Patrek walked through the battlefield. There were dead bodies scattered everywhere. Some of them were men from the Riverlands, but most were men that wore the colours of Houses Spicer, Banefort, and Westerling. They were the three houses that had gathered to fight him here, beneath the walls of Castamere.
They had hit Banefort first, but found it nearly abandoned. Their lord had run when he heard that their army was approaching. The same had been true for the Crag. There had been a small force there, but it had fallen soon enough to the vanguard led by Brynden Tully. It had been a hollow victory.
The Crag was an old castle. It was the last bastion of a house that had fallen into debts and disrepute. Taking it had been no trouble for the Young Wolf during his war with the Lannisters, and it had been less of a problem for him, now that the entire surviving garrison had retreated to Castamere.
Not that it had served them very well.
The Westerlings had mostly been in the enemy vanguard here, under the command of Ser Samwell Spicer. They had been smashed by a combination of Brynden's vanguard, and the reserve of Lord Tytos Blackwood hitting them on the right flank, whilst the Spicer left was occupied by Olyvar Frey and his troops.
Patrek had personally led the right of his army, and had smashed them against the Banefort troops. He had killed more men than he had ever done before. Of course, he had seen war and battle before. He had killed where he had to, but these had been broken men.
They had been green boys that had never fought before, or old men who could barely hold their sword steady. He had killed them, not because he had to, but because he wanted to win. He wanted to save Edmure and save Jeyne, and because of that he had killed boys of no more than thirteen years. They were too young.
"Old stories claim that the Baneforts were descended from a necromancer, and that the Spicers have the blood of a witch in their veins. It makes you wonder how dark our houses are, doesn't it?"
He turned, and fount Tytos walking alongside him.
He was a tall and thin man, that others would call austere and cold, but Patrek knew that there was more to him than that. He had lost his son at the Red Wedding, and another two of his sons were missing. He had a right to want alone time.
"The Mallisters were fishermen of old. That's what my father told me, at least. We set up a lighthouse to commemorate a son who had died on the rocks of the coast, and then Seagard grew from there. No magic and no mystery."
"I'd tell you the history of my house, but there are so many stories that I'm not sure that I wouldn't be lying. We lived in the North of old, I know that much. We ruled half of what they now call the Wolfswood, but back then it was the Blackwood, from where we got our name. We bent the knee to House Stark when they named themselves Kings of Winter."
"Then my ancestors committed the crime of breaking guestright. We had had been part of a long and bloody feud with the Glovers, another house in the Blackwood. We invited the then Lord Glover to our castle, and then we murdered him and four of his sons. That was when we travelled south and made our home in Blackwood Vale."
Patrek looked to Tytos quizzically.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Tytos stared into the distance.
"I think it's very important that you be distracted after the first time you lead an army into battle. I understand how you must feel. I have been in your position before. It isn't an enjoyable one."
Patrek shook his head.
"I don't think you properly understand. When I go into that castle I'll have to decide on whether to execute Gawen Westerling and Rolph Spicer. Should I do it? Edmure said I had to. But-"
"But you think Westerling has done nothing wrong. He didn't help lure Robb Stark into the Twins. Rolph Spicer did. He deserves to die. I was robbed of being able to kill Walder Frey and Tywin Lannister. At least let me finish this one."
The two of them stopped and looked at each other. How silly he must seem, Patrek thought, to people like Tytos and Brynden, who had seen the world and lived through worse times than this. Tytos had lost a son. What had Patrek lost? His father was still alive, as were all his siblings.
"Rolph Spicer didn't kill Lucas, Tytos. I understand that you want justice for your son, but I can't allow you to use him to vent your anger."
Tytos was silent for a few seconds.
"Good decision, Ser Patrek. We will make a diplomat of you yet."
He started to walk away from Patrek, who watched him leave, but then Tytos turned.
"I believe Ser Brynden wanted to see you before you make your decision. He's already gone inside. You'll want to get in, too. Before the crows start to feast."
Then Blackwood was gone, towards what was left of the castle that had been Castamere.
It had been dry when they arrived, and was dry now. That disappointed him a bit. There was none of Tywin Lannister's rain. He had expected a bit more.
Most of Castamere's castle was built underground, and only a modest keep stood above ground. The mines were still blocked off, where Tywin had sealed them before, to drown all the members of House Reyne and Tarbeck that had taken refuge below.
They had drowned to death. Screamed as their children and their siblings went under the water, and all he had done was have a song written about it. He had been a monster. Hopefully some of them found peace when Tywin was killed. May he burn in the seven hells.
It should have been Tytos that got to kill Tywin, not the Imp. So many people had lost so much more to the lion of Lannister. Tytos would never truly get his justice, however.
