The Song of Winter
By MADJACKc1940
This work is original to GRRM, I claim no credit to his books or the show.
Note: We got past one hundred followers, thank you!
Chapter 14
Edmure Tully huddled on the riverbank, shivering, the cold morning air not helping along with his soaked clothing. Snow hadn't found its way south of the Neck yet, but it was coming soon. His whip-thin and weakened frame did little to assist in producing body heat. He could barely move his tired body that had given out just as he had paddled to shore. It had only been a few hours since he'd jumped from the Twins, he could only pray that Jon Snow would send patrols to look for him, and not prematurely give him up for dead.
He continued to shiver for what felt like hours when he felt the bump of a warm snout sniffing against his arm. Opening his barely conscious eyes, he saw the hungry gazes of several grey wolves looking back at him. He inwardly cursed his luck when from the back of the wolfpack, the monstrously huge forms of two direwolves, brown and white, came forward. Edmure blacked out as the brown one loosed a howl.
. . .
The King regarded the bronze and iron circlet presented to him with disquiet. His wife sat at his side at the high table in the late Walder Frey's regular seat in the great hall of the Twins. It was only a few hours since the man's corpse had gone cold, his head was already leering over the lands to the south from where it was mounted on the battlements. Before the King stood a mixed group of crying and glaring women and children. Around the Freys swarmed his own supporters, earnestly taking account of the spoils of one of the richest keeps in the Seven Kingdoms. Davos oversaw the accounting of the coffers, keeping a strict eye on the access to the treasury. From within he found the item of Jon's current consternation.
The fate of Robb Stark's crown had been a mystery that most hadn't taken the time to ponder in the wake of what had happened at the Red Wedding. Apparently, the old Frey bastard had kept it as a trophy. Sansa likewise stared at the circlet; it was iron inlaid with bronze. It had seven iron spikes pointed upward; runes of the First Men were inscribed upon the bronze. The King looked to the Queen, his gaze questioning.
"Wearing this would be bad luck," he whispered to her.
"Wearing it would be poetic," she replied, "Frey keeps the crown as a trophy and now you sit here in his seat, in the very room he committed his violence against our family, and his head is now fixed to the wall. Forge a new legacy for that crown, Jon."
All eyes were on the King as he made quiet conversation with the Queen. They saw him nod to her once before he placed the circlet upon the black curls of his head. He stood before the silent room, the fear of the Frey women heightened at his imposing form. His own men began to clap and cheer for the restoration of the crown and all that it signified.
"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"
The Frey women shrunk into their group. Their fates had yet to be decided from this foreign conqueror. As the cheering died off, a commotion was heard from the back of the room as a group of men dragged a litter into the hall, followed by the direwolves. Sansa rose to stand next to the King. She had pushed the hardest for patrols to be sent to scour the riverbanks downstream of the Twins. It appeared their efforts proved fruitful. The litter was brought before the royal pair. Resting on it, shrouded in blankets, was the pale, unconscious form of Edmure Tully. The Queen immediately quit the high table and rushed to her uncle's side.
"Bring him more blankets!" she ordered frantically, seeing his blue-tinged lips.
. . .
His wife smelled different. Ever since he began warging regularly each night, he noticed his sense of smell improving subtly. Sansa normally smelled of the godswood, tinged with the winter roses she liked to keep around the castle. Increasingly her scent mingled with something else he couldn't place, but as it kept getting stronger mixed with the morning vomiting that was not relenting, the King figured out the cause soon enough. He felt a fool for not calling her on it sooner. She sat on the edge of the bed they were sharing in the Twins. The castle was taken the day prior. Her breathing was heavy following her usual morning retching. Jon sat stroking her back when he finally broached the issue.
"You are carrying our child." His voice wasn't angry, but neither was his tone questioning.
Sansa stiffened under his hands that were working out the knots in her shoulders. His hands stilled, but he maintained contact. Eventually the tension left her frame, and she eased back into his chest. Her head came backwards and rested in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The King brought his arm around to embrace her.
