Review responds
Topone: Thanks mate
larsdewit: Thanks. I generally agree that "King of Winter" as a title outbadasses "King in the North". However, both titles predate the Targaryens. In this case, it was a choice in writing style as King in the North as a response to King of the Rock has a better cadence match.
Radeisth: Glad I matched Tywin to how he is expected. On Whent as a match to Arryn, there are two problems: Elbert Arryn is heir presumptive atm and with Denys as spare and Jon's history with dying children and wives, he might not be open to a new marriage. Lysa was a desperate move as the army needed support by the Rivermen and Elbert had died in OTL. You're arguing that I should implement them as shield to the New North, but that undermines the key interests of both Whents and Arryns: They are not looking out for the North, they are looking out for themselves. Not saying Whent/Arryn is impossible as Shella would have the motivation to beget Arryn heirs, still your cause does not work for both houses. I'm not commenting on how the final map will look like in any way. Maybe someone wins the big game and the Seven Kingdoms stay together in perpetuity? As for the Freys, I understand and agree with the hate of the fandom, still, a Frey betrayal has become so predictable in the stories it is almost mundane. Now that I pointed that out I might still include one as a curveball, but hey, no spoilers.
Guest(1): Thanks, I adore that you adore my story.
adirtycanadian: Hope the new chapter lived up to expectations.
chm01: I always picture sedition as talking to a mob instead of, you know, key conspirators. But yes.
Guest(2): Young Keanu Reeves says what?
NightlyRowenTree: Thanks for keeping with the story, hope the new chappy lived up to the built expectations
PuffsOfPygmys: Writing someone as a child that is properly erratic is hard enough, having them be annoying without the writing seeming forced is beyond me atm. Also, adorable Rhaenys is adorable.
John Smith: This might be me quoting a bogus statistic but I do think to remember that most rapes are not perpetrated by strangers but by people known to the victim. Not to say they lead one on with the expectation of romance, but on a more colloquial level, trust is still broken in people in general. Tywin has been disillusioned by his buddy since the 70s, according to my source (aka: A Wiki of Ice and Fire). Cregan's one of my fave characters and I do have a storyboard down for something involving him in the far of future. Ashara's a screamer. She knows it, so the person she puts in the place most affected by her screams is the man that tried to dishonor her as a way to rub his brother's superiority in his face. Why should she care so far about consequences?
Marvelmyra: My good Rickard Stark has shown himself to be an honest, trusting and honorable lord typical of the North. And Tywin, ambitious? Perish the thought!
InfinityMask: According to awoiaf, Rhaenys was born in 280. Makes sense, Defiance at Duskendale took half a year in 77, in 78 Steffon Baratheon traveled to Volantis and back to find a queen, 79 Elia and Rhaegar betrothal and then 80 wedding and Rhaenys' birth. Jon A did not have much to say at the meeting, him being there shows endorsement of the plan. And he might have participated in the part of the talk that I haven't shown (yet). No spoilers on plans for postwar split, not even on the resident survivors or early players. Rickard does not yet know anything about Lyanna, but he did betroth them. Read on to find out.
jmknz777: Thanks, will do.
Anime Princess: Rickard hates Aerys and Rhaegar. He's like Eddard in the way that he's got, you know, basic decency. Also, he's a father. And adorable Rhaenys is adorable. Why does there need to be a Jon, if you mind me asking? Rickard's the focus of my story and Jon wouldn't be relevant until late 83 and properly when he comes of age in 299. A+N=J, just no. I do like the thought though of a broken Ned whose first love was taken from him due to circumstances and bad sanitation. The ten days of his wild youth in Harrenhal led to the death of his Ashara in the end and he's lived by his code of honor since. Classic redemption, perfect flawed character.
FuryJoe: Thanks
Magnus374: Adorable Rhaenys is adorable. Intimidating Tywin is intimidating. Still stuck on a phrase for Rickard.
