It took two weeks for the Redwyne fleet to make its way north from the Arbor, time during which the citizens of Lannisport held their collective breaths, daring to hope that soon they might be delivered from the barbarians infesting the city and occupying their homes. When sails were sighted on the fourteenth day, both groups let out a cheer; the Westermen joyous at their soon-to-be liberation, while the Northmen were just happy to be going home.
Arbor Queen led the way, Lord Paxter Redwyne's flagship cutting elegantly through the water as her crew worked the oars, at the head of a hundred war galleys bearing the purple grapes of House Redwyne upon their sails. Behind them came another four hundred smaller merchant ships, serving today as troop transports instead of their usual role; transporting Arbor Gold to the mainland for sale.
As the Northern Lords looked out with joy upon the approaching ships, many of the more knowledgeable lords shook their heads in concern, recognising this for the show of strength it was. Joffrey wanted to make the Crown's power crystal clear, and the message was doubly strengthened by the fact that this was only half of House Redwyne's power. An equal amount of galleys and traders remained at Lord Paxter's islands, guarding them should the Ironborn try anything foolish.
Even half the Redwyne fleet though, was still more than a match for the Iron Fleet and the ships were greeted with cheers and adulations as they docked inside Lannisport harbour. As Lord Paxter strode down the Queen's gangplank, purple and blue cloak swinging in the breeze, he glanced at the Northmen filling the city's streets in their hundreds and thousands and his lips pursed in worry. Transporting ten thousand men was not an easy thing, and nearly all the Redwyne ships had left the Arbor empty; or at least, manned only by their crew.
The space normally taken up by the Redwyne men who would guard the ships against boarders and fight when it came to land combat was needed to carry the Northmen, and Lord Paxter was well aware that if negotiations failed the Northmen could easily storm his ships and take them by force. Of course, most of them likely didn't know how to sail, but he was willing to wager more than a few of his crew would cooperate in exchange for their lives. Of course, that would also mean Joffrey commanding a full-scale invasion of the North, so Paxter himself needed to ensure he escaped as to raise the rest of his fleet.
To ensure he could avoid any potential trap, the Lord of the Arbor met the Northern lords at the foot of the gangplank, the few retainers he did have keeping their hands on the hilts of their swords in a clear sign of distrust. Should the rebels attempt anything, they would give their lives to defend him while he retreated aboard Arbor Queen and took her out of reach. Clearing his throat, Lord Paxter shifted uncomfortably in his finest armor, another precaution his men had insisted upon and unrolled the parchment bearing the King's terms.
The Northmen listened silently as he read out King Joffrey's terms of surrender; the same generous terms he had accepted from the Tullys weeks ago, and frowned, muttering amongst themselves as Paxter made it quite clear that the King's will was for any who still refused to kneel after this to be subdued by the loyal Northmen who had. Rickard Karstark gripped the hilt of his sword, and for a moment Paxter feared it would come to blows, but a bearded Northman bearing the mailed fist of Glover on his armor grasped the old lord's wrist.
"Not like this, Rickard" the man whose name Paxter couldn't recall at the moment urged, voice low. "Not right now". He jerked his head towards the banner of peace held by Paxter's guard, seven-coloured cloth blowing gently in the wind, and the grey-bearded Karstark slumped.
"You're right, Robett" Karstark conceded, and Paxter held back the urge to snap his fingers in realization as he discerned the man's identity; Robett Glover, new Master of Deepwood Motte after his brother's death in the recent fighting. "We aren't Tullys after all" Lord Rickard spat, and Paxter fought off an urge to smile as he filed that little piece of information away for later. Clearly, the North had not forgiven the Riverlands' betrayal of them by bending the knee to the King, and he could confidently tell Lady Olenna that any alliance or bond of friendship between the North and the Trident was irrevocably shattered.
