Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 58: A Man Has No Name

―At King's Landing―

Red Keep ― Tower of the Hand...

Two months had passed since Daveth departed King's Landing with his army to put down the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. Since then, murmurs of well-wishes and concerns for the Young Stag have floated among the smallfolk – considering what had happened in the past at Lannisport all those years ago. But within the chambers of the Tower of the Hand, the gathered lords of the Small Council had assembled, to discuss today's affairs. Their recent guest was Sansa; despite being advised to rest for a moment, the Wolf Queen had to know of her husband's condition. She kept one hand around her pregnant belly, which had grown in size and was making her feel occasional discomfort. Even so, Sansa remained steadfast in her determination. Sitting alongside her (also making her very uncomfortable) was her own mother-in-law, Cersei Lannister, who was adamant that she be included as well. At the head of the table sat her husband's grandfather and Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. 

"We only have the morning for affairs of state. What news do we have?" he coldly asked.

"King Daveth and Robb Stark had struck a decisive blow against Balon Greyjoy and lifted the ironborn's occupation of Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin," Varys informed him. "As it stands, they've bested the Iron Fleet at the Sunset Sea despite some setbacks and now plan to take the war to the Iron Islands itself."

"What of my husband and brother?" Sansa glanced at him, her eyes tight and worried and her voice sounded almost pleadingly. "Are they...?"

"Fine. They're both just fine, Your Grace, I assure you. My little birds have whispered to me that the King got right back on his feet despite suffering serious wounds."

Concern dawned on Sansa's face; her brow furrowed and felt her stomach twist in knots as she listened to the eunuch Master of Whisperers reports. Even though she was relieved that Daveth was all right, Sansa still didn't want to imagine her husband being hurt or anything; he had already earned a vertical scar along his eye during the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

"Rather impressive, I must say," Oberyn chimed in. "Not a bad feat for someone as young as he is."

"Even so, he's only one man," Pycelle pointed out.

Cersei, meanwhile, sat coolly. "He's becoming more like his father. Daveth should've known better than that to simply march off on his own."

"Still, I believe the results speak for themselves. Your son does seem the sort of person to always get the job done no matter the obstacles placed in front of him. I think that says something about his character."

"All the more reason for our enemies to keep thinking that way," Tyrion observed. "Trust me on that one, sister. I've seen how Daveth fights and how he carries out a plan. The more our enemies keep underestimating him, the more battles he'll keep on winning. He has a good mind for strategy and tactics, his men worship him... And the more results he gets done at a fast pace, many more houses will flock to his banner."

"Shouldn't h-he try not to push himself too hard?" Pycelle inquired. "The King's been... driven by his desire for vengeance these past 11 years. With h-his state of mind, I do believe it is imperative that—"

"Everyone's determined by something. I know my nephew better than most. He'll pull through."

"I hope you're right, Lord Tyrion," Sansa acknowledged.

Tywin placed his fist under his chin. "Hmm. What else do we have?"

Varys turned to the King's Hand. "More whispers from the east, my lord."