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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Drama & Romance, [OC, Sansa S.] Daenerys T., Jon S., Words: 859k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Apr 16, 2018 Updated: Feb 11, 2020 2,418Chapter 112: Sparrows Strike, the Dragon Rises

In the Red Keep…

After some time of investigating and questioning officials, Daveth returned to the Red Keep to convey upon the Small Council. He had one of the City Watch recruits send word to his councilors of his findings and not too long ago noticed an escort from both the Reach and Vale arriving at the gates. Once he entered the council chambers, the Young Stag noticed all of them were in attendance—in addition to Lady Olenna Tyrell with her entourage along and Lord Yohn Royce with his.

"Ah, beloved nephew," Tyrion called out.

"Daddy!" both twins exclaimed and rushed to grip his legs.

Daveth looked down at Lyonel and Cassana; both twins eagerly looked up at him and noticed a small bag in his hands. He bent down to one knee to meet them at eye-level.

"Here. Some sweets your father was able to pick up on the way back," he told them as he handed them each their fair share of candied plums.

"Yay!"

"All right. Run along with grandma now, pups. Your father's got some things to take care of. I'll come tuck you in tonight. Be good now, yes?"

"Okie!"

Lyonel and Cassana ran off to find their grandmother Catelyn – each held bags of candies in their little hands. Daveth watched as his son and daughter left the council chambers, finally able to redirect his attention towards serious matters at hand.

"They really seem to like you," Tyrion mentioned.

Daveth shook his head. "They're just 2 years old, uncle. If either Lyonel or Cassana are remarkable at that age, then that is their mother's doing – not mine."

"And you believe if you do anything well by them it would be to inflict as little damage as possible?" Olenna prodded. "I have travelled a long way after I was told that my presence was needed."

"Lord Tyrell," the Young Stag turned to Mace, "did you ask her here?" he asked.

"Well, Your Grace, you see I—"

Olenna interrupted him. "I was invited at the behest of the King's Hand, your uncle Lord Tyrion, to help resolve several troublesome issues… such as the High Sparrow causing trouble for Baratheons, Lannisters and Tyrells."

"Then I take it you've known about his recent breakout from his confinement?"

"Although the Reach is closer to King's Landing, the rest of us in the Vale of Arryn wouldn't sit idle while recent events unfolded before our eyes again," Yohn said. "Whatever aid House Arryn might provide to the crown is at your disposal, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Lord Royce. Lady Olenna. Now, let's get down to it. We've got fanatics running throughout the city. Commander Duran has increased the City Watch patrols, the Red Keep's guards have been informed of the situation and remain on the constant."

"And should one try to infiltrate?" the Lord of Runestone asked.

"We're currently working on a solution, but the Sparrows are a clever if not deceptive bunch. Soldier and law enforcement alike are being checked thoroughly in the hope of ferreting out any more spies in their ranks." He turned to Varys. "Lord Varys, have your little birds picked up any trails yet?"

Varys shook his head. "None yet, Your Grace. If any of the Sparrows leave a trail, my little birds will follow them."

"Good; best to rout them out before they cause any more damage… now that the High Septon's been ousted."

"Have you learned anything from the Most Devout?" Trystane asked.

"Nothing that could be beneficial, unfortunately," the Young Stag shook his head. "Until a new High Septon is chosen, the Most Devout remains in a deadlock; unable to do anything. For now it seems only Septa Rosyn and Septon Luceon are our only allies in the Faith of the Seven's leadership, yet…"

"What?"

"There was one who just rubbed me the wrong way."

"Think one of them could be involved?"

"Until we have proof or any leads to follow, all we have are theories and possible suspects. But don't worry about that part. Varys and I will work to resolve that. Our spy networks can coordinate better without both sides stepping on each other's toes."

Varys nodded.

"If I may," Yohn suggested. "While we strategize on our next course of action, I could have some of my own escorts keep close tabs on certain parties in the city."

"Who do you have in mind?" he asked.

Daveth felt a close hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, the Young Stag was slightly taken aback by a young woman staring at him – smiling almost eagerly. She was a short, fleshy and extremely buxom woman, broad of hip, thick of waist with a small mouth, a pair of lively brown eyes and brown curly hair framed round red cheeks. Daveth roughly estimated she was about roughly two years older than him.

"Myranda Royce, my cousin's daughter, has opted to come with me from the Gates of the Moon," the Lord of Runestone introduced her. "She might be a bit… ahem, frolicsome and play the merry fool… but underneath she's shrewder than her father, my brother Nestor. I'm certain she'll be of great assistance in the investigation."

Daveth cleared his throat. "Welcome to King's Landing, Lady Myranda," he greeted politely.

"It is a great honor to finally meet you in person, Your Grace," Myranda curtsied. "My friend Mya Stone has told me many things about you."

'But you'll get no secrets from me,' he told himself. "And where is your… friend, my lady?"

"She's already on the streets. 'Hitting the ground running,' was what she said. Perhaps once we hear more of these horrible Sparrows plaguing these poor people, maybe we could present our findings to you personally?"

The Young Stag raised an eyebrow, feeling a little bit apprehensive. "So long as you keep your eyes peeled and ensure that you're not being shadowed, then that's fine."

"Oh, that would be great. Mya's been dying to meet you."

"A baseborn girl should not be paraded around His Grace at court," Pycelle chastised. "Such an act would bring him disgrace and scandal."

Myranda snorted. "Yet such disgrace and scandal has already befallen upon a man of your stature several years ago when you sold out His Grace when he arranged his only sister's marriage to the Prince of Dorne's son and heir despite swearing a solemn vow not to tell anyone of the sort." She gave a sigh. "Is that not the truth, Grand Maester?"

While Pycelle and a few councilors sputtered, Daveth appeared quite impressed.

