only child of a great lord.'"

Daveth propped his closed fist against his cheek, watching Sansa telling one of her favorite stories to their children. The twins looked purely innocent as their eyes slowly started closing; although they fought hard to stay awake, Lyonel and Cassana soon fell asleep when Sansa neared the end of The Tale of Florian and Jonquil.

"'And this time, she went with him. From the damp dark caves, from the noble skirmishes of Westeros, to the Golden Cities across the sea. And there they lived out their days together, free.'" She smiled at the sight of her children slumped over in their sleep, their small chests rising and falling. Sansa soon brought herself under the bedsheet and brought her arms around them, cuddling them in their sleep. "Sleep well, my little ones. Dream nothing but sweet dreams."

Daveth followed his wife, but instead wrapped his left arm protectively around all three of them: Sansa, their son and daughter. In his mind, if it was a mother's task of nurturing their children, then surely it was the father's job to protect his family from harm. The Young Stag and Wolf Queen gazed lovingly at each other as each of the twins turned in their sleep and cuddled at whoever was closer to them. When Lyonel nuzzled up against his mother, Cassana did the same with her father.

"Such a little mama's boy and daddy's girl," Sansa whispered.

"Do you think we've spoiled them?" Daveth whispered.

"Only time will tell once they've grown up some more. We're still learning."

"I suppose you're right."

Sansa yawned. "I love you."

"As do I."

Somewhere in the Riverlands…

On rich, fertile farmlands many men are seen performing various tasks pertaining to the construction of a church in their village while the women were busy preparing food. The small village in the Riverlands had no lord, no mayor… they all consisted of a local congregation under Brother Ray, a veteran of the War of Ninepenny Kings and a former mercenary reformed as a man of peace, becoming an ordained traveling Septon serving the Faith of the Seven.

"That's it. Get it to the top," one of the villagers motioned for the logs being lifted.

"Steady now. Steady," spoke another.

Brother Ray stood beneath the framing. "Up she goes," he addressed the two men hoisting up a log. He turns to another man and slaps him on the back. "Hey, come on. Put your back into it, huh?"

Before long, he turned around and walked a few paces away. Grabbing an axe, he lifts it up to a man standing on the church framing and waves them in. He hurries beneath one of the logs and laughs. In a field a little ways off, more men are carrying larger logs. One in particular—a tall, muscular man—dropped two heavy logs in front of the framing and wipes aside the sweat from his brow, revealing to be Sandor "the Hound" Clegane. No longer donning his signature dark heavy armor and instead an olive vest with light green shirt and pants, Sandor picked up a nearby axe and repeatedly swings it onto a horizontal log, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

"Look mister!" a little girl showed her doll. "Look what Brother Ray got me!"

Sandor huffed and looked down at the child. Normally his mere presence and size alone would've been enough to intimidate those around him, but for some reason the little girl showed no fear and displayed the exact opposite. Indeed, nearly everyone in Ray's congregation treated him kindly.

"Good for him," he replied simply.

"Want him to get you something too?"

"No."

Ray walked up behind him. "Haleigh, your mother's looking for you," he told her. As soon as she left to the village, he returned his focus to Sandor. "In all my days I've never seen a man swing an axe like that. How many men did it take to cut you down?"

"None yet," he replied gruffly.

"Yet little Haleigh show no fear of you."

"Strange. Good kid, but keeping people like her secluded and isolated will only serve as an eye-opener when trouble does come knocking."

"Maybe, but I think some of the men here are a bit afraid of you."

"I'm used to it," Sandor drinks an entire cup of water. "Girl wouldn't stop shoving her doll in my face."

"I presume that you were never shown compassion from a child?" Ray asked.

Sandor huffed again. "She said you gave her that. Well," he pointed at the gruesome burned facial scarring on the right side of his face, "my brother gave me this! I was 7 when he did that; pressed me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop."

Even the peaceful Ray was slightly disturbed. "Why would he do that?"

"Thought I stole one of his toys. I didn't steel it. I was just playing with it." A sudden mental image of a young Sandor Clegane playing like a normal child came into mind. "The pain was bad, but the smell was worse. That's not even the worst part. The worst thing was that it was my own brother who did it. My father, who protected him… told everyone my bedding caught fire. I wanted revenge. Been after it all my life… 'til that fuckin' trial robbed me of it," His face turned with disgust at the memory of learning of Ser Gregor's death at the Trial by Seven.

"What kept you going in life?"

"Hate."

"No matter how tragic your reasons for feeling hate or craving revenge, clinging on to that hatred will destroy you," Ray said. "No, I believe there's a reason you're still here."

Sandor spat. "Aye, there's a reason. I'm a big fucker and I'm tough to kill."

"No, I meant a reason. The Gods aren't done with you yet."

"I've heard that before, though Beric Dondarrion talked about a different God."

"Well, maybe he was right. I don't know much about the Gods."

