Disclaimer: I do not own George R.R. Martin's great works, but Wylda is my own character. I'm not making any money off of this.
Author's Note: I've been sitting on this idea for a while now, so I thought I'd give it a shot. This is my first fic in this world, so I'm hoping it'll be interesting. I love reviews. :)
Wyman Manderly overlooked the harbor from his balcony. Already the winds were turning, forcing the sea higher up onto the weathered edges of Seal Rock, the massive stone marking the Outer Harbor of his fair city. Lord Manderly cast his eyes upon the Wolf's Den, the fortress his ancestors turned into a prison. Thankfully, its cells were mostly empty. Its few residents waited for a man of the Night's Watch Lord Manderly had summoned with a raven almost a month ago to escort them to their new home.
Many in Westoros had been deceived by the spring weather these many months. But as a Northerner, Lord Manderly knew better. His liege lord's House words rang through his mind nearly as often as his own: Winter is Coming. He could feel it deep within his bones.
Or perhaps you're simply growing fatter and having a harder time breathing.
He smirked at his stray thought. There was no reason for such dark thoughts, not when the kingdom was as stable as it was. Just two years before, Prince Rhaegar had married Princess Elia Martell, and a daughter had been born within that first year, with another babe following soon.
However, at the tourney at Harrenhal some moons past, Rhaegar had crowned his liege lord's daughter, Lyanna, Queen of Love and Beauty over his own wife. This still did not sit well with him, nor did it many of the Northerners. They would all much prefer the South keep to itself, including the happenings and people of King's Landing.
"My Lord."
He turned toward the voice of his steward, Ilbert.
"My Lord, there is a messenger from Harrenhal waiting at the gates."
Wyman assessed his red-faced steward with a furrowed brow. "And what is it he wants, Ilbert?"
The man pursed his lips. "He will not say, my Lord. He will only speak to Lord Manderly."
Wyman took a deep breath in through his nose before slowly letting it out. "I suppose I must see him, then."
"My apologies for the interruption, my Lord," Ilbert replied with a nod.
He gestured for Wyman to follow him, which the large man did. Perhaps he should not partake of a second helping at supper this evening.
Arriving to the gates of the castle took longer than expected at Wyman's slower pace, but Ilbert was patient as ever with him. Finally, Wyman was able to approach the gate itself and see the man who waited for him through the openings in the portcullis.
"I am Lord Manderly," he said, voice carrying despite being slightly out of breath. "What message is so important you'll have me come from my solar?"
The man turned to face him. His brown hair blew softly in the wind and his brown eyes looked him over. Though Wyman had never seen this man before in his life, the way the stranger peered at him made him believe that someone had described the Lord of White Harbor to this man.
"I've come to return to you something you left at Harrenhall, courtesy of Lord Walter Whent, my Lord Manderly," the man said as he approached the porcullis.
Wyman noticed the bundle in the man's arms and narrowed his eyes. The man's hand grasped the edge of the bundle and tugged gently, revealing the face of a sleeping babe.
Wyman felt his blood run cold all the way to his toes as he stood staring at the child through the gaps in the portcullis. His face gave away nothing to his guards and steward standing nearby.
"Lessie passed after the birthing, my Lord," the man said quietly. "She named you as father. Lord Whent has no use for a bastard in his halls."
Wyman looked upon the babe, its locks the same shade of brown as his own. Suddenly its mouth opened wide in a yawn, and when it closed once more there were the blue eyes of his sons staring at him.
His only moment of weakness in the entirety of his days met his gaze and held it. Daring him to look away. Pressuring him to speak again.
"And what would Lord Whent do should I deny the babe?"
"I'm to dash her head in against the nearest rock in front of you, my Lord, and leave her for the crows."
Wyman stared the callous brown eyes down, looking for some sense of the man behind the cold mask. The Lord of White Harbor ground his teeth together and turned to speak to his nearest guard.
"Open the gates."