Stannisfan: Glad you like it. Shoe's gotta rise first, the higher they fall. For now, though, Rickard is the hot player at the forge of alliances and the literal keg of political wildfire is in KL. Which he left in a shower of sparks.
Dragonfox123: Thanks.
Title Quote:
"The greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them."
Tywin Lannister, A Storm of Swords
Tygett rose slightly before dawn, as he had done since before Maelys Blackfyre tried to invade through the Stepstones and before Tygett had claimed his first kills at ten years old. Back when the Red Lion had still been Tygett's hero. Back when Aerys II Targaryen was still a welcome guest at Casterly Rock. Back when Tygett and his siblings vowed to reclaim the respect owed to them as lions of the Rock.
They had done that, and more. Now House Lannister was again one of the preeminent powers of the Seven Kingdoms. As it always should have been. Tygett no longer worshipped the Red Lion, traitor and failure that Roger Reyne had become. Tygett no longer thought of King Scab as a friend to House Lannister. And since yesterday, a new vow had replaced the old one of merely reclaiming respect. It was time to reclaim a kingdom.
With practiced ease Tygett put on his standard attire. Cloth, mail, padding, full plate. Where Tywin's armor was embossed in gold and crimson, Tygett preferred plain grey steel, polished to shine almost silver. To each the armor that served them best. Whereas Tywin did not fight at the front, as the leader he needed to cut a great figure. Tywin's image was his guarantor of safety when dealing with matters outside the battlefield; the few times that Tywin did take up the sword could not be allowed to diminish that.
Tygett, however, needed steel he could trust. Steel he trusted to blind his enemies, so it was polished to perfection. Steel he trusted to cut through his enemies, so it was sharpened to perfection. Steel he trusted to shield him from harm, so it was forged to perfection. Trust in your tools, trust in your comrades, trust in your commanders. And because Tywin displayed the image of the perfect leader and Tygett showed the prowess of the perfect commander, their men trusted them. And in turn, Tywin and Tygett trusted in their men. The most valuable commodity there is, trust.
Though commander in name, Tygett's heart was that of a soldier. Oh, he laid down the plans for battle and led in the van, true, but the only battles Tygett planned were the ones Tywin told him to. Tywin was the leader. Tygett was still in awe of the flood, still in terror at times. He was no visionary, only a soldier at heart. The best soldier.
His sword's sheath Tygett clasped to his side, the pommel of his sword plain and carefully wrapped in well-worn leather. No golden pommels for soldiers. Tygett had always known that Jaime had craved a plain sword like his, no matter how much Tywin kept pressing golden blades into Jaime's hands.
Still, to join the Kingsguard? Foolish boy. It would have just been a question of time.
Tygett would have convinced Tywin in time, to give the boy space. Kevan was in agreement with Tygett, but as always, Kevan remained too quiet when confronted by Tywin. Genna was in agreement with Tygett as well, but as always, Genna became too vocal when confronted by Tywin.
But Jaime's matter was a military one, and in matters strictly military, Tywin listened to Tygett. Even if it took Tywin some time. Time that Jaime had not left for himself and time that King Scab had now taken from them all. When Tywin had agreed yesterday to the wolf's proposal, he had been slightly displeased when Tygett had interrupted him.
Only slightly. The fate of his heir presumptive, disregarding contrary oaths, had been on Tywin's mind all the same. But Rickard, Rickard was the flood all over again. A commander, a visionary, not a soldier. For does an oath exist if that what it is beholden to exists no longer? There can be no celibate Kingsguard if there is no king for him to guard. No battle, just the flood. No release, disbandment. Tacticians and strategists.
Of course it was a gamble, what they planned. But as with every gamble, the bank has the highest odds, and banks were nothing compared to the Rock. Tygett still shivered at the things Tywin ordered done yesterday, after the wolves and falcons had left. A strategy to execute if Rickard Stark really did deliver today at Riverrun.