If the Tullys ever were foolish enough to provoke another war by committing another act of treason, he would wager every coin he owned that there was no chance of the North rising to support them any longer. Not that he expected any such cause to arise; the Reach were not the Lannisters. Unlike the lions, they weren't waiting for the slightest pretext to avenge their hurt pride. Olenna had given her word on behalf of House Tyrell, and her son had agreed; until the Riverlands committed an actual crime, the Reach would not support any sort of punitive expedition the Westerlands or the Crown intended to mount.
Given that both Lord Tywin and King Joffrey lacked the forces to do any such thing without Tyrell support, Olenna had thus ensured peace in the realm for the immediate future. Unless of course, Tywin or Joffrey was fool enough to attack regardless, in which case the Reach would merely watch as they paid the price for their own idiocy. No, House Tyrell had no intention of dishonoring their sworn word by breaching the peace, and while, as Lord Karstark had pointed out, Alyssa Tully had shown she was perfectly willing to breach sacred laws, in this case there was no reason for her to do so.
For her to restart hostilities would be to thrust the Riverlands back into a war they stood no chance of winning, and her reputation had Paxter convinced that she was smart enough to know that. Silently, he prayed to the Seven just in case, begging them to allow his grandchildren, if his sons ever got around to giving him any that is; to grow up in a realm at peace. Let them enjoy their lives he prayed, envisioning the Seven-Pointed Star in his mind, let them grow old never knowing what war is, let them never have to draw steel to slay their fellow man. Though he was decently skilled with a blade, as any man in his position had to be, the Lord of the Arbor detested fighting and hated every time he was forced to end a life.
Well aware that he may be forced to do so again in the very immediate future, Paxter returned his thoughts to the here and now, where the Northern lords were standing in silence, waiting for his next words. "Lord Roose Bolton" he called, proud that he managed to give his voice volume that would have made the late King Robert smile; though Paxter knew he'd pay for it later, the sore throat would be worth it if it got the treaty signed. "You are called upon to bend the knee to his Grace, on behalf of House Bolton and the Dreadfort."
Smoothly, without a moment's hesitation the ice-eyed Lord Roose came forward, drew his sword, Paxter frowning despite himself at the screaming, flayed man which comprised the hilt, and swore his fealty to the Crown once more, along with his near three thousand men. When Roose signed the treaty and set his seal to it, Paxter wincing once again at the gruesome sigil of the Boltons, the Lord of the Arbor found his hopes of this being resolved peacefully rising and called forward Lord Medger of House Cerwyn.
One by one, the Northern lords approached, bent the knee, scrawled their signatures and set their seal upon the document ending the years long struggle the Maesters had taken to calling the War of the Five Kings. An inaccurate name, but it had been coined before Balon Greyjoy had declared himself King of the Iron Islands. Paxter permitted himself one brief instant's smile at the thought of those Ironborn scum, traditionally as much enemies to the Redwynes as the Farmans or Mallisters, not even being thought of as good enough to rank among traitors and rebels, before he schooled his features once more and returned to the business at hand.
After Lord Cerwyn came Harwood Stout, Lord of Goldgrass, commanding the Dustin forces in his Lady's stead. Though Paxter was unsure as to whether or not he could accept Stout's word on behalf of Barrowton, the one-armed Lord produced a scroll sealed with the crossed longaxes of Dustin, which in script so tiny Paxter's eyes watered to read it, gave the Lord of Goldgrass full authority to speak for House Dustin in this matter, and to bend the knee on behalf of Lady Barbrey and all the Barrowlands. With such evidence, Paxter relented, and yet another part of the North returned to the King's peace.
Lord Robin Flint had received similar permission from his mother, Lady Lyessa Flint of Widow's Watch and bent the knee on behalf of both branches of House Flint. Robett Glover, though not one of the Houses called upon by name, signed on behalf of Deepwood Motte and the Wolfswood, still split from their Stark lords after their rebellion. The next on Paxter's list was House Hornwood, but the long, brutal war had seen the House utterly extinguished, so the Lord of the Arbor simply moved to the next name on his list. "Lord Rickard Karstark" he commanded, expecting this to be no different than the others, "you are called upon to bend the knee to his Grace, on behalf of House Karstark and the Karhold."
