Author's Note: Hey guys. Before I begin into this story I'd like to say I've been receiving a lot of feedback regarding Joffrey's fate and Daveth's relationship with Cersei. Needless to say, most were pleased that Daveth exiled Joffrey to the Wall and were wondering how his relationship with his mother's going to turn out now that things have gone sour between the two. Any other questions left in the reviews will be answered in a few chapters, so hang in tight.
Character Ages:
―Wilas Redwyne: 47
―Podrick Payne: 16
######
At the Red Keep…
King Daveth, Eddard, Ser Barristan, Ser Lucius and Tyrion all readied themselves for battle. Eddard assembled his entire household guard as Daveth had finished putting on the last of his armor while Tyrion himself was getting fitted for battle. His squire, Podrick Payne, fastened the last buckle on the Imp's Lannister armor.
"You remind me so much of your father, Your Grace," Eddard commented.
Daveth looked at his Hand. "I'll take that as a compliment, Lord Stark."
Varys soon arrived with a detailed map of the Red Keep.
"The map you asked for," announced the eunuch.
Eddard looked closely. "There must be 20 miles of tunnels beneath the city."
"50, actually," Varys pointed out. "The Targaryens built this city to withstand a siege and to provide escape if necessary."
"I've no intention of escaping," Daveth said. "King's Landing is my home. I was born here. And I'll fight with everything I've got to ensure it remains standing."
"And if the ship goes down, we'll go with her," Tyrion remarked humorously.
Eddard didn't find any jokes amusing at the moment. The siege was about to begin momentarily.
"I'm sure many captains say the same while their ship is afloat," Lucius said.
Daveth shook his head, and turned his attention to his officers.
"All right. You remember the plan. You all know what we're up against. We're outnumbered, but Ser Loras Tyrell is blinded with vengeance. He's bound to make a mistake. When you see an opening, you take it. But don't do anything reckless during the battle. Hold them back until reinforcements arrive."
All nodded and made their way to the Mud Gate. Once down past the Great Hall, a voice called out for them.
"Father! Your Grace!"
Daveth and Eddard turned to see Sansa, Arya and Shae coming from behind to see them off. They had been singing in the sept all morning since the first report of enemy sails reached the castle. The sound of their voices mingled with the whicker of horses, the clank of steel, and the groaning hinges of the great bronze gates to make a strange and fearful music. In the sept they sing for the Mother's mercy but on the walls it's the Warrior they pray to, and all in silence.
"Sansa? Arya?" Eddard said surprised as both his daughters hugged him. "What are you two doing here? You should be with the other highborn ladies in Maegor's Holdfast."
"The Queen Mother sent for us to see King Daveth off," Sansa answered.
Arya rolled her eyes in annoyance. "To see both of you off," she corrected.
"Of course she did," Daveth shrugged. "Still, I agree with your Father that you two should be safe in Maegor's so long as the plan goes accordingly."
"Why can't I come help?" Arya demanded. "I've gotten good with—"
"Arya!" Eddard barked. "My answer is still 'no'! You're my daughters and I will not allow any harm to come to you."
Arya diverted her eyes in disappointment, grumbling quietly so as not to be heard.
"I will pray for your safe return, Father," Sansa said worryingly. "And you, Your Grace."
Both Eddard and Daveth nodded as Tyrion and Shae had their own tender moment.
"Stay safe, my lady," Tyrion said.
"And you, my lion," Shae reciprocated.
Ser Barristan and Ser Lucius motioned to King Daveth and Eddard Stark. "Your Grace. Lord Hand. It's time."
"Understood," Eddard said. "Your Grace."
"I know," Daveth replied.
Shae had already escorted Arya back to Maegor's Holfast. But before Eddard and Daveth could leave, the Oathkeeper felt a slight tug on his arm. He looked over his shoulder to see Sansa holding onto him.
"Daveth," she spoke innocently, full of worry. "Where will you be…?"
He didn't like distractions, but knowing it could possibly be their last chance to talk…
"Your Father and I will be in the vanguard where the fighting is thickest," he said.
That didn't seem to make her feel better. "Then―"
"Don't worry, little dove. It'll be all right, I'm certain of it."
Sansa steadily loosened her grip on his arm, but to her surprise Daveth took her hand into his own.
"When the fighting is done, we can proceed with the royal wedding. One you've always wanted," Daveth promised her, "Everything will be exactly the way it should be."
Sansa felt her spirit lift a bit, allowing a brief smile.
"Just promise me one thing," she asked.
"What is it?"
"Promise… promise me you and Father will come back safely."
Daveth frowned and diverted his eyes briefly; he didn't want to make promises he couldn't be able to keep. This was considered a minor skirmish against insurgents still loyal to his late traitorous uncle Renly Baratheon commanded by his lover Loras Tyrell. The Tyrell host commanded 28,000 men and a few dozen ships.
"I can't promise anything," he said finally, "but I'll see what I can do."
Daveth placed one finger under Sansa's chin, tipped her face up to face his. Sansa looked her at betrothed. Not knowing what drove him during that brief moment, Daveth captured Sansa's lips in a kiss. His was gentle, undemanding, asking only for what Sansa was willing to give. She didn't hesitate to reply. The Stark maiden closed her eyes as she felt tears welling up and placed her hands on Daveth's shoulders, pouring every ounce of emotion she had into such an act of affection. She was going to cherish every detail and hold it close to her heart.
Eddard watched the two as Ser Barristan and Ser Lucius had already left to the battlements. In his heart the Stark patriarch knew and had seen how much his eldest daughter matured into a young woman in her own right since they arrived in King's Landing last year when he accepted the late King Robert Baratheon's offer to be Hand of the King and marry his daughter to Robert's eldest son and heir; Eddard, in his own way, was somehow reminded of his own wife Catelyn. Sansa greatly resembled her mother, inheriting Cat's rich autumn auburn hair and deep Tully blue eyes. She had longed surpassed her in terms of beauty a long time ago when Eddard wasn't looking.
And yet somehow, it made him feel sad. Eddard no longer saw a little girl standing before him but a young woman. He never got the chance to thank his long departed friend Robert for making a smart arrangement to wed their children.
'If only you could see them now, Robert,' Eddard thought.
Sansa and Daveth pulled away, taking a moment to catch their breath.
"Come back to me," Sansa asked.
Daveth gave a slow nod. "You have my word," he promised.