He found Ser Brynden on the battlements of the wall that surrounded the keep. He was looking out at the battlefield from a distance. Had he been watching him talk with Tytos?
"War, boy. War is what mad tyrants bring down on their people. Aerys Targaryen and Robert Baratheon brought it on the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel. Daemon Blackfyre and Aegon the Unworthy. These men were all responsible for the deaths of thousands. My nephew is joining those people. We have to stop him and make him see sanity."
"Robb Stark-"
"Fought his war for justice. Joffrey Baratheon brought these wars on us. Him and Stannis Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy. Madmen and tyrants, don't you see?"
Patrek walked to the edge of the battlements, and looked out over the field of the dead.
"Edmure is hundreds of leagues away. He's at the Golden Tooth, sitting in comfort whilst we all fight his war for him. You want me to send a raven telling him that I think he's gone mad? He'd have any man in this castle arrest me and take my head, just like he wants me to do with Lords Westerling and Spicer."
"You're his friend, Patrek. He will listen to you more than anyone else. You must separate him from people like Jonos Bracken and Hugo Vance. They aren't good for his mindset."
Brynden was right, he knew that. This war was a folly. The Lannisters were weak now, but they wouldn't be forever, and lions had long memories, and they always paid their debts. What wrath would Edmure's lust for vengeance bring down on them all?
"When I next see him, we will talk about it, be assured of that. Right now I have other things to discuss. Send for the prisoners to be brought to the main hall. I want to see them. Get Olyvar and Tytos, too. We should probably have Benjen Bracken there, too, just so he doesn't complain, but that is all."
"As you say, Ser Patrek."
Brynden Tully left then, and Patrek made his way down from the battlements. He found Jeyne waiting for him below. She had been crying.
"Patrek-"
"I know what you're going to say, Jeyne. I know. Your father and uncle are innocent. Edmure is wrong to want them dead. Your uncle may have helped the Lannisters, but he was no key player. Your father- I'm certain he has committed no crime aside from supporting the wrong lord."
He walked on and past her, but she followed him, until they both stood before the doors to the keep of Castamere.
"You won't do it then? You'll spare them?"
"I'll talk with them and see what they say. I will not make any promises. My king has asked me to do this."
Jeyne shook her head.
"You shouted Robb's name, Ser Patrek. You shouted it. He was your king. He would never have done this. He wouldn't execute an innocent man for the crimes of others."
Patrek bowed his head. He hated what he had to say to her.
"Robb died, Jeyne. He died because of Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey. Your mother helped them. Your uncle helped her. If he dies then why is that not me giving Robb a little bit of justice? Does he not deserve that?"
"If you cared about fighting for Robb and his memory then you would have ridden north with your father and killed Lothar and Black Walder Frey. You rode west because you care more about following the orders of a madman."
Patrek turned away from her then, and pushed her away when she went towards him.
"We will talk again later. Not before. Wait for me, and I will bring you news."
He heard her sobbing again as he went into the hall. He found Olyvar, Tytos and Benjen already gathered. Then Brynden came up through a side door, accompanied by four Blackwood men and the three prisoners.
"Leave us."
The four men went as Brynden told them too, and the three prisoners sunk to their knees before him, a mere boy.
They were all grown men. Lord Spicer was a square man with greying hair. He looked tired and ill.
Lord Westerling was in better shape. He was clean shaven, with a round face and bland eyes. There was very little special about his appearance. He didn't look strong, and nor did he look clever. He had spent most of the war at Seagard, and Patrek had talked with him on occasion whilst there.
"Ser Patrek! I did not think it was you that attacked us! You remember me, do you not? I- We talked. I offered you my daughter's hand-"
"An offer that my father rejected, my lord, and then your daughter married a king, not a knight. I am not so glad that we meet again on these terms. Did you know that your wife conspired with Tywin Lannister to murder Robb Stark, my lord?"
Gawen looked perplexed.
"Sybell? Where is she? They told me she would be coming home with Prester? I was waiting-"
"And she never came back. Nor will she. Lady Sybell Spicer has been found guilty of conspiring with Tywin Lannister to organise the Red Wedding. She has been executed. I am sorry, to both you and her brother."
Patrek noticed that Gawen looked less sad than he did astounded. He was either a very good actor or his wife had never shared with him the details of her plans with Tywin. He had been a prisoner for most of the war, though, so that didn't surprise him.
It was Rolph that looked most wounded by the news.
"Sybell? You killed her? She- She was approached by Tywin. She couldn't say no. She couldn't. Do you know what he would have done to her or her family if she had? He would have buried us alive and drowned us like he did the Reynes, or worse. She had no choice."
Patrek ignored Lord Spicer's outburst and carried on.