"I am," she confirmed. Her tone was mild, slightly hesitant.
"How long have you known?"
"I had suspicions before we left Winterfell, but the prolonged lateness of my moon's blood confirmed it to me. I am sorry I didn't say anything sooner, I did not wish to stay in Winterfell while you avenged our family." His embrace tightened.
"You should not have sat a horse in your condition, Sansa. You risked yourself and the baby."
"I knew you wouldn't be happy, Jon. It was my decision. If I had lost the baby, it would have been my responsibility."
She felt his head rest against her own. "You can't keep these things from me. This isn't just about avenging the family anymore; it's about preserving what we've reclaimed. My Queen, we brought you to a battlefield in your condition…I had a right to know."
"You did," she whispered, "I am sorry, Jon. But we are here now, and we were victorious."
The King sighed. His embrace did not loosen. "I forgive you. But this was irresponsible, and you will not do such a thing again. Do you realize that if you had lost the baby, it would not have just been your responsibility, that even had I not known it would have hit me just as hard either way? I am beyond happy that we have a child coming, even in our dire circumstances between the Lannisters, the Targaryens, and the Night King. Us continuing our line and maintaining our integrity and way of life: persisting and surviving despite all our external threats is one of the greatest blows we can have against all of those who wish to take from us what we have. There are probably many who would decide not to have children because of the difficulty of our circumstances, but that is the most critical moment to subsist and multiply, and raise our children right, in the face of those who would harm them or see them twisted to their perverted ideals. This is one of the greatest responsibilities of parenthood, and why I am so thrilled that my children will have a mother so dedicated to her family."
Sansa turned in his arms and met his embrace with her own. The married pair shared a warm smile, as the King rested his hand on the Queen's stomach. "I am happy that you are happy. I am also very pleased to start having our children. And…you are right, it was irresponsible. But, I am unsure how much I regret my decision after watching you cleave Walder Frey's head from his shoulders yesterday, My King."
Jon groaned at her response but grinned at her animosity. "The baby will certainly be a fierce little wolf pup. Are you hoping for a son or daughter?"
"I will be pleased with whatever the old gods will bless us with, but I would hope for a little future King. I would like for a babe with Stark coloring who we could raise to be just like Father and you."
The King continued to hold her, stroking her arm with one hand, the other rested on her taut stomach that would soon be swollen with his child.
. . .
Edmure Tully awoke two days following his rescue from the riverbank. He laid in an unfamiliar bed, commotion in the room had roused his consciousness. He felt pain in his extremities, he weakly raised a hand before his blurry vision and noted the light bruising.
"You were nearly frostbitten, my Lord," said a voice to his side, "the pain is a good sign, if you felt nothing, we would likely have had to remove several fingers and toes."
The gaunt Lord of Riverrun squinted at the squat form of the Frey's maester mixing a tonic. The man had been sent to minister to Edmure during his confinement, ensuring that he would live to be used as a bargaining chip. His treatment at the maester's hands had never been cruel, but his presence did not confirm whether Snow had succeeded Not being in a cell was a good sign.
"Was my child found?" Edmure asked, "the babe in the barrel of ropes?"
"Your heir was found after the battle," the maester confirmed, "he was returned to his mother. The Queen has taken a liking to visiting her little cousin."
"The Queen?" Edmure queried, his question about who controlled the Twins was confirmed, but new questions arose, "I thought Ned Stark's bastard son took the Twins?"
"The King legitimized himself as a trueborn Stark through marriage to his cousin, your niece, Queen Sansa Stark," the old man explained patiently, "At her behest, His Grace sought retribution against the late Lord Walder Frey and took the Twins after somehow learning of our reduced manning."
Edmure sat up weakly, his brow creased in contemplation. "Tell me everything that's happened," he ordered. The maester did so until the Queen entered his chambers several hours later.
