26 Riot of King's Landing
the docks in King's Landing…
The day had finally arrived. It was something Daveth had been dreading, but it had to be done. He had no choice but to see it through. A Dornish vessel had arrived near the docks to retrieve Princess Myrcella Baratheon and bring her to Sunspear as part of a pact made with the ruling royal House with House Martell. Attending with the rest of the royal family and their retainers, Daveth decides to send one of his own Kingsguard knights, Ser Arys Oakheart, to guard Myrcella as her sworn shield.
Prince Doran Martell had assured King Daveth that he will move his banners into the high passes once Myrcella was settled at Sunspear, though the Young Stag had to be assign someone to protect Myrcella just in case.
"You take care of yourself in Dorne now, you hear?" Daveth told his sister.
"Yes, Brother," Myrcella nodded.
"Do not show weakness. No tears. Always keep your head held high and be just as proud. Do not let your guard down even for a minute. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Brother."
"And… I meant what I said to you before. I'll write you as many letters as possible."
"You promise you'll come see me?" asked Myrcella.
Daveth nodded. "You have my word. I'll miss you, 'Cella."
Tears began to fill Myrcella's eyes. "Me too," her voice cracked.
It was a hard time for the royal House Baratheon. Myrcella was ready to depart on a journey by herself… without her family at her side. She didn't want to leave home, didn't want to leave her brother behind, but Daveth reminded her of her duties as a Princess and a Baratheon. It was important that she sees this through, as heartbreaking as this moment was. The only thing she'll be taking with her from the only home Myrcella's ever known is a golden lion trinket around her neck from her mother Cersei and a black stag cloak given to her by her brother Daveth.
The girl never wept. Young as she was, Myrcella Baratheon was a Princess and understood her duty. And a Lannister, despite her name, Tyrion reminded himself, as much Jaime's blood as Cersei's.
To be sure, Myrcella's smile was a shade tremulous when all three of her brothers took their leave of her on the deck of the Seaswift, but the girl knew the proper words to say, and she said them with courage and dignity. When the time came to part, it was twelve-year-old Prince Tommen who cried, and both Sansa and Myrcella who gave him comfort.
Daveth embraced his sister and stood beside Tyrion, Eddard, and Sansa. Tyrion watched his niece step onto the small boat, tears starting to slide down her face. The High Septon began praying to pass his blessings to Myrcella as she leaves for her voyage to Dorne. Sunlight caught in his crystal crown and spilled rainbows across Myrcella's upturned face. The noise from the riverside made it impossible to hear the prayers. He hoped the gods had sharper ears. The High Septon was as fat as a house, and more pompous and long of wind than even Pycelle.
"May the Seven guide the Princess on her journey," the High Septon prayed. "May the Mother give her health. May the crown give her wisdom. May the warrior give her courage."
Cersei Lannister sat down; her face devoid of emotion as she watched her only daughter leave. She had not spoken to her eldest son Daveth with a mother's tenderness – but rather a deep scorn. She watched as Sansa hugged Daveth from behind, hoping to ease his discomfort.
"My heart aches for you, my sweet King," Cersei heard Sansa say.
She had developed a deep distrust towards Sansa and her affection towards Daveth, one that was apparently reciprocated.
"You'll be queen, for a time. Then comes another, younger, more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear," was what Cersei remembered from her younger days when she asked the witch Maggy the Frog to tell her future.
Now Cersei couldn't help but believe that Sansa was the one aiming to take her place – despite the young Stark maiden's innocence and genuine affection.
'One day I pray you know what love feels like, my son,' thought Cersei. 'I pray you love her so much, when you close your eyes, you see her face. I want that for you. I want you to know what it's like to love someone, to truly love someone. Before I take her from you.'
She kept silent knowing full well what her eldest son would do in response if Daveth so much as heard such a vile threat directed at Sansa. Horns blew fanfares as Lionstar was pushed out from ashore, moving down the Blackwater Rush to clear the way for Seaswift. Myrcella tried to put on a smile as her lip trembled and waved from the deck beside Ser Arya Oakheart.
Tommen sniffled at seeing his sister leave, greatly irritating Joffrey.
