At the Tower of the Hand…
The sun began to set, and the bells began ringing.
Lying on his bed in the Tower of the Hand, Eddard Stark's breathing grew more labored as the days progressed. Grand Maester Pycelle, who was released from solitary confinement, confessed that he was surprised that someone like the Hand of the King had managed to last as long as he did. But Pycelle reported that Eddards' wounds were deep as they were multiple. His wife, Catelyn took Talisa with her and marched to the capital as fast as she heard the news. Even Talisa's treatment could only do so much.
Standing at Eddard's side stood his eldest son Robb, who is visibly devastated that his father was going to die soon. Both Sansa and Arya were weeping as they each held their father's hands in their own. Catelyn tried to put on a stone face for the sake of her children but failed as she silently wept as well.
"My children…" spoke Eddard soft.
"Father," Robb said.
"Father," Sansa and Arya replied, wiping tears from their eyes as more began to pour.
Catelyn took Eddard's wet rag and wiped his brow.
"Ned, my sweet…" her voice trembled.
Eddard coughed and slightly winced in pain. "My time here is done…" he plainly said.
"No, Father," Arya pleaded. "You can't…!"
"Please, Father, please don't leave us!" Sansa sniffled, holding his hand into her own.
"If only will could make it so, my children," Eddard said in comfort. "But I know now it was destined to be this way. I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago. But I kept going for as long as I could for all of you, your brothers, your mother… and the King."
Arya stubbornly shook her head. "That's not fair!"
Robb placed a hand on his youngest sister's shoulder. "Arya," he motioned.
Arya looked at her brother, lowering her head to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. The door to the room then opened, giving a small creaking noise for all to hear. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Eddard looked up to see who it was.
"Your Grace…" Eddard coughed.
The gathered Starks looked to the doorway and saw Daveth standing there, his bandages covering the left side of his face had small stains of dried blood on it. Robb, Sansa, Arya and Catelyn stood but were motioned to remain seated.
"Your Grace," they all greeted grimly.
Daveth still felt the sharp sting near his eye and it pained him sorely. "May I?" he asked.
Catelyn briefly nodded and allowed the Young Stag entry. Daveth slowly made his way forward and looked at Eddard, sitting himself down at the bedside.
"You damned fool," Daveth said.
The Starks looked surprised and visibly upset at that remark, but immediately cooled off once they noticed the seemingly stoic Daveth Baratheon's face and demeanor beginning to crack and display a series of emotion.
"Why?" he beseeched. "Why did you do that?"
Eddard was certain he knew what the Young Stag was referring to. "I made a promise to your father on his deathbed a year ago that I would look after his children; that I would look over and protect you as if you were one of my own. What I did at the Blackwater… it needed to be done. It was the only way to ensure that Robert's last wish was fulfilled," he said hoarsely.
Daveth felt as if the words were stabbing and being twisted in his gut, like a sharpened blade. He couldn't protect Jon Arryn from dying and his watch had ended last year. Now Daveth felt as if he couldn't do anything to prevent Eddard Stark―his Hand, future father-in-law and strongest supporter―from meeting an almost similar fate. Both were good men, and now it appears that the Stark patriarch's watch is coming to an end.
The feeling of helplessness; Daveth utterly hated the manifestation from developing in the pit of his mind. The Young Stag's face scrunched and he felt a lump in his throat.
"Don't blame yourself, my boy," Eddard reassured him. "It's alright. I'll be off to see your father again… with no regrets. Let me remind you of how much you've grown. How you've matured. You've become a good, wise King in your own right, Daveth… whatever differences we might have had, I was proud to serve; you had already surpassed Robert a long time ago."
Daveth shook his head. "My lord―"
"Sometimes we have to look beyond what we want to do what's best, Daveth. It's something I had to learn as Hand of the King."
The Young Stag momentarily broke eye contact, struggling to take in what Eddard was telling him. He didn't want to show weakness in front of anyone, but the more the Quiet Wolf spoke, the harder it was to contain it.
