Author's Note:
A few readers have asked the same question about this story in the Reviews, so let me clear it up.
"Don't you have this story on AO3? Why are you so behind on FanFiction?"
I'm using FF as the chance to correct all the things that bug me about my first attempt at this story (a lot of those flaws were pointed out to me by readers). Going back and making major changes to my AO3 story would've felt disingenuous. So on this site, I'm basically posting a Reader's Cut of this story. That's why I haven't just reposted all of the Archive of our Own chapters over here; I'm slowly editing those chapters to improve them. While I really like even the wackiest ideas in my first try at writing a fic, I think this version is better.
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"We were already preparing a watery escape!" Ser Brynden Tully laughed at the relief. "Jaime Lannister, Edmure's surrender, and a guard with a note on a stone. . ."
Jon untied his horse, and Brynden greeted the white pup he hadn't seen since it was newly born.
"You remember me, don't you, fella?" he asked, scratching the white direwolf's fur. Petting a wolf that was twice the size of a hound was strange enough for Brynden. The pang of grief for King Robb and his lost wolf made the interaction even stranger.
"Lad, that's twice now you've returned from the dead to save a Tully."
He was glad to see Ser Jon. His nephew had refused to believe his half-brother dead and clung to the hope of seeing Jon again. At that moment, Brynden would have gladly traded places with Robb if it could make the reunion happen and restore a piece of what their enemies stole.
"Happy to be of service to Riverrun again, though I wonder if you have another cask of ale in the offering," joked Jon. "And as a southron, you might not know much of the Land Beyond the Wall, but stealing a maiden in the night? I never took you for a wildling, ser."
The girl fidgeted in place. Brynden had nearly forgotten she was with him and put a hand on her shoulder. She was shivering even before the tension of this clandestine meeting.
"Pretty as the Maiden she might be, but no, Ser Jon. May I present your good-sister, Queen Jeyne Stark."
In the shadows among the trees, Brynden couldn't read Jon's expression. The silence, though, hung longer and heavier than it should have.
"Your Grace," he said.
Brynden didn't know if Jon would blame Jeyne for the death of his half-brother. The Blackfish wasn't even sure if he blamed her.
The direwolf stepped forward to sniff her, and Jeyne let out a shriek.
"Shhh, child. I'm sure you're safe with Jon's wolf."
"Your Grace, he won't harm you," comforted Jon. "You can pet him, if you like."
"Call me Jeyne. . . please."
The bundle of clothes Jon had found smelled of men on campaign, and there was nary a dress or pair of breeches meant for anyone her size. Jon turned his back, in a small show of etiquette. Once they'd dressed, Brynden looked like a Lannister man-at-arms, and Jeyne looked like she had stolen someone else's laundry.
Ser Brynden had planned to swim to freedom. Being raised at the Crag, Jeyne claimed to be a strong swimmer. Still, the Blackfish swam under the Water Gate with a rope for her to hold, in his teeth. He'd swum leagues down the Trident many times, though years had passed since he last attempted it. At best, it was a risky proposition.
"In the morning, the Kingslayer will enter the castle and find me gone."
"And Lady. . . Her Gr. . . Jeyne as well," said Jon.
He grinned at his good-niece. "That they won't. She and her sister switched rooms before we snuck out. Lady Sybell is not like to be pleased by her girls."
"Ser Brynden, do you have a plan?"
"My first was the river," he mused aloud. "Had we three horses, we might make for Fairmarket. The townsfolk have no love for Lannisters and hiding-"
"Wait," interrupted Jon. "We look like Lannisters. If we return to their camp now, we could blend with the drunks. My lady, if we switch clothes. . . I'd look more like a Lannister soldier and at least you wouldn't look like you pilfered the clothes off one."
Brynden liked the idea. We don't have enough horses besides.
Jon gave his wolf, Ghost, some private instructions. Without him, they walked to the Lannister end of the camps.
