At the Red Keep…
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."
Daveth stood amongst the invited guests that filled the gardens, watching with pride as Myrcella of House Baratheon and Trystane of House Martell became man and wife. The gathering consisted of his children, his brother, his mother-in-law, both his uncles, the Tyrells, Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand, and a local Septon, Bryndan, was asked to officiate the ceremony. The only person not in attendance was Prince Doran, who was unable to travel due to his gout. He had sent a raven the day before, however, wishing his son and daughter-in-law a life of happiness together.
"My lords and ladies, Your Grace, I now present the Prince and Princess of Dorne, Trystane and Myrcella Martell!"
*APPLAUSE!*
As the party retired to the adjacent feast, Daveth watched Myrcella kiss Trystane's cheek. He had seen his sister this happy in a long time, not since she was a little girl. But the Young Stag resigned himself to the fact that she was now a grown woman...and that the newlyweds would inevitably have to return to Dorne. At least they would be staying in King's Landing for a little longer. Long enough for his now-brother-in-law to nominate someone to take his place as Master of Laws.
"Wook, auntie! Fow you."
Daveth turned in time to see Cassana thrust a white lily into Myrcella's hands and a gushing Myrcella warmly embraces her niece, whispering a thank you into the ear of the young princess.
"Welcome to the family, Princess," Oberyn said.
"Thank you all so much for being here on this special day."
"So," Jaime asked half-jokingly as he sat next to Daveth, "is it still Myrcella Baratheon to you…? Or is it Myrcella Martell?"
The thought made the Young Stag shudder. "That last part just doesn't really roll off the tongue, uncle. But if Myrcella's happy, then I suppose I don't care what she calls herself now."
"He hurts her, I'll break his legs."
"Break his legs, you piss off Dorne. But I suppose I see where you're coming from."
"Do you now? Are you envisioning a future where some young lad whisks Cassana away back to his castle? Oh, and what will Sansa think when Lyonel comes of age and takes a woman to wife?"
"Hey, that's my son and daughter you're talking about," he hissed.
"Seems fatherhood has changed you, Your Grace," Ser Loras chimed in. "For the better, I mean. You seem more… relaxed."
"In a way," Daveth replied. "When you have a wife and children of your own one day, you'll understand what I mean."
The Knight of the Flowers nodded unenthusiastically. "I understand I've got my own wedding coming soon. Ser Kevan tells me that the bride is quite lovely."
'Okay, that sounded very sarcastic – given his… "preferences". Well, best learn to get used to it and make the best of your situation, Ser Loras; even your sister, your father, and Lady Olenna all understand the importance of producing an heir to keep House Tyrell from fading away,' he mentally told him. "She is. Janei is eighteen and I'm sure she will give you many sons in the months and years to come. Tell me, are you looking forward to your wedding?"
"Yes. Very much."
'You are a terrible liar.'
The three turned to see Margaery and Tommen sitting together, the former trading gossip with several of her handmaidens. Even from a distance, Daveth could see what was going on; his sister-in-law Margaery giggling like a schoolgirl, his brother Tommen blushing and scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, the comments about breaking the record. She was bragging about her future husband's libido.
"And I said, 'Darling, surely four times is enough, are you trying to set a new record?' And Tommen says, 'Well, what is the record? I'm sure we can break it.'"
"Your sister seems quite taken with my brother," Daveth said.
"And he with her," Loras agreed. "Marriage agrees with them both. They make quite a pair, don't they?"
"Yes, rather interesting," Jaime chimed in. "Look, Tommen is a good lad. Gullible, yes, but there's not one mean bone in his body. Not one. Even as his uncle, I notice those puppy dog eyes he gives her. I don't want to see him hurt."
"That won't happen, Ser Jaime. I assure you," the Knight of the Flowers replies dismissively.
The Young Stag almost wanted to glare at him. 'I'd hope so for your sake, Ser Loras. If I find out Margaery plans on using my youngest brother like you did Renly, then I'm going to be very angry.'
As the guests enjoyed music, dance and wine, a Lannister guardsman approached the King – leaning forward to whisper into his ear.
"Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace, but there's been a situation in the city that I think urges a moment of your time," he says quietly.
Daveth raised an eyebrow. "What's going on, Lieutenant?" he requests, turning around to face the guard who materialized behind him.
"I don't know for sure, but it seems the Sparrows are on the move. They've broken the High Sparrow out of prison. Commander Duran and the City Watch are waiting for you at the Street of Silk."
Nodding in understanding the severity of the situation, the Young Stag calmly rose from his seat. "I apologize for the inconvenience, my lords and ladies," he said aloud, "but a pressing matter has come demanding my attention. Myrcella, Prince Trystane, I congratulate the two of you on your marriage and give you my blessing."
"Brother?" Myrcella looked surprised.
"Your Grace?" Trystane looked equally surprised as well.
Even the remaining Lannisters and Tyrells began murmuring amongst each other in confusion. With that, the Young Stag left the table and followed the lieutenant out of the garden, leaving the confused guests to talk in hushed whispers and two equally confused children to wonder where their father was going. Catelyn watched Daveth being led away, holding both her grandson and granddaughter close as she felt increasingly suspicious about her son-in-law's activities.
"Daddy?" Cassana piped up.
"Daddy?" Lyonel squeaked.
At the Street of Silk…
"Stay back! Nothing to see here!"
"Everyone return to your homes!"
Commander Duran and a few of his men waited at the Street of Silk, his subordinates moved to keep the crowd at bay. All in all, maintaining order had been easy. Business owners and householders didn't bother to put up any resistance to the new and improved law enforcement, but were quick to notice the King's entourage arriving on the scene. He waited until King Daveth had made his way through the crowd, accompanied by the Lannister guardsman Lieutenant Tyral.
"It's the King," one murmured.
"Seven hells, if the Oathkeeper himself came here then that means something serious must be going on," exclaimed another.
Daveth politely pushed his way past the crowd towards the City Watch – each of them bowed their heads in acknowledgment. "At ease, men," he said. "Commander, Lieutenant Tyral here said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Duran said with a nod. "My apologies for the mess, but it seems these Sparrows are elusive than we thought."
"Give me the overview."
"Looks like these Sparrows had infiltrators of their own. One of them disguised themselves as City Watch before allowing several others inside the barracks. They proceeded to kill our men guarding the High Sparrow's cell to await trial. Slit their throats. By the time we arrived, the High Sparrow escaped to who-knows-where in this city."
"And the culprit?"
"In that building over there, Your Grace," Duran replied, directing at the structure behind him. "We've been holding him for questioning. Gave my men a bit of a fight, he did."
"One man gave six men of the City Watch trouble?"
"It's… rather complicated, I'm afraid."
"How complicated?"
"Well… there's more," he continued. "The man we caught, he says he knows you on a first-name basis."
Daveth looked up, a suspicious look now etched across his face. 'Who among these fanatics knows me? Could be a lie, but…' "Can you give an overall description as to what this man looks like to me?" he requested.
"About two inches shorter than you, blonde sandy hair, green eyes, wore rough-spun robes of dyed black wool fastened around the waist with chains…"
The Young Stag froze at the mere mention. This sounded like someone he knows. "Does he by any chance happen to have hollow cheeks and a gaunt, grey face?" he said abruptly, narrowing his eyes.
Now Duran was curious. "Uhh, yes, Your Grace. Why?" he asked interested.
Daveth felt his hands curling into a tight fist. "Come with me, Commander," he said in a serious tone.
Following the King into the building to where the culprit was being held, a few of the City Watch remained outside near the doorway to stand guard. Once they were inside, Daveth and Duran were led to the holding cells where the culprit behind the High Sparrow's breaking out of prison was held in chains. Duran lit a torch, allowing light into the room – but Daveth's expression darkened when he recognized the chained prisoner in question.
"You…!" Daveth snarled.
"Seven blessings, cousin," the prisoner greeted in a monotone voice. "My apologies for us having to meet again like this."
Duran looked at Daveth. "Your Grace, you know this man?" he asked, confused as to how the King knew this madman.
