A/N: There seemed to be some confusion with the last chapter, so I'll clarify here: Myrcella is staying with the Lannisters. She is not fostering with the Starks. I went back and tweaked that part to hopefully make it more clear.
Our Blades Are Sharp
By Spectre4hire
61: Never Resting
Eddard:
"I can see your concern, Lady Mormont."
He had only been in Riverrun for a few hours, but as the Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, he had a duty to his bannermen and to hear their words. The same men and women who marched from their homes, and honored their vows to House Stark to see him free.
He was sitting in his solar, across from him sat Lady Mormont. The ferocious she-bear and Lady of Bear Island could be just as intimidating in a solar than she was in the sparring yard. She was dressed for battle, and had explained her attire when she arrived to see him.
I'm sure I'll want to hit something after this, my lord, she had delivered with her sharp smile.
Better the dummies than me, he had replied, earning a laugh from her.
"Lord Cerwyn's death was tragic," Ned had been saddened at the news of Medger's fall in the Battle on the Green Fork. "I counted the man a friend and a strong ally to my family."
"Aye, he was a good man," Maege agreed readily, "And now his young son is thrust with the burden of lordship."
"Cley is able to handle the task."
"He is," Maege nodded, "Otherwise I wouldn't have agreed to the betrothal. I don't need my daughters marrying fools."
"I'm glad to hear it," He thought on Jon and the pending betrothal between himself and Lady Maege's eldest daughter and heir.
Maege sensed his dry tone and chuckled. "I could not think of a finer husband for my Dacey then Jon."
He inclined his head towards her, pleased at such praise.
The betrothal between Dacey and Jon had surprised him. It was not entirely official since it did not bear his seal of approval. However, In his reunion with Jon and listening to him, he knew he wanted this and Ned wanted Jon to have a good life and he could with Dacey. His only trepidation came with the truth that Jon carried and how the secret Ned guarded so carefully for all these years may need to be told to someone else.
Whoever held the throne would see his nephew as a threat to their reign if his secret was to come out.
Ned would never allow it. Jon was of the north. She wanted him safe, and happy. Crown or not, her dying words, and his promise resonated with him. He would not forsake his duty to his sister and her son.
Even knowing what he knew, Jon made it clear the north was his home and that's where he wanted to be. When Ned had told him the truth, he wondered how his nephew would react and worried over how such news could possibly change him. It didn't.
He's a good man, Lya. You'd be so happy and proud.
"Lord Bolton's offer is generous." The Lord of the Dreadfort had offered to take Cley as his squire. Lady Mormont was vehemently opposed to it, and had come to him to intervene.
He is my goodbrother, That had been Roose Bolton's reasoning when asked why he showed interest.
The Lord of the Dreadfort's marriage had been the most surprising thing Ned had learned since he returned. Lord Bolton for years seemed content with Domeric as his heir. He never remarried or appeared to give it any thought. And then in a turn of a few months, he suddenly had a new wife.
When Ned had broached the subject with him, he found no fault in his answer.
When your son called the banners, it seemed wise to pick a wife. My son remained unmarried and he was my only heir, and it appeared there were to be battles ahead of us.
Beneath them Ned saw what was not being said by the Lord of the Dreadfort:
If you hadn't delayed the wedding of my son and your daughter than I wouldn't have bothered.
Lady Mormont made a dismissive noise in the back of her throat. "The boy is the only one who stands between Lord Bolton and his wife's children from inheriting Castle Cerwyn."
"That is a bold observation, Maege," He cautioned her. Ned may have had some reservations about the northern lord, but that did not mean he'd accept slander to be said so brazenly.
She did not seemed chastised, but affirmed her previous remarks. "Lord Bolton is no fool, Ned. He does nothing without the utmost thought and planning."
He agreed with her on that. "Do you wish to marry them now?"
"No," Maege shook her head, "She's flowered, but Jory isn't ready to bear children yet. I will not risk her life."
Ned respected her choice. He knew others who would have no qualms in throwing their daughters into the marriage bed in hopes of securing a castle and title even at the cost of their children's lives.
"A compromise can be made. I will take the boy," Ned was not certain he'd see battle again the way his leg was healing. He could keep Cley safe, but he'd be in a position of honor that could not be seen as a slight.
"Lord Bolton could not oppose it. Cley's father died for my family. House Cerwyn is my closest bannermen as well as one of our strongest." He saw Lady Mormont's nodding in approval to his decision. "However, Lord Bolton's wife may return to her home and help run the castle if he still chooses."
