The Camp
Samwell Tarly
Samwell's eyes locked with Gilly's, which widened in shock as she clutched her neck, which was bleeding profusely, and poured over her dress.
"Saaaa…." Gilly spoke, before she fell to the ground, blood dripping into the soil.
"Gilly?" Sam said, almost in a whisper, as he crawled over to her. He cradled her in his arms, and with his remaining hand felt her cheek, which was as close as ice.
His eyes blurred as they tested up, as he pressed his head against Gilly's before he lifted it up and gave a loud cry.
"AAAAGGGGHHHH!"
Samwell then heard heavy footsteps approaching, before he felt several hands attempting to pry him away from his wife.
"My Lord," Ser Rodrik said, in a tone laced with sadness.
"Leave me," Sam said softly.
"My Lord, please you must-"
"I said, LEAVE ME!"
"Father, what happened?" Little Sam said before he saw his mother's body in his father's arms. "MOTHER!"
He ran forward and dropped to the ground, trying to shake her awake. "Mother, please don't leave us! Please, gods please, don't…"
Sam lowered her to the ground so that he could grip his son's shoulder.
"She's gone, my boy," Sam whispered softly. "She's gone."
"My Lord, what in the Seven Hells happened here?" Adrian Hightower asked.
Sam's face hardened as he turned to Adrian, who was still holding his crossbow pointing downwards to the ground. It didn't take long for him to remember Mancie's warnings that day.
"You," Sam said as he got up and strode over to Adrian. "You did this."
Adrian's eyes widened in shock at the accusation, before Sam smashed his fist in the Hightower boy's face.
Adrian yelled in pain from the punch before he fell to the ground. Sam continued to approach before one of the Hightower men started swinging his sword at the Warden of the South.
"Die, you bastard!" the man said before Set Rodrik unsheathed his sword and slashed it upwards in the man's chest.
It was complete pandemonium from there, as men around the camp removed their swords and started clashing against one another.
Sam found himself fighting off against two more Hightower knights who were much more capable than he was. Fortunately, Little Sam yelled out a war cry before he swung his axe into one of the knights' head before he dug it deep in the other's chest, before they both fell to the ground.
"House Tarly!" Little Sam yelled as he charged at a Hightower knight who was busy fighting with Ser Rodrik. The knight turned as soon as he heard the cry just in time to deflect his waraxe. He moved to stab at Little Sam, but cried out in pain as he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He turned to see See Rodrik's sword pulling itself from it, as he fell to the ground on his knees.
Little Sam then drove the axe into his neck, which splattered the blood on his face, before he removed it.
He then heard a horn before he turned and saw the Lord Hightower himself leading his men on horses.
Little Sam moved to dash for him, but found himself stumbling to the ground. He got up and turned to see Adrian having tripped him. He growled before he raised his axe and made to move for him until his hand was caught in midair by his father, who merely shook his head at him.
Little Sam huffed as he gave Adrian a look that would have him killed on the spot if it could.
"Lord Samwell," Lord Hightower said.
"My Lord," Sam said in an even tone.
"May I ask, exactly what madness has been brought upon this camp?"
"You murdered my mother, you bastard!" Little Sam yelled, trying to get up in Lord Hightower's face, before he found himself at swordpoint by two horsemen.
"That is a very strong accusation you are making, boy," Lord Hightower said, looking coldly at him. "One that I do not take too well at all. Especially since I was still out in the forest, while my men were busy bringing the kill with them."
"LIAR!" Little Sam yelled.
"Lord Samwell," the Lord of Thorns said, turning to his liege. "I would have expected you and your House to have maintained a bit more self-control, and not act like a bunch of wildlings on a raid - but perhaps that is hereditary, passed down by bloodline.."
Little Sam glared at Hightower over the insult, while the Hightower looked at him unfazed.
"What's the matter, boy?" The Lord of Thorns asked. "Did your parents not teach you that truths hurt like a double edged sword? You will best learn to remember that." He looked at the men of House Tarly as he said that last statement before his eyes fell upon his son. "Adrian, come. We must be on our way."
Adrian picked himself up from the ground and went to join his father, accompanied by his men. The knights of House Tarly stepped away from them, and could only glare at their backs as they left.
