Bran
They had rode for what seemed an eternity.
Not long after they had finally reached Nightsong, they had gotten word from the capital, summoning Lord Bryce and himself both, and informing them of his father's arrest. King Robert was dead too, and Prince Joffrey was King Joffrey now.
Bran had wanted Lord Bryce to gather his forces and march on the capital to free his father, though the lord refused. 'Your father was clear on what must be done, and I myself will not have the men on my own to take the capital,' he had said.
There had been a letter too, one from his mother. Bran hadn't been given it, but he had found it and read it himself, ordering him back to the city, though when he brought it up, he was told it wasn't truly his mother who had written the letter, but the queen.
But they had been riding west anyways, not north. At first Lord Bryce had stated that they were riding north, however Bran could see the lie of it plain from the sun and the way they were riding.
When he had asked why they were going west though, he hadn't received an answer. No matter who he asked, they wouldn't tell him.
Yet as they traveled, Bran saw more of the world that he had never seen before. They had ridden through the Kingswood and seen the Wendwater Bridge that had seen the third Blackfyre Rebellion be put down, and the great castle of Storm's End that was rumored to have been built with the aid of his ancestor, Bran the Builder, before seeing the Dornish marches as well.
Despite Lord Bryce claiming that he would not be riding North to rescue his father now, he had assembled his forces, and was going west with a host of near two thousand men, from what Bran had heard, and today was the day that he had realized where they had gone.
The castle was large, almost as large as Winterfell, and perhaps the most beautiful castle Bran had ever seen. He knew that Sansa would love it here.
There were three outer curtain walls, each made of white stone, and each higher than the last. Covered in ivy, and moss, and a great keep inside also made of white stone.
'Is this Highgarden?' Bran had asked, and gotten a nod from Lord Bryce.
'Here is how we win your father's freedom,' Lord Bryce had told him.
As they got closer, Bran could see that outside even the outer walls they were ringed with what seemed to be thousands of men at arms, and dozens of banners belonging to lord's great and small.
When they got close enough, some riders had come out to greet them.
"My lord," the rider greeted. The sigil on his surcoat was not one that Bran knew, and no doubt the man was of some household knight in service to House Tyrell. "Lord Mace and Lord Renly are glad that you have come, and would like you to come to the castle soon to be welcomed by them."
"It would be my pleasure ser," Lord Bryce said, and Bran figured that he must've known the man based on how he said it, and the knight rode off, while they continued on as well following more slowly behind.
When they got to the camps that others had made around the castle, the men began to set up their own camp as well, and Bran noticed the servants were setting up Lord Bryce's pavilion.
After the pavilion had been set up, Lord Bryce descended in, and returned dressed as befits a lord.
Bran himself then went in and dressed himself as well. He removed his riding clothes and wore grey breeches and a white doublet, and placed his wolf's head brooch of silver to clasp his grey cloak on.
When he left, he saw Lord Bryce and several other knights were waiting, and when Bran had mounted up again, they headed for the castle.
In between the outermost wall and the second wall there was a labyrinth made of hedges that they thankfully had men to guide them through. Bran tried to memorize the way through it, but couldn't, and it only came as a relief when they finally had made it to the next wall where afterwards they had no more mazes to navigate.
Inside the walls the castle was just as beautiful as it had been from the outside, with flowers and trees everywhere. This looked like a proper castle for the summer.
Bran rode with his own Summer as well, and found himself wondering if Lord Renly and Lord Tyrell had truly joined their forces to save his father. They must have, he decided, and he felt certain they would be enough to win it.
Soon they were in the main audience hall, where they were greeted by the Tyrells.
There was a man who sat in the middle that he could only guess to be Lord Mace himself, a handsome man with curly brown hair that had got fat it seemed.
Next to him was a woman with silver hair that Bran could only guess was his wife, though Bran didn't know her name. She looked a little like Daenerys, though much older. Beside them was an old woman who seemed as small as a child, and a handsome man who seemed to be a cripple, that Bran recalled was the heir, and he was joined by a woman of black hair, that he could only guess was Lady Floris, King Robert's own sister.
