Hello everyone!
Last chapter fully in the North for a while. And it's an eventful one, with the wedding and trials ;).
As always, thank you for all your support.
Enjoy!
Chapter LIX: The Bear and the Boy Fair
"Lady Barbrey of House Dustin, you stand accused of treason against House Stark by rebelling against your liege lord with House Bolton. You stand accused of ordering your men to fight against your rightful monarch, Daeron the Third of His Name, of House Targaryen." Robb enunciated clearly. "How do you answer the charges?"
"You are no Lord of Winterfell, and he is no king." The old lady with grey and brown hair spat. She had not suffered too much of her captivity. She still stood tall, unbent and proud.
In front of her, Lord Glover, Robb, Lady Catelyn, Lord Stannis, Daeron and Lady Alysanne Mormont in her quality of future Lady of Winterfell after she was chosen as Robb's bride. A panel of judges for the trial of the remaining traitors of the North. They had only just sentenced Lord Roger Ryswell to be executed by decapitation. It probably did not help the mood of the current accused since Lady Dustin was Lord Ryswell's sister.
But her grievances ran deeper than that. Daeron had learnt from Lady Catelyn that the lady's innocence had been stolen by his uncle, Brandon Stark. But she had been overlooked as a potential bride by Lord Rickard who wished to expend beyond the North. She had eventually married Lord Dustin, but he had died trying to rescue Lyanna Stark, and Ned had left his bones in Dorne, only bringing back his horse for the widow who dressed in black ever since.
If there was one person who was highly likely to rebel against the Starks, it was indeed Barbrey Dustin. Daeron felt pity for the lady. She did not have an easy life, yet he had to judge her nonetheless.
A man of her personal guard was brought forward as the main witness. He detailed methodically every order the lady had given them. Daeron did not know if he genuinely did not care about his lady, or if he talked in hope to gain something from the Stark. In any case, Lady Dustin kept screaming at him. "Traitor." She shouted. "Damn traitor, I'll have your tongue." But she would have no one's tongue. In fact, she would never ever give an order again. And they would have her head as she was unanimously but difficultly sentenced to die. She had not even tried justifying her actions.
When Lord Manderly and his son were brought forward, they required the help of four guards to move. How could they have become so fat? They were fatter than King Robert. No doubt they could not ride anymore, it had to be very uncomfortable to do anything with all this added weight.
Robb stood again. "Lord Wyman of House Manderly, Ser Marlon of House Manderly, you stand accused of conspiring with House Bolton, how do you answer these charges?"
"Your Grace, my Lord," the lord's voice sounded sleepy, "we had very little choice. House Bolton held Winterfell and after the campaign of Lord Robb, we simply did not have the men to oppose them. May I remind you that my eldest son and heir was one of the few heirs to die at the Red Wedding." They had not forgotten, in fact, they had guessed his deceased son would be his main line of defence. "As a grieving father, I could not expose my remaining heirs to danger. Also, we were very far away from your Grace, coming to you was simply impractical."
"Yet you came all the way to Winterfell." Lord Glover countered mockingly.
"Winterfell is closer, good Lord Glover, and as I said, I could not risk angering the Boltons, or the Lannisters. So, we came for the wedding." The fat lord explained.
"But we brought minimal guards and no army." His son added to further their defence.
Ser Davos Seaworth walked to the front. He was the main witness as he had been their prisoner in the last moons. "Ser Davos of House Seaworth, do you confirm that you were their prisoners for the last five months?" Daeron asked.
"Aye, your Grace." The old man with short grey hair and short fingers replied.
"What are your thoughts on the charges they are accused of?" This time, it was Robb who asked the question.
"Forgive my Flea Bottom accent please, my lords, my ladies, your Grace." The man started with a bow. "During my stay in White Harbour, the Manderlys never spoke ill of the Starks and they did criticize the Boltons. Though, I never saw them truly questioned I would say the daily orders coming from Roose Bolton. Like orders for food, to control ships or to provide them information from the merchants. They executed it as fast as they could. The only thing they did not do was take up arms."
"Why do you believe that is?" Lady Alysanne intervened.
