Twenty years ago, Moat Cailin had looked a total ruin. Twelve years ago, it had been largely restored, but the signs of its collapse were still quite evident.
To gaze upon the moat now, anyone would think it had never fallen into decay. Even those of us who were here when it had.
For the first time since her firstborn's wedding, Lady Daliah Clegane entered the grounds of Moat Cailin through the southern gates. This was her second visit to the North. Twice more than I ever expected to be here. During her first visit, she had been impressed by the size of the moat. Now she was impressed by the appearance as well as the size. I only wish my reason for coming was as pleasant as the first visit.
While Daliah was past her fiftieth nameday, she was still a fair rider. She rode at the front of her party atop her cream palfrey. After passing under the portcullis, they were received by a pair of attendants, who offered to lead them to the main courtyard. It doesn't seem as cold as last time, she realized. It was still colder than she would have liked, but not unbearably so.
As Daliah and her retainers were led further into the moat, Tyta's small yet sturdy courser trotted alongside her. The young girl exclaimed "We're finally here, Grandmother. Are you excited?"
"Oh, most definitely, I am excited, sweetling," Daliah claimed kindly. Perhaps not as much as you, but I haven't seen my oldest boy in years.
Her granddaughter did not seem effected by the cold at all. Perhaps she is too ecstatic to notice the sudden drop in temperature. Tyta looked around at their surroundings and said giddily "I can't believe we're actually in the very heart of the Legion without Banners. I've always wanted to see this place."
Daliah smiled, though her smile was not wholly a joyful one. Her happiness had been somewhat marred by anxiety ever since the attempt on Sandor's life. It had been months since that dismal event took place, and Daliah Clegane still found it difficult to believe someone as adorable and enthusiastic as her granddaughter had killed a man. She's even younger than her father was when he killed his first.
Sandor's first was only a poacher. His daughter had taken down an assassin. That was nearly as impressive as it was horrifying.
In any case, that was also why they were here. When Gregor learned of the Golden Company's presence at Clegane's Keep, he had investigated into the matter. Although his search had been fruitless at first, last month he had uncovered what may have been a promising lead. He had yet to disclose this lead, but he claimed it had something to do with Tyta. As such, he wanted Sandor to send his niece to the moat. He had also requested Sandor to come, if possible.
Despite his efforts to make himself available, Sandor was unable to come to the moat. Obara would have liked to go along with Tyta, as well, but her duty dictated that she must remain with her husband and their sons. Be that as it may, Sandor and Obara did not want their daughter travelling to Moat Cailin without some member of her family in her company.
Fortunately, Daliah had been willing to make that trek. When her lord husband was alive, she had hardly ever left Clegane's Keep. Unless it was with him, or when I came north for Gregor and Dacey's nuptials. Alas, Tarrence Clegane had been dead these last five years. As such, Daliah was no longer the Lady of Clegane's Keep, and thus, she was not obligated to stay there with her family.
So, at Gregor's behest, Tyta had left for Moat Cailin a moon's turn ago. Her grandmother had gone with her, as had a few dozen of House Clegane's soldiers and servants. One of those men was Ser Bronn, the keep's master-at-arms. In spite of his background as a sellsword, Ser Bronn was the most accomplished swordsman in Sandor's service. For that reason, the Hound saw it fit to entrust the man with the safety of his mother and daughter.
He may love gold more than anything, but at least he is skilled and reliable. Anyway, while he may not love us, we've got more than enough gold to make him love our well-being.
As they neared the stables, Daliah turned to Tyta and told her"You know, my dear, this is where your parents met."
"Really?" Tyta said in interest.
"Yes, indeed," her grandmother confirmed, "Your Grandfather Oberyn is one of the Legion's longest-serving members. His two eldest daughters used to live here with him. When I came to the moat for your aunt and uncle's wedding with my other two children, your father interacted with them. Of the two, Obara was the one he bonded with more closely, especially in the training yard."
"I'm not surprised," Tyta commented. Given her parents' love for melee combat, I suspected she wouldn't be. "Was this back when Mother was a Sand?"
"Yes, your mother was still a bastard at the time," Daliah recalled, "Because of that, I admit I did not wholly approve of her association with your father back then. Not long after, though, the King legitimized her and your Aunt Nymeria. That was when your grandfathers thought to consider drawing up a marriage contract. After Greyjoy's Rebellion, the contract was finalized and carried out."
"And a few years later, I came along," Tyta muttered slyly.
"Yes, and Mors and Dermot soon after," Daliah remarked, grinning.
Tyta sighed at the mention of her brothers. She misses them. And her parents. It had been over a month since they departed from Clegane's Keep. In spite of how happy Tyta was to see Moat Cailin, it could not have been easy to be so far from home.
Daliah could imagine how she felt. Before she was betrothed to Tarrence, she had never been away from Deep Den for more than a day. Ever since her wedding, she had not gone back to her own ancestral home even once. At least Tyta will go back to Clegane's Keep once this predicament is resolved.
On the other hand, when Daliah left for the keep, she had been six and ten. That was twice her granddaughter's current age. That age gap on its own made all the difference. Girls of six and ten had seen their first flowering, and they knew what was expected of them. Girls of eight, however, were still immersed in the blissful innocence of childhood. Although Tyta's hands were stained with the blood of Connin, her innocence had not been completely shattered just yet. She was still a child.
Ser Bronn was the first person in Daliah's party to dismount. After climbing off his fierce destrier and turning the reins over to the stableboys, he went over to Daliah and her granddaughter, intent on offering his assistance.
Daliah watched as Bronn helped Tyta down from her courser. The girl could mount and dismount on her own easily enough, but she was fond of Ser Bronn, and she trusted him as much as her father did. Aside from that, Tyta was in an unfamiliar place, and she remembered the advice her mother gave her. 'When setting foot in a new land, it helps to hold hands with someone close to you when your foot actually hits the ground.' That was a sentiment Daliah agreed with.
Before Bronn could extend a hand to Daliah, another hand was offered to her. This hand did not belong to someone she was close to. As it happened, she could not think of anyone who was particularly close to the owner of this hand. Even so, Gregor had deemed this person's presence to be every bit as essential as Tyta's.
Daliah tentatively accepted the Essosi's hand, and she allowed him to help her from the saddle of her palfrey. He had a firm yet delicate grip. Once she was standing beside him on the ground, she turned to him and said appreciatively "Thank you, Jaqen."
"A man requires no thanks," Jaqen H'ghar assured her, "A man is pleased just to render aid to a lady, as it was a lady's son who saved a man."
He seems to enjoy reminding us of that. Daliah did not know what interest Gregor might have had in Jaqen H'ghar, but it must have been of great importance. He had adamantly insisted that Jaqen and Tyta come to Moat Cailin as soon as possible. Daliah and everyone else in her party were only there to accompany and protect the two of them.
It had been months since Jaqen H'ghar was introduced to the Cleganes, and still Daliah knew as little of him as she did back then. His most distinctive characteristics were his exotic accent and his speech. He tended to speak of himself and others as though he was speaking of people not present. Not once had he called himself "I" or someone he was addressing "you."
She wondered why that was. Maybe it is traditional that way in the Free Cities. Or maybe he has a perpetual identity crisis. Daliah could no more than speculate on this subject. She had never been across the Narrow Sea. She had never been anywhere other than the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the North, for that matter. That alone is more of the world than I cared to see. As far back as her girlhood, Lady Daliah had not been one for travelling. Only for her family would she even be willing to leave the Westerlands.