"You sound like a little cat mewling for his mother," Joffrey hissed. "Princes don't cry. Neither should Kings."
"If that's what you believe, then why did I see you cry just now?" Daveth retorted.
Joffrey was incensed at the accusation. "Did you say something, Brother?"
"You heard me loud and clear, Illborn."
Sansa watched the two Baratheon brothers argue and tried to gently intervene.
"What he's trying to say is that it seems a normal thing," she suggested. "I mean, my little brother Rickon cried when I left Winterfell last year."
"Is your little brother a Prince?" Joffrey asked sarcastically.
Sansa shook her head. "No."
"Not really relevant then, is it?"
Eddard did not appreciate Joffrey's tone. "Best not to speak to my Daughter like that in front of me, Joffrey." he said firmly.
"Come now, all of you. It's time we return to the Red Keep," announced Daveth.
The royal party began walking up the steps, but Daveth felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. If what Eddard told him about the dwindling granaries, then the people in the city would likely starve; although at the same time it did bring a sense of hope now that the fertile lands of the Reach would resume sending crops to the capital.
######
On the streets of King's Landing…
The narrow streets were lined by men of the City Watch, holding back the crowd with the shafts of their spears. Ser Jacelyn Bywater went in front, heading a wedge of mounted lancers in black ringmail and golden cloaks. Behind him came the Kingsguard knights Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Boros Blount, Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Balon Swann, bearing the King's banners, a crowned golden stag on a black field.
Daveth followed on a tall grey palfrey, a golden crown set upon his black hair. Sansa and a dozen handmaidens walked alongside the Oathkeeper, looking neither right nor left, her thick auburn hair flowing to her shoulders. Two of the Kingsguard, Ser Meryn and Ser Preston, flanked the couple along with the Hand of the King Eddard Stark; Joffrey followed behind them with the Hound on his right; next came Tommen, snuffling, with Cersei and Tyrion and were being protected by Ser Boros and Ser Mandon; after them followed the High Septon in his litter, along with a long tail of other courtiers.
As they crossed Fishmonger's Square and rode along Muddy Way before turning onto the narrow, curving Hook to begin their climb up Aegon's High Hill, a few voices raised a cry as the Oathkeeper rode by.
"All hail the Oathkeeper!"
"Daveth!"
"Long live the King!"
"Hail to the King."
"Seven blessings on you, Your Grace."
'They're hungry,' Daveth speculated. 'I don't blame them for feeling the way they do, of course. But the supplies we are set receive from the Reach hasn't arrived at the gates yet.'
Bodrin, one of King Daveth's contacts amongst the smallfolk population, stood amongst them to approach the King and was accompanied by several smallfolk.
"You're blocking His Grace's path," warned Ser Meryn.
"I just seek a word, good ser," said Bodrin. "It's rather urgent."
Ser Meryn and Ser Preston didn't approve a commoner approaching royalty, but when they saw Daveth nod his head they begrudgingly stood aside to allow him access.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Grace," Bodrin apologized. "But can I have a word?"
"You may speak," Daveth granted his permission.
Eddard stood beside the Young Stag, watching this man as Bodrin inhaled.
"Your Grace, the people here are feeling the effects of the war. The toll, I'm afraid, is beginning to weigh down on most of them. No doubt you see plenty of their faces," he pointed out.
Daveth looked at the hundreds, maybe thousands of faces looking down at him. For every man who picked up the shout, some remained silent. Others, meanwhile, yearned for the answers they had hoped to get from the King who provided them security and safety among other things that were provided to them in the past year since his ascent to the throne.
"They're starving," Daveth said.
Bodrin nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. If I may ask, and I hope it's not unbecoming… when do you believe we'll begin receiving food again?"
Daveth looked at Eddard; the Stark patriarch seemed to understand what the Young Stag was telling him by only looking at his eyes.
"We've received word that Highgarden and the Reach have decided to end hostilities and will resume sending crops and other supplies to the capital," Eddard spoke up. "If the reports from the scouts are accurate, any available food will be distributed throughout the city within the next four days along the Roseroad."