"What of the other Tyrells? Tyrion changed the subject. "Ser Loras and Princess Consort Margaery?"

"Margaery is in the gardens with Tommen," Mace said, "Loras is sparring in the courtyard. Why?"

Before any could say anything, a royal steward entered the room.

"Pardon the interruption, my lords. Your Grace," he lowered his head. "But the guards have caught an intruder trying to sneak into the castle. We have him in custody if you wish to question him yourself."

Daveth, Tyrion, Olenna and Yohn looked at each other before the Young Stag turned back to the steward.

"Bring him in," he ordered.

The royal steward nodded and motioned for two guards—Baratheon and Lannister—to bring in a chained Sparrow before the council. Roughly throwing the captured intruder to the ground, Daveth recognized the uniform as rough-spun robes of dyed black wool fastened around the waist by chains.

"How did he get in here?" asked Randyll.

The prisoner steadily lifted his head up. "How I did was irrelevant, my lords. Why is purely a detrimental to our mandate from the Gods themselves."

Daveth rolled his eyes. "Again with spouting such nonsense," he remarked in slight annoyance. "You Sparrows really do enjoy poking and prodding at me trying to get me to snap, don't you?"

"A poor assumption on your part if you think our holy movement acts based off our own amusements, Oathkeeper. No. No, we're all part of something greater than ourselves. The High Sparrow will show the people of this city the light of the Mother's love and punish the wicked."

"Cut to the chase, Sparrow. What are you really after?"

"You harbor a sinner, you harbor abominations… The world must be cleansed of them."

In that instant, Daveth felt as if the world simply faded in a pit of blackness when he heard that. He hadn't had a moment to recognize him curling his fits into a tight ball; perceived at the insult or threat, the Young Stag's thoughts turned to not one but two individuals that came to mind. But it wasn't that, Daveth felt as if it were all just…

"A distraction," he gasped.

The Sparrow gave a rather calm, chilling smile – almost smug. Olenna and Mace Tyrell both seemed to catch onto this and quickly rose from their seats.

"Loras," Mace sputtered.

"Your son reeks of sin," the Sparrow spat. "The others will be on him soon. The Father will judge him—"

Before he could gloat even further, the guards smacked him hard on the back of the head – rendering him unconscious.

"Clap him in irons and throw him into the black cells," Daveth ordered. "Lord Tyrell, have your guards find Ser Loras before the Sparrows do. Trystane, come with me. I'll need you to help me find Myrcella and Tommen."

Not hesitating, the Dornish Master of Laws sprang from his seat and ran out of the Small Council chambers as the guards dragged the Sparrow off to the dungeons; those who remained uttered words of confusion before gathering their wits and immediately sprang into action when it became known the Sparrows initiated a diversionary tactic to attack not only the nobility but the royal House Baratheon of King's Landing.

In the darkest corner of the Young Stag's mind, Daveth felt a tiny flame beginning to grow—threatening to grow into a blazing ember. Passing a nearby hallway, he managed to pick up his father's war hammer and strapped it around his back.

'I swear if those Sparrows lay so much as a finger on Myrcella or Tommen, I'll kill them all… Push me too hard and they'll learn the hard way how far the depth of my fury extends.'

Somewhere in the courtyard…

Ser Loras Tyrell had been sparring against another man, clashing practice swords with one another as the spectators around him cheered and applauded. From what it seems, the Knight of the Flowers had been improving his fighting style ever since his defeat at the Battle of the Blackwater years ago. Sure the scar across his face had faded, but Loras remained as formidable as ever.

Loras had studied Daveth's moves closely—the distant memory of that battle forever engrained in his memory. Raising his right arm upwards to deflect and parry, Loras knocked his opponent to the ground. He removed his helmet, sweaty and exhausted from the sparring. Taking the time to absorb the round of applause he was receiving, Loras hands his sword to another man who hands him a drink.

As he took a sip, he felt something was wrong. A great number of Sparrows, all armed, walk down and up a dozen stairwells on all sides before Loras suddenly becomes aware of their presence.

"Seize him," one of the Sparrows ordered.

Loras reached to grab a nearby sword, but the Sparrows proved more quickly and intimidated the spectators into submission as dozens of them roughly grabbed the heir to Highgarden.

"Ngah! Get your hands off of me!" he yelled, offering fierce resistance.

Surrounded on all sides, one of the Sparrows high-ranking leaders, pushed his way past his holy brothers-in-arms and stared directly at their sought out target.

"Ser Loras of House Tyrell, you have broken the laws of Gods and men," he informs him.

Loras eyes him up and down. "Unhand me this instant! Who do you think he are?" he demands as he grunted and struggles.

He leans in close to his face. "Justice," he replies. "Take him to the High Sparrow. Our leader will judge him before the Father. Our benefactor will ensure our mission is sanctioned whether the crown approves or not."

'Benefactor? They've got someone backing them?' the Knight of the Flowers thought to himself.

Not determined to be taken without a fight, Loras throws himself at the Sparrows—hurling his arms against the Sparrows restraining him, kicking others as hard as he could whenever they got too close. Wielding clubs and robs, the Sparrows took turns attacking Loras.

*BAM!*

*WHACK!*

Blow after blow, Loras grunted and shouted yet still resisted and stood his ground while the Sparrows found it a more difficult time hauling him away. As they neared a side entrance they used to sneak in while one of their own distracts the main leaders, one of them is spotted by team of guards.

"There they are!" one of them points at the Sparrows.

"Stop them! Don't let them get away!"

One by one, the guards rushed down the stairwells and charged at the Sparrows. Recognizing it was their time to quickly evacuate the area; a few Sparrows remained behind to hold them off while they take Loras away. Knowing they were unarmed and had relatively light weaponry, the Sparrows covering their escape knew they were about to be slaughtered.

"Get off me! Now! Let go!" he yelled frustratingly.