On either side of them were children, one a boy who seemed to be near Bran's age, the other a girl a little younger, both who had black hair, and another small boy sat on the cripple's lap while Lady Floris held a babe in her arms.
There was another handsome knight that Bran saw, sitting by another pretty woman that he didn't know that seemed to have red apples on her dress, leading him to guess she was a Fossoway. There were two Houses Fossoways he recalled, one Red and one Green, but he didn't remember much else other than that.
Furthest to the left were two very beautiful young women as well, who he guessed had to be Lord Mace's daughters. He recalled the older was named Margaery, but he didn't recall the younger's name.
But the ones who stood out the most to him were Ser Loras and Lord Renly who Bran recognized from court as well.
There was bread, salt and wine offered to each of them. Bran took the bread and salt, however was unsure if he should take the wine, since his father rarely allowed him to have any, but took some in the end.
"How many have come so far?" Lord Bryce asked when they were finished.
"Your brother arrived two days past. Tarly, Rowan, Penrose, Oakheart, Florent, Fossoway, Crane, Morrigen, and Selmy have all arrived so far, and more are soon to come," Lord Renly informed them. "I've heard Lord Beric's wife is gathering forces of both Dondarrion and Dayne to come, and many other great houses will answer the call."
Bran tried to recall each of the houses as they were said. He remembered Ser Arys Oakheart was one of the Kingsguard, and Princess Myrcella's sworn sword at Winterfell, and Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur were also at Winterfell, but the other houses he didn't recall as well.
"Who has not come my lord?" He wondered.
"Lord Tywin's brother still holds Starpike. The Merryweathers and Caswells will wait for us along the Mander. Lord Swann only sent us his son and heir, Ser Donnel, with his second son being with Joffrey, and his third son with Stannis. Lord Redwyne's sons also did not flee King's Landing," Lord Renly said.
"They will not be a threat though my lord," said the one Bran guessed to be Lord Mace. "We will march on King's Landing with a hundred thousand swords behind us, or near enough to make no matter. Stannis, Joffrey, Stark, none of them will be enough to challenge us."
The mention of Stark like that shocked Bran a little, and he chose to speak up. "Will we be freeing father?" he said, feeling nervous, and when he did, all the eyes turned to him.
He noted Lord Renly was the one who looked over him with the most curiosity in his eyes. "It is my hope that your father should still be alive and that we may yet win his freedom."
Bran nodded. "Thank you my lord," he said.
The Lord of Storm's End continued, "Your brother has called his northern banners, while the Kingslayer and Lord Tywin have had to turn their attention East at the Riverlands, leaving Ser Tygett to fend for himself at Starpike. It is said that the Kingslayer has beaten the Riverlords both beneath the Golden Tooth, while Lord Tywin marches up the Kingsroad, and your brother marches south to meet him."
It made Bran feel nervous, hearing his brother was off to war soon to be facing Lord Tywin in the field of battle at just five and ten. "Robb will beat him," Bran decided to say as confidently as he could.
He saw a mixture of pity and amusement among the faces of their hosts, save for the handsome man who looked an older and bigger version of Ser Loras. "May the gods give him strength," the man said kindly.
"Let us hope he wins," Lord Mace said. "We will hardly need to do battle if he does."
Bran looked confused, and King Robert's brother flashed the man a look that he wasn't sure what to make of it. "If we rally the Young Wolf to our banners, this war will be all but won."
He wasn't sure who the Young Wolf was, but he quickly figured it must have been some nickname they had given to Robb. If his brother could be the Young Wolf, surely he could be a knight too then.
"Perhaps we will win Dorne too. Starfall has joined our cause," the crippled man said.
Lord Bryce didn't take too kindly to that. Bran knew that the marcher lords were not particularly fond of the Dornish, and he was not particularly different. It made him think of Allara who was still in King's Landing with her father.
Bran tried to remember what the seat of House Santagar was until it finally came to him. "Spottswood might," he blurted out. He and Allara were friends, surely they would come then.
