A/N: Nobody asked for this.
I definitely take some liberties with this. It'll have elements from different universes, original and returning characters, the like. This is placed in Westeros, alternate universe, fifteen years after the Iron Throne is returned to it's rightful lineage. This is written closer to the style of George R.R. Martin than anything else, and bewarned, it will have spoilers (but you'll also have to distinguish those from the AU). And yes, I know Near's name is normally a single River, not Rivers, but it was just too good to pass up.
What pairings? I'm not sure yet. I'm sure it'll turn out as Meronia as some point (I say that now), but who knows. I've just started. This was all written in a day, after I got home from school.
Enjoy,
Mycero
Chapter One: The Albino
The Songs of Old Valyria lay open over his knees as the Albino looked out over the courtyard. Half a hundred feet below, two boys in dark leather jerkins sparred, swords in hand, pressed on by Blackwater's Master-at-arms, Ser Ruvie. Swords clashed, and even in the library above them, the Albino could hear Ser Ruvie shouting at them.
The Library of Blackwater was a tower abreast the westernmost wall of the west shore. It stood thrice as high as the wall itself, and housed thousands of books, most collected by the new Lord of the Crossing. Some called the Lord and his wife the Lord and Lady of the Library, but only in jest. Many knew of Lord Lawliet and what he'd helped do to the Riverlands since the Iron Throne had been restored. Of late, though, his name had started to fit him more, as he started spending more time in his solar, having books brought from the library tower. His wife had always haunted the library, though. The castle might be Lord Lawliet's, but the library was hers. And, except when it came to her Lord husband, Lady Linda Tully was very protective of her books.
"Nate, that book is half a thousand years old, if you're not reading it, return it to its place," a sharp voice said, and the Lady of the Library slid into view, her normally soft face serious.
"If my Lady commands," Nate murmured, closing the book softly and leaving the padded seat by the window. Lady Linda looked past him, down into the courtyard.
"My sons are practicing again, are they?" she asked, her voice softer as she reached the window. "Would that I could make them as interested in their studies, they might be able to surpass you or their Lord father."
"My lady would have better chances of swimming the Trident," Nate said, sliding the leather-bound volume betwixt two older texts on the shelf.
"I'm a stubborn swimmer," she laughed.
"They're just as stubborn, if not more," Nate said, taking a new seat. "A combination of both you and their Lord father."
"Maybe you're right," Lady Linda sighed, pushing from the wall. "But I'll still have Maester Quillish assign them more study work. Seven know they could benefit."
"The maester may fear for his life," Nate cracked a smile. "Mihael and Mail aren't the most patient. Brilliant, but reckless."
"Reckless. One day my son will be Lord of the Crossing, and his brother will be his Lord of Law," Lady Linda turned to him. "I fear for my son's foes, but I fear also for my son. If he cannot learn patience..."
He won't. "He will, some day. Mail can already rein him in somewhat."
"And what of you?"
"Me?" Nate turned his dark eyes on her. Grey, but a dark purple when they were in the light. He brushed his white hair from his eyes. "I know what I am, I know my lineage. I may yet go to King's Landing."
"The Queen was lead to believe all of her family are dead. You believe she would believe it?" Linda sat in Nate's former seat, gazing through the window.
"I am her brother's great-grandson, even if my father was a bastard. Perhaps I would have a place in her service."
"As a Librarian?"
"As a maester perhaps, or whatever she would have of me. Daenerys Targaryen is a fair Queen."
"A fair Queen without a successor. She has no husband. She will be more careful than you think. You are a Rivers, not a Targaryen, and she will look at that before anything you will say."
Rivers. A bastard name. "She will hear me, if she can see me. I look the blood of old Valyria as much as she."
Nate was spared the rest of the conversation by the arrival of Lord Lawliet's great-uncle, Maester Quillish. "Nate, my Lady. Lord Lawliet requests you join him in his solar. He has had a raven from Riverrun."
"Do you know what it contains?" Nate asked, rising to follow.
"No, I was not informed as yet," Quillish replied as they descended the tower stairs.
"A summons?"
"Doubtless. We've all heard the whispers."
"What whispers are these?" Linda asked the maester.
"They say the Queen is travelling to Riverrun. Why, I couldn't say," Quillish replied, holding the door to the tower for them. "If so, Lord Blackfish will want all of his bannermen at hand for the royal welcome."