Daveth pulled away from Sansa's grip and marched onto the battlements with Eddard. Sansa stayed behind, watching her father and betrothed. She crossed her fingers and felt her lip quiver with fear and worry. Shae came back to retrieve Sansa.
"Some of those boys will never come back," she said.
Sansa shook her head. "Gods, please let my Father and beloved Daveth return."
Shae couldn't help but feel her own heart ache in sympathy. "Shh. Come, my lady."
She took Sansa by the hand and escorted her back to Maegor's Holdfast, where they would gather with the other highborn ladies along with Queen Mother Cersei Lannister to wait out the storm raging outside.
'Gentle Mother, font of mercy,' Sansa prayed silently, 'save our sons from war, we pray; stay the swords and stay the arrows; let them know a better day. Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray; soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.'
######
Within the Blackwater Bay…
Blackwater Bay was rough and choppy, whitecaps everywhere. Queen of Thornes rode the flood tide, her sail cracking and snapping at each shift of wind. Defender of the March and Reach Marshal sailed beside her, no more than twenty yards between their hulls. The soldiers of House Redywne knew how to keep a line. Ser Loras took pride in that.
Across the sea worhorns boomed like the calls of monstrous sea serpents, repeated ship to ship.
"Bring down the sail!" called out Ser Wilas Redwyne. "Lower mast! Oarsmen to your oars!"
The deck of Queen of Thrones churned as crewmen ran to their ranks, pushing through the soldiers who always seemed to be in the way no matter where they stood. He decreed that they would enter the river on oars alone, so as not to expose their sails to the scorpions and spitfires on the walls of King's Landing.
The warhorns sounded again, commands drifting back from the Defender of the March.
"Out oars," he shouted again. "Form line!"
A hundred blades dipped down into the water as the oarmaster's drum began to boom. The sound was like the beating of a great slow heart, and the oars moved at every stroke, a hundred men pulling as one.
With twice as many ships as the Oathkeeper, Ser Wilas believed there was no need for caution or deceptive tactics. He organized the small fraction of the Redwwne Fleet into ten lines of battle, each of ten to fifteen ships. The first two lines would sweep up the river to engage and destroy Daveth's little fleet. Those that followed would land companies of archers and spearmen beneath the city walls, and only then join the fight on the river. The smaller, slower ships to the rear would ferry over the main part of Loras's host from the south bank.
"This will be much easier than I thought," Loras spoke with confidence.
His men were taking in the Knight of the Flowers' confidence and combat prowess. The young heir to Highgarden and the former Lord Commander of Renly Baratheon's Kingsguard was still one of the most skilled knights in all of Westeros, despite losing twice to Daveth Baratheon and Brienne of Tarth individually. Privately, however, Loras's confident smirk turned into a frown.
"Perhaps a bit too easy…"
Beyond the line of warships, Loras could see the Red Keep upon Aegon's High Hill against darkened skies as the moonlight shone bright, with the mouth of the Blackwater Rush opening out below. Across the river the south shore was black with men and horses, stirring like angry ants as they caught sight of the approaching ships. Wooden spike barricades had been set along the shore and further outwards to impede the approach of invading troops and ground their rowboats. Trumpets sounded from among them, tiny and brazen, soon swallowed by the roar of a thousand shouts.
######
At the Red Keep's battlements…
"Lord Stannis is on his way with the fleet, Your Grace," Ser Lucius informed.
Daveth nodded. "Good. Have the men ready for the first wave," he commanded before turning to a Lannister archer. "Captain, get your archers into position and await my command."
The Captain nodded. "Archers! On me!"
*DISTANT DRUMS BEAT!*
*DISTANT DRUMS BEAT!*
"Why aren't they here?" asked Lancel. "The fleet should have been here right now."
"We're extremely busy at the moment, Cousin," interjected Tyrion.
Eddard turned to his host. "Tomard, Cayn. Gather the others and have them assembled with the soldiers at the Mud Gate."
"Yes, my lord," they both replied and rushed with the Stark household guards. "Ser Barristan, be sure to remain by His Grace's side."
Barristan nodded in acknowledgment as the old knight stood alongside Daveth, who in turn nodded at his post.
"Clegane," Daveth motioned to Sandor. "Get your men ready. You'll be leading the first group of men. Do not let a single one of Loras's troops past that gate. Ser Lancel, go with him."
"So long as I have people to kill," Sandor replied gruffly, gathering his blade and menacing looking hound helmet. Lancel followed not too far behind.
"Uncle Tyrion, has your sellsword been properly assigned to his post?"
Tyrion nodded. "Don't fret, Nephew. Bronn knows a siege better than most of us here. Well, except perhaps Ned Stark. Once I give the signal, Bronn will light the fire."
"What fire?" Eddard asked.
On cue, Wisdom Hallyne made his way up the steps and handed Daveth a lit torch. As the Young Stag handed it to Tyrion, that's when Eddard realized what they were up to as a rather small boat oozing green substance into the water came into view. He recognized that substance anywhere, but wasn't informed of the plot himself.
"Wildfire?" he said surprised. "Your Grace—!"
"Calm yourself, Ned," Daveth said. "Once the Knight of the Flowers's ships are within range, Tyrion will give the signal allowing Bronn to fire a flaming arrow onto that vessel," he points to the boat. "The wildfire stored onboard will be ignited by the arrow and trigger an explosion that should devastate much of Loras's fleet. He will then have no choice but to launch a costly ground offensive, though our own defenses will take a decisive hit as well once they reach our shores."
"And then?"
Daveth turned to face Eddard. "And then we rain fire down upon them."
######
Inside Maegor's Holdfast…
Inside the castle-within-a-castle, Sansa, Arya and Shae were gathered with the other highborn ladies. Individually they could hear sniffling, whimpers and murmuring among those in attendance. Some had even brought their children, babies even.
"I should be out there with Father," Arya complained. A bit frustrated, a bit worried. "Yet we're confined here with Cersei."
"She hates me," Sansa added. "She hates us both."
"Less than she hates everyone else in the south."
"I doubt it."
Shae shook her head. "Perhaps she's simply jealous of you."
Sansa looked rather perplexed. "Why would she be jealous of me?" she asked confused.
Before Shae could open her mouth, Cersei Lannister sat on the other side of the room with Tommen sitting beside her. Her gown was crimson satin with gold linings, the traditional colors of House Lannister. Masses of blonde hair had been tied into a pony tail which was kept around one side of her shoulder, but there were points of color on her cheeks.