The guards proved more than capable of eliminating the Sparrows, but to their surprise the Sparrows gripped a nearby level and forced it down, shutting the gates and breaking the handle off. Smirking in triumph, the Sparrows watched as the guards grabbed at the gate and tried lifting up to no avail. All they could do was watch the enemy escape with Loras Tyrell—a mission they considered a success.

"Fuck!" one the guards banged the bars. "Someone go tell the King, tell him… Tell them that the Sparrows made the first move."

"What will we tell Margaery? Or Lord Tyrell?"

The captain sighed and shook his head. "I get a feeling they'll learn one way or another. Let's just hope they know exactly who to blame 'cause it'll be an us-versus-them scenario… something we can't afford at the moment."

They knew this day was the Sparrow's victory; but they would not be caught off-guard like this again… and they will plan to retaliate.

Somewhere in Essos…

Deep within the arid lands of the Great Grass Sea, Daenerys was covered in dust and her hands were bound. Moments ago after flying atop of Drogon's back out of Meereen, the Dragon Queen found herself stranded in uncharted territory before finding herself surrounded by 100,000 Dothraki – some of them were a few former khalasar who abandoned her after Khal Drogo died. Captured by those she originally followed and briefly led, Daenerys trips before one of the Dothraki bloodriders, Qhono, whip at her.

"Ishish me tih leyes. Mai okeosi inavvasi anni tih leyes majin noreth moon zasqaso. (Maybe she saw a ghost. My friend's mother saw a ghost and her hair turned white)," one of them laughed.

Akho, another bloodrider laughed. "Hannavenaki rokhi shekhes. Me avvirsae ilek moroa. Majin jin hannaveneesi, ishish me kovara torga shekhi k'athneakari sekke majin noreth zasqasoe. (Pink people are afraid of the sun. It burns their skin. So this pink girl, she probably stands too long in the sun and her hair goes white.)"

Daenerys understood what Qhono and Akho were saying, all of it was directed at her—what they planned to do to her once they were alone. She hated being sold like a broodmare, used and abused, raped and defiled… she endured such abuse most of her life in exile. But tonight, the Dragon Queen was having none of it when presented to Khal Moro.

The moment he groped her, Daenerys turned the tables.

"Vo frakho anna vosecchi. (Do not touch me)," she snaps.

The Dothraki bloodriders and wives look at each other; two of them slowly back away as Daenerys continued.

"Anha Daenerys Vazyol h'Okreseroon Targeryen, Atak ma Hakesoon Mae, Osavvirsak, Khaleesi Mirini, Khaleesi m'Andahli ma Roynari m'Ataki, Khaleesi Havazhofi Hranni, ma Haggey-Assamvak ma Mai Zhavorsi. (I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.)"

Khal Moro scoffed. "Yer vosak, yorak ma hakesoon yeri, Khaleesi Vosi, zafra Khali Moro. (You are nobody, the millionth of your name, Queen of Nothing, slave of Khal Moro)," he laughs at her. "Ajjalan anha achilok ma yeroon, ma hash Vezhof erina, hash yer vayyoe anhaan rizhes. Hash yer tihoe? (Tonight I will lie with you, and if the Great Stallion is kind you will give me a son. Do you understand?)"

"Anha vos ochilok ma shafkoa vosecchi. (I will not lie with you)," Daenerys glared at him. "M'anha vo vayyok vo yal che ha shafkea che h'eshnakaan. Avvos vosma shekh yola she jimma ma drivoe she titha. (And I will bear no children, for you or anyone else. Not until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.)"

"Me allayafa anna. Athvadar mra qora. (I like her. She has spirit.)"

And that was when Daenerys decided to drop the mother of all bombshells. "Anha chiorikemoon ha Khalaan Drogo ki Bharbosi. (I was wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo)," she revealed.

That proved more than enough to make Khal Moro back away from her. "Khal Drogo driva. (Khal Drogo is dead)," he remarks.

The Dragon Queen nodded. "Anha nesak. Anha avvirsa khadokh moon. (I know. I burnt his body.)"

Knowing it was forbidden among the Dothraki, Khal Moro unsheathed his blade and cuts Daenerys' bindings off – freeing the use of her hands.

"Anha nemo echomosak. Anha vo neso. (Forgive me. I did not know)," he apologizes. "Me izvena, jin athchilozar ma khaleenisoon. Vosak ofrakha year vosecchi, anha astak yeraan asqoy. (It is forbidden to lie with a Khal's widow. No one will touch you, you have my word.)"

Despite her requests for the Dothraki to take her back to Meereen, Daenerys was instead sent to the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen in Vaes Dothrak where the other widows of dead Khals live. For the rest of their days they'd live out their lives. Daenerys, however, was not the kind of woman to be kept confined for the rest of her life – knowing the other crones hate her, thinking the Dothraki should not interbreed with other races.

Tonight, the Dragon Queen formulated a plan to eliminate the Khals Brozho, Rhallko, Porrzho, Moro and Qorro and take absolute control of the Dothraki—with the aid of two priestesses she befriended. During the Khalar vezhven, the Khals argued about how to deal with Daenerys; Moro wanted her to join the Dosh Khaleen, Porrzho expressed interest in her and Qorro suggested selling her to the Wise Masters in exchange for 10,000 horses.

Daenerys, however, dismissed them all.

"Anha nesak rekke anha kovarak. (I know where I am)," she tells them. "Anha ray dothra jinne hatif ajjin. Hazze, she haz sorfo, anha adakh zhores vezhoon. Ma Dosh Khaleen hake yal anni Vezh Fin Saja Rhaesheseres. (I have been here before. Right there, on that spot, I ate a stallion's heart. And the Dosh Khaleen pronounced my child the Stallion Who Mounts the World.)"

