From his honoured place to the left of the bride, Hoster Tully could not stop smiling. The day had finally come when his beloved Cat had wed the king. It was too good to be true; his own daughter queen! He was thrilled when Lord Rickard Stark offered his heir Lord Brandon, as husband for his Cat. Yes the North would be cold, but House Stark was an influential and powerful Great House. With his House united with House Stark, the Riverlands could be more protected; the Riverlands had an unfortunate history of serving as battlefields.
"A toast! To Their Graces King Robert and Queen Catelyn!"
Hoster raised his jewelled cup and drank deeply. Ahh, Arbor gold. He looked at his radiant daughter and smiled. "Queen Cat." He sipped again. I should have betrothed Lysa to one of the Redwyne twins, he thought. An endless supply of Arbor gold would be an excellent clause in the marriage contract. It would've occurred if the Blackfish did as he was told and married Bethany Redwyne years ago. Thinking of his stubborn brother darkened his mood.
He shook his brother from his mind. It would do him no good to brood over him. Today was Cat's day. Looking prettier than ever, Cat's handmaids had left her auburn hair flowing down her back, decorated with nothing but the silver tiara Robert gave her as one of three betrothal gifts. Matching the belt of rubies and pearls, Cat wore a necklace of rubies as dark and murky as the red in House Tully's sigil and pearls as snowy as the white field of House Stark's sigil. She had donned a dark blue gown lined with red Myrish lace and after the ceremony, the Baratheon cloak of yellow velvet and a stag sewed from black onyxes. Sweet Queen Cat was a splendid sight. Robert would be a fool if he did not find her beautiful enough to bed.
Like every other lord and lady, Hoster had heard rumours of Robert's large appetite for women. It was further confirmed when he spoke to Jon Arryn who told him of the bastard girl Robert left in the Vale. Hoster himself had never lain with another woman apart from his beloved Minisa; siring bastards went against his House Words. Family, Duty, Honour. He hoped Robert's mountain of bastards would cease upon his marriage to Cat. Mayhaps Eddard Stark would've been a better choice as husband, Hoster mused. He is certainly an honourable man and one of good morals. If he did not have those grey eyes or bear the name Stark, I would have mistaken him for an Arryn! Ned Stark certainly learnt from his foster father. A pity King Robert did not.
Smacking his lips after draining his cup of Arbor gold, Hoster speared a slice of roasted goose with his knife and began chewing it as he watched Robert roar with appreciation at the suckling pig drenched in plum sauce, an apple clenched in its jaws. "A Fossoway has found herself in the grip of a Crakehall!" he heard the king boom. At the trestle tables below, both the Crakehalls of Crakehall and the red apple Fossoways of Cider Hall stiffened. Robert only snorted louder, slapping silent Stannis on the back. In cruel – and rather poor – jest, one of the servants had placed onion pie in front of him.
"Lord Tully, how are you finding the roasted goose?"
"Tender enough," Hoster answered, nodding at Lord Jon Arryn who sat on Edmure's empty seat. After nibbling on a fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs and spooning up some creamy chestnut soup, Edmure had went off to dance with a pretty Tyrell maiden in green. A Tyrell would be an excellent choice of wife for my son. Mace Tyrell had no daughters of yet; Edmure's dance partner must be one of his cousins or nieces. The Tyrells prosper in radiance and mass like the many roses in Highgarden. "Are you enjoying the feast, Lord Arryn?" he inquired, stabbing another piece of roasted goose.
"It is an admirable way to unite Robert with his lords," Jon Arryn replied, his blue eyes scanning the lower tables like a hawk – or more a falcon befitting his House sigil. "Rather than bloodshed, Robert dines with his nobles at a wedding feast, illuminating peace between the houses great and small. A pity the Prince of Dorne refused to come." He sighed gloomily. "I hope I will survive the journey to Dorne and back. I fear I am not getting any younger." A spark of apprehension appeared in his eyes. "It is not too late-"
"No," Hoster cut through bluntly like a knife through freshly churned butter. "I thought we have already discussed this, Lord Arryn. You swore a vow by the old gods and the new that you will wed my Lysa. She is a beautiful and sweet girl, a little shy, but fertile. Is that not what you need, Lord Arryn? A young, fertile wife to bear you the much-needed sons?"