"I know it's not fair," Eddard continued speaking; his voice ached with pain and discomfort, "nothing ever is, nor should I have to ask you of this, but… I can feel it coming. I must ask that you promise me something."
"Anything," Daveth swore.
The Stark patriarch lifted Daveth and Sansa's hands up and brought them together. His breathing was more haggard.
"Take good care… of my daughter Sansa… for me…" Eddard asked. "She has a kind, gentle heart… and she'll need you now more than ever. As her father, I've seen firsthand how Sansa… looks at you. Cherish every moment you have… and know that both of you… have my blessings. My only regret… is that I won't be there to… to attend the wedding. Promise me."
Sansa's lip trembled and she shut her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks as she sobbed once more.
"Father…" she wept.
"I…" Daveth hesitated. "I will. You have my word, Lord Stark."
Eddard allowed himself a smile as Daveth's common phrase was said aloud. Whenever the word was issued, the Oathkeeper never went back on his word and kept his promises.
"There's one more… one more thing," Eddard said. "Something you… need to know…"
He griped Daveth and pulled him close enough to whisper into his ear. Robb, Sansa, Arya and Catelyn couldn't quite make out what Eddard was telling the King, but as Daveth listened for a moment, his face twisted into a mix of discomfort and disgust.
"Are you certain?" he asked quietly.
"Aye," Eddard slowly nodded. "Jon Arryn learned the truth… and now… now you know…"
The Stark patriarch turned to the rest of his family.
"Robb," he called out as his eldest son and heir knelt beside his father. "You remember… our words?"
Robb nodded. "Winter is coming," he said.
"Winter is coming," the Starks repeated.
Eddard motioned Robb towards their ancestral sword, Ice, which stood on the opposite side of the room. Robb went over and picked up, looking back at his father.
"Remember: in the winter… we must protect ourselves, Robb, look after… one another," Eddard continued. "When the snows fall… and the white winds blow, the… the lone wolf dies, but the pack… survives. Once I am gone, Robb, you… are Lord of Winterfell."
Robb grimaced, his facial expression showed emotional hurt; but the Young Wolf was always mindful of his duties and responsibilities.
"I… I understand, Father," Robb acknowledged.
Eddard turned towards Catelyn. "My dearest wife…"
Catelyn held Eddard's hand. "Ned…" she spoke softly.
"I… I'm sorry, my love," Eddard coughed. "Take care of… of Bran and… and Rickon… for me… Tell them… tell them that I… I love them very much. I love all of you…"
"We love you too, Father," Arya whimpered.
"Father," Sansa reciprocated.
Eddard smiled and finally released his grip on Daveth and Sansa's hands. They both jerked to see the Stark patriarch with his eyes closed and was rather unresponsive.
"F-father?" Sansa choked. "Father? FATHER!" she wailed in anguish.
"Father! Please come back, Father! Please!" Arya wailed, struggling to wake Eddard but to no avail.
'The realm loses yet another good man,' Daveth thought. 'And now his watch has ended.'
"Sansa…" he pulled her close.
Not putting up any resistance, Sansa simply buried her head into Daveth's chest, sobbing and weeping over the loss of her father.
It was a sad day in King's Landing, indeed…
######
At the Great Sept of Baelor...
The funeral of Eddard Stark took place at the Great Sept of Baelor several days later. The Silent Sisters tended and prepared the services, Eddard's body laid in state for visitors and prayers to pay their respects to the deceased Hand of the King, which itself was positioned so that his head was pointed towards the statue of the Stranger. The body was displayed atop an altar, changed into formal clothes and his wounds were cleaned up as best as possible. His hands were clasped together over the chest clasping a sword pointing downwards.
King Daveth ordered that Eddard Stark's corpse be returned to Winterfell and buried in the crypts beside his father Rickard, his brother Brandon and his sister Lyanna. The Oathkeeper also ordered that all of his household guards who died in his service defending the city at the Blackwater be returned North and their families compensated for their loyal services.
"You've done my family a kindness, Your Grace," Robb said during the funeral. "The North will remember this generosity."
