At the Red Keep…
King Daveth I Baratheon strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, accompanied by his advisors from the Small Council: Varys, Oberyn Martell, Pycelle, Barristan Selmy, Tyrion Lannister and Randyll Tarly. Each of them had been conveying their most recent reports, from economic growth to law enforcement to military affairs; it's been a rather trifling day for the Young Stag as he not too recently just came back from the Tower of the Hand—a requested meeting with his grandfather and Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister. In his hands was a load of documents and other records given to him by his uncle Tyrion—insisting that it was of upmost importance.
"Embezzlement, unwarranted borrowing… To think that all of this had been going on behind our backs for years and almost none of us even knew about it until just recently," Daveth mused. "Would someone care to explain to me how this crucial information like this slipped through our fingers?"
"I'm afraid that no man can be in all rooms at all times, Your Grace," Varys pointed out. "I have many little birds, but even they cannot simple pick up a scent or sing songs as fast as one might hope."
The Young Stag sighed. "Every paper, every coin… everything leaves a trail that leads to somebody. Although I'm pleased the Master of Coin brought this urgent matter to my attention, it disappoints me that it took so long."
Tyrion noticed. "A trail? My dear nephew—"
"You will refer to him as 'Your Grace', not 'nephew', Imp," Randyll chided.
"His Grace knows I meant no disrespect, Lord Tarly," he corrected himself. "I only meant that such misuse of the crown's finances often warrant a thorough investigation, lest our enemies at home and abroad will no doubt see what had transpired."
Oberyn chimed in. "There is also the issue of the disappearances around Flea Bottom. Where it was once the poorest of slums now rose to be more pleasant and livable, fear now grips the district. The common folk are afraid to even leave their homes for they think they too would be next."
"And as Master of Laws, that would mean if someone of high or lowborn origins is indeed responsible for both these events and moved with such subtlety they would be criminally prosecuted and be at risk of forfeiture if not face the King's Justice first," Daveth concluded.
"Um, uh, a-a disturbing case to follow," Pycelle spoke up, clinking his chain with each step. "Unsightly. But might I recommend caution, Your Grace? I-if someone was indeed responsible, and they ha-had influential patrons, then th-the further repercussions—"
"Being too cautious during my absence allowed these incidents to spread like wildfire; yet if we move too impulsively then we risk alerting the perpetrator. Solve one problem, another pops up. We'll have to be rather discreet if we are to keep the king's peace."
Randyll decided to include another matter. "There is something else. We received a raven bearing message from Ser Alliser Thorne of the Night's Watch, says it's about the savages beyond the Wall."
"The wildlings?"
"Somewhat less wild these days," Varys said. "Seems they've stopped killing each other and started following this King-Beyond-the-Wall."
Daveth shook his head in disbelief. "Seven hells," he cursed with irritation. "First Renly, then Balon Greyjoy, now this… King-Beyond-the-Wall? How many more must we deal with? Did Ser Alliser mention anything else in his report?"
Randyll nodded. "He's asking for more men, weapons and supplies if they are to man the other walls. The other sixteen castles have been abandoned for centuries. Only the Shadow Tower, Castle Black and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea still stand."
"And did the Lord Commander second that notion?"
"Information is rather sketchy, but I'm afraid that Mormont's gone off with a ranging party beyond the Wall and we've heard no word from them since so we cannot say for certain."
Pycelle scoffed. "Eugh, the northerners are a superstitious people."
Daveth shot a quick glance over his shoulder. "Our new Queen is from the North, Pycelle. They are many things, but I fought with them on the field and they're anything but liars. In fact, they are terrible at it."
"Oh, I… I meant no offense, Your Grace—"
"But you did," he interrupted before turning to Randyll. "Our soldiers have fought two wars and are already tending to their fields, gathering the harvests before the crops turn now that winter's come."
Tyrion decided to chime in. "I don't know what to believe, but I've seen the Wall for myself two years ago, Your Grace. And here's a fact for you: the Night's Watch is the only thing that separates us from what lies beyond the Wall."