"Ma fini meliso? Yer shille maege, ven tokik. Enta yeri Rhaego driva haji yeroon. Majin Khal Drogo akka. (And what happened? You trusted a sorceress, like a fool. Your baby Rhaego is dead because of you. And so is Khal Drogo)," Khal Morro countered.

"Jinne zhey Drogo ast asqoy vidrie khalasares mae jim, finnaan nakhoe rhaesheser. Dothralat hrazef ido yomme Havazzhifi Kazga ven et vo khal avvos. Me ast asqoy addrivat mahrazhis fini ondee khogar shiqethi ma ohharat okrenegwin mori. Me ast asqoy anhaan. Hatif Maisi Krazaaji, kash shieraki vitihir asavvasoon. (This is where Drogo promised to take his khalasar west to where the world ends. To ride wooden horses across the black salt sea as no khal has done before. He promised to kill the men in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses. He swore it to me. Before the Mother of Mountains, as the stars looked down in witness.)"

The other Khals laughed amongst themselves. "Ma yer ven toki ven yer shillo mae. (And you were dumb enough to believe him.)"

"Ma jinne, ajjin, fin vaese zhokwa jerie Khali Vezhveni? Fin vaesish vemrasoe yeri, finsanney nayat vil ahilee yeri, finsanney hrazef aqaffi yeri k'azhi. Yeri mahrazhi zhikwi. Torga yeri, Dothraki yanqosoraan zhikwi. Vos at yeroa venoe idrilat mora vosecchi. Vosma anha venok. Majin anha vidrik. (And here, now, what great matters do the Great Khals discuss? Which little villages you'll raid, how many girls you'll get to fuck, how many horses you'll demand in tribute. You are small men. Under you, the Dothraki will be a small people. None of you is fit to lead them. But I am. So I will.)"

Khal Morro didn't take that threat lightly and quickly stood up. "Athgoshar. Vos Dosh Khaleen ha yeraan. Athvokkerar yeri. Ha rekaan, ha jinaan, kisha ahileki yera k'athmajizari. Majin kisha vazhaki dothrakhqoyoon kishi hilelat yera. (All right. No Dosh Khaleen for you. Instead we'll take turns fucking you. And then we'll let our bloodriders fuck you)," he tells her. "Majin hash zhille athzinari yeri vekha, hash kisha vazhaki ekh hrazefaan kishi. Hash yer ray tih kifinosi hilee hrazef chiories? Jini vekhikh fin eth tihi yer hatif yer drivoe. Ma yer atihi mae. Hatif yer drivoe zhorre. Zhey gech yofi. Hash yer shillo k'athjilari mekisha asilaki yera? (And if there's anything left of you, we'll give our horses a turn. You crazy cunt. Did you really think we would serve you?)"

Daenerys smiled and laid her hand on a fire pit. "Yeri vos osili vosecchi. Yeri vadrivoe. (You're not going to serve. You're going to die)," she replies.

Pushing the fire pit onto the ground, Daenerys watches as the Khals cower away from the flames as she repeatedly topples more braziers down one by one – setting the floor of the hut aflame in mere seconds. Soon enough, the flame begins to cover the entire temple; when each structure begins to collapse in the inferno, one bars the doorway—preventing the Khals from escaping when they tried running for it to avoid the rapidly spreading fire. All they could do was watch and scream, helpless as the raging inferno engulfed them all—with Daenerys smiling as she watched them die, incinerating the entire Dothraki leadership. Their screams don't last long.

Outside, the Dothraki people gather around the burning temple. Eventually, the doors collapse before Daenerys herself emerges out of the fire, naked and unharmed. Her clothes were burnt off her body, but otherwise she was unfazed—the Dragon Queen had demonstrated her power and authority before the assembly. The Dothraki gazed in awe, horrified and fearful in equal measure, tens of thousands bow to Daenerys almost immediately with the rest of the Dosh Khaleen and the high priestesses not long afterwards.

"She vo Meereen. (On to Meereen)," she shouts orders. "Kisha hash zafra silve niyanqoy vo athvilajerar (We have a slave master alliance to fight)."

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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

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.

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Author's Note: The Sparrows strike first with a deceptive tactic of deploying a distraction against Daveth while the others go after Loras Tyrell. Although the Sparrows win the first round, the fight is just beginning as the Oathkeeper takes up his father's mighty war hammer to prevent another kidnapping. The Tyrells and Royces also plan on joining the fray against the Sparrows and help wrap the whole thing up ASAP. With Daveth feeling a slow ember evolving into a roaring flame, he has an idea as to who the Sparrows might target next.

And Daenerys Targaryen returns; although she gets caught, she decimates the Dothraki leadership and takes full control of the horde before ordering them to march on to Meereen—where she is expecting a Slave Master Coalition to attack the city-state.

Both are great leaders in their own right, but when they'll both inevitably clash—who will come out on top in the end? Thoughts? Let me know.

C.E.W: So now the Sparrows have struck, and have taken Ser Loras captive and are heading for Tommen and Myrcella. Boy the High Sparrow has made a grave mistake, and will soon face the wrath of the Oathkeeper.

Daenerys has won over the Dothraki, and are heading to Meereen to deal with the Slave Masters. If the Golden Company sides with her, she'll have an army big enough to invade the Seven Kingdoms and challenge Daveth.

Daenerys will no doubt be Daveth's... greatest challenge. She has three dragons, an very large and dangerous army. And seasoned warriors such as Jon Connington, Jorah Mormont if he is cured of his Greyscale. Euron Greyjoy depending the circumstances and if Yara is there, they may seek revenge against Daveth for their people.