"My Lady, I believe it is quite simple… Money. They are the wealthiest House in the North and were afraid that they would lose the source of their wealth if they rebelled." Daeron had come to the same conclusion as the baseborn knight. The Manderlys were just cowards driven by their appetite for money. "They did not want to be traitors, but they did what they had to do for their money."
"Would you say that's correct my lords?" Lady Catelyn asked graciously. Reluctantly, both nodded.
The judges retired to come up with a sentence. One that would be just but also exemplary. Robb delivered it an hour later. "House Manderly, the North and his Grace King Daeron have decided of your sentence. From now on and for the next ten years, you will pay a hundred thousand gold dragons to House Stark in reparation for your involvement in the Bolton rebellion. In addition, since you also opposed the Crown and refused to obey the King's command to rally to Castle Black, you will pay an additional hundred thousand gold dragons to the Crown. Do you accept the sentence?"
The two men visibly gulped, but the Manderlys were not fools. "We accept the sentence, Lord Stark." Wyman Manderly bowed as best as he could, followed by his son who did not do much better.
Theon Greyjoy's trial had been postponed to after the wedding since the accused had fallen ill. He had a severe case of bowel impairment according to Maester Wolkan who treated him. He could not leave his cell all day, where he laid in a puddle of his own faeces, moaning weakly. There might not even be a trial, he might not make it.
...
Daeron had strange dreams these days, ones he had difficulty explaining. He was in the big round room underneath Winterfell, the one where he had found Rhoynax and Weirion's eggs. And there was a dragon, one he had never seen. It was dark green with a golden spine.
Around it, eggshells of various colours were scattered. There were ashes oozing out of them. As if the baby dragons had burnt from the inside.
The dragon itself was in a bad shape. It was whining softly. When Daeron touched it to try and reassure it, its skin was burning hot. Not warm like a dragon usually was, but too hot to touch even for him who was immune to fire. The scales on its abdomen had lost its shine.
Suddenly a drop of liquid fell on the ground just in front of the dragon. It smoked and bubbled and seethed for a few second, as if the liquid was piping hot. Daeron lifted back his head toward the dragon and notice something red coming from his left nostril. When a drop fell it did the same thing as before. The dragon was bleeding from his snout he realised. And it kept whining. It had to be in pain.
As much as Daeron wanted to help, he was truly powerless. He had never seen a sick dragon, never even heard of it. The death of dragons he had heard of before were either very violent or they just died in their sleep, of old age when they were centuries old. Rhoynax and Weirion had never even been injured before. He had no way to treat this dragon.
The poor beast's forces started to decline further. It laid down, head on one of his paws. At regular intervals, a drop of blood would fall on the ground and bubble away.
Daeron looked into the golden eyes of the dragons. He saw agony in it. A pain and suffering that was too much to bear. He wanted to avert his eyes, but he could not. He owed it to the dragon to stay with it, strong until the end.
He never saw the actual moment the dragon died, but each night it got closer. The first time, the green dragon was still standing when Daeron woke up. It was the third night in a row that Daeron had this dream. Every time, he woke up confused and shaken up. Between this recuring dream and the one he had had of his grandmother and her dead children, he had to say he did not look forward to his nights nowadays. The only exception was the dream where he had learnt the secrets to Valyrian steel.
Arianne was bedridden with morning sickness. Her belly was starting to swell which was exciting to both of them. After a quick kiss to his wife, Daeron got out of their room to go to the forge. He knew that Lord Stannis would be waiting for him there.
The man was never late and it was something that Daeron appreciated. He was the only noble with which he had shared his dream of Valyrian steel. Of course, Lord Stannis was a sceptical man – now that he was out of the Red Woman's spell – so he had a hard time believing in a method coming from a dream. But even he had to admit that if the method had the slightest chance to work, they should try it. Valyrian steel was the strongest, best steel in the world. Not to mention, it could kill the things beyond the Wall, the White Walkers. Eventually, they would need it. Neither of the men had forgotten.
