Title Quote:
"I have always done my duty, she thought. Perhaps that was why her lord father had always cherished her best of all his children. Her two older brothers had both died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match."
Catelyn Stark, A Clash of Kings
When news had come that Rickard Stark was returning from King's Landing to Riverrun, alive and with his son in tow, her husband Walter had raved that he could not be bothered to return to his liege's keep again. Who knew whether the wedding would actually take place this time; Walter had said. Of course, no one could say, in fact Shella found it highly unlikely that the wedding would go off without a hitch now that the Stark heir was not the Stark heir anymore.
Shella Whent had seen Rickard Stark when the man had left Riverrun to chase after his wayward son, calm and collected and calculating. Hoster had made an enemy that day, insulted and chased off a true beast, and now the wolf was returning from his hunt.
Shella shuddered at the thought of what Rickard might have in store for the children of Shella's cousin. Shella knew that to Hoster his daughters were only pieces in the big game. But Minisa had dearly loved Catelyn, Lysa and Edmure.
Shella could not believe it when all her contacts from the capital had shared the opinion that Rickard Stark was nothing but a Northern barbarian – straight forward, honest to a fault and without a single strand of hair capable of cunning or intrigue in his beard.
How did the old wolf manage to leave that impression on the hyenas at court and depart from their keg of wildfire in a shower of sparks without all those fools shaking in their boots?
Rickard Stark's actions would start the civil war that had been looming over the entire realm since the Defiance at Duskendale, and afterwards the man had extricated himself from court in a masterstroke, taking a princess with him and leaving a battlefield of political corpses.
The king showed himself a threat to all his lords, the prince's men were all but banished from court and the capital's vultures in open opposition to one another. Sure, Rickard Stark's demeanor spoke of a bumbling fool leaving chaos behind, but his results in themselves spoke another language.
People would notice, of course. The queen would know; likely the sly woman had already approached Rickard Stark over the matter of her son Rhaegar and Rickard's daughter. Some sort of accord had probably been reached between Rhaella Targaryen and Rickard Stark, but to what end Shella knew not. If it were different the king would have called for the head of his Warden of the North, after all, almost nothing got past Varys.
Two other explanation to Rickard Stark retaining his head were either the wolf was as simple as he showed himself to the world; or the Spider had been compromised. And while Shella knew to dismiss the first of those options, the second scared her. Others would see the smoke in the King's Landing as well, the waters muddy with blood of tomorrow.
No true player of the great game would misread the chaos in the capitol for a mistake. The great lion, the old falcon, the thorny rose, the calm kraken, and the viper brothers of Dorne most important among the players were all going to take heed.
Not the trout, ever-grasping as Hoster Tully was. The man was probably as bigoted and blind as ever. If Rickard Stark had died on the pyre, Hoster Tully would have stood at the crossroads of the war with the power of a kingmaker in his hands. Now Hoster was in danger of becoming mere prey to the true players, without rash young fools like Brandon Stark to run off into a war and elevate Hoster to heights he always dreamt off.
If Shella's thoughts proved true, Hoster would bring about the downfall of house Tully in his greed and ambition. Shella would have her answer when the wolves were back at Hoster's door again.
So Shella had shown her husband who the heiress to House Whent was, and that Walter had only become a lord through his marriage to her. Oh, Walter had raged, but Shella's vassals, her servants and the smallfolk would fall in line behind Shella and Walter knew it. So, just as Walter wished, when Shella set off to the wedding that would not happen, she left him behind.
On Shella's instruction her husband Lord Walter Whent was to be kept confined to his chambers until she returned Riverrun. More important things than a marital union were at stake there now, after all.
Shella took her two youngest along to Riverrun with her, her son Simon and her darling Linia. While the boy was not the best with a sword among her four sons, he did have the quickest mind and was not fool enough to question Shella's actions like her other sons Henry and Frank. The two idiots had joined their father in confinement as Shella left. Still, Shella was glad that her eldest son Leon at least knew how to read the game a little. After all, Leon was aware in whose hands the power of Harrenhal rested.