Daveth has united Westeros under his banner, and is a far better King than his father ever was. He has the love of almost all the Smallfolk and nobles alike. Daveth is a skilled battle commander, and ruler, whose spent his entire life working to unite Westeros and create a golden age of prosperity for the people of the Seven Kingdoms of the realm of Westeros.

domgk115: Another fantastic few chapters, one of the things I love is how close you stick to the show and books. It sticks close to them, without being exact word for word copies. I see some fics that go completely off the rails where Jon ends up on a dragon 5 episodes in and has magic fire breathing powers, or Robb suddenly becomes great at politics and red weddings Tywin instead. I love how it truly feels like GOT, it feels like this really could be the outcome had Roberts firstborn been a trueborn son. You don't make Daveth this ultra badass who solves every problem in minutes like some fics it's good to see.

My question is first off what were your thoughts on Game of Thrones season 8? It's gotten VERY mixed reviews and I was wondering if ur going to go in a completely different direction when it reaches that territory?

―I've heard the same response in my PMs about Season 8 and the finale itself. While I've not gotten to that part yet, I'm not ruling anything out about writing a different scenario. Still weighing my options. Like I said, it's a touchy subject for some people and I feel somehow it's not going to please everyone either way. It's a difficult question to answer. I'll try my best in the meanwhile though.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

xx. az. xx: Is anyone else shook after seeing the series finale cuz I am

birdy: wow i cant wait for the next chapter please please update as soon as you can thank you

10868letsgo: Yes, finally i want see what Daveth will do to the Sparrows.

Patty 4577: Oh come on man. Loras was a predictable target. Also a missed opportunity to instead have him go North. After all Ramsay's Rebellion is an excellent opportunity for Daveth to have him and Jaime leave the Capital. Reducing the number of targets the Sparrows can finds. Additionally Gendry and Mya can cause the smallfolk to rise up against the Sparrows in support of the Crown. Which means Daveth can portray himself and the crown as simply doing their duty and protecting them.

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Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper by DeadlyMaelstrom711

Within Maegor's Holdfast…

Daveth massaged the small bandage wrapped around his head. His mother-in-law Catelyn asked to see him, though by the time he was walking back to his room – his earlier temper had seemingly simmered down, though the Young Stag was still overall determined to wipe out the Sparrows for their recent transgressions. Ser Barristan walked alongside his former squire, never taking his eyes off him—whether it was due to the blow on the head he received, or fighting to suppress his inner demons once more.

Pushing the door to his chambers open, Daveth noticed his children playing with each other as Catelyn gently reminding them in a grandmotherly tone to be careful. Their candied plums remained untouched due to Catelyn herself determining they were not yet ready for sweets yet. In her hands she was a woven wooden circle bound together with twine; Tyrion watched with amusement as he drank his goblet of wine. Lyonel and Cassana stopped playing with their toys when they saw Daveth entering the room.

"Daddy!" they rushed him.

Catelyn and Tyrion turned towards him, though they both the bandage with dried blood on his head.

"By the Gods, what happened?" the Tully-turned-Stark matriarch asked.

"Sparrows tried to capture Tommen and Myrcella," Daveth calmly explained. "One of them ended up hitting me in the head with a club."

"Are you in pain?" asked Tyrion.

Daveth shook his head 'no'. Cassana looked up at her father and pointed at his head.

"Daddy go' e boo-boo," she piped up.

"I'm fine, Cass," he reassured his daughter.

"I kiss betta'?"

Daveth was amused at his daughter's gesture and felt a bit more relaxed. 'I swear she's just like you, Sansa,' he speculated before bending down at Cassana's eye-level. He watched his daughter hold his head with her small hands and felt Cassana plant a kiss on his bandages.

"Betta'?" she asked innocently.

The Young Stag nodded. "Better. Thank you, little firefly," he said appreciatively.

Cassana smiled sweetly and returned to playing with her dolls. Lyonel returned to playing with his wooden toys. Tyrion chuckled at the sight.

"She's showing herself to be quite the daddy's girl, nephew," he pointed out.

Daveth ignored his uncle's remark and stood back up. "Cat, Ser Barristan said you wanted to see me?"

Catelyn looked at her son-in-law. "We both did," she stated, referring to herself and Tyrion. "Our two houses have always been close, which is the reason why Sansa asked me to look after you in her stead until she returns."

"There's more going on than meets the eye. With trouble brewing in the North and here in the capital, even the rest of us can notice that the crown's heavy burden often weighs down on you when something becomes personal," Tyrion explained. "As such, Lady Stark and I have determined… that the situation is now a lot more complicated. But then, we all live complicated lives, don't we?"

"So why not tell us. I can see some wear and tear."

Daveth opened his mouth to speak but clamped it shut. 'Don't even think about lying to your family; they'll end up finding out eventually if you do,' he told himself. "There have been some rough patches," he said. "But with everything going on with these Sparrows, I feel myself slipping."

"Slipping? How bad is it?"

"When they went after Tommen and Myrcella, I really let loose."

"So you did what any other older brother would've done and defended—" Tyrion said before being cut off.

"It gets worse from there. I found myself starting to hum The Rains of Castamere under my breath moments after I killed them," Daveth interrupted. He spoke quietly so his children couldn't hear him. "Such dark and impulsive thoughts I could barely keep under control whenever I get this worked up."

The dwarf Hand of the King paused while sipping, looking surprised and somewhat concerned. Tyrion set the goblet aside and just stared at his nephew in the eyes, detecting a dangerous mix of inner turmoil and ruthless satisfaction butting heads with one another. Adept at playing the game of thrones, Tyrion knew that any further impact would eventually cause Daveth to snap when push comes to shove.

"But do you know the thing that does bother me?" he continued. "There's not a day goes by where I don't think about subjecting the Sparrows and every single people like them to every horrendous torture they've dealt onto others before ripping them out root and stem. It'd be too easy. But if I did that, if I went down that road again like I did with the Iron Islands, I'll never come back."

Tyrion and Catelyn sat there listening to Daveth opening himself up like this; Ser Barristan noticed too. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood at his side when he placed his hand under chin, scratching his white-haired beard.