"Uncle!" she cried upon seeing the boney form of her mother's brother sat up in his bed. Behind the Queen strode the familiar form of his wife, Roslin Tully, whom he hadn't seen since the night of his wedding. She carried a bundle in her arms. The few times they'd brought his so-called child to see him in the dungeons, the babe had been in the arms of a servant woman.
Edmure observed his niece's joyous countenance, she had matured since he had last seen her years ago on her trip South to King's Landing with her father. She was only a few years older, but the joy on her face was not the dauntless happiness of a child, it was a warm happiness of a woman who had seen hardship and had learned to appreciate her good circumstances. She looked very much like Cat had looked after she had learned she was carrying Ned Stark's first child while her newlywed husband had immediately been drawn away to war against the Mad King.
Next, Edmure observed the expression of his wife. The woman he had been with a single time which had apparently conceived the boy she now held. She had known about the plot of the Red Wedding, of that, he was sure. He had nothing to do but think about the events of that night in great detail during his imprisonment. He recalled how she had wept and claimed it was from joy, he had thought it strange, but did not understand why until the arrows flew and Robb Stark was dead. His feelings on the woman were mixed to say the least. She was Frey ilk, but she was the mother of his legitimate heir, and she had sorrowed over what she knew was to happen, even if she had done nothing to prevent it. It was likely she could do nothing about it. She was just as much a pawn to the circumstances as he had been that night, but she was still a damned Frey…
Sansa strode forward and gently embraced the weakened Lord of Riverrun. "How are you feeling, Uncle?"
"Better than I have been as of late, certainly," he replied. His wife tensed at his words, her strained expression growing tighter. She hugged the boy closer to herself.
His niece, who looked so much like his late sister, had likely anticipated the strain between Edmure and his wife, which she was no doubt picking up on now.
"Uncle, Roslin wished to come with me to see you. You've been unconscious since our patrols found you two days ago with the direwolves."
"What does the King plan to do with the large host of Frey troops still besieging Riverrun?" Edmure asked, "No doubt the Frey women and children are to be used as bargaining chips."
Sansa paused; the suddenness of the question could be construed as hostile in the presence of Roslin. She had brought her here in the hopes of attempting to begin to reconcile the two. In truth, exactly what was to be done with the Frey forces had been worked out already, but the plans made by the counsel could not be discussed in front of Roslin.
The size of the Stark garrison holding the notoriously strong Twins would be enough to prevent the Frey forces from retaking the castle. Nor was it likely they would march hundreds of miles out of the way to surround the fortress on both sides and risk having the Starks catch the Frey forces with their backs to the North on the northern bank of the Green Fork. No, the Frey army was effectively cut off from their home source of supply. Said supplies and wealth having been fully accounted yesterday, were a huge boon to the North and put them in much less precarious financial standing.
That left the Freys with the option of a full assault from the south, which the Frey commanders would inherently know to be folly given their former ownership of the castle. It was much more likely they would attempt to raid the Riverlands as a rogue army to sustain themselves and run roughshod over the minor lords and smallfolk, unless threat against the Frey women was enough to force concessions.
This was the best option that had been discussed amongst the counsel yesterday, but Jon had been adamant that he would not actually harm the women and children. Threats of their harm as leverage would be a bluff only, a detail that was a distinct military secret. Roslin Tully's unique status was the next enigma. Had she not birthed the heir to Riverrun, it was likely Edmure Tully could have just divorced her given her family's treachery. However, birthing his legitimate heir cemented her status as the Lady of Riverrun.
"It is a delicate situation, Lord Tully," the Queen started, the official nature of the subject matter making her defer to formality.
"As you know, Lady Tully's status is also a delicate matter. We have much to discuss."
"Is she even still my wife?" Edmure began, a full year of suppressed rage surfacing, "She feasted and celebrated over the corpses of our family while I rotted in prison! How am I to be sure that that child is even mine and not some Frey gambit to grab more legitimacy? Maybe Walder, curse his name, had her with other men just to make her conceive and claim it to be mine? Maybe he did it himself, the vile old bastard! I only ever had her the one time…!"
