"I dream about it, every night, my dear
About our missed sunsets, and I hear
In every missed moments my heart, broken,
Which above it all, wants to tenderly, run
Run after you..."
Willas Tyrell seemed bored. The playwright held no candle to his grandmother's writing skills, and he missed those wits she had once. When he arrived in the estranged castle - Well, more like ruins when they arrived but...still - he missed High Garden, his private library, the fresh air, and the sun at all times.
After a moment, out of pure integrity for the language, he proclaimed calmly "Stop".
The actors looked at him, and at the crowd around. Everyone was amazed as well as frightenned. The band touched their instruments nervously, the mohagany wood against pale chins, fingers surrounding surprised figures striked some sense into him. "Please, I am honoured by your interpretation of this play, but without a doubt the guests are starving if you will it would be a pleasure for me to assist to the remanants of your play, after the dinner is served."
A girl rose her head, and looked right at him."Of course, My Lord. As you wish always."
Most of the comedians were leaving the stage, when two guards openned the high and heavy doors, an embrace of the winter's wind entering the place. Shivers were felt, even in the coldest of hearts, when they saw the three remaining children of Eddard and Catlyn Stark.
A voice, never to be found afterwards, announced coldly.
"Sansa and Arya Stark, Princesses of the North. Bran Stark, King in the North, and their companions, Gendry Waters, last male heir to the Baratheons, as well as Hodor, domestic serving Sir Brandon Stark."
Some may have suspected some hidden man in the shadows, but no one was able to recall watsoever.
Willas, on the other hand, straightenned in his chair, to say the less, astonished to see those faces, supposedly dead or away.
One side of his mind was at the task of imagining a combat with the liars, and counted one after the other the guards who could take them out.
The other side, wandered to imagine that he could have witnessed here, one of the most spectacular return known to mankind.
Nonetheless, his intelligence stayed somehow, still, assessing his chance of survival if he fought them, if his positions in High-Garden would be compromised, if...
"Sir Willas Tyrell, of High-Garden, we came here to kindly reclaim our rights to the throne of our father. Daenerys Targaryen agreed to the liberation of the North, and to our rights, she offered us the commandment for us and over all those who are living in peace here, wherever they came from."
A young women, with an auburn braid on the side, and eyes piercing, daggers at her waist, had pronouced those words. She clearly was Sansa Stark. If it was only for the legends and rumours, she had been to Dorne and fought at the side of Oberyn's children. For others, she was dead in the hands of the Boltons themselves, skinned alive.
He did not knew how but Willas remembered the letter from his grandmother telling him about the kind and candid Sansa, he would more like than love.
This women was a rock. She would do the North a great deal of pride and greatness. Still, as the heir of High-Garden, he had duties, and those included the unlimited expansion of his economical empire over the country. He managed to plant and grow roses, crimson coloured, named "The Red Wedding's Rose" or by some others "The Stark's Blood". They were very rare, and only bloomed for a week of the year, before fading. Their smell, very intense and powerful, was a new luxury the upper classes of the North payed with great fondness, if not tenderness. The nostalgia and melancholy was driving this country into a wall when he arrived, messenger of the newly allied Tyrell's to the Targaryens. He managed, while sending men and ressources to the Army, to built up a whole new economy here. He was a man of his words, as unable as he was to hold a sword now, he was capable of great goods, but greater damages if his efforts were to be in vain.
"Please, Sirs and Ladies, do calm down. I am sure this story will be solved soon. In the mean time, I will speak with the newcomers in my private chambers if they do not mind it. I take no liking in spies, whoever they may be" His eyes never left the gathered remaining of a solitary family.
As their eyes never flattered from his figure.
The fire was awful. The place was a room their father used to receive his subjects in, on common subjects.
This time, they were the beggars. How odd. How ironic. But most of all, how pitifull.
Sansa was sitting, a hand up at her chin, deep in thoughts. Arya was tapping her fingers on the central rond table, her right hand on her sword. Hodor was up behind Bran, showing no sign of impatience but the fact that he started balancing himself from one foot to another after three minutes in the room. Bran, himself, was sitting, still, caressing the growing hairs on his cheek absent-mindedly. Gendry, next to Arya, at the near end of the oval table, remained calmed, though his sighs and constent fidgeting were getting on the nerves of all the other persons in the room. When finally, the two doors were opened again, they all put serious faces in place, and waited until everyone was sitted.
Willas was in the middle, right in front of Bran, who had on one side his two sisters and on the other the last Baratheon.
The Tyrell heir had his council filling up each four chairs on each side of him. Each were chosen only for the family's sake, and reputation. None were there to be trusted. All were in place to be accepted and assessed on.
"Good. Since everyone is here we can start. First of all, your little spectacle had a good timing, but not so much narration. So, if you could willingly give me the Royal Assessment concerning your claims. "
Sansa looked over in Bran's direction. He did not move for two seconds. His arms still, he advanced his hands on the table, and appeared a little bit taller.
"Sure thing. Arya, if you please."
As she did not answer, her looks in a murderous state, Willas immediately thought of danger. Thing that did not last longer, because she was giving the enrolled paper to him with a nod, returning to her condescending position in her chair.