"Lord Tully…do you not wish to wed your daughter to a more handsome and younger man than I? What about ah, Lord Stannis Baratheon? He is now the Lord of Storm's End and the king's brother. Your House will be forever united with House Baratheon; one daughter wedded to the king, the other wedded to his current heir presumptive."
"The Lannisters may think that a wonderful idea, but I do not. Cat's wedding secured an alliance between the Riverlands and King's Landing. Strategically an alliance with the Westerlands would be beneficial – it would have occurred if Ser Jaime Lannister did not join the bloody Kingsguard – but my daughter needs a whole man as husband, not a dwarf."
"What about-"
"Edmure and Cersei? I rejected the dwarf as husband for my daughter; Tywin Lannister refused Cersei for my son." His goblet refilled, he drank more and went on, "That is not the point, Lord Arryn. We agreed that once Robert is king, your betrothal to Lysa will be announced and you will wed her after Robert wedded Catelyn." He nodded at Robert kissing a happy Catelyn's hand. "They are wedded and will soon be bedded. What are your House words again, Lord Arryn? As High As Honour. Will you break your word, my lord?"
"My lord…why are you so insistent on the match? Surely there are other lords more than willing to wed a daughter of Riverrun."
Hoster stood up. "Lord Arryn, please come for a walk with me." Jon obliged and the two leisurely strolled out of the Great Hall and towards the courtyard. "No one will wed Lysa." Hoster lowered his voice. "There was a...ah, situation involving Lysa and my former ward, the Baelish boy."
"Baelish? He is from the Fingers is he not?"
"Yes, yes. I befriended the boy's father in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and foolishly decided to foster the boy in Riverrun alongside my own children. It will come as no surprise to you my lord, if I tell you he impregnated Lysa. I promptly sent him away and made Lysa drink moon tea, but with the loss of maidenhead, I will no longer be able to find her a good match.
"I regret not informing you this earlier, but as you are quite reluctant now, I thought it best to tell you. I trust you are a man of your word and can keep this a secret between us?"
The king's Hand nodded slowly. "I cannot go back on my word," he admitted with a sigh. "Are you certain you wish for your daughter to wed me, Lord Tully? I have the power to find her a more suitable match now I am Hand of the King. In a matter of days, I can arrange for Lady Lysa to marry a good man, perhaps one of the Tyrells or a Lannister, or maybe even to Lord Stark's younger brother. You desired for an alliance with the North, did you not? I can easily arrange it if you still wish it, my lord."
"You are a good man, Lord Arryn." Wedding you, Lysa will be the Lady of the Eyrie; wedding Benjen Stark, she will be nothing but the wife of Lord Stark's only surviving, younger brother.
"I cannot change your mind?" Lord Arryn sounded beaten.
Hoster shook his head firmly. "My lord, I will be more than honoured to have you as my good-son and ally. I have refused the offers from a good many of my lord bannermen including Lords Blackwood and Bracken."
Jon Arryn sighed again. "So be it, Lord Tully. With your consent, I will marry your daughter two days before I depart for Dorne."
Hoster stroked his brown-reddish beard thoughtfully as he listened to Lord Leyton Hightower suggest further points to Edmure and his daughter Lady Leyla Hightower's pending marriage contract. The Hightowers were one of the oldest and proudest of the Great Houses; Edmure was fortunate to find himself soon-to-be betrothed to one.
"Two new trading routes between Oldtown and the Riverlands will be created after Ser Edmure and Leyla wed," decided Lord Leyton, wiping his mouth with a cloth. "Furthermore, their wedding will be held here."