Quillish led the way across to the courtyard, tapping on Ser Ruvie's shoulder and murmuring in his ear. Soon, the two boys joined them. Mihael and Mail were brothers, Mail being a year younger than Mihael's four-and-ten, and an inch shorter if Mihael is to be believed, with brown instead of gold hair.
"What's going on?" Mihael demanded, sheathing his practice sword in the earth.
"Your Lord father has received a raven from Riverrun, he wishes to see you all in his solar."
The old Maester led the way to the Lord's tower, and up the winding stair to the top. From here, through the windows and across the Fork, the other castle that made up what was formerly the Twins stood out against the green background of the Riverlands behind.
"My Lord," Quillish said, after knocking against the door and opening it.
"Thank you, Quillish. You can stay," the Lord of the Library said.
Lord Lawliet looked nothing like his sons. Raven hair and a stooped posture, even at three-and-thirty. He wore black and white simple clothing, suit more for a lowborn than a lord. He stood next to a window, looking out over the Green Fork and the Crossing, a letter open in his hand bearing the Tully seal.
"My Lord," Nate started, before Lawliet interrupted him.
"I have been summoned to Riverrun. The Queen is coming," he said bluntly, turning toward them all. "Lord Tully never mentioned whether any of the other lords are coming. I dislike not knowing things."
"Did he mention why?" Mihael asked, sitting in one of the chairs near the wall.
"Of course not, why put that sort of important information in the letter?" Lawliet snorted. "Regardless. I've sent Aemar to pack a wagon. You're all coming. I'm leaving Ser Ruvie here to act as Lord over Blackwater in my absence, and—"
"My Lord, I would stay to watch Blackwater. I would feel safer if Ser Ruvie is with you," Linda said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Lawliet hesitated. "I had assumed you would want to see your family in Riverrun—"
"They visit here often enough for my liking, my Lord. It will give me a chance at some peace where I can paint and draw as I will."
"Very well, then. Quillish, let Aemar know our Lady Linda isn't coming."
"As you wish," Quillish inclined his head and exited, holding the door for Linda.
"Mihael, Mail, return to your chambers, and pack anything you see fit to bring. I will send for someone to bring it down," Lawliet said, turning to his sons.
"Bloody Riverrun," Mihael murmured as he and Mail exited the solar. Lawliet turned to Nate.
"The Queen making an unannounced visit to Riverrun," Lawliet mused as he sat at his desk. "And the Lord of the Riverlands calls me to hand. I don't think this is a coincidence. Have you heard the rumours?"
"That the Queen fancies the Hand and has a Lannister as her Master of Coin?" Nate jested, pulling one leg up to his chest on his chair.
"The Hand fancies the Queen, not the other way around," Lawliet answered seriously. "No, that the Master of Law has vanished."
"Vanished?" Nate was instantly interested. "The Master of Law is on the small council. How can he vanish? He would have guards."
"How can the spider move about unseen?"
Varys. "The Master of Whisperers knows all of the secrets of King's Landing."
"But has proven himself time and again to House Targaryen."
"He may still be involved," Nate said, curling a finger in his hair thoughtfully. "But that's not the point. Why is the Queen coming to Riverrun?"
"There's the question," Lawliet mused. "Any guesses?"
"She wants you for her Master of Law."
"She would come here for that," Lawliet disagreed. "No, that's only a slim chance. It's something else. I suppose we'll have to wait until Riverrun to find out what."
They were on the road before midday. Lawliet was nothing if not punctual, at least. He rode at the head of the half-hundred of his bannermen he'd taken with him, Mail opting to ride a cart while Mihael, ever looking to emulate his father, rode on his own. Nate rode as well, on a pony instead of a mare, due to his small stature. He heard snatches of conversation from the men. Talking of Riverrun, of the road, the weather, or their families.
"Of course he will, he's not going to leave Blackwater without a Wammy for long. Either we'll be sent back or we'll travel back before the moon turns."
Nate inclined his head to better hear Mail and Mihael.
"Then he can send you home. If he's staying, so am I," Mihael said dismissively. "If there's something important enough that our father has to stay, then I want to be there as well."
