The Mercy of Others
"Lord Snow, the wind has died down." The captain said.
Jon nodded and Maturin Manderly walked away, leaving him on the rail alone with his thoughts. The riverboat was becalmed on the blue and green waters of the Gods Eye. To the South, he could see a faint trace of the island, as if the heart trees refused to let him go. Magic was strong on the Isle of Faces and it was more than just the children.
He played the words of Daemon Targaryen back in his head. Most prophecies were worth less than wind - the babbling of fools, charlatans and hucksters. Daemon was none of those, and his words had been blunt and forthright. He did not hide behind mummery when he declared that Jon would die in victory near the Gods Eye. The Rogue Prince committed many crimes in his wild and reckless adventures, but he had never been accused of lying.
Jaehaerys the Old King had lived a long and mostly happy life, dying a few moons short of his seventieth name day. He was the great exception. Most Targaryen princes died young. Daemon Targaryen had lived longer than most, dying at forty nine. Jon wondered what his namesake would have said to a witch or warlock predicting his death when he was young. He would have laughed or cursed, Jon thought - probably both. Prophecies were faithless creatures, likely to stab you in the back or kick in your head at the worst moment. Prince Daemon would not allow himself to be slain easily. He would defy his enemies and sell his life dearly. So will I, Jon thought. He did not care about the ravings of red priests or visions of dead dragon princes. What did it matter if he was Azor Ahai or the third head of the dragon? I will destroy my enemies. I will keep House Stark safe. The ancient Valyrians had known the truth of the world. All men must die, but first all men must serve.
Jon listened with Arya while his brother Robb recounted Ser Garlan's offer. Arya had heard the tale already. The Tyrells wanted an alliance with the Starks and the Lannisters. The play was bold but greedy. Jon wondered how Joffrey would react to Sansa as his good sister.
"A marriage of Sansa into House Tyrell means we would be honor bound to intervene in any dispute between the Reach and the Lannisters." Jon said.
"We are not likely to support Joffrey in anything." Robb said.
"Not supporting Joffrey does not mean fighting for the Tyrells. We would be embroiled in disputes over the Iron Throne between the roses and the lions." Jon said.
"Do you think Joffrey would pick a fight with the Tyrells? He needs their swords." Robb said.
"Joffrey was betrothed to Sansa. Our father was Hand and Joffrey ordered his head cut off. Mace Tyrell is now Hand. Lady Margaery should not trust Joffrey's mercy." Jon said.
"There is another thing. Arya, tell us what you saw again." Robb said.
"I saw our Lady mother walking with Baelish near the Hall of a Thousand Hearths. He said that Tyrion would be the undisputed heir of Casterly Rock if Ser Jaime died. Baelish said the Imp might stop any exchange, and that he might rape Sansa, or have his guards do so." Arya said.
"His guards?" Jon asked in surprise. "What exactly did Baelish say? His exact words."
Arya screwed up her face in thought. "He said Tyrion had been married once, and grew bored of his wife. He gave her to his father's guards, a hundred of them in one day, and watched. Baelish thought - no he said that Lord Tywin knew but was disgusted with Tyrion for his lust."
Jon pulled his hands in fists under his chin. "Baelish is lying. I know the true tale. Tyrion was married when he was young - to a smallfolk girl. His father found out and had her raped as a whore by dozens of men. He forced Tyrion to watch, and his son never looked for the girl again."
"Lannisters. What a disgusting family." Robb said.
"That may be true, but there is a more immediate question to ask. Why is Baelish lying? Why is he trying to convince Lady Stark that the dwarf means to harm Sansa?" Jon said.
"My mother arrested Tyrion once already. She clearly doesn't trust the imp." Robb said.
"That explains why the lie works on Lady Catelyn, but it does not explain why Baelish would lie. His lie about the Valyrian steel dagger caused great trouble. Why is he accusing the dwarf about Sansa…. Wait - you have told her that Baelish is a liar?" Jon said.
Robb sighed. "She does not listen. The Tullys have always been stubborn. She grew up with him at Riverrun. I have told her not to speak with him but she says that Baelish is still fond of her. And that we can get no other news from King's Landing. She is frightened for Sansa."
"He is a creepy old man. And Nymeria dislikes him. We should kill him." Arya said with an angry outburst.
"Arya, we can't." Robb said shocked. "He has guest right at Harrenhal. And he came under a peace banner."
"The dire wolves have better senses than we do, but Littlefinger has left the castle already. Why is Baelish saying that Tyrion wants to keep Sansa in King's Landing?" Jon said.
"He wants the Imp to take the blame. They are going to keep Sansa and break their promises." Arya said.
"Fucking Lannisters." Robb said. Grey Wind growled angrily by his side.
"I think Arya is right. But who are they? Who will keep Sansa prisoner? And why?" Jon said.
"Isn't it obvious? We defeated Tywin at the Red Fork three weeks ago. The Tyrell army was five hundred miles away. Each week, they can over seventy miles. Martyn Rivers says scouts from the Reach have been seen near Blackwater Rush. And their men are already at King's Landing. If they continue marching, they will cross into the Riverlands. In a few more weeks, they will be at the southern tip of the Gods Eye and less than a hundred miles from Harrenhal." Robb said.
"Do you think the Tyrells mean to betray us?" Arya said.
"That is the problem. We don't know. But Robb is right. Every day, their men draw closer. And an army does not march five hundred miles for peace. We cannot harry their forces because that would start a war. But if they refuse to hand over Sansa…" Jon said.
"I will not leave the Riverlands without our sister. I will not allow her to be tormented further." Robb said.
"We don't know who is plotting to stop the peace. It might be Tyrion Lannister. It could be Tywin. It might even be some of the Tyrells. Even if Ser Garlan is friendly, he may not make the decisions. The Reachmen may be hungry for battle to prove themselves to the Throne. Or perhaps Joffrey or Cersei wish to keep Sansa prisoner." Jon said.
"Can't we do anything?" Arya complained.
Jon shook his head. "This is the fog of war, sister. If you want speed and force, you cannot have precision and certainty. It is hard to know the true strength and position of your enemies, or even who your enemies are."
"That is why it is better to attack. In every battle so far, the North has been on the offense, so we can determine the battleground. But now, we may have to defend. I prefer to attack.' Robb said.
"But isn't Harrenhal a strong castle? Can't we defend it against the Reach?" Arya said.
"Harrenhal has strong walls but allowing your enemy to trap you is not good strategy. We would lose our supply lines and be unable to defend the smallfolk. I do not wish to be sieged for many moons. I will not sit here while they pillage the Riverlands again." Robb said.
"It is better to defend than attack, sister. But it is best to attack with surprise. We can hope for the best, but expect the worst. The Reachmen believe their army is far stronger than ours. But any army can be beaten. We need to prepare for war." Jon said.
The light rains sweeping over the city did not bother Tyrion. For once, King's Landing did not stink of sour wine, horse piss, and nightsoil. Wagons of wheat, barley and apples arrived every day, the largesse of the Reach. Merchants, attracted by the high prices, sailed cogs into the harbour and drove caravans through the seven gates. Tyrion had countermanded Littlefinger's entrance tax. The desperation to seek shelter behind the city walls had faded, and the city needed to restart commerce.