"Then you're probably in the wrong line of work."

"Oh, there's plenty of pious sons of bitches who think they know the word of God or Gods," Ray laughed. "I don't. I don't even know their real names. Maybe it is the Seven. Or maybe it's the Old Gods up north. Or maybe it's the Lord of Light. Or maybe they're all the same fucking thing. I don't know. What matters, I believe, is that there's something greater than us. And whatever it is, it's got plans for Sandor Clegane."

Sandor just sat there and stares at Ray who nods at him and sat down on a stump next to one of the men.

"Believe it or not, I was a soldier once. Back in the War of the Ninepenny Kings 44 years ago," he continued. "All my superiors thought I was brave. I wasn't. I mean, I never ran from a fight. Only because I was afraid my friends would see I was afraid. That's all I was, a coward. We followed orders no matter the orders. Burn that village. Fine, I'm your arsonist. Steal that farmer's crops. Good, I'm your thief. Kill those young lads so they won't take up arms against us. I'm your murderer. I remember once a woman screaming at us, calling us animals as we dragged her son from their hut. But we weren't animals. Animals are true to their nature and we had betrayed ours. I cut that young boy's throat myself as his mother screamed and my friends held her back."

One of the farmers, Clarrik, looked up at him. "What happened next, Brother Ray?" he asked intrigued.

"One night, I felt such shame. Shame was so heavy on me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. All I could do was stare into that dark sky and listen to that mother screaming her son's name. I'll hear her screaming the rest of my life. Now, I know I can never bring that lad back. All I can do with time I've got left is bring a little goodness into the world. That's all any of us could do, isn't it? Never too late to stop robbing people, to stop killing people. Start helping people." Ray turned to Sandor. "It's never too late to come back."

The Hound returns Ray's gaze but is distracted by the approach of four horsemen coming his way. Brother Ray turned and noticed them too; as the four men stopped, all villagers stood up as Ray moved to greet them. Sandor, however, recognized that neither of them carried any banners or wore sigils of their hose. They looked like a vagabond of outlaws, most likely an offshoot branch of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Either way, Sandor knew in his bones that something was amiss.

"Seven save you, friends," Ray greeted. "How can we help you?"

One of them, Lem Lemoncloak, wore a yellow cloak and was a big and brawny man with a bushy brown beard and bad teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we're talking about life. You?"

"Protecting the people."

"Well, we thank you for your protection. Who are you protecting us from?"

Sandor eyed each of them closely, but recognized one of them: Karrem, a butcher from the Crossroads Inn and the father of the boy he killed years earlier, Myach. Last time they met it was when Sandor fought Beric in a trial by combat and won. Although he was permitted to leave, Karrem never forgave his leader for letting his son's killer walk away and spent the next few years scouring across the Riverlands searching for him. They locked eyes with one another, one however yearned for a fight.

"None of your business, old man," Karrem spat. "Just stay out of our way. The night is dark and full of terrors."

Lem smiled wickedly and turned the horses around with his men as they rode off into the distance. Although Ray and his followers returned to their meals, Sandor, however, never took his eyes off of them. Deep in the pit of his gut, the Hound knew that their presence meant there was trouble afoot.

Whatever the case, Sandor felt his skin itch and flexed his muscles; should they ever return, the Hound will be ready for them; for only he was among Ray's congregation that recognized the four men as a threat.

Chapter End

Author's Note: Daveth is training Tommen and is proving to be a bit hard on him, don't you think? He and Sansa share an emotional reunion and spend quality time for themselves and their children for their long-awaited anniversary. At the end of the first half, Sansa told her twins a bedtime story and tucked them in. Think Daveth did his best for at least trying to make an impression for his wife upon her return home?

For the second half we witness the return of Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Although bitterly cynic and resentful that his chance for revenge against his brother has been permanently taken away from him, Brother Ray and his followers at least were willing to take Sandor in to at least try to reform him… that is until a familiar face returned; one who'll no doubt force the Hound to pick up his blade and go on the killing warpath again.

Next chapter will focus around the Second Siege of Meereen between Daenerys Targaryen and the Slavers Alliance. Stay tuned for more!

Also, I've been lately receiving comments in the reviews questioning a potential pairing between Daenerys and Jon Snow; now I've got no opinion on it and don't take sides per se, some among you have concerns about it. Please leave a detailed description in the reviews explaining why you're in favor or oppose to such a pairing so I could at least try to understand. Not something simple like "I don't like it 'cause it was fan service," but an actual reason why you either like or dislike it.

Beyond that, what are your thoughts? Let me know.

Bad Ass Female Fighter: I've been binge reading this for two days and I f*cling love every moment of it. Daveth just can't catch a break, can he? I hope Cat learns the truth about Jon, that way, she knows Ned never once betrayed her. Dany is in for one helluva time when she meets Daveth and Jon. That's gonna be a sh*tstorm to look forward to. Oh, and Jon should tell Daveth what he did to Joffrey.