"Four days?" said Bodrin anxiously. "I-It'll take that long?"
"The road to Highgarden from here is more than 750 miles," explained Daveth. "To travel from here to there and back would take time. But I assure you everyone here will be fed. You have my word."
A few murmurs began whispering from amongst the smallfolk to the other, wondering if what the King and Lord Hand was telling their chosen representative was true. Some had their doubts, but based on what their exchanges to each other were about it sounded rather hopeful. The Lannisters moved behind the King through a sea of ragged men and hungry women, breasting a tide of sullen eyes. Cersei was laughing at something Lancel had said, though he suspected her merriment was feigned. She could not be oblivious to the unrest around them, but Daveth knew his mother always believed in putting on the brave show.
"There's the bastard!" a voice called out.
The discussion between Daveth, Eddard and Bodrin stopped once they heard that. Cersei heard it too.
"His brother is not a true Baratheon!"
Daveth narrowed his eyes and leaned in to Eddard.
"Lord Stark…" he said quietly.
"WHAT'S THE HOLDUP UP THERE?" shouted Joffrey impatiently.
"Freak!" the crowd began shouting louder.
"He's nowhere near the man his brother is!"
Behind them, Tyrion turned to the guards and noticed a menacing look in one of the smallfolks's eyes.
"Get the Prince back to the Red Keep now," he ordered.
The Lannister guards grab Tommen and quickly walk away, while Tyrion tried to make his way up to the front to warn Daveth as people kept shouting as they saw Joffrey. Sansa saw a wailing woman holding her starving baby. It was small, filthy and mewling weakly, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Sansa reached in her coin purse and gave her 10 silver stags. The mother blinked once, and thanked the Stark maiden for her generosity.
"Leave her, little dove," Cersei called out to Sansa. "She's beyond our help, poor thing."
The mother heard the Queen Mother's comment. Somehow Cersei's voice cut through the woman's ravaged wits. Her slack face twisted in loathing.
"Whore!" she shrieked as she pointed at Cersei. "Kingslayer's whore! Brotherfucker!"
"Brotherfucker!" the crowed chimed in.
"Witch! Slut! Whore!"
"Brotherfucker!"
Daveth and Eddard turned to look behind them.
"Lord Stark!" Daveth shouted again.
Eddard nodded and motioned the guards and City Watchmen to pick up the pace, ignoring Bodrin's confusion. However, none of them were prepared for what happened next.
*SMACK!*
Eddard and Tyrion never saw who threw the dung that hit Joffrey square in the face. Sansa gasped and Joffrey bellowed a curse, and when he turned his head, the Prince was wiping brown filth from his cheek. There was more caked in his golden hair and narrowly spattered in front of Sansa's legs. The City Watch and Kingsguard drew their swords at the ready, startling the assembled crowd.
"WHO THREW THAT?!" Joffrey screamed in a blinding fury, shouting as he pushed his fingers into his hair and flung away another handful of dung.
"Joffrey!" exclaimed both Eddard and Daveth, knowing exactly what he was about to say next.
"Please, Prince Joffrey, don't—" Sansa pleaded.
Joffrey paid them no heed. "I WANT THE MAN WHO THREW THAT! FIND WHO DID THAT AND BRING HIM TO ME!" he shouted.
A tumult of sound drowned his words, a rolling thunder of rage and fear and hatred that engulfed the unpopular Baratheon from all sides.
"Hold!" one of the Watchmen shouted as they tried to hold the crowd off. "Hold them back!"
"JUST KILL THEM!" Joffrey commanded. "KILL THEM ALL!"
"JOFFREY!" Daveth shouted again, but to no avail.
From both sides of the street, the crowd surged against the spear shafts while the gold cloaks struggled to hold the line. What started as a courteous series of questions about food had quickly deteriorated into a full-scale riot instigated by King Daveth's younger brother Joffrey. In that instant, stones and dung and fouler things were whistling overhead. Tyrion spurred to his sister's side, yelling.
"Move! Move!" the Imp shouted.
