The morning was a somber one, with the usual noise and ruckus of an awakening camp kept to a minimum. Torrhen found the quiet rather disconcerting, as he had grown accustomed to the activity, but it seemed appropriate due to the duty that lay before him. As he emerged from his tent, he found Renly and Rickard waiting for him.

"Is everything ready?"

"All is prepared, my lord. Lord and Lady Bracken await your arrival."

"Very good, Rickard. Let's go." The two men nodded and fell in behind him as he made his way to the castle, with Rhaegar padding alongside. As they entered the courtyard, two men-at-arms escorted them to the godswood where a crowd was gathered. As they entered the wood, the masses parted as he approached, leading to the center where Lord Jonos, his wife, daughters, and Wyllis were standing before an open grave underneath a huge oak tree. Next to the hole lay the body of Hendry, with the castle's septon standing over him speaking words from The Seven-Pointed Star. Clad in armor and clasping his sword, he looked like he was sleeping. As he stood before him, he couldn't help but smile at his handsome features. 'It's not right. He should be charming maidens, not lying here.', he thought as he turned to look at Lord Jonos and his family. Lord and Lady Bracken managed to hold their composure, as well as Wyllis, but their daughters were inconsolable. Barbara and Jayne had tears streaming down their faces, while Catelyn, Bess, and Alysanne wailed as they clutched their mother's legs. Walking over to them, he bowed deeply. "My lord, my lady, my deepest condolences for your loss. Hendry was a fine man and deserved far better than this."

"Thank you, my lord. He was proud to serve you."

"I was proud to know him. With your permission, I would like to say a few words." With a nod, he turned to face the crowd and took a moment to collect himself with a few steadying breaths. "I knew Hendry for only a short time, but in that time he impressed me with his courage, his talent, and his love of art, home and family. He was proud to be a Bracken but managed to have that pride without the taint of arrogance or hubris, which is a rare thing for any man to possess. It was that pride that allowed him to throw himself into the chaos of war without hesitation or doubt. Wars are won and lost on the actions of such men, and often they do not live to see the fruits of their labors. Hendry may be gone, but because of him this great castle and its lands are once more in the hands of their true masters. He shall take his rightful place in the halls of his fathers, and never know pain, fear, or shame ever again. We shall never see his like again, but we will never forget him." After a moment of silence, he turned and bowed to Lord Jonos before stepping aside. Lord Jonos then nodded to two men standing nearby who moved over to Hendry's body and, with great care, lifted him up and placed him into the grave before grabbing a pair of spades and begin shoveling dirt.

"Thank you for your words. Hendry would have approved. Still, I would have preferred that he was here." Wylis said, trying his best to hold back his tears.

"So do I, but as long as we remember him, he'll never be truly gone." Torrhen clasped his arm gently as if trying to give him some of his own strength.

"That does give me some comfort."

"I'm glad it does. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some prisoners to deal with."

"Should I come with you?"

"No. Be with your family. The way the world is now, savor the time you have." Wyllis nodded and then turned away, returning to Lord Bracken and the others. "Now, gentlemen, we have work to do." As he walked out towards the site where the prisoners had been kept during the night. For security, he had kept the Bracken men as far away as possible to avoid any reprisals against them even though the few men of House Clegane who had remained at Stone Hedge had died to a man as they had been on the front lines during the assault. Ser Mors's attempt at justice for the crimes committed by the Mountain's men, possibly. But still, it was better to be safe than sorry and give the Lannisters further entries to their list of grievances. Fortunately, as they drew closer, he could see that there had been no cause for alarm. The men looked fed and cared for, for which he blew a sigh of relief. "Bring me one of the captains." He commanded a nearby guard and soon enough, a man with a lean face and mousy brown hair bearing the peacock of House Serrett of Silverhill upon his surcoat was brought before him. "What is your name?"

"Tommen, my lord. Ser Tommen Serrett of Silverhill."

"Ser Tommen, I have decided that you and your men are to be released. I don't have the means to hold you indefinitely, but I will not have you executed. Therefore, I will set you free and send you south to Harrenhal. Thirty of my Tyroshi freeriders will escort you on the River Road to the castle. You will be disarmed, of course, and you will also carry a letter. In this letter, I will make it plain and clear that you and your men carried out your duties to the best of your abilities and that you were treated in captivity with respect and dignity. You will take this letter and deliver it personally to Lord Tywin. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now, I'll have that letter ready for you by midday. Let your men know what is happening."

