The House of Mudd
Tristan Mudd, an elderly man, was considered smallfolk by those around him, but he refused to see himself that way. Despite his house having faded into obscurity centuries ago, he held onto his pride and refused to accept his diminished status. For him, the legacy carried in his blood passed down through generations of forefathers and descendants, defined his true identity.
Tristan Mudd inherited the knowledge of his family's legacy from his uncle, who had received it from his father before him. Through generations, this valuable information had struggled to survive, encountering occasional disinterest from certain family members. Unfortunately, Tristan's uncle had disappeared to Essos after the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion, and they never crossed paths again.
While Tristan knew that the full restoration of his house might not occur within his lifetime, he was determined to do his part in preserving its heritage. He found solace in the knowledge that he had contributed to the efforts of restoring its former glory, and that alone brought him contentment.
Throughout his life, the faith in the validity of his family legacy never wavered in Tristan's mind or heart. However, he was aware that not every member of his family upheld the ideals of their ancestry, particularly his father and son. His father had been a restless man, dismissing what he referred to as "grump kins and snarks." Having grown up during King Maekar's reign, Tristan's father actively participated in the Peake Uprising and later defended Aegon V during the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion.
Tristan's son, however, had chosen a different path. He became a humble trader and eventually settled down with a lovely miller's daughter, finding contentment away from the adventurous life of traveling the Kingsroad. Unlike Tristan, he showed little interest in the family legacy, and the restoration of their house didn't capture his attention. The only significant contribution he made was in fathering Tristifer.
Tristifer, on the other hand, became the source of immense pride and joy for Tristan. He saw great potential in his grandson and held unwavering confidence that Tristifer would not only restore the family's nobility but also achieve much more.
Tristifer stood as the culmination of centuries of laborious work and the improbable survival of their family's heritage. In an achievement often overlooked by many, he had accomplished something invaluable—he had rid himself of the smallfolk's greatest hindrance to nobility: illiteracy.
Tristan, though he could barely write and, with effort, read certain words, had managed to grasp a level of literacy that was indeed impressive for someone outside the nobility. However, this skill had only come to him in his later years, and as his body failed him, he regretfully couldn't impart this invaluable skill to his beloved grandson.
After the tragic death of Tristan's son, Marq, and his wife, Maris, who both succumbed to the Bloody Flux, Tristan had no choice but to take his grandson and everything they could carry to his good daughter's brother. Fortunately, the brother graciously opened his home to Tristan and the six-year-old Tristifer, offering them a place of refuge and support in their time of need.
As if the gods had, for once, smiled down upon House Mudd, it turned out that old Ser Roger's Hogg baseborn son had become a ward of Maris' brother. Despite his illegitimate status, this young man had received a martial education and was well-versed in sums and letters. Addam Waters, as he was known, held no aversion to sharing his knowledge with Tristifer. On the contrary, he was delighted to have someone with whom he could discuss books and the learned arts.
In a twist of fate, Tristifer found a kindred spirit in Addam Waters. The young boy's thirst for knowledge matched Addam's enthusiasm to impart it. Under Addam's tutelage, Tristifer's literacy and understanding of various subjects blossomed. They spent countless hours immersed in discussions and debates, discovering the world through the pages of books and exploring the depths of history and philosophy.
Addam's presence proved to be a boon for the Mudd legacy, and Tristan felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this fortuitous turn of events. He knew that Tristifer was receiving an education that he himself could not provide, and it filled him with pride and hope for the future of his house.
While they might not have been aspiring to become Maesters, both Tristifer and Addam shared a deep appreciation for the knowledge hidden within the flimsy pages of books—a passion that Tristan had instilled in them.
Tristan, despite his own limited literacy, understood the power and value of knowledge. He watched with admiration as his grandson, Tristifer, absorbed every bit of wisdom shared by Addam. As the two boys delved into the world of books and learning, Tristan couldn't help but feel immense pride in the intellectual curiosity they displayed.
In their shared pursuit of understanding, Tristifer and Addam forged a strong bond. They reveled in discussing the intricacies of history, philosophy, and various subjects that captured their imaginations. It was through these animated conversations that the legacy of House Mudd continued to thrive in an unbroken chain of passing knowledge from one generation to the next, nurturing a bright future for their house.
Tristan let out a contented sigh, settling into the plush chair placed strategically before the crackling fireplace. He relished the comforting warmth that enveloped his weathered bones, soothing the weariness of his advancing years. The flickering dance of the flames cast playful shadows on the walls, creating a cozy atmosphere that welcomed a moment of reprieve from the outside world.
