In the Red Keep…
Myrcella and Tommen played a round of cyvasse in the gardens while Ser Jaime watched them both. The Kingslayer watched with amusement as his 'niece' dominated her youngest brother, often asking for advice on how to gain any footing—which she teased. During her stay in Dorne, Myrcella learned how to play from Trystane; and like their eldest brother, she's proven herself to be a quick learner.
"How do you do that, 'Cella?" exclaimed Tommen.
"Tee-hee, that's for me to know and you to figure out, little brother," teased Myrcella.
Jaime continued observing their play; but a distinctive sound of bushes rustling snapped him out of it. As a Kingsguard, his primary duty was guarding the royal family of Westeros. Any who might go after them, he would immediately respond.
"What was that?" the Young Cub heard.
Myrcella heard it too. "I don't know. But I've got a bad feeling about this…"
The Kingslayer maintained a firm grip on the handle of his sword, senses on high alert. "Come on out now," he called. "You're terrible at trying to sneak up on us like this. Show yourself and maybe I'll be a bit lenient."
Both Myrcella and Tommen looked at each other; they now knew something was wrong. Knowing that there'd be no sense in relying on stealth, Jaime observed 12 Sparrows emerging from the bushes and outer columns of the gardens—all of them armed with clubs and rods.
"Ser Jaime of House Lannister," one observed. "Knight of the Kingsguard, you are hereby ordered to stand aside. Lower your weapons and you won't be harmed."
"Kingslayer."
"Oathbreaker."
"A man without honor."
Jabbed at and insults hurled in his direction, Jaime noticed some of the Sparrows starred at Myrcella and Tommen in a threatening manner, and that did not make him back down. 'Like Seven hells I will,' he growled. "You don't make demands here. Turn around and walk away."
"We brothers of the Holy Faith don't have the authority to do so. And you don't have the authority to order us."
"I don't think you comprehend the gravity of the situation," a voice called out.
Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella turned to see Daveth and Trystane arriving on the scene in the nick of time—both of them were armed. The Young Stag removed the strap around his shoulder and gripped Robert's war hammer tightly in both hands despite the bludgeoning weapon's weight; Trystane, the heir to Dorne, steadily unsheathed his rapier.
"Trystane!" she called out.
"Stay behind me," he called out.
Before either Myrcella or Tommen could move, the Sparrows moved in closer.
"You harbor sinners and abominations, Oathkeeper," one Sparrow proclaimed. "You disgrace your house and yourself."
Daveth gave a menacing glare. "Ser Jaime," he said. "The Sparrows have absconded with the heir to Highgarden, Ser Loras Tyrell. These fanatics here used one of their own as a distraction while his comrades here moved in to do the same with Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen. Divide and conquer."
*SHIIING!*
In that instant, Jaime unsheathed his sword as the Sparrows readied themselves for a bloody conflict. But neither the Kingslayer nor Young Stag seemed to care as Myrcella and Tommen gathered closer to their nearby protectors.
"Well, that was all I needed to hear," Jaime remarked coldly. "Try to tear our family apart, and you'll be shown no mercy. Now get out."
The Sparrows frowned. "The High Sparrow knew you'd say that for you've chosen to be judged by the Father instead of embracing the Mother's mercy. So order your uncle to step aside or there will be violence. To defy us is to defy the Gods."
Daveth gripped the war hammer, his eyes glued to the Sparrows. "I choose violence," he hissed threateningly.
Each of the Sparrows rushed at them, clubs and rods in the air ready to swing. Jaime easily cut down six of them before six more of them managed to bypass him to try to get at Myrcella and Tommen, guarded by Daveth and Trystane. Having practiced his fencing skills after the fiasco in Dorne, Trystane thrusted his rapier into two of them while Daveth spun his war hammer around.
*BAM!*
One of the Sparrows managed to land a lucky hit on Daveth's head with a club before the meat-tenderizing end of his massive war hammer swung around and smashed him hard in the chest – caving in his chest cavity as he was sent flying across the floor. The Young Stag swung his hammer and connects with the side of another Sparrow's head; when the assailant dropped to the ground, Daveth transitions onto the next Sparrow and swings his hammer – hitting him directly in the face, his skull making a sickening crunch sound as it was caved in by the force of the hammer's impact.