Roslin Tully reddened at the awful insinuations. The Queen was silent. She had anticipated a lot of different reactions to the Tully woman, but she had not considered that the child could be illegitimate.
Roslin glanced to the bundle in her arms, biting her lip. She could feel her husband, justifiably enraged, staring a hole into her. "You shame me, husband," she began.
"What else would you have of me?" he yelled.
"You think that that vile old man I had to call a father was favored by his daughters?" she seethed, "He took wife after wife and treated them all equally like chattel. We were even less regarded. My sorrow at what was to happen to the First King in the North was real! My sorrow over what was to happen to your family was real. I was to join your family and then mine was commit this terrible act, and I was to be killed if I didn't go along with it. I am sorry, husband! What my family did to yours justified everything the Starks did to our men and then some. I understand your ire. I even understand you wanting to cast me aside, but our son…and I swear upon pain of the seven hells that he is your son…is innocent in this matter! Please, husband, I beg of you, not for my sake, but his…do not cast us aside." Her seething anger was overrun with tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Edmure stared into his lap, his hands fisted together. His confusion matched his rage, but his softer nature was winning over his anger to be replaced with a cold feeling.
The Queen went to the beleaguered woman. In truth, Sansa sympathized with the older Tully-by-marriage. She had been one of the first women Sansa had met in the aftermath of the battle, family being the Queen's greatest priority. The woman had been frantically concerned over her missing son, who the Queen had quickly ordered the castle searched to be found. The boy was quickly located cold and whimpering in a barrel on the ramparts, thankfully unharmed but very upset. The Queen observed the rejoining of the mother and child and knew Roslin's relief was legitimate.
She was not cold toward the babe. Sansa didn't know how she would have treated Ramsey Bolton's child had she been cursed to carry it. Would she have looked at his babe and only seen its wretched father and be reminded of her suffering at his hand, or would she have seen an innocent babe that was half hers, doomed to his circumstances? Fear of falling pregnant with Bolton's child had been her greatest nightmare at the time, and how she would respond to such a scenario was a frequent topic on her mind in those awful days.
Regardless, when the Queen had laid eyes on the boy, she was well-acquainted enough with the irrepressible Tully features to ever guess that the child was illegitimate. Between her mother and father, Sansa strongly resembled their mother, as did most of her siblings. Only Arya took more to her Stark background. Sansa knew that the Tully red hair, blue eyes, and fair skin was a dominant look in Tully descendants over foreign characteristics.
"I will talk to him," the Queen whispered to the weeping woman, "I do not doubt that your boy is my cousin."
Roslin met the Queen's sympathetic gaze. She had only met the stoic Queen two days prior, but her earnestness and candor after she met Edmure's son and her pleasure at seeing the babe well and unharmed had ingratiated Sansa to Roslin to a small degree. Despite Roslin's somewhat better position with her connections to Edmure Tully, Roslin did not have any qualms that her status was still precarious like her female kin and their young sons. Roslin's first concern was her own son, and then the fate of the rest of her family. Her treatment by the Queen heartened her. She seemed to be a very decent woman, despite her aloof façade, especially towards her own family.
The execution of Walder Frey carried mixed opinions amongst the Frey women. None were particularly sad to see his head roll, but they also knew that his head was likely the only thing keeping them safe from the greater perils of Westeros. They were sustained on Walder Frey's own cutthroat ambitions and sense of self-preservation. Also, Jon Stark had few reservations, most of which were objectively justified, about massacring the remaining Frey men. But those men were still brothers, sons, uncles and fathers who had simply carried out orders during the Red Wedding. With them gone, the fate of the Frey women was totally unknown. Roslin nodded and left with her boy. Sansa shut the door after she left and turned to her uncle.
