Red Keep ― Small Council chamber...
Daveth felt out of place. He'd been presiding over Small Council meetings in his late father's place for years, and now... Now the Oathkeeper finds himself sitting at the head of the table. Looking at the chair with the Baratheon sigil embroidered onto the leather, Daveth inhales sharply and examines his right hand. His knuckles had been wrapped in bandages and were still sore from losing control of himself, punching the wall after reading Robert's letter. He still didn't understand. Why couldn't Robert have told his son in person? Why hide behind a letter? Why wait until he died to tell Daveth the truth? So many questions, and sadly they'll go unanswered.
"Your Grace," the royal steward spoke up, breaking Daveth's concentration. "Lord Stark and the other councilors are here to see you. The Queen Mother will be attending as well, along with your brother Prince Joffrey."
Daveth remained still. "I see," he said. "Anything else?"
He didn't feel like talking much lately; Daveth attended his father's funeral in the Great Sept of Baelor with his family to say their last goodbyes before sending Robert's body back to Storm's End to be buried as per his final request. The coronation would take place once the Small Council meeting was over; ravens had sent across the Seven Kingdoms bearing the news, and all the noble lords and ladies will assemble at the capital to swear fealty to the new King.
"Preparations have been made for your coronation. We'll begin once you're ready."
"Very well," Daveth nodded. "You are dismissed."
The steward bowed and opened the doors, allowing Eddard Stark, Cersei Lannister, Varys, Petyr Baelish, Joffrey Baratheon, Grand Maester Pycelle and Ser Barristan Selmy inside. The decision to include Barristan in the Small Council meetings surprised many, including Cersei and Barristan himself. When Cersei asked Daveth why, he simply remarked that as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan did have a seat on the council. When it was Barristan's turn to ask, Daveth replied that he promised to bring many changes to court but needed people he could trust to help him. Barristan didn't enjoy politics, but promised to do whatever he could for his former squire.
Cersei walked forward and sat next to Daveth's right, while Eddard was seated to his left.
"My son," Cersei said.
"Mother," Daveth greeted.
"Your Grace," Eddard greeted.
"Lord Stark."
As soon as the others took their seat, Daveth noticed something was out of place... or rather someone, was missing.
"The Master of Laws is not present. Where is uncle Renly?" he asked.
Varys placed his powdered hands inside his cloak and gave him a sorrowful look. "I fear Lord Renly has left the city. He rode through the old gate an hour before dawn with Ser Loras Tyrell and some 50 retainers. Last seen galloping south bound for Storm's End or Highgarden in some haste."
What are you up to, uncle Renly...?
Cersei waved Varys off and spoke firmly. "Does it matter where Renly went? Or his reasons? We are here now, so it's best we get on with it."
"This meeting of the Small Council is now called to order. What do we have for the day?"
"The city mourns the loss of the late King Robert. Preparations have been made for your coronation, Your Grace," Petyr begun. "I've already had several Watchmen stationed at key posts to ensure the king's peace is kept."
"'The king's peace' didn't even save father," Joffrey muttered loudly. "You let them kill our father, Daveth. Your 'wise councilors' can't protect anybody."
Daveth quickly turned to Joffrey. "Watch your tone, Illborn."
Joffrey immediately sneered at his brother. Cersei motioned for her two sons to settle down.
"There is something else," Eddard spoke, drawing out Robert's last letter. "Your father had me record his last words. Ser Barristan and Grand Maester Pycelle stood witness as Robert sealed the letter, to be opened by the council after his death." He turned to Barristan and handed him the paper. "Ser Barristan, I believe no man here could ever question your honor. If you would be so kind?"
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard examined the paper. Daveth, Cersei and Joffrey all eyed the paper. "King Robert's seal," he said. "Unbroken."
"What does it say?" Cersei asked.
Barristan opened the letter and read. "'Lord Eddard Stark is herein reaffirmed as Hand of the King until Robert's eldest son and heir Daveth Baratheon is capable of ruling himself.'"
And as it happens, he will come of age within a month, Eddard thought, but he did not give voice to the thought.
He trusted neither Pycelle nor Varys, and Ser Barristan was honor-bound to protect and defend the young man he considered his new King. The old knight would not abandon Daveth easily. Over the past few months, Daveth told Eddard to tread carefully in King's Landing, keep his counsel and play the game until he could adapt to his new surroundings.
Cersei's face twisted slightly. "May I see that letter, Ser Barristan?"