'Never took you as a military man, uncle. I've seen you fight myself,' Daveth looked at Tyrion. "Then what do you recommend?" he asked.
"Institute a draft from Dorne to Last Heart, a conscription of any able-bodied volunteer and send rations and armaments to the Wall as a show of good faith."
Each step they took down the halls as they continued their conversations, Daveth held one fist to his chin as his eyes examined the documents still in his other. Glancing over the findings Tyrion discovered of embezzlement of the royal treasury and word of a possible wildling attack on the Wall, the Young Stag could hardly shake off a growing headache. Still, Daveth appeared to be deep in thought.
'Queen Alysanne Targaryen financed the Night's Watch re-construction with her own jewels, yet the New Gift's local populace isn't as numerous as it was during the reign of King Jaeherys the Conciliator,' he reflected. 'The wildling raids made supplying the Wall rather difficult, yet…'
"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked again.
Daveth shook his head. "Give the order," he said. "Send word to Lord Jon Umber at Last Hearth and be sure to send a raven to Dragonstone; instruct Lord Stannis that he is to deliver the supplies to Eastwatch by ship."
"And the Flea Bottom activity?"
"Prince Oberyn and I will deal with the matter personally."
Tyrion nodded. "It will be done. Now, onto other important matters—"
Before Tyrion could further continue, around the nearest corner approached Shae and Brienne of Tarth. Judging by the way they were carrying themselves, they had been awaiting the King's arrival for some time and had a look of urgent determination about them.
"Your Grace," Brienne spoke. "Please forgive me for disturbing your day, but I must ask that you come with me at once."
"Whatever it is, Brienne, I—"
"It's your wife."
Daveth stopped mid-sentence and looked at Brienne, lifting an eyebrow as the Kingsguard knight dropped the ball and mentioned Queen Sansa Stark. But the way she spoke of her and the posture she was using, the Young Stag knew that Brienne was not playing games at all. She was deadly serious.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked, a hint of concern noted in his voice. "What happened to Sansa?"
"There's been an incident in Flea Bottom. Some of the City Watch have been slaughtered, Ser Bronn still lives but is recovering. However, Her Grace's direwolf… was found mauled and beheaded."
Daveth frowned and furrowed his brow. He knew of Lady, and how the direwolf had adopted her mistress's dainty manners and trusting nature. Grey fur and yellow eyes, she was the smallest of the litter of pups House Stark discovered two years ago. Daveth managed to save Lady's life back then from Joffrey and his mother and kept her in hiding, yet remained aware of her existence. Each of the direwolves externalized characteristics reflected from their respective masters and symbolized what possible fate laid in waiting.
"There's more," Brienne continued.
Before Daveth could say anything, Brienne pulled the Young Stag close enough to whisper into his ear. Oberyn, Randyll, Tyrion, Pycelle, Barristan and Varys each leaned in—curious as to what the King was being told. They didn't need to say anything else as Daveth's facial expression switched from concern to serious.
"Are you certain?" he whispered.
Brienne nodded. "I swear by the Old Gods and the New," she whispered back affirmatively. "We had a witness who lived long enough to identify the culprit responsible."
Daveth looked back at his advisors. "It appears we'll have to speed things up," he told them. "Gather everyone in the throne room ASAP and begin preparations. Bar the gates to the city, seize every ship in the harbor… No one leaves or enters the capital."
"Nephew—"
"NOW!"
All of the King's advisors, including the very few he trusted, recognized whenever the Young Stag was about to snap. He couldn't encourage such swift action unless he was absolutely certain that something was amiss. Once they were out of sight and out of earshot, Daveth demanded that Brienne take him to Sansa. The Kingsguard obeyed and led him throughout the Red Keep into Maegor's Holdfast, the royal bedchamber where the Wolf Queen was most likely at. The doors to the room were opened and Daveth stepped inside; Sansa laid on her side with her back facing him, Arya Stark and their mother Catelyn soothing her. The faintest sound of sniffing had filled the room, and Daveth made his approach.
"Sansa…" he called out.