"These are disturbing words, Your Grace," he noted. "But sometimes it is better to answer injustice with mercy. Show them that there is another way."

Daveth looked up at his former mentor. "I've tried that, Ser Barristan. I really did. But after what they've just done… they've left me no choice. The Sparrows are beyond redemption, and must be dealt with before more innocent people get hurt or worse."

"Then remind them of what truly matters. We squabble amongst ourselves and blame each other for our troubles while the people who matter suffer most. No life is worth living if we cannot be true to our better nature, Daveth." Barristan turned to leave the room before looking over his shoulder. "I'll oversee the plans to rescue the Knight of the Flowers. But try to find solace in what brings you joy. Spend it wisely, and with those who care for you."

Daveth watched Ser Barristan leave the room – most likely to arrange for the local security forces in organizing a search and rescue mission. By now Tyrell, Arryn, Lannister and Baratheon troops had already arrived in King's Landing as reinforcements against the insurgent Sparrow heretical movement. The Young Stag felt wearier upon expressing what he felt; all while Catelyn placed her prayer wheel for the Faith of the Seven down on her lap – sewing on the finishing touches before hanging it up on table.

"Making those lately, Lady Stark?" Tyrion asked.

Catelyn shook her head. "You wouldn't understand, Lord Tyrion. Only a mother makes one for her children to protect them. Only a mother can make them."

"Didn't you make one before when Bran had his accident?" Daveth asked.

"Twice. I prayed for my son to survive—which he did after quite some time passed us by. I imagine Cersei told me the same thing when she mentioned how sick you were; almost died if I remember right."

The Young Stag had faint flashbacks, but each one was more distant than the other.

"Gods be good, I wasn't an ideal mother," she said.

"What do you mean?" Daveth asked curiously. He hadn't heard Catelyn say that before and pictured her as the ideal embodiment of House Tully's words Family, Duty, Honor.

Catelyn sighed. "Many years ago, one of the boys at Winterfell came down with the pox. Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he'd live. But it would be a very long night. So I sat with him all through the darkness; listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, and his whimpering."

"Who's?"

"Jon Snow."

Tyrion was suddenly interested. "Jon Snow? Ned Stark's bastard?" he asked.

Catelyn nodded. "When Ned brought that baby home from the rebellion, I couldn't bear to look at him. I didn't want to see those brown stranger's eyes staring up at me. So I prayed to the Gods, 'take him away. Make him die.' He got the pox. And I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived. A murderer. I'd condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother. A woman he didn't even know."

"So what did you do?"

"I prayed to all Seven Gods, 'let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him. I'll beg my husband to give him a true name, to call him a Stark and be done with it, to make him one of us.'"

"And he lived?"

"And he lived," she confirmed. "But I didn't keep my promise. I couldn't love a motherless child."

Daveth shook his head as he listened to Catelyn lamenting on her failures; this would explain why she treated Jon Snow terribly—he never knew him that well, other than the occasional glance or two when the royal party arrived at Winterfell five years ago. But then again, after spending some time with Eddard Stark during his tenure as Hand of the King and his Regent, the Young Stag concluded his deceased father-in-law was an honorable man—it didn't match his character as someone who'd randomly have sex with some random woman in his youth.

"It's not too late to amends, Cat," Daveth suggested.

She looked uncertain. "Sometimes I wonder."

"Only if you give up on yourself does it become that much more complicated." The Young Stag places a hand on Catelyn's shoulder. "Things will never easy for us anytime soon, but holding on to the past like that isn't healthy."

That last remark seemed to make Catelyn chuckle a bit. "You've grown since last time," she mentioned.

"Must've been Sansa's doing," he remarked and sighed.

Lyonel whined. "I wan' ma' mommy."

Daveth turned to his son. "I know you do, pup. I miss her too."

"Daddy?" Cassana looked up at her father and stretched her arms out. "Uppie!"

The Young Stag rolled his eyes and lifted his daughter up before placing her on his lap. Cassana hugged her father and buried her face in his chest. Lyonel pouted and demanded he be picked up too; much to Catelyn's amusement. Daveth lifted his son with one arm, but even then the young Prince would still be playing with his toys—often hitting the Young Stag on the arm of chest.

"Ow! Lyonel, that wasn't nice!" He turned to his mother-in-law. "Seriously, how is it that you and Sansa are both able to make this look so easy?" Daveth complained.

Catelyn smiled. "It takes time and practice, Your Grace. And especially patience."

"Trust me, Cat, Sansa is much more patient with these two than I am. Has been since the day they were born."

At the Small Council chambers…

"Unbelievable," Ser Kevan bemoaned. "To think they'd even attempted such a feat. These Sparrows would've never dared set foot in King's Landing when Tywin was alive."

"We're here, he's not," Randyll reminded them. "And when we're faced with sedition, it's best to rout them out before more chaos ensues."

Just then, Margaery pushed a set of doors open, entering the Small Council chambers and angrily puts her hands on the table. She heard of Loras's capture by the Sparrows and went to confront the King's advisors.

"Why is my brother in Sparrow captivity?!" the Princess Consort demands.

Mace, Randyll, Trystane, Olenna, Varys, Pycelle, Yohn, Tommen and Myrcella all turned to look at her. Lord Tyrell was more concerned and worried for both his children; Randyll remained stern and strict. Varys was still mysterious; the Grand Maester a bit apprehensive as was Prince Trystane. Myrcella thankfully maintained her composure while Tommen seemed more surprised at his wife's reaction than anyone else.

"We-we're doing everything we can," he tries to calm her down. "The Sparrows caught us all off-guard. Don't worry, Margaery. We'll get Ser Loras back. I promise."

