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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 2,417Chapter 63: The King's Return

At King's Landing…

Queen Sansa Stark sat by her window, threading her sewing needle through the silk linens in her palm – continuing her delicate line of exquisite embroidery, something she was always good at since she was a little girl. It had been over three months since King Daveth left the capital, and still no word from the Master of Whisperers yet; the feeling of uncertainty was almost nerve-wracking. True to her word, Sansa remained by the window waiting for her husband's return. Letting the stitches slip between her fingers for just a moment, Sansa rubbed her now four-month pregnant belly, massaging it gently. It had grown noticeably larger since she was last examined, though no one dared say anything.

Her sister, Arya Stark, made her way into the room. Bold as always, she snuck up behind her elder royal sister before giving her a rather unwelcomed surprise.

"Raarh!" she shook her.

"Aaah!" Sansa shrieked. "Arya! You know I hate it when you do that!"

Arya laughed at Sansa's complaints, even as Lady popped her head up to see what the disturbance was before settling down. Their mother, Catelyn, on the other hand, was not amused.

"Arya, how many times have I told you no more scaring your sister?" she scolded.

The young she-wolf shrugged her shoulders. "Just trying to lighten the mood, mother. Sansa's been sitting by this window sewing her stitching needle for hours now."

"Arya, apologize to your sister."

She frowned at her mother's continued scolding and glanced over to Sansa's direction. Once Sansa removed her hand over her heart and regained her composure, Shae went to work fixing her mistress's hair – brushing it until it shone brightly when exposed to direct sunlight. But before Arya could open her mouth to say anything, there was a knock on their door.

*KNOCK!*

"Excuse me, Your Grace, but Lord Varys is here to see you. Says it's urgent," the royal steward announced.

Sansa looked at the door. "Show him in," she called out.

When the door had finally opened, Varys stepped inside – his hands tucked within his golden-orange sleeves. Arya and Catelyn didn't trust the eunuch, but Sansa was reliant on the Spider for information if she had questions that needed answers. Varys agreed to utilize his network of spies and relay any information he could gather in his web… for the people's sake.

"Thank you for granting me an audience, Your Grace," he said smiling. "May I?"

Sansa nodded and waved her hand, permitting Varys to sit in the nearest chair. The Master of Whisperers eased himself down into a seat and put his hands together.

"My little birds bring word from the north. The war is over."

"And how do you know of this?" Catelyn asked.

"Knowledge is my trade, my lady. I recall telling you this back at one of Littlefinger's brothels."

"Please, Lord Varys," Sansa pleaded, "tell me: what of my husband? What news do you bring about the King, Daveth?"

"Such a dutiful wife," Varys sympathized. "My little birds tell me that His Grace sustained his fair share of injuries, but the Oathkeeper remains strong and emerged victorious on the battlefield once more. Not a bad feat for one so young. He is bound for the capital as we speak."

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders knowing that Daveth is alright. Even better now that she knows he's coming home; Varys, on the other hand, wasn't done yet.

"But I believe the damage has already been done."

Sansa looked back at Varys, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It pains me to tell you this, Your Grace, but you should know…" he continued speaking softly, "the Iron Islands have been completely destroyed. With the exception of three, there are no ironborn left. And now the rains weep o'er his hall with no one there to hear."

Sansa, Arya and Catelyn were wide-eyed with shock at this stunning revelation. Sure, they had long known that Daveth Baratheon suffered greatly when the ironborn took him captive after raiding Lannisport during the First Greyjoy Rebellion, but neither of them had ever expected Daveth's anger to be so great that he would be capable of inflicting such a level of destruction. Sansa felt her heart drop, her face filled with worry about the possibility of what her husband might be turning into. Varys sensed this, and placed a gentle hand on hers.

"Fear not, Your Grace," Varys reassured Sansa, "had Ser Barristan Selmy not been there, the Oathkeeper would have gone through with the deed. As I said, there are three ironborn remaining: Theon Greyjoy, his sister Yara Greyjoy, and their uncle Aeron Greyjoy. He plans to put the latter two on trial for their crimes at Ser Barristan's behest."

'Then… all is not lost, Gods be merciful,' Sansa hoped upon learning that Daveth stayed his hand. "Does that mean…?" she suggested.

"If you're asking whether or not the King can be saved from himself, I do not know, Your Grace. But the people believe that if anyone could pull it off, it's you. You are the Queen, and the people know the King adores his Queen. Daveth will need you now more than ever."

Sansa her chest tightening, her thoughts still wrapped around of Daveth destroying the Iron Islands; but if what Varys suggested was true, then a ray of light presented itself within the darkness. She would have a rather long, strenuous task with assisting in the progress of healing such a deep psychological scar.

