EPILOGUE

"Husband," Melessa blurted before she realized her mistake.

It was not the first time she felt a chill as she saw the huntsman return. Those frightening silks that heralded Lord Tarly's coming had sown dread in Melessa's heart the first time she saw them approaching the gates. That was before she learned that banners did not tell of the men beneath, and she never needed to fear Randy. The only men she needed to flee were those flying silks of beauty that masked a vile heart. Like the golden roses that usurped the seat of Highgarden from her fathers, who bore the true blood of the Gardeners.

It is not my husband, she corrected herself as the host crested a distant hill, It is my son. As they came closer, Melessa could not help but wonder about how much they looked like the ragged men of the Night's Watch who had come south every eve of winter asking for men. The chivalry of the Reach should have known better than to show themselves dressed no better than bandits or brigands. Even a few more days of waiting while the seamstresses mended their banners would have sufficed, but boys always had hasty hearts.

"Why are they here?" Melessa's youngest daughter Samantha complained,"I thought they were still killing the red witch's demons. Are they craven, to flee the battlefield? They are a disgrace to our house."

Melessa remained still, awaiting Samantha to finish.

"No," she chided her daughter firmly,"They could return for any cause, but it would never be one of cowardice. Your father was never a craven. Your brother is not a craven. None of House Tarly are craven." She remembered Samwell with his pink cheeks and love for books. She loved him with all her heart, but he was a craven. He was never meant to be one of the house of the huntsman. Perhaps one day, if he fared well on the Wall, he would come south like those wandering crows Yoren and Gueren, and she would see her son again.

Melessa shook her head, telling herself that she would think of him later. Now, it was her other son who needed her wit.

She remembered that morning when Samantha burst into her chamber, startling the servants with her maester puffing in her trail.

"Father wrote," she spewed out all in an instant,"Dickon is coming home." Melessa had let the maester explain the raven that had come from King's Landing. It became apparent that Dickon would not be riding directly back to Horn Hill but would escort one of his friends first to his home of Ashford. There, Lord Rupen Ashford was hosting a harvest festival to celebrate the last harvest before the winter, and Randy wished for all his house from Horn Hill to attend with his son there. Randy hoped that at Ashford, they could seal a betrothal between Talla and Lord Rupen's heir. Melessa thought Lord Rupen was a fool to host a festival when the war was still on, with the usurper king Stannis Baratheon still alive and his followers far from scattered. Yet Melessa would not refuse Lord Rupen's invitation, especially her whose name before Tarly was men who were now named traitors. Her anger flared whenever she heard the words Brightwater Keep, now in the hands of that scoundrel Garlan Tyrell. Yet she must smile and pretend that she had lost her love for her maiden house. She had not. Her husband had not.

It was a long ride on the road to Ashford, on a wretched wagon with shaking wheels. In more peaceful times, she would have had them take the road to Highgarden and travel to Ashford by ship along the Mander. Yet there were rumours of Ironborn galleys raiding the rivers, even stories of Oldtown being taken, and she decided to not risk the waters. She was still amazed at how her eldest daughter Talla had slept through the whole tumbling road as serene as a swan, especially since Melessa had told Talla of her possible marriage before she left. She had been glad to leave Horn Hill, though, and all the troubles that came with calling another levy of men to Lord Mace's banner and replace the ones that were lost.

"First for Renly," the steward Weiatt had complained to her every two days when he would return from the fields,"then the rose wed the lion for us to be Joffrey's men. We are to run out of men to work the fields, and our winter stores could only last a short winter of two to three years. If all the rumours be true, it will be a long winter that faces us, and we are not ready."

Those kings were her husband's choice, and she told the steward that it was their duty to follow the lord. Randy had raised Weiatt to his place as steward, so despite the steward's grievances she had no doubt of his loyalty. She had made him castellan of Horn Hill, knowing that he would do well to deal with all the troubles.