The Young Stag nodded. "Yes, I do. Lancel Lannister; once squired for my father King Robert – before he became an accomplice in orchestrating his murder five years ago. Although he faced the risk of execution when he assisted Cersei Lannister in committing regicide, he later testified against her and Littlefinger. Lancel was barred from the city afterwards, never to set foot anywhere in King's Landing ever again or he would face the King's Justice."
"Is that so?" the Commander turned to his prisoner, seizing the opportunity to speak up. A faint memory surfaced in his mind. He saw the prisoner testifying against the Queen Mother and the late Lord Baelish. "Lancel Lannister. We've heard a lot about you in the barracks. Looks like you won't be getting off easy this time."
"It's Brother Lancel now," Lancel replied. "We in the Sparrows have longed abandoned our family names."
"It's the same thing, boy. Do you realize much trouble you're in for you've done here?"
"Our divine mandate is clear, Commander. Defend the Faith against acts deemed sinful, smash false idols, flood the gutters with wine, send the godless on the run… and pray for those who have strayed. Like you, cousin."
Both the Young Stag and the Commander stared at him, eyes wide and mouths agape at that remark. Lancel ignored him, continuing to preach as if he were standing on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor.
"It is not too late for you, cousin. Repent for your sins and the Mother will bless you with Her mercy. She will forgive you as She's forgiven me. She helped me find peace in the light of the Seven, finding a new sense of purpose with the High Sparrow's guidance. Join us and we will defend the Faith together. It'll be just like old times—"
"It will never be like old times and you know it, Lancel. I swore if I ever saw you in my city again, I'd cut you in half," Daveth spat. "You wronged me, you wronged my house and you expect me to forget what you've done? You're dangerously deluded if not arrogant as ever."
Lancel knew, but was not surprised, that he would not get through. "Then do you mean to kill me?" he asked. "An unarmed, helpless prisoner? If so, then you'll be further corrupting your soul with sin."
"Don't even think of going there, boy," Duran chided him. "Your Grace, don't do it. We have enough evidence to bring him to trial. You kill him and we lose our only chance of finding the High Sparrow."
Daveth gripped his dagger tight, but did not budge. 'He's goading you, Daveth. Don't give him the satisfaction of turning him into a martyr,' he argued with himself, feeling his darker impulse egging him on while his humanity urged him not to give in. 'Listen to Commander Duran, Daveth. Don't do it. Remember Ser Barristan's lessons, remember Jon Arryn's counsel. No matter how much you might want to, don't give in to your anger. You're better than that. Remember the vows you swore six years ago: In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent…'
Taking a moment to breathe in and out to relax, the Young Stag steadily calmed himself down and released his grip. Commander Duran was pleased, Lancel remained indifferent.
"If your plan it to make yourself a martyr, then you're sadly mistaken. I pity you, you blind misguided fool," Daveth told him. "Commander, have the City Watch double the patrols, keep a sharp lookout for the Sparrow activity or the High Sparrow himself. And in the meantime, I recommend you do a very thorough background check so this debacle doesn't happen again."
Duran huffed. "It'll be done, Your Grace. Men! Get to work!"
"Private," the King called out.
A young recruit steadily approached, nearly stumbling over. "Y-yes, Your Grace?" he said nervously.
"Go to the Red Keep. Report everything that's happened here directly to the Hand of the King and the Small Council. Now."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace! At once, Your Grace!" he ran out.
With the rest of the City Watch shifting into overdrive, increasing the patrols, searching every building for the Sparrows and their leader… as well as ferrying out infiltrators in their ranks. As the activity was going on, Daveth moved to return to the Red Keep – but shifted his position from Rhaenys' Hill and instead changed direction through the Street of Sisters towards Visenya's Hill.
"The Great Sept of Baelor? We're not going back to the Red Keep, Your Grace?" asked Lieutenant Tyral.
Daveth shook his head. "Not yet, Lieutenant; I think this whole ordeal should at least be brought to the attention of the Most Devout themselves. Let's just hope that Septa Rosyn already knows what's going on. The threat these Sparrows represent must be dealt now."