Sansa didn't budge, yet only Arya and Catelyn met the King's gaze. They didn't say anything as Catelyn tended to her eldest daughter whilst Arya coldly stared at him. Daveth somehow expected such a reaction from them but entered the room regardless to sit at Sansa's bedside.
"Lady was—" Arya tried to speak but was cut off.
"I know," Daveth said. "Brienne told me everything."
Sansa's eyes were red and puffy; stains stuck her cheeks when she finally shifted her position to look up to meet her husband's gaze. She looked so miserable yet no tears came. Perhaps she had spent them all of her tears for Lady and her father. Daveth hated seeing his wife like this, gently brushing her cheek with his thumb.
"Sansa? Talk to me."
Sansa wiped her eyes with her sleeve, ignoring the sting and redden discomfort. "Your Grace," her voice slightly cracked. "Forgive my appearance. This is… Oh, Gods, this is just hard."
"I understand. I know how much Lady meant to you."
"She was good. My father and brothers found her with six others near Winterfell two years ago," she sniffled quietly. "Lady was so sweet. She didn't bite anyone, never got in the way… she was good. I know you saved her life back at the Crossroads Inn, but…"
"Do you need more time for yourself?"
Sansa shook her head and grasped Daveth's hand in her own. "No," she declined, "please stay."
'Even in grief, she still has a sense of innocence… what's left to salvage,' he thought. "As it pleases you, Your Grace." Daveth squeezed her hand. "Will you be okay?"
Sansa shook her head. "No. But I'll find a way to cope."
"Of course, but understand that you not need to endure it alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me."
Daveth noticed Sansa shifting her position again, thinking that she might turn away from him. He wouldn't blame her after all. To his surprise, however, Sansa slowly pushed herself upwards—keeping one hand firmly on the bed and the other on her pregnant belly, groaning slightly. Arya and Catelyn moved to ensure Sansa wouldn't harm herself given her condition. The Wolf Queen slowly lifted her head up. She looked tired, emotionally worn out and her pregnancy wasn't making it any easier on her. But Daveth looked in her eyes and noticed something else stirring up inside her.
"The gold cloaks, Ser Bronn… they—"
"Bronn will live," he told her. "And we now have a suspect. We know who's behind those disappearances in Flea Bottom."
Arya got in his face. "Who?" she demanded.
"Arya!" Catelyn scolded, pulling her aside.
Daveth remained serious. "Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain," he answered.
The Starks' eyes widened; the Mountain is here in King's Landing? The very same Gregor Clegane whom Daveth bested in the joust during the Hand's Tourney? That towering, lumbering behemoth had been on the run from the law for the past two years and he just happens to waltz right back into the capital without anyone detecting him? Gregor wasn't known as a subtle man and preferred the more brutal, bloody blunt approach. Whoever smuggled him into King's Landing obviously had powerful connections.
"How did—?"
"I have a few theories, but I'll need to verify them with the Master of Laws so as to be certain first. Varys will also have a hand in it. Discreetly."
Catelyn leaned on her son-in-law. "And should they be legitimate?"
Daveth stood up. "Then you're about see why people call me 'Oathkeeper'." He turned back to Sansa. "I won't force you to do anything considering recent events, Sansa. Not unless you're absolutely certain—"
"I am," she replied.
The Young Stag was taken slightly aback by Sansa's bold proclamation; arguably starting off as one of the most naïve of the Stark children and a slow learner when they first met, Sansa had long since progressed into becoming a little cleverer and a little more shrewd under Daveth's tutelage. The Young Stag is still somewhat pleased that despite the hardship she endured, Sansa still maintains some of her prior innocence though not to the same degree as the girl she was after leaving Winterfell so long ago. Even the loss of Lady proved not to be enough to break the Wolf Queen.
"I'm ready."
Daveth nodded, his face still expressing a serious tone as he made his way towards the door.
"What will you do now?" asked Catelyn.
The Young Stag looked over his shoulder to his mother-in-law. "What should have been done a long time ago," he said chilly.