Daliah Clegane stood in relative silence as her vassals got off their horses. As the stableboys tended to their mounts, Jaqen H'ghar placed a soft hand on Daliah's shoulder. When she turned to him, he informed her "A man believes a lady's other son approaches."
She followed the foreigner's eyes, and she discovered he was correct. A tall man – the tallest one Daliah had ever seen – was coming towards her. He was dressed in a doublet of boiled leather, woolen trousers, and a hooded cloak. All his attire was black with a tint of purple. The image of a lone mountain was emblazoned on his doublet.
When he was close enough, Daliah pulled her son into a hug. At least, she tried to pull him into one. It was more he who pulled her. Gregor Clegane was too large and too strong to be pulled by anyone. Or pushed. No one could ever push the Mountain That Rides around.
Regardless of who initiated the hug, Daliah was delighted by it. She had only seen Gregor twice in the last ten years. She had come to cherish any and all encounters with him.
"It is so good to see you again, Greg," Daliah whispered tenderly.
"You, as well, Mother," Gregor said in response, holding her gently. The top of her head only came up to his throat, so he had to squat a bit to make them a little more even in height. Otherwise, Daliah could only have embraced her son at his midsection. As long as I can hold him, I don't care which part of him I embrace.
When they pulled apart, Daliah realized Gregor had not entered the courtyard alone. Three other people were with him. One was a familiar black-bearded man armed with a spear.
"Good day to you, Polliver," Daliah bade him.
"And to you, milady," the captain of Gregor's household guard politely rejoined.
The other two were a girl who was about Tyta's age and a boy who was about half it. While Rickard was the only one of her grandchildren by Gregor she had ever seen, she was certain she was currently looking at two of his siblings. Daliah found it reasonable to assume that Gregor's other children would be of a similar build to their elder brother, and the girl and the boy were both quite big for their age.
A moment later, Gregor stated "Mother, this is Vallory and Larys. Vall, Lar, welcome your grandmother to the moat."
Daliah Clegane knelt down and spread her arms to envelop Vallory and Larys in a hug. They were strong for their age, too, but like their father, they knew their own strength. They did not squeeze her too tightly.
Daliah then introduced Tyta to her uncle and cousins. More reintroducing, in Gregor's case. Gregor had only been to Clegane's Keep once since Tyta was born. He had seen Tyta her at the time, but she had been too young to remember him. She'll certainly remember him this time, though.
Larys was thrilled to meet her, but Vallory was downright ecstatic. Tyta's responses were much the same. While she was pleased to see Larys, she seemed much more pleased to be acquainted with Vallory. They do not have any sisters of their own. Daliah predicted that Tyta and Vallory would get along just fine.
Daliah Clegane had nine grandchildren. Five by Gregor, three by Sandor, and one by Ellyn. Seven boys and two girls. All of them born within the last three and ten years. As of today, the only ones she had yet to see were Alyver and Torrhen, Gregor's second and fourth sons. With luck, they and their mother will be back soon, and I can see them then.
She had no way of knowing how long that would be. For Gregor and Dacey's sake as well as her own, she hoped it would not be too long.
"How was the journey?" Gregor asked.
"Long and tiresome," Daliah replied straightforwardly.
"Well, I had fun," Tyta proclaimed, "The Riverlands are beautiful. There are so many wonderful sights. Also, you'd never want for food down there. While we brought more than enough supplies, there was plenty of game to hunt and fish to catch. Shelter wasn't a problem, either. We camped in the wilderness most nights. It's still warm enough in the south that you can sleep outside without catching a chill. We didn't stay outside every night, though. On a couple occasions, we stopped at an inn, and when we reached the Crossing, we were hosted by Lord Frey."
Daliah scoffed. Count on her to give a thorough answer.
Normally, Tyta was not so talkative. These last thirty days, however, she had been. Since there had not been much to do on the road, that was somewhat understandable. Anyway, Daliah did not mind. Her granddaughter found a plethora of interesting things for them to talk about. Furthermore, Tyta did not talk solely with her grandmother. Often, she had spoken with Ser Bronn and Jaqen H'ghar, too. She never spoke with any of us at the same time, Daliah noticed. At least she never said a word about what happened with Connin, either.
While not very plausible, Daliah almost felt as though Tyta had forgotten that experience altogether. As much as I and her parents would want her to forget it, let us hope she has not. If so, this trip was entirely unnecessary, and Gregor's investigation will be back at a standstill.
"How did you like your stay at the Twins?" Gregor said inquisitively.
"Much better than the last one," Daliah replied, "Lord Stevron was kind enough to house our entire retinue indoors for the night. He even gave Tyta and I our own private bedchambers in the highborn guest apartments."
"I think he liked you, Grandmother," Tyta wryly interjected.
Gregor was perplexed. "What?"
"Grandmother's room was right next to Lord Stevron's," Tyta disclosed, "And when we had dinner that night, he insisted that she sit beside him on the dais."
"Well, Lord Stevron is a widower these last thirty or so years," Ser Bronn pointed out, "Men can get mighty lonely."
"I suppose that's true." Ever since Tarrance died, I've felt somewhat lonesome myself. Lady Daliah was a widow, and Lord Stevron was a widower. Despite having the surname of Frey, he was a decent man. Alas, he and Daliah were well past the practical age for marriage. Additionally, she had no plans to remarry. After three decades of widowerhood, I doubt he does, either.
"There is one thing I will say about Stevron Frey," Daliah thought aloud, "He has the charm Lord Walder so markedly lacked. So much so that it is hard to believe he is his father's son."
"Well, he is," Gregor affirmed.
"You could say he's one of far too many," Bronn japed. Daliah and some of the others snickered. He may have a point. It was a little crowded at the Twins.
Daliah decided the other two men there were overdue for an introduction. She gestured for them to come forward. When they were at her sides, she turned to her oldest son and told him "Gregor, I would like you to meet the master-at-arms of Clegane's Keep, Ser Bronn."
Gregor smiled at the former sellsword and shook his hand. He remarked "I am so glad to finally make your acquaintance, Ser Bronn. My sister and my brother-by-law have told me so much about you."
"I will take that as praise," Bronn muttered brazenly, "After all, when last I saw the Imp and the Imp's Bitch, I was on good terms with them. Unless their opinion of me has turned sour, I believe I still am."
Gregor chuckled at that. Daliah frowned and candidly murmured "I would rather you did not refer to my daughter that way, ser."
"I meant no offense, milday," Bronn hastily apologized.
"You might be interested to know that Ellyn actually likes that moniker, Mother," Gregor apprised her, "She told me so herself. Every time someone calls her that, she does not grimace. She grins."
Daliah was equal parts stunned and appalled. "Who all has been calling her that?"
"The spearwives stationed at the Wall were the first ones," Gregor recounted, "You see, they were cross with Ellyn for continually besting them in combat. That moniker was their attempt to get even with her. A very poor and ineffectual attempt, all things considered. Anyway, before too long, the other wildlings and the black brothers were using it, too. Soon enough, so was the whole of the North. If Ser Bronn is any indication, it appears the rest of the Seven Kingdoms has heard of it, as well."
"You mean the whole of Westeros is slandering my daughter's name?" Daliah Clegane spat in disgust. Moreover, they are slandering the name of Tywin Lannister's daughter-by-law.