Walter had been left to his devices for too long and seemed to dream of his own grandeur. Her fool husband had probably been influenced by his brother, and Oswell had lived his formative years under the White Bull in the Reach.
A wonder that Oswell's perspective on women became so backwards, one had to consider that as a squire Oswell lived in a region under Tyrell rule he would know the power women could hold. The whole region lived under the iron heel of the Queen of Thornes, no matter how fashionable Olenna's shoes were.
With all the sad business of the tourney last year still haunting the Whents still, it was time for Shella to take a more active part in commanding her castle again. And if her brother-in-law Oswell got another idea of advancing the royal designs of his mentor Gerold Hightower by whispering into the ear of Shella's husband, to use the Whent's position in those designs once more...
... well, then it might just be time for another spot in the Kingsguard to become vacant, after only a year of young Jaime Lannister's appointment.
Dreadful business when Ser Grandison could not be roused anymore. Webbing and venom and three lions lay victim, though the youngest of the lions was left blissfully unaware as he welcomed the poisoned gift, the induction of the youngest knight ever in the history of the Kingsguard.
And even as Shella remained silent on the distasteful matter, sitting between King's Landing and Lannisport as she was, a little bird carried Shella's message to the intended ear before her bats chased the rest of the small flock from Shella's halls. A message stayed granted a favor untold yet.
After all, the Master of Whispers himself knew best that, even without evidence, mere words would be enough to compel the high and mighty king Aerys into action if it served to combat imagined traitors.
Now the Spider owed Shella a large favor, but certainly not obedience. Not like the Spider owed the wolf, as it seemed. Rickard Stark must have serious intel on Varys himself, to force the Spider's compliance. Even Shella's bats in the capitol only knew the eunuch beat a hasty retreat in the face of the Warden of the North.
Shella and her party made good time past Raventree Hall towards Riverrun. She estimated they would have at least another week before the groom and his father arrived after them. Now Shella would of course have to make her way back from Riverrun through Stone Hedge lest the stallion lord felt slighted for years to come. Men.
Hoster received Shella in the courtyard of Riverrun, though he did not seem happy at her arrival. Rather, Hoster looked on with a tense expression as Lord Blackwood and Shella dismounted with their retinue. Tytos had joined the Whents at Raventree, though more for the expected spectacle than out of sudden political insightfulness, Shella ventured.
Many a banner could be spied already on the men milling about Riverrun; Bracken's and Piper's and Vances' and Smallwood's and Mallister's among them. Finally, Minisa's children approached. Catelyn and Edmure at least greeted her enthusiastically, even as Lysa was strangely absent.
The Blackfish was on the edge of the plaza, his eyes fixed on his brother Hoster with a truly murderous stare. This looked to be worse than another attempt by Hoster to pawn Brynden off in a marriage alliance gone awry. Brynden would be the one to crack when Shella asked about what to expect this week. The man always had had a soft spot for Shella's side of the family, after all. Soon Shella would at least know what Hoster wished for, and what Brynden dreaded.
"Auntie Shella, we are so happy you could make your way here again! Is it not wonderful? Father was so certain my Brandon would – that he... that he would not return."
Catelyn seemed to choke on her emotions as she spoke before visibly brightening again.
"But now Brandon is coming back. For me."
Catelyn at least seemed happy that her promised was to return to her, even if Hoster's visage darkened at the mere mention of Brandon Stark's name. Gods, how empty had the old trout left the heads of his children?
Enough rumors of Brandon's raucous behavior had circulated for years; how could Shella's little niece not have heard of any of them? Did anyone ever tell Catelyn that her knight in shining armor came from the kingdom without knights?
And now, with Brandon's position as heir to the North in jeopardy, where would that leave his little southern wife Catelyn? Still, Shella did not have the heart to break her niece's.