It felt as if the deepest corner of the seven hells would freeze over if the Starks could even comprehend what thoughts lurked in Daveth Baratheon's head. Even his own in-laws felt a chill crawling up and down their spines. As he walked away, eyes full of fiery determination, a faintest possible frowned curled upon the Young Stag's face. Politically risky and one that weighed heavily on his heart and soul, but there was no going back now.
In the throne room…
Cersei Lannister felt pleased with herself. When her handmaiden Bernadette informed her of the direwolf's passing, the Golden Lioness felt a sense of victory landing in the palm of her hands. She had longed to be rid of the beast and inflict emotional torment on the younger, more beautiful, well-loved popular Queen Sansa Stark. She couldn't resist hiding her gleam, even in private; but when she was also informed that there was a summons to attend a public hearing, Cersei allowed herself a moment to attend—interested on what her estranged eldest son had to say.
"One's choice of companion is a curious thing, isn't it, Your Grace?" Petyr inquired.
Cersei scoffed at the notion. "Most curious, Lord Baelish. Look at Lysa Arryn for instance. A sorrily repellent woman."
"Perhaps, but Lysa was a good woman once. A kind woman."
"We both know she was neither of those things," Cersei pointed out. "Still, I pity her son. How fortunate that the young Lord of the Vale has a new father to counsel him. And how unfortunate that such a scandal revolving the Stark Queen would emerge so soon after the King himself returned from the battlefield."
"A long extended period of time spent apart from one another would certainly drive some… to seek the comfort of another," said Petyr.
He was referring to the kiss he had given to Sansa Stark almost yesterday—and the protestations and physical assault that came with it. Still, as much desire as he felt for Sansa since Catelyn angrily renounced all ties with him, the Lord Protector of the Vale shifted his attention from one to another. Cersei, meanwhile, felt this would create a deepening rift that she believed would be enough for Daveth to set Sansa aside.
"Still," he continued, "do you believe it is wise to further provoke the Young Stag? If he were to discover the truth…"
Cersei arrogantly brushed him off. "He will be none the wiser. As distant as we are, I still know my son better than most."
"I would counsel patience, Your Grace."
"'Patience'?" she snapped at him. "I lost everything I had to that girl, Daveth becomes more like Robert with each passing day."
"Yet we all determine our own course once children reach adolescence," Petyr mentioned. "A difficult part of growing up, to be sure, but all children rebel against their parents."
"Forgive me, Lord Baelish, but you have a reputation as a money lender and brothel keeper, not a military man nor a philosopher. The Baratheons are steadfast in pursuing their goals and won't back down."
"But if the royal marriage is annulled, name Sansa Stark as my new bride," Petyr suggested.
Cersei looked at him suspiciously. "I'll speak to my father once this hearing is done. Have him issue a decree."
"I'll not rest until the lion flies over King's Landing."
"And I'll know you're a man of your word when I see the Stark girl gone."
"As I said, Your Grace, I live to serve."
This was a politically risky move on their part, but Cersei Lannister and Petyr Baelish were busy manipulating and using the other for each of their own gains. Cersei wanted the Iron Throne and Petyr wanted Sansa. She yearned for power, the other yearned for one of the most beautiful women for himself. As they finally arrived to the throne room, it was a lively scene.
Lords and ladies had assembled into the room, with banners bearing the sigil of Houses Baratheon, Lannister, Tully, Arryn, Tyrell, Velaryon, Stokeworth and other noble houses of across the land. Lord Yohn Royce represented House Arryn while Lord Robin toured the Vale, the Blackfish represented House Tully while Lord Edmure was away at the Twins. Lord Mace Tyrell and his son Ser Loras and daughter Lady Margaery stood in one of the galleries; the number of courtiers had swelled rapidly upon receiving a royal summons. Among the VIPs, Queen Sansa Stark stood with her mother Catelyn and sister Arya. Cersei noted that they had not noticed her presence—either unaware or ignoring her. Cersei noticed her uncle Ser Kevan Lannister among the crowd.
"There is to be a royal announcement?" she asked.
Kevan nodded. "There is."