"You may see it that way, Mother," Gregor debated, "But Ellyn doesn't. That moniker does not bother her. Especially since she is Tyrion's. Besides, what's the sigil of the southern branch of our house?"
"Three hounds," Daliah replied. That was when clarity sank in. "Oh… in that context, I suppose the moniker would be appropriate."
Doesn't make me like it any more than before. But if Ellyn can deal with it, I guess I should, too.
At any rate, there was still one person Daliah had yet to present. She turned to the only individual there who was not a native of Westeros, and she announced to her son "This is the man you wished to see, Jaqen H'ghar."
Gregor did not smile this time, but he still held out his hand. As the Essosi took it and shook it, Gregor bluntly declared "A lord is grateful to receive a man."
Daliah was intrigued. He sounds as though he's practiced that line.
Jaqen H'ghar raised an eyebrow in fascination. Then he gave a nod and commented "A man is equally humbled by a lord's summons."
Gregor nodded back and stated "A man, a lord, and a lord's niece have much to discuss."
Jaqen H'ghar folded his arms and proclaimed "A man will be ready to do so at a lord's earliest convenience."
"So will a lord's niece," Tyta mentioned wryly.
"All in good time," the Mountain asserted. Here he stopped emulating Jaqen's pattern of speech. He looked around at his mother and her party, and he proposed "First, let's get you all settled. Mother, we have set up lodgings for your vassals in the Boarder Tower. I would like you, Tyta, Ser Bronn, and Jaqen H'ghar to reside in the Lord's Tower for the duration of your stay."
"As you command, Gregor," Daliah acknowledged.
"It is not a command," said Gregor, "It is my wish. I would sleep much better at night if I knew you were sleeping nearby."
"You do not have to explain yourself," Daliah assured him. After all, I know what he went through just as much as the other way around. Mere days before she and her granddaughter began the journey north, Clegane's Keep had received a raven from Moat Cailin. Gregor had sent a missive informing them of an attack on the moat.
The attack was small and isolated, but it had resulted in at least one casualty. Much like their cousin, Vallory and Larys had had a brush with danger of their own. It was only by the sacrifice of a valiant Northman that they survived. Also like Tyta, Gregor's daughter and son seemed to have recovered from the shock of that tragedy.
Nevertheless, Gregor was not about to lower his guard. Especially since the one responsible for that fiasco was still at large. In all likelihood, the perpetrator is still somewhere in the moat. If that is the case, we're no safer here than we were at the keep. At least Gregor would make them feel safe. Even if they really weren't, Daliah was not afraid for herself. She had already lived a long and fulfilling life. She was far more concerned with the welfare of her children and their children.
Once Daliah's retainers were organized in an orderly fashion, Polliver went to escort them to the Boarder Tower. At the same time, the Mountain and his children led his mother, his niece, the former sellsword, and the Essosi to the Lord's Tower.
The Lord's Tower was still the tallest of the buildings at Moat Cailin, and Daliah was a much older woman than when she last saw it. All the same, she was by no means frail or weak. She managed to make the ascent to the tower's upper levels without leaning against the rail or holding anyone else's hand.
Gregor's bedchamber was at the very top of the tower. The nursery and the older children's bedrooms were on the next floor, and the guest apartments were immediately below that. That was where Daliah and Tyta were put up. Everything lower than the guest apartments was space allotted for the Clegane household. That included both branches of the house. As such, Bronn and Jaqen H'ghar had their rooms in that section.
When Daliah and her party arrived at the moat, it was already the late afternoon. By the time Daliah got settled into her quarters, it was the early evening. Supper would be in an hour or two. Daliah decided to lie down until then. She had been riding for a full turn of the moon. The whole last week of that interval had been spent traversing the Neck. Daliah finally realized just how fatigued she felt. So much time on the road truly does take a toll on one's endurance and spirit.
Nothing particularly remarkable happened that day. After a brief nap, Lady Daliah had dinner with her son, her grandson, her granddaughters, the household of House Clegane of Moat Cailin, and the officers of the Legion without Banners. The few of them who were still at the moat, at any rate. In fact, other than Gregor, Ser Gerion Lannister and Tormund Giantsbane were the only members of the secret council who were accounted for. Smalljon Umber was dead, Willas Tyrell was in King's Landing, and everyone else was on the other side of the Narrow Sea.
Daliah did not linger after dinner. Instead, she returned to her quarters. She thought about turning in for the night, but she found she was not as tired as before. Even after lying on her back for nigh on a full hour, she could not drift into a slumber. Even here, sleep does not come easy. These days, this was not an unusual problem for her. In fact, lately, she had lost a lot of sleep.
Mother once said that as one gets over, sleep is required less and less. As a girl, I never had trouble sleeping. Now I am a mother and a grandmother both, and I have these frequent bouts with insomnia.
Of course, age was not the only known cause of restlessness. Stress was often a factor, too. Daliah Clegane had certainly been under a great deal of stress. The looming threat of the Others and the loss of her husband had been a weight on her mind for years. Now there was the knowledge that her family was scattered throughout the Known World, and that no matter where they went, danger always seemed to be lurking just around the corner. It is enough to drive one mad.
Most of all, there was that feeling of loneliness. When she shared her bed with Tarrence, Daliah never had trouble falling asleep. Almost every night since he died, she had lain awake for an hour or longer before she finally managed to nod off.
Do other widows have such difficulty sleeping? There must be some who do. Some widowers, too. She soon found herself wondering if Tywin Lannister ever wrestled with this problem after the death of Lady Joanna.
Lady Daliah thought about calling for a sleeping draught. Those usually helped. But the master could be asleep, and I would hate to disturb him, even for my benefit.
Ultimately, Daliah Clegane decided she was not ready to go to sleep after all. So, she got out of bed, pulled on a robe over her nightgown, exited her room, and climbed the stairwell up to the top floor of the tower.
There was only one room on the top floor of the Lord's Tower. Daliah encountered a pair of soldiers standing guard outside the entrance of that room. Luckily, they both knew who she was, so they let her pass.
Hoping her son had not turned in just yet, she softly knocked on the door to his bedchamber.
A few seconds later, she heard heavy footfalls, which gradually got louder and closer. The door opened to reveal Lord Gregor Clegane. He was clad in a robe of his own. That thing looks as though it could fit a bear. Then again, since a Mormont normally sleeps here, perhaps it does.
There were no circles under Gregor's eyes, so it was likely he had not been asleep or trying to sleep. The fact that he did not appear disgruntled or irate was further proof of that. He smiled down at Daliah and told her "Good evening, Mother."
"Evening, Greg," she said in response, "May I come in?"
"Of course," he replied, standing aside and holding the door open for her.
Daliah swiftly entered the bedchamber. Almost straightaway, she noted its size. It was nearly twice the size of her own bedroom, and even that room was slightly larger than the lord's bedchamber at Clegane's Keep. I doubt even the tallest man and the tallest woman in the realm would really need this much space. Of course, as the widely-acknowledged holders of those titles, Gregor and Dacey could decide that on their own.
After closing the door, Gregor Clegane walked over to his mother and asked courteously "What can I do for you?"
Daliah wrapped herself more tightly in her night robe. It's so cold up here. How can he stand it? "I was just hoping to talk to you."
"About what?" asked Gregor.
That is a good question. Daliah had no particular subject in mind. "Anything, I suppose."