Barristan hands the Queen Mother the letter; she reads it and looks at Eddard. "'Until he is capable of ruling himself'," she mocked. "Is this meant to be your shield, Lord Stark? A piece of paper?" She places her fingers on each side of the will, ready to shred it before being stopped.
"I'd like to see it," Daveth spoke up.
Cersei's movement ceased as she looked at Daveth; her eldest son looking straight at her, speculating his mother had no intention of honoring Robert's will. "Daveth—" she tried to talk.
"I said, I'd like to see it," he repeated more sternly.
Cersei curled her lips into a scowl, worried what this might mean for her. As all eyes were staring at her, Cersei reluctantly handed her son the paper.
As Daveth read it, he looked at Eddard. "This was father's final request, Lord Stark?"
"It was, Your Grace. He had me write down his command before he died."
Daveth looked at the rest of the Small Council, watching their faces, wondering what thoughts hid behind Pycelle's half-closed eyes, Littlefinger's lazy half-smile, and the nervous flutter of Varys's fingers. He set the paper down and stood up from his seat. "And so shall it be," he begun, standing firm and spoke with authority. "Let it be known to this council that I do hereby acknowledge the final proclamation issued by my father the late King Robert—"
Cersei's and Joffrey's eyes went wide, Pycelle and Petyr Baelish were surprised.
"Brother!" Joffrey shouted.
"Daveth!" Cersei exclaimed.
Daveth immediately raised his hand up, silencing them. "In accordance to his last wish, I shall allow Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, to continue to serve in his capacity as Hand of the King, that he may help me rule wisely and with justice."
There were some muttering, whispers and complaints, but in the end, it came down to a final decision. The Small Council unanimously reaffirmed Eddard's appointment as Hand of the King, while Cersei and Joffrey themselves were excluded since they had no position on the Small Council.
Daveth noticed the look on their faces, how greatly displeased they were, but brushed them off regardless. He didn't care what they had to say to him at this point. Whilst the other councilors congratulated Eddard on his appointment, the Stark patriarch turned to Daveth and told him he made the right decision. Once the meeting was concluded, the coronation was to get underway.
Red Keep ― Throne room...
Sansa, Arya, Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole both stood along the gallery with the other ladies of the court. She was ecstatic for witnessing Daveth's coronation, but felt rather sad once she heard of Robert's death. Sansa remembered the night before...
ooOoo
"My sweet Prince," Sansa spoke softly, her voice as gentle and sweet as a dove. "I heard what happened. Your father, the King... I... I am so sorry."
Daveth sat on the edge his bed, not moving a muscle after Grand Maester Pycelle previously took it upon himself to tend the Oathkeeper's bruised and bloodied hand. He just sat motionless and stared straight out of the window, watching the sun set.
"Can I... can I help you with anything?"
Daveth inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils. "No," he said finally. "You can't."
"I don't know what to say," Sansa tried to get the words out.
"How can you? Does it surprise you that my father, the great King Robert Baratheon, died on a hunting accident because he was too drunk?"
Sansa felt helpless and confused, she wanted to help but didn't know how. From the way Daveth was speaking to her, it's almost as if he could snap at any moment. Sansa heard him exhale again, more quietly this time.
"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... the funeral ceremony ended two weeks ago. Your father will continue to serve as my Hand."
Sansa approached closer, Daveth turned and noticed her pale pastel pink dress, with a flowery ribbon tied in the front and a gilded belt around her waist. Her long auburn hair was brushed until it shone, smooth as silk and was let down. Eyeing her up and down, Daveth speculated it represented personal vulnerability. Sansa placed a delicate hand on Daveth's shoulder; he reached and placed his hand on Sansa's, which still remained on his shoulder.
"If it's not too much to ask, would you... stay with me? At least until the sun goes down?"
Sansa felt her heart ache. She knew her betrothed was in pain and in need of any form of comfort. Since they are to be married soon, Sansa was determined to stand by him.
"Of course, my sweet Prince," Sansa obliged, planting a kiss on Daveth's cheek. "I'm here for you. Whenever you need me."
ooOoo
Sansa looked as Daveth made his way to the Iron Throne. He was wearing a black doublet with golden linen and crimson red sleeves, blank pants, and charcoal-grey boots. Wrapped around him was a red satin cape. Accompanying him down the aisle to his right was Sansa's father, Lord Hand Eddard Stark, and to his left was Queen Mother Cersei Lannister – still frowning over the Stark's recent appointment and her son's apparent defiance.