"I think not," Lord Renly said, giving him a sad smile. "Ser Aron is the Master of Arms for the Red Keep. Ser Symon will not join us if it means the heads of his brother and nieces."
He felt a little disappointed by that. Bran wanted to help his father, but he wondered what he could even do to help.
"I might write to Prince Oberyn," the heir suggested. "He and I are friends, and surely Prince Doran will heed his council on this."
"Anymore than he heeded Prince Oberyn's advice when he suggested that Princess Arianne be married to you?" Lady Floris asked, smirking. "Prince Doran is an old and gouty man, and his heir, the Princess, will not take well to our cause surely."
"Dorne is south of King's Landing," Bran finally said. "Would it matter if they won't join us?"
It was Lord Bryce that answered him. "Dorne commands fifty thousand spears, spears that oft as not they plunge into our backs. If we do not have Dorne, we must leave strong garrisons along the marches and worry if they mean to take us from the rear."
"And the Dornish are treacherous folk," the Lord of Highgarden added. "When the Young Dragon-"
"-Hush Mace," said the small woman. "No need to bore the lad with history, else I might speak to him of things that he might truly care for."
Lord Mace turned a little red, though did not say another word.
"When will you… Or… We march?" Bran asked. He figured he would go on such a march. How couldn't he, as the squire to Lord Bryce, and the boy whose father they were going to war with. Bran remembered that his father had taught him the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Perhaps he was too young to fight himself, but he was not too young to be there.
"Soon enough," Lord Renly. "A few more lords will come and we will begin our march."
The woman who was sitting next to Lord Mace spoke up. "I'm sorry my lords if we have been remiss in our hospitality. These are not matters meant for the children. Garlan, take Lord Bryce to his chambers, and Tyanna, you can take his squire."
"We had a pavilion," Lord Bryce said, though it didn't matter, as Bran noticed the younger of the two maids began to walk towards him, who he guessed to be Lady Tyanna. She took Bran's arm and began to lead him out of the main hall, Summer padding alongside him.
He studied the girl over as they left. She wore a green dress without sleeves. She seemed to be near Sansa's age if not a little older Bran guessed, not quite a woman yet. Her curled brown hair tumbled down to her waist, and she had big brown eyes with pale skin like her mother.
"The wolf… It's yours?" She asked him when they had walked for a little while.
"Yes. My brothers and sisters all have their own too," he told her.
"There had been some rumors that the Hand's children had found direwolves, but I hadn't known what to think of them. He is truly a direwolf though?"
"Yes," Bran said. "His name is Summer."
"Summer," Tyanna echoed. "I thought the Stark words were Winter is Coming?"
"They are," he said.
She giggled softly. "Does your brother, the one marching south, have a wolf too then?"
Bran nodded. "Robb… He named his Greywind."
"How old is he?" Tyanna wondered. "They call him the Young Wolf, but how young can he truly be?"
"He's five and ten," Bran told her.
She raised an eyebrow curiously, before she opened a door. "These are your chambers," she said to him, and allowed him to walk in. The room wasn't so large as the one he had at Winterfell, though it was bigger than the one he had at the Tower of the Hand.
They must have been expecting him to be coming, as if Lord Bryce had written ahead to Highgarden before they had left Nightsong, since there was several clothes there that had wolves on them, and even a few toys that he realized they must have put there for him.
"Thank you my lady," Bran said, turning back to her.
"Someone will come with food sooner or later. Until then some rest might suit you," she said to him and then she closed the door, leaving him alone in the room with Summer.
He was more tired than he had realized, and Bran walked over to one of the dressers and took some night clothes out.
Once he had finished changing, Bran yawned and got into bed, with Summer next to him, and quickly fell asleep.
Author Notes:
Alright, so this chapter's out… We're going back to Winterfell for our next one.
Thank you guys for reading as always, and for all your wonderful feedback that is much appreciated.
And here is my obligatory reminder that I do not own ASOIAF.