Chapter 4

"I needn't ask who you are. I see the lion on your armor, and I see the hate in your eyes. You want to kill me, don't you?"

"It'll be less than you deserve, my lord. But I won't kill you today."

"You look like him, did you know? Your namesake."

"You've killed everyone that knew his face, Lord Tywin. You might just be the last, you and your brother, the treacherous worm."

"Of course you know of that. Did they teach you about every man to ever wrong your House?"

"Just the two."

"Will you lecture me on honor next, boy? Your grandfather tried that once. Do recall, if you can, what happened to him."

"I wouldn't know what to tell you of honor. I'm not here for that, I'm here to take everything you hold dear, my lord. Make no mistake, I'm not here for justice, I'm here for vengeance, to pay back a debt owed. I won't do you the courtesy of letting you die before witnessing my reign."

"The rule of the Reynes is over, Castamere is a pile of rubble. Do you think you frighten me? You, a green boy, will rule over dust and little else."

"Castamere will persevere, my lord, as will the Reynes. All for Our Pride, these are our words if you've forgotten. I shall take your wealth and your land for my own, your castle for my men, your children for prisoners, and your granddaughter for a wife."

"Pride and scorn were your family's downfall once."

"And now they shall be yours. Fitting, isn't it, for House Lannister to end at my hand. You were wise to drown Castamere, Lord Tywin, I would have done the same. But it's all for naught. You did not kill every last one of us. You did not kill the worst of us."

"Kneel and I'll give you Castamere, Roger Reyne."

"Kneel and I'll give you a quick death, Tywin Lannister."

I wish I'd been told that fate grants victory and guilt in one stroke, that a man's proudest moment can be tainted by the shadow of an oath long since given. Was Castamere more important than a promise made in chains?

I, for one, did not know. The uncertainty of what I had done was poison to my mind. But the excitement of winning against Drumm left me little time to dwell on my fears. I wish Ser Devan was here, he could make sense of this madness. I felt lost without the old man. Then again I was never properly trained for war or battle, my fate was to live and die leaving nothing but an heir of nothing behind. He tried to warn me when I bid him farewell, but I was a fool. Not this lion, I told him, this lion is different.

Now that I found myself on the edge of greatness and madness both, I did not know what to do. The line between righteous and tyrant was far too thin for victorious eyes to see, a thing that matters but only ever spotted by those who were lucky enough to survive war at least once before. It wasn't for everyone, and even I felt unprepared in the face of its might. There was fear within me, fear that never left. It was fear of failure and disgrace, of losing my dreams to a failed attack or careless commanders. My hopes were with Ser Devan, may he find us a way home.

"Are you a knight yet, old friend?" Illar was in the mood for conversation, as he always was with wine in his belly and a woman nuzzled against his arm. His home and all the silks within had become my seat of power. The table at the center of the room was littered with books and scrolls, a testament to how war truly worked, a dull affair that relied on months of preparation, and only a few key moments of battle. He and I spent our days laying plans and sending word to Griff with what we needed. For days, the old man had not responded. All we had to do was wait, and pray Ser Devan sent word before long. We sat and enjoyed his wines one afternoon, surrounded by his silks and riches.

"I gave up on that dream long ago," I replied. Ser Devan never showed any interest in knighting me. But then again we'd been on the run for so long, I doubt he ever gave it much thought. I wouldn't earn the title before reaching Westeros anyway. What would I be, a Knight of the Narrow Sea?

"Is the Lannister lord a knight?" Illar asked, oblivious to the effect Tywin had on my temper.

"Aye, he is. So is his brother, the man my grandfather and namesake knighted," I finished my wine and motioned for the girl in the corner to fill my cup. She moved mutely and obediently, requiring nothing more than a nod. How I missed Doreah and her sharp tongue then. "Fancy that, you knight a man and cloak him in honor and glory. In the end, he watches as your family drowns, and your keep burns, as your name fades into ash."

"You expect far too much from small men," Illar spat, "Of course he watched him die and said nothing. Most people would do the same."

"I expected a speck of honor," I said, "But there is little of it in me, I can hardly expect it from my enemies. I hope Tywin and his brother are both alive by the time we cross the sea. I want to speak to them before I take their land and gold, I have questions to ask."

Illar grinned as I spoke, falling into laughter by the time I finished my sentence. His shoulders shook and with them the girl lounging beside him, a beautiful creature with piercing eyes. She always seemed out of place among them. He thinks I'm jesting, I realized. Only Illar would laugh at my folly. Ser Devan would give me a piece of his mind were he here.

"Have you given your future thought beyond war and battle?" Illar asked. He leaned forward, as he always did when he was about to speak his mind, his unpopular opinion. "Have you thought of who to wed and who to befriend? Warriors are all well and good, but I know enough of Westeros to tell you it isn't enough. You need Houses and knights, lords, and ladies."