Arya chimed in. "But why Theon? He was father's ward!"

Varys turned to face her. "Theon Greyjoy had been providing the King and Robb Stark with information that proved vital to ending the war. If he can be persuaded in the right fashion, the King just might be lenient to your friend. The Red Keep shelters two sorts of people, little she-wolf: those who are loyal to the realm, and those loyal to themselves. Your sister and the King have brought peace and prosperity to the realm, and the people love them both for it. I would hate to see any 'unsavory' element shatter it."

A question for the philosophers, one might add. Arya felt as if her head was spinning at arguing an ideological debate, but before anyone could chime in any further – the sound of ringing church bells and exclamations from the small folk throughout the city of King's Landing reached the Red Keep.

*DING DONG!*

*CHEERS!*

*APPLAUSE!*

Sansa placed her stitching down and rose from her seat, looking out the window as she saw numerous people gathering. It was hard to get a good view from on high, considering the position of the Red Keep. Arya and Catelyn observed this as well, as did Shae. Lady perked her ears up and looked at her mistress. Varys, meanwhile, remained seated.

"Ah, perfect timing," the eunuch mused. "The King has returned."

"Lady, stay!"

Lady whined with golden eyes, sad and knowing, as Sansa didn't even bother waiting for any responses since she immediately darted out of the room to welcome Daveth home after being separated from one another for months. Despite the cries of her sister, mother and handmaiden, she had to see him. Sure her feet were aching with each step she took and the occasional bout of nausea struck without warning, but Sansa Stark was determined to reach her destination.

Ariyana Dayne and Brienne of Tarth observed the pace the Queen was taking, and followed suit – one reason was to protect her, but the other was to ensure she didn't harm herself given her pregnancy.

"Your Grace, please slow down!" Brienne called out to her.

"Steady yourself, Your Grace," Ariyana hollered.

Sansa ignored her sworn shields and made her way down the steps of Maegor's Holdfast, across the serpentine steps through the middle bailey before entering into the outer yard with Brienne and Ariyana close behind her. Momentarily stopping due to nausea and sore feet, Sansa regained her composure with her head up before finally finding her way into the throne room to see all the applauding lords and ladies of the royal court welcoming the return of their King and his Kingsguard knights.

"Lords and ladies of the court," the royal steward announced, "all rise in the presence of Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Sansa quietly panted, having worn herself out from rushing to the Great Hall. Ariyana and Brienne finally caught up, and observed as Daveth ride into the throne room with Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Lucius Blackmyre and Ser Jaime Lannister alongside him. Sansa couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Daveth's rich black velvet torn with shredded pieces of leather dangling off his attire, revealing some skin; his face had one or two bruises on the left cheek whilst the right bore a laceration with dried blood staining his cheek. Even the blue scarf Sansa gave Daveth was slightly torn as the linen cloth still clung to his neck. And judging by the look in his eyes, Sansa believed her husband to be tired and worn out even as his stone-faced expression made it visibly apparent.

The sound of chains clanking soon broke Sansa's concentration. Tilting her head sideways, the Wolf Queen noticed Jaime Lannister leading the prisoners Yara and Aeron Greyjoy into the throne room in chains before spotting Theon still tied up with ropes. Lucius held onto Theon closely as the men dismounted from their horses and stood before the assembled courtiers. Soon enough other members of Daveth's family members and the other Small Council members each stood in attendance.

"Long may he reign!" the courtiers echoed.

Daveth ignored their heaps of praise as he approached the steps, with Cersei, Tyrion and Tommen watching as the Young Stag climbed the last pedestal to reach the Iron Throne. Momentarily staring blankly at it, Daveth shook his head and turned to face the gathered assembly; drowning out the applause and cheers, Daveth briefly turned his gaze towards his uncle Jaime.

"Take them to the Black Cells, Ser Jaime," he instructed. "And keep a close eye on them. They don't get out, no one gets in."

Jaime said nothing and gave a hard yank on the chain, jerking Yara and Aeron forward as they were led to one of the levels of dungeons within the Red Keep. The Black Cells are normally reserved for prisoners accused of high crimes such as treason, completely dark with no possible light sources except when jailers enter with torches. Yara kept her dark eyes glued on the Young Stag, staring at him intensely before being jerked forward again. As the two were led away, Daveth returned his attention to his lords and sat down on the Iron Throne, ignoring the stinging wince from his healing scars.