Despite the weary road, her daughters did not ever diminish in their beauty, and Samantha shone as the radiance of the room even in the cramped carriages. Unlike the dreadful rumours Melessa had heard of the bandit-strewn North and Riverland roads, the roads in the Reach were safe beneath the king's peace. They had taken in freeriders at every turn, swearing them their protection, as if they thought she was going to the bloody wars in the east. She was not so fool to do that, as war was best left to Randy, but she would not refuse any swords that would be like to add to her banner's glory. She hoped that one day they would prove themselves and earn lands or a small keep from her husband, but they would have to do so through battles that was not here.

Melessa glanced back at the setting sun in the west, feeling the sudden grace of a warm northern breeze. She saw Ashford, that mighty holdfast high above the surrounding hills with one wall to the river. A gate opened there to a quay where ships docked. It was truly a sight to behold, for this castle only had three walls, guarding its keep in a triangle. The other entrances on the earth stood guarded by potholes and trenches beneath countless towers, the remnants of the lord's preparations for war from the east or north. She was wary, having left the castle's safety to welcome her son.

She looked east again, at the banners that lay just beyond a stretch of plains. She held her littlest daughter's hand, and felt her squeeze it. "He's home," Melessa whispered in her ear, and beamed when she saw her smile.

Dickon looked and held himself so much like her husband that Melessa shivered unconsciously as he approached, though she knew it was not Randy. "He will be," she thought as he stared back at them. Dickon had the same square jaw that had hardened his father's lips ever in a rough smile. He had the same stony eyes that spoke only of steel and duty. Melessa's eyes strayed to the jeweled pommel on his saddle.

Is that Heartsbane? She had always remembered the look of the Tarly blade, having seen too many times the honour that she could never bear. She wondered why her husband would give it to their son. The Lord of Horn Hill always bore the sword, and with it all the strength of House Tarly's banners. In all her years wed to the lord, Melessa had never seen her husband part with the blade of Valyrian steel. It always remained in the same room as him, even in his bedchamber. "Once a Tarly has earned his blade," her husband always said,"He must care for it until he dies." The only reason her husband would give Heartsbane away is if he never meant to return. Melessa dreaded what tidings her son would bring from the capital.

Banners flew before the host, a dozen riders bearing a dozen sigils. Chief amongst them was the golden rose of Highgarden, and on its sides flew the huntsman of Horn Hill, the white sun of Ashford, and the red apple of Cider Hall. The red, Melessa noticed. The green ones were conspicuously absent. Behind them emerged other banners, of minor houses along the river Cockleswhent sworn to either House Ashford or the Fossoways of Cider Hall. She spied even some of her husband's bannermen, who rode with Lord Tyrell and Lord Tarly to war.

The banners were the first to arrive, and parted then to reveal their knights. The square erupted into applause to greet the returning warriors. All the strength of Ashford had gathered for this welcome, with many families foreign to this land amongst them. Melessa's second son rode at the procession's head alongside a knight in golden armour with roses embroidered on its steel. Dickon's eyes met Melessa's, and he broke into a smile. She smiled back, for she thought her son would surely have lost her amidst the crowd. Lord Ashford came forward to his guests with his retinue. His men helped the knight in golden armour dismount, and the knight quickly disappeared in their masses.

"He looks like Ser Loras," Samantha said.

"Ser Loras fell on Dragonstone," Melessa answered. She wondered who that knight was, most like to be some distant cousin of the roses that Ashford sought to welcome with all its graces. Lord Rupen disgusted her, groveling at this length to those Tyrell usurpers and forsaking the true blood of Highgarden which flowed through her son.

Dickon dismounted his horse, as did all the knights behind him.

"My lord," Dickon greeted Lord Rupen as the lord turned back,"We ask for your hospitality."

"Of course, Ser," Lord Ashford replied, his servants bringing up trays of bread and salt,"Ashford is yours." Each of the knights took the bread and salt as they dismounted, sworn to guest right beneath Ashford's roof.

Melessa's eyes tore past the mass of knights dismounting, past the flourish of half the Reach's chivalry, to her son's smiling face as he strode towards them. "The gods are good," Melessa whispered as she felt the warmth of Dickon's breath as he returned. She crushed him in an embrace, and she barely felt the hard steel beneath his surcoat.