Lady Mormont did not look pleased at that part, but she relented. "I suppose she'll be happier in her home than either the Dreadfort or her husband's company." She insulted casually.
He chose not to address it. "Then it is decided." Ned was thankful to have come to an agreeable solution.
"Thank you, Lord Stark," She bowed her head, "You should be proud of your boys, Ned. They led well. Your Robb will be a fine Lord of Winterfell, and a bastard or not, Jon is a good man, and I'd happily call him son."
"You are kind, Maege," He picked up the pitcher between them and refilled their glasses with ale. "On the matter of Dacey and Jon, I will approve the match." He had not considered anything different. "However, I do offer an alternative if you wish to hear it?"
"An alternative?" She looked curiously over the rim of her tankard.
He rolled out a map of the north and spread it on the table for her to see. "I was considering giving Jon rights to a castle and lordship even before I heard of this possible betrothal." With one hand, he held it in place and with the other he pointed to show what he was thanking.
"Sea Dragon Point has potential. It has the bones of a ruined castle with a strong foundation, and could be used for shipping and trading with the rich western coasts of the Westerlands and the Reach." He ignored the part of being at war with them since he was confident that would be resolved in time. "This could bring in new funds for the north. I'd name Jon, the Lord of Sea Dragon Point, and give him and Dacey the rights to a new name and house."
Another way to shield him from the intrigue of the south. Protect him with this new name and house in case his parentage was revealed. Show the Seven Kingdoms that Jon was not a threat, but a loyal bannermen for the north.
Maege did not hide her surprise at this offer. "This is unexpected, Ned," she looked down at the map, studying it, one hand scratching her chin. "I will bring the matter to Dacey since it would mean she's forsaking her inheritance."
"I understand, perhaps, Jon and Dacey can discuss it between them, but regardless of their decision, the betrothal between them is sealed," He held out his hand and Maege Mormont happily clasped it.
"You do our family a great honor, Ned."
He nodded, "My house is honored to call house Mormont an ally. We are thankful for your staunch and continued support for our family."
She took his words with a proud smile. She finished her ale in one sip after their toast. She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, and stood up. "There is one more thing, Ned," She held up a finger, "No, I'm not trying to get another betrothal." She revealed with a laugh. She then sobered and put her tankard down. She looked down at the map.
"I do not have definitive proof. Only whispers and gossip from what my daughter, Alysanne has heard back on Bear Island," she began. "I recently received her letter and she believes that Balon Greyjoy may be up to something."
"What did she hear?" He demanded at once, surely the Lord of the Iron Islands couldn't possibly be this foolish or callous?
"Ships that have taken harbor to Iron Islands or passed are not leaving," Maege said, "Again these are stories," she cautioned, "But Bear Island is missing ships that were expected to have come, but never have," She raised her eyebrows at the coincidence. "Greyjoy could be assembling his fleet. Why else would he not want visiting ships to leave? Storms cannot be the only reason why all these ships haven't reached our shores."
"Aye, it does sound suspicious," He agreed grimly.
Ned suspected Balon would want the element of surprise if he was foolish enough to launch another attack, but with the Reach and Westerlands at war with one another, could he think the risk worth it? After all, neither Renly nor Joffrey held his son...
Theon is my ward. I knew what that entailed when I accepted him.
However, even with that duty, could there not be another way given the changing circumstances of when he took Theon all those years ago? They should replace Balon with Theon. It was clear they may have erred by keeping Balon Greyjoy as the Lord of the Iron Islands if he was already planning another rebellion.
He sighed. He did not want to think about his ward. My hostage.
"Thank you, Maege," He looked up at the Lady of Bear Island. "Please keep me informed of anything else your daughter may see or hear."
"I will, Ned." She bowed her head and left with that vow.
His eyes were on the Iron Islands, but his thoughts were on the young man he watched grow up with his own children, at how Robb calls Theon, a brother. Or remembering the scared boy, who was cold and quiet when they sailed away from the Iron Islands all those years ago.
He cursed Balon for his cruelty. He'd have me kill his last son and heir.
I know my duty, but he found himself wondering what would be wiser:
Removing Balon's head or Theon's?
They've grown, he looked out at Robb, Sansa, and Jon.
He was impressed and proud at all they had accomplished in his absence.
Robb had shown himself to be able to follow him as the next Lord of Winterfell. His bannermen were complimentary about his skills and tactics. As well as his son's ability to seek and listen for advice.