King's Landing celebrated the tidings of the peace talks at Harrenhal. Even begging brothers stopped proclaiming that the city would be destroyed by the vicious Northmen. At Cobbler's Square and Flea Bottom, Tyrion was no longer called a freak who beguiled the wretched Joffrey into dastardly deeds. Joffrey was wretched and his nephew needed no help to be a villain. Tyrion pretended not to care about the words of others but no one enjoyed being called a twisted little demon monkey, not even by simpletons or smallfolk.
He sat down for his breakfast - porridge, honey, milk and crisp fried fish. The saltiness of the finger fish contrasted wonderfully with the sweetness of the honeyed porridge. All he needed for a complete meal was spiced wine, mulled with honey, cinnamon bark, cloves and crushed cardamon pods. Tyrion poured the milk over the oat porridge when Bronn ushered in his tired squire, fresh from the kingsroad.
"Ah, Podrick, come join me." Tyrion declared. "How was Harrenhal? I imagine the Starks treated you more gently than our debacle at Riverrun."
The skinny boy flushed a bit but managed not to stutter. "Pardon, my lord. I never managed to get into Harrenhal. Lord Tarly ordered most of us to stay outside the castle. Very few squires, only those directly serving the envoys, entered the Hall."
Tyrion took a bite of fish. "So you were unable to deliver the letter."
"No, my lord." Podrick took off the small piece of parchment sewn into his belt. "Lord Baelish watched everyone, even the squires, closely. I slept with the letter in my tent and stayed away from Baelish and his guards."
"A pity that you didn't learn anything new." Tyrion said.
"I did, my lord. I managed to speak to Josmyn Peckledon. He is Ser Addam Marbrand's new squire - the old one was killed at the Red Fork. He was in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths and saw the Young Wolf and the Bloody Wolf at the negotiations." Podrick squeaked.
Tyrion had met Androw Peckledon, a minor knight with a small keep near Lannisport. "And did this squire have anything interesting to say?"
"Peck was surprised - the Northerners were not the wild savages he expected. He said that Robb Stark was noble and honorable, and that Jon Snow was not a raving monster." Pod said.
"We knew that already. They spared our lives at Riverrun in the hope of peace." Tyrion said.
"There is more, my Lord. Peck found out from the squires of the Riverlords how Harrenhal fell. The Brave Companions betrayed House Lannister and captured Lorch and the Westermen. Snow promised that none of his men would harm him, but Hoat had tortured many prisoners. Snow had Ser Herrock of Kenning beat the Goat half dead and then hung on a cross to die."
Clever, Tyrion thought. Snow had not violated his oath. "And did Ser Herrock join the Goat on the gallows?" Tyrion said.
"No, my Lord. Peck was very surprised. The White Wolf treated Ser Herrock with great respect. He was allowed to return to Kayce and his wounds were tended."
"Without a ransom?" Tyrion raised his eyebrows. His squire nodded. That was odd. The Bloody Wolf was not known as a generous enemy. "Wait, what happened to Lorch?"
"Who, my Lord?" Pod said.
"Ser Amory Lorch. My Lord Father left him as Castellan at Harrenhal." Tyrion said.
"I don't know. Maybe the Brave Companions killed him. There was no sign of him at Harrenhal or in the Hanging Forest. " Pod said.
A growing sense of unease ruined Tyrion's breakfast. "Pod, did Peckledon think the North was to be trusted?"
"Peck says the rivermen believe the Starks honorable but that if angered, would wreak bloody havoc. They fear Jon Snow more than Robb Stark." Pod said. Tyrion thought that Peck's assessment was accurate. He would not like to be dragged before the wolves again.
Tyrion entered the Red Keep, Bronn and several other handpicked sellswords trailing. The inner yards bristled with dozens of new faces, hundreds of new gold cloaks drafted from the Crownlands. Only Sandor Clegane was familiar. The newest member of the kingsguard refused to be knighted or change his battered grey plate, making a mockery of the White Cloaks. He sat with Varys and opposite Pycelle at the First Small Council meeting since the talks with the North. Baelish walked into the room with Joffrey.
"Well? Why hasn't the meeting begun?" Joffrey asked as he took his seat.
"Your grace, we must wait for the Reachmen. Mace Tyrell, Mathis Rowan, and Paxter Redwyne have yet to arrive." Tyrion said.
"That just shows your lack of knowledge, uncle!" Joffrey spat.
"Mace Tyrell rode this morning to Tumbler's Falls to meet the main host. He believes that Lord Tarly and Ser Garlan require his sage advice. Paxter Redwyne is with the royal fleet, preparing an attack on Stannis at Dragonstone. And Mathis Rowan." Baelish chuckled. "His daughter was caught in bed with a minstrel last night who fled the inn. I offered my men to find the raper so Lord Rowan can send him to the Wall."
None of the Reachmen were present, and Littlefinger smirked. This meeting clearly would not be about planning the royal wedding. Tyrion looked about for a pitcher of wine.
"Lord Baelish, I congratulate you on your dealings with those savages from the North. For that, you will be named Lord of Harrenhal and Lord Paramount of the Trident." Joffrey commanded.
"But the Throne has promised that no titles or lands be stripped from the Rivermen." Tyrion said.
Joffrey waved the objection away. "And what happens when the Northern army retreats? No one respects this new Lord Tully."
"The honor is greater than I deserve, your grace, but I must recount a troubling observation. After our negotiations concluded, Robb Stark stormed off like a petulant boy. But only a moment later, Ser Garlan followed him to converse in secret." Baelish said, feigning concern.
"So?" Joffrey said.
"But your grace.." Baelish said. .
"Lord Baelish, did you overhear their conversation?" Tyrion said.
"No, Lord Hand. They conversed in secret." Baelish said.
"Then, the talk might be nothing. We know that Robb Stark travelled to Bitterbridge. The Lords of the Reach did not give him any aid then. Why would that change now?" Tyrion said.
"My little birds say that Ser Garlan struck up a friendship with Lord Stark when he visited the Reach and the Stormlands. Perhaps he thanked him for saving his goodbrother, Renly, from the shadow assassin before he sadly passed." Varys tittered.
"Who cares what Ser Garlan said to Robb Stark? The wolves leave after the exchange of my uncle Ser Jaime. Good riddance." Joffrey said.
"But your grace, what if they don't leave?" Baelish said smoothly. "What if they stay? They are only a few days from King's Landing. Without Sansa Stark, they might ride down the kingsroad. If the city gates are opened to them, there could be another sack."
Joffrey turned a ghastly white. He clenched the arms of his chair tightly. "Do you think Ser Garlan means to betray me? Should I put his head on a spike on the Royal Gate?"
"No, no." Baelish rushed to assure him. "Ser Garlan is valiant and true, and your future good brother. I mean Robb Stark and this cruel Jon Snow are evil men who might see your mercy as an opportunity. You must guard yourself against their faithlessness. They may find traitors willing to betray you, my king."
