Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 147: A Taste of Things to Come

Robb reciprocated the act and clasped the Young Stag's arm. "And I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Daveth. Bound by blood and sworn an oath before the godswood, we are brothers from this day until our last day." He pulls away. "I'll go find Jon and give him the rundown. Our men will stand ready for the final preparation."

Upon their conclusion, Robb departed from the Great Hall to mobilize the allied armies—leaving Daveth alone to survey the map once more. The Young Stag was once again left to his thoughts as he moved various army pieces carved into stags, wolves and dragons across the map—calculating the strategical positions in which to move them into. For what felt like hours, Daveth stroked his chin—feeling the texture of his beard brushing against his fingers. All his 24 years of life, 7 years of ruling and 6 years of combat experience seemed as if an unseen hand of fate was steadily guiding him to this very moment with various obstacles, but what appeared to have troubled him most was that the enemy he was about to face was someone—or something—he had never seen or heard of before. It was like being blind, and no one liked being blind.

"You look like you're lost in thought, brother-in-law," a voice said calmly.

Daveth spun around, his hand gripped around the handle of Stormbringer to see who had crept up on him. When he turned around, he noticed Arya Stark standing in the door way with her arms behind her back. The fact that his sister-in-law was perfectly calm and composed seemed to unnerve him somewhat. "How did you get past the Kingsguard?" he asked.

"I didn't. You need better bodyguards," Arya replied while glancing at the map. "These are the plans for battle."

"What of it?"

"Nothing."

Daveth furrowed his brow. "Arya, I know that look."

She looked up at him. "Do you now?" she challenged.

"Court intrigue, remember? Grew up learning to know when someone's telling the truth and who's telling a lie," he answered wryly. "So if you have something to say, just say it already."

Arya glances over to the courtyard from the window. "I remember father used to watch us from here," she said. "He wouldn't say anything. Sansa was inside knitting all the time, you were playing your little games down south. One time Robb, Jon and Bran were shooting arrows with Ser Rodrick. I came out here after and Bran had left his bow behind just lying on the ground. Ser Rodrick would have cuffed him if he saw. There was one arrow in the target. There was no one around, just like now. No one to stop me. So, I started shooting. And every shot I had to go out there and get my one arrow and walk back and shoot it again. I wasn't very good. Finally, I hit the bullseye. It could have been the twentieth shot or the fiftieth. I don't remember. But I hit the bullseye and I heard this." She starts slow clapping. "I looked up and father was standing right where I was smiling down at me. I knew what I was doing was against the rules, but he was smiling so I knew it wasn't wrong. The rules were wrong. I was doing what I was meant to be doing and he knew it too."

"You never were the type to follow the rules nor allow tradition to bind you, weren't you? No, you have too much wolf blood in you. I suppose Ned Stark knew that as well from the beginning."

"And you got him killed," Arya accused.

Daveth felt a nerve twitch. You did not just say that... "Excuse me?" he pressed offended.

"I still remember the vivid details of the aftermath at the Blackwater. How my own father sacrificed his life to save you. I remember standing at his bedside when he drew his last breath, telling you to take good care of Sansa for him. Did you?"

"You don't like me, Arya, I get it. But when I make promises... or a threat, I keep them. When your father asked me to look after your sister, I vowed to keep that promise. Ned died with honor that day and the realm thanks him for his service."