And if it worked, if the alliance stood? Well, they'd have apex predators leading them, pride and pack united, with the finest flock their vanguard. Even a pit of snakes as their ambos was possible, though the odds on that were not yet final. The herd and the swarm did not have to be enemies either, though their reliability at least was still heavily suspect. They could make a good hammer, though. Good tools.
But that was all for later. For now, Tygett loosened his muscles behind the inn. Slow swings, fast swings, wide swings, short swings.
Repeat.
Today, Tygett would face off against his brother-in-arms from Bloodstone.
Repeat.
The rider had been sent, requesting a spar around noon.
Repeat.
A friendly spar, in the training yard.
Repeat.
Not so friendly elsewhere, Tygett knew that. Somewhere close, a proper fight would take place. Not with blades, not just deciding the fate of one man. No, a fight with words, deciding the fate of thousands. But Tygett's friend knew none of that.
Repeat.
But it was not Tygett's place to worry about that. Tygett was just a soldier. A cog. A tool.
Repeat.
Dawn broke. Tygett would train for another hour. As ever.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Tygett returned for a proper breakfast when he was done with his training, his brother and sister in their respective combat outfits at the table. Tywin more regal than their king, Genna more enticing than for her husband.
Tygett joined in silence, taking the bread and the stew offered. He'd had a little before warming up, but now Tygett felt famished. His cloth was drenched underneath his mail. Sweat and hunger, a good morning. The silence was comfortable between them as they ate.
Before noon struck, news came in from other camps. The wolf and the falcon had been seen visiting the Lannister camp at dusk. The krakens had visited the Northmen in the night, feasted at their tables until their hosts deigned to return.
Early today the eagles had been reunited north of the Tumblestone, and the mother bat had visited the new arrivals together with the young raven. The Reach had banded together, foxes making their dens between towers. Smaller lords dined with the fishes.
Tygett could smell it. Oh, the smell. Blood, iron, and bonds forged and broken. War, it smelled of war. They might call it other, they might name a different date, after it was over. But Tygett, soldier to the bone, smelled it and felt it tickle his marrow. The war had started already, and no beautiful clothes and dresses could hide that from his nose.
They left to arrive before noon. The Blackfish had agreed to the request for a spar. He was a friend to Tygett, though Tygett knew not for long. The betrayal would strike too deep. But Tygett's commander had no need for friends, only tools. And a soldier was a tool. Another soldier could only be the second-best friend to Tygett. Tygett's best friend was his blade. But regardless, Tywin made no distinction between Tygett's first and second friend. To Tywin, all those were just tools.
The Northmen host was not far behind the Lannister host. Tygett could discern Rickard Stark at the front. The wolf's look was startling, even as Tygett knew what to expect. The carefully groomed and waxed beard of yesterday looked wind-blown and salted. It could never look poor, or scraggly, but today it looked wild, savage. The finer clothes of yesterday, the carefully treated leather of good quality, had been replaced with a traveler's gear that was well worn. And well fought in.
Rickard Stark looked a Northern savage that did not care a whiff for politics, or bootlicking, or the great game. He looked the way that Tygett had expected the Warden of the North to look like, before Tywin had shown Tygett Jaime's letter. Rickard's entire guard was not cloaked much different, only a mantle of rich wolf's fur put Rickard Stark and his sons apart from the rest.
Aside Rickard, Jon Arryn and his heir looked the epitome of Andal knighthood, decked out in resplendent plate engraved with prayers and stars. Towering over their Northern companions on their destriers, their shields strapped to their backs, the only thing the two groups shared was a grim countenance. Neither looked happy, neither looked cunning, neither looked dangerous to a lord in a castle. Perfect, honorable fools, all of them.
Tygett passed the dry moat and the entrance to Riverrun behind his brother, Genna at Tygett's side. Brynden Tully welcomed them at the entrance while his brother Hoster stood aside, waiting for the Northmen behind them. Tygett was perfectly fine with that arrangement, the younger Tully brother by far his favorite of the two.