"Thank you, my lord. I will do all you ask."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, off you go." With a wave, the guards took him back while Torrhen walked to his tent. "Renly, Rickard, go and relax. I'll let you know when I need you." The two men walked away as he entered. He made his way to his bed, removing his gloves and unbuckling his sword belt. As he sat down, he interlocked his fingers and stretched them overhead before laying back and allowing himself to relax. For a few precious and all too brief moments, he allowed himself to just slip away from all the war and chaos surrounding him. His thoughts drifted to home, to his family, to…Dacey. Oh gods, how he missed her! He remembered how much his heart seemed to ache as they parted at Riverrun, wishing she could come with him, but she was one of Robb's personal guards. Her place was at her king's side, or so Robb said, which gave him a stab of jealousy through his heart. But then he laughed at how ridiculous the feeling was. What reason did he have to be jealous? Robb had never shown any sort of romantic interest in her, and he was promised to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. Rising, he strode over to a nearby table where parchment, a quill and inkwell were located, he sat down and began to arrange his thoughts. After a few moments, he put quill to parchment and began to write.

To Lord Tywin Lannister,

I, Torrhen Swordbreaker of House Stark, Prince of Winterfell, on this day and at this time write this letter to inform you of the condition and treatment of the survivors of the garrison of Stone Hedge. They have been well cared for and are in good spirits. With the authority granted to me by my brother, Robb, First of his Name, Lord of Winterfell, King in the North and King of the Trident, I have decided to release them and return them to your custody under guard. This will be done in order to show our good intentions and to dissuade any notions of Northern brutality. I trust you will ensure that any prisoners that your forces have taken will be shown the same courtesy. Beneath this letter will be included the marks and signatures of all prisoners who have sworn to give honest testimony to their treatment.

May this letter find you and yours well, and may the Gods, Old and New, bring a swift end to this terrible war.

Signed,

Torrhen Stark

Prince of Winterfell

Setting aside his quill, he gave his words a final look over before sprinkling sand over the page. With a firm blow, the sand flew off and only the dried words remained. Calling for a guard, he commanded him to fetch Renly and bring him quickly. Looking down at Rhaegar, he showed him the letter. "What do you think, boy? Is it good?" A single bark was the wolf's only reply. "I knew you would say that", he muttered as he rubbed his head. A rustle of tent flaps drew Torrhen's attention as Renly entered. "Ah, Renly! Take a look at this. Tell me what you think." Handing the letter to Renly, he silently watched as Renly's eyes danced across the page. "Well?"

"I like it. It's easy to read and gets the point across."

"I hope Tywin Lannister agrees with that." With hands running through his hair, he rose and stretched his arms before walking to his bed and grabbing Dark Sister. "Well, let's get this over with. The sooner these men are on their way, the sooner we can help rebuild Stone Hedge and the sooner we can rejoin my brother."

"Agreed, my prince." With a final tug of his sword belt, he and Renly emerged from the tent and strode to the holding area where the prisoners stood apprehensively. With a wave, Ser Tommen was brought forward. Handing him the letter, Torrhen waited patiently while he read his words. After several moments, he lifted his eyes to meet his gaze.

"Does this meet with your approval?"

"It does, my lord." With a wave of his hand, a table and chair were brought to him and set down in front of him with a quill, inkwell, and a small bowl of sand. He sat down with Renly standing on his right and Rhaegar sitting to his left.

"Well then, I shall require your signature and the signatures and marks of your men."

"You shall have them." For the next few minutes, Torrhen watched silently as a line formed behind Ser Tommen, with each man writing his name or making an X in case they were illiterate. When the last man signed, Torrhen took the letter and scrolled down the list of names with a careful eye. Satisfied, he covered the ink with sand and dried it. "Thank you, Ser Tommen. Guards, see that every man gets three days of food and water. Renly, have Captain Bellacho brought to my tent at once."