The guard nodded, and his bidding was done. Within a minute, the portcullis opened enough to allow the stranger entrance. He held the babe out for Wyman to take. The large man held the tiny infant gingerly, one of his massive forearms more than enough for her to rest upon.
"Ilbert, escort this man inside and see that he is fed and given provisions for his return journey," Wyman said, looking his steward in the eye.
"Right away, my Lord. If you would follow me, please."
"One moment more, ser," Wyman said, facing the stranger.
The man gave a short bow. "Lorne, my Lord."
"Lorne," Wyman said evenly. "Do you know the date of this child's birth? Has she a name?"
"Lessie passed nearly two moons hence, my Lord. She did not give the child a name."
Wyman looked at the babe once more as the man awaited him. "Why did Lord Whent give me this choice?"
Lorne smiled. "He sent me here to receive payment for Lessie's life, my Lord. She was the best cook he had, after all. The babe was useless to him."
And he used the innocent to get me to listen. It was all Wyman could do to not choke the man before him. But his carefully thought-out exterior remained neutral.
"My steward shall see you clothed and fed this evening. You shall have a place to rest under my protection this evening, and you may break your fast in my hall come the morning. Discuss with him your Lord's payment."
"Thank you, my Lord," Lorne said with a deeper bow.
Wyman touched Ilbert's shoulder as his steward went to pass him. He leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Whatever his first price is, take it and double it. I want no more trouble out of this man, and Lord Whent did me a service sending the girl to me."
"Yes, my Lord."
He turned to their visitor once more and beckoned him forward. Wyman looked at the child once more, who had fallen back asleep. How the man—this Lorne—had managed to keep her alive without mother's milk was not the appropriate question. He did not overly care. What mattered was this was his daughter for true. He had lain with Lessie that night after his drinks had taken away his senses. Now he must face his Lady wife. Then he had to find the girl a nurse maid.
"I cannot believe this, Wyman," Janna Manderly said even as she reached for the babe.
Her husband's words had been brief and full of remorse as he held the girl nestled in his left forearm. There was no denying it was her Wyman's child, so much did the young girl already resemble him.
She stared down at the infant as she rocked her carefully, the familiar pull of motherhood calling her once more. She flicked her gaze to look up at him, but couldn't bring herself to be angry. Her Lord husband loved children, but she had been unable to give him more than his two sons. She'd never been able to have a daughter of her own. While their son Wylis and his wife had provided them a granddaughter just this year past, Wynafryd had her own mother. This child had none.
"Has she a name?" Janna asked.
"Not as of yet," Wyman replied. "The mother—Lessie—she died before she could give more than mine own name."
There was some hurt in her heart, but Wyman had been forever doting and loving, even still in their marriage bed after all these years. If this was how the gods chose to give her a daughter, Janna would not frown upon it. Even if it would take some getting used to.
"Would you call for Frieda?"
Wyman turned to the door to call his wife's hand maiden. The woman arrived promptly, having been instructed to go to the end of the hall.
"Yes, my Lady?"
"Frieda, I need you to go into the city and find a wet nurse for this child," Janna said, looking kindly at her hand maiden. "We will pay well for discretion."
"Yes, my Lady," Frieda said with a curtsey. "I shall return within the hour."
She was gone just as quickly as she left. Janna sat in her chair and held the child carefully, still looking down upon her.
"We will need to have our son's old things found and taken back to the nursery."
Wyman approached his wife and placed a careful hand upon her shoulder. She met his gaze and smiled up at him.
"You are certain?" he asked.
"Wylda."
"Wylda Snow," Wyman said.
"Perhaps a Manderly in name as well, some day."
Wyman stared down at the girl as she continued to slumber. She would not always be this quiet, and his castle might be the better for it. Wynafryd needed a playmate to grow with while she awaited her parents' next born. His wife already warmed to her. And the feelings of pride welled up within him at the thought of what his daughter could become.
"We shall yet see," Lord Manderly whispered.