"Are you alright?" Sam asked his son.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Sammy."
"I said I'm fine," Little Sam said a little too harshly, before his expression softened and looked at his father. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself."
"I know," Sam said.
"I'm going to kill them for this," Little Sam said.
"I promise you, my boy," Sam said, before looking at Gilly's body, which was currently being taken away by the Maesters. "We will avenge her."
The Crown
Aegon Tarstark
Two Weeks Later
"The Crown's Dothraki units are requesting additional funds in order to craft new blades," Ironborn, the Master of Coin, was saying. "They also want to put up a military parade once the feast begins." The High Council were all seated at a table, scrolls of paper scattered around it. A large carving of the Six Kingdoms was the centerpiece of the table, although the carving wasn't nearly as fancy as the one Aegon Targaryen had built at Dragonstone. The only person missing from the table was Jaime Lannister, the Hand. He'd gone to complete some business within Harrenhal.
"Well," Aegon replied "The funds for the Dothraki will not be an issue. The issue will be the logistics of their military parade, and the fact that if the Dothraki want a military parade, then the Westerosi Unsullied will want one, too."
Victarion Harlaw, the Master of Ships, spoke up as well: "And the Golden Company will probably charter boats across the narrow sea to put up a parade as well, or they'll ask the Crown's Navy to ferry them across."
"Well, our navy should be able to manage that, right?" Asked Aegon.
Victarion nodded. He was about to speak something, possibly about how the Greyjoys needed to be contained within their islands, lest they start reaving the coasts again, when Jaime Lannister charged in.
"There's been an assassination attempt on Samwell Tarly. Gilly Tarly is dead, and Samwell attacked Adrian Hightower, blaming the Lord of Thorns for the attack." The Hand to the King took his traditional seat next to Aegon, as everyone on the table suddenly sat up a bit straighter.
"What happened to Gilly?" Aegon demanded, clearly coming out of a stupor.
"She's dead, Your Grace." Jaime replied. "The Tarly and Hightower columns are travelling separately, and we'll have to redo the room assignments in the Reach's tower… we have to put the Tarlys and the Hightowers as far away from each other as possible."
"I doubt it'd be wise to even put them in the same tower!" Exclaimed Ironbound. Aegon nodded, his eyes watery. "It'd probably be best to have the Hightowers share the Easterlands tower with my children."
Aegon Tarstark was very up - front with his High Council regarding his dislike of his first born, incestuous children. It was only Mance, the youngest of his children, that he'd declared as his heir. More than likely, Morghon and his sisters would love to try and change their father's mind about it, once they arrived at the Crown.
But that was a matter for another day, for a servant knocked on the door to the High Council room. "Your Grace, My Lordships, Lords Hightower and Tarly have both arrived at the Crown… from separate entrances."
"Oh, by the seven." Muttered Jaime. "I still need to do the room assignments for them! How'd they arrive so fast, anyways?"
Aegon rose, ignoring his Hand. "If they have arrived from different entrances, then I'll only be able to welcome one of them", he pointed out.
Ironbound nodded. "Likely, that was intentional on their part. They wish to see which of them you prefer."
"Well," replied Aegon "I'd much rather prefer to see my best friend from back in my days at the Wall, whose wife just died, rather than the people accused of killing her."
Jaime nodded. "I'll go and welcome the Hightowers, in that case. The room assignments shouldn't be too hard, I'll just let them pick any rooms within the Easterlands' tower."
The Crown
Adrian Hightower
Holy fuck, Harrenhal was huge. As a fortress, it was just massive, and the huge city surrounding it only made the huge fortress look bigger. Pitch black curtain walls rose a hundred metres above the white and red cityscape, and from those rose five massive towers, towering into the sky and scraping against the clouds. The Fortress did not look like it had been attacked by dragons twice during its existence, rather, it actually looked magnificent. The upper halves of the towers were painted a gleaming white, with the tips of the towers a glorious golden, making the whole castle look like a massive crown.
The Lord Hightower, riding his steed next to the Hightower heir, spoke up: "They don't call it The Crown for no reason, Adrian. Now, close your mouth, at least two mosquitos have already made it their home."