A magnificent stag's pelt adorned the back of the chair, a thoughtful gift from the local blacksmith to Tristan's generous host. The fur was soft to the touch, a testament to the creature's regal strength and beauty. As Tristan ran his fingers over the texture, memories of his youth and ventures in the wilderness came flooding back.
The door creaked open, abruptly interrupting Tristan from his musings. He turned his gaze towards the entrance, where a sight both heartwarming and bittersweet greeted him. His grandson, Tristifer, now clad in the colors of House Hogg, stood before him, wearing a yellow tabard emblazoned with the red head of a hog on his chest. Though it was a sign of their current circumstances, it made Tristan long for the day when that tabard would be replaced with a finely crafted brown doublet, proudly displaying the emerald-studded Mudd crown—the symbol of their true lineage.
Tristifer's youthful face, framed by short-cut brown hair, lit up upon seeing his grandfather. There was a mix of excitement and apprehension in his striking green-blue eyes as they locked gazes.
Tristan, with the wisdom of age, patiently awaited his grandson's acknowledgment. Tristifer, in turn, nodded respectfully in greeting. It was a habit Tristan had instilled in his young 'heir', a reminder that if Tristifer was destined to be the one to restore their family legacy, he should carry himself with the grace and dignity befitting of his noble lineage.
Tristifer's face was aglow with excitement, and his words resonated through the air, electrifying the atmosphere. "Grandfather," he spoke with a hint of enthusiasm, "I believe we've found it."
Tristan remained silent, his keen eyes observing his grandson as he deepened into contemplation. Tristifer had grown into a fine young man, now at the age of five and ten. The years of hard work as a miller's helper and later as one of Ser Roger's guards had bestowed upon him a muscular, yet lean, build that spoke of his diligence and dedication to his duties.
High cheekbones and a sharp chin showcased his noble heritage, a reminder of the Mudd blood flowing strongly through their veins. Tristan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, knowing that their shared noble lineage was not only preserved but carried with honor by this young heir.
Tristifer's short-cut brown hair was a hallmark of their family, a trait that seemed to pass down through the generations. Tristan fondly remembered his own youthful days with a full mane of brown hair, now whitened and shrunk with age, as well as how his father and uncle had possessed the same distinctive feature. It was a unique mark of the Mudd lineage, a thread connecting them to their ancestors.
The young man's most striking feature, however, was his mesmerizing eye combination—a captivating blend of green and blue inherited from his mother's side. It added an air of charm to his already handsome appearance, undoubtedly making him a sought-after match in the eyes of potential suitors, even without considering his storied noble background.
Tristan eventually leans forward "Found what boy?" Tristifer slides a small chair out in front of Tristan and sits down.
"Well, as you know," Tristifer began thoughtfully, "I think it will be prudent for us not to solely rely upon our legacy and heritage. After all, it is not something easily proven or disproven with lines as old as ours."
His words held the wisdom that Tristan had come to expect from his grandson. Tristifer was right. While their family's noble lineage and historical significance were essential aspects of their identity, relying solely on these attributes would not be enough to reclaim their place in the world.
Tristan's mind wandered to tales of some of his forefathers who had attempted to wield their heritage as their only tool, often with costly consequences. One such example was Tristan's own son's namesake, Marq Mudd. Marq had proclaimed himself King of the Rivers and the Hills during the time of the Storm King's reign over both the Riverlands and Stormlands, centuries before the Conquest. His audacious claim had led to his capture by the Lord Dondarrion of the time and a swift execution by the ruthless Durrandon King.
While the daring and courage of their ancestors were admirable, both Tristan and his grandson knew they needed to approach their current situation with a more comprehensive strategy—one that embraced both their heritage and their ability to prove their worth to the world.
"You are right, grandson," Tristan finally spoke, his voice tinged with wisdom. "Our legacy should be a foundation, but it is through our actions and achievements in the present that we shall truly honor our ancestors. So, what have you discovered?"
He couldn't help but consider the examples of powerful houses like the Tyrells, whose history or lack thereof seemed to have little bearing as long as they had the right connections or power.
"There will be a tourney at Harrenhal within the next year, I just heard the rumors from a couple of hedge knights at the Hog," Tristifer's eyes shone with excitement, brimming with the anticipation of the upcoming event.
Tristan's doubts were evident as he questioned, "And?"
