Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 95: More Trouble is Brewing

―The Narrow Sea―

Aboard the King Robert's Warhammer...

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Daveth stood in his private chambers with his family—holding his daughter Cassana. Sansa held their son Lyonel in her lap with Myrcella playing peek-a-boo with her nephew. The twins were nearly a year old and had grown from infancy to entering the first stage of toddlerhood; their teeth were growing in, their black hair was growing (though Cassana's had been even longer and straighter with a tiny strand depicting the Tully color). Lately, one in particular was being a bit playful.

"Where's the baby?" Myrcella said, covering her face with her hands before moving them away. "There he is!"

Lyonel giggled at his aunt's antics. Sansa smiled as she bounced her son on her lap. Jaime, meanwhile, looked on at this family gathering whilst the ship was one week away from returning to the capital.

"Where's the baby? There he is!"

Daveth looked on as his son let out another wave of giggles. He was looking more tired and slightly pale; his left arm didn't ache, but he still often felt a slight pinch on his shoulder from where the assassin's hounds bit him. A Tyroshi healer on deck, Serella Vhassaar, checked on him earlier believed it to be the case of emotional exhaustion and had recommended he take at least two or three days to rest and inform her if there were any complications.

"Dada," Cassana piped up, patting her hands against Daveth.

He looked down at her. "Yes, firefly, I see you."

Sansa smiled as she watched Daveth poke Cassana's tiny nose, listening to their daughter squeak with surprise before giggling whilst stretching her hands out—snuggling against her father. The warm sight was soon interrupted when a tiny pair of hands reached up and grabbed her red hair, tugging downward quite roughly. "Ow, ow, ow!" Sansa winced, gently unfolding Lyonel's hands from her hair. "Sweetheart, don't pull on mama's hair like that, all right?"

The male twin looked amused. "Mama," he simply said to her.

"No, Lyonel, no; that wasn't very nice."

Jaime found this somewhat entertaining. "Well, well; seems as if he's got a natural talent for roughhousing."

Sansa rolled her eyes, visibly not amused. "My, how funny you are as of late, Ser Jaime. Need I remind you that raising children is harder than it looks the older they get?"

"Figuring that you grew up with three brothers, you'd be more accustomed to handling boys."

Myrcella chimed in. "Well, I think you two have been doing a very good job at raising them."

"Well, you're not the first to tell us that," remarked Daveth wearily. "Bringing children into the world and raising them is not as easy as one might think."

They all noticed his tone of voice. He sounded so... drained; burned out.

"Dearest..." Sansa spoke up.

"Come now, Sansa. Don't give me that look—"

"Dearest," she repeated more firmly.

Daveth sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this argument this time. "Fine... I'm just a little tired. The journey these last four years has been... very long."

"Perhaps a bit too long for some of us," Myrcella suggested. "Maybe once we've all returned to King's Landing, the two of you could afford to use some personal relaxation time?"

Sansa appeared to nod her head in agreement. "I concur. Our duty has been keeping us from spending quality time with our loved ones for quite some time now. With peace restored to the Seven Kingdoms for good, sometimes the most productive thing we can do is relax; especially with the children."