"And we will never forget, my friend. It's the least I could do," replied Daveth. "The Starks will always be welcomed at court."
The two old friends looked over Eddard's body before the Silent Sisters arrive to take him away to be sent back to the North.
"There is to be an announcement in the throne room this afternoon, Robb. Your presence will be required."
"For what?" he asked.
Daveth turned to Robb. "You'll find out soon enough. I will say this, however: this is not just the end of hard times, but only the beginning. We'll need to get ourselves ready for that."
######
Elsewhere…
Two smallfolk informants meet up with a traveling lord from the Vale. It had become apparent that after the skirmish at the Blackwater was brought to a decisive end, Lady Lysa Arryn finally caved into enough political pressure from both the Crown and House Arryn's vassals to venture to King's Landing to swear fealty.
The loudest voices among them was led by Lord Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone and one of Jon Arryn's most powerful and loyal bannerman. Even Lysa herself knew she could not hold back those demanding her to answer the Oathkeeper's summons, but only on the condition that Robin comes with her under heavy guard as he was the young Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East.
Accompanying Lord Royce and Lady Arryn and Robin was also Lady Anya Waynwood, Lord Gilwood Hunter, Lord Horton Redfort, Lord Benedar Belmore and Ser Vance Corbray. Lysa had not seen Daveth at court for over a year since Jon died, and there was no doubt that there would be simmering tensions once she arrived.
But there was at least one person Lysa dreamt of seeing once she arrived.
"Did you hear?" one of the smallfolk asked.
The other nodded. "I did. The Oathkeeper is making his move."
"Ser Loras made a serious mistake by attacking the capital. Think the King will call for his head?"
"Doubtful. The King's already summoned the Lord of Highgarden to the capital to ransom the Knight of the Flowers himself," the first shook his head. "Ser Loras is in fact the heir to Highgarden and all the Reach. His father will no doubt beg for his son's safe return in exchange for his loyalty… that, and he'll have to pay heavy reparations for his son's actions."
"That I'm certain of. Anyway, did you get what he asked for?"
He nodded. "I did. Be sure 'he' or the widow Arryn doesn't catch wind of it. If they do…"
"I know. It'll be the end of us. Let's send a message to Bodrin."
######
At the Great Hall of the Red Keep…
It was time for the royal announcement. All assembled lords and ladies stood before the Iron Throne as King Daveth I Baratheon stood to hand out rewards to those who aided him during the battle at Blackwater Bay. Lord Petyr Baelish was seen standing in the front row with Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle; the King was furious at him for arranging a secret meeting at the Reach without his knowledge or consent, but the Master of Coin reassured the Oathkeeper that he had managed to send word to the Vale ahead of time – hoping that would be enough to appease him.
"I grow tired of your games, Lord Baelish," he reminded him. "Don't do it again. Or so help me…"
Cersei Lannister was confined to stand at the gallery with the other ladies of the court, along with the freshly widowed Catelyn Stark and her daughters Sansa and Arya; Tyrion Lannister, Bronn, Podrick and Tommen looked on as they watched.
Donning his black armor with the golden crowned stag on his breastplate, Daveth motioned those to come before him. Stannis Baratheon, Edmure Tully, and Robb Stark stood beside each other. Tywin Lannister, meanwhile, rode in on a white horse and assured his dominance by being at the very front of the pack – much to their annoyance.
"I, Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, present the assembled lords and ladies of the court the Four Saviors of the City."
The royal steward stepped forward to hand a scroll to King Daveth. He had a list of names of those whom he planned to award.
"When I call your names, please step forward. Lord Tywin Lannister!"
The Old Lion rode first.
"In the place of the deceased Eddard Stark, who gave his life to protect his King during the Battle of Blackwater Bay, it is the will of the Crown that I hereby appoint my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, as Hand of the King."