Tywin, however, would not let this insolence stand. No, this was an insult. Hoster had done that before, but slights against Tyrion, while not forgiven, were understood. This? This was disrespect. Fool.
"Lord Tully. Thank you again cordially for the invitation to your daughter's wedding. You must look forward to the joining of your House with one as noble as the Stark's."
Slight for slight. But Tygett knew his brother. The great lion, even behind his biting dry sarcasm for sarcasm's sake, was amused. Amused expectation was a mood his brother seldom found himself in.
The Blackfish could not suppress a snort at Tywin's words. Join a House as noble as the Stark's. Up-jumped trouts, leaping from their river, belittled in their keep. One did not insult the lion, ever. Hoster Tully did not even spare them a glance as he answered Tywin, fixated on the looming shadow of the wolf crossing beneath the gate.
"Welcome, Lord Lannister, to my humble halls. Please, my brother has been looking forward to sparring with yours. Join them in the courtyard, would you not?"
The lords in attendance did not look comfortable. The slight tension between House Tully and House Lannister was known in the upper circles, people did just not expect the way both parties carried their slights.
Tywin did not even care to answer Hoster as he gave a sharp nod, but no Lannister moved an inch as the big bad wolf dismounted and stepped bluntly up to the lord of Riverrun.
"Bread. Salt."
Bluntly spoken, eyes as ice. Tygett noted that the Northern accent of the wolf's speech was more pronounced than yesterday when they had talked at the inn. Rickard Stark was not here to mince words and make merry, and all around knew it instantly.
Cold fury, untempered by days on the road, radiated out from the Lord Paramount of the North. Hoster Tully was not happy at the affront. The implication alone was insulting, but still, not too outlandish for a savage.
At Hoster's gesture his daughter approached, Lady Catelyn dressed impeccably, her hair carefully braided to highlight her auburn tresses. She was, Tygett knew and recognized once again, undoubtably, a true beauty.
Rickard Stark took both offerings and ate a little before passing the tokens of guest right on to Jon Arryn who had stepped up beside the Warden of the North. Only after Rickard had partaken in bread and salt did he show the girl before him a small smile. Rickard Stark even sounded kindly as he spoke, then.
"Lady Catelyn. It is a pleasure to see you once more. My son has been eager to meet you again. Brandon could speak of nothing but you since we left the capital, and of his regret to almost have lost you to his own foolishness."
The girl's face slowly took on the color of her hair. Still her voice did not waver as she answered, her eyes glistening as she shot an infatuated look at her betrothed who smiled at her as he dismounted.
"Thank you, father-in-law, you are most kind. I, too, have been counting the days. When I heard of my Brandon's sister being abducted, my heart ached for him. Still, I am happy that he has returned. To me."
Poor girl. The world was not kind to you, it never was to those like you, Tygett thought. The eldest pup walked over to the eldest fry and leaned down to exchange whispers, the girl giggling in return. Brandon Stark was a handsome and charming young man. The two young ones made for a beautiful pair, or would have made for one.
The wolf father smiled a fond smile as he looked at them. The eldest trout looked constipated, instead. Behind Rickard Stark, the true heir to the North helped the most beautiful woman from her horse, and Hoster Tully looked like he was about to explode. However, Rickard Stark seemed not to notice as he addressed his eldest.
"Brandon, son, why don't you take your charming betrothed for a walk while us old men have a short talk?"
Brandon Stark smiled from ear to ear as he nodded and grasped for the maiden's hand, pulling her along, and being pulled in turn. Catelyn Tully's face was one of pure bliss. Knowing of the Wild Wolf, Tygett remained unsure how genuine Brandon Stark's show of affection was. As soon as the pair was gone, Rickard turned to Hoster Tully, and the Stark's scowl was back on.
