―At King's Landing―
Red Keep ― Small Council chambers...
After some time of investigating and questioning officials, Daveth returned to the Red Keep to convey upon the Small Council. He had one of the City Watch recruits send word to his councilors of his findings and not too long ago noticed an escort from both the Reach and Vale arriving at the gates. Once he entered the council chambers, Daveth noticed all of them were in attendance—in addition to Lady Olenna Tyrell with her entourage along and Lord Yohn Royce with his.
"Ah, beloved nephew," Tyrion called out.
"Daddy!" both twins exclaimed and rushed to grip his legs.
Daveth looked down at Lyonel and Cassana; both twins eagerly looked up at him and noticed a small bag in his hands. He bent down to one knee to meet them at eye-level. "Here. Some sweets your father was able to pick up on the way back," he told them as he handed them each their fair share of candied plums.
"Yay!"
"All right. Run along with your grandmother now, pups. Your father's got some things to take care of. I'll come tuck you in tonight. Be good now, yes?"
"Okie!"
Lyonel and Cassana ran off to find Catelyn – each held bags of candies in their little hands. Daveth watched as his son and daughter left the council chambers, finally able to redirect his attention towards serious matters at hand.
"They really seem to like you," Tyrion mentioned.
Daveth shook his head. "They're just 2 years old, uncle. If either Lyonel or Cassana are remarkable at that age, then that is their mother's doing – not mine."
"And you believe if you do anything well by them it would be to inflict as little damage as possible?" Olenna prodded. "I have travelled a long way after I was told that my presence was needed."
"Lord Tyrell," the Young Stag turned to Mace, "did you ask her here?" he asked.
"Well, Your Grace, you see I—"
Olenna interrupted him. "I was invited at the behest of the King's Hand, your uncle Lord Tyrion, to help resolve several troublesome issues... such as the High Sparrow causing trouble for Baratheons, Lannisters and Tyrells."
"Then I take it you've known about his recent breakout from his confinement?"
"Although the Reach is closer to King's Landing, the rest of us in the Vale of Arryn wouldn't sit idle while recent events unfolded before our eyes again," Yohn said. "Whatever aid House Arryn might provide to the crown is at your disposal, Your Grace."
"Thank you, Lord Royce. Lady Olenna. Now, let's get down to it. We've got fanatics running throughout the city. Commander Duran has increased the City Watch patrols, the Red Keep's guards have been informed of the situation and remain on the constant."
"And should one try to infiltrate?" the Lord of Runestone asked.
"We're currently working on a solution, but the Sparrows are a clever if not deceptive bunch. Soldier and law enforcement alike are being checked thoroughly in the hope of ferreting out any more spies in their ranks. Lord Varys, have your little birds picked up any trails yet?"
Varys shook his head. "None yet, Your Grace. If any of the Sparrows leave a trail, my little birds will follow them."
"Good; best to rout them out before they cause any more damage... now that the High Septon's been ousted."
"Have you learned anything from the Most Devout?" Trystane asked.
"Nothing that could be beneficial, unfortunately," Daveth shook his head. "Until a new High Septon is chosen, the Most Devout remains in a deadlock; unable to do anything. For now, it seems only Rosyn and Luceon are our only allies in the Faith of the Seven's leadership, yet..."
"What?"
"There was one who just rubbed me the wrong way."
"Think one of them could be involved?"
"Until we have proof or any leads to follow, all we have are theories and possible suspects. But don't worry about that part. Varys and I will work to resolve that. Our spy networks can coordinate better without both sides stepping on each other's toes."
Varys nodded.
"If I may," Yohn suggested. "While we strategize on our next course of action, I could have some of my own escorts keep close tabs on certain parties in the city."
"Who do you have in mind?" he asked.
Daveth felt a close hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, the Young Stag was slightly taken aback by a young woman staring at him – smiling almost eagerly. She was a short, fleshy and extremely buxom woman, broad of hip, thick of waist with a small mouth, a pair of lively brown eyes and brown curly hair framed round red cheeks. Daveth roughly estimated she was about roughly two years older than him.
"Myranda Royce, my cousin's daughter, has opted to come with me from the Gates of the Moon," the Lord of Runestone introduced her. "She might be a bit... ahem, frolicsome and play the merry fool... but underneath she's shrewder than her father, my brother Nestor. I'm certain she'll be of great assistance in the investigation."