Aries90: Just saying I know people want this to happen too because Jon x Dany but i don't think it will happen this time because Dany wants the throne but Daveth has it but they also need to deal with the white walkers with a actually united Westeros and Dany i think they can do it actually take on the white walkers but they just need to deal with that jerk Euron first is all once he is dead than maybe dany than the white walkers

Shark: While I'm not a Deanerys hater, I don't think the she and Jon should get together. She is threat to Sansa and her kids, who Jon loves. She is his sister and they have a better relationship bow. Robb is loyal to Daveth and Jon is loyal to Robb. It just wouldn't work out

Guest #1: Nice thing to wake up to

FleeingReality: Daveth x Sansa is a wonderful thing and I'm so glad you have written this story so that I could experience it.

O: Just kill Dany if you ask me every Targeryan (except for Jon because to me he is a Stark) should die. Look at their history it nothing but bloody except for the wise king Jahereys. When watching the show and read a little about the books, I finally understand her character. Due to her the stories she grew up listening to, she developed some form of God complex. I thought during her time in Essos will helped her to become humble but it only made it worse. The people treated her like a God and willing to die for. Which gave her fuel for her ego. Who kills unjustly, and does little to rule except something here and there.

Now we have will Daveth our favorite King is love/respect by the common and nobles. He is a little prideful but only in the small stuff. He saw a terrible king leading his country to ruin and refused to let it come to pass. He helps the smallfok in Kingslanding and help improve the smallfolk all around. He stopped rebellions and was always fair in his judgement.

And for people who belive JxD it won't work. Dany is to emotional. She burn kingslanding when she had won, while Jon is pragmatic who gives second chances.

RHatch89: Awesome update... as much I love the Jonerys pairing, the only way it would work in this instance is if after everything is said and done, Daenerys has wised up enought to know that she would have no supporters in Westeros and decided to return to the place that true

Moshi: As you said to explain, here I go. For one, I want to address something Oathmaker brought up, Jon's advice to Daenerys on the beach in 7.04, went one ear and right out the other. Not burning castles or cities does imply DO NOT BURN PEOPLE ALIVE, which she has done, repeatedly. (Still haven't caught up, so this is going to be based on show with a little book thrown in). In Astapor, she burned the master, reneging on a deal (which is not a good thing, it also established a pattern for her word meaning jackshit), gained the Unsullied, telling them to kill the Masters (in book, told them to kill those with tokars older than 12/13, aww how nice of her...). Then she makes her speech about telling them they could choose to follow her of their own freewill (which has been beaten out of them) while still holding the whip, yeah, think about that for a quick second. Sure she may have dropped it, but if they really had a true choice, we would have seen some choose not to follow her. Yunkai fell right back to the masters. Meereen is full of failure and we see just who she truly is, there is a reason GRRM has given his full blessings to the Meereenese Blot Essays. She murders 163 masters without trial, without finding out the bloody truth of who was truly behind the crucifying of those children, it's quite possible that most got away with it. She burned a man alive filling acknowledging that he could be innocent. She straight tells Hizdahr that she would happily return Meereen to dirt, not caring about innocents because they die for her good cause. That SHE is the only one who knows what is best...this was brought up again right before her death. It is the peak of an arrogant tyrant, for which in the book she is becoming. Her god complex is off putting. In season 7, Jon truly showed no interest in her, all romantic tropes were broken on his end, according to Kit, Jon was being more political in that season and he was proud of that, then by season 8, he is absolutely terrified of this woman he brought to his home. She threatens his family because they don't kiss her ass for merely showing up. She can't understand why the North or the Vale is hostile (Jon chose the North over the crown which implies that the Great Daenerys Targaryen WOULD NOT HELP without Jon bending the knee and this is true. Jon did not believe revenge or the bleeding truth was enough to get Daenerys to head North because they were still heading to KL after the Wight Hunt and when Jon tried to play equals, she bock, so he went subservient and she fucking preened. Then in KL, she still wasn't fully committed. The boatbang, which was lackluster but also, in an earlier script, she "requested" his presence in her chamber.). She dislikes that Sansa and Jon are loved by the people, that they TRULY inspire such. The fact that even drunk, with his parentage reveal, Jon can't bring himself to fuck her or later mean the words "I love you" which were said after Varys was burned alive and Daenerys threatening Sansa's life again (Sansa's very presence is a threaten to Daenerys, because Sansa is competent and cares deeply for her people) he couldn't even kiss her. This arrogant, entitled, brat of a woman is the love of Jon's life? Jon who shot Mance Rayder with an arrow so he wouldn't burn alive. Who banished Melissandre for burning Shireen, who said Winterfell belongs to my sister. Who still left Ygritte, whom he did love (we were shown this, NOT fucking told, which is a red flag) for the Nights Watch. The man who ALWAYS chose duty. The man who loves the Starks, who always wanted to BE a Stark. Would be perfect for Daenerys? Even on screen it was shown to be a toxic and abusive relationship where Daenerys held the power. It was like watching Sansa with Joffrey after her father has been executed.