"Thank you."
He never needed anyone to tell him how to read or write. What he read there was astonishing to the least. He cleared his throat, before speaking aloud again. .
"If this document is correct, you are here, not only to take over the place, but to ensure the fact that the country of the North will be freed." He inhaled before continuing. "In doing so, the influence of the Queen would be lower than her actual rank permits her to be, so she offered a deal. Is that right ?"
Bran, letting a sigh escape his lips, answered.
"Yes, it was how Daenerys wanted it to be. We either agreed or went to jail.
- Not much of a real deal then..."
The intervention of a bitter Gendry earned him a hard look from everyone in the room.
"So, again, if I do not misunderstand, the deal was that she kept your youngest brother as her guard, and to ensure her backs, she sent you here with the mission to form an alliance... with us. With, the House Tyrell." He let every consequences that could bring this news settle in the air, before speaking again. "You do realize, that at this point, there is nothing you have that I do not already have right ? You are aware that this would mean a wedding ?" The last word was over-exaggereteky pronounced, as if it was poisonned. He looked at the sisters. Arya was not fit for a wedding, plus she could kill him in seconds if she wanted to. Sansa, the girl he had been promised to, the women he was so unsure how to talk to, let alone handle... "Sir, that is exactly what we agreed to. Whatsoever we have no regrets concerning this fair deal, and if I may, it is none of your concern as long as you agree to give us the lands withouth any further discussion". Silence was heavy on the heads in the room. His blood, not normally so hot-tempered, took a bad turn, and he answered "Why would I leave something I worked harder than you ever did, building back up, pieces after pieces, when your Majesties were not here, in the first place. I was assigned here, and I am staying here for as long as I can. The choice of my bride be damned."
Bran opened his mouth but was cut short by Arya's voice. "We were not in position to defend the castle, as the troops, your House was once a part of, was attacking the castle trough devious and treatorous strategy. Don't you recall, Sir ? Don't you recall, the voices dying in your head of people you would never see again, the way that soldier made you look like a boy to save you, the way you were knocked down by the crowd because your fiance was an asshole, the way men were looking at you ready to rape you senseless, the way you were named a crippled and carried away for protection, the way each nights you dream of a bull charging right at you, without being able to breathe or to stop this shit from hapening again and again. Do not presume we were not here on our own will, fate drove us away. And now that it has driven us back, you have no right to say no. No right nor no choice. So just announce the wedding, announce it and do it. Then it will be all over. Who will be there to ask after grand-children ? Everyone's dead anyway." She slapped her hand down on the brown furniture "Willas Tyrell, you have no right here. You have no right to insult us in our own house, in our home, just because your ego is bruised. Our family was massacred, our mother's cadavre cheated life and haunted the woods for as long as the war went on, we had to flee, above the Wall, to Dorne, to Braavos, to anywhere. We had to survive, you little piece of crap, so show some respect !" She snapped. "Show some respect and shut your filthy mouth before I do it myself..."
This time the air was vibrating, and Willas feared for his life. A second later, a sword at his chin, he prayed to every Gods and Godesses he knew that someone in the room would intervene to spare his life. None did. On the Stark's side, everyone was tense but silent. On the other, everyone was still, mouth agape, speaking words made out of thin air.
He had to push himself out. On his own, for once.
" Lady Stark " She pushed a little bit further. " I meant no disrespect by my statement. I answered withouth thinking and agree to any punishment you see fit, although... I stand my ground, and believe that an alliance between our two clans would be more appropriate than a civil war. My men worked harder than they ever did in High-Garden to built back this castle. When I arrived, ruins were all that was left. Some cadavres were discovered in a state you would not even believe... I am proud of what my commandment has done with this land. Your people respect me, even though their loyalty will always lie in your hands, I insist on - even if that sounds bizarre to some - the alliance deal our Queen is proposing. None of us wants to end up in jail, do we ? " He earned a small smile from the assembly. His eyes never left Arya's. After a few seconds, she slowly drew back her sword, turning to her siblings. " If you ever disrespect us in any way, in laws or not, you do know that I will kill you, right ?" By Gendry's side, she turned a puzzled look at him. He nodded. She sat down. Then, whitout a thought he turned to look at Sansa. Her face was unreadable, and he wished for a closer look just erase the wrinkles she made invisible to any human eyes.
" Lady Sansa Stark, do you agree to this wedding ? Is it your wish ?" Willas aked her sincerely. He frowned, curious about her answer. She said " Yes " and left the room, a hand on a dagger, only leaving a trail of cold in the air.
So, first chapter. All very tense, I don't really know what to think about it. The title is about the "battle" between Willas and Arya. If it happenned in condition, it would probably have been an appropriate anwser. I found it on a Shakespear's Insult Generator (Yeah, it actually exists) . So for the next chapter, I do not wish to say too much. First, because I don't have a grand picture of what it will be, and second, because I have no idea of how I will manage to write it with my holidays ending in 5 days. Students life and all. Anyway, thank you for reading, and I'll try to give the narration more "battles" next time ;).