"Mother," her son whispered in her ear,"You came."

"Yes," was the only answer she could conjure before she pulled away. Her son had grown, his voice stiffer than it had ever been. A curl of stubble adorned his chin, and his arms were as thick as trunks. "War changed him," Melessa remembered the smiling boy that had left Horn Hill,"as it changed his father." They all knew now the steel in their lives.

Suddenly, a blur flung itself at Dickon, and Melessa realized her hand was empty. Dickon laughed and picked Samantha off the ground, raising her in his arms and swinging her around before putting her down. Talla and Sylva each gave their brother an embrace of their own, and Dickon kissed each of his sisters on the cheek in answer. He brought himself before his mother again, whose face bore an all too bright smile.

"If only Sam were here," Samantha sighed. Melessa's smile froze, and she saw Talla and Sylva's eyes fall. Dickon took his hand back from Samantha, his feet tapping an uneven rhythm on the cobbles.

"Mother," he greeted Melessa again, his voice even.

"Dickon," she answered,"Is your Father well?"

Her son nodded,"King Tommen has blessed his health. Father marches now with Lord Tyrell, who has rallied the strength of the Reach to subdue that pretender Aegon in the Stormlands. Ever since Ser Kevan's death, the Red Keep has roused in turmoil. The Lannister queen thinks it is her dwarf brother hiding in the walls who slew Ser Kevan, as a crossbow was found in his bowels, the same manner in which Lord Tywin was slain. Lord Tyrell marched swiftly, securing the safety of the king and his court before any other man could come in harm's way. They stayed the unrest and uproar, securing King's Landing's peace. Father was well when I left him."

Melessa always knew when her son was lying. Dickon was better than Sam, much better than their father who could not lie for his life, but still a mother knew. His words dug a deeper pit in her stomach,"What happened in King's Landing, to my Randy?" Melessa knew that her son had chosen to hide the truth for a reason, and she must play along her part.

"Who is the Regent now?" Melessa asked,"Is it Lord Mace, shielding his goodson's throne?"

Dickon shook his head,"A stag needs its antlers still, and Lord Mace had prepared to take upon the role himself and make Father his Hand. In the wake of Ser Kevan's death, the sins of the queens were forgiven at his funeral, but the Small Council has deemed both queens unfit to take upon the duty. Yet the queen went to the High Septon, and a new choice was made."

"Which queen, the lion or the rose?" Talla asked.

"Queen Margaery, of course," Dickon replied,"Only Lord Mace's daughter would have the grace to serve a house other than own. She begged the High Septon to release Ser Lancel from the oaths of the Seven. The High Septon granted the favour in his infinite grace. Lord Mace saw no other choice that may strengthen the lion and the rose after the murder, so within a night, Ser Lancel went from a Warrior's Son to Lord Regent of the Seven Kingdoms."

"How old is he?" Sylva asked,"He cannot have seen more than twenty years."

"The youngest in living memory," Dickon betrayed a bitter laugh.

"No, in the history of the Seven Kingdoms," Talla said,"He was even younger than Cregan Stark in the Hour of the Wolf two centuries ago, who lorded over the third Aegon and executed a host of treasonous lords before resigning after a fortnight."

"The other queen," Sylva scoffed,"that Lannister queen, would do anything for a Lannister behind the throne if she could not take it herself, even a green boy who would drive the kingdom to ruin. Was Queen Margaery wise to do so?"

"You have Heartsbane," Samantha pointed at the sword slung across Dickon's hip,"Father always said that the Tarly sword stays by the Tarly lord."

Melessa read Dickon's eyes, which were begging to be released. "That is a longer tale," Melessa said,"A tale for warmer halls. We have tarried in these dreadful winds much too long when Lord Rupen's hospitality welcomes us."

Dickon nodded, grateful, though Melessa had him know with her gaze that he would tell her everything once they were in the safety of their chamber.

"Have you met my wife?" Dickon asked.