Margaery pinched the bridge of her nose. "Your brother is the King of the Andals, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, the Protector of the Realm. And you let a band of fanatics take you all by surprise? My brother could be rotting away in some grimy, bygone cell at who-knows where."

"Hey!" Myrcella balked. "We both know who's to blame for this outrage, Margaery, but don't even think about blaming my brother for what the Sparrows themselves did. Not in front of me."

Yohn decided to play the role of mediator. "My lords and ladies, Your Highnesses, let us see reason. The High Sparrow and his followers have been planning this for quite some time: to get us fighting amongst ourselves instead of standing together as a united front."

"Lord Royce is right," Ser Barristan arrived with Ser Jaime in tow. "We both came here for the same reason: to free Ser Loras of House Tyrell and repelling the Sparrows from terrorizing those we are sworn to protect."

"Just recently additional troops from the Westerlands and the Reach have arrived through the city gates and will maintain constant vigilance," Jaime explained. "Since the City Watch is stretched real thin, we though they could use a little bit more reinforcements while we narrow the search for the High Sparrow and the Sparrow's location."

Margaery sat down, burying her face in her hands in exasperation. "How long can we expect word on the search?" she steadily asked a bit more calmly.

Varys chimed in. "My little birds are scouring through every corner of the city as fast as they can. When they find out where the Sparrows have taken Ser Loras, we will know at once."

Tommen takes his wife's hand and kneels down to look at her tenderly. "See? We've got a plan… well, it's a start but something's better than nothing right?" He turns to his father-in-law. "Lord Tyrell, I may not speak for my brother but our houses are bound by blood too. I'll take full responsibility for this. You'll all see Ser Loras again. I promise."

Mace looked grateful. "Thank you, Prince Tommen," he sighed with relief.

Olenna, however, was more skeptical—not too eager to get her hopes up prematurely. "And what of the aid?" she requests. "You know, I didn't trust Lord Tywin. I didn't particularly like him. I didn't trust your brother King Daveth when we first met, either. But I respected them. He was his grandfather's protégé just as my granddaughter was mine. They both understood that sometimes we must work with our rivals rather than destroy them."

"That time is now," Barristan said. "Together, the combined Lannister and Tyrell armies are among the largest in Westeros. We'll bring them into the city, restore the King's peace and bring Loras back into our custody."

"You know I never thought of you who'd include himself into such affairs of this council, Ser Barristan the Bold."

The old Kingsguard shook his head. "I always hated the politics. Robert did not include me, which I didn't mind. But Daveth on the other hand insisted I take part in it. 'You're the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. As such, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you have a seat on the Small Council,' he told me. So like it or not, this is much bigger than our own wants."

Myrcella overlooked a detailed structural map of King's Landing. "These marked entry points have been Sparrow sightings," she pointed. "Our men should be able to narrow the field here, here, and here while the City Watch close off any potential means the Sparrows could use to escape or pop up anywhere. Uncle Kevan, you're the commander of the Lannister armies. What do you think?"

Kevan looked deep in thought. "A sound strategy, but we must always be prepared should the worst come to pass. We could post sentries right… here, atop the ramparts. That way they could warn our men on the ground and the City Watch of potential sightings."

"The whole thing will be over before anyone will realize what's happened," Jaime said. "And when the High Sparrow is in custody or dead, preferably, do you think people will care at the outcome?"

"But we must also take great care," Yohn warned. "There's no telling what could happen if these fanatics find themselves backed into a corner. If things don't go as planned, many will die."

"Many will die no matter what we do," Olenna countered. "Better them than us."

Randyll huffed. "So it's decided then?"

"Aye," they agreed.

"Then the hour has come to take the fight directly to the Sparrows," Mace bellowed. "Madness has plagued the streets and grasped in its claws my son. But now we must drive it back under the rocks whence it came. Madness has had its day!"

'Oh shut up, ponderous oaf,' Olenna mentally chastened her son.

Randyll must've been thinking the same thing as his liege lord's mother, but he agreed that the Sparrows had to be dealt with now. With the armies patrolling the streets, all they had to do was encircle them and pluck them out—every single one of them. Myrcella and Tommen looked at each other, nodding that they themselves had to step in on Daveth's behalf. They promised to help their brother, and now was the time to do just that.

Both were determined to demonstrate how far they've come, though one was more confident than the other.

In an unknown cell…

The room was damp and dark, with only a few dozen candles illuminating the area. A somewhat disheveled Ser Loras shifted into his chair—knowing full well that his hands were tied behind his back and his feet chained to keep him still. The Knight of the Flowers had no weapon as it was forcibly removed from him during his capture. His hair was messy and undone and he had grown matted beard.

Beside him were the chained up members of the Most Devout: Rosyn, Luceron, Raynard, Torbert, Russal, Moelle and Helicent. Each of them struggled against their restrains, but they were glared upon by several armed Sparrows. By what was new about them were dried up blood from their faces; to show their newfound devotion to their leader, each Sparrow carved the symbol of the Faith of the Seven, the Seven-Pointed Star, onto their foreheads.

"Heathens! How dare you threaten us!" exclaimed Torbert.

"Untie us this instant!" shouted Raynard.

"Be silent, sinners!" yelled one of the Sparrows.

Loras's eyes squinted uncomfortably when the light shone into his eyes, but he could see the High Sparrow approach him—smiling in an intimidating, serious and threatening manner yet sounding so reassuring and tender.

"You are aware of the rumors concerning you and Renly Baratheon?" he interrogated.

"I don't pay attention to the rumors," Loras dismissed.

"You were said to be despondent when he died. Witnesses said that you refused to leave his bedside, even as Stannis' army closed in. Even the war was already coming to an end until storming off to lay siege to King's Landing."

'Lay into me all you want, old man, but you won't break me,' he mentally warned him. "Renly was my friend. I was his squire for many years. He was my King." Loras quickly shut his mouth, realizing what he just said.