Rickard did spare a short look for a servant, not contemptuous but harsh, and asked for a proper mug of ale to wash down the welcoming offerings. The servant scurried away in a hurry before quickly returning with a solid stein topped by foaming ale. When Rickard finally made to talk to Hoster again, contempt had crept into his tone.
"Lord Tully. It is time we talked without all your southern layers of deceit and lies. Where?"
"My solar."
Tully spat out the words like ashes. Rickard almost walked past him into the keep, just as a squire approached to take his weapon. After all, guest right had been accepted. Lord Bracken sucked in a breath and the old weasel released a cackle as Rickard Stark refused to be parted from his blade. Hoster turned a shade of livid red as he spoke in a whisper that sounded like a shout.
"Stark. You are guest in my halls. Do you not trust my word? A poor showing, as we are to be family."
The wolf barked out a laugh.
"Tully. I had uncles I did not trust, and they never betrayed me. You left me to ride after my son, your son-in-law to be, without support as promised in our marriage contract as you scorned me when I tried to protect my Brandon.
"You fucking cunt told: 'Your fool of a whore mongering son is riding to his death. I'll marry my Catelyn to your spare, instead. Young Eddard has not been promised yet, has he? '
"I do not trust you, Hoster. I do not trust your word. The only reason I do not name you an oath breaker is that, taking a note from your book, I will follow our contract to the letter. Fool you, to put into writing what we in the North agree to with our word as our bond.
"You will rue the day you screamed after me that I was as dead as my Brandon, and my Ned would be more pliable if he tried to recover our ashes."
Rickard Stark's accent was slipping, his words becoming crisper and harsher and angrier as he spoke. The courtyard stood in silence. Vances, Brackens and Freys were silent, as were Darrys and others. They all watched the start of Hoster Tully's end
The absences were telling, too. Blackwood and Whent and Mallister. Their lordly allies would talk inform them here in Hoster's halls, but the Riverlords had not been there to stand with their liege to start with. Ravens would fly, telling the realm.
And Rickard Stark had just started his tirade.
"Tully. You are lucky I have honor. You are right that I am your guest. So. Leave as many of my guards at your solar's door as your own while we talk, and I shall leave Ice with my heir."
With perfect timing Ned Stark stepped up to his father, the stunning woman in purple at his side. Star and sword. A Dayne. Ashara Dayne, looking up lovingly at the man whose arm she had taken.
The younger Stark did not even glance at Hoster Tully, a smile playing on his lips as he gazed at the vision by his side. Every step, every breath, an insult. Rickard took a sip from his mug and Tygett almost imagined the old wolf tried to hide a smile.
"Agreed. Choose two of your guards and follow."
Gnashing his teeth, Hoster did not wait for a reply as he turned. He did not wait to lead the wolf into his castle either, leaving the trembling servant who had brought Rickard's ale to show the wolf in.
The moment Rickard Stark entered the keep proper, the entire courtyard seemed to release a breath long denied an escape. Then it was drowned in hushed whispers, none willing to talk aloud of what just had transpired.
Genna looked properly shocked and affronted, Tywin looked in control like always and Brynden… Brynden looked after his brother and Lord Stark with unmasked fury.
Genna, after visibly recovering her breath, made her way over to her father-in-law Walder Frey and his family. Tywin approached the Vances, engaging them about safety on the roads between Wayfarer's Rest and the Tooth or something else. Tygett did not really care. He looked at Brynden, his friend. His friend who Tygett was about to betray.
"Brynden. Want to hit something?"
"Yes," the Blackfish answered, closing his eyes for just a second. "Let's go sparring, Tygett."
The training yard was just through another gate to the side. The highest tower of Riverrun was overlooking it, even if the tower was not really all that tall. There already was a prestigious pair of lords exchanging pointers. Jason Mallister was sparring with Quellon Greyjoy.
The towering Ironborn was wielding a pair of battle axes lesser men would have to use two hands each for. The Lord of Seagard was armed with the standard attire of longsword and shield and was proving a deft hand at avoiding and parrying. Why two lords of such antagonistic holdings were sparring in the yard might be the explanation for the gaggle of spectators in the ranks.