The carriages bearing the ladies arrived at the square when the sun was just about to set into night, the last flickering light in the west made brighter by the thousand torches. One of the carriages, with smooth wooden wheels and draperies of blue and white, reined in its horses before Melessa's house. The driver, a dark-eyed youth sure to be one of those lowborn her husband picked up in the wartorn Riverlands, lowered his eyes before Melessa as he was bid. He gave two taps on the carriage behind him, and two servants opened the draperies.

Melessa had heard of Elanor Mooton only from her husband's letters. "Fresh and flowered," Randy had written in his curt tone,"A good wife for Dickon. Maidenpool would be a useful friend once the war is over." Melessa had not expected a great beauty, but she also did not expect a doe-eyed girl not looking like she had more than twelve years. Her blue dress was stitched up to her neck, and held in her brown eyes an innocence that she would not be able to cherish. Melessa resigned herself to the fact that since her husband had chosen the girl, she would have to teach her. The girl had much to learn before she could become the lady of Horn Hill, first of which to rid herself of that innocent gaze that invited men's trouble.

"At the very least, she brought us Maidenpool's swords," Melessa glanced behind the carriage at twenty Riverland men who escorted it. She knew there would be a thousand more in the Riverlands who would favour House Tarly so long as their daughter was the wife of the Tarly lord.

"Mother," Dickon smiled as he greeted his bride,"This is Eleanor." The girl strode before Melessa and curtseyed. Melessa answered with an embrace and a peck on the girl'ssoft cheek,"Daughter. It gladdens my heart that you could join us."

Eleanor nodded,"It is my pleasure."

"Why is she here?" Melessa demanded her son explain himself in their chamber later that night,"Eleanor Mooton is the key to Maidenpool, as your father well knew when he wed her to you. She was your chance to live amongst the people of her lands, to endear yourself to her brothers, and gain yourself true friends in all the years to come when you rule Horn Hill. Instead, you bring her here, forsaking your chance to bring Maidenpool beneath you and letting some usurper steal your place. Why is she here? Why did your father allow you to bring her here?"

"Forgive me, Mother," Dickon took a step back,"I did not tell you everything. While we stayed in King's Landing, we received a raven from the north telling us that Maidenpool's smallfolk had revolted and Lord Mooton and his sons were dead. It was a stroke of luck that Eleanor was with us in the capital, and we could not bring her to be ripped apart by a raging mob. Worse, we heard that the new lord Turbert Kryce, an uncle to Eleanor from her mother's line, had sworn himself to that new Queen in the North."

Melessa stroked Dickon's cheek,"Does Eleanor know that her father and brothers are dead?"

Dickon shook his head.

"Then tell her," Melessa snapped,"She is to be your wife, the future Lady of Horn Hill. A lady must always know the truth."

"I cannot," Dickon replied,"She is only a girl. I wished to spare her…"

"You spare her nothing," Melessa answered,"You only make it worse when she inevitably knows."

"Could you tell her then, Mother?" Dickon looked up.

"I am not her husband," Melessa could not believe she was hearing this from a Tarly,"You are her lord husband, as you said in those wedding vows. It is your duty to have the courage to do it yourself."

"Forgive me, Mother," Dickon shrank back, but Melessa knew he was not convinced.

"Do you know why," Melessa turned his face to face her,"your father hated your brother?"

"Because Father said he was a craven," Dickon wrenched himself out of her grasp,"So what? He could not beat some squires. I have read our histories. There were many a Tarly lord who did not need to fight their battles themselves."

"They did not fight their battles themselves," Melessa kept her voice calm even as annoyance rose within her,"but they would lead them. Remember what your father said: Skill with a sword does not make one worthy of Heartsbane. Bravery is not about winning glory on a training field. Bravery is standing up for all the terrible duties a lord has to bear."

"The year before your father exiled Sam," Melessa touched her son's face again,"your father was visiting another castle and he put your brother in charge of Horn Hill. It was at that time when bandits struck one of the villages beneath your father's watch, and a lone peasant rider came to the castle asking for the lord's levies to save them. Your brother was afraid of anything to do with blood, and closed his gates to the peasant. He let the bandits roam free as he hid behind his books, pretending that the world outside did not exist. When your father returned, heard the peasant's pleas, and rallied his levies to put down the bandits, he found that they were long gone, the village reduced to a husk with only corpses to greet him. I swear that day was the day when your father decided that your brother would never be worthy of Heartsbane."