It may come when I must name Robb, the Warden of the North to lead our armies. He didn't need to decide now, but he knew it had to be considered. There was peace, but they had to be prepared for war. And with his leg, he was not sure he could step onto a battlefield.
Sansa helped to make new alliances. She had won over the infamously prickly Lord Frey. She was the voice of securing a peace with the Lannisters and had been instrumental in succeeding at it.
In securing the Freys, it came with promises and betrothals. He did not blame his daughter for that, and hoped Arya would not either. Ned knew it needed his approval to be official. He was not certain he'd give it, but he'd consider it, honor demanded no less. Regardless, he would not forget how the Freys handled themselves and their vows to the Tullys.
Jon had killed the Mountain and helped to relieve the Riverlands from the reaving that the Lannisters had caused. He earned himself a knighthood for his valor and the respect of many for his actions.
Title, a betrothal, and land, He could not be happier for Jon. With the potential of an Ironborn threat looming, Ned considered the need to maybe look at other alternatives for him besides Sea Dragon Point. There were other lands to be given. He would insure promising futures for Bran and Rickon too, but those plans may need to be moved around to adapt to the war.
And now, here they all stood on the road to Riverrun waiting the reunion of nearly the rest of their family. A small party of Stark guards had ridden out with them and waited at a respectful distance behind them, but they were close enough to react if the unexpected were to happen.
When it was announced they were near, he made the easy decision that he did not want to wait, and gave orders to get his horse ready. His feelings were mutual as Sansa and Robb were just as quick to follow. Jon had been more hesitant, but that same desire was in his eyes, but he remained quiet.
Ned could not fault him for it. It hurt to see him in such a way because he knew how much Jon loved his family. However, the last time he met Lady Stark... Ned pushed that reminder away, ashamed at how his wife had treated Jon. She went further than he ever thought she could when she abandoned him in that inn. He would have words with her over that. It was unacceptable.
Sensing Jon's reservations, he assured him that he not only was welcomed to come, but was expected to. Jon smiled at that and went to join his siblings. The three of them were now talking amongst themselves while they waited. Ghost and Grey Wind had already dashed off, catching the scent of their littermates. The wolves did not have the patience or the need for decorum.
He stood, waiting and watching for any sign of the approaching small caravan from Winterfell.
Cat had seen to packing provisions from Winterfell for the wedding between Sansa and Domeric. The wedding may be hosted at Riverrun, but Cat was right to know that the burden of supplying it fell more on their families than her father's house. So she had organized for food, ale, and other supplies to be carefully packed and moved. It would put no dent into their storage as this had already been set aside.
Everything changed with Robert's arrival.
Ned sighed, bowing his head at the reminder of his friend. It had been weeks since his death, but the loss lingered with him. He knew his friend fell short of the king they all envisioned him to be after their victory on the Trident, but he was still a brother to Ned.
Oh Robert, he shook his head at the mess his friend left behind. The mistakes that were made and how the kingdoms will bleed because of it.
The Lannisters have put their claws on the Throne with no intention of releasing their hold. He would honor the peace that his son and daughter worked so hard to achieve. They tirelessly pursued it in their hope of seeing him again, and Ned would not let that be in vain. He had met with Ser Davos and convinced him to stay until after the wedding and to send a raven to Stannis on Dragonstone.
We may not be able to fight now, but we will support his claim. He had told the Onion Knight, Stannis is the rightful heir, and he would not allow Joffrey, the Lannisters, or even Renly take it.
He hoped Robert's younger brother would back down. He'd send him a letter to implore him to. There was no need for war between them. But if it were to come to that, they had to be ready.
Their peace was with the Lannisters, not with Renly. His numbers could sweep through the Crownlands and wipe away the lions. If that were to happen than the north and the Riverlands would need to be ready to defend themselves. Now that Tywin's armies have left Harrenhal, Ned would put the castle to good use. The seat was large enough to hold a sizable host and maintain it.
They're not all happy, he heard his bannermen's grumblings when he told them of their plans to back Stannis. Some thought Renly should be supported due to his numbers, and others wanted to return home, but in the end their course was decided. Edmure and the riverlords were more decisive, but his good brother assured him that he'd help to deliver the Riverlands to Stannis and follow Ned's example.
Politics, peace, and all other matters escaped him when he heard the sounds of howls. Looking up to see sprinting direwolves approaching, and there were four of them. That alone made him smile.