Besides, it might prove dangerous to Shella's house to be too close to the Tullys in these volatile times. In the end Shella only gave her niece a tight hug and prayed Hoster would not continue his streak of obstinate stupidity, all the while telling Catelyn sweet nothings.
Linia and Simon distracted Minisa's two children as Shella made polite, if dull, conversation with her liege Hoster afterwards. God, the man did not seem able to conceptualize that women could have a mind for something other than comfort and romance and sewing.
How Minisa's father ever thought a marriage could bring the Whent's a boon was beyond her. Hoster Tully obviously did not understand that ties were to bind an alliance together both ways. Alliances were not supposed to only to support everything always in Hoster's favor!
Shella left Hoster soon after to seek out his brother Brynden who at least did not insult Shella's intelligence. Sadly, the Blackfish had little mind for politics, or anything beyond the sword and the battlefield, for that matter. Still, maybe such a conversation was warranted now. Marriages were the highest tool of politics, after all, and Brynden was intimately familiar with proposals.
Also, men were prone to speak truths without knowing they did, especially military men such as Brynden. Shella finally found Brynden still up on the balustrade overlooking the courtyard and called out to him.
"Brynden! I see you are as happy with Hoster as ever. Did he bring up another Redwyne girl for you to marry?"
That brought out the anticipated scowl on Brynden's face. The foolish man would start ranting, Brynden could never shut up about the wrongs his brother Hoster committed towards Brynden.
"No."
That, Shella knew as she startled, was a surprising answer. And it meant that Hoster had truly alienated his brother; likely in a very, very stupid fashion. So, not just another proposal for Brynden, there was only one button Shella knew that, if pushed, would have Brynden so furious with his brother.
Hoster must have done something to one of the children. And seeing Catelyn and Edmure frolicking in front of Shella with her own children, Lysa was the victim. Hoster, you foolish man. Shella dropped all friendly pretense as she continued with Brynden.
"What did your brother do to her?"
"Nothing I will tell you. Nothing I can tell you."
Brynden only spared Shella a short glance as he answered, his face mellowing as shame crossed it. Shame and pity. Shella was beginning to feel a little curious. And angry, she felt angry. This did not look to be good.
"Brynden. Minisa was my favorite cousin and even if your brother does not care about us Whents as kin, her children are my family. So. Tell me. You will not brush me away, Brynden. I would get… inventive."
A little scowl helped against Brynden as she talked. The Blackfish did not have a mind for politics, but he knew Shella had one. And Brynden knew threats well enough when he heard them, even political ones.
Brynden had been Minisa's and Minisa's children's confidant more than Minisa's misogynistic husband Hoster himself, and the Blackfish had travelled the Seven Kingdoms a lot in his knighting days.
Brynden was perceptive enough to understand who ruled Harrenhal in truth, and as young as House Whent's claim was to Harren's old seat, Harrenhal's lands and armies and position always gave smart men pause. Especially military men from the Riverlands.
"Lysa almost died recently. Hoster is responsible, I cannot tell you how. What I can do is forget to lock her door tonight. You know the way, Shella. Raise a fuss when you see her, do me a favor."
Brynden was bitter, truly. Some of Shella's anger deflated. Now there was only small anticipatory kindling of wrath left in Shella, waiting to explode in a bonfire. And worry. Brynden's words promised foul things. However, there was more to be talked about with the Blackfish. Lysa would have to wait until tonight.
"I'll go for a walk tonight then, Brynden. Still, that is not what has Hoster on edge. How is our liege's reaction to the news from the capital? Anything special I can expect at this second attempt at a wedding?"
Brynden did not reply immediately. Strange, for such a snappy man. There must have been many a change in house Tully in such a short time span. When Brynden finally answered, it did deliver a few surprises.
"I am worried, Shella. I cannot tell what the wolf is planning but what I know gives me hope and fear in equal measure. Hoster did not part with Lord Stark in good spirit, it is well known. My brother was telling the Northman that his son Brandon was dead already and Hoster would not sacrifice good Rivermen on a fool's errand; Hoster would not order his men to follow the old wolf as Rickard rode straight into the death trap that was waiting for him in King's Landing.