Cersei turned to proceed towards the throne, but was stopped by her uncle.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked his niece.
Cersei frowned. "To stand by my son," she answered.
Kevan shook his head. "Your son is in his majority. You will remain here."
Cersei hated being told 'no', especially from members of her own family. Glancing upwards at the Iron Throne, each of the royal councilors: Varys, Oberyn Martell, Pycelle, Barristan Selmy, Tyrion Lannister and Randyll Tarly made their way to the side, with the Hand of the King Lord Tywin Lannister standing in the front. All the murmurs began picking up, more as the courtiers saw King Daveth I Baratheon himself approach the Iron Throne. Eyeing the crowd thoroughly, Daveth sat down on the throne—his hands brazing against the pommel of one of the swords before composing himself.
"Lords and ladies of the court," he announced. "When the realm thrives in times of peace, our houses grows and prospers. When we are faced with war, the chaos of uncertainty and imbalance threatens us all. No doubt many of you still feel the sting of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. Although war abroad has been brought to an end, the same cannot be said of what lurks in the shadows."
Each of the gathering nobles turned to one another, wondering what the King was talking about. What threat? What danger exists that so many are unaware of? Was it the Targaryen girl in Essos? Or something else?
Daveth continued. "Upon further investigation overseen by the Master of Laws, Prince Oberyn of House Martell, it has come to our attention that a traitor walks amongst us."
Gasps were heard, eyes glanced back and forth. What traitor? What was the Oathkeeper walking about? Cersei Lannister delighted at such a scene; like a herd of sheep, they looked as if they were being stalked. A lion doesn't concern themselves with the opinions of the sheep. Petyr Baelish eyed them more closely.
Oberyn Martell cleared his throat. "Bring the prisoner in," he called out.
All eyes turned down the hall to see two gold cloaks bringing Theon Greyjoy into the main hall. Sansa, Arya and Catelyn were stunned. Daveth just agreed to spare his life, so why was he bringing in Theon?
"What the hell?!" Arya yelled.
Catelyn pulled her aside as all eyes glanced on the Starks. Sansa looked momentarily confused, looking at Theon before looking up at Daveth. He noticed this and motioned for her to stay put, giving a 'Trust me' look on his face. Sansa, although not happy with this, reluctantly stood aside. Daveth looked down at Theon.
"Do you know why you were called here?" he asked.
Theon shook his head, noticing the glares around him. "No. You promised me my life if I cooperated, which I did. Yet I'm supposed to believe you intend on keeping your word after dragging me here?"
"How dare you speak to your King in that matter?!" one of the onlookers shouted.
Tywin coolly lifted a hand up, demanding silence. Once it was quiet, the hearing resumed.
"My duty as King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm demand that I act in accordance with the laws of gods and men," Daveth replied. "That I defend the realm from any seeking to harm us and destroy those who betray us."
Theon shrugged. "Then get on with it already," he said finally out of patience.
Cersei found this act amusing, considering the last of the Greyjoys being on trial again. Perhaps she will indeed get to see a Great House wiped out before her very eyes after all.
Daveth glanced down. "As it was in the days of Baelor the Blessed, the Father judges us all. If you break his laws, then you shall be punished accordingly. You stand accused of murder, you stand accused of treason. How do you respond to the charges…" He paused before glancing to his right. "…Lord Baelish? Mother?"
Chapter End
Author's Note: Well, this chapter ended on quite the cliffhanger; the scene is now set for what appears to be the ultimate Game of Thrones showdown in the next chapter. Loyalties are tested, bonds strained… and the Oathkeeper himself now turns his sights towards those he distrusts the most. But what do you guys think? Was it an easy decision to make? And what do you guys believe will happen in a Cersei Lannister – Daveth Baratheon showdown? Thoughts? Let me know.
Fenrir Stark: Great chapter! Good as ever. So if Cersei asks for a trial by combat, it is certain that she will choose Gregor Clegane as her warrior. It would be sensational if Daveth chose Jaime Lannister to fight Gregor Clegane, it would be an irreparable loss to Cersei to the point of leading her to madness, losing her twin brother. It's time for Daveth to be tougher with his mother and have a steel heart.