"Yes, Prince Torrhen." As tasks were carried out, he returned to his tent where a small bowl of melted wax waited for him. Folding the letter, he poured a small amount before firmly fixing the seal of the direwolf upon it. Satisfied, he stretched his arms over his head and felt a small pop in his back, followed by a long sigh before walking over and pouring a cup of wine. As he drank, Renly entered with Bellacho close behind.

"Ah, wonderful. Just the man I was hoping for."

"How can I serve you, my prince?"

"I want you to pick thirty men that you trust above all others. These men will escort the prisoners to the outskirts of Harrenhal. Make sure they are kept safe. Can I count on you to do that?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Find them quickly. The sooner we get them on the road, the better."

"At once." With a bow, he stepped out.

"So, Renly, what do you think?"

"I think you've done well. As well as I could imagine. I'm not familiar with this sort of thing."

"Neither am I. I just hope I'm not making a mistake, but we can't take them with us all the way back to Riverrun and Robb. They'll drain our stores, and I can't risk them being kept with Lord Bracken. He's lost too much to these men. I fear that his judgment would be clouded, and I will not have Lannister soldiers hanging from the walls of Stone Hedge. They already think we're unwashed barbarians, the last thing we need is them believing we eat their corpses."

"You really think they would believe that?" As Renly asked, Torrhen looked at him and was quite grateful that he had no idea of what Joffrey could truly be capable of.

"Anything is possible with Joffrey on the Iron Throne. I'm not giving that little shit or his harpy of a mother any further excuses to abuse my sisters."

"As you wish, my prince."

"Do you ever get tired of calling me that?"

"Not really, no. I actually enjoy it. I always hoped that one day, I would serve a prince or a king. Of course, I hoped that the prince or king would be a good one. Kind, honest, just, and all that. So, now that I have the chance, I'll take full advantage of it."

"Well, I suppose I could forbid it, but I have far too much on my mind to consider such trivial matters as the proper form of address. I have a war to fight and, gods be good, win. I can't waste time on pointless drivel like court formalities and table manners."

"Surely Dacey isn't pointless drivel."

"If I should ever think that, send me to Old Valyria and the Stone Men for I have obviously gone mad." He chortled loudly at such a ridiculous notion. "No, Dacey is first and foremost in my mind. Gods, I miss her terribly."

"I'm sure she feels the same way. I hope I'm lucky enough to find someone who I can have such a yearning for."

"I have no doubt about that. You're young, handsome, and a landed knight. No sane woman could possibly refuse you."

"I hope you're right." Despite the jovial mood, there was a grimness in their words; war, by its very nature, was an unpredictable affair. Battles and lives could be lost on a single errant turn of fortune, so nothing could be taken for granted. Especially not friendship or love. Torrhen certainly felt like he's learned that lesson all too well. He felt so much older than he should feel after so short a time. Suddenly, a guard announced Bellacho's presence. Ushering him in, he stood to greet the Tyroshi.

"Did you find the men?"

"Ah, I did. Thirty of my best."

"And they know what is expected of them?"

"They do."

"Excellent. Let's go see them." Grabbing the letter, he ushered the two men to follow him out. Before him stood thirty Tyroshi at attention, armored and armed, with their leader sporting a braided beard of flaming red hair far too bright to be a natural color. "This is the one you've chosen to lead the escort?"

"Yes, Prince Torrhen. Marenno Bahaar, one of my finest captains." At that moment, Rhaegar padded forward and pushed his head into Marenno's hand, who scratched his ears gently. This was a good omen to Torrhen; If Rhaegar trusts them, so can he.

"Excellent. Follow me, Captain." The two men walked toward the prisoners, sitting quietly. As they approached, Torrhen gestured to Ser Tommen who stood to greet him while Marenno hoisted himself into the saddle. "Are your men ready, Ser Tommen?"

"We are, My Lord."

"Excellent. You will leave at once. Marenno Bahaar will lead the escort taking you to Harrenhal. For your own safety and that of your men, take his instructions as if they were from me. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Good, then I shall bid you and your men a safe journey. Give Tywin Lannister my regards."

"I will. Thank you for your kindness. Most men would have not been so merciful."