Daveth cleared his throat. "Welcome to King's Landing, Lady Myranda," he greeted politely.
"It is a great honor to finally meet you in person, Your Grace," Myranda curtsied. "My friend Mya Stone has told me many things about you."
But you'll get no secrets from me. "And where is your... friend, my lady?"
"She's already on the streets. 'Hitting the ground running,' was what she said. Perhaps once we hear more of these horrible Sparrows plaguing these poor people, maybe we could present our findings to you personally?"
The Young Stag raised an eyebrow, feeling a little bit apprehensive. "So long as you keep your eyes peeled and ensure that you're not being shadowed, then that's fine."
"Oh, that would be great. Mya's been dying to meet you."
"A baseborn girl should not be paraded around His Grace at court," Pycelle chastised. "Such an act would bring him disgrace and scandal."
Myranda snorted. "Yet such disgrace and scandal has already befallen upon a man of your stature several years ago when you sold out His Grace when he arranged his only sister's marriage to the Prince of Dorne's son and heir despite swearing a solemn vow not to tell anyone of the sort." She gave a sigh. "Is that not the truth, Grand Maester?"
While Pycelle and a few councilors sputtered, Daveth appeared quite impressed.
"What of the other Tyrells?" Tyrion changed the subject. "Ser Loras and Lady Margaery?"
"Margaery is in the gardens with Tommen," Mace said, "Loras is sparring in the courtyard. Why?"
Before any could say anything, a royal steward entered the room. "Pardon the interruption, my lords. Your Grace," he lowered his head. "But the guards have caught an intruder trying to sneak into the castle. We have him in custody if you wish to question him yourself."
Daveth, Tyrion, Olenna and Yohn looked at each other before the Young Stag turned back to the steward.
"Bring him in," he ordered.
The royal steward nodded and motioned for two guards—Baratheon and Lannister—to bring in a chained Sparrow before the council. Roughly throwing the captured intruder to the ground, Daveth recognized the uniform as rough-spun robes of dyed black wool fastened around the waist by chains.
"How did he get in here?" asked Randyll.
The prisoner steadily lifted his head up. "How I did was irrelevant, my lords. Why is purely a detrimental to our mandate from the Gods themselves."
Daveth rolled his eyes. "Again with spouting such nonsense," he remarked in slight annoyance. "You Sparrows really do enjoy poking and prodding at me trying to get me to snap, don't you?"
"A poor assumption on your part if you think our holy movement acts based off our own amusements, Oathkeeper. No. No, we're all part of something greater than ourselves. The High Sparrow will show the people of this city the light of the Mother's love and punish the wicked."
"Cut to the chase, Sparrow. What are you really after?"
"You harbor a sinner, you harbor abominations... The world must be cleansed of them."
In that instant, Daveth felt as if the world simply faded in a pit of blackness when he heard that. He hadn't had a moment to recognize him curling his fits into a tight ball; perceived at the insult or threat, the Young Stag's thoughts turned to not one but two individuals that came to mind. But it wasn't that, Daveth felt as if it were all just... "A distraction," he gasped.
The Sparrow gave a rather calm, chilling smile – almost smug. Olenna and Mace Tyrell both seemed to catch onto this and quickly rose from their seats.
"Loras," Mace sputtered.
"Your son reeks of sin," the Sparrow spat. "The others will be on him soon. The Father will judge him—"
Before he could gloat even further, the guards smacked him hard on the back of the head – rendering him unconscious.
"Clap him in irons and throw him into the black cells," Daveth ordered. "Lord Tyrell, have your guards find Ser Loras before the Sparrows do. Trystane, come with me. I'll need you to help me find Myrcella and Tommen."
Not hesitating, the Dornish Master of Laws sprang from his seat and ran out of the Small Council chambers as the guards dragged the Sparrow off to the dungeons; those who remained uttered words of confusion before gathering their wits and immediately sprang into action when it became known the Sparrows initiated a diversionary tactic to attack not only the nobility but the royal House Baratheon of King's Landing.