With only one Sparrow remaining, Daveth and Jaime closed the gap. As the Young Stag knocked his legs out from under him, the Kingslayer raised his sword up high and brought the tip of his blade down in an aggressive thrusting move—driving it deep into the Sparrow's throat. The Sparrow gurgled before being silenced. Jaime withdrew his sword and looked at Daveth, who had a minor cut on the side of his head.
"Brother!" Tommen noticed.
Myrcella hugged Trystane. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I was about to ask you that," he replied. "Did they touch you?"
"No. We're fine."
Daveth rubbed his head, annoyed at the sense of discomfort before noticing Tommen approaching him.
"I… I'm sorry, brother," he apologized. "I didn't mean to freeze like that. I just—"
"Hush, Tommen. It's fine," he interrupted.
"But your head's bleeding!"
"It's just a scratch. I've had worse." He glanced down at the pile of bodies.
Ser Jaime wiped his blade clean and looked towards the royal host. The Kingslayer felt more concerned for the well-being of Tommen and Myrcella, but overall he was relieved that both were safe and unharmed—though he wished they didn't have to see this up close like that.
"How are you?" he asked.
"A bit shaken, but I'm fine," Myrcella answers.
Tommen still had a look of guilt and lamenting at himself but regained his composure. "I'm all right," he spoke confidently.
"You are. You will be. I'll see to that." Jaime looked down at the Sparrows, seething with fury at what they just tried to do. "I'm going to get Bronn the largest bag of gold anyone's ever seen and have him gather the best killers he knows. I'll take them searching from door-to-door until we find the High Sparrow and I'll remove his head and every other Sparrow head I can find."
"Tempting, but do that and we'll end up proving their point," Daveth disagreed. "If we want to find where the High Sparrow's hiding we'll need to coordinate efforts with Varys until he spies pick up a scent. Lord Royce already has his people on the streets. When they find something, we'll be the first to know. And when we do, we'll treat them without mercy."
"Shouldn't it be easier to negotiate with the Sparrows?" Tommen asked.
The Young Stag scoffed. "I tried to be reasonable with them before this got out of hand. Diplomacy is a useful tool when it works, but it's basically useless when everyone already perceives you as a threat. No, these Sparrows will always believe they're in the right and won't be convinced otherwise. They must be dealt with."
Ser Barristan finally arrived on the scene. "There you are," he said.
"Lord Commander."
"Lady Stark's been asking for you."
Daveth sighed. "I see. And what does my mother-in-law want?" he asked.
"She says you need to tend to your son and daughter as soon as possible."
"My kids are all right?"
"Yes, Your Grace, they're fine. Lady Stark wants to talk to you."
"Fine, I'll stop by and see what she has to say," he sighed. "In the meantime, inform the Small Council of what's happened here. Also, have Lord Tyrell and Lady Olenna assemble a rescue team. Ser Jaime, take my brother and sister to their quarters and have competent guardsmen posted outside their rooms. I don't want us to be taken by surprise like this again."
"Understood."
Both Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan led Myrcella, Tommen and Trystane away from the gardens and away from the bloodied carnage. Daveth moved to leave, though stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder at the dead Sparrows near his feet. He still gripped the war hammer in his hand which still had a few droplets of blood and brain matter coming off of it. He then noticed his left hand shake before curling into a tight fist which made the trembling stop.
"I warned you what would happen if you forced my hand, High Sparrow," he quietly told himself. "When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. This time, however, you and your followers have crossed the line. You made this personal. You want a fight? Well, you just got one because this stag has teeth and claws to go with his antlers. And 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."
Daveth walked away, clutching his head with his left hand and bit his tongue to keep himself in check – not wanting to slide down that dark path again; even now it was becoming much harder to maintain his composure in light of the recent attempted kidnapping of Myrcella and Tommen. The Sparrows targeted his family, and they were going to face merciless retaliation soon. For now, Daveth laid a list of priorities in taking the fight to the Sparrows themselves: locate and rescue Ser Loras, track down the Sparrows… and eliminate the High Sparrow himself.
"Sansa…" he sighed.
At Winterfell…
Sansa and her personal guards along with several Manderly men-at-arms accompanied her through the southern gates of Winterfell past winter town. A lot had changed noticeably since she last set foot in her birthplace; snow had covered the ramparts and nearby fields, fresh new delivery of timber had reinforced the railings and support structures to replace old ones due to natural degeneration. But Sansa had noticed a rather large gathering in the courtyard.