Standing beside him on his right was his grandfather and Hand of the King Lord Tywin Lannister, raised his hand with a courtesy so cold it was like the courtiers would freeze as the thunderous applause and cheering were immediately silenced. Sansa stepped towards the Iron Throne to stand at her husband's left side. Daveth was worn out, but he had a sworn duty to fulfill as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Once the murmurs died down and the room was filled with silence, he quietly inhaled through his nostrils and exhaled before opening his mouth to speak.

"Lords and ladies of the court," he begun, "after months of… strife and conflict, the Crown is pleased to announce that the war with the Iron Islands has come to an end. The traitor and usurper Balon Greyjoy and all who followed him have been brought to justice. Never again will any city residing along the western coast live in fear or be at risk to the ironborn's brutish tradition of reaving or plundering."

Sansa eyed her husband before noticing Cersei watching them both. The Wolf Queen broke eye contact as Daveth continued his speech.

"As a consequence for their past transgressions, we have determined that Yara Greyjoy and Aeron Greyjoy will stand trial within these chambers on the night of the harvest moon."

Cersei watched as her son briefly fell silent, his hands gripping the handle of the Iron Throne; his shoulders tensing up before relaxing. This was hard on him, but there was something deeper that even the Golden Lioness couldn't comprehend. If it was her sitting on the throne, she would have had them put to death right then and there. Which begs the question: what was holding Daveth back? What stayed his hand?

"This victory belongs to each of us, but we must also remember what it took to end this war."

Sansa began fidgeting her thumbs, intertwining her digits as Tywin observed his grandson – watching and paying attention to every detail.

"From Last Hearth to Highgarden, each of the constituent regions throughout the Seven Kingdoms once again demonstrated that if war teaches us anything it is that anything is possible when we work together. If we can put aside our differences and put down our grievances long enough, to truly come together as one, imagine what we can accomplish."

Hopeful murmurs began spreading throughout the court; each of the gathering lords and ladies turned to one another, gossiping about the royal declaration being told. Daveth paused for a moment, closing his eyes briefly as the voices of the past rang through his head.

"The path laid before you will always remain a constant struggle, and every day you will face obstacles. Yes, you may stumble or even stray from the path… but there are still people out there who care for you; who want to help you."

"No more must you grieve for us, my boy. Take the pain and the guilt, acknowledge it, and let go."

"You have such a long road ahead of you, Your Grace, and you must be prepared to face it. All our trust and faith is now on your hands. We know you'll do the right thing in the end. It is time."

"We'll always be with you."

"Set your eyes on the horizon."

Daveth opened his eyes once more and stood from the Iron Throne to observe the assembly, his posture straightened and tall and his voice calm and filled with vigor and purpose.

"The road to recovery will take time, but we can rebuild what we have lost; our homes, our armies, our future… A future paid for by the noble sacrifices of all those who fought and died to make it so. And while we still have many challenges ahead of us, never forget that no matter where you're from, you are not alone. We will persevere, the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms will remain whole, and we will honor those who gave their lives to give us that future. Seven blessings to all."

"Seven blessings."

With that, Daveth looks to his left and right and motions for his family to follow him. The Young Stag makes his way out of the throne room, accompanied by Sansa, Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion, and Tommen. Sansa, initially filled with worry, was relieved after observing her husband rather closely. At first the Wolf Queen feared that the Second Greyjoy Rebellion would turn Daveth into someone she believed he wasn't, that his personal vendetta would consume whole and seal his fate; but Sansa listened to his words very closely to determine whether or not he was being truthful or deceitful.

As soon as they were certain they were at last alone, Tyrion was the first to speak up.

"That was very nice back there, nephew," the Imp said. "Moving, eloquent even."

Daveth sighed. "Please don't tell me you're going to start singing a song now."

"You wound me. Don't worry, I'm not that cruel."

"I'm just glad you're back home in one piece, brother," Tommen piped.

"As am I, Tommen," the elder Baratheon replied. "The last three months have been rather strenuous at best."

Cersei eyed him closely. "So tell me, son. You mentioned a trial. Why not simply punish them instead? I would have put them to the sword and be done with it."

Daveth glanced over his shoulder to look at his mother. "You really think having a crown gives you power? No. When your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Otherwise, no man will ever bend the knee. With the king's peace and the king's justice restored, the Greyjoys no longer have the strength or resources to resist us."

Cersei displayed a disappointing scowl while Lord Tywin studied his grandson in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes.

"So you say," she continued.

"You disapprove. Why?"

"The Greyjoys wronged you. Deeply. You had them at your mercy, and you instead opted to put them on trial? What gave you that notion?"

Sansa decided to intervene. "I'm sure cutting off heads is very satisfying, mother-in-law, but that's not the way you get people to work together. Daveth is our King. And I'm sure he is doing what he thinks is best."