"Here?" Hoster arched an eyebrow. "Why not at Riverrun or Oldtown? I have always wanted to visit Oldtown one day, and what better occasion than to go and witness my heir's wedding to your daughter?"
Leyton frowned and shrugged. "I don't see why not. Oldtown it is. I suppose I can arrange for Ser Edmure and Leyla to wed in the Starry Sept. Perhaps after they wed, they can spend a few days in Highgarden? My daughter Alerie is the wife of Lord Tyrell. I'm confident she will be more than willing to host her sister and good-brother in Highgarden for a couple of days. Whilst they dwell there, I am more than happy to arrange for one my sons to show you around Oldtown and our family seat, the Hightower. Maybe in a year or two, I will pay a visit to the Riverlands in return."
"Fair enough. I am quite eager to see the Starry Sept."
"A splendid sight, Lord Tully. A splendid sight. Before you ask my lord, I can assure you Leyla is a woman grown and ripe to bear children." He smiled broadly at Hoster. "It won't be long before there is a school of little Tullys swimming in Riverrun, eh? All as handsome and lovely as your son and daughters." He nodded at Cat discreetly. "Very beautiful."
"And I am assured of your military support if the need of it arises?"
"Yes, as I am assured of yours?"
Hoster nodded. "Excellent. Now all we need to seal our alliance is to wed my son and your daughter. Will there be anything else, Lord Hightower?"
"One small matter…"
"Yes?"
"Perhaps when you have a litter of grandsons, you will consent for one to be trained as a maester in Oldtown? By then, I will be old and longing to see a Tully grandson near me."
"That will be up to the child, Lord Hightower. I cannot promise an unborn child to be a maester of yet. What if Lady Leyla only gives Edmure one son like my late wife gave me? However, I will consider one of my future grandsons to squire for your heir when the time comes."
Leyton Hightower nodded in agreement. "Very well." He raised his goblet and toasted. "May the gods bless our alliance!" Hoster clinked goblets with him and both men drank deeply.
"Is the Lady Leyla here at court?" inquired Hoster. Slight disappointment bit him as Leyton shook his head. "King's Landing is not safe for maidens. She is in the Hightower with her younger sisters."
"Very wise." Who will be foolish enough to bed your daughter? The fool will find the Wall merciful compared to being gelded. "Come to Riverrun with your family after the king's wedding celebrations," he suggested hopefully. "Edmure and Lady Leyla will have an opportunity to meet and converse with each other before they wed. Chaperoned of course." Leyton frowned. "They will still wed on the agreed day," Hoster added hastily, "I am not one to break my word. I just thought it would be nice for Edmure and your daughter to spend time together in Riverrun before their wedding. Lady Leyla will reside in Riverrun after she weds Edmure; why not show her around now? I believe Lady Leyla will grow to love Riverrun as a home soon enough."
"I suppose they should have a chance to meet," Leyton ceded. "I'll send a raven to the Hightower tomorrow morning and have my son Garth escort Leyla here with a number of my household knights. After a few days respite, if you agree, we all leave for Riverrun, including my heir, Baelor, and his wife Rhonda Rowan. My heir and good-daughter are dancing over there." He nodded at a tall, relatively handsome man dancing gracefully with a pretty girl in silvery grey. "Baelor was once considered a suitor to Princess Elia of Dorne," he said suddenly. "She – and her brother, the Red Viper – visited Oldtown and I heard rumours that Elia of Dorne liked Baelor the best from her list of suitors." He quietened. "I doubt we would be celebrating King Robert's wedding if Elia Martell married Baelor. She would still be alive and safe in the Hightower."
Hoster nodded uncomfortably. "My uncle, the White Bull, would be alive and well too," Leyton went on, gulping down more Arbor gold.
