Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 145: Baratheon and Targaryen

—At King's Landing—

Red Keep — Courtyard...

It was snowing in King's Landing.

Sansa watched her now 4-year-old twins Lyonel and Cassana playing in the Red Keep's courtyard; her children had never seen snow before and were rather excited despite the cold. Both were either attempting to build snow forts or would simply run around throwing snow balls at each other, laughing their heads off along the way. Sansa kept her now one-year-old Torrhen on her lap, bouncing him slightly whilst keeping him warm at the same time. Her pregnant belly had grown somewhat—still visibly to tell of her condition, but was still well enough to move around. Although the Queen had been keeping a close eye on her young, her mind often at times drifted towards the dangerous threat in the North; her homeland. Winterfell. Her friends and family... those who she grew up with were still in immediate danger should the worst come to pass. But Sansa continued to hold faith and confidence that both her husband and brother would triumph and emerge victorious—something they've always done so without fail.

Varys, the Master of Whisperers, interrupted their downtime. "Your Grace, I fear I bring terrible news," he said. "My little birds have informed me that the Wall has been breached. The dead are marching south as we speak."

Sansa felt uneasy. Uneasy, but composed. "Then the fate of all life in Westeros lies in their hands now. May the Old Gods and the New protect them," she replies.

"You are concerned."

"I was born in Winterfell, Lord Varys. The North is my home. 'Winter is coming' isn't just words House Stark invokes simply for grandstanding; it serves as a warning to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms of the hardships that soon lie ahead. With each seasonal changes, the North is always the first to get the brunt of it."

"And the King?"

"Daveth is my husband and the father of our children, so of course I miss him. Robb is my brother and has the responsibility of taking care of our countrymen as Warden of the North. Our father worked to ensure all Stark children were prepared for this moment." She paused for a moment. "What else have your spies reported?"

"They've been dispatched to certain areas two days ago, of course," the Master of Whisperers confirmed. "Dragonstone, what remains of the Iron Islands, across the Narrow Sea... So far my reports have turned up nothing yet."

"So we have nothing on Connington and Euron Greyjoy?"

"No, Your Grace. And that's what I find very odd. It's as if someone is keeping their tracks covered ahead of schedule before my little birds could finish their work. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider our movements being tracked if either Euron or Lord Connington were involved, but the timing is... curious."

"You suspect one of our own is feeding them information?"

"Doubtful, but I wouldn't rule out any possible scenario. The others on the Small Council besides Lord Tyrion have disregarded my suspicion, but as Master of Whisperers I cannot ignore it."

"And if there is?"

"Then there may be going on than we thought. I'll have my birds move a bit discreetly and track the source."

Sansa nodded. "Do what you can, Lord Varys. Keep a close watch out for suspicious activity and inform us if you find anything."

Grand Maester Pycelle arrived and entered into the area. "O-oh, a-ah, um, p-pardon my intrusion, Your Grace," he stammered, "but Princess Myrcella has given birth. A boy. Dark hair, and Gods above a Dornish tan."