In front of the Hightower party, the city's massive gates swung open, and Adrian had to marvel at how well the hinges spun; the whole doorway was open within seconds in spite of them being a hundred feet tall. Inside, the road was perfectly paved, and peasants had gathered at the side of the roads, to watch the first arrivals to the greatest feast in forty, perhaps fifty years.
There was nothing special about the peasants themselves, it wasn't like they were clothed in gold or something like that. But they did seem better off than the peasants back in Oldtown, and it seemed that most of them did in fact have filled stomachs when they went to sleep.
The party rode through the city, headed towards the fortress itself, which was the centerpiece of the city. Both the city and the fortress had the same name; The Crown, and so did the official title of the monarchy. No longer was the monarchy known by the Iron Throne, for the Iron Throne had been buried within the Red Keep when the Night King attacked it and Cersei Lannister set off the wildfyre within.
As the party finally arrived at the massive gates of the Fortress, the Royal Reception rode out to welcome them, led by a regal - looking man with balding brown hair, and a golden hand.
"It seems that our dear King Aegon is busy grieving with the Tarlys.." muttered the Lord of Thorns. "Why they think I killed that woman is beyond me; what would I gain from it?"
Adrian said nothing. He, too, had thought that it had been his father who had ordered the assassination. But now, the Lord Hightower claimed it wasn't him?
"Greetings, Lord Hightower!" Proclaimed Jaime Lannister as he rode towards them on a steed of his own.
Adrian unconsciously moved his own horse backwards, while his father moved his horse forwards, so Jaime would speak to him only.
"Welcome to the Crown. As I can tell from your son's expression, you're shocked by how large this place is. Don't worry, we're here to help you navigate it."
"Oh, don't mind my son." Retorted the Lord Hightower, clearly embarrassed that Jaime had noticed how much in awe Adrian was. "He's so blind, he's never looked at the Hightower, or Oldtown, which probably explains why he's so much in awe of this large village."
The Lannister raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he'd heard of the Lord of Thorns' reputation, but hadn't thought much of it. "Well", he replied "I'd've thought that Adrian would be impressed by how massive - "
"I don't recall asking for a jug filled with thy opinion, Lord Hand. But please, do give us a jug of some fine Crown ale, something to wash down the grime from this city's dusty streets."
The gobsmacked Jaime Lannister merely nodded, and had his servants pour out refreshments.
Soon enough, the party had moved into The Crown itself, and Adrian's awe tripled as he gazed up at the massive hall into which they had been led into.
"This is the secondary Entrance Hall." Jaime Lannister narrated, leading them farther into the stronghold. The Elite Crownsworn troops guarded the entrance, as well as each column and doorway within the Fortress. The Crownsworn were outfitted in armor that was coloured golden. Adrian was pretty sure it wasn't actually real gold, though, for that would just be mind - boggling. Where in the world did Aegon Tarstark get all the gold needed to make The Crown? Enough gold to pay all the masons and painters and soldiers needed to rebuild Harrenhal, and keep the Six Kingdoms running, and yet have enough left over to throw the biggest feast in a hundred years?
Perhaps the late Tywin Lannister's ability to excrete gold had been passed down to his son, Jaime.
The party continued walking through the massive fortress - their horses had been handed off - towards a massive room that Adrian could just barely see. After around another five minutes of walking, Adrian, no less in awe than when he had been when he'd first entered the mighty Fortress, was blown away again.
"The Hall of a Hundred Hearths!" Proclaimed Jaime Lannister as they entered the massive room. Even Father froze for a second; an expression of awe slipping past his stoic mask for a mere millisecond.
Seventeen massive hearthfires, each of them bigger than the one back home in the Hightower, lined each side of the room, for a total of thirty four massive hearthfires, each one bigger than the biggest one back at the Hightower. Calling it a room was like calling the Hightower a one - story building. That's how huge the place was.
"That would make three mosquitos that have made your mouth their home, Adrian." The Lord Hightower muttered at his son.
Adrian closed his mouth; he hadn't realized he was gaping. Now, as his eyes adjusted to the lower light in this massive hall, Adrian could see that they were not alone in the room. Another party was already in the hall, gathered around a raised dais at the end of the room.
The Tarlys.