Another pair to the side was made up of the youngest Whent brother born to Lord Walter and his wife training young Edmure in the use of bow and arrow. Lady Whent and her daughter were observing along with Lord Blackwood, whilst Jeffory Mallister stood to the side with some lads from the Houses Piper, Mooton, Cox, Vance, and Darry.
Almost all the important houses of the Riverlands were gathered in Riverrun's training yard, in just a few boys. Brynden and Tygett took up an arming sword each. As the two started testing the other's guard Brynden was already too furious to hold back any strength. Tygett obliged, knowing Brynden's fury would only increase.
Low swipe. Back step. Parry. Stab. Charge. Shield. Metal on metal. Push. Swipe. Dodge. Strike. Parry. Back step. Their looked blades released, Tygett and Brynden measured each other, a wild smile to both their faces.
From the corner of his eyes Tygett could see Brandon Stark arriving at the yard with Catelyn Tully, his yet-betrothed, on his arm. According to Rickard, his former heir did not have a clue of what was going to happen here.
The lady Catelyn looked prim and proper, her hair still in place and decidedly unravished. That had been Tywin's suggestion, leave Hoster no choice but to accept. Just… pluck the flower, Tywin had said.
Except that Rickard Stark did not want to be bound by the marriage after Lord Tully had betrayed it in spirit, if not in word. Still, a telling bruise was now forming on Brandon's neck, just on the edge of his collar. Tygett almost felt sorry for the girl.
Tygett could spare the pair no more attention as his spar with with Brynden resumed. Short, vicious bouts and short breaks in between It could not be long now.
Within five minutes into Tygett's spar Tywin had made his way over to the gallery with both Lords Vance, and the Lady Smallwood as well. Genna, too, had arrived with an entourage of Freys. Somehow even a Hightower had joined the crowd at the balustrade. All was in place and Tygett, the soldier, the tactician, knew the time was now.
Glass shattered. Something had broken the window of the topmost room of Riverrun's highest tower. The window of the solar. Glass shards fell onto the ground, and something else broke as it landed in the dirt.
It was a heavy mug that had broken the window, a rest of ale was wetting the sands of the training yard. From up above, screams in a harsh Northern voice could be heard coming from the now broken window.
"YOU FUCKING FISH. NOT TEN MINUTES PASSED SINCE YOU SAID TO TRUST YOU, AND NOW YOU PROVE YOURSELF AN OATH BREAKER IN WORD AS WELL. THE CONTRACT IS CLEAR. THE INK HAS DRIED, WE HAVE BOTH SIGNED IT. AS HAVE OUR WITNESSES, WITH COPIES FOR EACH. HOSTER TULLY AND RICKARD STARK AS SIGNATORIES, MAESTERS KYM AND WALYS AS OFFICIANTS, BRYNDEN TULLY AND MEDGER CERWYN AS WITNESSES. AS IT IS WRITTEN IT SHALL BE, YOU TAUGHT ME AND I HAVE LEARNED:
"'WE HEREBY PLEDGE TO BIND OUR HOUSES IN MATREMONY THROUGH THE UNION OF BRANDON STARK, ELDEST SON OF RICKARD STARK, AND CATELYN TULLY, ELDEST DAUGHTER OF HOSTER TULLY.'"
The yard was silent as a funeral. There was a short lull as it seemed that Hoster Tully seemed to answer, but forthwith the screams of Rickard Stark continued.
"AND NOW YOU INSULT ME AND MY SONS. FAMILY, DUTY, HONOR. YOUR WORDS, THAT I AM ABIDNG BY STILL, WHILE YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T CARE ABOUT THEM. AS WRITTEN IN THE CONTRACT, YOUR DAUGHTER STILL IS TO HAVE LANDS HALF THE SIZE OF YOUR ENTIRE HOLDINGS TO HER NAME UNTIL THEY REVERT BACK TO HOUSE STARK UPON HER DEATH. AND THAT IS NOT SUFFICIENT TO YOU?