"Alright then," Gregor conceded. He sat down at the foot of his bed and patted the spot next to him.
Trying not to think too much of what her son and his wife had done there, Daliah sat down beside Gregor. He must have noticed how cold she was. So, he picked up a thick woolen blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She softly murmured her thanks.
As Daliah pulled the blanket closer to her, Gregor assumed "Couldn't sleep?"
"Is it that obvious?" Daliah asked rhetorically.
"Somewhat," her son contended, "This late at night, the only people who are still awake are the on-duty guards and myself."
"The guards I understand," Daliah remarked. Without them, anyone could walk in or out of the moat. "But why are you up this late?"
"Working," he apprised her. It was then that Daliah realized Gregor was holding something in his left hand. He held it up for her to see. It was a small stack of parchments.
"Do you always work at night?" Daliah said inquiringly.
"No, not always," Gregor disclosed, "There are other things I do. However, I can't do most of them right now."
"Why is that?" Lady Daliah asked.
"Because Dacey's not here," he cockily replied, "The rest of them I can't do right now because you are here."
Daliah felt the urge to roll her eyes. That was more than I needed to know. "You do sleep, though, right?"
"Of course, I sleep," Gregor reassured her. "Even mountains need to lie down from time to time."
"A responsible lord doesn't just rest 'from time to time,'" Daliah advised him.
"Oh, I sleep when I can," Gregor murmured, "Don't worry; that's almost every day."
"How many hours?" she questioned him.
Although Gregor was under no obligation to answer Daliah, he decided to indulge her. He thought on that for a moment, and then he explicated "I would say five or six on average. Seven if it's been a quiet day. Four if it's been a long one. Unfortunately, the days tend to be quite long up here."
Yet the North tends to get fewer hours of sunlight than the rest of the realm. Oh, well; that's still better than I would have thought.
"Anything else you want to know?" Gregor muttered sardonically. "My eating habits, perhaps?"
"No, and I'm sorry if I seem to be prying," Daliah asserted. She knew full well Gregor was a grown man. By the Seven, he's the most grown man in the realm. "I'm aware that I lost the right to order you to bed long ago. It's just that-"
"You needn't explain yourself," Gregor calmly interjected, grinning down at her, "I know; even at this stage of my life, you can't help being my mother."
Daliah nodded. That's it exactly. "All parents go through that."
"All good ones, at least," Gregor argued.
"Fair enough," Daliah conceded, "Someday you and your siblings will, as well. I can promise you that you'll never stop being your children's father. Even when Rickard is taller than his mother and has children of his own, there will be times when you'll still think of him as a little boy."
"That's debatable," Gregor slyly countered, "Not because I won't remember his youth, but because he never really was a little boy."
Daliah chuckled and remarked "You may be right. After all, he did set the record for the largest live babe born in Westeros history."
"Yes, he did…" Gregor mumbled softly. Ever since Daliah entered the room, her son had retained his smile. Right then, his grin gradually faded. Once it changed into a frown, he let out a deep sigh. It was as though he suddenly became dreary for no apparent reason.
But there was a reason. Almost instinctively, Daliah knew what it was. "Thinking about him?"
"All the time," Gregor glumly affirmed, "He arrived safely in King's Landing, and he's written me at least twice a week since he got there. His letters suggest he is doing just fine. Be that as it may… I cannot help but worry. I know he's among friends, but he is also among some of the worst filth in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms."
Daliah cocked her head in interest. "After fifteen years, I would have thought you and your colleagues purged most of the realm's 'filth.'"
"Most of it, yes," Gregor stated, "But not all. King's Landing is the one place the Legion has no official jurisdiction. My fellow Legionnaires and I can only conduct business there if King Robert authorizes it."
"Even so, Rickard still has his own guards and allies," Daliah pointed out, "Additionally, he is under the king's protection. So long as he does not stir up any mischief and his father remains loyal to the crown, he should be out of harm's way."
Gregor reflected on that for a bit. Then he lightly nodded his head to show he agreed. He mumbled quietly "I pray you're right, Mother. If anything was to happen to Rickard… I do not know what I might do."
"I felt much the same when you first went north," Daliah disclosed, "It'll be a while before you get accustomed to that feeling, Greg. But sooner or later, you will get used to it. Otherwise, the only alternative is to drive yourself insane with worry."
"Oh, I have no intention of letting that happen, Mother," Gregor proclaimed, "After all, in spite of everything, Rickard is a Clegane. Cleganes are tougher and stronger than most other people."
"Yes, they are," Daliah concurred. And that is precisely why Rickard will endure. Although she had not seen her oldest grandchild since he was small enough to hold in her arms, she was confident he would live to a ripe old age. I wouldn't be surprised if he outlasts his whole generation.
"Of course, Rickard isn't the only one of your children who is currently away," Daliah mentioned.
"That is true," Gregor admitted, "I think about Alyver and Torrhen plenty, too. However, I do not worry about them as much. At least they're with their mother. And their aunt, uncle, and cousin."
"Do you mean to say you do not worry for Dacey, Ellyn, Tyrion, and Duncan?" Daliah supposed.
"Oh, absolutely not," Gregor firmly refuted, "I worry about them, as well. Duncan especially; he's only a little older than Torrhen. Nevertheless, I can derive some relief from the knowledge that my wife, my sister, and my sister's husband can take care of themselves."
"Indeed, they can," Daliah remarked. Between Dacey's strength, Tyrion's wits, and Ellyn's combination of both qualities, the three of them can overcome any challenge the Free Cities can throw their way.
Another thought abruptly occurred to Lady Daliah. She predicted it would be a sensitive issue, so she approached it discretely and carefully. "What about Vallory and Larys? Are you at least able to reassure yourself of their safety?"
Gregor gazed down at his mother in silent contemplation for about a minute. Then he declared "Up until a month ago, I was. At that time, my greatest concern was that they might get sick or injured. Then the incident with the printing press happened."
He rubbed the fingers of his free hand against his forehead, as though it ached. Daliah gently placed her own hands on her son's arm. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but she could not think of anything that might work.
"Now I know how you felt when Sandor got burned," Gregor commented.
"No, this is worse," Daliah disputed, "I wasn't there when Euron Greyjoy pushed your brother's face into that fire. You, on the other hand, were right in the next room when a ceiling threatened to collapse onto your son and daughter."
Had that happened to me, I would have most definitely fainted or gone into shock.
Gregor gazed at the wall for about ten seconds. Then he inquired "Can I confide in you, Mother?"
"Always," Daliah answered.
Gregor looked her in the eye and disclosed "When that explosion took place, all I could think about was the possibility that Larys and Vallory were within the blast radius. When that thought occurred to me… I was so scared. I never felt so terrified of anything in my entire life. I honestly thought I was going to lose my children."
"That is every parent's worst fear," Daliah professed, "Even parents who resent their children would never wish to see them harmed."
"The likes of Tywin Lannister, Walder Frey, Balon Greyjoy, Roose Bolton, and Randyll Tarly might disagree with you," Gregor countered.
"Alright, parents who are capable of human emotion would never wish to see their children harmed," Daliah corrected herself.
This time, Gregor nodded in agreement. He then commented "Although I was beyond relieved that Larys and Vallory survived that episode, their survival came at a price. Smalljon Umber gave his life to save my children. One of my closest friends, most reliable allies, and finest officers is dead now."