I've been waiting for them for months, thinking of the family he left behind at Winterfell. Of Arya and Rickon, and of the wife he had not seen since her all too brief foray into the capital.
Riders were next to be seen, and some were being urged faster than others. The direwolves lapping with the horses, Shaggydog, Nymeria, Ghost, and Grey Wind. All that was missing was Lady who was with Domeric in the Riverlands and Summer who was with Bran, acting as the Stark in Winterfell.
The thought of his Bran tempered his smile. His children had filled him in at all he missed, but it was not the same as seeing him with his own eyes. He wrote to Bran, and hoped the words on the letter could suffice for his boy until he was able to travel to Winterfell to see and hold him once more.
He is strong, Ned reminded himself. He's a Stark of Winterfell and he knows what's expected of us.
At the front of the riders, Ned was not surprised to see his scrawny, wild daughter, Arya. She was grinning as she neared. Her eyes darting between all of them as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She hastily scrambled off of her saddle as soon as her horse came to a halt.
"Father!" He felt her skinny arms wrapped tight around him.
"I'm here," He told her, "I'm here," He could feel a shudder escape her. And he felt his chest tighten knowing she was afraid she'd never see him again. He gently put his hand to her chin and guided her face so that he could see her. She looked so much like Lyanna it hurt at times. The memory of his sister and the unkind fate that came to her. Her grey eyes were swimming with tears, and her lip quivered.
He kissed her hair and her smile blossomed.
"You're hurt," she hiccuped.
"I will be alright."
She nodded, still holding him in a strong grip as if afraid he'd slip away from her.
By now, more riders were approaching, and he felt her eyes on him.
"Cat," he breathed out. He saw the emotions flicker over her face: surprise, relief, happiness. Her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. Her auburn hair blew in the wind, and atop her horse. wearing riding clothes, she couldn't have looked any more beautiful to him.
He thought of her often in the Black Cells. His heart aching that he would never get to see her again. At returning to Winterfell, seeing Robb, Jon, and Theon training with their swords, hearing Domeric play his harp for Sansa, spying Arya and Bran practicing archery, and Rickon running between them all, laughing. Or their nights where I'd drift off into sleep with Cat in my arms.
Arya's hold had loosened and she slipped away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the others didn't let Arya pick who to hug next. Robb, Jon, and Sansa were all there, holding her, laughing, comforting and talking over one another. Arya soaked it all in at being back with her brothers and sister with a wide smile.
Ned did not wait for his wife to properly dismount from her horse before his arms were around her and he was holding her. Taking her all in, her hands were scarred, but welcomed when they touched his face. Her blue eyes looking him over, a slight tremble of her lips, before Ned kissed her trying to pour all the love and longing he had for his wife into it.
She welcomed it, her hands cupping his face. The soft touch of her lips on his had a way of him forgetting all about the war, his imprisonment.
"Papa!"
Ned laughed at the sound of his youngest's voice despite what it was interrupting. He looked over his wife's shoulder to see his youngest son. In the Black cells, the cold dread in realizing Rickon would never know or remember him.
If I perished what would i have been to him? A name and a stranger, and that chilled him.
Cat had a warm smile, unbothered at being interrupted. A promising gleam in her blue eyes that they were not finished, but she still did not relinquish her hold on him.
"You are hurt," she finally commented on the cane.
"It's healing." He moved to where Rickon was wiggling and trying to break free, and Ned only had a heartbeat before Rickon's frantic hands were grabbing him. He laughed as he hoisted his son up. Restraining the wince at the pressure and weight it brought to his leg, but it was worth it at Rickon's happy squeal and with his arms wrapped around him in unbridled glee.
"Papa," he said again and again. "Papa!"
He kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair and that only further delighted Rickon, who did not look like he'd let go. And Ned knew that it wasn't just out of happiness but the fear that his son had that he'd never see him again. So he did not complain and just held him tight. Cat's arm was wrapped around him, as her other hand soothingly went up and down Rickon's back.
The wolves were running and howling around them, yipping and playing just as excited to be together. He could hear the laughter out of Arya and the others and did not need to look over to know they were in each other's arms, relishing their reunion with one another.
He kept his hold on Rickon a little while longer, but the pain in his leg was getting worse and he knew Rickon would want to see his siblings.
"Father." Robb was approaching and he was smiling. His eldest seemed to read his thoughts. "Rickon," coercing him to look up from where he had buried his face in Ned's shirt.