"Immediately afterwards, as if that breach of trust weren't insult enough, my brother tried to change the betrothal agreement to a new marriage between Catelyn and Rickard's second son Eddard. Rickard Stark was, unsurprisingly, rather wroth with Hoster at that. So, Lord Stark simply rode off with his two hundred Northern troops in silence as Hoster decried Stark a Northern savage, without any understanding for southern politics.
"I think my brother was hoping for the old wolf to die and then pressure his new heir Eddard into a new alliance, what with the heir of the Vale at risk and the bride of the Stormlord whisked away. Hoster already fancied himself kingmaker."
Brynden snorted at that, almost satisfied that Hoster was now suffering from his rash idiocy. Seven hells, what had happened to Lysa to anger the Blackfish so? Brynden continued, mirth lacing his words as he spoke.
"But Rickard Stark survived and became the king's new favorite lord paramount. Brandon is disinherited, but the betrothal contract between the boy and Catelyn stands, still. Hoster is not happy with seeing his priced daughter wed to 'an idiot without a piece of shit to his name', as my dear brother calls it. Not that Hoster ever cared Brandon was a piece of shit himself. Hoster had no regard for that before; all that mattered was what Brandon Stark stood to inherit.
"Now Hoster will probably try to change the marriage contract that is in place, either to match up Catelyn with Eddard or, if that doesn't work, Lysa with Brandon. All to keep our prized Tully broodmare ready for a worthy candidate."
Brynden was brooding over that a lot by the looks of him. So, Hoster stood to antagonize the wolf lord further. Idiot. That could not be all though. After a lengthy stare from Shella Brynden did continue, finally.
"There's more, Shella. Lysa has gotten an invitation from the capital, to serve as princess Elia's handmaiden. Hoster will take that chance if Lysa does not end up wed by the end of the next fortnight, with all the eligible lords that are coming for the wedding. He has damaged his daughter irreparably, but all Hoster cares about is how Lysa will reflect on our house. If the whole situation weren't so personal, it could have been morbidly funny.
"You wouldn't believe it, Shella. Hoster almost shat himself when, not a day past, a raven came in from Wayfarer's Rest, from Tywin Lannister himself of all people saying. The old lion was writing he would arrive soon and that he was grateful for Lord Stark's invitation to attend the Wedding between the houses Tully and Stark. Grateful? Before Harrenhal Hoster wanted to marry Lysa to Tywin's son, but since then, there is only been bad blood between Riverrun and Casterly Rock.
"There've been more surprise guests announcing their presence. The new fox lord from the Reach, Alester Florent, wrote us that he was on his way by raven. The Queen of Thorns sends her regards and apologized she will not be in attendance because her fifth grandchild is supposed to be born any day now. Third rose bud of Highgarden they call it already, Alerie Hightower is breeding the next alliance pieces for her mother-in-law.
"The Riverlords are coming in force, despite the recent change of dates for the wedding. And, to top it all off, apparently the stag lord got bored at the Eyrie without his foster father and brother to keep him company. So. Robert Baratheon decided to ride after the Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark left two days before him. And while Tywin Lannister is the only new addition coming with an invitation, Hoster only sees potential brides and grooms lining up for his children in all the additional guests that are appearing at our doorstep.
"But Hoster is wrong, Shella. I see all that is happening now as the calm before the storm. This wedding will be last great gathering of lords in peacetime; to build factions between only us lords without the dragons before the war breaks out."
Those news were… worrying, to say the least. Lysa Tully in the princess' clutches was the easiest riddle to decipher. With Elia's daughter in the hands of the enemy of her husband Rhaegar, the Dornishwoman needed leverage. The sister of the Rickard Stark's future daughter-in-law was the only person Elia Martell could get her hands on without insulting Lord Stark.