The trio waited in the camps the following day. Lord Edmure took his time before surrendering, and the Kingslayer didn't notice anything amiss until the morning after that. Once they realized that the Blackfish was gone, the Lannisters sent outriders in every direction, Westermen all. On foot, they couldn't have hoped to reach Fairmarket, or anywhere else sufficient to hide them.
The commanders passed down orders for the main force to march on Raventree. They said the Kingslayer himself was at the head of the host. Brynden had little choice in their direction, but heading east was most like better for them than anywhere else Lannister might have chosen.
Some of the Freys had departed before dawn on the day prior, leaving fewer likely to recognize Brynden. He played an old hedge knight hired by the Lannisters late in the campaign. Jeyne pretended to be his washerwoman. Jon took up the role of squire.
"You won't need to be some gold-toothed mummer for that, will you?" he japed with the boy.
Brynden wore some of the plate armor Jon had in his saddle pack. Traveling in plate was cumbersome, but even a hedge knight wouldn't wear only cloth. So, he donned Jon's breastplate, pauldrons on his shoulders, and rembraces on his upper arms. Without leathers beneath, they chaffed even though Brynden shared Jon's tall and lean build. Two generations older than the boy and still fit enough to share his armor. It looked piecemeal and sloppy, but fittingly like a hedge knight.
They continued marching along the River Road for two days. Then, they found the first of Ryman Frey's dead men in a roadside tree. Word spread quickly of hanged Freys. "The Brotherhood," men cursed. Some of the talk said the Kingslayer sent them to their deaths. Few in the Lannister host grieved for their weak-chinned allies.
At Raventree Hall, the Blackfish led Jon and Jeyne onward. Only one commander thought to question him.
"Now that Riverrun surrendered," Brynden told the Westerman, "I must follow my orders and continue to Harrenhal."
The commander looked like he would argue, but instead he said a haggard, old hedge knight wasn't worth the effort.
"To where do we head, Ser Brynden?" asked Jeyne.
"The safest place in the Seven Kingdoms, sweetling," he said as fatherly as he could, relaxing his bushy eyebrows to soften his expression. "The only-"
"The Vale," Jon broke in.
"Very astute, lad."
Jeyne looked terrified. What's she heard of the Vale? Mountain Clans? Does she think I'll force her to scale the Giant's Lance with climbing spikes? His patience with the girl's fears was waning, but didn't let it show.
"Jon, I've not gone back there since I took you as my squire. Petyr Baelish married my niece. I heard no word from either directly, not since they wed months ago. And, Lysa wouldn't respond to ravens throughout the war. Robb, Cat, and I sent her dozens. Lysa was not well, would not listen to reason. Rumors speak of unrest in the Vale. To what end, I don't know."
"And yet you think it safe, ser?" worried Jeyne.
"I mean to find out," he replied firmly. "You will stay shrouded and hidden with an old friend of mine. Jon will either stay to guard you while I go to the Vale, or he'll accompany me. The mountain road will be impassable by now. I mean to find a ship in the Saltpans to bring me to Ironoaks or Gulltown. Once east of the mountains, the journey to the Gates of the Moon shouldn't be difficult."
"And the friend?" Jon questioned.
"An old soldier, much like me. I fought with him once and against him twice-"
"Against him?" asked Ser Jon, aghast.
"Or might be we shared a side twice and as foes only once." Brynden stroked his grey beard. It'd grown uncharacteristically shaggy. "As long as a man upheld his honor and never killed kin of yours, such distinctions blur with time. I wouldn't think to leave you with him, if I wasn't certain of his worth. He's like to know more of what's happening in the Vale and elsewhere."
Jon did not like his answer, Brynden could tell. But, he also knew the boy. Jon would trust him in this, even though he would remain cautious and leery of betrayal. Such is a good lesson for a young man to remember.
Jeyne would follow as well. The Blackfish wished it would be because of agreement or trust. Instead, she would defer to him out of meekness, worry, and desperation.
Though it was unlikely to inspire confidence in her, Brynden turned to his good-niece and said, "He hasn't wielded a sword in years. My old friend found his faith."