Do remember that the more violent and brutal ways of the Freefolk disgusted Jon. Seeing Ygritte kill an innocent old man was a big turn off. Hearing Val state that she would have killed Shireen because of the greyscale made him wary. The Jon of season 8 (and parts of 7) was not Jon, season 6 Jon would beat the shit out of s8 Jon, s7 Jon would smack the shit out of s8 Jon wondering what happened to the plan and ask why the fuck did he not go to Sansa with EVERYTHING, Book Jon would throw s8 Jon off the Wall.

Daenerys Targaryen is the antagonist, she is the Fire of the title, the other threat. This has been foreshadowed since book one. The Starks (this includes Jon) are the protagonists, the heart of the story. Yes, he will have confront her, but falling for her, have this epic romance, that would go against everything that has made up Jon's character. Jon and Daenerys are foils, not some tragic romance. (If they were really in love, then that means Kit can't act romantically in love with someone, which is pure bullshit. What makes better sense is if he was told something completely different. Season 8 did him dirty.). That's my two cents.

Randa1: No creo que Daveth haya Sido duro con Tommen, recuerdas como Bruenne entrenaba a Podrick?, Eran muy similares las escenas (I do not think Daveth was hard with Tommen, do you remember how Bruenne trained Podrick? The scenes were very similar)

Hear My Fury: Great chapter. On the Jon and Daenerys pairing, I don't think it should happen mainly because story wise it makes no sense. Sansa is married to Daveth, Jon could just ask him for help. As far as Daenerys there's no one there to vouch for Jon like Tyrion. The whole reason why Jon didn't ask Cersei first is because he knew she would kill him the moment he stepped foot in the capital. That and she was pretty much responsible for his family's death. In this story, his family's alive and like I said before, Sansa is the queen. Plus and I know a lot of Dany fans will disagree with me on this, but Daenerys should be treated like Cersei, go full on Mad Queen. Because she has someone like Connington spewing out lies about the Baratheons and Starks. Plus she has no allies in Westeros, all she has are two exiled knights that don't have good reputations in the country, an army of sellswords that tried to take over years ago and finally an army of rapists and murderers. Just my opinion.

Oathmaker: Jon and Daenerys was an excellent pairing. Two young individuals who loved parallel lives, royalty banished from home and the throne (jon didnt even know). One banished to the heat of essos, the other to the winter wall. Both made allies of "savages" and have accomplished great things, yet both were ever lonely. They found each other, and found love. If it wasnt for the bad writing in season 8, maybe there could have been more to them. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, yet when they are alone, they weren't so terrible. Jon advised Daenerys on that beach not to burn cities and melt castles, and Dany simmered down and listened. That's why they should be together.

Bio RL: How does the pairing work anyway? Jon betraying everyone to stand next to Dany? , it is impossible that the north is with jon in this story, besides it is not possible that daveth leave dany or his descendants alive since it would be a problem for their children.

(sorry the bad English I'm using translator)

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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

At Meereen…

Daenerys flew on Drogon's back watching the besiegement of Meereen already taking place below her. Off the coast, ships belonging to the Slavers Alliance armada consisting of both the reconquered Astapor and Yunkai were bombarding the city with their trebuchets; volleys of flaming projectiles soared over the beach and into the city. Daenerys watched from above in anger at the sight of terrified civilians running for their lives.

*WHOOSH!*

*BOOM!*

"Ilagon. (Descend)," she tells her dragon.

Drogon screeches and flies downward onto the roof of the Great Pyramid, allowing Daenerys to dismount safely as the beast hid behind one of the nearby pyramids—waiting for its prey to come to it. On the ground, many Unsullied and Golden Company mercenaries were evacuating the citizenry as the Second Sons scrambled with the Meereenese City Guard. Connington was among the first to see Daenerys right away.

"About time you came back, child," he exclaimed. "The Great Masters have already begun laying siege to the city, all while our men—"

Daenerys held her hand up. "Now is not the time to argue, Lord Connington," she replied unfazed. She is not the same woman who flew away from Daznak's Pit on the back of a dragon.

*BOOM!*

"Meereen is strong. The city's primary rebirth has been the cause of the violence we've all witnessed even before the heroic revolutionary Saqnizza Dhardu led the revolt against the Masters—"

*BOOM!*

It was a close one, though neither Connington nor Daenerys flinched. Connington watches how the Dragon Queen carries herself and looks at him, regarding her as someone who's coming into her own.

"We cannot let the Masters win because they know Meereen is thriving on its own, economically and politically. If Meereen succeeds as a city without slavery, without Masters—"

*BOOM!*

"—then it proves no one needs a Master. Shall we begin?"