An old man stood in front of them, wearing a long purple robe and light brown sash around his shoulders embroidered with the seven-pointed star on each side. He was seen holding a golden crown crusted with rubies and black diamonds in both his hands. Sansa deduces that the man was the High Septon, head of the dominant religion of the Seven Kingdoms: the Faith of the Seven. The High Septon held a position of supreme authority within the church and unofficially carries a high degree of social influence.
Arriving at the steps, Eddard and Cersei turned in their respective directions as Daveth stood before the Iron Throne, kneeling before the High Septon with his head leaning downwards. Standing over Daveth, the High Septon held the crown up high. Arrayed in a crescent around the base of the Iron Throne stood all of the assembled knights of the Kingsguard in full armor, enameled golden steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders: Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Lucius Blackmyre, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Boros Blount, and Ser Preston Greenfield.
"My lords and ladies of the court," the High Septon began speaking. "We arrive to witness the ascension of a new King. May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength, that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, She that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk, and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead."
Sansa fidgeted her fingers, watching as the coronation took place. Arya looked bored, with Septa Mordane occasionally pinching the Stark girl to stay awake. Eddard and Cersei watched Daveth being crowned.
Are you watching this wherever you are, Robert? Eddard thought. I promise I'll look after your son.
Cersei remained silent, looking at her eldest son.
"In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." With that, the High Septon gently bestows the golden crown upon Daveth's head. The new King stands and turns to face the audience. "Long may he reign," he declared.
"Long may he reign," everyone in the Great Hall repeated.
Everyone assembled cheered and applauded loudly as Daveth waved to the lords and ladies, none perhaps applauding as loudly as Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen, smiling as their eldest brother was crowned King. Sansa chimed in as well, proud of her Prince—no, her King now!—as Daveth sat down upon the Iron Throne. Sansa fluttered nervously as if she felt she had butterflies in her stomach.
Someday your husband will sit there and you will sit by his side, Sansa remembered Mordane's words. She smiled warmly as the cheers continued to get louder.
10 days later...
Eddard Stark stood beside King Daveth as Pycelle drew a parchment from his sleeve, unrolled it, and began to read a long list of appointments being announced.
"Hmm," Pycelle looked over the paper. "It is His Grace's will that the lands of Sherrer, Mummer's Ford, Fairmarket and Maidenpool, along with the surrounding areas in the Riverlands affected by the actions of Ser Gregor Clegane, be placed under the Crown's protection. Those who were left homeless in the fighting are to have their homes restored. So the Lord Hand has decreed, and the King consents."
Daveth placed his fist against his chin as he sat on the Iron Throne, with Eddard Stark standing beside him as they listened to Pycelle read off the lists.
"In recognition for helping to foil a conspiracy plot against House Marbrand, it is also the wish of His Grace, that the common girl Reina, be at once raised to the rank of Lady and granted the seat of Summerhall, with all its tethered lands and incomes to be held by her sons and grandsons after her until the end of time. So the King has decreed, and the Lord Hand consents."
Sansa had begun spending more time at court since the coronation, often at times hearing soft murmuring from the lords around her and whisperings pouring throughout the city into her room. She caught a glimpse of Reina as the young, uneducated yet skilled commoner made her entrance. The muttering was louder and angrier amongst the lords, though the ladies whispered shocking surprises and bold admiration. Two little boys who must have been her brothers went before her. For her sigil Reina had taken a white basilisk on an orange field.
Within the first ten days of his coronation, King Daveth I Baratheon had already sent a wave of ripple effects throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Determined to bring the realm towards its direction, the Oathkeeper first looked inward and enacted reforms within the court. With his father gone and forbidding his mother from interfering in his affairs, Daveth led negotiations and compromises with the various noble houses of Westeros; yet he still felt that dividing power between him and his Hand would only lead to unnecessary trouble within the Seven Kingdoms. He would bide his time for now before further consolidating his power. Until then, every proposal he made had to be presented to Eddard for review; whether they were accepted or refused or modified depended on what was put on the table.
People near and far watched with interest as the first King of the post-Robert Baratheon age unfolded before their very eyes. Yet only a select few could detect a faint distinct gleam in Daveth's eyes, like that of a lion, sharpening its teeth and claws, ready to strike. As now-Lady Reina departed to take her place at Summerhall, Grand Maester Pycelle resumed.
"Lastly," Pycelle concluded, "in these times of peace and to ensure the proper transition, it is the view of the Small Council that the life and safety of King Daveth the Oathkeeper be of paramount importance. So the Lord Hand has decreed, and the council consents." He looked to the King and Hand.
Daveth stood. "Ser Barristan Selmy."