"I'm not most men. Princes and Kings must hold themselves to higher standards. Remember that." Following a firm handshake, the prisoners followed Ser Tommen out of the camp and down the road between their Tyroshi escorts. Looking to the sky, he gave a silent prayer for their safety. Perhaps sanity and compassion might still prevail after all, he thought before turning back to camp. There was still a war on, and he had an army to move. Time was a luxury he could not afford to spend flippantly.

(-)

A fine mist hung over the countryside as the army arrived on the outskirts of Riverrun. The rain-soaked air filled Torrhen's lungs as he surveyed the land before him. After another day at Stone Hedge, he and the army headed west while the Brackens remained to secure their lands against Lannister reprisals. Now, they would stop at Riverrun before traveling on to meet with Robb and the rest of the army at Wayfarer's Rest. While he was anxious to return to Robb, his mother, and Dacey, he did feel joy at seeing the walls and towers of the great castle once again. But that joy would always be tinged with sadness as this was where he learned of his father's death. The pain of his death would always be there, but thanks to Dacey, it no longer hurt so deeply. As they approached the causeway, the lookouts called for the drawbridge to be lowered and the gate raised. Meanwhile, Torrhen gave orders to make camp before dismounting, followed by his captains, and walking across the bridge into the castle where his uncle Edmure was waiting for him in the great hall.

"Uncle Edmure! Good to see you!" The two men embraced tightly, with hearty pats on the back.

"Welcome back, Torrhen! Congratulations on your victory! We received a raven from Stone Hedge not too long ago."

"Thank you, Uncle, but the real credit goes to my captains and their men. They won the day."

"Regardless, tonight calls for a celebration!" His words were received with cheers.

"I like the sound of that!" Rickard's words were met with laughter from the others.

"Of course, but before I celebrate, I would like a bath first."

"Absolutely, I'll see that one is prepared for you."

"Thank you. Now if you will excuse us, I would like a moment with my uncle." The rest of the men bowed and departed for much-needed food, rest, and revelry, leaving Torrhen and Edmure alone. Rhaegar took off for the woods for some quality time. Torrhen silently wished him well.

"How's grandfather? I was hoping to see him before we moved on."

"He's well, but just barely. The maester is doing all he can for him, but it's only a matter of time. If you wish to speak to him, you had better do it now." Edmure's grim words conveyed the situation perfectly: Hoster Tully was dying, and it was just a question of when. Although he had never been close to him, Torrhen felt that he had some sort of obligation to sit with his grandfather, perhaps to receive some words of wisdom or warning or to simply give him some feeling of comfort, knowing that he would not face death alone.

"Then I'll go see him now."

"Follow me, then." Working their way through the castle halls, Torrhen overheard the whispers of servants and guards as they passed. He could see them looking at him and could hear them whisper "Swordbreaker", which brought a small smile to his face. The idea that he had become a figure of note was still hard to wrap his head around. He wondered if word of his actions had reached King's Landing and was, at this moment, tormenting the ears of Joffrey and his mother and giving Sansa and Arya hope that their brothers were going to get them back. His heart ached when he thought about the girls, and he prayed silently that they were alright. Before he knew it, they had reached the doors of the lord's chambers, outside of which stood maester Vyman along with an assistant holding a small tray of jars and bottles of medicines. "Ah, maester Vyman. How is my father?"

"Same as last time, my lord. Clinging to life by his fingernails, but he has made a small recovery. I don't know how long he will remain lucid, though."

"I see. Thank you for all you've done, though. Well, Torrhen, I'll leave you with him while I get to work on that bath. Will you join me, maester?"

"Of course, my lord. I'm heading in that direction, anyway. Come along, Mart." With a bow to Torrhen, the three men walked off and left Torrhen alone facing the door. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, he pushed the door inside and stepped through. As he crossed the solar, he gazed upon the bed where his grandfather lay. As he drew closer, he gazed at the small, frail form in front of him whose rising and falling chest could barely be seen underneath the blankets. Sitting down gently beside him, he took a small breath before speaking.

"Grandfather? Can you hear me?" At his whisper, he could see his grandfather's eyes slowly open and turn his head towards him. He watched as he blinked as if not trusting his vision before his eyes widened. Then a weak voice came forth, small and dry as if it had not spoken in years.

"Brandon? Is that you, Brandon?"