To Paxter's utter shock, the older man hacked, coughed and spat on Paxter's armoured boots. "Piss off!"
Paxter drew back as if struck, caught totally off guard by Karstark's harsh refusal. "I beg your pardon, my lord?" he asked, as if unsure of his own ears. Certainly Lord Rickard couldn't mean to continue this doomed struggle, particularly when so many of his fellow Northerners had already bent the knee, not while knowing that doing so was setting himself against them and the near six thousand men under their command!
"You heard me" the elderly Rickard snarled, "I'm not signing that, you can get fucked. I won't crawl on my belly before that brat on his iron chair."
Uneasily, the Northern lords glanced back and forth amongst each other, not relishing the concept of slaying their own countrymen yet again, but well aware that Karstark's words were rapidly approaching a line from which there was no return once crossed. Knowing that Karstark's defiance could relight the fires of rebellion among the Northmen, Paxter gave the old man one last chance, hoping against hope that Karstark would back down and do the right thing.
"For the last time, Lord Karstark" he intoned, praying that this worked, "in the name of his Grace, bend the knee and swear fealty on behalf of yourself and your House!"
"Rickard" Glover coaxed gently, reaching out to the unhearing Karstark, "it's over. If you still want to fight for Robb Stark's cause" he reasoned, "then take the oath, return home with us and help us save Lord Brandon and his brother. Robb Stark is dead, but his brothers still live. House Stark lives. Don't throw your life away in the cause of a dead man."
"Heh" the old man chuckled, white hair blowing in the breeze, "it's too late for that. I've spent my life in the service of House Stark. Been south twice under two different Starks, knelt to a new King both times afterwards. I fought the Mad King for Ned, and bowed to Robert. I fought Joffrey for Robb, and bent the knee to him. The King in the North" he reminisced, clearly still proud of that memory, "a true Stark King for the first time in centuries. And now he's dead" Rickard bitterly pointed out, "but I'm too damn old to bend the knee again."
Drawing a deep breath and setting his shoulders, the Lord of the Karhold glanced around, before fixing his gaze on his eldest son and heir to the Karhold, Harrion. "Don't let our House end" Rickard commanded of his son, the black-bearded man looking down in despair as he understood his father's message instantly. "Bend the knee and take our boys home. Don't die here with me in the name of a dead man."
"Rickard" another lord tried, but the old man was steadfast.
"I am a free man of the North" he proclaimed, jaw set hard as despite his gritted teeth, his voice rose rapidly to a shout!. "I will die a free man, of the North!" Glancing back at his fellow lords, he drew his longsword from his belt, still sheathed and dropped it at his feet. "Go on" the old man said, voice suddenly tired, "do what you have to do." With his final word given, he stood there proudly, speaking not a word to anyone until a very reluctant Medger Cerwyn approached, gesturing for Robin Flint to accompany him and together they grasped one of Rickard's arms; the stubborn lord offering no resistance as they pulled them out to the sides, holding him in place.
"So be it" Paxter accepted after a moment's silence. "In light of your father's treason, and soon to be execution" he reminded the remaining Northmen, "in the name of King Joffrey, bend the knee, Harrion Karstark, and rise as Lord of the Karhold by His Grace's decree."
Barely able to look at his father, the newly named Lord Harrion went to one knee, stoically blinking away a few tears as he give his oath, and then Paxter moved onto the next in line, determined to return these proceedings to some sense of dignity and decorum. After Lord Harrion the Locke serjeant commanding the four hundred Oldcastle men left bent the knee presented a parchment from Lord Ondrew Locke granting the serjeant permission to bend the knee in the wake of Ondrew's son and heir Ser Donnel's death.