"Sansa," Cersei observed. "I was wondering where our little dove had flown. You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?"
Sansa felt her cheeks redden, half in embarrassment and humiliation. Cersei was quite drunk, Sansa could determine that much. She heard gossip that the Queen Mother had gotten into a very heated argument after Joffrey was exiled to the Wall a couple days ago.
"You leave her alone!" shouted Arya, earning her Cersei's ire.
"Arya!" Sansa hushed before returning her gaze to her soon-to-be mother-in-law. "It is, Your Grace."
"Fitting, isn't it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed in here," she mocked as she twirled her cup. Cersei grabbed another cup and held it out. "Pour Lady Sansa some wine."
"I'm not thirsty, Your Grace," Sansa politely declined.
"So? I didn't offer you water."
Sansa sat beside Cersei and reluctantly accepted the cup, not wanting to risk antagonizing her any further. The Stark maiden took a small sip, familiarizing herself with the taste once again. She hadn't had some wine since her first date with Daveth near the banks of the Trident she had almost forgotten.
"Won't your guards protect us?" she asked.
The Queen Mother gave a sideways look. "And who will protect us from my guards? Loyal sellswords are rare as virgin whores. If the battle is lost, my guards will trip on those crimson cloaks in their haste to rip them off. They'll steal what they can and flee, along with the serving men, washerwomen, and stableboys, all out to save their own worthless hides."
"True knights would never harm women and children."
The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them. Cersei seemed to find that quite amusing.
"'True knights'. Huh! Why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long before my son fulfills your every desire. More wine."
Another steward poured Sansa a second cup; she didn't want to drink this stuff, but found herself doing so anyway.
'Gods be good, never let me have to swallow this stuff during a siege,' Sansa thought as she felt the wine pour down her throat. The wine was strong and sweet, and Sansa felt her head start to spin.
"Not like that. Drink, girl," Cersei demanded.
######
Back outside…
Daveth Baratheon had been narrowing his eyes, scanning the open waters of the Blackwater. The fog made it difficult to see. After nearly an hour, he final spots the Redwyne Fleet approaching.
"There they are!" he shouted.
Men began scrambling and shouting.
"Archers to their marks," Eddard commanded.
"Archers, to your marks!"
"Archers!"
Eddard shouted once more, "Nock your arrows!"
"Nock arrows!" a soldier shouted.
"Hold fast!" Daveth shouted.
"Hold fast!" another soldier answered.
Lancel started looking a little worried. "Your Grace? Shouldn't we—?"
Daveth whipped around to stare Lancel down. "I said, hold fast."
Eddard continued barking orders. "Get the boulders ready, and hold fast!"
"Boulders ready!" a soldier shouted.
"Hold fast!" another soldier answered.
######
Outside the Blackwater…
Aboard the Queen of Thornes, Ser Wilas Redwyne looked into the distance of the Blackwater, finally noticing a small boat coming his way.
"Archers, stand to!" he commanded.
"Man the below!" another troop hollered.
"Nock!"
"Nock and set!"
"Draw!" Wilas shouted, but paused. "Hold."
"Hold!"
Wilas made his way further to the side of the deck of the ship, taking a much closer look at the smaller vessel sailing past them. To the Redwyne captain's surprise, Wilas saw no one.
"There's no one on board," he realized. It was at that moment when Wilas finally realize the green substance pouring into the water. "Wildfire," he grimaced as he tasted a trap.
Burning pitch was one thing, wildfire quite another. Evil stuff, and well-nigh unquenchable. Smother it under a cloak and the cloak took fire; slap at a fleck of it with your palm and your hand was aflame. "Piss on wildfire and your cock burns off," old seamen liked to say. Ser Wilas had seen the Mad King's use of wildfire to execute his prisoners twenty years ago and hoped not to see it again; but alas, it was far too late.
"Steer clear! Steer clear!" Wilas warned.
The small boat carrying the wildfire had sailed its way to the center of the Redwyne Fleet. Men-at-arms were scrambling on the Queen of Thorne's deck, trying to steer the fleet into different directions. From atop the Red Keep's battlements, a torch was seen being thrown off the edge following a whooshing noise.
*WHOOOSH!*
Ser Wilas looked up and noticed a flaming arrow flying overhead towards the boat. As it landed, the wildfire shot up and spread from ship to ship throughout the Redwyne Fleet.
"ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON SHIP—!"
*BOOM!*
A flash of green lit up the night from the Blackwater Rush to the Red Keep's battlements; Ser Wilas was thrown overboard due to the impact of the explosion. And with the small boat being so close to the center, it cause a chain reaction as it resulted in several other explosions that could be seen as far as the main warship Defender of the March. Although some of the ships were able to turn away, they were not fast enough to evade the wildfire. Screams, wails, shouts and shrieks filled the air.
Aboard the Defender of the March, Loras looked at the devastation. He knew the Oathkeeper was tough, but he hadn't expected Daveth to deploy the use of wildfire.
"All those people, my men…" he said before snarling at his captains. "Prepare a landing party. We're not that far from the main gates and the Oathkeeper played his little trick."
"Ser Loras…"
"He knows he could only use it once," he finished. "If we push to the Mud Gate before their archers inflict serious damage, we can end this in one swift stroke. We've still got the numbers, they don't."
Loras Tyrell strode towards the netting at the side of the Defender of the March and threw down the ladders to the rowboats below before turning to rally his troops.
"All of you assembled still feel the sting of loss as I have; our true King, Renly Baratheon, was killed by our enemies over there! Gaze upon the Oathkeeper and his men, but do not fear them! Today we march on King's Landing and avenge the death of King Renly! But most of all, we send a strong message that we have not forgotten this heinous crime and bring down the tyranny of the Black Lion and his Lannister lackeys!"
The men all raised their weapons and cheered loudly, as Loras climbed overboard and began descending into the rowboats. Soon enough his army were rowing towards the shore.
######
Back inside Maegor's Holdfast…
Cersei beckoned for another cup of wine for herself, a golden vintage from the Arbor, fruity and rich. She was drinking heavily, but the wine only seemed to make her more beautiful; her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes had a bright, feverish heat to them as she looked down the hall.
Cersei looked at Sansa who was seen holding hands with the other highborn ladies, eyes closed and heads down in prayer. Somehow it seemed to irritate her.
"Sansa," she called out, "come here, little dove."
Sansa opened her eyes and obeyed Cersei's call.
"Your Grace," she politely curtseyed.
"What are you doing?" Cersei asks rather drunk.
