Chapter 1
Ned
"I see, I will give you an answer by tonight," he said and walked out of the door.
He asked a passing servant for directions to the Godswood, and he barely made it there before giving out a bellow of rage. Brandon had passed not three moons past and Hoster Goddamn Tully had the balls to ask him to marry Lady Catelyn or be denied the Riverlands' swords.
Once he had poured out his outrage, desperation, loneliness, and helplessness, then and only then did he kneel in front of the heart tree, and he convened with the Old Gods and poured out his heart.
He had thought himself a man grown but had been a naive boy thus far; mayhaps, he was one even now. His vassals were righteously angry and made all the correct noises, in loud voices where others would hear them, but their armies were slow to assemble; some needed to be cajoled, some bribed, some punished, others threatened or worse. Gods, he believed, he really did, that Northerners were a different folk, that honor and oaths meant something, that the death of their liege should be avenged would be a foregone conclusion. It was not so! A layer of his naivete peeled off. He had Martyn Cassel make a note of the men sent; once the war was over, he would go through his father's notes for the expected levies and he would mark those that had sent less.
When Hoster Goddamn Tully demanded marriages of him and Jon, another layer of his naivete peeled off. The man cared naught for his feelings, neither those of his daughter. What a fool he had been to think that Riverlands' swords would be theirs to avenge Brandon. He cursed his father then and Jon for not educating him thus; he cursed Brandon for leaving this burden to him and for his stupidity in confronting the Mad King; he cursed Lyanna, for what, he did not know yet, still he cursed. And he cursed the Targaryens; he cursed Aerys the Mad and Rhaegar the Madder, and he cursed all those that followed them.
Almost an hour of pent-up frustration and cursing later, the Quiet Wolf sat down to contemplate the events. He brought forth all the knowledge of politics and warcraft his Lord Father and Jon had imparted or tried to impart upon him. The Royal army had been slow to assemble with neither the Mad King nor the Madder Prince to lead them; that more than anything gave them a chance. If they moved swiftly, they could crush the Targaryens once and for all. For that, they needed Tully's swords, no way around that; if denied, Hoster Goddamn Tully would just stab them in the back. Every throw of the dice seemed in Tully's favor. However, he knew his Lord Father would not have given Hoster Goddam Tully this much leverage, there would be a betrothal agreement, witnessed and signed. One copy would be in Winterfell but the other would be here. He would marry Lady Catelyn but he would read the agreement first, make any changes if necessary, and then and only then would the marriage take place.
Course set, the Quiet Wolf walked out of the Godswood to give Hoster Goddamn Tully his answer.