Somewhere in the Northern wilderness…
Theon carried Jeyne in his arms as he frantically ran through the frozen woods, ignoring the heavy snow and cold winds blowing against him. Jeyne wrapped her arms tightly around her rescuer's neck, panting with fear and in pain. During the escape from the Dreadfort, both Theon and Jeyne had jumped off the ramparts to escape from Ramsay Snow – but as they fell into the snow, Jeyne twisted her ankle pretty bad and broke some of her ribs in the progress. Despite the snow cushioning their impact, Jeyne was unable to move on her own.
Both heard dogs barking in the distance, knowing they were being pursued.
*"Woof! Woof! Woof!"*
"I-it's him. It's him! It's him! It's him! It's him," Jeyne's breathing shook. She was having a bad panic attack.
"We can't stop," Theon resumed running.
The pair had been running through the Hornwood forest towards the Kingsroad. From there, should luck hold out, Theon and Jeyne would be able to make it north to Winterfell. In their pursuit to throw the hounds off their trail, Theon had to carry Jeyne across the White Knife River. Both gasped and shuddered; because it was winter and the North was already battered with snow, the river was very cold.
"I-I-I wa-want t-to g-g-go h-home," Jeyne's voice cracked while she shivered, almost as if she were to cry. "P-please don't let m-me die, Th-Theon. I don't want to die…"
Theon shivered in the icy waters as they waded across. "Y-y-you're gonna m-make it, J-Jeyne," he reassured her, his teeth chattered. "W-we're g-going home!"
Both made it across, though were blue with cold. Theon notices the barking can no longer be heard and spots something in front of him past the trees.
"I-I see the K-K-Kingsroad!" he points.
Jeyne shuddered, still unable to move due to her injuries. Steadily, with the faintest gleam of hope in her eyes, for the first time she felt like she was going to see her home again. She was going to see Winterfell again. They walked as far as they could before stopping to take shelter from the snow under an overturned tree. Theon gently laid Jeyne down, both of them shivering. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around her and massages Jeyne to increase her body temperature. Jeyne rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, but quickly raises them once she suddenly heard dogs barking close by.
*"Woof! Woof! Woof!"*
"Damn it," Theon cursed.
Jeyne clutched Theon's arm tightly. "D-don't let them take me. Please, don't let them take me," she whimpered.
'If this is going to be the end, then those fuckers aren't going to take us alive,' the ironborn stood. Theon decided he was going to stand his ground, despite his arms and legs shaking in the cold. Gripping the handle of his longsword, Theon faces down House Bolton soldiers and hounds.
"Well, well. Lord Ramsay's hounds are quite handy," one of the Bolton soldiers remarked.
"The chase is over, ironborn," remarked another.
"Return Lady Arya and maybe we'll make it painless."
Theon didn't budge. "She was never yours to begin with. Leave now, or I'll—"
"Or you'll what?" they laughed. "I can't wait to see what part Ramsay'll cut off you when we present him two prizes for the taking, just like he did your bloody friends."
'Then… they really are dead," he realized grimly.
*"Woof! Woof! Woof!"*
Distracted by the confrontation, the dogs catch Jeyne's scent and began barking once they see her under the roots of the tree. Jeyne back away from them – cowering and batting their snouts when they got too close; one of the soldiers moves to grab her, but Theon stands in his way.
"Get away from her!" he yelled.
The Boltons unsheathed their swords. "Time for us to have some fun then," they grinned wickedly.
Before swords could swing, all in attendance heard a familiar voice – a feminine one with flowing red hair.
"Stop right there!" she yelled. "Men, help them!"
*"Neeeigh!"*
Everyone turned their heads once they heard horses whining in the distance before they closed the gap. The Bolton soldiers draw their weapons as Sansa, Brienne, Podrick, Lucius and Olyvar rode towards them accompanied by Ser Wendel and the Manderly host.
"It's the Manderlys!" they recognized.
Before more could respond, Brienne cuts down a Bolton officer with Stormbringer as she rides past. Lucius and Podrick engage two in mounted combat as the Manderly men-at-arms begin circling around Theon and Jeyne for protection. Lucius's mace clashes with a Bolton's blade, knocking it out of his hands before flicking his wrist to swing back around connecting it with his jaw. The force of the impact made a sickening crack as blood spewed from his mouth and he stumbled back; Olyvar thrusted forward and stabbed him from behind, killing him.