Wylis Manderly swore his fealty, the rotund man having a similar document from his lord father permitting White Harbor to return to the royal fold and with the deaths of not only Lady Maege Mormont but every single man and woman of Bear Island who had followed her south, that left only House Ryswell. Lord Rodrik took the oath upon being called upon, but the mountain clansmen remained, and they were a problem. Unlike usual armies, the mountain men's army was made up of over a dozen clans, and each required their own chief's permission to kneel.
Though he badly wanted to slaughter the savages in decent men's armor and be done with it, at last Paxter's desire for peace won out and he agreed to provide the clansmen with transport north regardless provided they swore not to do any harm to his ships, his men or himself. Once they were back in their homes, they could ask their chiefs whether they wanted to end the fighting or continue. Either way, given that they numbered just eight hundred men, Paxter wasn't concerned with their ability to threaten the King's Peace with anything more than nuisance raids. On the whole, if one stubborn old man and a few hundred wildlings remaining defiant was the price of the North bending the knee, then he'd gladly take it and he was sure, so would the King.
With the ceremony completed and the now loyal Northmen standing there waiting, it was time for the Crown to fulfil its part of the bargain. Gesturing to one of his retainers, Paxter absently set the man to organising the embarkation of the Northern soldiers while his own attention went elsewhere. King Joffrey's commands had included very clear instructions on what to do with the Northern lords who refused to bend the knee, and Paxter's gaze moved to the western part of the city.
There, steadfastly barring the way to the still blocked Bridge of Lions, camped the three thousand or so Westermen Alyssa Tully had called from their homes on threat of harming hostages should the lords refuse. With the Tullys withdrawing from the Westerlands, they no longer had any reason to remain, but raising their banners against Lord Tywin had been an insult which they knew the proud lion would never forgive. Maintaining their siege of Casterly Rock for lack of any better options for the moment, they were unwilling to return to their homes lest Tywin regather his forces once he was free of the siege and crush them separately.
As the Northmen began trooping up the boards onto the ships one by one, Paxter and his sworn retainers moved forward under banner of peace, approaching the edge of the city, and waiting patiently while his herald indicated their desire to speak with the Lords of the West. Minutes passed while Paxter's men glanced nervously at one another, aware that they were just within bowshot of the Western lines, before a small party of men on horseback came forth, banner of parley fluttering above their heads. Drawing rein just shy of Paxter and his men, the Western lords swung down from their saddles.
"My lord Redwyne" greeted the leader, blue cloak emblazoned with the three silver ships of House Farman."
"My lord Farman" Paxter replied courteously, unsure of exactly who he was speaking with as of yet, having never dealt with any of that House in person. His uncertainty must have shown on his face, for the other man smiled slightly, and bowed his head.
"How rude of me. Pray forgive me, my lord" he requested with a smile. "I am Sebaston Farman, Lord of Fair Isle. Allow me to introduce my companions" his arm moved out to encompass the other three riders. "Walder Serrett, Lord of Silverhill. Antario Jast, Lord of Pride's Peak. And Ser Steffon Stackspear, heir to Steelcrown."
"Is that all of you?" Paxter asked, eyes moving to the banners waving amongst the Western camps; the purple unicorn of Brax, the hanged man of the Banefort, Broom's greathelm, quartered orange and black sunbursts belonging to House Kenning, and many other sigils, none of which could be seen amongst the men parleying with him.
Lord Serrett, though Paxter would have named him a Frey, as he had the weaselly features common to scions of the Twins, folded his arms. "All of us who are coming." He shot a sharp grin at Paxter, who stood his ground and glared back at the black-bearded Serrett. "Seems the others don't trust you aren't here to aid Tywin."
"They gave us the right to represent them" Lord Antario Jast added hastily, eager to soothe the sting of the insult delivered by the Lord of Silverhill. "We speak for all the Western Houses gathered here. Why have you come, my lord?"
Paxter hummed, more for show than anything else, before he gestured at the Western camp holding off any men from approaching the bridge. "A strange thing" he replied, "to see Casterly Rock besieged by Westermen". His smile faded, deadly serious now. "King Joffrey sent me to resolve the siege of Casterly Rock, and put an end to your treason."