Kat Morgan: Great for the king to pull the same twist on Cersei that Arya and Sansa pulled on Littlefinger in Winterfell ! Love it! Thank you for sharing!
—You're welcome.
God of war: Will Daveth kill his own mother cercie and Pilash
—Daveth has no qualms killing Baelish, but still finds it difficult with Cersei considering she's his mother. Historically there have been a few monarchs who've done such deeds against their mothers; the most noticeable example was Emperor Nero of the Roman Empire (target: Agrippina the Younger). But we'll see what happens in the next chapter.
Shad0wRider97: An the hammer meets the anvil
—"When I hit that steel, it sings."
Tertius711: Get wrekt Baelish! Get destroyed Cersei!
ALPHAomega239: When will the next chapter be up? Justice for Jon Arryn!
The Three Stoogies: An awesome chapter cant wait to read about about the look on cerise she and balishis face keep up the great work
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks.
DaddyChad: Cersei is doomed, since she can't call Gregor as champion since he is a hunted fugitive and can't call upon Jaime as he is of the Kingsguard.
—Looked over the rules regarding a possible trial by combat scenario and I think that Cersei could still name Gregor Clegane as her champion regardless of his fugitive status; unless I'm proven otherwise. A rather messy practice.
God of war: Will Davied fight the Wildeing army in the north then energies when she will attake Westeros
—One conflict at a time.
chase manaena: this is going to be good cant wait for the next chapter
alexguamenti: Such a good chapter! I can't wait to see where it leads!
The Last Kenpachi: Daaaamn! He got them! Wait... SHIT, EVERYONE GRAB EARPLUGS!
12345678910: I love it so much amazing work hope you update again soon
Guest #1: It'd be a shame if someone were to ban trial by combat...
—Not quite there yet.
FireheartNinja: Insert that "ohhhhh" gif. I was like that during the show lol
LunaEvanna Longbottom: Karma by any other name would taste just as sweetMe, just now
10868letsgo: YES, oh yes! Guilty on both accounts by Cersei Lannister and Peytr Baelish. Great Chapter.
Supremus85: The law is clear, trial by combat is due; and Gregor Clegane is a difficult champion to defeat; less so, Lyn Corbray, who is not so easy, however. Daveth stands no chance against Gregor, theonly ones which could beat him are Oberyn Martell, if he keeps his head cool, Jamie Lannister, and Barristan Selmy.
GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: Ohohohooo, this cliffhanger was so good, I thought for sure it was Theon's trial but you used the scene of when Sansa made it into Baelish's. Now the tables have turned and the trial is on him AND his mother. Love to see the looks on their faces, it be priceless.
mpowers045: You're using that part from season 7 huh? You sly dog you
—Guilty.
We are Venom: Finally it's about time Littlefinger and Cersei pay for their crimes.
Can't wait to see what happens next.
Magi Tail Welkin: The next chapter is going to be interesting.
Wouldn't be surprise if we get a third Great Council in the aftermath of this. Maybe even a Trial by Seven.
As a small question, are we going to get a mention of any House from Crackclaw Point? As direct vassals of the Crown in the Crownlands no doubt they would have members in court. And as they are mostly of First Men descent who would be side with, since as Dick Crabb in A Feast of the Crows, the populations were Targaryen loyalists. I imagine they've be most independent and isolationist since Robert's Rebellion.
—I'll do some research into noble houses from Crackclaw Point. Once I learn more about them, I might add some mentions.
Hear My Fury: YES! YES YES YES! Thank you so much! Oh, don't even give either of them a fighting chance! No Trial by combat for them!
—No promises.
Memnon45: YES! Please get the next chapter out as quick as you can, finally Cercei and Baelish are gonna get what's coming to them justice will finally be served. I can't wait to read the next chapter.
—I'll try; it took me 2 days to write this.
ZabuzasGirl: AH!
Ok now you have to update another chapter in the same day! AH!
—I'll try; it took me 2 days to write this.