"He was a good man," Daliah pronounced. She was not merely saying that; she had met Smalljon Umber during Greyjoy's Rebellion. He and the rest of the members of the secret council had gotten along very well with the Cleganes of Clegane's Keep. When the Legion helped prepare Sandor and Obara's wedding, Smalljon had been tasked with organizing all the food and drink for the feast. Daliah and most of the other guests felt he did a rather outstanding job. "Do not blame yourself for his death, Greg. Blame the one who caused that explosion."
"Oh, I do," Gregor muttered severely, "I have every intention of finding that piece of scum."
"Once you do find him, what then?" Lady Daliah stated enquiringly, "Will you execute him?"
"No, I have promised that honor to Lord Greatjon Umber," Gregor revealed, a wicked grin crossing his countenance. As opposed to his earlier smile, Daliah did not like that grin. It struck her as eerily unpleasant. As long as Gregor remembers this is still about justice, I will not voice any protest. Lord Umber does have a right to vengeance, after all.
"Are you any closer to identifying the guilty party?" Daliah enquired.
"No closer than we were last month, I'm afraid," Gregor disclosed. "Whoever he is, he's very good at covering his tracks."
"Well, it had to have been someone who holds the knowledge of how to make black powder," Daliah contended. "How many people know that?"
"Only me," Gregor informed her, "I've gone to great lengths to ensure that no one apart from myself knows the proper formula and technique required to mix black powder. However, I am not the only person in the world who can acquire the substance."
"How do you mean?" Daliah inquired.
"As you may recall, I supplied the royal army with black powder during Greyjoy's Rebellion," Gregor professed, "The distribution and handling of the powder was closely monitored by trusted soldiers of the Legion. Although most of the powder was used, there was some left over when the fighting was done. Enough to fill twenty kegs."
"What did you do with those kegs?" his mother said inquisitively.
"I brought them back to the moat," Gregor recounted, "They've been stored under guard in the Smelting Tower since then."
"Have you made any more black powder since Greyjoy's Rebellion?" Daliah presumed.
"No, and I do not intend to," Gregor pronounced, "In fact, I am somewhat tempted to toss the remainder of my current supply into the swamps of the Neck."
"Why don't you?" said Daliah. She honestly thought that was a worthwhile idea. At least then, the black powder would cause no more grief and destruction, and I doubt the crannogmen would try to salvage the kegs.
"Because disposing of it might not be the most practical thing to do," Gregor debated, "The safest, yes, but not the most practical. It is still a viable resource, and I hate to waste resources. Another option I'm considering is having some Legionnaires transport the remaining black powder up to the Wall. When the Others come south, the Night's Watch could use it to repel them."
"That would definitely benefit a great many people, and not just the Watch," Daliah said approvingly.
Gregor nodded. Then he remarked "In any case, I plan to get the powder out of Moat Cailin as soon as possible. After what transpired in the Knowledge Tower, I have deemed it an unacceptable hazard."
A wise choice. Daliah certainly would never have allowed something so volatile onto the grounds of Clegane's Keep.
"If all the black powder in the world is kept in a guarded storeroom, how could that disaster have even happened?" she wondered aloud.
"I managed to determine that much, at least," Gregor notified her, "When I confirmed that black powder was the cause of the explosion, I went straight to the Smelting Tower. All twenty black powder kegs were accounted for. Even so, I decided to examine their contents. After sifting through the powder for a couple hours, I discovered that the mixture was impure."
"Impure how?"
"Apparently, someone had taken a handful or two of black powder from each keg and replaced it with dirt," Gregor revealed, "Altogether, that's enough to fill another whole keg."
"Then the black powder that caused that explosion came from your own stash?" Daliah realized in horror.
"It would seem so," Gregor grimly confirmed, "It gets even worse than that. Before I emptied the kegs, I weighed them. I found that each one weighed exactly the same as it did when I last inspected them, down to the last gram. That means whoever stole the missing black powder was in the storeroom long enough to determine exactly how much of it he took, and exactly how much dirt he needed to switch it with."
"That must've taken hours," Daliah conjectured.
"Quite so," Gregor concurred, "Therefore, the thief must have been someone with unrestricted access to the storeroom. Alas, I cannot even speculate as to who that might be. In addition to being guarded at all times, the door to that storeroom is always locked. Only two people have a key: myself and Maester Kennick, and the maester has an alibi. He was in the Recruit Tower tending to some injuries when the attack took place."
"What about the guards?" Daliah hypothesized, "Perhaps they know something."
"I had the very same thought," Gregor revealed, "That is my next step. I plan to interrogate every man who guarded the storeroom in the last year. Unfortunately, that will be something of a chore. At least fifty men have taken on that duty. Most of those were voluntary, and I did not keep a record of who stood guard on which nights. In addition to that, some of those men went with Dacey or the Martells."
"Then this inquiry might last until they get back," Daliah thought aloud.
"Oh, I intend to complete it a lot sooner than that," Gregor asserted, "I will not have my wife coming home to discover there's a murderer hiding amongst us."
"I wish you luck then," Daliah commented. There came a short interval of quietness, and then she said "Tell me, Gregor. What happened at Clegane's Keep and what happened at Moat Cailin… do you suppose these attacks are connected?"
"Honestly, I don't," Gregor admitted, "There is no denying that Connin was trying to murder Sandor. However, I was not the target of the explosion in the Knowledge Tower. Samwell Tarly and I have both concluded that the printing press was the target."
"Yes, I believe you mentioned that," Daliah recounted, "I am a little bewildered, though. Why would someone want to destroy your creation?"
"Oh, I can think of severeal reasons why," Gregor disclosed, "Mainly, someone in the world may wish to control the spread of knowledge. The printing press could be used to educate everyone in the realm, highborn and lowborn alike. But I'd wager that half the lords in the Seven Kingdoms would prefer to keep the smallfolk uninformed and ignorant. Some of them I know would resort to extreme means to do so."
"Like who?" Daliah questioned.
"I am compiling a list of prospective suspects," Gregor told her, "But I will not make any accusations until I have proof. If I did, I could sully the name of an innocent man or damage my own reputation. So, for the sake of security and stability, I will not show this list to anyone. Including you, Mother."
"I understand," she assured him. That would be for the best. I doubt I could be very helpful in this regard, anyway.
Lady Daliah and her son sat in silence for about a minute. Finally, Daliah removed the blanket from her shoulders and stood up. She pronounced "Well, I believe I have kept you from your work long enough. I think I will call it a night."
"You sure, Mother?" asked Gregor.
"Quite," Daliah affirmed, "I wish you luck with your investigations. I have every confidence that you'll succeed."
Gregor smiled again and rose to his feet. He led his mother to the door and gently kissed her on the forehead. He told her "Good night, Mother. I will see you in the morn."
Lady Daliah Clegane swiftly left her son's bedchamber and retired to her own.
This time when she laid down in her bed, she fell asleep straightaway. She remained on her back until daybreak. She slept more serenely that night than she had in a long while. If only that sensation could apply to my waking hours, as well.
Naturally, it did not. When Daliah Clegane rose from her bed the following morning, the burden of her family's tribulations was thrust upon her mind once more. There was no avoiding it; its addressing was inevitable. Thankfully, Daliah was no stranger to hardship. I know we'll overcome all this turmoil. We will because we must.