"Treason?!" Serrett roared, drawing his sword and only a quick grasp of his arm by Ser Steffon's gauntleted hand stopped him.
"Are you mad, man" Lord Antario asked in disbelief? "You would strike down a man during a parley, the Seven would curse us all for that! Put up your steel!"
Walder's glare burned into Antario for a moment, before the Lord of Silverhill snarled under his breath, slamming his blade back into its scabbard. While Paxter breathed a sigh of relief and his guards warily sheathed their own weapons, drawn in defence of their lord, Lord Sebaston Farman took the opportunity to pose a far more reasonable request for Paxter to explain.
"What treason have we committed, my lord?" the Lord of Fair Isle asked, voice calm and easy. "We raised our banners against Lord Tywin, not the Crown. King Joffrey has nowt to fear from us."
"You sided with the Tullys," Paxter reminded him with a pointed look. "You gave aid and support to declared enemies of the Crown."
Ser Steffon could contain himself no longer. "We had no choice" the heir to Steelcrown burst out. "Those savages from the North held our castle, and the Witch threatened to have them kill my father if we didn't send our men! We held back as many as we could, but House Stackspear lacked the strength to fight the Northmen investing our castle." The Stackspear knight's face twisted in disgust. "We sent a hundred men or so, just enough to satisfy the bitch's demands."
Antario Jast muttered something about similar threats, while Serrett and Farman remained silent. Whether they had reasons they didn't wish to say, or merely had no defence for their actions, Paxter didn't know and frankly, cared little either way. He was not there to judge their motives, but to deliver the ruling already decided upon by His Grace.
"Further more" the Redwyne lord reminded them, "you raised arms against your rightful liege in defiance of the king's laws. Lord Tywin holds the Westerlands in the name of King Joffrey, and to defy him is to defy His Grace. That is treason, my lord" he declared, face grim, "and that is as plain as it gets". Before any of them could make a protest, or deny these claims, Paxter pressed on.
"Therefore" he said, voice holding enough power to discourage any interruptions, "His Grace has decided on the following punishment for your actions. As Lord Rickard Karstark has declined the Crown's offer mercy, he remains a traitor in open rebellion. All of you will send your men home and disband your armies, while you yourselves will take your fastest horses and personally escort him out of the Westerlands. Once past the Golden Tooth, you will take the now former Lord Rickard down the River Road and catch up with the Tullys marching to King's Landing." That would be a long, hard and fast ride, as the lords of the Trident had nearly a moon's start, and by their frowns, these men knew it too.
"Once you reach them" Paxter went on, "you will turn the rebel Karstark over to the Riverlords and command them, in His Grace's name, to bring Karstark with them to King's Landing when they arrive to bend the knee. His Grace has already sent a raven to the Golden Tooth, commanding the Tullys to halt when they reach it for two days. That should give you time to catch up."
"Two days?" scoffed Serrett. "That barely gives us any time to reach them before they march again, we'd have to ride through the night almost!"
"This is intended to be a punishment, my lord" the unmoving Paxter pointed out. "After Karstark is turned over to the Tullys, you may ride home, and return to your lands."
"And then what?" Lord Farman scoffed at the thought of simply going home after everything that had happened. "Wait for Tywin bloody Lannister to stop licking his wounds and come after us for our 'treason'? If that's the best the King has to offer, my lord, I think we'll take our chance and wait for the Tyrells to come, if Mace Tyrell can even bother!" Serrett nodded his agreement with this, and Paxter bowed his head briefly.
"A fair point, my lords" he agreed, "and one that His Grace has already thought of." Eyes widened in surprise and the Lord of the Arbor smiled despite himself at having caught them off guard. "Before you leave, my lords" Paxter explained, "you will bend the knee to me, now, in His Grace's name, after which I will send word to King's Landing informing him that you have done so. His Grace will then formally pardon all of you for your treason against the Crown, as well as for betraying your liege lord."