I had given it some thought, but in the end, I knew very little about Westerosi Houses, their strengths, weaknesses, or alliances. The distance made it difficult to properly understand the political landscape awaiting me. "It's too soon," I said. My words made Illar sigh and lean back into his seat, his eyes moving in that calculating way I hated so. "Ser Devan will know. He's been in Westeros for a while now, and-"

"Ah, damn you and damn every fecking thing you've ever said about that man. Ser Devan this, Ser Devan that. Does he milord you for every step you take? Does he give inspiring speeches about honor and pride and red lions while combing your hair? If the Lannisters kill us all, I'll be glad to never hear you spit out his virtues again."

"Don't be jealous, Illar, I'll speak of your virtues should you ever gain any," I raised my glass for a toast, "However unlikely that is."

"I've been reading whatever I could find on this Tywin Lannister. He seems a man to be feared, and if you want to take your ancestral home from him, you will need to be feared as well."

"He already fears me," I said, feeling a grin of madness spread across my face, "He's feared me ever since he learned of my survival. Whatever doubts you may have about me, Illar, trust in that."

"I do not doubt it," Illar leaned forward, "You are everything he failed to plan for. And your existence alone paints him in weakness. But beyond that, lords of the kingdom are loyal to his family. Do you understand?"

I groaned in annoyance, "Shall I marry his daughter then? Show the world that I've tamed the golden lion?"

"Hasn't she whelped kings already? You're far too young for such a woman, she'd kill you in your sleep."

I laughed then. It was amusing to imagine all this bloodshed leading to a dishonorable death at the hands of a Lannister wife. "Then what are you suggesting?"

"I think of honor often. It was this slave in service to the Targaryens. Where I was noble in birth, she was noble in spirit. She spoke with the innocence of a child, yet the wisdom that only the unfortunate would see."

"Did you bed her?"

"I did not."

"You sound like someone drunk on a woman."

"Her memory makes me think on honor."

"Good. Every lord worth the title would ponder honor. But lords who live long and live feared, they understand that honor is a shield for few, not a sword for all."

"It is no shield and no sword either. Honor is for the innocent, for those who stay away from the lords and their games. Honor is Doreah and her smile, it's a pile of firewood carried in gentle hands. Honor is for summer and the breeze moving through the great grass sea. There is no honor in what I'm about to do."

"Who knows, old friend, you might find honor in your deeds, however dark they may be. You are, after all, the Red Lion, the knight of the splintered shield, Drumm's bane, the last of the Reynes. You're a song waiting to be written."

"Let the bards sing their songs, let them find joy in my journey. But I cannot allow honor on this battlefield, not until Tywin is dead. A lion has no honor, a lion has claws."

"Oh ho! Old friend, I'd forgotten you had a song already."

The Riverlands bleed, Harrenhal suits the land it stands on. The rain will be a welcomed sight. Smallfolk pray for Wisdom and Strength, and I for once, join them in their song.

Before I could even give the order myself, Illar had the men scrambling to prepare. Riders left Meereen with a call for the Company of the Rose and those that remained began preparing the Stranger for the voyage ahead. Ser Devan did not disappoint. His message was cryptic and intentionally vague, but it was enough for me to act. The question remained, where to land?

My eyes roamed the brief message Ser Devan sent. I knew the man better than anyone, and though he gave speeches just as Illar thought, they were barely ever on wisdom or strength. While he and I often disagreed on many things, we were of the same mind regarding wisdom, he knew how much I valued my sanity. Strength was never in question. We both had the fortitude necessary to see us through the blood and muck.

I quickly sought the pile of books in the corner of the room. Reading quickly past the first few titles, I found the one I needed. There was something familiar about Ser Devan's message, and though I could not recall what it was, I knew it was something to help me find my way home.

I'd barely had time to feel relief over my knight's safety. I did not yet know what the Stark king expected, but I knew that my knight could never steer me into my own doom, the pride of House Reyne meant far too much for him.

Wisdom and Strength, I read, House Mooton, sworn to House Tully.

I knew enough of secrecy to see the invitation beyond the words. Tywin already was, or would soon be at Harrenhal. The Riverlands were fighting on Stark's behalf, and landing in Maidenpool would give me a chance to cross the Riverlands untouched and surprise the Lannister army before they even knew I was there.

Five thousand Reynes charging down the rivers, screaming bloody murder, and singing for rains to weep over Casterly Rock, Harrenhal, and all seven of the kingdoms.

Is this what you wanted, Father? Would this make you proud? Would it change a damn thing if you were alive to see it? Would you have wept if I were to fall? Would you have been a braver man?

I pushed the books away, sending a few of them tumbling off the edge of the table. My mind was racing, and the fear of what was to come overwhelmed me, knocking me off my feet. I sat on the floor then, imagining my first real battle, the first taste of chaos and bloodshed. Lord Drumm and his men hadn't been as big of a threat. There were a handful of men in the battle for Red Rain, but thousands would die in the Riverlands, that much was a certainty.

I took a deep breath, finding comfort in the silence of my room. The door creaked open and Illar made his way in.