"Praying," Sansa answered.
"You think you're so perfect, aren't you?" Cersei scowled. "'Praying'. Did you use that to seduce my eldest son? Did you pray that Daveth would turn against me?"
Sansa's eyes widened and blushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger.
"I-I… I have done no such thing, Your Grace," Sansa stammered trying to keep her emotions in check. "I only—"
"Tell me," she interrupted. "What exactly are you actually praying for?"
Sansa steadied herself. "For the Gods to have mercy on us all, of course."
Cersei raised an eyebrow. "Oh. On all of us?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Sansa nodded.
"Even me?"
Sansa felt the pit of her stomach turn, understanding what Daveth told her about Cersei's change in behavior meant. Regardless, the Stark maiden reminded herself of her manners as a lady and bit her tongue.
"Of course, Your Grace," she finally said.
"Even Daveth?"
Sansa replied without hesitation. "With all my heart. Daveth is my—"
"Oh, shut up, you little fool," Cersei said rather rudely. "I see the way you look at him, and how he looks at you. 'Praying to the Gods to have mercy on us all.' You pray for my son simply because he treats you so sweetly?"
Arya had enough of Cersei's insults. "Seven hells, forgive me, but you Your Grace are a bitch. A cruel, cruel bitch! Why must you always be a stuck-up, short-sighted bitch?"
Everyone in the room was horrified by Arya's outburst, even Sansa. Cersei did not appreciate the Stark girl's slurs hurled at her.
"The Gods have no mercy. That's why they're Gods," Cersei ignored her. "My Father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother died thirty-three years ago, you see. I didn't really understand the concept of death back then, the finality of it. But I thought that if I prayed very, very hard, the Gods would return my mother to me. I was four years old."
Sansa was rather surprised. "Your father doesn't believe in the Gods?" she asked.
Cersei shook her head. "He believes in them, he just doesn't like them very much."
The Lioness looked over the other highborn ladies in attendance.
"I should have been born a man," she said scornfully. "Jaime once told me that he only feels truly alive in battle and in bed. I'd rather face 1,000 swords than be shut up inside with this flock of frightened hens."
"Well at least we agree on something," commented Arya sarcastically.
Sansa shook her head. "But these are your guests under your protection. You asked them here."
"It was expected of me, as it will be of you if you ever become Daveth's Queen," Cersei retorted. "If my eldest son, your bloody father and my wretched brother should somehow prevail out there, then these hens will graciously return to their husbands' cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits and some may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection."
"And if the city should fall?"
"You'd like to see that happen wouldn't you?" Cersei leaned in, not bothering to wait for a reply. "The Red Keep should hold for a time, long enough for me to go to the walls and yield to Ser Loras Tyrell in person. That will spare us the worst. If it were anyone else outside those gates, I might have hoped for a private audience. But the Knight of the Flowers's blood is running high and he won't stop until he has Daveth's head on a platter. I'd have a better chance of seducing his bannermen, considering he's a known degenerate and pillow-biter."
Sansa couldn't believe her ears, neither could Arya. Both of their faces were equally masked with shock at what Cersei had just described about what would occur if King's Landing were to ever fall to an invading force.
"Did I shock you, little dove? Tears, humph!" Cersei laughed mockingly, sipping her wine. "The woman's weapon, whereas a man's weapon is a sword. And that tells us all you need to know, doesn't it?"
"Men must be brave," said Sansa. "They ride out and fight terrible people trying to kill you…"
Cersei studied the wives, daughter, and mothers who filled the benches. "Tears aren't a woman's only weapon. The best one lies between your legs. Learn how to use it."
Sansa was horrified and sipped her wine rather quickly, trying to shake Cersei's thoughts from her mind. She tried to think of one of Daveth's lessons.
"Don't try to be a Queen like mother," Sansa remembered Daveth telling her one day. "If you are ever to become Queen, then learn how to adapt to your new surroundings. You will no doubt face hardship in your life, little dove, as we all do, but I believe with enough practice you could be a Queen I know you can be. Learn how to be one in your own right."
Sansa put her cup down as Cersei continued.
"Do you have any notion of what happens when a city is sacked?" she asked.
Sansa shook her head.
"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Cersei continued mocking her. "If Maegor's Holdfast should fall before Loras comes up, why then, most of these fine women should be in for a bit of rape, I'd say. Half of them will have bastards in their bellies come the morning. You'll be glad of your red flower then. When a man's blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you will look very, very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten. And you should never rule out mutilation, torture, and murder at times like these."
"Daveth would never let that happen to us," Sansa proclaimed. "Our Father would never let that happen."
Cersei frowned. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Our Father fought two wars," Arya pointed out confidently. "This one's gonna be no different than any of the rest!"
Sansa shook her head and placed her cup of wine down, deciding not to further add more fuel to the fire – but she is certain that she will have a word with Daveth about Cersei's drunken ranting when this is over; if this is over. Her head was already spinning from the wine consumption, but it helped take her mind off the events taking place outside.
The door opened, revealing Ser Lancel Lannister.
"Your Grace!" he panted.
Cersei looked at her cousin. "What news?"
"His Grace has set the river afire. Hundreds of ships are burning, maybe more. But…" he leaned in to whisper quietly. "Ser Loras and his troops have landed outside the city walls with 14,000 men to mount an aggressive charge."
"Where is Daveth?" she asked.
"He's on the field of battle holding the Mud Gate with Lord Stark and his Kingsguard. They're putting up a strong defense, but their numbers were cut in half from 9,000 to 4,500 and are steadily dropping."
Cersei narrowed her eyes. "Bring him back inside at once."
Lancel looked surprise. "But, Your Grace…"
"What?"
"The King's presence is good for morale."
"Bring him back to his chambers now."
"But I…"
"NOW!"
######
Outside the Red Keep…
*CLASH!*
*SWISH!*
*CLANG!*
*SLASH!*
"Gah! Seven hells, what a stubborn bunch!" Daveth panted.
*THRUST!*
*PIERCE!*
*SWING!*
*SLASH!*
Wielding his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer, the Young Stag's body was fueled by raging levels of adrenaline. Spinning, twisting and turning, he parried and countered each strike aimed at him and cut down most Tyrell soldiers. But the fighting had been going on for hours and Daveth's party of Lannister soldiers were reduced by half. The Knight of the Flowers had clearly been preparing for this moment and his men were seen coming from seemingly every direction at once. They pulled back to regroup and prepared to charge again.