Connington raised an eyebrow, his curiosity peaked. "You have a plan in mind?" he pressed.

Daenerys nodded. "I will crucify the Masters. I will set their fleet afire, kill every last one of their soldiers and return their cities to the dirt. Well, that's what I'd normally say had I not had more time to think about the kind of ruler I want to be; to not be like the kind of ruler my father was once."

*BOOM!*

"So I suggest we take an alternative approach. But what happens next depends on you, Lord Connington. Come. It's time we take the fight to them."

*BOOM!*

A blast from one of the flaming projectiles hit the balcony and explodes inward, sending shards of wood flying everywhere. Outside, smoke and fire and debris flies in through the window. Connington, Grey Worm, Daario, Jorah and an assembly of Unsullied accompanied Daenerys to an elevated plateau outside of the city with good views of both Slavers Bay and the Meereenese skyline. They stand across from the three Masters, Yeezan zo Qaggaz, Razdal mo Eraz and Belicho Paenymion accompanied with a dozen of bodyguards.

Razdal smiles. "Once before I offered you peace. If you had not been so arrogant, you could have returned to your homeland with a fleet of ships. Instead you will flee Slavers Bay on foot like the Beggar Queen you are."

Connington scoffed. "We're here to discuss terms of surrender, not trade insults – no matter how amusing it sounds."

"The terms are simple," Yezzan stated, arms crossed. "You and your foreign friends will abandon the Great Pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder." He glances at Missandei. "The translator you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The dragons beneath the Great Pyramid will be slaughtered."

'Arrogant fool,' Connington thought smugly. 'They still cannot comprehend the magnitude of their situation. But they'll learn soon enough. One way or another, they will learn.'

Grey Worm and Missandei both watche Yezzan, emotionless.

"I fear you're all mistaken," Daenerys replied confidently. "We obviously did not communicate clearly enough. We are here to discuss your surrender, not mine."

The slave masters exchange glances and laugh. Oh, how they laugh!

"I imagine it's difficult, adjusting to the new reality," Razdal pointed out. "Your reign is over."

"On the contrary. My reign has just begun." Without beating an eyelash or breaking eye contact, she utters a word. "Māzigon naejot nyke, Drōgon. (Come to me, Drogon.)"

"*RRAAAAAAAAAAAARRH!*"

Yezzan notices something in the distance, a black dot in the sky that grows larger and larger. Soon all the envoys and their bodyguards see it: Daenerys never turns to look at the approaching Drogon, who flies up over the plateau and lands on an overlooking structure. Daenerys allows the faintest hint of a smile to form across her face, a smile that says: 'This game is only just beginning. I've got you in my clutches now, but this time there is no escape… for any of you.'

The beast roars loudly across the sky and drops down beside Daenerys, who climbs on his back without hesitation like she was born to ride dragons and they fly off over Meereen, displaying the Dragon Queen's control of the greatest war machine the known world has ever seen. The Masters' bodyguards shrink in fear and terror.

"*SKREEE!*"

"*WOORAAAH!*"

When they pass over the entrance to the catacombs, Rhaegal and Viserion swoop down from above and joins them—spitting fire from their mouths upon hearing their brother's calls; all three dragons look a lot healthier than ever before. The ensemble flies over the beach entrance to Meereen, overpassing Daznak's Pit, other landmarks of Meereen and towards the Great Pyramid.

—Outside the city—

On the outskirts of Meereen, a group of the Sons of the Harpy are slaughtering citizens of Meereen. Galloping footsteps can be heard in the distance. One of the Sons of the Harpy turns to look in the direction of the sound. The 100,000 Dothraki horde led by Qhono rounds the bend of a nearby cliff, yelling war cries and charging full force towards the Sons of the Harpy on horseback.

With one swing of his arakh, Qhono beheads a Son of the Harpy. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the Sons of the Harpy tried putting up a fierce resistance—but to no avail as the Dothraki slaughtered and plundered.

Inside, the Golden Company war elephants and cavalry were easily able to rout any remaining Sons of the Harpy within Meereen. Captain Strickland removed his helm and stared at the sky, watching the three dragons flying ever closer to the Slaver Alliance armada.

"Incredible…" he said in awe.

—By the edge of Slavers Bay—

Daenerys and all three of her dragons fly over the Masters' ships. The mercenary soldiers and sailors on the ships stop what they were doing and stare up at her fearfully. Three large, full-grown dragons circle in the sky above them; too late, they realize what horrible career choices they have made.

"Dracarys. (Dragonfire)," she orders.

Inhaling deep, Drogon breathes fire upon the warship. Rhaegal and Viserion follow suit. It's an awe-inspiring sight: three columns of flame, thick as tree trunks reducing ship and crew alike to ash in a matter of seconds. Engulfed in flames, the soldiers and sailors scream as they die while the ship incinerates and capsizes.