Gregor wasted no time in delving into business matters. After breakfast, he assembled Daliah and a number of other people in his solar. The others were Tyta, Jaqen H'ghar, Ser Bronn, Gerion Lannister, Tormund Giantsbane, Polliver, and a plump young Reachman named Samwell Tarly.
Once they were all present, Gregor locked the door to his solar and shut the windows. Polliver then went around to look for cracks or holes in the walls, and he found none. After ensuring that the area was secured, Gregor had them all gather around his desk. Daliah, Tyta, Jaqen H'ghar, and Samwell sat down in chairs. Bronn, Gerion Lannister, Polliver, and Tormund Giantsbane remained on their feet.
Daliah noticed Samwell inched his chair away from Jaqen H'ghar's, and he kept glimpsing at the Essosi out of the corner of his eye. It was as though he was wary of him for some reason. That struck her as curious.
After Gregor was seated in his own chair, he looked to Daliah and Tyta, and he told them "Firstly, Mother, Tyta, I want you to know that I am comforted by your presence. With so many of my family, friends, and allies currently away from Moat Cailin, having you here provides some much-needed solace."
Daliah was touched. Tyta must have been, as well, given how she placed a hand over her heart.
In public, Gregor Clegane was a rigid, stern, and authoritative leader of men and women. Even so, he had no issue with displaying affection towards his loved ones behind closed doors. This was a side of him that only those close to him ever saw.
Nonetheless, even when he showed his sentimental side, he was still the Mountain That Rides. That became evident a moment later, when Gregor folded his arms and firmly pronounced "Alas, as much as I wish you were only here for a family visit, we all know that is not why I asked you to come here. No, it is a much more ominous chain of events that brought the people in this room together."
Yes, it took a mercenary trying to kill your brother and niece to get us here. "Do you have any idea what the Golden Company was hoping to accomplish at the keep?"
"Still nothing but conjecture at this point, Mother," Gregor admitted, "We've come up with several plausible theories, but we've no hard evidence to substantiate any of them."
"Our strongest theory is that the Golden Company was simply endeavoring to gain Lord Gregor's notice," Samwell Tarly revealed.
"'Simply?'" Daliah snapped, a little more sharply than she intended "They 'simply' tried to assassinate my other son?"
"That is not what I meant to imply, my lady," Samwell Tarly stated nervously, "What I meant was they were trying to achieve a simple directive by committing a grave act. These days, gaining the notice of Gregor Clegane is something any criminal or misanthrope can do. Since he is a very busy man, he usually sends the Legion's soldiers to resolve most minor conflicts for him, and he only involves himself in the most serious disputes. Thus, someone who hopes to keep the Mountain's notice – particularly someone who is not even in the Seven Kingdoms – would have to do something that personally affects Lord Gregor."
"And while I make an honest effort to avoid letting any of my affairs get personal, I find I cannot make an exception for my kin," Gregor remarked, "The Golden Company must have realized this, and that is why they targeted Sandor."
"They tried to murder Father just to get your attention?" Tyta mumbled heatedly.
"While we cannot confirm that, it is our most reasonable explanation," said Gerion Lannister.
"Why would the Golden Company even want to get your attention?" Daliah enquired.
"To show that they are not afraid to make an enemy of the Mountain," Gregor hypothesized, "The Golden Company was in one of my recurring visions. Unlike all the others, this vision had two different endings. One was of them roaming haplessly throughout the Nine Free Cities. The other was of them invading the eastern shores of the Seven Kingdoms. Up until a fortnight ago, I had no way of knowing which ending was the true one."
"What happened a fortnight ago?" Ser Bronn queried. That's his first question? Granted, it is a legitimate query, but there are other, more pressing questions that should be addressed, too.
All the same, Gregor supplied a response. He illuminated "As you may know, at the start of the year, three separate companies jointly composed of royal army soldiers and Legionnaires were dispatched to the lands beyond the Narrow Sea. One, led by Prince Oberyn Martell, was sent to recruit anyone who would be willing to join us in the fight against the Others. Another, led by my lady wife Dacey, was sent to bring Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen back here. The third, led by Princess Elia Martell, was sent to seek out the Golden Company."
"Why didn't you lead any of those parties, Uncle?" Tyta said inquiringly. Now that is a good question.
"I am under strict orders from the King not to leave Westeros," Gregor claimed, "According to him, with the Long Night only a couple years away, I am too valuable for the realm to lose at this time."
Considering all you have done for the Seven Kingdoms since you rose to the rank of lord, I am not surprised. Of course, to me, you are too valuable to lose at all.
"Have you heard back from them?" asked Daliah Clegane.
"Yes, and each of them has had a different amount of success," Tormund Giantsbane gruffly remarked.
"Thus far, Prince Oberyn is the one who has had the most," Ser Gerion contended, "His last missive came in two days ago. He has already managed to acquire the services of two sellsword companies, and he is in the process of negotiating for a third."
"I guess my grandfather really does know how to get on the good side of people," Tyta wittily observed.
"It would appear so," Daliah stated bluntly. So do you, my dear. You definitely get that from your mother, who must've gotten it from the Red Viper. She then said to no one in particular "Go on."
"Dacey managed to make contact with the Targaryens and win them over," Gregor professed, "She even managed to secure an alliance with a Dothraki horselord. Alas, for that very reason, her party's return has been indeterminately delayed. It could be months before we hear from her again."
Unfortunate. I was hoping to see my daughter-by-law soon. If I remember rightly, my own daughter went with her. That meant that whenever Dacey and her sons came back to Westeros, Ellyn and her son Duncan would, too.
"What of Princess Elia?" Tyta queried. She sounded concerned. Then again, the woman was her great aunt. So, it was only natural that she would be.
"Lately, the Golden Company has been inexplicably elusive," Samwell Tarly explained, "Luckily for us, one of the Triarchs of Volantis managed to point Princess Elia in the right direction. In fact, three of the Triarch's grandchildren joined up with her party."
"Is this what happened a fortnight ago?" Bronn presumed. Gregor still has not answered his original question. He seems determined to get an answer.
"That is part of it," Gregor responded, "Let us go back to the two versions of my vision of the Golden Company for a moment. Apart from the ending, there is one notable detail that distinguishes them from each other. In the one that ended in invasion, the Company rallies behind a young man. This young man called himself Aegon Targaryen."
Daliah was dumbfounded. How is that even possible?
"He is an imposter," Gregor firmly asserted, "You can take my word for that. I saved the real Aegon Targaryen during the Sack of King's Landing, and I helped him and his siblings disappear."
"Then you really did keep Rhaegar's children hidden from danger all these years?" Daliah assumed. She could still vividly recall what happened on the first day of the year. Every house in the Seven Kingdoms, including Clegane's Keep, had received a decree from King's Landing. Upon reading it, Daliah Clegane – and almost every other person in the realm, she was certain – had been flabbergasted by the news it contained. For the longest time, I doubted the truth of that decree. Now that I hear it from Gregor's mouth…
"The idea was the King's," Gregor claimed, "But it was I who made it possible. I shamelessly admit that Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jaehaerys Targaryen are all alive because of my ingenuity."
Daliah scoffed. Not the humblest of declarations, but humility did not get him where he is now. Aside from that, Gregor said nothing that was not true.
"I'm still amazed you managed to shelter them for so long," Ser Bronn commented.
"Oh, I am quite resourceful," said Gregor, "I also made sure that only a select few even knew of their existence. I kept the circle restricted to people who absolutely needed to know. That number gradually increased overtime, but excluding myself, Polliver is the only person in the entire moat who knew the truth from the beginning."