The Wolf Queen noticed the sigils of Houses Mormont, Glover, Cerwyn, Hornwood, Mazin and Umber. Because of all the commotion, no one had even noticed Sansa arriving in the courtyard. She raised a hand up, motioning for her companions to stop before dismounting from their horses. Theon was not too far behind and carefully carried Jeyne down as best as he could.
"Ow, ow, ow," she whined.
"Easy there, I got you," Theon reassured her.
While the Greyjoy helped Jeyne down, arriving down from the upper level staircase was Robb's wife Talisa and their 2-year-old son Little Eddard.
"Your Grace," she called out.
This caused the gathering Northern lords to cease chattering and stood surprised when they finally noticed Sansa Stark in their presence. One by one, each of the Northern lords dropped to one knee in a formal act of recognition. Sansa calmly held her chin up formally and waved her hand.
"You may rise, my lords," she said in a regal tone.
When they stood, Talisa and her son approached. "Eddard, this is your aunt, Queen Sansa," she told him. "Can you say hello?"
The young heir to Winterfell bashfully hid behind his mother's skirt, earning a chuckle. Sansa looked at the boy and was reminded of her own children. 'Eddard'… that was her father's name. The Wolf Queen gave a warm smile and knelt to meet her young nephew at eye-level.
"Hello, Eddard," she politely greeted. "I'm your auntie. It's nice to finally meet you."
Eddard peaked from behind Talisa before slowly approaching her. "H-hewo, auntie," he greeted.
Talisa smiled at her son's shyness before she noticed Jeyne. "Wait a minute, what happened?" she asks.
Theon looked up at her. "Jeyne's got a few broken ribs and a sprained ankle. She needs—"
"I can see that. Bring her to my chambers at once. I'll get my supplies and we can tend her wounds. How did this happen?"
"Ramsay's men. They found us. We were lucky enough to escape."
Talisa nodded. "I see. Robb will definitely need to hear of this."
Once Jeyne was carried off away—her wailing sounds of discomfort and pain echoing throughout the courtyard, Sansa watched her best friend being escorted into her sister-in-law's medical chambers. Even as an elevated foreign lady in a foreign country, Talisa still retained the use of her medicinal practices and often treated patients herself along with Maester Luwin.
"Will she be all right?" Sansa asked.
"Provided none of her vital organs were punctured, I'd recommend Jeyne would at least stay in bed these next few weeks so she could heal properly," Talisa answered. "Don't worry, Your Grace. She'll make it through."
"Thank you, Lady Talisa. It means a great deal. Jeyne's like a sister to me."
"We'll take good care of her."
As if on cue, Robb emerged onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard. Sansa slowly spins around until she and her brother lock eyes. Robb descends from the balcony, though young Rickon was moving faster and was more eager.
"Sister!" he called out in excitement.
Sansa spread her arms out wide and embraced her youngest brother in a big hug, a sense of relief washing over her as the Wolf Queen felt her emotions welling up at being reunited with her brothers. Robb moves past his bannermen and embraces Sansa who reciprocates the familial act of affection.
"Look at you. You've grown so much since we last saw you, Sansa," Robb remarked.
"I missed all of you, Robb," Sansa said. "It's… good to be home."
The Young Wolf pulled away. "What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.
"Let's just say that the rumors spreading around up here in the North have made their way to the capital. To say it involved Arya had me feeling rather concerned so I came here to whether or not they had merit," she answered. "But what we found… was quite upsetting."
"I know. I've heard the same," Robb turned to Theon. "Theon, where are the others?"
Theon briefly looked away before returning to look at him. "They're all gone, Robb. They stayed behind to cover our escape from the Dreadfort. I'm all that's left."
Robb felt angry. "They're… dead? All of them?"
"All of them. Ramsay Snow and his men killed them all."
"He speaks the truth, Robb," Sansa vouched for him. All the Northern lords were within earshot. "Ramsay Snow, the bastard son of Roose Bolton, has attacked us—both the North and my family."
"What did he do?"
"Other than what he's already done to my best friend, Jeyne of House Poole, a friend who I consider a sister? It was Ramsay who was behind the attempted assassination against my husband's life."