Eddard Stark, wielding his family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword Ice, swung with quick precision and took down his fair share of soldiers intending to breach the Mud Gate. Alongside him was Ser Barristan Selmy, the old knight lending his 40 years of battlefield experience to aid the Hand of the King and the Oathkeeper.
*SWING!*
*SLASH!*
*PARRY!*
*THRUST!*
*CLANG!*
*SLASH!*
"Give them no quarter!" shouted Ser Lucius to his exhausted men. The Old Bull wielded a spike club and swung with such power.
*SWING!*
*BAM!*
*POW!*
*CLASH!*
*CRUNCH!*
Lucius, battered and bruised, swung his spiked club directly against the skull of the enemy soldier in front of him with tremendous force that it caved in the parietal bone, killing the man instantaneously. Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Meryn Trant stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind King Daveth, making sure that no one tried to outflank the Young Stag as Eddard guarded the left with Barristan and Lucius guarded the right.
"Stand your ground! Don't let any of them through!" Eddard rallied, pulling Ice from one of the enemy soldier's corpse.
*CLASH!*
*SWING!*
*SLASH!*
*THRUST!*
*CLANG!*
*PARRY!*
*SLASH!*
Steel clashed, shields were smashed against the others'. Daveth Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Barristan Selmy and Lucius Blackmyre stood in a circular formation; each of them mirroring each other's movements; yet the prolonged hours of fighting was taking its toll. They were showing signs of exhaustion.
"This is… not looking good," Barristan panted.
Lucius wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. "Ser Loras Tyrell is… tough, but a boy is… still a boy."
Daveth looked at his surroundings. The shore was littered with dozens, if not hundreds of bodies of his own men. Arrows were still flying overhead and stones were being dropped. Although they were successful in wiping out most of the rebel Redywne Fleet, Ser Loras Tyrell still outnumbered him and was beginning to mobilize his forces for another offense. At that moment, a weary Daveth saw Lancel returning from the Red Keep.
"Your Grace," he spoke. "The Queen Mother has sent me to bring you back to the Red Keep."
Daveth was incensed by this sudden request from his mother. "You're telling me that my own mother is demanding that I abandon my own men, Ser Lancel?"
Lancel stammered. "She was rather insistent—"
"No."
"But, Your Grace…"
*BAM!*
Daveth didn't give Lancel a moment to reply. He reared his head back and quickly brought it down with enough momentum to head-butt Lancel right in the face. The Lannister felt his feet give out from under him and fell to the ground, shouting as he brought both hands to cover his bloody nose.
"In case you had forgotten, we are in the midst of battle! To simply have me recalled to the Red Keep would seriously damage troop morale, jeopardize our position and undermine our efforts to hold the line! If you cannot perform your sworn duties as a knight, then you are of no use to me. I cannot stomach the presence of imbeciles, especially those who can't think for themselves."
Lancel slowly staggered to his feet.
"Now," Daveth said more calmly, "be a good soldier and relay my answer to the Queen Mother. Now."
Not wanting to provoke the Oathkeeper, Lancel, still holding his nose, humiliatingly left to give Cersei the King's answer. As the city's defenders were on their knees and backs pressed against the gate, bloodied, bruised and exhausted, a messenger quickly arrived to the field.
"Your Grace! I bring news! Our scouts report that our allies have been seen marching past Rosby! Reinforcements are inbound!" the messenger reported.
Daveth looked at what was left of his men, all were bloodied, wounded, tired or dead. Things were getting rather desperate, and everyone came to the same conclusion: this fight was to the death.
"Then we make our stand here," Daveth announced. "Men, form up. Men! Gather 'round."
Tired and wounded, the remaining Lannister soldiers, City Watchmen and several Kingsguard knights gathered around their King. Daveth briefly closed his eyes and inhaled before exhaling through his nostrils.
"Look across the shores, men," Daveth pointed to the approaching enemy troops. "You know what we face. We're outnumbered, we're tired, and we're surrounded on all sides. You know it, I know it, they know it. But this is bigger than their hate… their treason. They've come to take away your homes, your families, your very lives. But we are saying 'no'! We didn't want this, but they've forced our hand. They don't get to decide our fate! We do! No one has the right to take that away from us! The time has come to seize the opportunity laid bare before us and put an end to these sycophants!"
One by one, the city's defenders rose to their feet and gathered around the King.
"We must hold the line as long as it takes until reinforcements arrive! But remember this: win or lose, know that it has been my proudest honor to fight alongside you as your King. Every single one of you here represents the new generation of heroes in your own right! We make it through this, drinks are on me. OURS IS THE FURY!" rallied the Oathkeeper, raising his sword up high as he recited the words of House Baratheon.
"Ours is the Fury!" his soldiers cheered loudly.
"Oathkeeper! Oathkeeper! Oathkeeper!" they began chanting.
Renewed with a sense of hope and empowered with purpose, the last remaining defenders quickly rallied to King Daveth's side and prepared themselves for a final stand as the enemy began charging into view, with Ser Loras Tyrell himself riding into battle. Shields were raised, swords and spears pointed forward, and the Baratheon host stood their ground; readying themselves to take the hit.
######
Back inside Maegor's Holdfast…
When Ser Lancel Lannister told Cersei Lannister that Daveth had refused her summons, she turned her empty wine cup. Lancel's face was soaked with the blood seeping from his nose. When he had arrived in the hall, the sight of him made some of the guests scream.
"Where is my son?" Cersei demanded.
Lancel shook his head. "Outside the Mud Gate with all that's left of his men. He still intends to fight and is determined to see it through to the end."
"Bring him inside now."
"No!" Lancel was so angry he forgot to keep his voice down. Heads turned toward them as he shouted, "We'll have the Mud Gate all over again. Let him stay where he is, he's the King―"
"He is still my son!" Cersei rose to her feet. "You claim to be a Lannister as I am, Cousin? Then prove it. Bring Daveth back inside NOW!"
"Now you listen to me―!" Lancel shouted.
*BAM!*
Cersei slammed her open palm into his face. Lancel cried out in pain as the Queen Mother left the room with Tommen in tow. She spared Sansa and Arya not so much as a glance. Several women and their children were crying.
Sansa felt she had to do something and rose to her feet.
"Don't be afraid," she tried to reassure them. "The Queen Mother has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place we can be."
One of the women, a wife of a lesser lord, began demanding answers. "What's happened? What did the Lannister boy mean? Is the Oathkeeper hurt? Is the city about to fall?"