Rickon rewarded his brother with a bright smile. "Robb!"
Robb held up his arms and didn't need to ask before Rickon nearly jumped into them before Ned could hand him off. Robb hugged him and then held him high in the air, earning a laugh from him before Robb carried him off to where his brother and sisters were waiting for him. They welcomed him with matching fervor, taking turns holding him, and smiling to one another, talking and laughing, and it looked like none of them were ready or willing to leave each other's presence.
I had been so close to losing it all. He had accepted that dreadful truth in the Black Cells, resigned to his fate. Now, having his family together, or how Rickon and Arya reacted to seeing him again or feeling Cat's arms around him. He knew he could not be so careless again.
Theon:
The wedding, it was consuming this castle and Theon was tired of it.
Who cares about the flayed man? He wondered how many leeches Lord Bolton had brought with him. Will he make them a gift to his son and new bride? Theon nearly smiled at that.
There was a time when he thought Sansa would be given to him. Lord Stark would make the betrothal, and Theon would no longer be a hostage. I'd be his good son, I'd be one of them.
Theon finished his tankard at those thoughts, putting it down with a loud clang before getting out of his seat.
When she was a girl, he thought little of Sansa, but now he couldn't help but admire the beautiful woman she grew into. It made the thought of having the betrothal stolen from him feel like a twist of the knife.
He left the hall where in less than two days would hold the wedding feast to celebrate the union between House Stark and Bolton.
It could've been mine, if he hadn't shown up. Stark and Greyjoy, a better match, a stronger match. It seemed so obvious.
The air was crisp and the wind was soothing as Theon took it in. He had had a few drinks and was sure he looked flush. The days were boring. The nights were more fun especially when he'd find a good camp follower. The challenge was sneaking them into the castle. He knew neither Lord or Lady Stark would approve, but Theon wasn't going to camp out in tents with the soldiers. He was the Heir to the Iron Islands.
He moved towards where the northerners were camped out, outside the walls of Riverrun. Believing a good lay would serve as a good distraction.
He walked by a pair of Bolton men, who didn't spare him a second look.
Their precious heir had yet to return not that Theon cared. He never used to give him a second thought unless it was to mock him. He remembered the japes he told and the laughter it received.
It had felt good. A lesson to the new ward to know that he was a stranger. Put him in his place quickly, Theon had worked hard to earn his keep in Winterfell. He would not lose it to this Bolton. He thought it'd be easy. The family wasn't well liked, and within a year, he suspected Domeric would be gone. He'd be sent back to that dreadful castle of his where he could keep company with leeches and flayed skins.
And then everything changed. The year had come and gone and Lord Bolton and Lady Dustin had arrived, Theon had been certain it was to collect him, but it wasn't.
He would never forget the moment that followed at the opening night feast. When Lord Stark made the announcement that Domeric Bolton was to marry Sansa Stark. His wine went bitter in an instant. Seeing the two embrace to the applause of the Great Hall made his stomach turn.
I've been here for years, he frowned, I serve Lord Stark. I follow his orders. I work hard for him. Yet there was no Stark bride for me.
Domeric came in and took what should've been Theon's.
In an instant he found his position uncertain. Domeric had wedged himself into Winterfell and the Stark family and pushed Theon out to leave him struggling to try to cling on.
The Greyjoys were one of the Great Houses in Westeros. What were the Boltons? What's a flayed man compared to a kraken? He scoffed.
Yet, there was no Stark bride for him. Sansa was given to the Boltons and Arya was given to the Freys.
A fucking Frey, He seethed at the unfairness of it. He was already loyal to them, to Winterfell, but was given no reward while they had to buy the weasels loyalty.
He hated it.
The sound of laughter pulled him from his thoughts and he saw a few familiar Stark men huddled outside their tent, laughing and drinking. They waved at Theon, and he waved back, recognizing them over the last few months on the road.
I'm surrounded by wolves, he moved past them, it used to annoy him, but now, he was not so sure. I want to join them, he confessed, but I don't know how.
He wanted to say he did not want it. He did not need it. That he was a Greyjoy, a man of the Iron Islands but buried deep in his heart he yearned for any way to tighten the tether between Stark and him.
You're a kraken not a wolf.
The voice was sharp and cruel and sounded like his father. He straightened up as if expecting his father to appear to scold and hit him. The shade of Balon Greyjoy did not appear, but Theon was certain he could feel his father's disgust at this pitiful display.