Littlefinger did not need to stab others in the back, Tyrion decided. The Master of Coin was skilled in open deceit. "Baelish, these are wild accusations. What proof do you have? You did not hear what Ser Garlan said. The North has agreed to peace. The Tyrells are allied with the Iron Throne. You have invented a conspiracy out of thin air."
"I agree, your grace. There are no ravens flying from King's Landing to Harrenhal or Riverrun." Pycelle said. "My apprentices keep careful watch."
Joffrey relaxed. "I want the heads of any traitors. No one can threaten me - no one. I want to be alerted of any plots, any hints of treason, any sign of Northern treachery." He stormed off, Sandor Clegane guarding his back.
Tyrion glared at Littlefinger. "What are you playing at, Baelish? Why set Joffrey against the Tyrells?"
"I defended Ser Garlan." Baelish retorted. "Surely, you do not trust the Starks. They still want revenge against Joffrey. What is the saying? The North Remembers."
"Who could forget? Joffrey's first action was to chop off the head of the Hand and the Warden of the North. No wonder he is known as the Good King Joffrey." Varys said.
Baelish stood up, a smirk on his sly face. "My Lords, I go to the Eyrie this night, to woo Lady Lysa Arryn for the Iron Throne. I am sure you will be doing your duty to his grace by organizing the royal wedding. Enjoy planning the fifty dishes with Lady Olenna."
As Littlefinger sauntered out, Tyrion wondered what had just happened. Baelish obviously planned the seduction of Lord Rowan's daughter to remove any Reachmen from this meeting of the Small Council. But if he was leaving King's Landing, then what did the Master of Coin have to gain by fueling Joffrey's paranoia? Tyrion realized that he had missed something in the play. He hated that feeling.
When the war horn blew, Arya scrambled from the smithy to the steps of the Tower of Dread. No army approached from the East or the West. The South was quiet, with a few riverboats docked on the shore of the Gods Eye. The cloud of dust came from the North, and Arya could see horses and armored men riding on the road. Even this far away, she could see the sky blue on saddles, helmets and shields : the colors of the Vale.
"The numbers are too few to be the Knights, Cat." Ser Brynden Tully said to her mother. The Blackfish stood with Lady Stark, Lord Edmure and Lady Whent, ready to receive their visitors. Robb waited behind, his honor guard at his side.
"They are not bearing any banners." Jon said quietly.
Her brother was right. Arya could see sigils on sleeves and tabards- a red castle on a white field, a black broken wheel on green, five silver arrows pointing up, a yellow burning tower - but none of the riders carried banners. A man in red rune marked armor hailed Robb.
"Lord Stark, I bring men from the Vale who would fight with you." the man said.
"I thank you, Ser Robar." Robb said warmly
"Allow me to introduce some of our best knights. Ser Mychel Redfort. Ser Roland Waynwood, and Ser Elbert Bellmore." Robar said. They were quite young, not more than a few years older than her brother Robb. Arya wondered if they had been knighted recently.
More riders on destriers entered the yard. The Vale men were all mounted, with no footmen or archers. There were a few wagons, and Arya was surprised when Hot Pie grinned at her from the top of a cart pulled by two mules.
"Ser Robar, did my sister give you leave to join us?" Catelyn Stark asked.
"Lady Arryn forbid any of us from leaving the Vale. But Roland's uncle is now the Knight of the Bloody Gate, and he would not imprison us." Robar said.
"Our fathers would fight with Ned Stark but they cannot disobey House Arryn. We are mostly second and third sons." The knight with the broken wheel said.
"You are a first son, Ser Roland, but your father is Heir to Ironoaks, and your grandmother Lady Anya. Do your houses know that you have come?" Brynden Tully asked shrewdly. Ser Robar nodded, as did several other companions.
"How many are you?" Robb asked.
"Seven hundred." Ser Robar said.
"So few?" Edmure Tully grumbled. The Lords of the Vale could field an army greater than twenty thousand. Seven hundred was smaller than the forces of a single Northern bannerman. Even one remote mountain clan could provide more men.
Robb stepped forth and quieted the disappointed murmur in the crowd. "You are welcome, Sers. The North thanks you for remembering my father Lord Stark's ties to the Vale. Join us for meat and mead. You are the guests of House Stark at Harrenhal."
Arya escaped the hustle and bustle by hiding in the armory. While servants at the castle prepared for the feast, Jon took inventory of the newly forged armor. Her brother decided that gauntlets and vambraces would be too cumbersome given the weight of the long pike. Each pikeman was issued a thick breastplate, cut open at the shoulders, tassets to protect the upper thighs, and a sturdy helmet. The helmet looked like a wide brimmed farmer's hat, only in steel. Padded linings held by rivets made the helm more comfortable and allowed for steel ear flaps or cheek plates. The deep bowl absorbed missile fire and the wide turned down brim would protect from a sword slash to the head.
Soldiers, Winter Town boys and smallfolk rushed about, relaying Jon's orders to the noisy and full smithy. Arya knew that she should be doing the same. But if her Lady mother saw her, she would be dragged off to be bathed, scrubbed, and forced into a gown. She wanted to go to dinner as a squire, bearing Needle, not a marriage prize. Her gold and crimson brigandine was better than any dress.
The door opened, and a knight from the Vale walked through. He wore a red castle on a white field within a red embattled border over his mail shirt. He was young, with a serious look but mild eyes. He hesitated for a moment and then spoke. "Are you Lord Snow?"
"I am, Ser." Jon said. Her brother put away the high combed helmet.
"I would be glad to speak to you, my Lord. May I be granted a private audience?" he said.
Jon nodded, and the smallfolk and the Winter Town boys rushed out. Arya stayed, her hand on Needle, and her eyes firmly on the knight. "Arya Stark is my squire and my heir. She has my complete trust." Jon said.
The man nodded. "Lord Snow, my name is…."
"Ser Mychel Redfort. You are Lord Horton Redfort's fourth son by his third wife, Lady Edwina Tollett." Jon said.
The knight's eyes bulged in surprise. "But how did you know? Can you read minds?"
Jon shrugged and pointed to the large leather book on top of the shelf. "Hardly. That is the History of the Greater and the Lesser Houses. After Ser Robar's introduction, I looked up your name, as well as Roland Waynwood and Elbert Bellmore."
The knight nodded. "I have come to ask a great favor - that you might intercede for me with your brother, Lord Stark. I would pledge my sword to him but I hoped he might grant me a small keep in the North."
Jon raised his eyebrows. "Why ask me, Ser? Why not speak to Robb directly?"
"Lord Stark is rather busy. He is always surrounded by Northmen and Rivermen - and I thought you might look favorably on my reasons." Ser Mychel soldiered on. "There is a girl I love. I would marry her if I had my own lands."
"Your father rules a rich house. Why does he not…" Jon stopped for a moment. "He does not approve of your marriage."
"He wished me to marry Ser Robar's sister. Ysilla and I are friendly but I love Mya Stone."
"A bastard?" Arya asked in surprise.
"Clearly, by the name and Lord Redfort's disapproval. Who is Mya Stone?" Jon asked.
"The king's bastard. Robert Baratheon was fostered in the Vale. He fathered her on some commoner and then promptly forgot. I was squired at the Eyrie and met her there." Mychel said.