"No, Grandfather. It's Torrhen."

"Torrhen. Catelyn's boy. Now I remember. You look so much like your uncle Brandon. He was such a handsome fellow, just like you."

"I've been told that by many."

"I still remember the last time I saw him. He was riding off for King's Landing after word had reached us about your aunt's disappearance. Poor girl. It's a shame what happened to them all."

"It was a shame."

"Still, at least one good thing came of it all: my grandchildren. Six by one daughter and one by the other. The gods were good to me, despite…" His voice trailed off and his eyes closed tightly as if some painful memory had resurfaced.

"Despite what, grandfather?"

"Despite what I did to my sweet Lysa. Oh gods, how I wronged her. My poor girl."

"What did you do?"

"I suppose you know the story of the duel between your uncle and Petyr Baelish when he was my ward. Petyr somehow got it into his head that your mother loved him as much as he loved her. It wasn't true, of course. Your mother loved your uncle dearly, but poor Petyr believed that he had to save her from the clutches of the northern brute. So, he challenged Brandon to single combat, even though his skill with a blade was minimal while Brandon had been born with a sword in hand. The duel lasted only moments, with Petyr receiving a grievous wound. Only your mother's plea for mercy saved his life. I ordered the maester to bind his wounds and leave him to rest and recover, thinking only to chastise the boy for his recklessness when he regained his strength. But then I discovered that Lysa, who loved Petyr, had crept into his room and given him her maidenhead that night. I was furious with them both. How dare that stupid boy dishonor my girl and how dare my daughter put her own selfish desires before the good of our house. I sent him away, ordering him to never return to Riverrun on pain of death for the embarrassment he had caused me. But that was not the end. Shortly thereafter, I learned from Lysa that she was with child. You can guess who the father was."

"Baelish." His voice dropped to whispers as he learned this unsavory piece of family history.

"Oh, I was furious. Furious with Baelish for what he did, but even more so with Lysa for allowing herself to become sullied. No eligible suitor would look at her as a prospective match, especially with a bastard growing inside of her. She told me she wanted to marry Baelish to make their child legitimate, but no daughter of mine could marry someone like him, a poor lord with no resources or prestige. Unthinkable for a daughter of House Tully. So…I made her get rid of it."

"Get rid of it? How?"

"Moon tea. I made her drink Moon tea." Torrhen gasped at this. Moon tea was a common medicinal herbal tea used throughout the Seven Kingdoms to prevent or abort pregnancies. It was used mostly by prostitutes, but for the Lord Paramount of the Trident to use it on his own daughter? "Yes, I made her kill her child and then I married her off to Jon Arryn, a man old enough to be her grandfather, because of the Rebellion. Since then, after all the stillbirths and miscarriages, after all the suffering she's endured because of my wounded pride, I have constantly asked for forgiveness from the gods. And now, as I see the end of my days, I feel all the guilt for my actions bearing down upon me like a terrible weight. I killed my own grandchild for the honor of my house." His breath came in shuddering gasps as tears rolled down his face. "What a wretched thing I am." Torrhen reached over and gently wiped the tears from his eyes. Despite his anger at hearing of the horrible treatment of his aunt, he could sense the genuine regret and remorse in his words.

"Who else knows about this?"

"I may have told your mother when she was here after the siege, but I can't recall. You might be the only person who truly knows. I never told anyone, not even my septon. I don't know what I'm telling you this, perhaps because I feel I can trust you."

"You can, grandfather. I won't speak of it to anyone."

"Thank you. But can you promise me something?"

"Anything."

"If you see Lysa, could you tell her how sorry I am? Tell her that if I could have gone back and changed things, I would have. And tell Robin how much I love him, tell him to be a better man than his stubborn fool of a grandfather."

"I will. I promise."

"Thank you. Gods, I'm so tired. So very, very tired." He let out a long yawn, further reinforcing his position.

"Get some sleep, then."

"Will you stay with me, my boy?" He asked in a whisper, trying to hold off sleep for a few moments more. Torrhen took his hand and held it tightly.