"Tell us!" someone else shouted.
Sansa calmly raised her hands for quiet. "His Grace, King Daveth Baratheon the Oathkeeper is not hurt. He's fighting bravely out there to protect us. His knights are down there with him. My Father, the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, is down there with him as well. Ser Barristan the Bold is with him. Ser Lucius the Bull is with him," she tried to soothe them. "Together they will save the city. Shall we sing them a hymn?"
One by one, the ladies slowly gathered around Sansa Stark. Steadying herself and taking a deep breath, Sansa started to sing.
Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day.
As soon as the Stark maiden sang, her sister Arya, her handmaiden Shae and the rest of the highborn ladies found themselves joining in to sing in unison.
Gentle Mother, strength of women,
Help our daughters through this fray.
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder way.
Gentle Mother, font of mercy
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day.
In the midst of their hymn, Sansa felt worried about the safety of both her father and Daveth as combatant noises were faintly heard outside.
'Please remember your promise to come back,' thought Sansa.
######
Back outside…
*CLASH!*
*SWING!*
*THRUST!*
*SWISH!*
*SLASH!*
*PIERCE!*
Eddard Stark, Lucius Blackmyre and Barristan Selmy were fighting overwhelming numbers. Ten, fifteen and twenty fell in battle for every one of their own that also fell.
*SLASH!*
*THRUST!*
*PIERCE!*
*SWING!*
Eddard received a wound in his right leg when one of the Tyrell soldiers stabbed him from behind and looked as if he could barely stand; Ser Lucius sustained multiple stab wounds but refused to go down as he provided cover for the Hand of the King. Tyrion struggled to hold his own against a simple soldier, but was saved by his squire Pod. Ser Barristan himself earned several scratches, but was surprisingly able to hold his own. The old knight looked to his left and he saw both King Daveth I Baratheon and Ser Loras Tyrell battling each other in a vicious one-on-one fight, bringing forth old memories of how Robert Baratheon faced off against Prince Rhaegar Targaryen during the Battle of the Trident all those years ago.
*CLASH!*
*PARRY!*
*THRUST!*
*SLASH!*
Daveth and Loras were locked in a bitter duel, each seeking to outmaneuver the other as their blades clashed.
*SWISH!*
*THRUST!*
*SWING!*
*PARRY!*
*SLASH!*
*PARRY!*
"Oathkeeper," Loras strained. "Somehow I guess we both knew it would come to this. When we competed in the joust, there was a look in your eye that I couldn't quite make out. No matter; all of this started because of you! Renly died because of you!"
"I'M not the one who whispered such poisonous ideas into my Uncle's head nor did I turn one family against another, pillow biter!" shouted Daveth. "You two started a war of your own volition and now I'm going to finish it!"
*THRUST!*
*CLANG!*
*PARRY!*
*SWISH!*
*SLASH!*
*THRUST!*
Loras brought his blade down, but Daveth deflected it with Stormbringer. The Oathkeeper thrusted forward, but was brushed aside by the Knight of the Flowers.
*CLASH!*
*SLASH!*
*PARRY!*
*SWISH!*
*THRUST!*
Both young men rushed each other and swung their swords, the two flashing sparks as their blades collided. Ser Loras was able to kick Daveth hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. The Young Stag managed to regain his balance fast enough to backhand Loras across the face when he charged at him; returning the combatants back to square one. As more of Loras's men came pouring onto the field, Loras took advantage and knock Daveth backwards before grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it at the Oathkeeper's face.
Daveth shouted as sand got into his eyes. Temporarily blinded, he kept his distance from Loras as the Knight of the Flowers pressed the attack. Swing after swing, blow after blow, Daveth found himself being pushed back as he struggled to regain his vision. Every time he blinked it caused him discomfort. Then…
*SLASH!*
"GAHH!" Daveth shouted.
Loras managed to draw first blood, slashing Daveth across the side of his face and left a vertical scar which ran above and below his left eye; blood began trickling down his face. Loras felt rather pleased with himself.
"So you do bleed, Oathkeeper."
"Protect the King!" shouted Ser Meryn.
The Kingsguard knights heard the call and were rushing to aid King Daveth, but each of their respective paths were blocked by more than a dozen of Loras's men. Ser Mandon Moore was surrounded on all sides and was cut down. Eddard saw the struggle taking place and forced himself to his feet.
"No, I made a promise to Robert…" Eddard groaned in pain.
'Take care of my children for me,' Robert's last words repeatedly rung through his head.
The Stark patriarch and Hand of the King, wielding Ice in both hands, boldly charged through the enemy blockade in an attempt to reach Daveth.
*SLASH!*
*SWING!*
*PIERCE!*
*SWISH!*
*THRUST!*
Sustaining one set of deep wounds that were being inflicted on him after another, exhausted the Stark patriarch managed to carve an opening and forced his way through – allowing the other Kingsguard knights Ser Lucius and Ser Barristan to follow suit.
"Protect the King!" they shouted.
More and more of the Knight of the Flowers' men charged from all directions, inflicting a series of stabbings to the three men. Although Lucius and Barristan were able to take down their assailants, Eddard Stark slumped forward and collapsed before Daveth's feet as Ice slipped from his grasp.
Daveth, holding one side of his face with his left hand, opened his right eye to see the number of people risking their lives for him. Memories of the events that took place at Lannisport years ago were triggered and a sudden wave of emotion came rushing back to him all at once. Lowering his left hand back to his grip, the Young Stag got back to his feet and bellowed out a ferocious roar.
"NED! A'OOOOWAAAAAH!"
*SWING!*
*SLASH!*
*CLANG!*
*BASH!*
*BAM!*
*THRUST!*
*SWISH!*
*CLANG!*
*SLASH!*
*BAM!*
*BASH!*
Startled by this sudden display of power, Ser Loras Tyrell moved to quickly parry, but Daveth Baratheon forced him back. The Oathkeeper's stored and suppressed fury exploded as he quickly gained the upper hand. Witnessing the legendary Baratheon rage being unleashed firsthand and now finding himself the one on the defense, Loras held up his sword to protect himself every time Daveth brought Stormbringer down with each swing, each blow stronger than the one before. Blow after blow, Loras fell backwards and was gradually being forced to his knees to support himself as Stormbringer came crashing down; the Valyrian steel sword eventually shattered Loras's blade in two before Daveth shifted his position and swung Stormbringer upwards.