Ser Barristan had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, as still as any statue, but now he went to one knee and bowed his head.
"Your Grace, I am yours to command."
"Rise, Ser Barristan."
The old knight stood.
"You have served the realm lawfully and faithfully for many years," Daveth said. "Every man, woman and child in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. In light of your service and your many years of dedication and loyalty to the Crown as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, it would please the Crown if you would accept this gift."
Daveth snapped his fingers and two blacksmiths, one of them from Volantis, presented a decorated sword unlike many knights have ever seen before. As Barristan unsheathed the blade, it had a unique design much were familiar. "Valyrian steel, a rare thing to find in the known world. Such materials like these are hard to come by these days. We've decided to name this blade 'Bastion', signifying the ideal embodiment of what the wielder represents, upholds, and defends. No one here is more worthy of this than you, Ser Barristan."
The tall, white-haired knight seemed speechless as he stood there, scarcely breathing. "Your Grace," he said at last. "I fear I... I do not know what to say..."
"I was your squire for several years, Ser Barristan," Daveth's voice was steady, yet carried as sense of gratitude. "I've learned much of being a knight from you. It's only fair that I return the favor by giving you something in return."
Sansa watched as the knight looked up at his new King. She had never seen him like this before, yet here he was.
"Your Grace," Barristan said. "I will not forget this."
Eddard leaned in to whisper his opinion. "That was a nice thing you've done, Your Grace."
"I did what I believed to be right, Lord Stark," Daveth answered.
"Even so, it was well deserved," he replied before noticing Sansa within the assembly. "But the rest will wait for now. Go and take a moment to rest. You've been working yourself ragged every single day."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead."
Eddard shook his head. "We both know you'll need a clear head to lead a kingdom, Your Grace. Don't worry about things here, Daveth. I'll care of the rest for now."
"Fine. But the first sign of something important, I want to know. No exceptions." Daveth stood and stepped from the Iron Throne, accompanied by Ser Barristan and Ser Lucius as they made their way through the crowd. Sansa sees Daveth approaching.
"Your Grace," she curtsied.
"My lady. Will you walk with me?" he asked, courteously offering his arm as a hook.
Sansa smiled and held onto him closely.
Outside...
Daveth and Sansa had walked to the Red Keep's Godswood overlooking the Blackwater Rush, taking in the sights and allowing them a moment's respite. Sansa still had her arm warped around Daveth's arm, the new King staring out into the distance as gulls cawed overhead, the waves crashing against the shore.
"Do you know when we might...?" Sansa asked.
"Patience, little dove," Daveth replied. "It's best not to rush things a bit too quickly. Even the slightest tug could ruin an entire tapestry. It would be easy to tell you too much. However," he said, allowing himself to end Sansa's curiosity, "if it'll satisfy your curiosity, preparations for the royal wedding will begin once you've... you know, had your blood."
Sansa had blushed bright red in embarrassment when she was reminded of that word again. In the 'general Westerosi perspective,' girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would be considered perverse to bed them. The bedding had seemed wonderfully wicked exciting when Sansa was younger, but now as she matures and learns more of court intrigue the more she blushed. "I promise I'll be a good wife," she spoke, her cheeks still flushed.
"I'm sure you will," Daveth said.
"I hope I don't prove a disappointment to you."
"You haven't yet, but the potential is there. For both sides," he reminded her. "For years I've seen what my father did to mother when they were together. The lies, deception, abuse, and infidelities..."
Sansa's face changed when Daveth told her everything about what King Robert did when he was married to Queen Cersei. Especially how he remembered every exact detail of what his father did during that time.
"I decided that day... I am not going to be like the man father was to mother; no, I will not. I'll forge my own path; I will not be that kind of person to whoever I was promised to."
Sansa felt bad after learning more of Daveth's childhood involving Robert and Cersei's unhappy marriage and placed her hand on Daveth's. So that explains why her betrothed is so determined to be a different kind of man in his own right! "You're not like him," she said after a moment of silence, her voice as soft as a breeze and just as tender.
Daveth looked at Sansa, looking down at her hand entangled with his own before returning to meet her gaze. He swore he saw an almost longing look in her blue eyes. The Oathkeeper didn't understand what propelled him to do what he did, but he found himself brushing back Sansa's hair, cupped her cheek and leaned in to press his lips against hers. Sansa's eyes widened in surprise but did not resist and kissed him back.
Gods, I will cherish this moment with my beloved King, Sansa thought, allowing herself to be swept away in this tender moment.
The two were unaware that a pair of eyes was glued to them.
Elsewhere...