"I can inform you, however, that both your daughters and your son, Rollam, have been spared, and two of them travel here with me. Rollam is a good boy. He is my squire."
"That is a relief. I have been worrying about the children most of all. Can I see them? Have they asked about me?"
Patrek hesitated then. Gawen wasn't making this easy for him.
"I have been ordered to take your heads, my lords. My king thinks that both of you were complicit in the Red Wedding. Tell me the truth. Were you?"
Gawen shook his head ferociously.
"I-"
Tytos stepped forward then.
"Answer honestly. My son died because of your lord and his alliance with the Freys. I am eager to see him avenged, even in a small way."
"I swear by the seven gods. I did not know anything about the Red Wedding, or what my wife was conspiring to do. I swear. I am innocent. That is the truth."
"And you, Lord Spicer?"
Rolph was staring at the floor, his whole body quivering.
"Did I conspire to murder your monster of a king? I didn't conspire. It was my idea. Sybell didn't know what to do. Tywin had written to us asking us to set up the Stark boy. It was my idea to use some of our grandmother's love potions on Jeyne. We knew the Stark boy would wed her if they slept together, and he did. It was he that killed your son, my lord. Not whichever Frey plunged a dagger in his heart."
Tytos almost went for him, but Olyvar and Brynden held him back. Patrek stepped forward.
"Ser Benjen, may I have your sword?"
Benjen Bracken pulled the sword from its sheath and handed it over to him. He walked to stand beside Rolph Spicer.
"Lord Rolph Spicer, you are found guilty of conspiring to mass murder, kingslaying, and working with the treacherous House Lannister. I am now forced to have to execute you for your crimes. Do you have any last words?"
Rolph looked up at him as he held the sword ready.
"I didn't kill your king. Your king killed himself, and all your dead friends, too. Edmure Tully will never-"
Then the sword cut through his neck. It was a clean blow, and Rolph Spicer's head rolled across the floor, his body slumped on the floor, blood flowing.
Patrek turned away, not wanting to look at what he had just done. He could see Tytos, though, and the gleam in his eye as he stared at the head.
"What about the other two, Ser Patrek?"
Patrek took a few seconds to register that question, and then he looked at Olyvar. It took him even longer to respond.
"Ser Benjen. Take some of your men and escort these prisoners to Seagard, back along the way we came. Once you have handed them over there then you should ride to the Golden Tooth and report of the death of Rolph Spicer to our king. Do you understand?"
He bowed his head slightly, and left the room. Patrek crossed the pool of blood that had gathered on the floor. He knelt down next to Lord Westerling.
"I am going to trust that you knew nothing about what happened, my lord. I spare your life today, and you owe me a blood debt. Begone. I wish to be alone. All of you leave!"
They left, and shortly after a few men stepped in to clean up Spicer's body and blood. Patrek stared at it as he was taken away. He had done that. He had ended that man's life before he had even had the chance to stop speaking. What had he become? Was he becoming as bad as Edmure?
He seated himself on one of the steps that led up to the high seat of Castamere. It was uncomfortable but comfort wasn't something that he deserved.
"Patrek?"
He looked up then, to his right. Jeyne was there. How long had she been watching him? Had she seen him kill her uncle?
"I saw my father, Patrek, before Ser Benjen took him away. Thank you for sparing his life. Was he innocent?"
"I believe he was. Your uncle-"
She stepped closer and sat down next to him.
"Ser Brynden already explained to me. He worked with my mother to kill Robb. You killed him for that, as you should have done. Robb was my first love. I am glad you think some justice has been found for him."
"I- I killed him, Jeyne. He was your kin and I killed him. I didn't even let him finish his last words. What have I become?"
She ran her hand through his hair, and he felt tears spill out of his own eyes as she touched him. What must she think of him now?
"I forgive you, Patrek. My uncle was a bad man. He says that he gave me potions to love Robb, but I don't think that is true. I loved Robb because he was kind and brave. He loved me, too. My uncle can say whatever he wants, but our love for each other was real."
"How can love survive in this world? Everything else dies."
Jeyne put her arm around his shoulders then, and rested her head on his shoulder.
"My father told me a story once. It was about a dragon prince who loved someone that he shouldn't. He married her, and they loved each other for many years, even though he abandoned his throne and his castle for her."
"What happened to them?"
"They died in a fire. Father never told me that part, though. He always used to tell me that they lived happily ever after. I only found out about the real ending when Raynald told me after an argument. I cried for hours. It seems silly now. I miss him."
She took his hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you"
"For what?"
"Sparing my father."
He looked at her.
"You already thanked me for that."
"I know."
She whispered into his ear, and then they were kissing. Their lips were locked together, and their cheeks pressed against each other, both wet from tears.
For a few seconds, Patrek forgot about everything.
