Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 84: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

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―The Narrow Sea―

Aboard the King Robert's Warhammer...

Night time on the ocean was considered by some as calm, relaxing... to others, it was perceived as a bad omen—yet each scenario depended on the weather conditions of their lands and the durability of the ship.

Sailing down the Narrow Sea, a lone vessel sailed down the eastern coast—the royal flagship King Robert's Warhammer. The distance by sea from King's Landing to Sunspear or the Dornish port Planky Town was 1,615 miles and it would take some time for the party even at 35 knots—a favorable gale considering the region Daveth and his small group was in. Sailors on the main deck were adjusting the sales: main, topsails, force sail, and jibs; down below the oarsmen accelerated the war galley's steering through the Narrow Sea.

Daveth had walked down below the deck—holding a book in hand—and looked out through the wooden openings to observe the full moon shining down from above. King Robert's Warhammer might be the largest ship of the Royal Fleet, but the Young Stag knew his way around the war galley enough to recognize each room. Even if it's just one ship, the flagship was more than capable of deterring pirates and enduring the oceanic waves bashing against it. His squire, Olyvar, held a lit candle and found the King.

"All is set, Your Grace. We should be arriving at Dorne within the next two or three weeks."

Daveth nodded. "Good. And the men up above remain at their post?"

"Yes."

"What is the status of my son and daughter?"

"Both Prince Lyonel and Princess Cassana are sound asleep in their room," Olyvar answered. "Ariyana, Ser Lucius and Ser Jaime are standing guard over them just in case."

"Hmm. And the Queen?"

Olyvar pointed to the seventh door down the main hall. "In that room over there, Your Grace."

"I see," he observed. "That'll be all for now, Olyvar. Be sure to get some rest now. It's getting late."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you, Your Grace?" the Frey joked.

"Careful now, lad," he smiled coldly, rolling his eyes. "I enjoy you, but be careful."

Olyvar chuckled, yet felt a strange chill crawl up and down his spine when the Young Stag said that. He shook his head and made for his chambers, yearning for some sleep. Daveth, meanwhile, set out to approach the room—to find his wife. Arriving at the seventh door, the Young Stag pushed the door open—the hinges squeaking slightly and entered the cabin.

Sansa had donned on a long, sleeveless white nightgown; she was tired and getting ready for bed. She sat on a small wooden chair, staring into a mirror whilst brushing her hair. Shae and Brella had been sent to their own rooms—the closest ones to her children in case they ever woke up in the middle of the night again. Candles in the room were lit to illuminate enough light for them to see in the dark.