"I would not say that aloud, my lord," Hoster warned him cautiously. "It was only recently that we fought on opposite sides in a war. Edmure and Lady Leyla's betrothal is only a mere step towards reinstating peace in the Seven Kingdoms, like how Lord Stark wedded Lady Ashara Dayne."
"Yes, yes. I am not a child, Lord Tully!" Lord Leyton had clearly drank too much wine and the feast was not over yet. "Peace! That is what we want!" He waved his hand and a servant hurriedly refilled his cup.
"Have you tried these lemon cakes, Lord Hightower?" Hoster pushed a plate of lemon cakes towards him. Over the years, he had developed a sweet tooth and a fondness for lemon cakes. It was Minisa's favourite, he reminisced. She craved them when she was pregnant with little Cat…and Lysa. Lemon cakes are Lysa's favourite snack as well. Earlier that day, he caught sight of Lysa chewing a lemon cake with another two on her plate. Once, he would chide her; he could not bear reprimanding her anymore.
Leyton Hightower chuckled. "You clearly have not tasted the lemon cakes at Highgarden, Lord Tully. The Queen of Thorns herself appreciates them – not as much as her love for cheese of course! She is one cunning woman, that Lady Olenna. With a sharp tongue and wicked wit as quick as lightning…" He chortled, scoffing down his second lemon cake. "Before you can even speak, she will have you knocked down speechless! You should meet the Lady Olenna one day, Lord Tully." He reached for a fruit tart in front of him. "Mmm! Apricot! This must be the Tyrells' gift to the king."
"The Tyrells gifted the king and queen with over a dozen carts of fruit and two white steeds with golden bridles."
"You have a fine memory, my lord!"
They received the gifts earlier today, Lord Hightower. It isn't exactly difficult to remember them. Hoster himself had bequeathed Robert and Catelyn with a set of lacquer brown bows and two quivers filled with a score of goose-feather fletched arrows each. Cat had never hunted, but Robert did. "I will use this bow in the next royal hunt!" Robert had declared exuberantly. "I have never been gifted with a bow with such brilliant colour and grip!" He had said that after the disgraced Darrys presented him with a fine crossbow.
"It seems my lady wife is bored," remarked Leyton, wiping his mouth with a linen cloth and standing up. "I must remedy that with a dance! Lord Tully." He nodded at Hoster. "I am relieved we concluded our alliance so quickly. We will speak again tomorrow, yes? Again, congratulations on your daughter's wedding to the king." He smiled and headed off to find his disinterested wife, the Lady Rhea Florent. Lady Rhea was Leyton's fourth wife.
"Milord, Lord Frey wishes to speak to you."
Hoster snorted. "The Late Lord Frey." It was astonishing the old and repulsive Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing, could manage to travel to King's Landing without dying on the way. Isn't Lord Walder Frey confined to a chair? By the Seven! Old Frey was a man of thirty when he himself was born. Hoster sighed wearily. "Oh very well." Old Frey probably wants to wed one of his daughters or granddaughters to Edmure…again. Out of respect for Lord Walder's old age and frailness, Hoster headed to the trestle table occupied by his bannermen and their families. Half of them were weasel-faced Freys.
"Lord Tully!" said Walder Frey, grinning like a weasel when he saw Hoster. He turned to the Frey beside him – his heir? – and barked. "Move! Lord Tully needs a seat!" The Frey knight scrambled to his feet, spilling wine on his grey linen tunic emblazoned with the two blue towers of Frey. "Fool," Lord Frey grumbled. He gave Hoster a toothless smirk. "Please sit, Lord Tully!"
Giving him a suspicious look, Hoster sat down, careful not to touch the spilled wine. "A servant said you wished to speak to me," he said stiffly. "I am here. What do you want to talk to me about?"