"How has it gone this time, Gendry?" Daeron asked Robert Baratheon's bastard. He was a talented blacksmith and, through his Baratheon blood, he had the blood of Old Valyria. Daeron and Stannis had both agreed that he could be the first man to forge Valyrian steel in centuries. It helped that Robb had agreed to condemn the forge for the sole purpose of their experiments without even asking question.
"I'm getting close your Grace." Arya's friend replied. The scraps of metal all around him attested of his efforts. In the first week, he had not even made it through the first bend without breaking the steel. Now, he managed to make blocks of Valyrian steel, but it was the modelling of the sword that still failed. "Do you remember what the mould was made of, your Grace? I think it could help."
Daeron thought about it, trying to relive the scene. "I believe it was made of polished dragonglass, like the rest of the forge." He declared. Feeling where the smith was going, he added. "I'll get you all the dragonglass we can get."
Daeron got out of the warm forge and into the snowy weather with Stannis. "Your Grace." The Lord of Storm's End called him. Judging by the face he made, he had something to ask. "I wanted to ask you, would you consider legitimizing Gendry?" Daeron had not expected that request to come from the old lord. In fact, he thought it would have been more likely coming from Arya, the way Sansa had asked for Aurane.
"Shireen will inherit Storm's End if you have no trueborn sons, Lord Stannis." Daeron reminded him.
"I'm not asking this for Storm's End, your Grace." The lord replied seriously. "I'm asking it for the boy. He's my blood. He brings honour to my brother's memory. He should bear the Baratheon name." He declared.
Daeron nodded, he could not help the small smile forming on his lips. "When he manages to produce good Valyrian steel, I'll legitimize him as a reward." He promised.
"Thank you, your Grace."
...
"Alysanne of House Mormont, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband in front of Gods and men?" Daeron asked. It was the first time he presided over a wedding. He had always thought as a boy, that one day he would see Ned Stark marrying his eldest son to a beautiful Lady. But Ned Stark was dead. The honour fell to Daeron as the second oldest descendant of House Stark, the King, and Robb's cousin.
"I take this man." Alysanne answered. It was not the joyous event Daeron's wedding had been. It was not as colourful either. Underneath the weirwood tree, lanterns of brown metal had been placed. They casted an orange light on every guest. No one talked, not even a whisper. The guests – lords and ladies of the Northern Houses, as well as the household of Winterfell – all wore grey and black, except for Arianne in her red gown and ruby crown and Sansa who wore blue. Even the bride and groom did not smile. Their faces were expressionless. This was a marriage of duty, everybody knew that.
Robb draped the cloak of House Stark that Sansa had made over Lady Alysanne's shoulder. The couple knelt before hearttree asking silently for the blessings of the gods. When they got up, Daeron declared: "Let it be known that Alysanne of House Mormont and Robb of House Stark have seeked the blessing of the Old Gods to bring strength and prosperity to their wedding." Then, he nodded to Robb who kissed Alysanne chastely on the lips.
The wedding was done. Now, as was the tradition, Robb carried his bride inside, for the wedding feast.
Robb and Alysanne did not seem much happier at the feast despite the noise and the flowing ale that were to be expected in a Northern wedding. Daeron wondered what they must be thinking. Well, in a way, he knew. It would not surprise him if they were both thinking of Talisa.
At least, the guests were enjoying themselves. Lord Glover was in the middle of what looked like a drinking contest with Lord Manderly who had apparently forgotten his sentence for the night. Sansa and Aurane Waters were chatting in a corner, though they remained very proper. On the dais, Lady Stark was in deep conversation with the little Lady Lyanna Mormont. Both women seemed happy, which was a rare sight for both of them.
Suddenly, Lord Glover and Lord Manderly started to sing "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" together. They seemed to believe it was appropriate given the situation. They were horribly out of tune.
"A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair.
The bear! The bear!
Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!
And down the road from here to there.
From here! To there!
Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear!
They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!
The fair! The fair!
Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
The bear smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!
Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
The bear, the bear!
Lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!
I called for a knight, but you're a bear!
A bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair.
Her hair! Her hair!
He licked the honey from her hair!
Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair." They vociferated as loud as they could. Daeron could not help but laugh.