A few gasps were heard. They all heard of the Old Lion's ruthless reputation for getting results during his tenure as Hand under the Mad King; some were rather surprised that the Oathkeeper chose to reinstate his grandfather. Others suspected the Young Stag had his reasons for doing so, but chose not to speak. Catelyn felt rather uncomfortable; Cersei, meanwhile, silently nodded her head in approval at her eldest son's choice to name her father to the office.
Daveth motioned the steward forward and placed the badge of office onto a cushion before it was delivered to Lord Tywin himself. He was a cold, grim old man who never smiled. Tywin took the golden Hand brooch once it arrived and bowed when he received it.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Tywin said in a strong low voice and rode out of the throne room.
"Lord Stannis Baratheon," Daveth waved his hand.
Stannis did as he was told, his face still portraying a cold, stern and serious expression.
"In recognition for your loyal service and the vital role you played in putting down the rebellion, I hereby restore your rights of inheritance and grant you our family's ancestral castle of Storm's End with all the attendant lands and incomes of the Stormlands to be held by your sons and grandsons after you from this day until the end of time."
If he was capable of smiling, Stannis would have done so already. The fiery stag Lord of Dragonstone felt he had finally been given the justice that was long denied him.
"Your Grace," Stannis curtly nodded as the new Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands walked out.
"Ser Edmure Tully!"
The heir to Riverrun proudly knelt before the Iron Throne.
"In acknowledgment of House Tully's dutiful service and the generosity of the Riverlands for providing enough crops to the capital so its people could avoid mass starvation, I hereby name you Defender of the Forks and Champion of the Trident."
Edmure nodded gracefully. "You honor us, Your Grace," he said and walked out.
"Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward."
Petyr did as told, kneeling before the Oathkeeper. Somehow his arrangements and secret dealings would provide satisfactory results.
"For your good service and ingenuity of negotiating the end of hostiles between the Crown and the Reach, and for… bringing the Vale back into the fold, I declare you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time."
"You honor me beyond words, Yoru Grace," Petyr replied as he rose to his feet. "I shall have to acquire some sons and grandsons."
This brought forth some laughter from the crowd, and Petyr smirked triumphantly as he returned to his place. Varys, however, did not appreciate this political maneuvering but the look he saw in the Oathkeeper's eyes quietly told him to simply bide his time and bear with it for just a while longer; that the Young Stag knew exactly what he was doing and that he simply needed the eunuch to trust in his judgment.
And lastly, Daveth waved his hand forward.
"Robb Stark!"
The Young Wolf bowed and knelt before the Iron Throne.
"Words alone cannot express of how much the realm mourns the loss of your father, and those in his service who knowingly gave their lives so that we could live," Daveth spoke in a firm yet sympathetic tone. "Had I the power to restore your loved ones to life, I would. But perhaps the Crown can honor House Stark in another way."
Robb lifted his head to look at Daveth.
"Robb Stark, in accordance to the laws of gods and men as well as the rights of inheritance, it is the will of the Crown that I hereby name you Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North."
Catelyn, Sansa and Arya nodded in approval and joined in the applause. Before Robb could stand, Daveth silenced the audience.
"Is there anything else you or your family would ask of your King, Lord Stark? If it is within my power, then I will grant it."
Most in the assembly began chattering amongst themselves; what else could he have to offer? What does the Oathkeeper mean? Even Robb himself was surprised by the sudden offer. As he stood, Robb calmly composed himself.
"Your Grace," he spoke up, glancing at his mother and sisters before returning his gaze to the Iron Throne. "The last time we spoke, it was within the Great Halls of Winterfell back in the North. Our two fathers, yours and mine, fought side-by-side for a very long time and negotiated an agreement last year; one that involved my sister Sansa."
Cersei narrowed her eyes at the Young Wolf suspiciously. She felt her fingers beginning to twitch as she was reminded of what was said in Winterfell back then.
"All men should keep their word, Kings most of all," Robb continued. "On behalf of House Stark and the people of the North, I only ask that you uphold our predecessors' pact of joining our houses."