"You'd leave me to run Blackwater?" Mail jested. "Oh, think of the possibilities—"
"I've got your possibilities right here," Mihael touched his dirk threateningly. "But perhaps you're right. We both stay, and our Lady mother can manage."
"Father won't like that, you know he won't."
Mihael threw his hands into the air, disgusted. "What would you have me do, trot off home and hide away while the action is going on somewhere else?"
"Yes."
"Craven."
"Brute."
"You think your Lord father would send us back to Blackwater?" Nate spoke up, his pony suddenly trotting alongside Mihael's mare.
"I wish he'd send you back to Greywater Watch," Mihael scowled at him. Mail thwapped him with a long cloth from the cart.
"You don't need to be so rude," Mail frowned at him, winding the cloth around his hand. "Our Lord father brought Nate here for a reason."
"And he seems to be benefiting us a lot, doesn't he?" Mihael muttered, spurring his mare faster forward, away from the cart. Nate guided his pony next to the cart.
"Would that I knew what his problem is," Nate said wearily, drawing his thick cloak tighter around his shoulders. "I might be able to do something about it."
"His problem is just that you're smarter than him. He's his father's heir, and he's bitter that you, some bastard son, can understand his father better than he can. Can beat him academically. He's never had a chance to test you in battle, so he still holds that," Mail laid across a row of sacks in the back of the cart. "He's jealous."
Jealous of a bastard's son? "He's foolish."
"He's Mihael," Mail laughed.
There was silence for a few minutes. "Would your Lord father send you home?"
"Without a doubt," Mail said comfortably. "It's not that big a deal, honestly. I don't know why Mihael gets so worked up. He'll rule over Blackwater in father's absence, with our mother as his advisor."
"He just wants to play at being his father," Nate muttered.
"Is that such a bad aspiration?"
"Maybe not."
When they stopped for the evening, the maester told him they'd made good time. "We'll make Riverrun by the morrow's even. We'll be just in time for supper."
"When will the Queen get there?" Nate asked as he dealt with his pony.
"The next evening, I believe. We'll find out if there's been news in Riverrun. They may be travelling slow."
"Daenerys Targaryen never moves slow," Nate disagreed. "The books say she was married to a Dothraki, and her Conquest in Essos was managed in a moon's turn."
"Queen Daenerys may move at whatever speed she likes. Personally, I'd like to be able to take our time. The Riverlands are beautiful to travel through."
"I imagine the mead helps with the cold," Nate said wryly, finding Lawliet's dining tent and entering.
"Doubtless."
Lawliet's dining table was always extensive, and since they needed only food enough for one day, two at most, the table was as rich as it always was. Tureens each of onion soup with kid and a thick shellfish stew, plates of crusty white and black breads, mounds of salmon steaks, flagons of cider, ale, mead and wine, honeyed oatbread and lemoncakes. Lawliet himself was sipping a cup of honey-mulled mead, a bowl of shellfish stew in front of him. Ser Ruvie was buttering a piece of crusty bread and already finishing a cup of wine. His bannermen were all around, serving themselves from the table and sitting where they pleased. One knight had a flagon of ale all to himself, the maester somehow ended up with two flagons of mead in front of him, though he didn't actually seem to be drinking them, and Mihael and Mail were sampling some of everything along the table.
Nate sat between Lawliet and Quillish, quickly serving himself some salmon and bread. The maester raised his eyebrow when Nate reached for the mead, but said nothing.
"You seem to have a lot of this to yourself, maester."
"Pure reasons, I assure you," Quillish smiled at him over the rim of his cup.
Nate took a sip of his own. A burn like wine, but sweet. Too sweet. Gods, Lawliet. "Purity and drunkenness go hand in hand I suppose, in Westeros."
The maester chuckled.
"Only the one cup, Nate," Lawliet said mildly, looking over for the first time. "You are three-and-ten of yet."
"I know my limits better than your son," Nate said from behind his cup.
Lawliet smiled wryly. "I can tell." Further down the table, an unsteady Mihael had finished his fourth cup of wine, where he'd thought his father hadn't been paying attention to him. "He'll learn from this experience in the morning."
"Lucky me, I've never had to," Nate strained not to roll his eyes.
"You will someday," Lawliet glanced at him. "And you'll wish you hadn't."
This time Nate did roll his eyes. "If such a day comes."
"It will."
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