"I'm not going anywhere." As his grandfather finally nodded off, Torrhen rhythmically rubbed his thumb against the knuckles. His mind whirled with this newfound knowledge of this family scandal. He could never imagine his father or himself doing something like that. Honor and duty were paramount to the Starks, but so was family. If Sansa was with child, regardless of parentage, Eddard Stark would have made sure the child was cared for and loved. He would have done the same, as he remembered declaring to Della after their last night together. But for the Tully's, who lived in one of the more vulnerable areas of Westeros, alliances through marriage could mean the difference between survival and obliteration. He suddenly started worrying for Robb, wondering if and when he would have to face such challenges with his own children and what choices would he make, especially now that he was King in the North.

"Is he sleeping?" Edmure soft voice brought him back from his thoughts and made him jump slightly. After recovering himself, he quietly laughed at his obliviousness. His uncle was almost right behind him and he hadn't noticed a thing. If it had been an assassin, he would probably have a knife in his back right now.

"Yes. You just missed him."

"They'll be time for us. I'm just glad you had a chance with him."

"Thank you. Is there something you need?"

"Well, you did mention something about a bath."

"Oh, of course! I had almost forgotten." With that, he placed his grandfather's hand on his chest and rose from the bed before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. As they left the room, Rhaegar was waiting patiently in the hallway before padding over to Torrhen to take his place at his side. "Hey, boy! You need a bath, too?" A single bark was his response which Torrhen could tell meant 'yes'.

"A fine animal he is. I hope we can go hunting together with him."

"I think we would both like that very much, Uncle. It would be nice to have a distraction or two for the next few days. But we need to start marching to rejoin with Robb as soon as possible. Tomorrow, at the earliest."

"Of course. War waits for no one, not even princes." Torrhen couldn't help but nod grimly at his uncle's words. Ever since this war began, time had become a luxury that was far too limited in supply for himself and so many others, especially now that news had reached his ears that white ravens had been sent from the Citadel; a sign that summer was ending, soon to be followed by a long and cold winter. While men marched to war, crops could not be harvested and stored and once the snowfall began, there would likely be far too little to feed all the hungry mouths in Westeros. This would cause the greatest suffering in the Riverlands, with so many fields and granaries destroyed by Lannister raiding parties. He had seen the devastation with his own eyes, seen families standing in the ruins of their homes while children cried, mothers tried desperately to console them, and fathers looked at him silently asking what they did to deserve such misfortune and he was unable to answer them. The sooner this damnable war ended, the better. Not just for the Starks and Tullys, but for all the Seven Kingdoms. Winter was coming, and the cold spared no one.

(-)

As he walked the walls, while Rhaegar slept, he looked down on the lines of tents and fires stretching out on the fields before him and couldn't help but smile as he watched the men sitting by the fires or carrying out their duties under the starlight. These were his men and they had done incredible things, but he knew that they wanted to go home more than anything. How he wished he could let them.

"Ah, there you are." Torrhen turned to see Renly walking toward him holding two cups. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all. I'm just alone with my thoughts." He accepted a cup and drank deeply, savoring the flavors of the wine.

"I hope it's nothing serious. You barely touched your food or spoke at dinner."

"I didn't have much of an appetite. I was thinking about something my grandfather told me when we arrived."

"Something personal?" A part of him wanted to tell Renly the truth, but he remembered his promise despite how wrong it felt to keep secrets from a friend.

"Very." He hoped the tone of his voice would make it clear that he couldn't go any further.

"Say no more, my prince. I'm all too familiar with family secrets." With a sigh of relief, the two men silently stared out over the campsite, watching the activity below and hearing the occasional bits of song and conversation..

"I appreciate that. So, how are the men?"

"In good spirits, for the most part, though they are anxious to return home."

"I can believe that."

"So, when will we be moving out?"

"Day after tomorrow. We can't tax Riverrun's stores for too long. The smallfolk need those supplies more than we do."

"Of course. I'll inform the captains. In the meantime, try and get some sleep. You look like you need it."

"So do you. Goodnight, Renly."

"Goodnight, Torrhen." As he walked inside, Torrhen found himself agreeing with Renly's words. His eyes felt heavy, and his feet were sore. Lying down seemed like the perfect thing to do. So, with a final gulp of wine, he walked inside to his room. With sleep would come clarity, and clarity would bring decisive action.