"And you want to make her your lady?" Jon said.
"Mya, a lady!" Ser Mychel laughed out loud. "She curses more than me. She would rather wear leather than a dress. All I wish is a small holdfast and a few villages, so we could stay together. You are a bastard too. You know the cloud that hangs over Mya."
"I am no matchmaker, Ser. Does the girl care for you as well?" Jon said.
"She gave herself to me." Ser Mychel said. "And I to her."
"What does that mean?" Arya asked aloud.
"It means Ser Mychel does not wish to dishonor her. Very well. I will speak to Robb." Jon said.
"Thank you, my Lord." Ser Mychel said gratefully. Her brother nodded and turned back to the armor for the pikemen.
For a giant castle, there was no place for a knight to swear his fealty. There were too many watchers in Flowstone Yard or the Barracks Hall. Lady Whent was preparing the Hall of a Hundred Hearths for a banquet. The sept in front of the Tower of Ghosts had been ruined by dragonfire and not used for three hundred years. Finally. Robb decided on the entrance to the godswood, but far away from the heart tree.
Ser Mychel knelt, with the sword pointed down to the leaf infested ground."I offer my services, Lord Stark. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for you and yours. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."
Robb took the hilt and laid the blade on Mychel's shoulder. "I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."
A dozen guests attended the ceremony. Robb and Jon, the Blackfish, the Greatjon and several Northern heirs, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Roland Waynwood. The two knights were happy for Ser Mychel, although it meant he would not return to the Vale. Arya knew that Bran and Rickon would one day swear an oath to Robb when he granted them a keep. She bit her lip and wondered if one day, she would hold lands for either of her brothers. Arya was still thinking about that possibility when they rounded the corner near the armory.
She barely avoided Gendry, who was carrying half a dozen steel breastplates from the smithy. Ser Mychel looked at the blacksmith in shock, and stopped in mid step. "You are her brother." the stunned Valeman said.
"Pardon, my Lord?" Gendry asked.
"My betrothed. You look just like her." Mychel said. "Tall, broad, thick black hair, and blue eyes."
"I do not have a sister." Gendry said.
"You have one in the Vale. And I will be your good brother soon." Mychel said.
"I am a bastard from King's Landing." a puzzled Gendry asked.
Jon stepped forward. "Ser Mychel intends to marry Mya Stone. Her father was Robert Baratheon. Gendry, you are the son of the King." In shock, Gender dropped the armor, and the breastplates crashed onto the ground.
"How can we be certain about this Gendry? Mychel Redfort may be mistaken." Catelyn Stark said. Robb had retired to the Tower of the Dread to investigate the matter further. The solar had seen better days but it was spacious enough for the Tullys, Starks and a few retainers.
"Gendry is right here, Mother." Arya said. She sat with her friend who was still stunned by the revelations.
"Ser Mychel seems certain." Robb said.
"Lady Stark, I had not realized that before but Ser Mychel speaks the truth. The boy looks like a young Renly, and everyone says that Renly was the very image of Robert. His jaw is squarer and his brows bushier. The boy's hair is dirty but it is the same coal black…." Brienne said.
"We don't need to rely on guesswork. Arya and Gendry were attacked by gold cloaks and Lannister soldiers on the Kingsroad. Arya thought they were searching for her, but they were hunting for Gendry. Now we know why." Jon said.
"When they captured us, Lorch demanded that we hand Gendry over. Lommy was already dead so I told him that was Gendry's body." Arya said.
"But what does it matter then? The Lannisters think he is dead." Edmure Tully said.
A dozen men had heard Ser Mychel's words, and most were not in the solar. Arya was not paranoid by nature but news of Gendry's identity would spread quickly.
"Gendry is a clear threat to the Iron Throne. The Lannisters will try to kill him again." Jon said.
"But why? I am just a blacksmith's apprentice from Flea Bottom." Gendry burst out.
"Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were sired by the Kingslayer. They are not stags. Robert and Renly are dead. Stannis has only a daughter, tried to kill his brother, and worships a fire god. You may have the best claim to House Baratheon." Jon said,
"Not just House Baratheon, but the Iron Throne." Robb said.
"I am just a smith. All I know is the forge. I can't even read." Gendry said, panicked.
That was true, Arya thought. Gendry was happiest polishing helmets and beating on swords with hammers. He liked the idea of ruling over smallfolk as much as she did.
"We should send him away." Catelyn said. "The Lannisters will be angered by his presence."
"My father, Lord Stark, would not allow his friend's son to be murdered by the Lannisters and neither will I. Gendry, the North will protect you." Robb said.
Arya elbowed Gendry in the ribs and hissed. "Say something, stupid."
"I am thankful…... I don't know nothing about being a lord, my lord." Gendry stammered.
"The boy will need guards. And we must know where he is at every moment." Catelyn said.
Before Arya could complain, Jon nodded to Gendry. "It is for your safety. They will find out who you are. Tell Lucan and Ben Blackthumb that you work for me directly now."
"Yes, my Lord." Gendry said. "Can I continue in the smithy?"
"Aye, but stay close to my Winter Town boys. Pretend that nothing has happened at the feast. The news will come out soon enough. No need to hurry." Jon said.
After the banquet, Arya sought out Jon. He had left the meal early, exiting after the dish of roasted squabs in a creamy mushroom sauce. Gendry was still dazed, incapable of more than eating, drinking and uttering a few words. Through the meal, many eyes looked at the blacksmith with great curiosity - lords, knights, and ladies. Even Hot Pie had asked as he served a loaf of freshly baked dire wolf bread. Now that Arya was revealed as a Stark, and Gendry was Baratheon, Hot Pie wondered if he too was a long lost noble - perhaps an Arryn or a Tyrell. Arya doubted that very much.
Arya heard the voices of her two brothers behind the solar door.. The three dire wolves guarded the entrance, and she stepped in.
"They already know about Gendry." Arya declared.
"Who are they?" Robb asked.
"My friend, Hot Pie. He was helping out in the kitchens." Arya said.
"His dire wolf bread is very good. The Heddles sent him from the Inn at the Crossroads to guide the Valemen to Harrenhal." Robb said.
"What will happen to Gendry? Will you make him into a lord?" Arya said.
"Robb is not a king, and only kings can legitimize a bastard." Jon said.
"Even if he was Gendry Baratheon, it would not get us men. Gendry has never been south of King's Landing. Black hair and blue eyes are not enough, and any Stormlanders would have to travel past the Tyrell army to make it to the Riverlands." Robb said.
"I am more worried about something else." Jon said. "Who knew about Gendry at King's Landing?"
"What do you mean?" Robb asked.
"Gendry was apprenticed to Tobho Mott. The name is Qohorik and they are known to be skilled blacksmiths. Who paid his commission? And then who betrayed him to the Lannisters? How would they know that Gendry was Robert's bastard?" Jon said.
"Gendry was Robert Baratheon's issue but the king was always drunk. It would be the Hand that would take care of such matters." Robb said.
"Of course, and Jon Arryn likely knew about Gendry. But Jon Arryn died. And it is possible that Lord Stark knew but then he died. Neither Jon Arryn nor Ned Stark would have told the Lannisters. How would they know who Robert's bastards were? He was rumored to have more than a dozen." Jon said.