Brienne is knocked off her horse by a soldier advancing towards her and is kicked in the gut, but the Maid of Tarth retaliates by driving a dagger into his knee. As the Bolton soldier drops to his knees, Brienne cuts him down. Noticing another mounted soldier charging towards Sansa, Olyvar jumps and strikes him – causing his horse to fall over, trapping him beneath it.
While her bodyguards fought off the intruders, Sansa rode over to Theon.
"Sansa!" Theon exclaimed surprised.
Jeyne had her ears covered, but recognized the faintest sound. "S-Sansa…?" she asked.
"Jeyne?!" the Wolf Queen's eyes widened in shock; she dismounted and rushed over to embrace her childhood friend.
'That scent… She smells like lemon cake and honey. Oh Sansa, it really is you!' Jeyne's eyes watered and immediately hugged her friend closely, sobbing loudly against Sansa's shoulder.
Theon moves to defend them, fighting a charging Bolton before disarming and cleaving him in two. Lucius advances on another soldier who he recently crippled and bashes his head with his mace. Podrick who engages on in combat is knocked aside and is about to strike, before Theon intervenes – stabbing him from behind. Once they determined their pursuers were dead, all turned towards Sansa and Jeyne.
"Wait a minute," Wendel noticed, "that's not Lady Arya Stark."
"Careful now," another examined. "Girl's got a busted ankle, and from the looks of it… three broken ribs, too."
Sansa continued hugging her friend. "No. She's Jeyne Poole… my best friend," she replies. "Gods have mercy, what did they do to you?"
"Oh Sansa! I-it was horrible!" Jeyne still cried. "They-they… *hic!* I just wanna go home! *hic!* Please! I wanna go home!"
As Jeyne never left Sansa's shoulder, the Wolf Queen looked to Theon. "Theon," she said calmly, yet also frighteningly. "What exactly happened to her?"
Theon felt a chill crawl down his spine. "I… we heard rumors of Arya being at the Dreadfort being wedded to Roose Bolton's bastard son," he explained. "Even if some of the Northern houses expressed doubts, the rest just didn't make sense. So I asked Robb to spare some of his guards so we could investigate. When we got there," his breath shook, "it was like something conjured out of a dream and made it real – twisted, cruel, vicious… evil. I've never seen anything like it."
"And?" Sansa pressed demanding answers.
"It took a while for us to find the bedchambers," he continued, "but we found it… and Jeyne. The things Ramsay did to her was just—"
"Ramsay did this? Ramsay Snow?"
All could tell the more Sansa heard, the angrier she was slowly becoming. It took a lot to make Sansa this upset and she was generally more in control of herself than Daveth was in regards to emotional restraint, but something within her snapped. Jeyne was a cherished friend of hers since they were children – almost like sisters. No one in the North ever dared to provoke or anger a Stark like this. Sansa, however, was something else entirely.
"Where are the rest of your men?" the Wolf Queen demanded.
Theon glanced at his feet. "They… they're all dead. Ramsay and his men found us. I'm all that's left."
Sansa continued to listen. The more Theon explained, the more pieces of the puzzle fit into place. Once she had determined she had everything she needed to hear, Sansa nodded.
"I believe you," she said calmly in a chilly manner. "Saddle up! Everyone back on your horses. We're going to Winterfell. All of us." Sansa turned to Jeyne. "It's all right, Jeyne," she said compassionately. "We're going home. No one's going to hurt you again… not while I'm here."
Jeyne sniffled and nodded her head. Theon gently helped her mount on the horse with Sansa; the Poole survivor wrapping her arms around Sansa's waist to keep herself steady despite the pain and discomfort. She sniffled as they gently road to Winterfell which was some several miles away – they'd reach House Stark's ancestral castle by early tomorrow morning.
"*sniffle!*"
"Shh, shh. It's okay, Jeyne. I'm here," Sansa patted her friend gently.
Jeyne nodded slowly. "Thank *hic!* you. *sniffle!* I… *hic!* I missed you so much, Sansa."