The rest of the slavers fleet gets the message loud and clear. Each sailor abandons ship en masse, jumping into the ocean and swimming for safety wherever they can find it. Weighed down by their armor and weapons, many of them drown to a cold, dark, watery grave.

—Back on the plateau—

The Unsullied on the plateau shift their spears to attack mode in one synchronized fashion. Their commander, Grey Worm, calmly approaches them. "Ao vali emagon iā iderennon. (You men have a choice)," he tells them. "Vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt āeksia qilōni would dōrī vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt ao. Iā jikagon lenton, naejot aōha lentor. (Fight and die for Masters who would never fight and die for you. Or go home, to your families.)"

With the sound of dragons screeching in the distance, the Masters' mercenary bodyguards glance at each other and immediately throw down their arms before running away without hesitation. The three Masters Yeezan, Razdal and Belicho stood their abandoned facing the Unsullied and the Targaryen generals.

"Now that we have your complete and undivided attention, allow me to make this crystal clear for you three," Connington approached with his arms tucked behind his back. "Your guards have abandoned you; every Son of the Harpy you clandestinely dispatched has been utterly wiped out never to be seen or heard from again, and to top it all off… every single ship in your armada now belongs to us. Queen Daenerys Stormborn will see to it that they are properly suited for her quest to retake the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. But even though our Queen tends to have a… forgiving nature, this unprovoked act of aggression cannot and will not be forgiven."

The Masters have not quite processed their new reality yet; they look between Jon Connington and the Unsullied infantrymen, pointing their spearheads right at their hearts.

"Our Queen insists that one of you must die," Missandei agrees, "as punishment for your crimes."

"It always seems abstract, doesn't it, hmm? Other people dying?"

Razdal instantly grabs Yezzan. "Him! He should die!" he shoves him forward.

Belicho nodded. "Yes, yes, him!"

Yezzan looks at the two of them, stunned and terrified. "My friends— Why?"

"He's not one of us!" Razdal continued ranting. "He's an outsider, a lowborn! He does not speak for us!"

Connington glances back at Grey Worm and nods at him; Grey Worm approaches and stares Yezzan in his eyes.

"Please," the slave master falls to his knees begging for mercy. "Please, please—"

Grey Worm unsheathes his dagger; before anyone could blink, the Unsullied leader swiftly slices both Razdal and Belicho's throats with a single move—instantly killing them both in less than five seconds with such an impressive feat. The two Masters fall to the ground, dying, clutching their opened throats. Once he wipes the blood off his blade, Grey Worm sheathes his dagger and takes a step back. As Yezzan gasps, almost in a state of shock, Connington steps towards Yezzan and grips his shoulder tightly.

"Let this be a reminder of what happens when you declare war upon us," he said through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with menace. "Go. Tell every single slave owner everything that happened here. Tell them you live by the grace of Her Majesty because she chose to spare your worthless life. If they even think about any foolish notions of retribution or any ideas about returning the slave cities to their former glory, remind them what happened when Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons came to Meereen with her armies and all three of her dragons."

*BAM!*

Before parting, Connington punched Yezzan across the face—rendering the Master unconscious. He, Grey Worm, Missandei, Daario and Jorah soon walk away to return to the market center. They stop moving as soon as they see Drogon flying low to land; the dragon shifted its body and lowered its left side down a bit to allow Daenerys to climb off.

"Congratulations on your victory, khaleesi," Missandei said warmly.

"Indeed," Daario noted. "Now you've got a fleet and enough men to carry your armies across the Narrow Sea."

Daenerys looked out at Slavers Bay, admiring the sunset beginning to glistening specks of light off the surface of the water. Closing her eyes, she inhaled through her nostrils and out the mouth; finally, Daenerys had acquired an army—Dothraki, Unsullied and Golden Company mercenaries, three dragons—and now had a fleet big enough for the long voyage to begin her conquest to take back the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. All of her 21 years have been living in exile in Essos, often dreaming of one day returning to her homeland and restoring her family to the throne.

"It's finally over," she sounded almost relieved. "We can finally begin what we set out to do."

Connington stood beside her. "Captain Strickland will have his men prep the ships ready for the long voyage. However, their elephants will have to remain here… in the Bay of Dragons. They're excellent beasts. Useful, but not well-suited to long sea voyages."

"They say the Dothraki do not cross an ocean; they believed the world ends there."

"But they will for you."

"That they will. How long will it take for us to reach Westeros from here?"

"Given the size of our forces, it'll take time to teach the Dothraki and Unsullied how to sail properly. They'll need training. In hindsight, it would take several months to cross the Narrow Sea from here to get to Westeros."

Daenerys pondered her next move carefully. "Then we'll need to find someone who knows anything about sailing before begin. And there's also the affair of establishing a provisional government in Meereen so the people can rule themselves." She turns to Jorah. "But there is also you. I banished you, yet you came back. And you saved my life. So I can't take you back and I can't send you away."