Shella did not even want to imagine how the wolf would react if the mistress Lyanna were the one to be called to court to serve as princess Elia's lady-in-waiting.
The old lion's presence at the wedding, though? All Riverlords knew of Tywin's split with Hoster after Ser Jaime had taken up the white cloak. Riverrun and Casterly Rock could have built a powerful bloc, together with the Eyrie and Winterfell, uniting four of the five Northern regions together. After all, no one trusted the squids far enough to include them with anything.
Alester Florent had shown himself to be intelligent so far, in marrying one daughter of his to Tarly and another to Hightower, but this involvement in pre-war politicking rank of too much ambition from the Lord of Brightwater Keep. Not a good quality when one stands opposite to the Queen of Thorns, but if the fox played his cards right, the Florents might be able to finally usurp the Tyrell's position in the Reach in the coming war.
Leyton Hightower would probably be inclined to back his daughter Alerie's family before his wife's family in the conflict at the start, but Oldtown was flanked by Horn Hill and Brightwater Keep. Lord Leyton Hightower could probably be persuaded to sit the conflict out and follow the winning side in that Reach at the end.
Why the whoring warrior of the Eyrie made his way over to the wedding was anyone's guess, though the explanation of Robert Baratheon simply following one of his whims was as likely to be true as any other reason.
Shella did keep most of her thoughts on the matter to herself, though. Even as Brynden was not likely to care much about the talk behind closed doors that would ensure over the entirety of the wedding period, it would not help advance Shella's interests to distract the Blackfish from his grudge against his own brother Hoster. Depending on how Hoster managed to handle all the trouble coming his way in the coming days Shella might approach the other lords in attendance on whether the trouts were still fit to rule the rivers.
Then, when Hoster might still mourn his chance gone by to become kingmaker, the paramountcy of the Riverlands would be open for Shella and the Riverlords to plot over. After trading a few more friendly barbs and small talk with the Blackfish Shella left, retiring to her quarters with her children, Only later in the evening did Shella emerge again to seek out her shy little niece Lysa.
Coming down the corridor towards Lysa's chamber, Shella was first hit with a pungent floral scent. Shella knew this type of aroma was usually caused by burning incense candles to mask the stench of death and corruption that men carried with them when their battle wounds festered and started to rot. She'd often smelled it at the Maesters' tents at the tourney last year.
Some of Riverrun's servants tried to divert Shella from her path now, but Shella was having none of that and hastened towards Lysa's room.
Finding the door to Lysa's room closed but not unlocked Shella was greeted by an air reeking of stale sweat and tears, the wine of the Maesters and recent death. Her cousin Minisa's darling daughter Lysa looked a skeleton with skin. Lysa's matted hair no longer a looked bright Tully-red, the color instead dulled and the strands frayed. Lysa's face was pale, her pallor that of a man embalmed with a waxy sheen to it.
Shella would have thought herself standing before a corpse if not for the quiet, rattled breaths and the agonizingly slow rise of Lysa's chest. Lysa's cheeks had sunken in and the bags underneath Lysa's eyes seemed to carry more blood than the rest of her body. How could Catelyn and Edmure be so merry when their sister was knocking on death's door? Why, why was Lysa on death's door?
The door behind Shella opened and one of Hoster's servants burst in, freezing in place as Shella fixed him with a stare screaming murder. When Shella spoke to the man that same ice carried in her voice as well.
"Tell your lord I'll be expecting a talk with him later. But if Hoster Tully disturbs me while I comfort my niece, I will be very wroth with him. Now. Out."
The servant showed his intelligence by leaving at the drop of a hat. The man even ran off so fast he dropped the key to Lysa's. Shella locked up behind the servant and then sat down beside Lysa. The young girl Shella had come to love since Lysa was a young girl dreaming of knights and love.
As Shella was taking Lysa's pallid, trembling hand into Shella's own, the little girl in the bed tried to pull away in her dreams, fitful as Lysa slept. Her niece's mumbling left Shella in a pit of dread most deep.
