Conversations with the not so dead
Author's Notes: Another short Tarly POV, just because, before I get back to writing the next chapter of the main story.
Rating: M; it's Game of Thrones, anything less is not Game of thrones :D
Summary: Companion piece to my other fic, the Raven's Plan. A series of conversations from minor characters perspectives.
Randyll Tarly I
He seethed and seethed as he paced. It was all he did these days. Locked away and forgotten in his own castle! Betrayed by his blood and his own bloody men!
Ser Darvon, that traitorous bastard had sold him out!
He fumed, his days were all the same. Locked away and powerless. Ignored by the guards and the servants except when they came to bring him food or clean his rooms. To add insult to injury, the only thing he had to distract himself were the books that Samwell had had put in the room. The windows of the room were barred and all he could do was just catch glimpses of the out side through small cracks.
The days had been the same till he'd glimpsed Hightower and Redwyne and Florent banners from cracks in his window but he'd heard no fighting. He'd expected they'd come for him sent by the Tyrells. Lady Olenna would be out for blood for his betrayal, but that didn't explain the Florent banners. His goodfamily had supported Stannis...why would they stand with the Tyrells close kin now? After a few days, he'd heard the commotion as they'd marched away, now accompanied by Tarly banners.
It made no sense...not that much was making sense these days.
The sound of his door opening caused him to turn around in surprise. It was too early for his meal they'd just cleaned his rooms this morning.
His surprise turned to scorn as Ser Darvon walked in.
"What do you want, traitor?" he spat angrily.
Ser Darvon returned the scornful look undaunted, "Nothing."
He frowned again till he saw Talla entering behind the traitorous knight.
"Talla." said Randyll in surprise. This was the first time he'd seen her since the training yard that maddening morning. This was the first time he'd seen any of his family since that day.
"I'm here to make sure you don't do anything rash," Ser Darvon said in the same scornful manner.
He turned to Ser Darvon tersely, "And you think I'd hurt my own daughter?" scoffed Randyll.
"You've already threatened to murder Lord Samwell. I'm not taking any chances." he retorted, questioning Randyll's honor, not budging an inch in his defiant stance.
Randyll ground his teeth at the barb. He glared back angrily.
"Thank you, Ser Darvon, I can manage this," Talla said interrupting their standoff.
Ser Darvon turned to her and bowed, "Yes, Lady Talla." He stepped back and took up a protective position by the wall. Silently watching them both.
Talla turned to her father and her eyes were hard, filled with anger, "I'm still mad at you. The only reason I'm here is because Sam asked me to tell you the news," her voice filled for contempt for him, "And mother's still hopping mad about what you tried to do."
"What news?" he asked with an arrogant sneer, getting straight to the point, ignoring what Talla said about Melessa. Despite everything, he was greatly starved for news. For anything that would explain what happened with the visiting Lords.
Talla looked him straight in the eye and said without preamble said, "Sam is Lord Paramount of the Reach now."
The sneer disappeared. He couldn't have heard Talla right. His brow furrowed in confusion, "What?"
Talla rolled her eyes insolently at him, "Sam's Lord of the Reach."
Randyll blinked, "What?"
"He's Lord of the Reach and Warden of the South," Talla repeated crossly.
Randyll found a seat and sat down heavily. What?! His fat cowardly slug of a son...Lord of the Reach?! How in the Seven Hells did that happen?
"How?" He demanded breathlessly of Talla.
She waved her hands around, "This was all a part of their plan. Including making Sam Lord of the Reach...again."
"Again?" he echoed the word in disbelief.
Talla nodded and continued, "And Dickon is betrothed to Margaery Tyrell now...oh and Ser Loras died in King's Landing. So Dickon's going to be next Lord of Highgarden as well."
He gaped for a moment, before remembering himself, Dickon...Lord of Highgarden?
"...And we're swearing fealty to the Targaryens again."
His surprise disappeared and his sneer returned, "So, my fool of son will bend the knee to a foreign whore and her savages and slaves?" he spat contemptuously.
"No, to the King in the North. Jon Snow. He's actually Jon Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen's trueborn son by Lyanna Stark," Talla added. She paused and gave him a wide smile, "He's also Sam's best friend from their time in the Night's Watch."
He was caught flat footed and it felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. Rhaegar Targaryen's...son?! Randyll stared incredulously at Talla.
Talla didn't wait for his surprise to abate, "Lord Stark hid and protected his nephew. And now we're all swearing fealty to him."
He sat very still trying to get his mind around all that Talla had just thrown at him. A Targaryen prince, hidden in Winterfell. Raised by Eddard Stark...a proper Westerosi Lord, raising the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.
Unlike Daenerys...this was actually quite...acceptable. If he wasn't imprisoned in his own castle, he could and would have backed such a King against the Baratheons. The North and Riverlands would also back such a King.
And Dickon! His pride and joy..the next Lord of Highgarden?!
The pragmatic part of his soul grudgingly whispered that Sam was doing absurdly well for their House.
"How...is all this happening...why? And why would the Tyrells allow this?!" he managed to say through his surprise as he finally found his voice again.
Talla and Ser Darvon blinked. They shared a look.
"Didn't Sam tell him?" she asked Ser Darvon.
Ser Darvon blinked again and then looked chagrined, "Uh...no he hasn't told him."
Talla let out a disgruntled sigh and turned back to her still reeling father, "The Others are real and coming to kill us all."
Randyll blinked before snorting with disdain, "The Others? That is a northern legend! It's not real!" he denied, even as a small part of him wondered about the truth of it. The Wildling girl had claimed that Sam had killed a White Walker. And now...he'd been dead and yet he was alive again...why wouldn't the monsters be real as well? Was it possible that the fat coward had actually done that?
"Whether you believe it or not, I've done what Sam asked of me. I'm leaving now," Talla said with contempt, she didn't spare her father another glance as she turned and left.
He stared after her retreating form, getting lost in his thoughts again.
His thoughts were interrupted as Ser Darvon paused at the door and turned back to look at Randyll, "Lord Randyll, Lord Samwell is a different man now. By the time of his death, Lord Samwell was very much the son you'd always wished for. He died with Heartsbane in his hand crossing sword with the Night's King himself," Ser Darvon paused and looked mournful, "He died even as I struggled to come to his side."
Randyll stared unbelieving at Ser Darvon, but the man didn't say anything else. He just turned and left, closing and locking the door behind him. He left Randyll alone with his reeling thoughts, trying to come to terms with just how much this world changed in what felt like an eyeblink.
Author's Notes: Hope you all liked this. So this is basically Sam rubbing salt into Randyll's wounded pride ;D :D As always don't forget to review! :D