When they finished, he noticed Arya sulking in a corner on her own. She did not seem to have found the song fun. Daeron walked up to the girl who had once been his beloved little sister.
"Are you enjoying yourself Arya?" He asked knowing full well the answer, her face told it all. She hated feasts and apparently, she hated weddings even more.
She shrugged. "Was your wedding the same thing?" She asked sceptically.
Daeron laughed lightly. "It was not. It was much longer. It was in the Sept of the Water Gardens in Dorne." She widened her eyes as if she could not imagine the torture of having to sit at a wedding for longer than she already had. In moments like this, Daeron truly recognized the Arya who had left Winterfell three years ago.
"Was it worth it?" He did not like her tone. It was condescending and even slightly threatening.
"Arya, I love my wife and we have a beautiful child together. Of course, it was worth it." He sighed. "Must you really be rude to her. She's your Queen. You should at least try." He knew Arianne would have liked to form a bond with Arya, but the girl resisted.
"I can try, I don't guarantee I will succeed." She rolled her eyes. "You can't blame me, I protect the pack. Anyone who isn't our family is a potential enemy." If she was thinking like that, she could become dangerous fairly quickly.
"Arianne was my family even before we married." He countered, grabbing her attention. "She was my siblings' cousin." He detailed. Arya scoffed, unconvinced.
Robb prevented Daeron from having to reply. He knocked on the table to command silence for what looked like an announcement.
"My ladies, my lords, as we celebrate the union of two great Houses tonight, so do we celebrate the victory of the North over the rebels." Robb started solemnly. "Heroes like Lord Cley Cerwyn who died battling against the Boltons. His dying wish was to have his castle passed over to an honourable, deserving man. Your Grace, what better man than another hero of the Battle of Winterfell? If his Grace could find it in him to legitimize Aurane Waters, I would happily name him the new Lord of Castle Cerwyn."
"Aye!" Some lords slammed their ale on the table to mark their approval. Aurane had gained popularity amongst the Northern noble for his great respect and his good mind for strategy.
"If it pleases, your Grace, I would ask this as a wedding gift." Robb added with a smile.
Daeron walked to Sansa's soon-to-be husband. "Kneel, Aurane Waters." He ordered. The man obeyed swiftly. "Do you promise to be just and honourable as any Lord should be?"
"I promise."
"Do you promise to look after Castle Cerwyn and all its inhabitants?" He especially had in mind Lord Cerwyn's sister who was an old maid and still lived in the castle.
"I promise."
"Do you have any wish for the name of your House?" He finally asked.
"Your grace, in honor of House Stark and the North who give me this great opportunity, and as I have no wish to usurp my nephew, I ask for my House to be named Rinazoklio." Daeron smiled at the request. The majority of the Lords probably did not know it, but 'Riña Zoklîo' meant 'lady direwolf' in High Valyrian. A great homage to Sansa, no doubt.
"Rise, then, Lord Aurane of House Rinazoklio, Lord of Castle Cerwyn." Despite being confused by the name, the Lords of the North welcomed their newest member with great clamour. "Lord Robb!" Daeron called bringing back silence to the hall. "You have asked for Lord Rinazoklio's legitimization to be your wedding gift, but I don't think it would be proper. I have a real wedding gift." He nodded to Prince Oberyn who brought forward the gift.
It was wrapped in a white linen and he set it on the table of the high dais, in front of the married couple. Robb opened the linen and gasped. Inside was a longsword of Valyrian steel. The pommel was decorated with volutes of iron and bronze engraved with runes of the first men, like the crown of the Kings of Winter, and it ended with a direwolf made of ivory with obsidian beads as its eyes. It was fine craftmanship. A sword that would last for generation and replace the lost Ice.
Robb's eyes begged to know 'how'. "It will never be Ice." Daeron stated. "But I hope it will serve you well." He turned to the assembly. "It is also the first of the newly forged swords. House Targaryen and House Baratheon have worked hand in hand to unveil the secret of Valyrian steel. Today, I am proud to say that Gendry Waters, King Robert's natural son," – he knew that Robert had been popular in the North – "is capable of making new Valyrian steel." He nodded to Stannis, then to Gendry who was seated at the back of the room. "As a reward, it is mine and Lord Stannis' wish that Gendry Waters be legitimized as Gendry Barathon. Rise Lord Gendry of House Baratheon." He ordered to the poor boy who looked completely baffled as he stood up from his chair.