"What if there were records or letters somewhere? That might prove that Gendry is Robert Baratheon's son." Arya said.
"Excellent, sister. Someone has those records, and gave them to …" Jon thought aloud. "Did that person tell Cersei or Joffrey?"
"Why not Tywin? Or another Lannister?" Robb said.
Jon shook his head. "Tywin and Jaime were fighting in the Riverlands. Tyrion was either at the Eyrie or travelling to Lannister forces. Joffrey had just become king. Perhaps to curry favor, someone told Joffrey who Robert's true heirs were. Gendry was forced to leave King's Landing to go to the Wall. Someone also informed his master."
"But it can't be the same person. Why would you tell Joffrey and warn Gendry?" Arya said.
"The better question is who would warn Gendry. Feeding Joffrey information makes you valuable to the throne. But why would they warn Gendry's master ? It could not be any of his uncles - if they cared, they would have men take him directly to Dragonstone or Storm's End." Jon pursed his lips in deep thought. "I have a guess who told Joffrey, but I do not know who spoke to Tobho Mott."
"Who told Joffrey?" Robb asked.
"The most likely person is Baelish. He worked for Jon Arryn. As Master of Coin, he handled payments the Crown made to the king's bastards. Robert was a whoremonger and a drunk. Baelish owned brothels. That connection is obvious. But I do not know who arranged for Gendry's departure from King's Landing. Someone is working against the Lannisters. Or at least for Joffrey." Jon said.
"They may not care for the North either. Just because they want to spare Gendry, does not mean they will make a trustworthy ally." Robb said.
"You are suspicious, Robb. That is good. It will give us a better chance of survival." Jon said.
"You are worried about Joffrey's plots?" Arya said.
"Joffrey is not the plotter. He is being played by others - but we do not know who. The war will not end until all of us, including Sansa, are safe back in the North." Jon said.
Tyrion raised the fork of baked eggs to his mouth, pretended to chew, and then placed the food down, hidden by the untouched wine goblet. Varys gobbled the small goat cheese and potato tarts with gusto with delicate fingers, like a spider devouring hapless flies.
"If I were to poison you, it would not be with eggs." Varys giggled.
Creamy baked eggs with herbs and bacon had been one of Tyrion's favorite dishes at Casterly Rock. The dwarf sighed and ate. The food was delicious but he expected no less from at the mansion of the Master of Whispers. "I wanted to ask if you knew Baelish's whereabouts. Bronn saw one of his guards at a brothel. That seems strange if he left for the Vale."
"Petyr Baelish enjoys confusing his enemies. The Merling King waits at the docks to take him to Gulltown but our new Lord Paramount lingers outside King's Landing, waiting. He enjoys his plots, our Littlefinger - just like you." Varys tittered.
Tyrion raised his fork to object. "Me? I am innocent as a newborn babe."
"My little birds say Podrick Payne left the city through the Lion Gate in Lannister colors, to your father's camp. Strange though, how he changed his attire, and rode on the Rosby Road. Now what business could young Pod have going East?" Varys said.
"Podrick likes hunting for shellfish in Blazewater Bay. Now that the fishing boats know about wildfire, crabs and clams are scarce in Fishmonger Square." Tyrion retorted.
"Come, my Lord Hand. What mission did you send Podrick on? Is he on some bold quest - to prove himself a knight?" Varys said.
"I dispatched my squire with a letter to the Westerlands. For my service, my lord Father would reward me with a betrothal. Who knows? It might be Lady Lefford - she is suitable for a dwarf now that she has been despoiled in the capture of the Tooth." Tyrion said. "A pretty little lie. Perhaps you are the second most devious person in the Seven Kingdoms and not Littlefinger. Is your squire sending a raven to the Tooth, Riverrun or Harrenhal?" Varys asked. There was no mirth in the eunuch's dark eyes when Tyrion shrugged in response. "I have spies at the Golden Tooth and Riverrun - and my little birds roam freely now at Harrenhal. Curious, isn't it? Besides the Goat's men, and a boy who lost his hand, the prisoners have been unharmed. This Jon Snow has a bloody reputation but secretly, he is a lamb."
Tyrion snorted. "I do not think he will bleat for you. If the North takes King's Landing, Joffrey's head will decorate a pike. The Starks will kill anyone involved with Ned Stark's death."
"Then it is good that the North is returning North." Varys said.
"Are they?" Tyrion asked in a doubtful tone. "Littlefinger is up to something. He is inciting Joffrey against the Northerners."
"The Gods only know what game Littlefinger is playing." Varys said.
"I sent Podrick to Duskendale so he could send a raven that Lady Sansa is safe, and unharmed. Enough blood has been shed in the Riverlands." Tyrion said.
"So that was your squire's mission? You believe the realm needs peace. A noble sentiment, but the storm has not passed yet."
"What do you know, Varys?" Tyrion's eyes narrowed.
"Who ordered the massacre of the royal bastards?" Varys said.
"Joffrey. My nephew's first act was to command the city watch to kill Robert's bastards. A baby girl on her mother's teat at Chataya's. Young boys in Flea Bottom. Another babe killed by gold cloaks in a tavern. I thought it was my sweet sister but even she is not vicious enough to kill babes, less than a year old, in front of a crowd." Tyrion said.
"Robert Baratheon had sixteen bastards, but only two that matter. Edric Storm who Stannis Baratheon captured at Storm's End. But there was another, a boy older than both Edric and Joffrey. I removed him from harm's way, out of King's Landing. He has resurfaced."
Tyrion had the sinking feeling of impending doom. "And where is this bastard now?"
"Gendry Waters is at Harrenhal and under heavy guard. Robb Stark and Jon Snow know that he has a real claim to House Baratheon and the Iron Throne. If the North throw their support behind this Gendry.." Varys said.
Tyrion groaned. All the more reason to settle quickly with the North. The last thing House Lannister needed was another Baratheon pretender to the Throne.
The banner of the black she bear waved proudly as the soldiers, half mounted and half on foot, marched through the gatehouse that afternoon. On the road from the Tooth, new recruits had joined the Mormonts - curious smallfolk, hedge knights, garrisons of abandoned holdfasts and deserters hoping for new liege lords. At the van, a laughing Dacey rode with Lyra and Jory and the three Mormont sisters gossiped as they entered Harrenhal. Jon waved a greeting but he waited for the wagon, pulled by a team of mules, to swing into view.
Two dozen Tully men and even more Mormonts guarded the humble cart, driven by an ornery old dwarf experienced in transporting prisoners to the Wall or a hanging. Thick metal chains hung from the sides with the ends of extra manacles buried under fresh straw. Jon gave orders for the captive treated well, but no cleaning could remove the smell of piss soaked wood. Locks of golden hair stood out against the drab pale yellow straw and brown tunic. Jaime Lannister flashed a carefree smile and stretched his long arms in a cat-like yawn. The Tully guards grumbled at the Kingslayer's arrogance but Jon motioned for the wagon to be unlocked.
"Snow. Are a thousand men not enough to guard me? Do you need the entire army and Harrenhal?" The Lannister knight smirked.