"Did you fall under the weight of your many worries, my lord?" His jests were lost on me as I stood, gripping the table for balance.

"I was hoping you had other things to do," I said, "Any word from our allies? From Griff?"

"The Company of the Rose has been informed of your plans. They sent word to arrange another meeting. I have a feeling that this will be the grand council to either grant or deny your request."

"Too slow," I said, reaching for my wine and hoping it would rid me of the pounding headache, "How long will it take?"

"Half a moon's turn, Roger. That's faster than most armies can come together. We were fortunate the men of the Rose were already gathered. Now you must get them to follow you, no matter the cost. Don't mistake their council for loyalty, they are sellswords, and this is a contract, one you'll be paying for in banners and land."

I nodded silently. It wasn't that long, and gods willing, Ser Devan would stall events in Westeros long enough for me to make my charge matter. His plans for the Riverlands were sound, but I had something else in mind.

"Roger," Illar called, "You can't sail until you become yourself again. The fight ahead is the one you've always wanted. Your thoughts matter now more than ever, and a doubtful commander doesn't get far in battle."

"Agreed," I said. He was right and I knew it, no matter how much I hated myself for it, "I need to speak with Griff."

Illar nodded and turned to leave, I stopped him for one last task, "They're not sellswords anymore. They're the pride of the Reynes now, see to it that they're reminded what our House words are."

"It's not difficult, Lord Roger. Here, look at the map. You have allied forces moving closer from a distance, undetected. They can adjust their course and flank your enemies whichever way you want. What do you do?"

"It depends on the battlefield, does it not? I have to know which of my enemy's flanks is most vulnerable and have my allies push down on it, or have them ride right down the center and scatter their forces."

"Admirable, Lord Roger, but that isn't the lesson here. Most armies would do just that. But it isn't always about the battlefield and its hills, it's not about your enemy's defenses either."

"Then what is it?"

"All able commanders will plan for their retreat. They will also plan for the thickest of the fighting. Once the battle reaches that moment of opportunity, they will lay all their might at your feet."

"So the smart thing to do with an undetected ally is to make them wait?"

"Precisely. You wait long enough for your enemies to taste victory. You give them their moment of opportunity. Their excitement, however brief, will be their downfall. You must always consider cutting off any chance of retreat."

"But doesn't that cost me more of my men while my allies sit and wait?"

"War is a game, and the victor shall hold all the spoils. Aye, it costs you more of your own men, but victory will be worth their lives. If you lose, they and all others die anyway."

"War is horrible, Ser Devan."

"Aye, war is horrible for the victors and the fallen alike. But which of the two would you rather be? Remember, the easiest enemy to fight is an enemy so focused on what you show them that they fail to see the truth behind the deception. War is best fought in your enemy's mind."

"War is best fought in the enemy's mind. I'll have to remember that."

"I can't leave without doing something!" I was angry, and righteously so. I was many things, a monster among them, but a traitor was not something I aspired to be. I made an oath in the mud alongside my knight and regardless of the chains on my hands, I owed the woman a warning, an answer, an explanation of where I went.

"Yes, let's all just keep armies waiting for Lord Reyne to do something about a Targaryen girl at the heart of a fecking Dothraki horde. I'm sure the Lannisters and the Starks won't mind sitting pretty until you're ready." His jests were becoming even more difficult to put up with. "We don't have time for that, we don't have time for any of it. You must sail at the head of your army or all is lost. No man will dare follow you if you don't."

"No one will dare cross me, Illar. This we both know." I sighed. Thinking gave me headaches far too often these days. "I won't go after her myself, but I do need to do something, I took an oath. Find the best among our men, those who speak the Dothraki's tongue if there are any. I'll have them go in my stead, to serve her while I take back Castamere."

"You're beginning to sound like a leader, Lord Reyne. I like it."

I waved his compliment away, reaching for Red Rain with my damaged hand and strapping it to my belt. "Have them come to me. I have a scroll of my own for the princess." I picked up the bundle of scrolls from the table and laid them in his hands. "These are for your eyes. I trust you'll follow their instructions."

I barely had time for rest, and yet always my eyes felt heavy on this side of the world.

It had a different weight to it, and the closer I was to sailing away, to Westeros and my destiny, the heavier my burden was. My responsibility, to my name and my pride, to the dreams of every Reyne that came before me, was inescapable. My legacy would be decided over the course of the coming months, and the war was inevitable.

To take what is yours, my son, you must never tire of bloodshed.

To rule Castamere and restore my House was the only thing I ever wanted, and to rip Tywin Lannister limb from limb was nothing short of my birthright. I sailed forward then, the Stranger a mighty vessel for a mighty Reyne, its prow weeping blood only I could see. We sailed that day to meet Griff and his men. I intended to speak sense to old fools who played a game of their own, to find support in the fights to come. All that remained was to know the price I had to pay.

Blessed be the fools that stand in the lion's way.