"Just our liege lord?" Lord Serrett's eyes were narrowed, making them seem even more beady than usual. "Not for betraying Tywin? That means he could still attack us!"
"He could." Paxter's face was now utterly devoid of mirth. "Tell me" he pointed up at Casterly Rock, "how many men does he have with him now?"
Unsure where the Lord of the Arbor was going with this, Serrett shrugged. "Two thousand. Mayhaps less."
As if he had not known the answer, Paxter nodded slowly. "Two thousand. You have more than that here, and by your own admissions, many of you have men held back at home. And this is in the open, not a fortified defensive base like a castle. Once back in your own seats, my lords, you'll have more than enough men to beat off an assault, and that's before you come to each other's aid. The simple fact is, my lords, without support from the Crown, which will not be arriving, Lord Tywin lacks the strength to defeat you."
Paxter drew himself up, arms folded as he took a more serious stance. "Now" he asked formally, "will you bend the knee to his Grace?"
There was silence for a moment, and then Lord Sebaston was the first to sink to his knees on the city streets. Lord Jast followed, and then Ser Steffon. A reluctant Lord Serrett held firm. "And His Grace will confirm us in our lands and titles" he challenged?
"He will" Lord Paxter promised. "As his representative, I shall do so myself the moment you bend the knee."
At that, Lord Serrett knelt, and Paxter smiled. "Welcome back into the King's Peace, my lords" he congratulated them, before ensuring the surrender was official. He and his retainers had to visit the camp, accept each lord's oath, witness them bend their knee and have them sign and seal the Declaration of Submission. Once this was done, Paxter began the rather long process of confirming all the Lords of the Westerlands in their lands and titles in the name of King Joffrey.
Hours passed before Paxter was able to set down his quill at last, shaking his stiff, ink-stained fingers. Sighing in relief at finally being done with this business, he rose from his chair only to let out a low groan as he remembered what he had forgotten. He had yet to send a raven to King's Landing informing His Grace of the Northmen's submission. Stifling a moan, he penned one final message, informing the King of the events which had taken place this day, and stood once again, taking long, quick strides in his haste to reach the rookery.
Watching the maester attach the scroll to a bird the old man promised was his swiftest for King's Landing, Paxter watched it fly away with a smile. He had reason to be proud of himself, for that one piece of paper all but ended the war. Oh it wasn't that easy, the Riverlords had yet to present themselves at court and beg forgiveness for their treason, not to mention Paxter himself had technically exceeded his authority by confirming the Western lords in their lands and titles. Still, all in all the situation had ended favourably, and if promising the Westermen what was already theirs helped resolve things, then Paxter would have happily taken that, and he was confident, so would His Grace when he found out.
"So that's that then" Tyrion Lannister lowered the parchment he'd been reading from, turning to glance at his sister by his side. "The Northmen bent the knee to Lord Redwyne in Joffrey's name, as did Father's bannermen".
"Turncoats" Cersei hissed, though Tyrion could tell her heart was not in it. Like him, she had finally come to the painful realization that Father was infallible, regardless of the fact that she had done so far later than him. Father had simply lost too many battles, made too many mistakes, and so the Lords of the Westerlands had turned on him the way any vassal would abandon a lord who failed them so utterly.
Fingers drummed on the table and both Lannisters glanced over at the King, currently stroking one hand along his betrothed's back while the other tapped the table in thought. "Does that mean its finished then, Uncle, Mother? Are the traitors defeated?"
"Yes, Your Grace" Tyrion reassured the boy, the very picture of a devoted Hand. "The West has begged forgiveness for its betrayal of your lord grandfather, and the Northmen have bent the knee. The one man remaining in open rebellion is Rickard Karstark, and he has been stripped of his Lordship by his own son for his folly."
Joffrey smirked, lips drawing back. "As traitors deserve" he agreed. "And the Tullys are bringing Karstark with them? How soon will they arrive?"