Daliah turned to the tall man with the black beard and asked "Is that so?"
"It is, milady," Polliver affirmed, "I was there at the Tower of Joy, when Lyanna Stark gave birth to her husband's third child. I was also there when she died and entrusted her son's safety to her brother Lord Eddard and to Lord Gregor."
That was a rather blunt and direct answer, but then again, Polliver had never been one for subtlety. Still, his second statement did not sound as earnest as the first one. She could not say why, though. Maybe I am just being needlessly suspicious.
"Incidentally, that same boy served as my squire for the last five years," Gregor added in.
"Yes, you mentioned him once," Daliah commented, "You referred to him as Jon Snow. I assume that is not his real name?"
Gregor nodded and stated "He was passed off as a bastard for his protection. So was Aegon. Rhaenys took shelter in the swamps of the Neck with Lord Howland Reed's family. Shee always knew the truth of her identity, but her brothers did not know until recently."
"Other than myself, neither did anyone else in this room," Polliver murmured.
"We are straying from our original topic once again," Bronn irately interjected, "For the first time, I ask you, m'lord; what happened a fortnight ago?"
Why does he care so much? Or maybe he doesn't, and he just wants to appease his curiosity.
Fortunately for Ser Bronn, the Mountain answered his question this time. He expounded "A fortnight ago, I learned which ending of the Golden Company vision was the authentic ending. Princess Elia Martell informed me that Triarch Maegyr's grandchildren had told her of man and a boy who were travelling with the Golden Company. Other than the hair, the man's description matches that of the exiled Jon Connington, and the boy's description matches that of the false Aegon Targaryen in my vision."
He paused for a moment to allow that revelation to sink in. Then he muttered "That is enough to confirm the Company's intentions. They plan to invade the Seven Kingdoms That brings us back to our top theory on the attempt on Sandor's life. We believe that would have been the Company's way of telling me they are not afraid of what they face once they land on our shores."
"Principally, they may have been saying 'Prepare for Legionnaires all you'd like, Mountain. We'll be ready for them,'" Tormund Giantsbane refuted. That is a bold message. And an unsettling one.
"While I can see how you'd be led to think so, the Legion is not the only fighting force in the realm," Bronn contended.
"No, but it is the most diverse and resourceful," Gerion Lannister countered, "It has also upheld law and order throughout all of Westeros, and it enforces the peace between the Free Folk and the natives of the Seven Kingdoms."
"The Golden Company would be fools to invade, anyway," Polliver argued, "Altogether, there are enough soldiers in the realm to outnumber them at least twenty times over."
"Yes, but a large number of those soldiers are in Essos right now," Gregor pointed out, "That includes half of the Legion. While those units are away, the realm is not as secure. Therefore, this would be the most ideal time for the Golden Company to move against us."
"Do you think they'll invade us soon, Uncle?" Tyta asked anxiously.
"No, my dear," Gregor promptly replied, "We would definitely have heard from your aunt, your great aunt, or your grandfather if the Golden Company had already set sail. If our intelligence on them is accurate, the Company hasn't been anywhere with a harbor in almost four months. So, for now, we're safe."
Tyta breathed a sigh of relief. Lady Daliah breathed one, as well. On top of all our other problems, we do not need an incursion.
"At least, I see no reason to assume otherwise," Gregor uttered after a bit of silence. He looked to Jaqen H'ghar and said enquiringly "What do you think? Are we safe?"
Jaqen H'ghar seemed a trifle bewildered. "A man is not certain what a lord is asking,"
Gregor smirked and remarked "There is no more need for us to continue this charade, Jaqen. I know who you are. What you are."
Daliah was starting to feel a little nervous. What does he mean 'what' Jaqen H'ghar is?
Jaqen H'ghar asked rhetorically "Would a lord care to say what a man is?"
"Yes, perhaps a lord – I mean, you, could enlighten us, Gregor?" Ser Gerion suggested.
Tyta giggled at that. Jaqen's dialect really catches on, doesn't it?
At any rate, Gregor leaned forward and revealed "Jaqen H'ghar is a Faceless Man."
Ser Bronn and Ser Gerion bristled slightly, and Samwell flashed another cautious glance at Jaqen H'ghar. Polliver, Tormund, and Tyta looked confused. Daliah shared their confusion; she had never heard of a man with no face.
"A what, milord?" Polliver enquired.
"Quite simply, he is an assassin," Gregor professed. Suddenly, Samwell Tarly's wariness made total sense to Daliah. She was likewise overcome with uneasiness. She even felt the urge to scream. Before she could, Gregor continued with "He is no ordinary one, though. He and those like him possess the ability to change their appearance at will."
"Not entirely at will," Jaqen corrected him, "Only the appearances a man has collected."
"Oh, I'm aware of that," Gregor asserted, grinning wickedly, "Thank you for voluntarily confirming that fact about yourself."
For a split-second, Jaqen H'ghar seemed displeased and impressed. Then his normally stoic expression returned and he confessed "It is true. A man is what a lord claims a man to be."
Daliah did not bother to note how the others reacted to this news. She herself was practically in shock to hear it. We have been harboring a killer at Clegane's Keep for the last several months.
"It's always the quiet ones," Bronn commented drily.
Polliver gripped his spear in both hands and stepped closer to the Essosi. He proposed "Shall we arrest him, milord?"
"If not, we should at least clap him in irons," Gerion Lannister suggested, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword.
"Neither action will be necessary," Gregor assured the others, "This man is our guest. He had done no wrong that I know of. In fact, it is quite possible that he has done us a fine service."
"What service would that be?" Tormund enquired.
Instead of answering right away, Gregor turned to the youngest person in the room. He stated patiently "Tyta, do you remember when you caught Connin in your father's office?"
"I could never forget it, Uncle," she murmured uneasily.
"I am deeply sorry you had to go through that," Gregor muttered sincerely "Being in that kind of peril must have been terrifying. Moreover, it could not have been easy for you to kill a man, especially at such a young age."
"I am glad Connin's dead," Tyta proclaimed, "But I didn't want to kill him."
"You had no choice," Gregor debated, "You were just defending yourself."
Daliah noticed that Tyta looked down and gazed off to the side when she heard that statement. Gregor seemed intrigued by her reaction. He almost looked as though he had expected it. He said "You were just defending yourself, right?"
Tyta continued staring at the wall for a few seconds. Finally, she turned back to Gregor and admitted "Well… no. He was on the ground when I finished him."
"So, you wounded him first?" Gregor supposed. Again, all Tyta gave him was silence at first. After ten seconds of this, Gregor asked her "Tyta, did you really defeat Connin all on your own, or did you have some assistance?"
In response, Tyta looked over at Jaqen H'ghar, as though she was looking to him for advice. As it happened, the next words he spoke were "A girl may tell the actual tale."
Tyta let out a small sigh, and she lowered the sleeve of her dress a bit to expose her scar. She announced "Connin gave me this during our spar. It could have been much worse. He almost killed me, but Jaqen H'ghar stopped him."
Everyone but Gregor was visibly astonished. Gregor just smiled and remarked "I thought as much."
"Why are you only telling us this now, Tyta?" Daliah asked her granddaughter, trying not to sound too cross with her.
"Jaqen asked me not to say anything," the young girl answered.