It takes a kraken to rule the Iron Islands not a wolf. Which are you?
The Maester:
Not now.
His cane shook in his grip, and he slowly leaned to the side of the corridor in an effort to steady himself and not fall. He barely reached the wall when a lance of pain went through him.
He gasped. His breathing haggard, and he blinked back tears at the immense affliction that wrought through his body. He felt his hands shake as he tried to keep himself from falling as the waves of torment went over him. The agony felt like hours but was truly only a few heartbeats. It rescinded with a lingering discomfort in his gut, and then it was over.
Uthor let loose a tired breath as he tried to compose himself in the corridor of Riverrun castle. Thankfully, the way was empty and no one bore witness to his pain.
Let me watch them wed, let me see this through.
He hesitantly pushed himself off of the wall that had been supporting him. His cane handled some of his weight, and he slowly tested his legs to see if there was any residue of the affliction. The first were gingerly and he was thankful when no discomfort reared itself.
Satisfied, he took a few more steps, and went about his way. He could not turn back and return to his room. He had been summoned by Lord Bolton, and he made an oath to serve the Dreadfort.
They'll be sporadic, and can happen at anytime. Wolkan had warned him the night before after their most recent conversation.
Uthor had already known that. It was his mind that he was worried about. So far it remained spared from this ordeal, but he knew such luck would not last. Given the recent attacks, he feared that it wouldn't be long before the last bastion of his health was under siege by this sickness.
I can make it, he hobbled forward towards his destination. With Lord Domeric's return to Riverrun last night, Lord Bolton and Stark agreed for the wedding to take place tomorrow evening in the Riverrun Godswood.
Please, let me make it.
He turned the corner to see Bolton guards standing by the door. They watched him with mute indifference, and when Uthor was near enough, one opened the door silently. The only acknowledgement of his presence. He thanked them and tried to straighten himself up before passing through the doorway.
Ahead of him at a nearly filled table, sat the lords and ladies who controlled the Rills, Barrowton, and the Dreadfort with new ties to House Cerwyn and soon House Stark.
At the end of the table sat the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton. To his left sat his wife, the Lady Jonelle, formerly of House Cerwyn. Lady Jonelle continued to wear black in mourning for her father who fell at the Battle of the Green Fork.
Domeric Bolton was dressed in his family's colors: dark pinks and pale reds, with the flayed man being prominent in his attire. When he turned to Uthor he gave him a friendly smile, "Maester Uthor," he greeted.
That was when Lord Bolton turned to him. His pale eyes undecipherable as they looked him over. "You may join us."
"Thank you, my lord," Uthor bowed his head, and went to the empty seat beside Lady Jonelle. As he hobbled he could feel the cold stare of Lady Dustin. He imagined she was probably smirking at his pain. Amused at the wounded grey rat.
He tried not to show any of it, but when he overextended his leg to try to make it the table quicker, a surge of pain went up his side that nearly caused him to hiss. He bit his lip to stop it, and grimaced as he half fell into his seat. The links of his maester's chain rattled noisily.
"Uthor?" Domeric was quick to notice. "Shall I fetch Maester Wolkan?"
"I am fine," He was moved at his concern. "You have my thanks," he nodded in his direction to try to assuage him. "The afflictions of an aging man."
Domeric's dark eyes studied him, as undecipherable as his father's pale ones. He seemed satisfied and nodded.
"What good is an adviser who's late?" Lady Dustin questioned the table. "When he misses the council."
"I am sorry, my lord," He directed his apology to Lord Bolton who took in the scene before him with a slight upturn of his lips.
"You've missed nothing, but Lord Rodrik speak of my son's newly acquired zorse."
Lord Rodrik Ryswell who sat across from Lord Bolton was an old man whose hair had gone white. He remained spry despite his age. This was the man that had planted and plotted the powerful alliance that sat at this table linking the Rills with Barrowton, and the Dreadfort.
He had nearly brought in Winterfell if not for Lord Rickard Stark's southern distractions. It would be his grandson who'd see the Starks into the fold with Domeric marrying Lord Stark's eldest daughter. Uthor knew the old man was pleased at the legacy he would leave behind.
"It is fascinating," Lord Rodrik defended his interest. "Its coloring, its stamina, its durability," he listed off the beasts merits. "You must bring it to the Rills, Domeric, I insist."
Domeric gave his grandfather a small smile. "I shall, I was thinking of letting it stay during the winter."