"Wasn't Daveth your rightful King?" the High Sparrow asked. "He was anointed by the Seven, not Renly."

"I only realized my mistake after the Battle of the Blackwater. I know that. Despite everything I did, Daveth forgave me and pardoned me for my crimes. I fought for him during the Second Greyjoy Rebellion."

"You were wearing Renly's armor."

"What does it matter what I wore in battle or not?"

"Do you deny all the charges against you? Fornication, buggery, blasphemy."

'That's double jeopardy, old man!' Loras wanted to scream. He kept silent because he knew one wrong step could land him in serious trouble. "Of course I deny them," he disputed. Even if everyone knew if the charges were true, the Knight of the Flowers would not admit to allegations hurled against him.

"You never lay with Renly Baratheon?"

"Never."

"Nor any other man?"

"Never."

The High Sparrow smiled. "Bearing false witness before the Gods is as grave a sin as any, Ser Loras. Our benefactor suggests otherwise."

"'Benefactor'?" Luceron said confused. "What are you talking about?"

One cue, the prison door opens up to reveal the Sparrow movement's primary benefactor—diverting funds to their cause and providing armament for each member. The individual was big-boned with callused hands holding both a beating rod and a Faith scripture and had a scowling homely face. The chained up Most Devout were utterly shocked and horrified as they recognized who stood beside the High Sparrow.

"Unella?! You—?!" Raynard exclaimed.

"Why? How could you do this to us?" demanded Luceron.

"Why?!" shouted Russal.

"Shame! Shame! Shame" yelled Helicent.

Unella, one of the Most Devout, was revealed to be the High Sparrow's benefactor and inside source. She remained undeterred at the screams and shouts her former fellow clergymen directed towards her and smacked Loras on the head with her rod.

*BAM!*

"Gah! Hey!" Loras shouted, unable to massage his head.

"Confess," she demanded.

"I've told you what you wanted! Now let me go! Let us go!"

"Confess."

"Do you have cobwebs in your ears?"

*BAM!*

"Ow! Cut it out!"

"Confess."

"I am the heir to Highgarden. My sister is Princess Consort and I demand you let us go!"

*BAM!*

"Gnagh!"

"Confess."

Loras was getting more pissed. "STOP HITTING ME THIS INSTANT!" he yelled.

Septa Unella slams the scripture book closed and approaches the Knight of the Flowers aggressively. Loras was ready tear her out with his teeth and jumped in his seat, but the wooden legs became loose and he fell onto his side.

"Septa Unella can be overzealous at times," the High Sparrow explained. "But together we'll wipe the slate clean and right the wrongs and injustice caused by sin as it was before the Faith was broken."

"'Right wrongs and injustice caused by sin'? All you're doing is twisting and perverting our Holy Faith's tenants!" Rosyn balked. "Your followers attack the people blood and harass them relentlessly. This is not what the Faith teaches!"

"We are an army that defends the bodies and souls of the common people. By allowing perversion, corruption and sin go unpunished, all of you are sinners in the light of the Seven. When Ser Loras here atones for his sins, so will the rest of you."

Torbert's face twisted with fury. "You are the sinners! And you, Unella, you will burn in the Seven hells for what you've done!"

"You all broke the sacred laws and will be punished accordingly."

Loras lifted his head up from the mud. "Others will hear of this," he warned them. "They will come for you eventually."

The High Sparrow did not appear concerned in the slightest. A small child entered the room holding a tray of water and porridge.

"Seven blessings, mister," the child said.

"Seven blessings, young one," the High Sparrow patted his head and gave him a piece of candy.

The child placed the tray down and left the room. Behind him he could hear more beatings and demands of 'confess' before finally turning the corner and out of sight. He couldn't risk any of the Sparrows spotting him until he was absolutely certain he was alone. Turning the corner, the child bumped into a tall woman with short black hair, blue eyes and dressed masculinely with leather clothes. Her friend, other hand, was a short, buxom woman.

"Sorry, lady," he apologized.

Myranda patted the child's head. "No apologies are necessary, dear child. Are you hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Were you followed?" Mya asked.

He shook his head again. "No, but I was told to find anything and deliver it to you so it can be sent to Lord Varys," he handed over a rolled piece of paper.

Myranda took it and examined the contents. Mya nodded her head and ushered the boy away so he'd blend in the crowd. The lady Royce looked towards her friend.

"Well, this is something," she said seriously. "We found them. Everything we could possibly need is right here. Time to pay the King a little visit, don't you think?"

"Indeed," her friend agreed. "Time to report our findings to Lord Royce… and my brother."

Chapter End

Author's Note: Daveth cools himself off with his uncle, mother-in-law and two children whilst his royal councilors plot their next course of action. In the meantime, the Sparrows' benefactor is revealed and the Most Devout themselves were apprehended by the fanatical movement. Sometimes simply talking to someone about how you're feeling can relieve some stress, though others do things differently – so how was the interaction between Daveth and Catelyn Stark? Myrcella takes a bold step in strategizing. Tommen decides to get himself involved. The intensity between the Crown and the Sparrows are heating up. Thoughts? Let me know.

Zurver: Really love this chapter. Can't wait until when Daveth finally meet his bastard siblings

Oi Teme: Yeah he definitely needs some relaxing family time away from all that king stuff and sparrows. He may be King but he's a father and a husband as well and that's a nice conversation with his mother in law might be the start of her treating Jon better.

And it's nice that Mrycella and Tommen having his back in times like this. And it's fun to see the Tyrells getting some screen time I'm a fan of em except for Margaery manipulating a little boy.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: Wonder if the sparrow awake or ven slightly bothered about the te Walkers? They are a bigger problem to deal with.

birdy: WOW WHAT A READ I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER PLEASE UPDATE AS SOON AS YOU CAN PLEASE

10868letsgo: Awesome!

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