*SLASH!*
"Gragh!" Loras shouted as Daveth inflicted a savage wound across Loras's face.
Now disarmed and at Daveth's mercy, Loras winced in pain as Daveth stood over him with Stormbringer being pointed at the tip of his nose.
"Go on," Loras challenged. "Do it. Give the order. Kill me, just as you did Stannis with Renly."
*WARHORNS BLOWING!*
After a brief moment of pause and noticing in the distance hundreds of thousands of cavalry came into view, Daveth regained control of himself as he saw banners of House Stark including a rather large direwolf, the banners of House Lannister led by his grandfather Lord Tywin, and those of House Tully being more noticeably visible as Stannis Baratheon's fleet led by Fury arrived to bombard the rebel host by sea. Northmen, Rivermen and Westermen carved their way forward to ensnare the now-panicking rebels.
"No," Daveth said calmly. "You're more useful to me alive, Loras Tyrell. We're not doing it your way. Look around you. See this? All of this senseless death and destruction? Is this what you actually wanted?"
Loras looked to see many of his men either trying to flee, being cut down like sheep or surrendering.
"What would Uncle Renly have to say about this?" he asked.
'Renly…' Loras thought, a sharp sting of pain hit his heart as guilt began to gradually overtake him.
Thinking of his deceased lover before the rebellion started, Loras remembered Renly being more complacent about his current standing and being more amiable with his nephew Daveth. Hell, even before all of this started, Loras and Daveth shared a sense of comradery after the joust during the Hand's Tourney. He closed his eyes as tears began spilling down his cheeks, wincing as the injury began to sting him.
"He would not like seeing any of this," spoke Loras, recognizing that their position was lost. "I yield…"
Now finding himself becoming suddenly exhausted, Daveth felt his strength beginning to leave him. Still bleeding from the gash on his face, the Oathkeeper brought his left hand to cover his face as he dropped to one knee as he wearily looked up to see Robb Stark approaching.
"Daveth! Father!" Robb shouted.
######
At the Great Hall, inside Red Keep…
"Mother," Tommen held his mother, the two sat on the Iron Throne.
Cersei hushed him, now having sobered up. "Be calm, my sweet."
"Where's my brother? Is he all right?"
"They're still fighting. No one's going to hurt you. Your big brother will always protect you."
Tommen said nothing as Cersei held him.
"I'll tell you a story," she said. "You know the one about the mother lion and her little cub?"
Tommen nodded.
"They lived in the woods. Yes, my love. In the Kingswood there lived a mother and her cub. She loved him very much. But there were other things that lived in the woods. Evil things."
"Like what?" her youngest child asked.
"Like stags," Cersei replied.
Tommen shook his head. "Stags aren't evil. They only eat grass," he pointed out.
Cersei tried to put on a smile as she rubbed his head. "And wolves," she continued. "He could hear them howling in the night. The little cub was frightened. His mother said, 'You are a lion, my son. You mustn't be afraid. For one day the beasts will ow to you. You will be king. All the stags will bow. All the wolves will bow. The bears in the north and the foxes of the south, all the birds in the sky and the beasts in the see… they will all come to you, little lion, to rest a crown upon your head.'"
She felt her voice beginning to crack slightly.
"And the cub said, 'Will I be strong and fierce like my father?' 'Yes,' said his mother. You will be strong and fierce like your father.'"
Cersei unveiled a small vial, popping the cork off and slowly brought it to Tommen.
"I will keep you safe, my love," she cooed. "I promise you."
As the vial was brought closer to Tommen's lips, the doors to the throne room were brought open. Startled, Cersei stood up and held Tommen close to her. Soldiers came pouring into the throne room, each of them holding up banners of Houses Stark, Lannister, Tully and Baratheon.
Robb Stark and Edmure Tully entered the room, accompanied by Tywin Lannister as he made his way forward.
"Father!" Cersei exclaimed in surprise. She slowly lowered the small vial, its liquid content spilling onto the floor before letting it go. It shattered upon impact.
"The battle is over," Tywin announced. "We have won."
Smiling as a sense of relief fell over her, Cersei hugged Tommen; the boy holding his mother's arm. He briefly pulled away as Sansa and Arya found their way in.
"Robb!" they shouted and ran to embrace their eldest brother.
"By the gods, you two are safe!" Robb said as he hugged Sansa and Arya. "Are you alright?"
Sansa and Arya nodded.
"Brother!" Tommen shouted.
All eyes turned to see Daveth leaning against Ser Barristan, his right arm being carried over his shoulder as he held the side of his face with his left hand. Ser Lucius, Ser Meryn and the remaining Kingsguard accompanied behind him, excluding Ser Mandon who perished in battle. Tyrion, Podrick and Bronn followed suit with Loras Tyrell in chains.
"Robb, Ser Edmure, Grandfather…" Daveth groaned. "You saved me. I am grateful to you all."
Tommen released his grip on his mother and ran down the steps and rushed to hug his eldest brother. He smiled as he looked up but turned into a saddened frown.
"Brother!" Tommen pointed to Daveth's face. "You're hurt!"
Sansa ran to check on him, gasping as she saw her betrothed was wounded.
"My sweet King!" Sansa interjected worriedly. "Look at you…"
"I am fine," Daveth said, motioning for Ser Barristan and Ser Lucius to let him go.
The old knights complied, though were startled when Daveth stumbled a bit – small drops of blood landing on the floor. The Oathkeeper held his arm out, instructing all to stay still as he stood tall again.
Arya, meanwhile, scanned the room. "Where's Father?" she asked.
Both Robb and Daveth closed their eyes and lowered their heads.
"No…" Sansa shook her head, tears welling at the sudden realization. "No, no, no…!"
Arya felt the same and shut her eyes tight. Finally, Sansa fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands as soon as she saw an unconscious Eddard being carried into the nearest room. The Silent Sisters treated him as best as they could, but the maesters informed them all that Eddard was about to succumb to his wounds soon. The Stark patriarch only had a few hours remaining, so if anything was to be said – it would be their last chance to speak to him before he passes.
Although the battle was won, it came at a high price…
Chapter End
######
And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that Lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.
Author's Note: Well, this has now overtaken the Riot of King's Landing chapter as the longest chapter I've written. Took me a day and a half to get it done. Hope I at least met some expectations from those who wanted to see more involvement in the battles that took place. If not, then I tried. Reinforcements did arrive to lift the siege by land and sea, though it was a close call in the end. What do you think? Was the cost too high? Was it worth it? Let me know.
ncisandnarutofan12: Love this story. I'm going to assume that Tywin will probably be hand, seems logical
―This literally took me a really long time to write. Wait and see what's gonna happen next!
kemb92: why didn't eddard tell daveth about his mother's infidelity?