"Two turns of the moon" Tyrion replied after some thought, "their route takes them along the River Road, where the individual lords will send their men home as they pass by their own lands. Once the last of the armies are disbanded, the lords themselves, along with their escorts of course, will make far better progress than hosts of men who must needs drag supply carts and siege weapons along with them."
"Good" Joffrey steepled his fingers as if in thought for a moment, before he grinned widely. "Well then, if the war's near done, it's high time we dealt with some long overdue business." He fixed his gaze firmly on Tyrion. "The time has come, Uncle, for Lord Stark to pay for his treason."
Tyrion opened his mouth on reflex, only for a moment's hesitation to have him think better of it. He knew what Joffrey wanted, to finally have Eddard Stark's head for what he had done, and though beheading the Warden of the North would usually be a folly of the highest order, the Northmen had sworn fealty to the Crown. If they reacted badly to this, Joffrey would have every right to name them rebels once again, and take their traitor heads should they dare step a foot south. House Stark was broken, and its patriarch had played the game, but played it badly, and lost. There was nothing more to it.
"Of course Your Grace" Tyrion bowed politely, suddenly thinking of a way to keep the boy happy a little longer. "Lord Tyrell should be willing to stand as a judge, and I shall summon as many other high lords as are willing to attend."
"Do so" Joffrey dismissed with a flick of his hand, before another thought occurred to him. "And schedule a trial for Lady Stark as well."
"Lady Stark?" asked a disbelieving Cersei. "Surely you don't plan to have Lady Sansa executed?"
"Sansa?" Joffrey scoffed. "Why would I waste time beheading her? No, its her traitor mother I mean to see meet Ser Ilyn's blade." His smile grew wider, as if he had tasted a particularly juicy fruit. "You said yourself, Uncle, that Lady Stark began this war by kidnapping you. That makes her responsible for all that followed. Thousands of Starks, Tullys and Lannisters died because of her, and she will answer for that crime."
Tyrion and Cersei glanced amongst each other for a moment, and even Margaery Tyrell's smile dimmed for a moment. "Your Grace" Tyrion pointed out at length. "Lady Stark is at Riverrun."
"So?" Joffrey snapped, unable to understand his uncle's problem. "Send the Tullys a raven then! Tell them that Lady Catelyn Stark is to be escorted to King's Landing to face charges of treason, breaking the King's Peace and inciting a war."
Silence greeted his words, and Joffrey was left feeling as if he had made some kind of mistake.
"Joff" his mother said gently, the King bristling at being spoken to as if he were a child, "you can't tell Edmure Tully to hand his own sister over to be beheaded."
"Family, Duty Honor" his uncle added from the other side, "the Tullys chose those words for a reason. Catelyn Stark is under her brother's protection, and the Peace of Old Oak gave no provision for prisoners not taken in battle."
"I'm not asking Edmure Tully to give up his sister." Joffrey ground out through gritted teeth, both fists clenched tightly. "I'm commanding Lord Tully, my Lord Paramount of the Trident, to hand over a criminal he is sheltering from the Crown. Catelyn Stark is an accused traitor, and to give support to such a person is to share in their treason." His nails were digging into his palms now and Joffrey shot to his feet, furious with his mother and uncle's failure to see things as he did. "Edmure Tully will hand Lady Catelyn over, as a loyal subject of the Crown. Alyssa Tully, when she arrives, will testify against her, as a loyal subject of the Crown. This is my command" he shouted, "and the Tullys will obey, or be known once and for all as traitors and rebels who will see no mercy."
Without another word, he stormed from the room, Lady Margaery hurrying to catch up with him, leaving Tyrion and Cersei to glance at one another in worry. This seemed like an error, but the King had spoken, and his word, afterall, was final. All they could do was try to mitigate some of the damage by wording the missive as best they could before sending it to Riverrun. As he set his seal to the order, Tyrion prayed the Tullys would see sense, and put their people before their family pride this time. If Edmure Tully refused Joffrey's demand, the Riverlands may well be afire within year's end.