"Ser Jaime. Have you been treated fairly? They gave you food and drink on the trip down from Riverrun?" Jon asked.
"Hardtack, barley mush, moldy cheese and water. I ate about as well as I did at Winterfell."
"You are a prisoner. You will have to wait until King's Landing for your feast." Jon's nose wrinkled. "Although you certainly could use a bath. The bathhouse here only has one exit, so you would not need a guard."
"You are lucky to be treated so well, Kingslayer. If I had my choice, you would be locked away in the dungeons like the false knight you are." Ser Robin Ryger ranted.
"False knights sleep on feather beds in King's Landing, Ser. And no one cares what you or the floppy fish think." Jaime snapped back. He stood up straight, unchained and proud.
Jon dismissed the Tully men, trusting in Ghost, as they walked into the great Hall. "Making friends wherever you go, Ser Jaime?" he asked.
The Lion of Lannister chuckled. "When am I to be released, Snow? I have had enough of surly Rivermen. And Mormont ladies threatening my manhood with a spiked mace."
"We have had enough of arrogant lions." Jorelle said. She only came up to the top of Jaime's chin but the fierce Mormont girl had no fear of the Kingslayer.
"We will send a raven to the Iron Throne tonight. King's Landing is three hundred miles away. When they bring Sansa to Harrenhal, we will release you to the Lannister forces. The quicker that happens, the better. When the North leaves the Riverlands, your uncle Kevan and the other highborns at the Golden Tooth and Riverrun will be freed. I see no reason why this should take longer than a moon." Jon said.
"And do you expect to get more ransoms for the prisoners?" Jaime asked.
"No, so long as the Lannisters keep their promises. My brother wants an end to the suffering in the Riverlands. That, and my sister, is the price for your freedom." Jon replied.
The Kingslayer nodded. "What will you do after the war, Snow?"
"I would have returned to the Citadel but that is not possible now. I will go back to Winterfell with Robb. After we destroy the ironborn raiders, I will travel around the North. See the Wall, visit Greywater Watch, and spend a few moons at Bear Island." Jon said.
"Just a few moons? I doubt you will leave my bed so quickly." Jory said with a toothy smile.
"One day, I promise to stay at Bear Island and build a fleet great enough to put fear into the Ironborn. But that must wait until the war ends." Jon said.
"But why then…." Jaime looked at the men drilling in the yards with pikes, lances and swords, and the smallfolk working on the ballista. Smoke billowed from the chimneys of the smithy, and hammers clanged at twenty forges. The young knights from the Vale with their skill and speed at mounted battle while the pikemen marched forward and backward to the beat of drums.
"We are ready for a battle that I hope never comes. If you want peace, prepare for war. The Stark have survived eight thousand winters because we are strong, not weak." Jon said.
"I will be glad when you are back North, Snow." Jaime japed.
"As will I." Jory said as she took Jon's arm, and pulled him close.
Jon Snow looked at the raven that had arrived that night. He wondered whether the message was a clever trap to lull House Stark into complacency. King's Landing was full of deceitful players, who hid treachery under a pretense of friendship. Could the dwarf truly be trusted? Perhaps this was a lie spread by one of his rivals, a false trail meant to sow misinformation. Still, his brother and sister needed to hear about this, and soon.
They met at an abandoned granary in the Wailing Tower. No one had stayed in the haunted upper stories since Lady Lothston descended into madness and jumped to her death. Robb's guards stood outside, but Jon and Arya brought Ghost and Nymeria only. Jon handed over the letter to his surprised brother and sister.
"Are we certain this is from Tyrion Lannister?" Robb asked.
"The letter claims to be sent on his orders from Duskendale. He would have done so to avoid spies in King's Landing. But whether these are his words or a trick by someone else, it is hard to say. There must be some truth to these words." Jon said.
"Tyrion has Sansa in the Tower of the Hand but swears that is only for her safety. He has rescued Jeyne Poole from Baelish's brothel. The dwarf says that he is working to ensure the return of Sansa and Jeyne but he fears Baelish's plots." Robb said, reading the letter closely.
"Why would the Imp write? We can't send him a raven." Arya asked.
"The obvious message is that he desires his brother's safe return. But Tyrion is also warning us about Baelish. But I don't know what that means. The story that Baelish forced Jeyne Poole to work in his brothels - if we see Sansa again, she can confirm that tale. But whether Baelish is plotting against Tyrion or the North or the Throne…" Jon shrugged.
"I hate this Baelish. The letter makes me uneasy." Robb said.
"Of course it does." Arya said. "If the Imp is afraid for his brother, then something bad can happen to our sister."
"Joffrey had better not hurt her. The Lannisters promised that Sansa would be freed, and the Tyrells said they wanted her to marry Willas." Robb said.
"At Riverrun, Tyrion offered Ned Stark's safe return, but he was executed by Joffrey a few days later. All these plots and tricks - we do not know how to play these games." Jon said.
"Then what should we do?" Robb said.
"We need to stay with our strengths. King's Landing is full of liars - Lannisters, Littlefinger, perhaps the Tyrells. They are better at treachery than we are. Even if the letter is not a lie, then it speaks to Baelish's plots." Jon said.
"Gods. I hate all this. Fighting on the battlefield is far easier." Robb said.
"It is but we cannot afford to be beaten by treachery. Sansa is in danger in King's Landing, and until she leaves, we have to be ready for any betrayal." Jon said grimly.
From the battlement nearest the solar of the Hand, Tyrion watched King's Landing. The Myrish spyglass pointed toward the wharves near the River Gate where the Merling King lay docked. Many nights had passed but the galley remained tied up. Either Littlefinger had tricked Varys on his comings and goings or something sinister was afoot. A captain might stop for a few days, if his ship needed repairs. But nearly two sennights in a city with little trade - that made no sense.
When Podrick returned to the city, Tyrion tasked the boy with shadowing Baelish's retainers. Bronn's face was well known as his guard, and Shagga and the mountain men were brigands, not spies. Tyrion thought to ask Ser Jacelyn Bywater for help but Littlefinger had greased many palms in the City Watch. Pod was quiet and forgettable, but the boy found little. Lothor Brune enjoyed drinking and Kettleback whoring.
Podrick waved eagerly from the solar window, and Tyrion put down the spyglass to waddle back. Bronn followed, his hand on the pommel of his sword.
"Have you sighted Baelish at last?" Tyrion asked.
The squire nodded. "But not with his men. Peck called on me last night. Ser Marbrand was outside the city with Lord Tywin. Lord Baelish met your father."
"My father? But he is at Tumbler's Falls with the Reachmen. Why would he come back to King's Landing?" Tyrion squawked. His lord father ruled House Lannister with an iron fist, and did not pretend to care for any of his children's opinions.
"Peck does not know. When Lord Baelish came, all of the commanders were asked to leave the tent." Podrick said.
His father did not have many commanders left, Tyrion thought. The wolves had captured or killed most of the Lannister captains, besides Gregor Clegane and Addam Marbrand. But Ser Addam was quite trusted among the Westermen. What was Baelish hiding?
"Peck left with Ser Marbrand and your father to go West." Podrick said.