"I WILL NOT SIGN AWAY MY HEIR TO YOUR DAUGHTER WHEN YOUR HONOR IS OBVIOUSLY WORTH SHIT. MY NED IS CURRENTLY PURSUING ANOTHER BETROTHAL AND I AM NOT INCLINED TO NEGOTIATE WITH YOU. NEITHER SHOULD ANY OTHER LORD, SEEING HOW YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T CARE FOR YOUR CHILDREN."
The silence in the yard was now almost oppressive, though Tygett could see Catelyn Tully standing to the side in silent shock, tears streaming from her eyes. Brandon Stark beside her almost mirrored her expression. The boy might have faked his affection, Tygett would never be sure, but he did not fake his empathy just then.
That, and only that, seemed to be the only thing that stayed Brynden Tully's hand from cutting Brandon Stark down. Instead, Brynden once more direct a look filled with the promise of murder towards the window above them. The screaming picked up again.
"I KNOW MY ELDEST SON IS NO SAINT, BUT YOU CAN FORGET FOISTERING YOUR YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OFF ON HIM IN EXCHANGE FOR THE OTHER. THE CONTRACT IS CLEAR, THOUGH I PITY THE YOUNG GIRL YOU TRICKED TO DRINK MOON TEA LATE IN HER PREGNANCY! THE WHOLE RIVERLANDS WHISPERS OF HOW YOU SAVAGELY KILLED LYSA TULLY'S CHILD WITHOUT A CARE FOR YOUR YOUNGEST DAUGHTER'S LIFE!"
There was a silence in the courtyard so deafening in the wake of that last sentence that the Tumblestone sounded loud enough to flood the world.
"THAT'S WHY SHE DID NOT GREET US WHEN WE ENTERED YOUR KEEP, ISN'T IT, HOSTER? STILL BOUND TO THE BED FROM THE TIME YOU ALMOST MURDERED HER. TELL ME, DID YOU ALSO CONVICE MAESTER KYM TO BREAK HIS SALUTARY OATH; OR DID YOU BUY THE HERBS FROM A WOOD'S WITCH YOURSELF WHEN HE WOULDN'T?"
The silence was broken now by Catelyn Tully's deep sobs. Brandon, her kind-of-still-betrothed, awkwardly tried to console her; but what could anyone say hearing such tragedy? Edmure Tully had long abandoned his bow and arrows, coming over to seek Brynden's embrace while tremors rocked the boy's body. The screams started again, but this time the voice of Hoster Tully rose.
"YOU FUCKING NORTHERN SAVAGE! I RUE THE DAY YOU FIRST APPEARED ON MY DOOR AND SOUGHT TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER FOR YOUR SON. NO MORE OF THIS, THE BETROTHAL IS BROKEN! I WILL NOT SUFFER YOU IN MY HALLS ANY LONGER, STARK. LEAVE! YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME HERE. KING SCAB SHOULD HAVE BURNED YOU AND YOUR MISBEGOTTEN SPAWN!"
Rickard Stark did not take that lying down. A last few screamed sentences in an angry Northern drawl rang out.
"MISBEGOTTEN SPAWN? MY LINEAGE STRETCHES BACK 8.000 YEARS; UNBROKEN FROM ONE OF THE MIGHTIEST DYNASTIES OF ROYALTY IN WESTEROS! ON THE OTHER HAND, YOUR ENTIRE HOUSE OWES ITS RISE OVER YOUR BETTERS IN THE RIVERLANDS THANKS TO THE KINGS SITTING ABOVE US! KINGS YOU SO READILY INSULT.