"… Petyr… forgive me… blood, so much… red, our baby, so much blood… father, why… just tea... not tansy, it was tea…"
Lysa kept whispering on and on, her words repeating endlessly. Shella had known of the Tully ward. Petyr Baelish was always hanging on to the Tully girls when Shella came to visit Minisa and Minisa's children. And the boy had been obviously, hopelessly in love with Catelyn.
All the Riverlands had spoken of the foolish and feeble Tully ward that had challenged the Wild Wolf for the favor of the elder Tully daughter.
But Apparently Petyr Baelish had ended up catching the wrong fish in his net. Shella pressed a kiss to Lysa's forehead as her niece young niece slowly calmed. To sooth little Lysa Shella sang to her. The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil, Fair Maids of Summer and Seasons of My Love, Two Hearts That Beat As One, Shella sang of all that was lovely and kind and good, all the songs that Shella knew Lysa loved.
Even when Lysa finally slept soundly and deep, Shella sang on until she could think of no more songs that were lovely and kind and good. As the last note faded out Shella rose to meet with Hoster.
All the love and all the kindness and all the goodness Shella bore for Lysa had left Shella with the songs as the Lady of Harrenhal went to talk to the man that almost killed Shella's niece in his greed.
Shella strode into Hoster's solar where Hoster sat behind his heavy oaken desk. Shella kept her posture rigid and regal and her eyes glinted dark as the night that is ruled by bats. Shella's dress was as usual, form-fitting, and high-collared with long sleeves. It had wires in the back to support Shella's bosom.
Her teats had not shrunk again after childbirth like her belly had, much to Shella's dismay. At times they caused Shella backpain already, however, Shella had not grown stout after the five times she had survived the woman's battlefield like so many other women had.
She had been lucky to be aging in grace and dignity instead of dying in the birthing bed. Unlike Shella's cousin Minisa, who had wasted away from the many pregnancies Hoster had forced on Minisa in short order, Shella still looked the picture of health. Her voluptuous frame was supported by strong but lithe limbs and topped with a finely chiseled face.
True, Shella's behind had never gone back to how it was after Leon had been born, but her more voluminous ass had never been to Shella's detriment.
Many men who had only heard of Shella's beauty and seen her daughter's grace did not bother to notice the steel both women carried within them, only noticing both women's exteriors. Shella usually did nothing to dissuade foolish men from such thoughts, for no enemy was easier to turn or kill than an idiot besotted with Shella's assets, a smile or a simpering compliment.
But still, those womanly weapons Shella only brandished against men easily beguiled, or the few men worthy of her attention. Hoster, fool he may be, had ceased to be either worthy of Shella or of being a man to be manipulated comfortably. No, Hoster Tully would be treated like the insect he proved himself to be.
Later in the evening Shella simply waltzed into Hoster's solar, not bothering to let a servant announce her presence before entering.
"Lord Tully. After this... wedding, or whatever this event with the Starks turns out to be, I will be taking Lysa back with me to Harrenhal. You have failed Minisa. I will not."
"Shella. I am glad to see you as well. After the wedding of Catelyn to the Stark heir Lysa will not go with you. With all these lords in attendance I will find an advantageous match for her. You may help me in that endeavor. Now leave."
Imbecile that he was, Hoster lazily waved a hand at Shella as if she were someone to be shooed away. Hoster Tully did not even look up at Shella as he answered her.
Shella could not help herself at that display of foolishness. She laughed at Hoster, sharp and scathingly. When the husband of her dead cousin finally looked at Shella, probably truly seeing her for the first time since Shella arrived, she replied.
"That's Lady Whent to you, Lord Tully, and you have lost my respect too much that I would extend the courtesy to pretend I was glad to see you. The lords you are trying to wed Lysa off to would want to see Lysa first I reckon. You are trying to sell your youngest daughter to them as a broodmare, and Lysa is in no condition for that task. Lysa looks the part of what you have done to her.