"I had been hoping for a softer reunion," she confessed, "I had expected your recent brush with death to keep you somewhat more subdued."
"I've been staring death in the face for a whole thrice-damned year," Edmure replied, "I find my deliverance invigorating."
"Well then, Uncle, if you have the energy, then we have much to discuss regarding the state of the Riverlands and its position in Westeros."
"Shouldn't the King be here for this discussion?" he asked, curious about Ned Stark's bastard who had delivered him.
"His Grace, my husband has, in fact, already decided what is to be done. Or at least, the counsel agreed to a plan to fit the current circumstances. I am on this counsel; I can tell you of our plans."
"Oh, and the Lord of Riverrun doesn't have a say to the fate of his own realm?" her uncle asked petulantly, "You know, we bent the knee to Robb Stark and his heirs, but this is almost a new Northern Kingdom entirely."
"The circumstances of the Riverlands and Westeros at large are of interest to the King. You are acknowledged to be the rightful Lord of the Riverlands by the North…" Edmure scoffed at her words, as if such a thing was ever in question. "…but given the threats that both lands share, it was decided to make these plans in your absence, as they are likely to be seen as the most sensible by both parties."
"Oh really? And what are these plans, niece?"
"Firstly, are the Frey forces just a short march from our doorstep." Sansa continued, well versed in her understanding, "We have a plan to keep the Frey women here as hostages and order the Frey army south to join the Lannisters at their risk. The Frey men who still live and command their levies will be given possession of their youngest male kin."
"Why on earth would you give them their sons?"
"Our overall plan is to pit the Dragon Queen, who we have learned has landed on Dragonstone, against Cersei Lannister. Those two shall fight their war, which we fully expect Daenerys Targaryen to win. Our hope is that the Lannisters and their allies will be successful in significantly diminishing the Daenerys' forces, to our advantage," Sansa explained.
"You wish to kill two birds with one stone," Edmure realized shrewdly, "Let the Freys die fighting in Cersei's war."
"They are sworn to her officially, not that sworn oaths mean anything to these people! But she is their only potential ally, so we expect them to go. In the process, the fates of their male children will be out of the North's hands. We are not interested in killing children, Uncle. Neither do we particularly wish to see the Frey name continued for our own retribution. We shall keep the Frey women as collateral, we plan to tell the Frey men that if they want them, they shall have to return and get them with Cersei's forces."
"And you'll expect them to march south thinking that they will find an enraged Queen bent on revenge against the North, but instead they will find her fighting dragons and find themselves a convenient reinforcement with little excuse to refuse her."
"Yes," Sansa answered primly.
"And where do I fit into all of this?" Edmure asked finally.
"The Riverlands are the border between Stark allies and enemies," Sansa answered, "That is why it was ravaged the most in the War of Five Kings."
Edmure nodded. "The maester informed me of our very diminished strength. The minor lords have very little men to levy outside of their household guards. The small folk are scrounging for winter supplies, the lords are just as desperate."
"The Riverlands are poorer, certainly," Sansa affirmed, "We do not have official word from the minor lords yet. We sent ravens telling them of your survival and Walder Frey's execution. They had been withholding support for the Freys and the Freys were too spread thin to enforce their demands for aid and men. This was the situation on which we capitalized. We expect most of them resented the Freys as Lords Paramount, given that many Riverlands houses lost people in the Red Wedding too. But they may have just as likely been refusing aid out of destitution as well."
"And what would you have us do?"
"The North and Vale walk a fine diplomatic edge when it comes to Daenerys Targaryen. We fully expect her invasion after she has cleaned up in the South, the focus now is ensuring that she weakens herself as much as she can before doing so. If we stand out too much, our fear is that she may split her forces fighting Cersei and she could send an army supported by a dragon to our borders. We couldn't fight one off at our current strength. We do not wish to call upon the fealty of the Riverlands that was given to Robb to be transferred to Jon. Having annexed the Vale under Robyn Arryn-"
"What of Lysa? Is she not still regent?" Edmure interjected.