Uthor half listened to Lord Rodrik's hearty approval of such an idea when the servant came forward with his food. It was a plate of baked bread, eggs, a rasher of bacon, and some wine from the Riverlands. He had just taken his first bite into the warm bread before he was pulled into the conversation.
"What say you Uthor on how my nephew handled the Mummers?" Lady Dustin asked, "Lord Stark made his opinion clear."
When Domeric arrived after his success against the Mummers, the smallfolk cheered and applauded the Dreadfort heir. He then presented several heads of the Bloody Mummers to Ser Edmure, who thanked his future nephew. He then ordered the heads to be put on display as a warning to those who'd attack Tully lands.
While the smallfolk and the riverlords were pleased of the sellswords' demise, some were not as enthused in how it was handled. The most notable being Lord Stark.
"I was there, my lady," Uthor broke his silence. "I never spoke out of Lord Domeric's judgment, and thought it sound given the nature of those he was hunting."
"The matter has been settled," Domeric spoke in a tone that hid his feelings on the subject. "Let it rest."
A flicker of dismay passed over her face before it hardened. "Lord Stark should have a care," She warned, "He should be pleased that you saw justice done on his wife's lands." Her lips curved in a smirk when she added, "I've heard some of the Riverlords are not at all happy at their liege lord's daughter. Her actions dragged the Riverlands into a war that left their lands to be burned and pillaged."
"The trout thought it could catch a lion." His chuckle was softer than a breath, "Instead it found itself in the lion's jaws."
Lord Domeric did not try to defend his future good mother from his father. He sat there in silence.
Lady Dustin had no such problems. She showed her amusement with a chuckle as did her father. Lady Jonelle gave one of her smiles towards her husband.
"Lord Karstark is trying to back out of his betrothal with the Hornwoods," Rodrik observed, somberly, pushing forward to what he considered more pressing concerns. "Now that the betrothal between the Iron Throne and Winterfell is broken."
"He made that betrothal in response to ours," Lord Bolton noted, sounding uninterested at the potential challenge it could have on his power.
It had been made in the wake of the king's visit to Winterfell when Lord Stark was named the Hand of the King and betrothed his son and heir to the Princess Myrcella. This was the Karstarks and Hornwoods attempt at correcting the threatening shift in power that their lands would face now that the Boltons would receive with a Stark bride.
"Now, he wants Winterfell," Rodrik pointed out.
"Then he should've had more daughters," Lady Dustin said dryly.
A flickering smile passed over the Lord of the Dreadfort's face. "They feel threatened. They fear us because we do not need Winterfell to be strong. And now we have an alliance with the Starks." He explained calmly. "It should concern them."
"Lord Bolton," A guard interrupted them. "The Lady Sansa Stark is here."
"She may come in," Domeric's demeanor changed in an instant.
The guard did not move until Lord Bolton's following nod. He then stepped away to allow Sansa Stark to enter, where she was greeted by Domeric. Her direwolf was not with her.
"My lady," he kissed her cheek. "This is a surprise."
"I hoped to break my fast with you," She turned to the table that was watching her in varying degrees of silent interest. "We are to be family come tomorrow."
"Your presence would be most welcomed, Lady Sansa," Lord Bolton welcomed her in his whispery voice.
"You have not had the pleasure of meeting my grandfather, have you, my lady?"
"I have not," she turned in the direction of Lord Rodrik, who got out of his seat at her arrival.
"My lady you are lovelier than a vision."
He speaks truly, Uthor agreed. She was tall with a womanly figure with good hips, She'll birth many sons and daughters for House Bolton, he was certain. Especially if her mother was any indication of the girl's fertility. He was pleased to know that the Bolton line would be so secured moving forward even if he was not there to see it.
"You are kind, my lord," She deflected his words with a polished curtsy.
"You must sit beside me," He held out his arm. "My grandson will have your loveliness the rest of his life."
"I would be honored," She took his hand, but not before looking back at her betrothed with an apologetic smile which he returned.
"You must forgive my sons for not attending this morning," Rodrik waved his hand in annoyance at his sons, who were known for their quarrelsome nature. "They are certainly in some stupor that we do not need to discuss."
In Uthor's mind, she was not missing much by their absence. Still, the Lady Sansa accepted the absence of her future uncles with the expected courtesies.
"I've been looking forward to meeting you, my lord," She said while he guided her to the empty seat beside him and across from his daughter. "Domeric speaks so well of you and of your home."
