Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 42: You Can't Frighten Me

―The Riverlands―

On the kingsroad...

Daveth rode alongside Ser Barristan and his uncle Ser Jaime, with Ser Lucius reinforcing the rear guard. Behind them stood an assembled force of nearly 80,000 men – each of whom's captains and flagbearers wearing the sigil of their houses: the royal House Baratheon of King's Landing, reinforced with soldiers supplied by Houses Lannister, Mabrand, Rykker, Stokeworth, Tyrell, Tarly, Marbrand, etc. Upon passing through the Riverlands, the large royal army was joined up with Lord Edmure Tully and his uncle Ser Brynden the Blackfish along with most of his bannermen, some 8,000 strong.

Ser Barristan looked at his former squire, albeit a bit uneasy. The King had a rather stone cold, serious expression on his face ever since word reached him of Balon Greyjoy's second uprising. The old Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was concerned about his state of mind ever since he rescued the young Daveth from ironborn captivity during the Siege of Old Wyk several years earlier, yet said nothing out of respect for his privacy. His uncle, Jaime, on the other hand, was the first to speak up.

"You haven't said a word since we left the Red Keep, nephew."

Daveth took a brief glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the road. "Does the truth not surprise you?" he asked.

The kingslayer knew what troubled him. "Considering whom we're up against, no. But the way you've been carrying yourself has started to... question."

"Question what?"

"Think hard on it: you've been pushing yourself harder than you've ever been," Jaime pointed out. "A good commander must be able to remain level-headed and keep his composure, and must rid himself of any distraction. You made our goal intent; we know that much."

"If you have something to say, then say it."

"Then I'll make it plain and simple. Overextend yourself too far, and you'll end up losing more than you could possibly gain."

The Young Stag frowned. "I'm well aware of my limits, Ser Jaime, as do our men," he countered. "Considering our familial ties, I imagined you of all people should know that. Was I mistaken?"

Jaime was taken aback a bit, surprised at his nephew's outburst. Luckily, the elder Lannister kept his cool. "Well, sometimes the truth cuts both ways; and that means that sometimes we need to hear the hard truth. You may not want to hear it, but as one of your military commanders and as your uncle, this is something you really need to hear."

Daveth pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his nostrils, not wanting to be distracted by idle conversation. However, judging by the look in the eyes of his Kingsguard knights, neither of them was ever going to back down from this. Shaking his head and nearly throwing his hands up in the air, he conceded. "All right, then. What's the truth? The hard truth."

Barristan felt the need to intervene and clear things up. "What your uncle is trying to tell you, Your Grace, is that blind obsession can lead to one making rash decisions and costly mistakes."

"And what do you believe, Lord Commander?"

"Don't let the past control your actions nor let it dictate who you are. A good King should do everything within his power to defend the weak, and he must do so without forsaking himself and others around him. You have a chance to break the psychological hold, Your Grace, and prove it to the people that it is possible."

The King took a moment to let Barristan's and Jaime's words sink in, though it was rather difficult. True as those words may be, it stung him a bit now that he's facing a scenario like that; one in which it pitted his duty and his inner demons in an internal battle. Daveth could not afford any conflict or self-doubt, but somewhere deep down he knew it was inevitable as soon as he ascended the Iron Throne. "I can't make promises I might not keep, Ser Barristan," he told him, "but I'll try."