―There will be a flashback moment included to describe the events that transpired during the first year when Ned draws his last breath, including the proof he found.
DaddyChad: "Where's my Brother? Is he all right?"
"They're still fighting. No one's going to hurt you. Your big brother will always protect you"
That part made me immediately cry.. for the fact that Tommen is so worried about his brother that always plays with him and protected him. And for the fact that even when Cersei is pissed at her son, she still trusts in him and has so much faith in him.
―Goes to show how strong the bond between Daveth and his younger siblings Myrcella and Tommen is. Being the oldest, the Young Stag helped raise them since they were little. Cersei, however, although continuing to view Daveth's disagreements as defiance against her, can't deny the fact that the affection he has with Tommen and Myrcella are genuine.
Guest #5: great story
―Thanks.
Fsil: I like the premise and the story so far. One problem for me though is the rather annoying use of the noise words like CLANG or SMASH. They don't add anything and they break the flow of the story. If you want to use sound noises I believe that they work better in sentences. For example, Daveth thrust his sword at Loras but with the ringing clash of metal the knight of flowers parried the blow.
―I'll try to make a note of that next time.
C.E.W: Daveth's victory over Loras and his supporters at the Battle of the Blackwater, his victory on the mainland of Westeros is almost complete. He still needs to ensure the loyality of the Vale, Dorne and the Iron Islands. There is also the coming opposition with his mother Cersei, who desires revenge against him for Myrcella heading to Dorne, and Joffrey's exile. Daveth's future father-in-law and biggest supporter Eddard Stark is dying leaving Robb to become the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He will need a new Hand of the King to help him govern the realm. Robb Stark and Catelyn I suppose will be staying in the North until the wedding between Daveth and Sansa.
―Being militarily minded and a political strategist, Daveth's work is apparently never done. There are no doubt the lords of the Vale would be more than willing to bend the knee and swear fealty; although he'd have to carefully calculate his moves when dealing with Dorne, but Daveth knows the inhabitants of the Iron Islands all too well.
―He's always preparing for the day he'd have to face-off against his own mother, who's own ideals are vastly different from her eldest son's. Cersei overestimates her strengths and doesn't know her own weaknesses; Daveth, on the other hand, knows how to execute a plan and reassess it if hit with an obstacle and how to adapt. Can't wait to see a potential mother vs. son showdown!
―With Ned Stark gone, I agree Daveth will need to select a new Hand of the King to help him govern the realm.
―The North has been one of Daveth's biggest supporters since Lord Eddard Stark was a childhood friend of his father King Robert I Baratheon and is betrothed to marry Ned's eldest daughter. By the rights of inheritance laws Robb will take over his father's responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. He and his mother Catelyn will attend Ned's funeral and the wedding between Daveth and Sansa before returning back to Winterfell.
Guest #4: What do you think about euron show is just a cruel pirate at least for me but book version euron is Antichrist
―Everyone has their own preferences about Euron Greyjoy - both the TV version and his portrayal in the books. I had to take a look at what Euron was like in the books... HOLY CRAP!
Sparky She-Demon: I see Loras either being executed for treason or being forced to take the Black. Margaery I see either being forced to become a Septa or become the wife to someone of Daveth's choosing.
Also monetary restitution from the Tyrell's to the Crown and to the Starks.
Good chapter though.
―I can see the monetary restitution House Tyrell would have to pay to the Crown and House Stark for what Loras did; though the decision of what to do with the Knight of the Flowers himself would be a tough one since he's the heir to the second most powerful family in the realm. Margaery I can see one or two decisions being made for her.
Gilyflower: Lol think it's about time I fav this story
―Thanks!
Guest #3: Margaery CAN be a great Queen but I dont like the Tyrell
―Behind the Tyrell's charitable and poised outer temperament, like the thorny rose of their sigil, the Tyrells are cunning and ruthless - albeit they're more subtle and flexible about it.
Guest #2: Good chapter would you follow the book storyline
―I try to include the TV storyline, but I could add a bit from the book if you'd like.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work
―Will do.
Moshi: DAMNIT! Why does he always have to die?!
―It's not fair, I know.
kira444: These chapters were absolutely amazing. Wonderful job and keep the good work coming! How do you get these chapters out so quickly?
―Thanks. I try to get as much chapters done before I go to work in the afternoon; mostly one at a time before moving on to the next.
GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: he'll take that scar as part of growing up, it is a sad moment for Eddard Stark to die soon. And something tells me, Daveth will have a word with his mother for trying to pull him out of battle when he's trying to be the best king there is
―Every hurt is a lesson; Daveth learns very quickly, but the scar he got will go much deeper. More so since he's had to watch people around him die off. It's going to be a sad chapter tomorrow when Ned Stark dies from the injuries he got trying to save Daveth. But yes, something does tell me that Daveth will have a little one-on-one with Cersei for trying to make him withdraw from the battlefield whilst a siege rages.
Patty 4577: Overall a good chapter. Shame that Ned was killed. But I think he would have preferred it this way. Which means Robb is now Lord of Winterfell and Tywin is the question remains on what Daveth does to twatbeard when he waltz's in and tries to have Daveth set Sansa aside for Margaery?
―Thanks. It was a hard thing to do; Eddard grew up with soldiers his whole life and fought as one. Robb is now the new Lord of Winterfell, yes. But there is no way Daveth will set Sansa aside for someone else considering he's close friends with the Starks. For him to do it would be considered a betrayal. Should anyone try it Daveth'll remind them of their place as he did before.
Guest #1: Don't let Ned die yet..
―Not yet, but it's clear Ned won't survive. He'll share his last words in the next chapter.
Darkcrest27: hoping Daveth didn't will not lose his eye. as I'm hoping you are a better writer than to fall into the cliché I've noticed where almost every story having a true born son of Robert has lost a damn eye
―Don't worry, I'm not that cliché. Daveth still has both his eyes, though Loras's blade came close to taking it. He'll have a nasty vertical scar, but Daveth will still have both his eyes.
Vulcran Stormblade: Well at least this time, he died fighting and not because a spoiled brat wanted to see blood.
―Ned Stark did promise a dying Robert he'd take care of Daveth as if he was his own son.