Dacey Mormont, the new Lady of Bear Island, approached with her younger sisters Alysane and Lyanna. "Unbelievable. What else have you discovered, Your Grace?" she asked.
"Locke and a dozen of his best hunters were released from captivity and tried to kill Daveth in Dorne during the negotiations. Out of spite after his crimes were exposed after the North took back Moat Cailin during the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, Ser Olyvar theorized he might also be behind this misery plaguing the North. And based on the evidence of what I've seen on the way here it appears our suspicions have merit. Do not be deceived, my lords and ladies. I've come here with a warning: Ramsay Snow is a sadistic evil man capable of committing unspeakable atrocities without remorse."
"He flayed our men alive," Theon revealed.
Robb was taken aback. "My father outlawed flaying in the North," he grimaced.
"You clearly don't know him that well," Olyvar pointed out.
"We should march on the Dreadfort and bring this bastard Snow to justice," Lord Cerwyn called out.
"Him and that traitorous spawn of mine too," the Greatjon Umber seconded the motion. "I believe both had a hand in the attempt on my life before making the journey here."
'These are very serious accusations. And given what Sansa's been telling me, I think that'll be all the proof I need,' Robb thought. "My lords, my ladies, Your Grace, after much deliberation and… review of the complaints made against Ramsay Snow of House Bolton, let it be known that all those who've wronged us and the North itself will be given justice. It might not make the pain go away, but they will never harm anyone in the North ever again; not so long as we draw breath."
"Aye!"
"Hear, hear!"
Olyvar, not being of the North, approached. "Pardon my mannerisms, Lord Stark, but I think that's what Ramsay Snow will want you to do," he said.
"Oh?" the Greatjon towered over him. "And why is that, weasel boy?"
'Cal me that again and I swear to the Stranger, old man…' the Frey knight gritted his teeth. "You think he's going to fall into your trap, he won't. Given what he's capable of, it's clear that he's the one who lays the traps. Go at him now and you'll be walking right into it."
Sansa nodded. Robb, meanwhile, stood firm.
"Yet his overconfidence is also one of his biggest weaknesses," he pointed out. "Goad him enough and he'll eventually make a mistake."
"He plays with people! He's far better at it than you. He's been doing it all his life. He wants you to make a mistake."
"And you have better ideas?"
Feeling her frustrations boiling and the queasiness in the pit of her stomach acting up again, Sansa threw her hands up. "Robb, I might not know anything about battles – but you need to listen to me. Just don't do what Ramsay wants you to do."
"Sansa, you're my sister. I respect your opinion. You're our Queen, I understand that. But you have to understand that we've beaten the odds once before and we can do it again."
'Damn it, Robb. You're sounding almost like father. You need to be smarter than him,' the Wolf Queen thought.
Robb noticed Sansa's annoyance yet before he could say anything he was pulled aside by a messenger who whispered into his ear. Almost no one could tell what he was saying, but Robb's eyes widened and looked almost ecstatic.
"He's here…?" he asked.
The messenger nodded. "And it seems he has a bunch of wildlings with him."
Now Robb was curious and had a hard time figuring out that last part. Sansa felt her stomach churn and bile climbed up her throat, prompting her to immediately cover her mouth.
"Mmph!" she almost gagged.
Brienne, Lucius, Olyvar and Robb all turned to look at her.
"What's the matter?" Robb asked.
Sansa forced herself to swallow the substance back down her throat. "I… I need to see a maester," she said. "Is Luwin still here?"
"I'm here, Your Grace," Maester Luwin emerged. "Come. Let me take a look at you."
Sansa took a moment to excuse herself from the Northern assembly and accompanied Luwin into her personal chambers. With Talisa occupying herself tending to Jeyne's injuries, the old maester would take it upon himself to determine what was wrong with the Wolf Queen. Brienne, Olyvar and Lucius all stood outside the door on guard. Luwin sat Sansa down on a chair by the fire. While he gathers his medical supplies, he hands her a bowl of soup.
"Here," Luwin offers. "This should help settle your stomach."
"Thank you, Maester Luwin," Sansa lifts the bowl to her lips and drinks from it. "Mmm. This is good soup. Reminds me of those kidney pies Old Nan used to make us."
"With the peas and onions?"