"Aunt Lysa was driven mad at the events surrounding her marriage to Jon Arryn and her lingering love for Petyr Baelish," Sansa answered after a pause, "Baelish was a treacherous man who we tried by combat for his murder of Aunt Lysa. He manipulated and married her in order to consolidate power for himself in the Eyrie, and then eventually threw her through the Moon Door when none were around to witness. I saw, but he threatened my life and I did not speak of it until I was safe to do so." Sansa looked down in shame.
Edmure gaped, then nodded sadly. He had expected Lysa to have hated her circumstances after Robert's Rebellion. He would not wish such a fate on his wayward sister.
"If the North does not wish for my fealty, what would you have of me?"
"We wish for you to simply exist, independent of us and the Iron Throne. Cersei will not be able to focus on you. When Daenerys comes north, she will likely come by land. When she does, kneel to her. Give her your fealty. The Riverlands is too weak to take up arms at her behest she will not be able to deny this, so it is no risk to the North. Simply focus on rebuilding and preparing for the coming winter. We plan on Keeping the Twins, however, it is too strategically important to Northern trade to not be in our hands. But other than that, the Riverlands has given enough to the North, with your freedom and restoration as Lord Paramount, House Stark considers any debt we owe to the Riverlands to be paid in full. If you are seen as too allied to us or Cersei, you risk the eventual wrath of the Dragon Queen."
"You would have me abandon you, niece?" Edmure asked sadly, "You would really expect such a thing of me?"
"In truth, Uncle," Sansa bit her lip and fiddled with her dress nervously, "I simply wish to see my family safe. The thought of the eventual war with the Dragon Queen terrifies me. If anyone is to make it through the coming wars, you likely stand the greatest chance. I want insurance that if the North falls, some of my family will live on…"
"Sansa…"
"No, Uncle Edmure," Sansa returned, "You see, even beyond the Dragon Queen, the North faces an even more perilous threat beyond the Wall."
"The wildings…?" Edmure asked, confused.
"No," Sansa answered, "Ancient enemies from children's stories. White Walkers are confirmed to exist, and their King awaits the strength to topple the Wall." Edmure looked like he was about to interject when Sansa cut him off. "It is true, Uncle! I've seen a dead man rise, we have one captured and are carting it around to raise awareness to just how dire the situation truly is. It is not some mummer's farce! Jon was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and had great experience fighting them. Heed me now, Uncle, I do not lie! Seek the opinions of others if you must, but any Northerner and many Valemen will confirm my words."
"Alright," Edmure conceded, "I'll believe you for now, but I will likely still ask around about it. It is a hard thing to believe."
"I fear for my child," Sansa continued softly. "But I believe in my husband and the fate of our family. I love our family, Uncle, every one of us. Separating was the worst decision we ever made. I love your son, too, and I implore you to reconsider your ire. He has strong Tully features; it did not cross my mind that he was anything but your son when I first laid eyes on him!"
Edmure groaned again as she brought up the subject. He looked at his niece and was again struck by how much she resembled her mother, his dear sister Catelyn. Her brow furrowed the exact same way as Cat's would when she would give him a piece of her mind. If she was not a Stark, she could have passed as a Tully without question, and deep down he knew the same of Roslin's child. He acknowledged that his judgement was clouded by his rage at Roslin's family, but he knew in his heart that the boy was very likely his own.
"I will…think on it," he confirmed. That in of itself was no small thing, because if he claimed the child, he wouldn't have a choice but to accept the mother as well. He had much to reconcile.
Sansa nodded gratefully, confident that her uncle, who was a kind man by reputation, would come around. She stepped forward and embraced him gently. Edmure weakly returned the embrace, surprised that the stoic woman before him did indeed show such tenderness to family, even though she had only met him a single time before.
"Congratulations on your child," Edmure mentioned.
Sansa pulled back and smiled at him warmly.