"Sam was a good boy, and I loved him, but he would never make a good lord," Melessa kissed Dickon on the cheek,"but I trust that you will."

"Mother," Dickon was hesitant,"There is another tiding I think I am only now brave enough to tell you."

Melessa noted that Smantha was safely away with the master-of-arms Ser Jubull. Talla and Sylva were in the chamber, Talla with her face buried in a book and Sylva sewing a dragon upon a tapestry, but they were old enough to know that what was said in the family remained in the family. The guards outside were Florent men who had been with Melessa since she was a girl, and if she could not trust them she could not trust anyone.

"Is this about your father?" Melessa asked her son.

Dickon nodded,"He gave me Heartsbane because he thought that he would not be coming back. The dragon pretender grows in strength by the day, with some rumours saying that the Vale have ousted Lord Baelish to declare for this Aegon and that Dorne's swords have already joined him in the Marches. Lord Mace knew that the only path forward was a sure strike into the usurper's heartland, and he as the Hand rallied the remaining forces of the Reach to give battle. Even King Tommen has decided to accompany Lord Mace's campaign and inspire the troops. Yet Father feels that they may yet lose."

"He fears that there are still ears within these walls," Melessa knew her son was still not telling the truth.

"The fires are bright tonight," Sylva knew to change the winds of the conversation,"The preparations for the festival are going well."

"The last time they were this bright was ninety years ago," Talla raised her nose from her book,"During that tourney in the meadow, when Lord Ashford's daughter had those five shining champions who were the glory of the realm. I wonder whom she married at the end."

"Some eunuch who could not give her sons," Sylva answered,"I suppose she died old and alone."

"The fire in the meadow was not as bright as Summerhall, though," Talla said,"when all those dragons died. They say that there is a grave there not to the king but to his Kingsguard Ser Duncan the Tall, raised there by the Mad King who was saved from the fire by the knight. Ser Duncan's white cloak was ash, his face burnt beyond recognition, but there was only one giant at Summerhall."

"Giant though he was," Sylva answered,"He was still a man, and died in the end. Not like dragons, which are forever." Sylva raised her tapestry to the firelight, and Melessa's breath caught when she saw what kind of dragon it was.

Dickon nodded,"Mother, Lord Mace did not go to the Stormlands to march with Tommen. He went there to swear his fealty to Aegon and give the boy king to the dragon, for keeping to the Lannister cause is hopeless. I was uncertain about betraying our vows one more time and risking the doom of the gods, but I could not dare say it. I think Father thought the same, because the day after we left King's Landing, he gave me Heartsbane and told me to go home."

"Your father was right to send you home, my son," Melessa assured him,"A great part of courage is knowing what battles not to fight."

Dickon nodded, and this time he embraced her.

A knock sounded on the door, the thick knock she knew that was her guard's hand.

"What is it, Rory?" Melessa asked.

"A servant boy," her guard's voice answered,"He says he has a message from Lord Rupen."

"Send him in," Melessa commanded. The door opened to reveal a pale-faced boy no older than seven, with golden hair and deep green eyes. Melessa was taken aback by how much he looked a Lannister, but she did not lose her courage. The boy stepped forward slowly until he reached her. He smiled wide, and that was when Melessa saw that he had no tongue. His hand flashed, and Melessa felt a hard edge of cold slice across her throat.

Her eyes swam with pain as she felt the ground hit her knees, hoping beyond hope that she could get one breath in. The shouts of her guards and Dickon mixed with her daughters' wails into one dreadful scream, and she saw a flash of red and gold upon the balcony. She saw Dickon return, pressing his hand across her throat in vain, for she could not force a breath through. Her son's face blurred. She was certain it was the tears.

"Mother," she heard Dickon whisper as his hand fell from her throat,"I swear to you that I will kill every last Lannister on this earth."

Her vision fell to darkness. That was good.

END PART I