"Best for whom?" she challenged stiffly.

"My decision is final," Daveth retorted. "Yara and Aeron Greyjoy will stand trial, and I will not hear another word of it. Now, unless there's other… important…"

The Young Stag felt dizzy from a wave of exhaustion, shaking his head to wake himself. It had been a long day and the voyage back to King's Landing was even longer; he hadn't had enough time to rest properly before he had to give the royal announcement just moments earlier. Grand Maester Pycelle and Varys watched on at this development. As Sansa, Tyrion and Tommen all moved to check on Daveth, Tywin Lannister noticed his grandson's change in posture.

"The King is tired. See him to his chambers," he said coolly. "And fetch him a new pair of clothes if possible."

Cersei immediately moved to Daveth, but Sansa beat her mother-in-law to him first. The Golden Lioness again scowled and frowned deeply at this act. How dare this younger, more beautiful woman lay a hand on what was rightfully hers? Tommen traded glances back and forth, and hesitantly stepped aside once he was reassured his eldest brother would be properly taken care of. The sun was going down, after all; now would be the appropriate time for Daveth to get some rest. The Hand of the King and the other Small Council members could take some of the burden off the Young Stag's shoulders for a while longer until he's well enough.

"Grand Maester, perhaps some Essence of Nightshade to help him sleep."

Pycelle nodded and left to his chambers to prepare some nightshade for the exhausted young King. Daveth brought his hand to cover his face. Was he so tired that he kept his inner thoughts suppressed for so long? It wasn't healthy, but there was only so much he could possibly take. Daveth nonetheless remained aware of his limitations, and did not argue with his grandfather's instructions as the party departed to their respective chambers.

Only Cersei remained behind, her emerald-green eyes glued to the Stark Queen and her firstborn. It was faint, but a hidden animosity began to brew inside them.

######

In Daveth's chambers…

Nightfall had come; the stars shown bright in the skies above and the lit candles filled the houses across the city below. When the door had opened, King Daveth I Baratheon wearily slinked his way into the royal bedchamber with his wife Queen Sansa Stark in tow. In his hands contained a small cup containing dreamwine diluted with a single drop of Essence of Nightshade concocted by Grand Maester Pycelle to help King Daveth sleep. He looked as he was in need of it, given how exhausted he looked in front of everyone.

Sansa closed the door behind her as Daveth set the small vial down and removed his ruined shirt. The Wolf Queen noticed in the moonlight the healed but visible scars bearing across her husband's body aside from the one she saw on his left cheek: the one on his right shoulder, left pectoral on his torso and the one by his external abdominal oblique. Sansa had never seen her husband receiving such wounds like that since the Battle of Blackwater Bay. She was relieved that he was all right, but she still had questions.

"Husband," she spoke sweetly as she disrobed and changed into her nightgown.

Daveth looked over his shoulder. "Yes, my Queen?"

"Theon… you don't plan on having him executed, are you?"

"Seven hells, you northerners are so stubborn…" he groaned. "If I was, he would've been moved to the Black Cells on the third level. But instead Theon Greyjoy was confined to the second level where highborn captives and valuable hostages are kept."

"I know he's the son of a traitor who rebelled against the crown twice, but… but Theon was still my father's ward. If he helped you as you said he did, then perhaps some leniency could be given to him?"

"Even if I did, your friend would live under constant scrutiny in the North. His sister attacked Deepwood Motte, his uncle seized Moat Cailin…"

"I'm not asking you to forgive him for what his family did," Sansa shook her head. "All I ask of you is that you find it in your heart to spare Theon's life. Please."

Daveth sighed, looked at the cup in his hand and sat on the edge of the bed before looking back at her. "What would you have me do then?" he asked.

Sansa glanced at the bed, thinking long and hard about suggesting an alternative compromise that would hopefully convince her husband to spare Theon Greyjoy's life without provoking either Daveth or the North. Either way, someone was going to get criticized. Briefly biting her lower lip and rubbing her pregnant belly, Sansa looked back at Daveth – her eyes shining a crystal clear blue in the moonlight.

"Do you remember the tale of Harren the Black?" she asked.

Daveth nodded. "Of course. Harren Hoare, the King of the Isles and the Rivers, built his castle Harrenhal in the Riverlands, the largest castle in all of Westeros designed to withstand an attack from the land before it was reduced to a blasted ruin by Aegon the Conqueror's dragon Balerion. A million men could've marched on Harrenhal and a million men would've been repelled every time. But an attack from the air with dragonfire? Not so much. Harren and all of his sons were roasted alive, rendering House Hoare extinct. Why do you ask?"