The assembled courtiers gasped. How boldly the Young Wolf was to "demand" such a request from the Oathkeeper himself in front of everyone like that. Catelyn eyed her daughters, her son and the King. Cersei felt her face forming a rather nasty scowl. Part of her wanted to scream and shouted, but noticed Daveth glancing at the gallery. Sansa leaned forward, fidgeted her fingers. She knew what came next, but she was still nervous in anticipation and waited to hear the reply.
"A sensible request," Daveth announced, glancing at Sansa's direction. "Lord Robb, I will gladly wed your sweet sister. Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell shall be my Queen, and I will love her from this day until my last day. You have my word."
Sansa brightly smiled in relief, yet also full of courtesy and warmth. She could feel eyes upon her as the applause and cheers rose all around them. Catelyn applauded as well, pleased that the promise made was a promise kept. Houses Baratheon and Stark will officially be joined by blood, with her daughter Sansa as Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms and the King Daveth I Baratheon the Oathkeeper will be her son-in-law. Even Arya allowed herself to congratulate her older sister.
"I believe congratulations are in order, my lady," Ariyana Dayne said as she made her approach; behind her stood Brienne of Tarth. Apparently the two had been standing alongside them watching the whole thing take place.
Sansa spun around and nodded slowly. "Thank you. I… I'm very happy."
"And you are?" asked Catelyn suspiciously.
"Ariyana of House Dayne, the Sword of the Morning," she introduced herself, "And this young lady standing behind me is Brienne of Tarth."
"I'm not a lady," Brienne denied.
"The capital is full of liars, Brienne," Ariyana told her. "So best not to give yourself away. Everyone here always believes that they're somehow better than you."
Arya, however, believed they had other reasons for attending the ceremony. "Is there something you're here for?"
Ariyana nodded. "There is," she said as she pulled a letter with sealed in a wax detailing a white falcon on a blue field and handed it to Catelyn. "A few friends of mine have told me to bring this directly to you, Lady Stark."
Chapter End
######
Author's Note: This concludes Season 2 of "Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper." The loss of a Hand, acquiring another, promises kept and plans for the royal wedding is officially underway… What are the contents of this mysterious letter the Dornish woman handed to the widow Stark? Thoughts? Let me know.
Patty 4577: So ends the Battle of the Blackwater. By the way one thing that has me curious is how Daveth feels on Tywin's treatment of Tyrion. Also are you going to have Tywin and Arya have a similar relationship that they had in the show?
―Daveth and Tywin recognize Tyrion's intelligence and political cunning, but I believe he doesn't appreciate the way his grandfather treats his dwarfish uncle. He along with his uncle Jaime, Myrcella and Tommen are the only ones who actually treat Tyrion with respect or kindness instead of being harsh or cruel like his grandfather or mother are towards Tyrion. As for the relationship between Tywin and Arya, I'm sure I can have it being similar to the one they had in the show, yes.
trollzor69: So are the Tyrells going to kill Sansa or is Baelish going try to kill the king
―The Tyrells aren't going to risk going to war against the Oathkeeper again by pulling off a stunt like that; as for Baelish, anything's possible.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter the ned part tears in eyes man. great job and then u had to go a head and end a great chapter with a cliff hanger come on mannnnn, keep up the great work can't wait to read more,
―Thanks.
Oto Mustam: I suppose that Cersei will ask his father to release joffrey ?
―"Her" father, and I believe Cersei will try to persuade Tywin to convince Daveth to pardon Joffrey and allow him to come home; which is quite unlikely since Daveth and Tywin have no regard for Joffrey whatsoever.
mpowers045: LittleFinger doesn't deserve shit! Once Daveth finds out the truth
―All part of the plan, so long as he's incredibly discreet about it. Once Littlefinger slips up, then Daveth will spring the trap.
Guest: great story
―Thanks.
Moshi: You made me cry!
I am biting my nails waiting for Daveth to lay the law down on Lysa & LF, to see what Margaery is up to, to see what will become of Cersei, and the expansion of the mystery of Ariyana (hey, if she belongs to Brandon, just merge the lines.).
―If this chapter can make some readers get hit right in the feels, then that tells me I did it right.