"My grandson has a sharp mind, so of course he is right in his observations on me," Rodrik flashed Domeric a grin. His jest earning a laugh from the betrothed couple. "He speaks truly of the Rills too. Looking out to see our herds running through the wandering green hills or riding and splashing through the clear water streams." His tone was wistful, reflecting of his land's beauty, "Forgive me, I am not one with words, only your eyes could truly appreciate the grandeur of it."
"I hope to see it one day."
"You are invited whenever you desire, my lady," He assured her. "Your children will not just be Starks and Boltons, but Ryswells too. The Rills will call to them."
Uthor glanced to see Lord Bolton watching the ensuing conversation. His pale eyes flicking to one or another, but his face betrayed neither his thoughts or his feelings. He remained quiet, but that did not mean he was any less engaged to those who were speaking. No, in his silence, he watched and thought on what was being said or who was saying it or how it was said. Taking it all in, measuring to see what would be useful.
To him, words were golden dragons to be stored and used at a later time for his benefit. He risked nothing by just listening and gained everything for it.
"The wedding is finally upon us," Lady Dustin did not hide her disdain for the delays, "And there is a peace between the lion and the wolf. Surely that will mean you will soon travel to the Dreadfort," Her eyes sweeping from her nephew to her future niece where they lingered, "Are you nervous, Dear?"
Sansa did not answer right away. She finished the bacon she had been daintily nibbling on. "I have nothing to be nervous about, Aunt Barbrey." The girl sat tall and poised in her seat, showing a polite smile at Lady Dustin's stare at the use of Aunt.
"I will be no stranger to the castle, I will be the Lady of the Dreadfort one day," She explained confidently, "My children will rule and inherit it after us. I belong there."
"Well said," Lord Bolton's praise was voiced quietly, but the look in his pale eyes was more telling.
"Indeed," Lady Dustin agreed, looking impressed at how her future niece handled herself. She may be prejudicial to the girl's family, but it did not blind her in applauding the girl's response.
"Are you not surprised she was able to forge a peace with the lions?" There was unabashed pride in Domeric's tone and expression for what his betrothed accomplished. "I leave Riverrun and we are at war, only for me to return to find peace," he shook his head in awe. "Remarkable, my lady," he praised her, "Simply remarkable."
How he said it, made it clear it wasn't just her actions that he found remarkable.
The moment between them did not last as Lord Bolton's spidery voice spread across the table.
"After this meal, Uthor, I expect you to accompany me, my wife too," he turned his head only the slightest in her direction.
"Of course, my lord," Uthor replied.
"I wish to purge the bad blood before my son's wedding." His pale eyes flicked over to Domeric, "Will you partake in a leeching, Domeric?"
"I will pass, Father," He declined stiffly.
"A pity," Lord Bolton did not hide his disappointment.
"Thank you, Father, for your concern," Domeric's voice was as hard as iron. He then turned to his betrothed, where his expression and tone softened, "My lady?"
She understood, rising from her seat. "I should be going," She apologized with a look. "I have some finishing touches I must make."
"It's been an honor, my dear," Rodrik Ryswell kissed her hand. "My daughter, Barbrey will be along to visit you and your mother to see if she can help in anyway."
Lady Dustin's mouth pursed. "I will," she said it in a way that made it difficult to tell if she was asking or confirming. "If that will not be a bother?"
"It will not be," Sansa turned to take her betrothed's hand and moved to depart. "Lord Bolton," she curtseyed to him. "Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to join you this morning."
Lord Bolton took in her courtesy with a smile. "You are welcome, my lady." His pale eyes moved between his son and her. "The first of many meals we shall have together once you become my good daughter."
"Father," Domeric dipped his head to him.
"Son," He then watched them depart without reaction.
By tomorrow night, they'll be Lord and Lady Bolton. The bright future for the Dreadfort.
That allowed Uthor to finish his meal with a growing sense of satisfaction, knowing the part he played to make it possible.
A/N: Lord of Sea Dragon Point? Bear Island? Another castle in the north? I'll hear them out when it comes to Jon and Dacey's future.
We'll get more of Theon in the sequel, but thought this a good spot to show the first steps of his path moving forward.
For my own curiosity, which perspective do you guys want the wedding ceremony between Domeric and Sansa to be in? I have my own plans and stuff already written, but I'm interested in hearing from you.
Thanks for all your wonderful support,
-Spectre4hire