Cersei gave a curt nod, and Lancel unsheathed his sword. Ahead of the column, Eddard Stark was roaring commands to his household guards. The City Watchmen lowered their lances and drove forward in a wedge.
*SLASH!*
Ser Meryn's sword slashed down, killing one of the rioters.
"Protect the King!" Ser Meryn shouted.
"Go, Daveth! Go!" shouted Eddard who followed alongside him.
"Tear him to pieces!" the rioters yelled.
Others fought to keep up the pace, few with swords in their hands. A few jagged rocks flew past the Oathkeeper's head as Daveth pushed forward, and a rotten cabbage exploded against Ser Balon's helmet. To their left, three City Watchmen were taken down by the mob under the surge before they darted forward, trampling the fallen men. Sandor Clegane grabbed Joffrey and held him close as the Illborn defiantly struggled in the Hound's grip.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I WANT THESE PEOPLE EXECUTED!" Joffrey shouted.
"And they want the same for you!" the Hound shouted back as he cut his way through the riot.
"Protect the King!" Ser Meryn shouted again as more Kingsguard quickly gathered around Daveth. "Get back!"
Ser Boros had blood smeared along his blade, while Ser Meryn's white cloak had been torn slightly. Ser Balon lost his helmet and was bleeding from the mouth. Eddard escorted Cersei and Tyrion inside the nearest building.
"There's the brotherfucker!" another rioter shouted as they saw Cersei.
"Fall back!" Ser Boros yelled.
Eddard looked around for his daughter, but to his growing fear and dismay he couldn't find Sansa amongst the rioting. He saw the High Septon spilling from his litter, screeching prayers as the crowd swarmed him. The High Septon screamed as one of the rioters tore the holy man apart, lifting a bloody arm in the air in cheer. Eddard couldn't do much for him now. He knows of his duties as King Daveth's Hand, but Eddard was a father first. He had to find Sansa before something bad happens.
'Forgive me, Your Grace, but I have to do this,' Eddard thought, pulling his sword out as he made his way back into the crowd. 'Hang on, Sansa! I'm coming!'
######
Inside one of the safe houses…
Once the royal party found a safe place to seek refuge from the chaos, a one of the alchemists approached to see if anyone was wounded.
"Are you hurt?" he asked Tyrion.
Tyrion felt winded. "I'm fine."
"TRAITORS!" Joffrey was babbling. "I'LL HAVE ALL THEIR HEADS."
Daveth was nearby and erupted in a fury. "DAMN YOU, YOU BLIND, BLOODY FOOL! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!?"
"YOU CAN'T INSULT ME!" Joffrey squealed from the ground. "YOU HEARD THOSE PEOPLE CALLING ME NAMES—!"
"WE'VE HAD VICIOUS KINGS AND WE'VE HAD IDIOT KINGS, BUT I DON'T KNOW IF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS HAS EVER BEEN CURSED WITH HAVING BEEN FORCED TO PUT UP WITH A VICIOUS IDIOT PRINCE!"
"YOU CAN'T—!"
"I CAN, I AM, AND I WILL, YOU SPOILED WITLESS LITTLE ILLBORN!"
"THEY ATTACKED ME!" Joffrey argued as he pointed to his dung-encrusted face.
Daveth refused to accept that as a logical argument. "THEY THREW A COW PIE AT YOU, SO YOU DECIDED TO KILL THEM ALL?!" he yelled in Joffrey's pace and poked him hard. "THEY'RE STARVING, YOU FOOL! ALL BECAUSE OF A STUPID WAR!"
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO INSULT ME!" Joffrey shouted.
*BAM!*
In the middle of the argument, Daveth's face twisted and turned purple and in his fury had punched Joffrey directly in the face, not even caring if dung had smattered on his knuckles. Apparently Daveth had hit Joffrey so hard he knocked out three of his brother's teeth and drew blood.
"AND NOW YOU'RE BEING PUNISHED ACCORDINGLY!" Daveth retorted at his fallen brother.
Joffrey whined as he held his bruised cheek as Cersei rushed over to kneel over her son, while Ser Lancel tried to rush but froze in fear as Daveth glared at him.
"Where is Lord Stark?! Where Sansa?!" he shouted.