"A girl speaks true," the Essosi declared, "A man did not wish to draw attention. If a girl's father and mother had learned what a man had done for a girl, a girl's father and mother would not have let a man be."
That is true. Sandor and Obara would have Jaqen H'ghar commended if they learned of this.
"So, you were the one who killed Connin?" Daliah supposed hopefully. If so, Tyta's hands are clean.
"No, a man only wounded a late man," Jaqen H'ghar revealed, "A girl was still the one who made the kill."
"Jaqen insisted that I do it," Tyta claimed.
Daliah was appalled. She glared at the foreigner and spat "You forced her to kill him?"
"A man did not use force," Jaqen H'ghar proclaimed, "A man gave a girl a choice."
"What choice?" Ser Gerion inquired.
"Connin was going to die soon, anyway," Tyta reminisced, "There was no way to avoid that. Jaqen told me I could either end his misery myself, or wait for Father to come and leave Connin to suffer his wrath."
Ser Bronn and Lady Daliah winced. They both knew how "wrathful" Sandor could be. Sandor would not have even bothered to question Connin. Once he saw Tyta's injury, he would have torn into him. Almost like a real hound.
"So, you killed him out of mercy?" Bronn assumed.
"Yes," Tyta responded, "He was a bad man, but I could not stand to see him suffer."
"It is alright, sweetling," Daliah told her granddaughter softly. It is not alright, but at least now we know Tyta did not kill Connin out of hatred. She turned to Jaqen H'ghar and proclaimed "I believe I owe you an apology, Jaqen. As well as a vote of thanks."
"A man requires neither," the Essosi reassured her, "A man only did what a man had to."
"'Had to?'" Tyta noted, "What do you mean? You didn't have to save me. You could have left me to Connin."
"Perhaps a man could have," Jaqen H'ghar debated, "Nonetheless, a man owed a favor to a lord."
"You owed Lord Sandor Clegane a favor?" Samwell Tarly remarked.
Jaqen H'ghar nodded his head and murmured "A man's life was forfeit when a man was taken by raiders. When a lord slew the raiders and rescued a man, a lord restored a man's life. The debt of a life was owed back to a lord. A man repaid a lord by saving the life of a lord's daughter."
A life for a life. That actually makes perfect sense. All the same, Daliah was grateful.
"Regardless of your motives, I'm certain we're all appreciative of your intervention," Ser Gerion Lannister observed. Daliah, Gregor, and a couple of the other men nodded their heads in agreement. "However, there is something else I'd like you to explain. What were you doing in the Westerlands?"
"Better yet, why are you in Westeros, in general?" Samwell Tarly muttered. He sounded more inquisitive than demanding.
"A man cannot reveal a man's mission," Jaqen H'ghar stated simply, "Even though a man's mission has already been completed."
Polliver stepped forward and angrily mumbled "Who did you kill?"
"No one a lord would not have sent a lord's soldiers after," Jaqen H'ghar claimed, looking to Gregor when he said that.
Maybe it was the leader of that group of bandits Sandor hunted down. Then again, the Hound and his soldiers had been the ones to end those outlaws. In any case, the victim was a criminal. For all we know, the Legion would have had to bring that party to justice eventually.
"Against my better judgement, I will take your word for it," Gregor Clegane decided. Jaqen seemed pleased.
Tormund then asked "If your mission was a success, why are you still here?"
"Once a man's mission was accomplished, a man intended to leave this land," Jaqen H'ghar expounded, "A man was captured before a man could book passage back across the sea."
"But you're a Faceless Man," Bronn pointed out, "I thought Faceless Men had ways of killing people through unnatural means. Couldn't you have used those means to escape your captors?"
"Only if a man could have done so without taking life," the Essosi elucidated, "That option was not available to a man, and a man cannot take life a man has not been told or ordered to take."
"Even when your own life is at risk?" Samwell Tarly disputed.
Jaqen H'ghar nodded and commented "A man does not fear death."
"That's why you refused to kill Connin," Daliah realized.
"A lady is correct," Jaqen verified. Who would have thought an assassin could be so principled?
Gregor then sat up in his chair, leaned forward, and stated "Alright, we have established that you came to the Seven Kingdoms on assignment. We have also established that you completed this assignment, and that when my brother rescued you, you were indebted to him. But now that you have repaid your debt to Sandor, there is nothing keeping you in Westeros here any longer. So, why haven't you gone back to Essos?"
Jaqen did not answer him straightaway. First, he slowly looked over at Tyta. She noticed him looking at her, and she gave a small, friendly smile. After that, Jaqen H'ghar turned back to Gregor and confessed "Because a man saw potential in a girl."
Gregor smirked and mumbled "I knew it."
"Knew what, Gregor?" Daliah asked her son.
Instead of answering that question, the Mountain looked around at the people before him and announced "I would like everyone but Tyta, Jaqen H'ghar, and my mother to step out for a moment."
Ser Bronn, Polliver, Samwell Tarly, Ser Gerion Lannister, and Tormund Giantsbane complied with this order, and they hastily vacated the solar.
Lady Daliah Clegane was then left alone with her son, her granddaughter, and a mysterious killer. I do not know why, but I feel I will dread what is coming.
"Gregor… what is going on?" Daliah whispered anxiously, "What did you know?"
"There is no easy way to tell you this, Mother," Gregor Clegane pronounced, "So I will be very forward: Jaqen H'ghar wishes to mentor Tyta."
"Mentor her in what?" Lady Daliah queried.
Gregor hesitated a moment before replying with "In the ways of the Faceless Men."
Daliah's heart skipped a beat. She breathed very quietly "What?"
"A man has seen a girl give the gift," Jaqen H'ghar disclosed, "With proper guidance, a girl can continue giving the gift to the others."
"What gift?" Tyta queried.
"Death," Gregor Clegane answered for the Essosi. "Valar morghulis."
"Indeed," Jaqen H'ghar affirmed, "Valar dohaeris."
Daliah Clegane did not know what was most disturbing: the fact that a man who had been a guest of her younger son for months turned out to be an assassin, how he was offering to teach her granddaughter to be like him, or how her other son seemed to approve of that concept.
In the end, the most disturbing aspect was none of those three things. It was what Tyta did next. She got up from her chair, knelt in front of Jaqen's, and declared "If you would have me, I would be honored to be your apprentice."
The last thing Lady Daliah Clegane saw before she fainted was Jaqen H'ghar and her son Gregor Clegane rushing to catch her.
Note: Originally, I was going to include a detailed scene where Gregor and Jaqen H'ghar convince Daliah to go along with the idea of Tyta learning how to be a Faceless Man. But this chapter turned out to be longer than I expected it to be, and there was no way I could have kept that conversation short. Realistically, that conversation might have had to have been a whole chapter on its own. I'm not going to cop out on that debate, though; I'll still reference it plenty in later chapters. At some point, I will address every possible argument Daliah could have made and every possible counterargument Gregor and Jaqen gave.
In any case, Tyta's going to Braavos soon. I know what some of you are going to tell me. Things like "Sandor and Obara are going to kick Gregor's ass when they find out he let their little girl become a stone-cold murderer." Maybe. But who's to say they'll find out? Aside from that, Sandor and Obara are not the typical highborn lord and lady pairing. They are more… open to certain ideas. Oh, and Tyta's plotline is NOT going to be a simple mirror of Arya's, I assure you. In fact, it will be critical to the resolution of at least two major story arcs.