"Ever since the War of Conquest, Harrenhal these days was said to be haunted. No other lord or lady would even set foot in those ruins. Its lands and incomes remained intact, but none dared live there," Sansa explained. "With the Iron Islands… uh, gone… why not apply the same method as Aegon Targaryen did? Theon won't be permitted on the island itself, of course, but perhaps I could convince Theon to bend the knee and in exchange you give him his life. 'When your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Otherwise, no man will ever bend the knee.' That's what you said earlier this morning, remember?"

Daveth listened closely at what Sansa suggested. Placing his hand under his chin, the Young Stag ignored the slow exhaustion and the vial in his other hand as he contemplated his wife's suggestion. Spare Theon, convince him to swear an oath of fealty and give House Greyjoy a chance at redemption… or execute him and remove the threat entirely? The Young Stag exhaled as he looked back to the Wolf Queen.

"You thought of it yourself?"

Sansa nodded.

"I'll think about it after the trial is concluded," he said as he gulped down the vial.

Daveth's face twisted as his taste buds made contact with the concoction.

"Ack!" he spat in disgust.

Sansa was pleased, implying that Daveth would take her thoughts into consideration. She lifted up the bedsheets and climbed into bed as her husband joined her. Daveth's head was slowly spinning, probably due to the dreamwine mixed with the Essence of Nightshade. He could feel Sansa's warm body pressing up against him, her left arm wrapping around his chest – brushing the tip of her fingers across his scars. Once the candles were blown out, Sansa reached up to plant a kiss on Daveth's cheek.

"Sleep easy, my love," she murmured into his neck. "We're here for you, me and the baby."

Daveth felt his eyelids getting heavy as he turned his head sideways, his nose resting atop Sansa's head. Sleep soon took him and his thoughts drifted into a deep sleep, relaxed at his wife's warm presence and comforting, gentle touch on him… and the feeling of her pregnant belly against his left arm.

'Her hair smells nice…' he whispered groggily.

Chapter End

######

Author's Note: The King has returned and Sansa was among the first of many to welcome him back to the capital. The Wolf Queen displayed several characteristics of a devoted, concerned wife and the boldness of offering her own suggestions regarding Theon Greyjoy. What do you guys think Daveth's speech presented? Was it genuine or a ploy? And what of Sansa's proposal? Thoughts? Let me know.

BioHazard82: Another good chapter.

―Thanks.

C.E.W: Good chapter, nice welcome home to Daveth and considering the hard work of putting down the Ironborn for good, I think he deserves some rest. Daenerys Targaryen will perhaps be Daveth's greatest rival for the Iron Throne. Having three dragons and an large army behind her back, it will be quite the war.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

i am your sire: the speech was a great peace of writing and was easy to place into the game of thrones world, nice work

―Thanks.

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter like always keep up the great work

―Thanks.

mpowers045: Cersei might be plotting something behind his back, I can feel it

Magi Tail Welkin: I would say Daveth's speech is genuine, but given the language he used as tired and worn as he was it could be interpreted as a ploy as he defaulted to using the cliche and standard political talk.

If I understand this correctly Sansa's suggestion is to make Theon Greyjoy Lord Reaper of Pyke and indeed Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, but keep him on the mainland? I don't know if that would work. It's a different set up to Harrenhal, the lands associated to that castle are close by and easily accessible. In Theon's case it would be like a government-in-exile. How would Theon administer and collect income on the islands if he's not allowed on them? Unless he used a third party of some kind.

And of course there is still the potential of Euron Greyjoy arriving on the scene at some point.

―The idea has been floating around quite a bit lately; I guess anything could be possible. Who'd object to that?

Hear My Fury: Excellent chapter. Really liked the interaction between Sansa and Daveth. I hope Theon is spared, but I won't complain if you decide to kill him. Might be a good change from the story. I hope Sansa tells Daveth about how his mother has been treating her. Also, quick question, is Varys now going to be more supportive of Daveth and Sansa because of how they're well loved by the people and have dealt with the Ironborn, or is he still hoping for the Targaryen restoration through Dany?

―No doubt Daveth will indeed hear about it from a certain somebody. The speculation regarding Varys's loyalty is still for interpretation, depending on who you ask. The YouTube video "Game of Thrones: Littlefinger v Varys - Battle of Ideologies" would give a good idea of where his loyalties truly lie.

GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: Think they should worry about Cersei trying to control him despite his warnings againts her, maybe threat to blackmail her using the secrets he learnt about her and Jaime

―Perhaps in one of their private moments; no doubt Cersei will deny it but Daveth already knows she's lying to him.