When she approaches Jorah, he recoils and backs away—still clutching his wrist.

"But you must send me away… for good this time," he says before rolling up his sleeve to reveal the greyscale covering his left forearm.

Daenerys looks at the infection with shock. "Is there a cure?" she asks.

Jorah shook his head. "I don't know," he answers despondently.

"How long does it take?"

"I don't know that either. Both Connington and I got hit with it, though he cut his fingers off before it could spread."

She turns to her senior advisor. "You as well? You healed yourself, but yet you didn't—"

"Khaleesi, please," Jorah interrupted. "I've seen what happens when it goes far enough. I don't blame Connington for doing what he thought was right. After what I did, I… I felt this was punishment. I'll end things before that."

Daenerys begins to cry. "I… I didn't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Connington crossed his arms at the sight of the Dragon Queen expressing genuine remorse for the man who wronged her in somewhat disbelief; yet still, he silently kept his disapprovals to himself. Jorah shook his head again.

"Don't be," he said reassuringly. "All I've ever wanted was to serve you. I love you. I'll always love you. Goodbye, Khaleesi."

"Do not walk away from your Queen, Jorah the Andal!" she shouted after him.

'Foolish girl, don't touch him,' Connington thought in disapproval. 'Touch a man infected with greyscale then the disease will be transmitted to you. And all your goals and ambitions will be for naught.'

"You have not been dismissed," she continued. "You pledged yourself to me. You swore to obey my commands for the rest of your life. Well, I command you to find the cure wherever it is in this world. I command you to heal yourself and then return to me. When I take the Seven Kingdoms… I need you by my side."

Jorah looks at Daenerys in amazement; nodding his head, the former Lord of Bear Island turns to be escorted out of Meereen and take the first ship out of the city-state to wherever it is so he could find a cure for his condition—though he took one more glance behind him before starting off into the wilderness. Connington watched Jorah's departure and felt his left hand twitch; the missing fingers on his hand felt as if they were still there even if they were no longer. He huffed before noticing a cloaked individual approaching.

"Unsullied," he called out.

Grey Worm spun around as did his men, shields up and spears aimed. The intruder stopped and cautiously waved her hands up. Daenerys dried her eyes and turned to them.

"I couldn't help but overhear you needed some assistance with instructing your men how to sail properly," the guest said in a rough feminine voice.

"Who are you?" Grey Worm demanded.

The individual removed the cloak, revealing herself to be Yara Greyjoy. "I'm Yara. Princess Yara of House Greyjoy," she introduced herself, "eldest surviving child of Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands."

In Braavos…

Rushing through the streets and marketplace of Braavos, Arya was on the run. Exhausted and wounded, she had knowingly made herself a target when she refused to assassinate actress Lady Crane via poison. Being hunted by the Waif, Arya reflected on her brief banter with Lady Crane.

"You wouldn't be safe," she told her. "Not while she's looking for me."

"Who?" Crane asked.

"She doesn't have a name."

"Where will you go?"

"Essos is east and Westeros is west. But what's west of Westeros?"

"I don't know."

"Nobody does. That's where all the maps stop."

"The edge of the world, maybe."

"I'd like to see that."

Slowly getting back on her feet, Arya is still afflicted with pain from her stomach where the Waif repeatedly stabbed her. She remains fortunate to fight back and escape; otherwise the Faceless Man assassin would've finished her off. All she had to do now was quickly make it to her hideout before the Waif catches her. Before taking another step forward, Arya spots a trail of blood in an abutting room.

"Lady Crane?" she calls out. "Lady Crane?" she repeats a bit louder.

"If you'd have done your job, she would have died painlessly."

Arya jumped and turned to see the Waif standing in the doorway with a knife. As the Waif slowly approaches with a creepy smile on her face, Arya matches her pace whilst backing away.

"Instead," the Waif continues, "the Many-Faced God was promised a name. He must always receive what is His. You can't change that. I can't change that. No one can. And now He's been promised another name."

Arya turned and ran, leaping out the window onto the streets below before sprinting off. The Waif gives chase, proving herself to be the more agile and precise in her movements—a trained killer zeroing in on a chosen target. Fruits and baskets were knocked over during the pursuit; Arya grunted and held her side painfully as she felt her stitches had reopened. Knowing she would be unable to outrun the Waif, who is closing in on her, Arya barely manages to stay ahead and rolls down a broad flight of stairs which overturned several more baskets of vegetables in the process.

"Ngh!" she hissed through her teeth. "Come on, Arya. Get up. Get up! GET UP!"

Quickly getting back on her feet, Arya flees into an alleyway knowing her hideaway was nearby. Figuring that enough was enough, that she would make a final stand, Arya pressed her left hand against her wound and smeared it against the side of the building, leaving a bloody trail to a doorway. At last, Arya enters a small, dark room lit by a single candle and retrieves Needle from underneath her bedsheet on time as the Waif followed her and shut the door behind her.