In the darkest corner of his mind, Daveth felt a tiny flame beginning to grow—threatening to grow into a blazing ember. Passing a nearby hallway, he managed to pick up his father's war hammer and strapped it around his back. I swear if those Sparrows lay so much as a finger on Myrcella or Tommen, I'll kill them all... Push me too hard and they'll learn the hard way how far the depth of my fury extends.
Somewhere in the courtyard...
Ser Loras had been sparring against another man, clashing practice swords with one another as the spectators around him cheered and applauded. From what it seems, the Knight of the Flowers had been improving his fighting style ever since his defeat at the Battle of the Blackwater years ago. Sure, the scar across his face had faded, but he remained as formidable as ever. Loras had studied Daveth's moves closely—the distant memory of that battle forever engrained in his memory. Raising his right arm upwards to deflect and parry, Loras knocked his opponent to the ground. He removed his helmet, sweaty and exhausted from the sparring. Taking the time to absorb the round of applause he was receiving, Loras hands his sword to another man who hands him a drink. As he took a sip, he felt something was wrong. A great number of Sparrows, all armed, walk down and up a dozen stairwells on all sides before Loras suddenly becomes aware of their presence.
"Seize him," one of the Sparrows ordered.
Loras reached to grab a nearby sword, but the Sparrows proved more quickly and intimidated the spectators into submission as dozens of them roughly grabbed the heir to Highgarden. "Ngah! Get your hands off of me!" he yelled, offering fierce resistance.
Surrounded on all sides, one of the Sparrows high-ranking leaders, pushed his way past his holy brothers-in-arms and stared directly at their sought-out target. "Ser Loras of House Tyrell, you have broken the laws of Gods and men," he informs him.
Loras eyes him up and down. "Unhand me this instant! Who do you think he are?" he demands as he grunted and struggles.
He leans in close to his face. "Justice," he replies. "Take him to the High Sparrow. Our leader will judge him before the Father. Our benefactor will ensure our mission is sanctioned whether the crown approves or not."
Benefactor? They've got someone backing them?
Not determined to be taken without a fight, Loras throws himself at the Sparrows—hurling his arms against the Sparrows restraining him, kicking others as hard as he could whenever they got too close. Wielding clubs and rods, the Sparrows took turns attacking Loras.
Blow after blow, Loras grunted and shouted yet still resisted and stood his ground while the Sparrows found it a more difficult time hauling him away. As they neared a side entrance they used to sneak in while one of their own distracts the main leaders, one of them is spotted by team of guards.
"There they are!" one of them points at the Sparrows.
"Stop them! Don't let them get away!"
One by one, the guards rushed down the stairwells and charged at the Sparrows. Recognizing it was their time to quickly evacuate the area; a few Sparrows remained behind to hold them off while they take Loras away. Knowing they were unarmed and had relatively light weaponry, the Sparrows covering their escape knew they were about to be slaughtered.
"Get off me! Now! Let go!" he yelled frustratingly.
The guards proved more than capable of eliminating the Sparrows, but to their surprise the Sparrows gripped a nearby level and forced it down, shutting the gates and breaking the handle off. Smirking in triumph, the Sparrows watched as the guards grabbed at the gate and tried lifting up to no avail. All they could do was watch the enemy escape with Loras Tyrell—a mission they considered a success.
"Fuck!" one the guards banged the bars. "Someone go tell the King, tell him... Tell them that the Sparrows made the first move."
"What will we tell Margaery? Or Lord Tyrell?"
The captain sighed and shook his head. "I get a feeling they'll learn one way or another. Let's just hope they know exactly who to blame 'cause it'll be an us-versus-them scenario... something we can't afford at the moment."
They knew this day was the Sparrow's victory; but they would not be caught off-guard like this again... and they will plan to retaliate.
―Essos―
Vaes Dothrak...
Deep within the arid lands of the Great Grass Sea, Daenerys was covered in dust and her hands were bound. Moments ago, after flying atop of Drogon's back out of Meereen, the Dragon Queen found herself stranded in uncharted territory before finding herself surrounded by 100,000 Dothraki – some of them were a few former khalasar who abandoned her after Khal Drogo died. Captured by those she originally followed and briefly led, Daenerys trips before one of the Dothraki bloodriders, Qhono, whip at her.