...
Slightly more cheerful, the feast resumed as before. Not long after, the newly made Lord Aurane called for the couple to be bedded. The drunken lords and ladies happily obliged, tearing Lady Alysanne's dress to pieces. Sansa, who Daeron expected to look horrified, actually looked quite envious. She would be the next one after all.
Needless to say, Robb did not spend his day in bed with his new wife. While he guaranteed to Daeron that his duty had been done, his marriage was just that, for now, a duty to be performed.
Therefore, he was ready and alert the next morning to start planning immediately for their march South against the Lannisters. Daeron wanted it done as swiftly as possible since the threat to the North was not waiting for them. He had to have the capital under his control before another year passed.
"For decades, House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros." Lord Stannis commented. "It pains me to say so but it was never the Baratheons. Even if their bastard hides behind my name, now." He continued bitterly. "The seat of that power is Casterly Rock. House Lannister is a proud House, they will not take the offense of having their castle taken away lightly. Not to mention, if we succeed, we will have Tommen and Tyrion in addition to Cersei, Jaime and Myrcella. The last of Lord Tywin's family will be, well, Lord Tywin and that retched boy." He spat. "He will march against us, meet us in the field. Once his army has been destroyed by the dragons, we will be free to march on an undefended King's Landing." The Lords present nodded at the old battle commander's strategy.
"We must not forget one thing." Daeron pointed out on the map to Highgarden. "The Tyrells might hate the Lannisters right now, but they still have their little rose. If they feel threatened, they might rally to the enemy. How do we make sure that does not happen?" He asked looking at all his advisors.
"We should send either an envoy or an army at their gate." Robb reflected. "Our closest allies are the Martells."
"Mace Tyrell hates House Martell." Arianne intervened. "Though his mother will probably be more inclined to listen. No, the real problem is that we cannot trust my father. He should not be our envoy. He could start a conflict with the Tyrells if he believed it to be to his benefit. And who's to say he would deliver our terms and only our terms?"
Daeron had an idea. "Prince Oberyn." He turned to his Kingsguard. "Could you send a letter to your daughter Sarella and your Paramour?" He asked. "They will be our envoys." He decided.
"The Tyrells will not take kindly to treating with bastards." Stannis warned.
"The Tyrells are not just Mace. He might be an oaf, but Olenna is not." Daeron countered. "Sarella and Ellaria will be royal envoys. They will listen to them." He spoke with confidence.
"It is decided then," Robb summarized, "we march to Casterly Rock and then King's Landing while Highgarden is dealt with by the Dornish."
"Yes." Daeron confirmed. "Then, if we still have time, we deal with other areas. The Riverlands and the Vale, mostly. But we must keep an eye on the threat to the North. Gendry Baratheon will stay here and produce as many Valyrian steel swords and other weapons as he can." He paused. "We also need dragonglass. Lord Stannis." He addressed the former Lord of Dragonstone. "Your man Davos Seaworth, does he know Dragonstone well?" He asked.
"Better than anyone, your Grace." The older lord replied.
"The Free Folks have volunteered to mine the dragonglass, they will be leaving for Dragonstone with the help of the Velaryon fleet." He explained. "I want Ser Davos to go with them." The lord nodded. "Very well, my Lords, prepare, we leave in a fortnight." He ordered.
What did you think? I believe the part of Aurane's legitimization was very cheesy, but I really needed it x).
Next chapter: a revelation and the march through the Neck. Beware of the dream.
Guest reviews:
- (nikki) No Alysanne is stubborn but she is from the North, she will never be like Cat. I think the heirs behaviour will bring more trouble than good to Robb. She likes Talisa because she knew her and she was a 'Stark', she hates Lyanna because she became a Targaryen and she feels deceived. He should give up on the North, but it's where he was raised, hard to forget them.
- (Hitman) You should write it ;) I'm sure it would be great fun.
Yeaaah.