"Very blunt are you not? Heh." Old Walder glugged down half a cup of wine as red as blood. He licked his lips with his small and pink bud of a tongue. Hoster suppressed a shudder. "Heh," Walder Frey said again, his thin, wrinkly fingers snatching the biscuit at the top of a mountain of sweet biscuits. Hoster wondered how Walder would eat it with his meagre number of remaining teeth. "My wife gifted me with another red-faced, squalling bundle of heh, joy last week," he said, his other hand grabbing his wine cup. "A girl this time. Named Roslin. Only a few hours later, my wife died. Heh. The maester said she died from complications in childbirth. Heh. What can you expect from a Rosby?"
"My condolences on your wife's death."
"Heh." The old weasel eyed him with distrust for a minute before glancing away, satisfied with Hoster's genuine response. "What am I to do with another daughter?" he continued grumpily. "I already have a good many daughters and granddaughters, good-daughters and good-granddaughters…"
"Edmure is already affianced," Hoster interrupted brusquely.
Walder Frey narrowed his eyes. "Eh?" He scoffed. "A noblewoman of a Great House no doubt, Lord Tully."
"Lady Leyla Hightower."
"Heh. Well I have two daughters around his age: Morya and Tyta." Walder nodded at two surprisingly comely girls sitting a few seats away from him. "Why not allow Ser Edmure to decide for himself?" he suggested. "My daughters are fair to look upon and virtuous. Heh." Noticing his doubtful expression, old Frey snapped. "Their mother was a Blackwood! Heh."
You arrived after the Battle of the Trident was won; you ignored a dozen of my summons; and you are downright unpleasant. As long as I live, no Tully will wed one of your offspring. Hoster pondered if the Late Lord Walder Frey's greatest achievement was wedding his second son Ser Emmon, to Lady Genna Lannister, a shapely woman with a shrewd mind. At one stage Hoster's father had thought to wed Hoster to Lady Genna…but for once, Walder Frey was first to suggest the match of Emmon Frey and Genna Lannister. "Peace with our enemies is most vital at the moment," Hoster said carefully. Despite being infirm and old, Lord Walder was still as prickly as a bush of thorns. "We must have peace with our once-enemies," he said again, "and what better way than through marriage? We fought against the Hightowers; a Tully of Riverrun and a Hightower of Oldtown wed in matrimony will be better for the good of the Riverlands than a Tully and a Frey of the Crossing."
"Heh," huffed Walder Frey. "I heard the Blackfish will a knight of King Robert's Kingsguard. Heh. He will be in need of squires and pages, will he not? My sons Jammos and Whalen are of age to be squires. Perhaps the Blackfish will be good enough to take them on?"
"You will have to ask the Blackfish yourself." He was tempted to finish his sentence with a heh. He thought it prudent not to mention the Blackfish had already conceded to squire a Vance. Then again, Blind Norbert Vance was a good friend of the Blackfish's during their youth and he may have agreed to squire one of Blind Norbert's younger sons as a personal favour.
Before old Walder Frey could respond, Robert boomed drunkenly. "TIME FOR THE BEDDING!" A large number of lords roared approvingly in response and moved like a tide towards a giggling Catelyn. Simultaneously, the ladies swarmed Robert like locusts. The lords and ladies lifted the king and queen and headed to their chamber, laughing and mentioning bawdy japes whilst stripping Robert and Cat of their clothes.
"Ooh, the king will enjoy her very much," snickered Lord Walder, forgetting for a moment he was speaking to Hoster. "A pair of fine teats…heh."
I would've written quicker, but I had to study for exams :( I thought it would be nice to skip to Robert and Catelyn's wedding feast in Hoster Tully's POV because well, Ned's back in King's Landing, and if I kept focusing on the Targaryen issues, the plot wouldn't be exactly going anywhere. I greatly enjoyed writing the conversation between Hoster and Walder Frey. I hope you enjoy reading it too :) For those who are confused, in this AU version, Ned agreed to only a betrothal with Catelyn as Hoster can arrange a better match for her if Ned dies in war and she is still a maiden.