"But that does not tell us about Littlefinger. He is about as likely to lead an army as me. Where is Baelish now?" Tyrion said.
Bronn looked out the solar window. "Outside our door."A large group of men approached. Four wore the white cloak of the kingsguard but there was nearly a hundred more. Pycelle, Varys and Baelish followed Joffrey as they rode to the Tower of the Hand.
Tyrion groaned. Seeing his nephew was always a trial. And Joffrey called a meeting of the Small Council the day after Littlefinger met his father - that was no coincidence.
"Where is Sansa Stark?" Joffrey sneered.
Tyrion had more men in the Tower but few sellswords would dare attack a royal party. And the royal guards wore full plate and were heavily armed. Sandor Clegane's scarred face loomed large over Tyrion. The Hound was more dangerous than the three other Kingsguard.
Podrick Payne gently guided Lady Sansa through the door. The Stark girl greeted the king without fear, and gave a low graceful curtsy. Sansa Stark was a lovely girl and far better than Joffrey deserved. Then again, a whore with a pox was more worthy than his nephew.
"Lady Sansa is under the protection of the Hand." Tyrion said cooly.
"But your father has agreed to this. And Lord Tywin is Hand." Baelish said. Littlefinger's eyes glittered with open mockery and victory.
"Why are you in King's Landing, Lord Baelish? I thought you had left for the Vale to woo Lysa Arryn." Tyrion said.
"I received dark tidings that his grace needed to hear urgently. The Vale remains neutral but second and third sons have joined House Stark. There are knights from House Royce, Waynwood, Redfort, Belmore, and Egen who would fight with the wolves." Baelish said.
"And what has my Lord Father agreed to?" Tyrion said.
"Lady Sansa needs to remain a guest of the Iron Throne. The Starks pose too great of a danger. They have a Baratheon pretender in the Riverlands - a Gendry Waters born to some nameless whore in Flea Bottom." Baelish said.
"Robert had many bastards. Why does this one matter? Is he going to march an army of whores and urchins against the Red Keep? I suppose that strikes fear in your Kingsguard." Tyrion said. The comment angered Ser Meryn and Ser Boros but the Hound only smiled.
"You are a fool, Uncle." Joffrey shrieked. "What if they marry Sansa Stark to this bastard?"
"The bastard has no bannermen. In time, that may change, but the Starks have promised to return North. How would this Gendry raise men from the Stormlands? He is not Robert Baratheon. The men who rebelled against the dragons were great lords - not unknown bastards." Tyrion argued.
"Lord Tyrion has not seen this Gendry Waters. My little birds have. They say he is a fierce looking warrior - strong, burly, and that he carries a war hammer in battle." Varys said.
"Looking fierce does not mean he is fierce. And there won't be another battle of the Ruby Ford. Unless your grace intends to lead our men into the Trident." Tyrion said.
Joffrey exploded in anger. "You go too far, dwarf. My father was a fool to match me with a traitor's daughter. I will not have another Stark-Baratheon marriage to stir up my enemies. Sansa Stark will only leave King's Landing when her brothers are dead."
"What of the Tyrells? They wanted Sansa Stark given to them." Tyrion said.
"Your Lord Father has spoken with Lord Mace. The Tyrells do not want a marriage between a Baratheon bastard and Sansa Stark to threaten their Rose. Lord Tarly and the forces of the Reach are eager to prove themselves in battle, as brave men often are." Baelish said.
"And Ser Jaime? And the captives the North has taken?" Tyrion said.
"They can rot in the Riverlands. They failed me when they got captured. The king's men should win - not be beaten by Northern savages." Joffrey said. "I want their heads. This Gendry Waters. Robb Stark. Jon Snow."
Joffrey was more Aerys the Mad than Robert the Drunk. Tyrion wondered when his nephew's bouts of hysteria and sudden rages would become evident to the entire court. As soon as possible, he would leave King's Landing and his mess of a nephew for Mace Tyrell and his father. He looked at Sansa Stark. The girl refused to show weakness and Tyrion marvelled at her composure. He would do his best to protect her.
"Very well, but Sansa stays here, at the Tower of the Hand." Tyrion said. "We may still need to trade her to the North."
"The North will not matter once the Reach defeats them in battle." Baelish smiled. "And I believe Lady Sansa will be safer in Maegor's Holdfast, under the watchful eye of the king.
"No. The Crown cannot afford another Ned Stark." Before his nephew could rage, Tyrion offered a compromise. "His grace can send guards to the Tower of the Hand. They can watch over the Lady Sansa as well, but my Lord Father will not be pleased if she comes to harm."
"Your grace, I believe that to be a sensible solution. Lord Tywin only wants the best for the kingdom." Pycelle said.
Joffrey glared for a moment, and then turned to his white cloaks. "Dog, guard Sansa Stark. Make certain that you do not lose her." The Hound nodded, and the King stomped away.
Tyrion cursed silently. Baelish had played his cards well, and news of this Gendry would prevent any hope of peace. An unknown blacksmith with no name born from a whore in Flea Bottom. His idiot nephew might force the North to support the bastard that he feared.
Robb Stark waited on his mount as the riders came from South on the kingsroad under a white flag of parley. It had taken a week but the exchange would finally be made near the great walls of Harrenhal. The Northern lords, even Roose Bolton, assembled at his side, as did his Lady Mother and the Tullys. The Kingslayer was guarded by the three great dire wolves. No horse or man could outrun Grey Wind, Ghost and Nymeria.
His honor guards parted for Jon's horse. "There is no wagon." Jon whispered in his ear.
Robb's eyes narrowed. A half a dozen horses rode in front, and he could make out Ser Garlan and the odious Petyr Baelish. There was no sign of Sansa Stark, and no wheel house for a highborn lady. Behind him, Grey Wind snarled.
"Where is my sister?" Robb said, any pretense of goodwill gone.
Ser Garlan winced. "I am sorry, Lord Stark. But your sister remains at King's Landing."
"You promised her return. You have broken your word." Robb said bitterly.
"His grace refuses to allow her to leave. He fears Northern treachery against the Iron Throne. You have Vale men fighting on your side. You have a Baratheon pretender at Harrenhal. His grace Joffrey wishes to restore peace and justice to the Seven Kingdoms. He cannot allow any more plotting against the crown." Petyr Baelish said.
"What will happen to Sansa?" Catelyn Stark asked urgently.
"Lady Sansa will be a lady in waiting for Queen Margaery." Baelish said.
"She will be safe. My sister Margaery and my brother Loras will look after her." Garlan said.
"Sansa is a prisoner and a hostage." Robb's anger was obvious to all. "I will not leave the Riverlands until my sister Sansa is returned to me. My father would not abandon his daughters to the bastard on the Iron Throne, and neither will I."
"You have no choice, Lord Stark. We want the Westermen prisoners returned, Lord Stark, and your men to give up Harrenhal." Randyll Tarly said.
Robb laughed loudly. It was not a pleasant sound. "And why would the North do that?"