"Did you hear?" one of the smallfolk whispered.
Another nodded. "Yeah, I did."
"So it's true then."
"War seems likely. What do we do?"
"I've got friends in the capital. We could have 'em relay our findings to the Oathkeeper."
"Whatever you do, best do it fast. Before it's too late."
Chapter End
Author's Note: With Chapter 17 done, this concludes Season 1. Sansa and Daveth appear to be getting closer. Season 2 will begin in the next chapter and will introduce both old and new characters that weren't presented earlier. And what of the anonymous people spying on the new King and his betrothed? Or the smallfolk talking to each other? Find out next time when the beginning of Season 2 begins.
Oto Mustam: nice chapter ! just a question, the age to no longer have a regent is not 16 in feudalism?
―In the medieval world of Westeros, the legal age of adulthood is 16 in the novels but was increased to 18 in the HBO TV series. If we're talking about real life 15th century feudalism, then the age to no longer require a regent would be 18 when the monarch would be old enough to take over. The legal age of adulthood in Game of Thrones tend to differ among the sexes, however. I swear I recall studying a history course about Medieval England back in college.
Patty 4577: Please have Daveth send Joffrey to the wall.
―I've been getting a lot of requests from other readers asking me to do that. Daveth will decide Joffrey's fate in a few chapters.
C.E.W: Daveth has become the new king in his father's place, and will aim to restore the damages to treasury his father caused. He will also seek to restore order to the Seven Kingdoms. Renly Baratheon means to rebel against Daveth, he'll move to rally the Stormlands and the Reach with marriage to House Tyrell of Highgarden. Mace Tyrell just might agree if it means his line becomes royalty through Margaery Tyrell. It may cause a divide in the Stormlands to those loyal to Daveth and those to Renly, but with Randyll Tarly at Renly's side, he might be able to subdue them. Stannis Baratheon although rarely capable of compassion, he is a loyal and honorable man and so far the story shows no indication of ill will bared against Daveth. Unless Melisandre finds a way to corrupt him, she might appeal to his sense of justice against the corruption caused mainly by the Lannisters, justice he knew Daveth would be reluctant to deliver considering he has Lannister blood in him. Balon Greyjoy with Robert Baratheon dead, and the Seven Kingdoms divided, will mean to rebel against the Iron Throne.
―Very analytical my head started to hurt.
I read fanon wiki on Daveth, and I think if Joffrey orders Janos Slynt to massacre children in King's Landing. Have Janos beheaded before the city walls, his role in the Night's Watch is not that important, all he does is make bad remarks about Jon and gets executed for defiance. Have Janos beheaded to help make the people happy, and Joffrey flagged and exiled to the Wall.
―I'll think about it.
chase manaena: this is so good cant wait for the next chapter update as soon as you can
―Will do.
Vulcran Stormlade: Is the stag being golden on Daveth's sigil a way to remind people he has Lannister blood? Just something I've wondered? Also Daveth is doing better with Sansa than Joffrey did not though that isn't much of complement since Joffrey treated her like trash.
―You're half right with Daveth's sigil being gold instead of black serving as a reminder to people that he's half-Lannister; the other half is that Daveth customized his own personal sigil when he earned the famous "Oathkeeper" reputation and when House Baratheon of King's Landing gradually split into two factions when his political power and influence grew at a very fast rate: instead of the traditional black stag on a gold field, Daveth instead chose to reverse the Baratheon colors to depict a gold stag on a black field. This pragmatic move tells us that Daveth is driven by his desire to be a different kind of man than his father was and to forge his own path. Much comparing the banners of Houses Targaryen and Blackfyre.
―Daveth treating Sansa so well stems from what he repeatedly saw what his father was doing to his mother every single time: domestic violence, marital infidelities, fathering a lot of bastards... Daveth didn't want to be like that. He HATED it, and learned the difference between right and wrong at a very young age.
Guest: longue vie aux stark
―If the proper translation means "Long live Stark", then yes; Eddard Stark lives and becomes Daveth's regent until he turns 18.
GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: what schemes will Cersei play, hope you don't have joffrey marry Margeary as he's not a pure Baratheon and could show some madness.
―Daveth'll keep a close eye on both his mother and Joffrey; have no fear, Daveth knows what kind of person Joffrey is (he kept calling him "Illborn" whenever he stepped out of line) and believes him to be much worse than the Mad King. He'll also try to seek to negotiate a deal with House Tyrell whilst also reminding them not to be too greedy because Daveth won't tolerate that. "You ever heard The Rains of Castamere?"