"AND TO THINK THAT I EVEN ARRANGED FOR THE SUPPOSED SISTER-IN-LAW OF MY SON, YOUR DAUGHTER LYSA, TO BE CALLED TO COURT AS A LADY-IN-WAITING TO PRINCESS ELIA. AWAY FROM THE RIVERLANDS, WHERE EVERY INNKEEPER'S DAUGHTER TELLS OF HER SHAME!
"CAN SHE EVEN BEGET CHILDREN STILL, NOW THAT YOU HAVE RUINED HER WOMB? I PITY YOUR CHILDREN, TULLY, BUT I CAN ONLY SAY I AM THANKFUL YOU ARE SUCH AN HONORLESS CUR! NOW THAT YOU BROKE THIS BETROTHAL, AT LEAST MY SON DOES NOT HAVE TO SUFFER YOU AS HIS FATHER-IN-LAW.
"I MAY HAVE TO BREAK BRANDON'S HEART, BUT I/em CARE FOR THE HAPPINESS, LIFE AND HEALTH OF MY CHILD, IN DIFFERENCE TO YOU. I'D FEAR FOR ALL OF THAT IF YOU WERE HIS FATHER-IN-LAW, SEEING WHAT YOU DO TO EVEN YOUR OWN CHILDREN.
"DON'T BOTHER SHOWING ME OUT, TULLY, I AM HAPPY FOR EVERY SECOND LONGER THAT YOU ARE OUT OF MY SIGHT. AND MAY YOU CHOKE ON YOUR DAMN PRIDE."
The sound of a heavy door slamming into its frame resounded, shortly before a sobbing Catelyn Tully ripped herself from the embrace of her former betrothed and ran towards her uncle. Brandon Stark almost followed her, perturbed, but stopped in his tracks after exchanging a look with the Blackfish.
Brynden Tully did not look even angry with the eldest Stark son, merely agonized for his nieces, and so very hurting. Brynden almost seemed thankful that Brandon stayed back, then.
Shella Whent rushed past Brandon Stark, enveloping her cousin Minisa's daughter in the hug of a mother, and cradling Catelyn at her breast. The eldest Tully child seemed between catatonia and hysteria as she asked for her sister, her betrothed, her mother, her uncle and for all the reasons why, all in clipped sentences between cries of anguish.
Catelyn Tully asked for explanations, for comfort and for help. Never, though, did she ask for her father. Only sometimes did the words 'Lord Tully' leave her lips amongst her sobs.
The majority of the court was still deathly silent. But not all; Tygett could hear Quellon Greyjoy laughing in a deep, low chuckle. His opponent Lord Mallister, while looking sympathetic instead of amused, did not seem shocked. Shella Whent pulled a veil from somewhere in her sleeve to cover poor Catelyn, an unusual thing to carry around with you randomly.
And Tywin? Tywin wore the same smile he had worn when Tarbeck Hall had crashed down on the whore Ellys and her youngest get. Tygett had to suppress a shudder. Still the rumble of the Tumblestone was echoing in Tygett's ear. Or was it the dead echo of that unnamed stream coming back to him, flowing through the mines?
Brynden excused himself and his family from all in attendance. Tygett, standing close to the Tullys as he was, heard Shella Whent saying she would take them all to Lysa and, if necessary, away from Riverrun afterwards.
A furious looking Lord Stark stepped into the trainings yard, then, stopping dead in his tracks as he beheld the scene in front of him. Rickard Stark even managed to look sheepish and almost plagued by a little guilt as the Tullys strode past him. The Blackfish had to throw away his arming sword, probably to prevent any urges that could have overcome him.
The Stark lord collected his sons and entourage, keeping a quiet and very much shocked Brandon close at hand while young Eddard and Lady Dayne shot looks of pity after the Tully family. And then the Northmen were simply gone, leaving the paramountcy of the Riverlands bereft of the most valuable commodity of all.
Trust.
Ice on fire!
Did I disappoint your expectations or did Ricky boy properly savage the trout?
Also. Shameless self-promotion, recently added the first chapter of my new story "Brothers in Blood".
What if the King Who Knelt never knelt?