"You would leave the Riverlands alive. Our men have crossed Blackwater Rush. Thirty thousand from the Reach. Lord Tywin has ten thousand more. We have reinforcements ready at King's Landing and Highgarden. Even with the Rivermen and the Valemen, your army cannot be larger than twenty thousand. The Tyrell army is fresh and unblooded. Your forces are tired and have fought many battles. Our victory is certain." Tarly said.
"Nothing is certain in war. The North has been outnumbered before and won." Robb said.
"Against the Lannisters. Not the Reach." Tarly said.
"Be reasonable, Lord Stark. No one doubts the courage of your men or your skill at war. With the remains of the Lannister army, we have twice your men. I am sorry it has come to this but bend the knee and go home." Garlan said.
"In time, when cooler heads prevail, his grace may be more inclined to mercy when there are no threats to the throne. His grace would be pleased if you deliver the bastard Gendry back to King's Landing. It would be better for relations between the North and the Iron Throne and the Lady Sansa would be given more freedom. In time, if peace reigns, his grace might even let her return to Winterfell." Baelish said.
"And why would he do that?" Jon spoke up. Our army is two hundred miles away, and the king won't give back our sister, after we have defeated the Lannister forces. If we are two thousand miles away, Joffrey will not change his mind."
"His grace is young and will become wiser and kinder with time and marriage. King Joffrey will be more merciful to Lady Sansa after the North bends the knee." Baelish said.
"You cannot win this war. You might hole up in Harrenhal for many moons, but the Tyrell army will defeat you." Tarly blustered.
"The Tyrell army sieged Storm's End for a year in the Rebellion and failed to take the castle. They did not win the war." Jon said.
"Robb, perhaps we should speak further. There may be some way….." Lady Stark said.
"We have spoken enough." Robb turned and spoke to his lords. "Bind Ser Jaime. He will return to Riverrun." Robb turned again and spat on the ground. "This is what I think of your words. I will not let my sister remain a hostage to Joffrey the Illborn. The North will not bend the knee, or heed the promises of liars. House Stark does not rely on the mercy of others."
"Then, that means war." Ser Garlan said with regret.
"Aye. War is winter and winter is coming." Robb rode away with Jon Snow at his side.
Author's Notes
Daemon Targaryen was a scoundrel, a whoremonger, and a troublemaker who feuded with many others - House Hightower, the Triarchy, and his brother, the King - but he does not seem to have lied. He used deception in warfare but more in the manner of Sun Tzu.
I have compared Ancient Valyria to the Roman Republic before but the sayings of the Faceless Men are very much like the Romans. The Roman Republic had great courage and considerable dedication to the notion of public service. Of course, they also butchered cities, massacred their enemies, and played dirty in politics. From 100 BC to the start of the Roman Empire, the politics were much like Game of Thrones - you win or you die.
The fog of war is referred to many military writers but the term was coined by Clausewitz, the Prussian general. He writes "War is the realm of uncertainty; three quarters of the factors on which action in war is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty. A sensitive and discriminating judgment is called for; a skilled intelligence to scent out the truth."
Castles really declined as defenses for two reasons. The first is gunpowder and cannon/artillery strong enough to destroy walls. But the second is that the social structure changed due to guns. Infantry armed with guns dominated, and the mounted knight (the basic unit of feudal society) was toast. This means defending population centers and cities was the focus of new warfare. Robb and Jon may be anachronistic in caring for the plight of smallfolk. In the middle ages, the general philosophy was the invaders can't take the land, so once they exhaust themselves, we are still lord or baron. Nobody gave a crap about peasants.
The pikemen wear the armor of the Swiss mercenaries. Essentially, they needed armor only to protect themselves from missile fire. The wall of pikes would block arrows as well. It was quite difficult to attack the lower legs.
The History of the Greater and Lesser Houses is the book that Arya brings Tywin on the show after Lorch admits he can't read. It is a well written scene.
Betrayal is so common in GOT that the minor characters are treated as cannon fodder Catelyn meets Mya on the climb to the Eyrie and learns that Mya hopes that Mychel Redfort will marry her after being knighted. Catelyn of course knows that highborns, even fourth sons, do not marry bastards even if they took their maidenheads. This is contrasted to the nobility of Robb Stark who screws the North badly by falling for the whole Westerling garbage. Here, Ser Mychel is actually brave, unlike the supposed gallant swordsman in the books. If you read carefully, the Vale is full of sanctimonious hypocrites.
There is a really long paragraph in A Feast of Crows where Brienne meets Gendry, and goes off on this long description. It is like a passage out of a Harlequin romance.
In the books, the massacre of Robert's bastards are ordered by Cersei. In the TV show, it is hinted that Joffrey sends the orders. I think this is because it is easier for TV to focus on a sneering Joffrey than the interior monologue of Cersei. I actually think the TV works better because if Cersei was planning to kill the bastards, she would spend less time on babies and more on the real threat - Edric Storm, Mya Stone - than a whore's baby girl.
Gendry was happy polishing helmets and beating on swords with hammers. This is close to Arya's thoughts at the Peach when Bella, another Robby B bastard, offers to ring his bell.
Warning Gendry is actually quite odd, if you think about it. Varys is a shady character, focused on putting fake Aegon on the crown. What does he care if Gendry lives or dies? While it helps the narrative by giving Arya a companion, it doesn't make any sense - particularly since any link between Gendry and Varys is nonexistent for five books.
Some of the dialogue between Varys and Tyrion is taken from Book 1 of the Game of Thrones. Tyrion compares himself to a little lamb. Varys says to Ned Stark that Baelish is the second most devious man in Westeros. (which means Varys is first!) and Varys also says to Ilyrio Mopatis the gods only know what games Littlefinger is playing. That may be true, but Tyrion and Varys should be dedicating spies to find that out - not just twiddling their thumbs.
In A Storm of Swords, Sansa finally realizes, after the Purple Wedding, the extent of lying at the royal court. The irony is that her awakening comes only when it is far too late. She is being shipped off to the Eyrie and only realizes on the trip that she has been suckered by Littlefinger all along. The line - they're all liars and everyone better than you - come from Sansa's recollection of a talk with Sandor Clegane. Sansa is now Alayne Stone, so Sandor is now wrong. GRRM performs the best sleight of hand with the women. Arya transforms into a fearsome assassin while Sansa becomes Littlefinger II.
Baelish's play is predicated on his knowledge that Gendry is at Harrenhal. It is never explicitly stated but as the Master of the Coin, and a provider of whores and brothels, he knows the identity of the bastards. He "helps" in the investigation by bringing Ned Stark to see the whore and the youngest bastard girl - the one killed on her mother's teat. Baelish would have known about the older bastards. In the story, as he wanders about Harrenhal, trying to scare Catelyn on the dangers to Sansa, he sees Gendry. And the trap is fully set.
There certainly could have been more dialogue for Tyrion, or between Jaime and Jon. Even Gendry could have had a bigger role. You can really spend a lot of words fleshing out their responses. But the backdrop for the battle has already taken two chapters. At the end of the day, Joffrey was always a little shit - quick to anger, easy to push to violence. Baelish is an excellent manipulator and in the first three books, the best player of the Game of Thrones. For Baelish, this is the culmination of a decade of plotting - the service to Jon Arryn, the secrets uncovered as Master of Coin, and his manipulation of the other characters.