For a moment no one answered.
"I don't know where they went…" Joffrey said finally as Cersei was wiping the blood from his mouth.
Daveth turned to his brother. "IF THE HAND OF THE KING OR HIS DAUGHTER DIES, THEN I SWEAR TO THE MOTHER I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE! You owe me quite a bit, you know."
He turned to grab his sword and marched towards the door, intending to get back out there.
"Your Grace!" Ser Mandon Moore shouted untroubled. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to find them," Daveth replied.
"Your place is here!" Cersei shouted. "Send Boros and Meryn to find—"
"Your Grace," Ser Boros told Cersei, not looking pleased at the prospect of leaving the safety of the castle, "the sight of our white cloaks might enrage the mob."
"THE OTHERS TAKE YOUR FUCKING WHITE CLOAKS!" Daveth shouted. "I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with such incompetence!" he argued and stormed out, ignoring the calls of Cersei and the other Kingsguard.
"Sansa…" he whispered.
Unbeknownst to Daveth, the Hound followed suit.
######
Back outside…
Sansa Stark had been separated from the others, from her handmaidens. Her pink dress had been dirtied slightly and her hair was coming undone. Panic began to fill her eyes as Sansa pushed her way through the crowd. Her path was soon blocked as four to six men surrounded her on all sides. Looking for an escape route, Sansa ran down an alleyway as the men began pursuing her.
"Where are you going?" they laughed wickedly.
She turned the corner into a nearby building, but Sansa saw no way out as one of the rioters grabbed her arm and spun her around.
"Let go of me!" Sansa shouted.
*SMACK!*
Sansa slapped the man across the face, but it didn't seem to faze him.
*WHAM!*
The rioter backhanded the fourteen-year-old Stark maiden across the face, sending her flying to the ground. Sansa whimpered and tried to crawl away, but felt the men grab both her legs and draw her backwards.
"Where are you going?" they hollered, as clothes are being torn.
"Please! Let me go!" Sansa whimpered as she kicked.
One of the men pinned her down and leaned in close to her ear.
"You ever been fucked, little girl?" he grinned.
'NO!' she realized what they intended to do to her. "NO!" Sansa finally shouted as she started thrashing with all her might.
"Come here!" they said, dragging Sansa closer.
Sansa screamed and continued thrashing and kicking as she desperately tried to get away, but to no avail as the men were too strong and held her arms down to stop them from flailing.
"No! Please!"
Sansa felt two of them grab her legs and try to pull her leggings down. The more she struggled to stop her aggressors from trying to rape her, the more the men were enjoying it.
"Help! Someone, help!" Sansa screamed loudly. "Father! Daveth! Anyone—!"
The man holding her arms grinned wickedly and covered her mouth. "No one's gonna hear you, little bird—"
"LET GO OF MY DAUGHTER!" Eddard shouted in rage.
Sansa looked up and saw her father charge into view. "Father!"
Eddard tackled the men to the ground, but the others released their grip on Sansa and jumped onto Eddard. The old warrior fought them off, but before he could raise his blade one of them had a sword plunged through their throat.
*BLEARGH!*
As one of the rioters fell, Eddard, Sansa and the others looked to see Daveth standing over them – wielding his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer. With a cold look in his eyes, Daveth had the intent to kill look.
"T-the Oathkeeper!" they shouted.
As they tried to get away, Daveth kicked one of them and plunged Stormbringer into their chest cavity. As he pulled out, the man's guts spilled onto the ground. Eddard struck down the other two before the last one was grabbed by Daveth.
"Please, Your Grace!" he begged for mercy. "Please—!"
*SNAP!*
Daveth refused to listen and snapped the rioter's neck, releasing his grip and watched him slump to the ground.
"Your Grace!" Eddard exclaimed in surprise.
Sansa, finding her voice finally, had never felt so relieved and so happy to see both her father and betrothed coming to her rescue.
"Daveth!" Sansa spoke.
Once Daveth's killing instinct wore off, he came back to his senses and dropped to his knees.
"Sansa! Thank the gods," he said relieved. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
Sansa turned to show the side of her face, blood was trickling down her brow from a deep gash on her scalp.