The Wolf Queen frowned sadly. "I missed you too, Jeyne. I missed you too."
As they rode off on the Kingsroad, what they failed to notice was a Bolton scout observing them from a faraway distance before running back towards the White Knife River. He would report his findings to the Dreadfort, to House Bolton… and more importantly, to his ultimate master.
Chapter End
Author's Note: Trystane Martell and Myrcella Baratheon get married, though Daveth leaves early when he is informed of the High Sparrow being broken out of prison. In the middle of the confusion, Lancel Lannister is back and has joined the Sparrows. Daveth felt his rage boiling but exercised restraint when he felt the sudden desire to kill his second cousin. In King's Landing, things will no doubt come to a head the moment after Daveth meets with the Most Devout, the high-ranking leaders of the Faith of the Seven. Meanwhile in the North, Sansa and her men managed to rescue Theon Greyjoy and Jeyne Poole from Ramsay's men – but the wolf inside the Queen Consort was brought to the surface. Sansa is furious. Think how the next chapter will end up? Thoughts? Let me know.
Hear My Fury: Oh Boy. The Sparrows are not getting off this easily. And Daveth could easily kill them, they did break the law, murdered people to get their leader out. That should drive the people to be against the Sparrows and support Daveth.
As for Ramsay, well, I think Roose is dying and the Karstarks and Umbers will join Ramsay in rebellion against House Stark. But with Rickon safe at Winterfell it's highly doubtful he'll be a hostage and Ramsay gets his ass handed to him by not only Robb, but Stannis, Jon and Mance Rayder. I estimated the combined numbers to about 60,000 on the Stark side, and of course the 6,000 on Ramsay's considering the numbers from BoB. So, he's screwed at this point.
Silent Wolf Singer: I swear, the Sparrows are not going to win. Daveth is a good balance of law and faith. He's not Cersei.
C.E.W: Great so now Sansa heads for Winterfell and is quite determined to see Ramsay Snow brought to justice. Ramsay Snow's men attacked her husband in Dorne, and now he severely abused her best friend. Robb Stark will respond, and perhaps it is time for a little family reunion.
Tohka123: Looks like both King and Queen have there hands full. Really enjoying the chapters Keep up the hard work
Dovahkiin1503: Well Ramsay is fucked. In the show Ramsay got his hands on Sansa because of Littlefinger, but in this story she has members of the Kingsguard with her, the North would probably turn against the Boltons now and Sansa herself can use a sword... I think?
Atleast you know what to do with Sansa unlike D&D who still have her play the Game of Thrones after the Long Night.
Keep up the good work.
mitchn: Looks like things are heating up. Will you somehow incorporate the High Sparrow's "finery" speech because that was when we all realized he is more dangerous than he looks? As for Ramsay, he is doomed, and I think it should be Jeyne who decides his punishment because she suffered the worst from him.
domgk115: I just binge read all 109 chapters of this over the last 4 days and i regret none of it. Absolutely fantastic story my friend. My one question i wish to ask is if Dany will have a pairing in this story down the line, will it be Jon like in the show, or was someone else in mind? Also, how big of a role will Jon's true parantage end up being? Even if Bran has a vision down the line of his true parantege it was Sam disocovering the High Spetons diary that really made people believe the claim, but with the kingdom in such good shape under Daveth would Jon being the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna even matter so much?
―Glad you've enjoyed the chapters written so far. I'd like to see Dany chill down a bit with her own pairing (maybe it'll set her mind at ease given what she's had to endure most of her life). As for Jon Snow's true parentage, no doubt there'd be a ripple affect felt across Westeros when it all comes out in the open. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Rickon... I imagine it would rock them to their core when Jon tells them the truth. Daveth, though, might feel like he'd be stuck in another loop again - unable to avoid it; something he's had to deal with almost his whole life.
MrKristoffer1994: I would love to see Sansa make sure so House Bolton is destroyed once and for all! Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton must pay for what they did!
10868letsgo: Awesome. Can't wait to see when Margarey and Loras will be brought to trial.
―And the Sparrows risk facing the wrath of House Tyrell and others.