"Ishish me tih leyes. Mai okeosi inavvasi anni tih leyes majin noreth moon zasqaso. (Maybe she saw a ghost. My friend's mother saw a ghost and her hair turned white)," one of them laughed.
Akho, another bloodrider laughed. "Hannavenaki rokhi shekhes. Me avvirsae ilek moroa. Majin jin hannaveneesi, ishish me kovara torga shekhi k'athneakari sekke majin noreth zasqasoe. (Pink people are afraid of the sun. It burns their skin. So this pink girl, she probably stands too long in the sun and her hair goes white.)"
Daenerys understood what Qhono and Akho were saying, all of it was directed at her—what they planned to do to her once they were alone. She hated being sold like a broodmare, used and abused, raped and defiled... she endured such abuse most of her life in exile. But tonight, the Dragon Queen was having none of it when presented to Khal Moro.
The moment he groped her, Daenerys turned the tables. "Vo frakho anna vosecchi. (Do not touch me)," she snaps.
The Dothraki bloodriders and wives look at each other; two of them slowly back away as Daenerys continued.
"Anha Daenerys Vazyol h'Okreseroon Targeryen, Atak ma Hakesoon Mae, Osavvirsak, Khaleesi Mirini, Khaleesi m'Andahli ma Roynari m'Ataki, Khaleesi Havazhofi Hranni, ma Haggey-Assamvak ma Mai Zhavorsi. (I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.)"
Khal Moro scoffed. "Yer vosak, yorak ma hakesoon yeri, Khaleesi Vosi, zafra Khali Moro. (You are nobody, the millionth of your name, Queen of Nothing, slave of Khal Moro)," he laughs at her. "Ajjalan anha achilok ma yeroon, ma hash Vezhof erina, hash yer vayyoe anhaan rizhes. Hash yer tihoe? (Tonight I will lie with you, and if the Great Stallion is kind, you will give me a son. Do you understand?)"
"Anha vos ochilok ma shafkoa vosecchi. M'anha vo vayyok vo yal che ha shafkea che h'eshnakaan. Avvos vosma shekh yola she jimma ma drivoe she titha. (I will not lie with you. And I will bear no children, for you or anyone else. Not until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.)"
"Me allayafa anna. Athvadar mra qora. (I like her. She has spirit.)"
And that was when Daenerys decided to drop the mother of all bombshells. "Anha chiorikemoon ha Khalaan Drogo ki Bharbosi. (I was wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo)," she revealed.
That proved more than enough to make Khal Moro back away from her. "Khal Drogo driva. (Khal Drogo is dead)," he remarks.
"Anha nesak. Anha avvirsa khadokh moon. (I know. I burnt his body.)"
Knowing it was forbidden among the Dothraki, Khal Moro unsheathed his blade and cuts Daenerys' bindings off – freeing the use of her hands. "Anha nemo echomosak. Anha vo neso. (Forgive me. I did not know)," he apologizes. "Me izvena, jin athchilozar ma khaleenisoon. Vosak ofrakha year vosecchi, anha astak yeraan asqoy. (It is forbidden to lie with a Khal's widow. No one will touch you, you have my word.)"
Despite her requests for the Dothraki to take her back to Meereen, Daenerys was instead sent to the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen in Vaes Dothrak where the other widows of dead Khals live. For the rest of their days, they'd live out their lives. Daenerys, however, was not the kind of woman to be kept confined for the rest of her life – knowing the other crones hate her, thinking the Dothraki should not interbreed with other races.
Tonight, the Dragon Queen formulated a plan to eliminate the Khals Brozho, Rhallko, Porrzho, Moro and Qorro and take absolute control of the Dothraki—with the aid of two priestesses she befriended. During the Khalar vezhven, the Khals argued about how to deal with Daenerys; Moro wanted her to join the Dosh Khaleen, Porrzho expressed interest in her and Qorro suggested selling her to the Wise Masters in exchange for 10,000 horses.
Daenerys, however, dismissed them all. "Anha nesak rekke anha kovarak. (I know where I am)," she tells them. "Anha ray dothra jinne hatif ajjin. Hazze, she haz sorfo, anha adakh zhores vezhoon. Ma Dosh Khaleen hake yal anni Vezh Fin Saja Rhaesheseres. (I have been here before. Right there, on that spot, I ate a stallion's heart. And the Dosh Khaleen pronounced my child the Stallion Who Mounts the World.)"