"My daughter needs to see a maester!" said Eddard.
"I know, Lord Stark, I know!" replied Daveth.
Carefully the Young Stag hoisted Sansa up to carry her to safety bridal style as she locked her arms tightly around his neck. Daveth had to be careful with how he carried Sansa, as the three of them now made their way out.
"It'll be all right, little dove," Daveth assured Sansa. "Your father and I are getting you out of here."
Sansa held her grip ever so tight, comforted at her betrothed's assurances.
"Thank you…" she whispered into his neck.
"Seems you didn't need my help after all, Oathkeeper," Sandor said gruffly.
"Clegane," Daveth said. "You sure took your sweet time coming here."
"Couldn't let you have the fun now," he added.
Eddard shook his head. "This is not the time for amusements, Clegane. We need to get back to the others now."
"Follow me."
######
Back at one of the safe houses…
Daveth, Sansa, Eddard and Sandor forced their way through the rioting crowds back into the safe house. Tyrion, Cersei and the other Kingsguard knights looked as the King made his return as Sansa's arms remained around Daveth's neck.
"Are you hurt, my lady?" Tyrion asks.
Sandor pointed to Sansa's injuries. "The little bird's bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage. See to that cut."
Daveth looked at Eddard. "Lord Stark, it's best if you go with them. Your daughters need you more than I do."
"No worries about that, Your Grace," Eddard said.
The Young Stag gently passed Sansa to Eddard. She winced as she felt blood from her injury trickle from her brow as she tried to wipe it away from her eye.
"Daveth…" Sansa reached out for him.
"I'll be fine, Sansa," Daveth spoke. "I'll check on you soon once the riot dies down. You have my word."
Yet by evenfall the city still struggled to cope with the riots, though Tyrion and Bronn reported that fires in Flea Bottom were quenched and the last of the roving mobs dispersed. Much as Daveth yearned to check on Sansa, he knew that he wouldn't go anywhere for a while that night.
The list of the slain was topped by the High Septon, ripped apart as he squealed to the Seven gods for mercy. Starving men take a hard view of priests too fat to walk. Ser Aron Santagar's corpse had been located by several of his men, and he had been stabbed and hacked so cruelly that his head was reduced to a red pulp.
Lady Tanda's daughter had been raped by half a hundred shouting men behind a tanner's shop. The City Watch found her wandering naked on Sowbelly Row.
Nine gold cloaks were slain, two score wounded. No one had troubled to count how many of the mob had died.
"Damn you, Joffrey," Daveth cursed when the counting was done. "…Do you see the chaos you have wrought upon my city? I will not have it any longer."
######
At the Red Keep…
Sansa walked through the halls of the Red Keep. Part of her was still shaken by the riots that took place several days earlier, how she was almost… no. She shook her head vigorously. Don't even think about it! Sansa closed her eyes and remembered the faces of each man who tried to force themselves on her, only for them to fall one by one due to the timely intervention of her father Eddard and her beloved King Daveth before they even had a chance to react.
She heard whispers from some of the other noble ladies of the court that Daveth had rapidly swept away the mobbing dissenters within the city. Furthermore, once the riots officially died down, Sansa heard that Daveth placed all of the blame for the devastating city-wide riot at the hands of his brother Joffrey. These actions shocked the court, earned Daveth his mother Cersei's ire, yet it also won him the loyalty of many of King's Landing's influential courtiers and smallfolk. The Seven Kingdoms belonged to Daveth now, and his Small Council advisors were seen as nothing more than figureheads.
She thought back on the night before with her sister…
ooOoo
"Ow!" Sansa winced as Shae and Arya cleaned the cut on her brow.
"Easy now," Shae comforted her. "It's not deep."
"Seven hells," Arya cursed bitterly. "This is all Joffrey's fault, I know it!"
Shae brought a finger to Arya's lips. "Don't say these things, girl. If the wrong people heard you…"
That seemed to make Arya angrier. "Why should I care what these southern lords have to say? They hurt my sister! They hurt my family!"