"Yes."
Maester Luwin chuckled and turned to her. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"I've been… feeling rather nauseous. At times I can't sleep, headaches come and go, my feet are killing me and I get random mood swings."
"And how long has this been going on for?"
"Almost four weeks. It started while on the voyage to White Harbor."
"Hmm. Well, let me examine you. Perhaps we'll find out what's been causing this."
Sansa nodded and allowed Maester Luwin to examine her. She'd known him since she was a little girl and trusted him to do his job. After certain tests, he handed her a small replica of a chamber pot and instructed her to provide a urine sample. Uncomfortable as she felt at the request, Sansa took the pot with her to a more closed off, more private area of Luwin's chamber to pee. Once the Wolf Queen uncomfortably handed the pot back to Luwin, the maester mixed the sample with wine and other chemical compounds under an observatory lens; the examination lasted about four to five hours before Luwin noticed the color turning blue due to the chemicals reacting to the amount of protein present.
Satisfied with his findings, Luwin steadily rose from his seat and approached Sansa.
"Is everything well?" she asked.
Luwin smiled. "Congratulations, Your Grace."
Sansa blinked for a moment. "Wait, y-you mean…" she realized.
"Yes. You're pregnant."
Sansa felt her breath being taken away and lowered her eyes down. As she placed a hand on her still flat stomach, Sansa felt her lips curling into a warm loving smile now that her suspicions have been confirmed: she was once again pregnant with her third child she and Daveth made together. Although it would take time, her stomach would develop a small bump that will grow in the next coming months. Despite everything that's been going on, there was still hope. With all this death going on, life would always find a way. It was a cycle that kept repeating itself from the dawn of time. Sansa massaged her stomach attentively.
"Pregnant," she repeated. "I'm pregnant."
Chapter End
Author's Note: Not long after the Sparrows made the first move, Daveth hit back harder with the backing of Trystane Martell and Jaime Lannister. Although they foiled the attempted kidnapping of Myrcella and Tommen, this fight was far from over – but rather it was the beginning. With the plan to rescue Loras from the Sparrows are bound to come to a head, people will no doubt be caught in the middle. Even the conflict, we see Daveth struggling to repress his inner Baratheon rage and prevent it from consuming him again.
Sansa Stark has arrived at Winterfell and shares a reunion with her brothers, sister-in-law and meets her nephew for the first time. She and her companions share what they find on the way back and Robb intends to deliver the King's Justice in his own way – though Sansa suspects her older brother tends to lean more towards their late father Eddard Stark's perspective. Despite that, the Wolf Queen has something up her sleeves.
And no need for reveals as you guys knew for a long time after noticing big hints: Sansa is once again pregnant with baby number 3. How will this play out in the long run? Thoughts? Let me know.
MrKristoffer1994: I really like Olyvar Frey and his thinking, he will definitely play a vital role in dealing with Ramsay Snow :3
Hear My Fury: Hopefully Sansa can convince Robb to not do what Jon did and fall for Ramsay's traps. Though thankfully Robb has most of the North on his side, I don't see them abandoning him unless it's because of the wildlings. And House Stark is more alive than ever, there's no excuse that House Stark is dead and the lords just abandon them. Their queen is a Stark and their lord is a Stark. Even so, with Stannis there with nearly thirty thousand men they could easily wipe out the Boltons.
As for Daveth, the Sparrows made it personal. Not good for them. I hear they're making a new song for the Sparrows as well as the Boltons. I believe these new songs are called, "The Sparrows of King's Landing" and "The Flayed Man of the Dreadfort"
SpiegelMensch: Great chapter as always. After seeing all of Season 8, I am just happy that there is one version of George's story that is still handled with care. Please don't go down the direction D&D took for Seasons 7 and 8.
Dovahkiin1503: Okay so Daveth is not only slowly giving in to his Baratheon rage, he is also leaning more towards his Lannister side. Daveth is not only the Young Stag, but also the Black Lion. A title everyone seems to forget.
I have to say though, with Sansa now being confirmed to be pregnant, should something happen to the child or Sansa, and word gets back to Daveth, I have a feeling we will get a more brutal version of the Rains of Castamere. A version that might even have Tywin tremble in fear were he still alive.
Baratheon rage combined with the ruthlessness of Lannister is something terrible to behold.