"Ma fini meliso? Yer shille maege, ven tokik. Enta yeri Rhaego driva haji yeroon. Majin Khal Drogo akka. (And what happened? You trusted a sorceress, like a fool. Your baby Rhaego is dead because of you. And so is Khal Drogo)," Khal Morro countered.
"Jinne zhey Drogo ast asqoy vidrie khalasares mae jim, finnaan nakhoe rhaesheser. Dothralat hrazef ido yomme Havazzhifi Kazga ven et vo khal avvos. Me ast asqoy addrivat mahrazhis fini ondee khogar shiqethi ma ohharat okrenegwin mori. Me ast asqoy anhaan. Hatif Maisi Krazaaji, kash shieraki vitihir asavvasoon. (This is where Drogo promised to take his khalasar west to where the world ends. To ride wooden horses across the black salt sea as no khal has done before. He promised to kill the men in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses. He swore it to me. Before the Mother of Mountains, as the stars looked down in witness.)"
The other Khals laughed amongst themselves. "Ma yer ven toki ven yer shillo mae. (And you were dumb enough to believe him.)"
"Ma jinne, ajjin, fin vaese zhokwa jerie Khali Vezhveni? Fin vaesish vemrasoe yeri, finsanney nayat vil ahilee yeri, finsanney hrazef aqaffi yeri k'azhi. Yeri mahrazhi zhikwi. Torga yeri, Dothraki yanqosoraan zhikwi. Vos at yeroa venoe idrilat mora vosecchi. Vosma anha venok. Majin anha vidrik. (And here, now, what great matters do the Great Khals discuss? Which little villages you'll raid, how many girls you'll get to fuck, how many horses you'll demand in tribute. You are small men. Under you, the Dothraki will be a small people. None of you is fit to lead them. But I am. So I will.)"
Khal Morro didn't take that threat lightly and quickly stood up. "Athgoshar. Vos Dosh Khaleen ha yeraan. Athvokkerar yeri. Ha rekaan, ha jinaan, kisha ahileki yera k'athmajizari. Majin kisha vazhaki dothrakhqoyoon kishi hilelat yera. (Alright. No Dosh Khaleen for you. Instead, we'll take turns fucking you. And then we'll let our bloodriders fuck you)," he tells her. "Majin hash zhille athzinari yeri vekha, hash kisha vazhaki ekh hrazefaan kishi. Hash yer ray tih kifinosi hilee hrazef chiories? Jini vekhikh fin eth tihi yer hatif yer drivoe. Ma yer atihi mae. Hatif yer drivoe zhorre. Zhey gech yofi. Hash yer shillo k'athjilari mekisha asilaki yera? (And if there's anything left of you, we'll give our horses a turn. You crazy cunt. Did you really think we would serve you?)"
Daenerys smiled and laid her hand on a fire pit. "Yeri vos osili vosecchi. Yeri vadrivoe. (You're not going to serve. You're going to die)," she replies.
Pushing the fire pit onto the ground, Daenerys watches as the Khals cower away from the flames as she repeatedly topples more braziers down one by one – setting the floor of the hut aflame in mere seconds. Soon enough, the flame begins to cover the entire temple; when each structure begins to collapse in the inferno, one bars the doorway—preventing the Khals from escaping when they tried running for it to avoid the rapidly spreading fire. All they could do was watch and scream, helpless as the raging inferno engulfed them all—with Daenerys smiling as she watched them die, incinerating the entire Dothraki leadership. Their screams don't last long.
Outside, the Dothraki people gather around the burning temple. Eventually, the doors collapse before Daenerys herself emerges out of the fire, naked and unharmed. Her clothes were burnt off her body, but otherwise she was unfazed—the Dragon Queen had demonstrated her power and authority before the assembly. The Dothraki gazed in awe, horrified and fearful in equal measure, tens of thousands bow to Daenerys almost immediately with the rest of the Dosh Khaleen and the high priestesses not long afterwards.
"She vo Meereen. Kisha hash zafra silve niyanqoy vo athvilajerar (On to Meereen. We have a slave master alliance to fight)."