"I thought they were going to kill me," Sansa quivered. "He hated me, the man who hit me. I saw it in his eyes. Hated me. He never met me before, but he wanted to hurt me."
"Of course he did," Shae answered.
"Why?" Arya asked. "Why would a stranger…"
"Because you and your sister are everything he will never have," Shae explained. "Your horses eat better than his children. It doesn't matter now. He's dead."
Arya thought aloud. "I heard Father and Daveth made sure of it. Got to give the Oathkeeper credit for keeping his end of the bargain, at least."
"I would have given them bread if I had any," Sansa contemplated.
Shae shook her head in slight exasperation. "You know how hard the King fought to end the rebellion and secure food for his subjects. Tooth and nail. Day and night. And the Oathkeeper will continue doing so until his last breath. As his Queen, you yourself should know that."
Sansa breathed in steadily. "He has a name."
"I know that, girl. I know Daveth has a name. Just be sure to stay close to him from now on, alright?"
ooOoo
Sansa sighed as her handmaiden's words repeated themselves in her head. She brought her hand against her right arm, giving a small squeeze as she noticed Daveth approaching – having dealt with his mother's scowling outrage.
"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," Sansa called out to him.
Daveth stopped in his tracks and saw Sansa giving him a warm, welcoming smile.
"Back then… at the alley… Thank you for saving me. You were so brave."
Daveth shook his head. "Not sure I'd call it that, little dove… but thank you for saying so. You had me worried there for a moment."
"You… were worried?"
"Of course I was worried, Sansa! What kind of King would I be if I can't even protect my own Queen?" he moved toward her and raised a hand to caress her cheek.
Sansa lowered her eyes as she felt heat rush to her cheeks, knowing how much she meant to him. Whatever fear she felt yesterday had dissipated whenever Daveth looked at her that way. Sansa leaned her head into Daveth's hand; her eyes fluttered as she enjoyed the warm touch to her cheek. A faint smile brushed her face.
"The world needs more men like you, my sweet King. Like the heroes of the songs."
Daveth frowned at that statement. "There are no men like me, little dove. Only me," he whispered.
Sansa looked at Daveth, uncertain as to what her betrothed had just murmured. Any tender moment temporarily ceased when she felt another cramp hit.
"Ugh," Sansa groaned.
"Are you all right?" Daveth asked.
Sansa shook her head. "It's… it's nothing serious, my love. This… discomfort started the moment I had my first flowering."
Daveth had a hard time understanding female biology, but felt it was simply best that he didn't know the details of things rather impersonal.
"Well… at least the wedding can proceed once the small host of desperate rebels is crushed when they arrive."
That caught Sansa's attention. What did he mean?
"I don't understand," she spoke. "I thought the rebellion was over."
Daveth shook his head. "Officially, it is. However, it seems that the Knight of the Flowers seems hell bent on attacking us. He still blames me for Renly's demise. Our scouts tell us he will sail upon King's Landing within the next eight or nine days with more than 28,000 men and a small fraction of the Redwyne Fleet."
"Ser Loras…? But I thought…"
"Indeed he has chosen to ignore the summons of his father, the Lord of Highgarden. But it makes no difference to me."
"Daveth— Your Grace. You don't intend to—"
"Kill him? No, of course not. Do I look like Joffrey to you? Ser Loras is more useful to use alive than dead."
"Then you mean to take him as a hostage?"
Daveth raised a finger. "I see you've been practicing, Sansa. In times of war, hostages are taken and kept alive to use later in political negotiations or in exchange for ransom. Such prisoners are usually only held until the war is over. As a high-profile hostage can be an important bargaining chip. Loras's father has someone I want, and once the Knight of the Flowers is in our custody, we'll have what the Lord of Highgarden wants: his son and heir, for my Uncle."
Sansa chewed her bottom lip slightly. "Just promise me that you'll end it just as quickly."
Daveth shook his head. "I do not know if I can make such a promise, Sansa. But I'll see what I can do."
The couple continued their walk together to discuss their plans for what comes after Loras's expected attack on King's Landing. But for now, Daveth and Sansa stood side by side and allowed themselves a moment of pure bliss.