"Right now, you will find neither a lord nor an heir for her, Lord Tully. Give Lysa to me and I will see her happy. If she recovers and proves amenable, I might wed her to one of my sons. Not Leon, but for Minisa and for my niece I am willing to shield Lysa from disgrace."
The lord of the trouts regarded Shella coolly for a second before answering.
"Lady Whent it is, then. You will see I have no need for you after Lysa is either betrothed by the end of this week or en route to the capital to serve as lady-in-waiting to princess Elia. I'll repeat myself: Now leave."
Shella looked at Hoster in silence. The blasted fool. One year past Hoster had antagonized the lions, this moon he had offended both the falcons and the wolves. Hoster's own lords were circling like vultures since Hoster deemed his children too good for them, and deemed their loyalty owed.
Shella could tell him the truth of that, even in words Hoster would understand. Hoster could still make moves to save his family, his house, his seat. Probably the window of opportunity for that was open until the Starks arrived, until Rickard made to filet the fish before Shella that was Hoster Tully. Instead, Shella turned around in silence.
As Hoster said, Shella did not have need of him. Shella would save Minisa's children herself after their father left his legacy in shambles. Shella knew she would not lose any sleep over it. Shella left Hoster Tully behind in his own solar, leaving without another word
Over the next few days more lords arrived and Shella and Linia watched on as the pageantry of houses grew and banners increased. The Old Lion outright bought an inn at a nearby village, his disdain for Hoster clear for all to see. Alester Florent came to ingratiate himself with the lords close to the Goldroad, at times even sucking up to Hoster himself. Hoster Tully was smirking at Shella then like an idiot, no doubt thinking of the fox's unwed heir as a consort for Lysa. Lackwit, to try to meddle in the Reach now of all time.
Old Lord Frey came as well, an unwelcome surprise. His newest wife was left behind, nursing their youngest daughter who had been born less than 20 days ago. Specifically, Walder Frey left behind his sixth wife and his 23rd trueborn child. To top it off, Bethany Rosby was dying from birthing little Roslin Frey. Seven, Walder Frey was a revolting man, already leering at Shella and Linia the whole time he saw them.
As if Shella would ever forgive the old weasel for Sarya. The repulsive man did not even mention his fifth as he asked if Shella's daughter or one of her sons were looking for a partner. No, Shella quickly moved to extricate herself from that discussion with Walder Frey.
Baelor and Garth Hightower came uninvited but not unwelcomed. Shella was unsure how they had made it to Riverrun so fast; probably by ship to Lannisport. The biggest upset however, arrived a day before the wolves themselves. A runner came in to Riverrun from the Whispering Woods to announce the newcomers, and an eerie silence spread amongst the Riverlords when they heard the news.
But then again, their kind were never welcomed here, especially since they'd been thrown out of the Riverlands near three centuries ago.
For Shella, however, all these eligible elder bachelors opened up a new question even. Maybe it was time to trade up from Walter.
With now five unmarried lords paramount in attendance, the lines of the war would be drawn here at Riverrun. Of course, Hoster could never be a viable marital prospect for her and Robert Baratheon would never be a good prospect for anyone from what Shella knew. Still, with Lyarra Stark, Joanna Lannister and Myrelle Piper dead, Shella was going to have the pick of a husband between the wolf, the lion and the kraken at this gathering at Riverrun.
Because when Quellon Greyjoy and his three eldest sons arrived for the wedding unannounced without a single person expecting them, Shella knew the coming days then and there would set the course for the war to come. Shella could only lament her husband Walter for the fool he was once more.
Riverrun was, without a doubt, the place to be right now.
Just FYI, the words of House Grandison are "Rouse Me Not".
I'd contemplated it for the title but then again, "Such a splendid match" is so much more acerbic.
And so much better than just a throwaway joke for the title.
Tell me your thoughts on it and the whole chapter.
Also, the story has now caught up in chapters posted with AO3.
Releases will slow down for both sites. I don't have a fixed posting schedule so a new chapter comes up when it does.