"It will all be over soon," she tells Arya. "On your knees or on your feet?"

Arya brandishes Needle and stands her ground.

"Haven't we been through this already? That won't help you."

"You think so? Come try me then."

She didn't need to be told twice. The Waif advances on her target; deciding to utilize the full extent of her Water Dance training, Arya holds Needle up in front of her face, closes her eyes and chops the wax candle in half with one quick slice—plunging the room in total darkness. Steel clashed, shouts hurled before flesh was pierced and silence loomed over the area.

—At the House of Black and White—

The leading Faceless Man Jaqen H'dgar tends to the main hall. Whilst examining the Hall of Faces, he notices a blood trail on the floor leading to one of the columns bearing the faces. To his amazement, Jaqen notices the Waif's bloody face resting in one of the sconces with her eyes gouged out before feeling something sharp poking him in the back. Jaqen turns around to see a furious Arya glaring at him, armed with Needle. Huffing and puffing angrily, she had had enough and confronted her estranged mentor.

"You sent her after me. You told her to kill me. Didn't you?" Arya pressed.

Jaqen remained calm and composed. "Yes, but here you are. And there she is," he replied, his voice uneven. In his eyes, she passed the test to join the Faceless Men before pushing his chest closer against Needle's point. "Finally a girl is no one."

'No. That's it, I'm done. I'm not playing another one of your games, Jaqen; not again. Not after everything you put me through. I am a wolf and will not be afraid,' she spat. "No. A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell… and I'm going home."

Jaqen responds with a nod and a barely perceptible smile. Reassuring her identity and having learned all she needed to know, Arya turns and makes the ultimate decision to leave the House of Black and White and all of Braavos for good. She was now determined to return to Westeros, her home.

"At least the Faceless Men were good for at least something. Swift as a deer; quiet as a shadow; fear cuts deeper than swords," Arya evaluates herself with a smile on her face before stepping foot on a merchant vessel bound for White Harbor. "The world we live in doesn't just let girls decide what they want to be… But I can now. So long as even a single wolf remains alive, the sheep are never safe. Now, I'm going to defend my family."

Chapter End

Author's Note: Hey guys, I had a bit of head start working on this chapter last night and have finished this morning. The Second Siege of Meereen was brought to a swift conclusion; and although Daenerys acquired her ships, it'll take time to teach the Dothraki and Unsullied to sail them properly—but that is only until she settles things in Meereen first and the Dragon Queen meeting Yara Greyjoy for the first time. Think this'll be a somewhat beneficial alliance, knowing that Yara wants something in return? Find out next time.

Arya Stark completes her training with the Faceless Man, then straight up rage quits and is on her way back home to Winterfell. Think she'll still play a large role in the Great War? Let me know.

jojoboy914: Would this mean that Daveth would be King of the North due to his marriage with Sansa. I imagine that there are still many northerners who recognize Daveth as the benevolent ruler fit for them to follow. Looking forward to how this would play out when the Great War begins

—It would be similar to Renly Baratheon's nickname "The King in Highgarden" due to his marriage to Margaery Tyrell; since Daveth Baratheon is married to Sansa Stark, it would be fitting that another of his nicknames would include "The King in Winterfell" (not to be confused with the Kings in the North during the North's time as an independent kingdom).

Tohka123: Really enjoyable, keep up the hard work

Guest #1: I'm excited whenever new chapter comes out

C.E.W: So now Daenerys has dealt with her enemies in Slaver's Bay and is soon to meet with Yara Greyjoy. There's no point for Yara to ask for the Iron Independence as there is no Iron Islands now are nothing but barren wasteland. So Yara will want vengeance upon Daveth for killing her family, turning her brother against her and destroying her home and people. Regardless any enemy of Daveth is a friend of Daenerys I suppose.

Arya is going home, no doubt her family is going be asking questions on where she has been since she has been missing more like two years.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

—Thanks

FrostedFlakes1305: Why do I get the distinct feeling that Arya doesn't like Daveth. Also is Daveth friends with Jon?

—So long as he treats her sister right, Arya begrudgingly puts up with him. But I'd also like to point out that Daveth is friends with Robb, and Jon has been moved further away at a different spot at Winterfell by you-know-who - so no.

Hear My Fury: Well Dany you're screwed by not bringing the elephants. With Yara about to meet Daenerys it seems like Euron will now be a third party in the next war. Which now will probably not be called Daenerys' conquest of Westeros but probably The War of Stags, Dragons and Krakens?

Bad Ass Female Fighter: Daveth is gonna have more suit to deal with, Euron, Daenerys, AND the White Walkers! Best of luck to you Oathkeeper, have fun.

God of war: So in the next chapters will be the show down between dnAryes and deavth

joharasbel: good work

—Thanks

Bio RL: I hope Arya's departure is punished

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Chapter 868 - njj

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