The Whents were indeed another example of a House that had relied on the right connections at the right time. In the past, they were mere landed knights and vassals of the preceding Lords of Harrenhal, House Lothston. When the last Lothston had passed away, House Whent was granted the Lordship of Harrenhal, and since then, they had strived to gain influence and prominence. Under their current Lord, Humfrey Whent, they were probably at their greatest extent, with his sister having been the late Lady Tully and his brother serving in King Aerys's Kingsguard.
Tristifer's excitement was palpable as he leaned forward, eager to share his findings. "That's the interesting part, Grandfather," he said, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. "This tourney is not just any ordinary tourney. The prize money that is allegedly listed is even greater than the prize money for the Lord Hand's tourney a few years ago."
Tristan's eyes narrowed in bemusement, his mind processing the information. Where would a lord like Lord Whent acquire such an exorbitant sum of money? The Lords of Harrenhal, while prestigious and often prominent, were not known for their wealth, especially compared to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, who were renowned for their lavish displays during tourneys.
A wave of curiosity washed over Tristan, and he leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. He knew that prize money of such magnitude could attract knights and lords from all corners of the realm, promising fierce competition and a chance for the winners to secure their names in the annals of history.
Tristifer leaned in theatrically, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. "It is rumored that the tourney is sponsored by the Prince of Dragonstone himself," he revealed with a hint of excitement. "That would certainly explain the vast prize purse."
Tristifer's eyes widened at the implications. If Prince Rhaegar was attending, then surely almost every knight and lord in the realm who hadn't already been enticed by the rewards would be making their way to Harrenhal as well.
Tristan couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. What started as a chance to reclaim their legacy had now transformed into a grand stage where House Mudd could shine brightly once more.
"You must prepare thoroughly," Tristan declared, his voice tinged with determination. "Our arms, our armor, and our demeanor—all must reflect the nobility and honor of House Mudd. This will be an opportunity not just for us, but for all those who once believed that our family's glory had faded with time."
His eyes locked with his grandson's, their intensity conveying the weight of his words. "And never forget, Tristifer, that none of them are your friends. In this grand game of lords and knights, they will laugh and drink with one hand and sink a dagger into your back with the other."
As they exchanged a solemn nod of understanding, Tristan could see the regret in his grandson's eyes, and he knew immediately what the young man was thinking of. It was a conversation they had had countless times before.
"Are you sure you will not join me, grandfather?" Tristifer inquired, his voice tinged with genuine concern.
Tristan shook his head, though no sadness was visible in his expression. "No, my dear boy, this is beyond me now," he replied with a touch of resignation. He took a searching look at his grandson, his eyes filled with pride and love. "You will do our house proud, and I am in no state to travel, even to Harrenhal. I can barely make my way to the breakfast table these days," Tristan joked lightly, trying to ease the tension of the moment.
"I doubt even the Trident could keep you from a hearty breakfast," Tristifer quipped, but there was a sad glimpse in his striking eyes.
The exchange between grandfather and grandson held a mix of bittersweet emotions. Tristan understood that the weight of their family's restoration now rested squarely on Tristifer's shoulders. His physical limitations had confined him, but his spirit remained strong, eager to see his grandson carry forward the Mudd legacy.
"Regardless, I want to show you something" Tristifer suddenly says all sadness replaced by excitement.
Tristan feels his curiosity peaking at the sudden change in tone. "Oh? Well, lead the way" Tristan says while standing up a little shakily. Tristifer is soon by his side and Tristan sends a grateful look to his grandson.
They soon moved to Tristifer's room, and he cautiously opened the door, allowing Tristan to lead the way. Tristan stepped inside, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. As he took a few steps, he couldn't help but gasp in awe.
There, standing on a human-sized armor stand, was a set of sturdy armor with a castle-forged sword leaning against one of the legs. The decorated wooden handle of a knife sat on the waist of the armor. But what overwhelmed Tristan with emotion was the sight of the shining breastplate adorned with a brown tabard. Prominently stitched upon the front was the emerald-encrusted and golden crown of House Mudd.
A tear escaped from Tristan's eye, and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt. He turned to face his grandson, his heart full of love and pride. Tristifer's hopeful face mirrored his own emotions.
"House Mudd will rise once again, and I could not have asked for a better executor of this fate," Tristan said, his voice trembling with emotion.
Tristifer's eyes shone with determination and commitment. "I will do whatever it takes, Grandfather," he replied earnestly. "To see our family's name restored to its rightful place, to uphold the honor of House Mudd—it is my greatest ambition."
Tristan placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder, conveying his unwavering support. "I have no doubt about that, my boy. You have shown me the depth of your dedication, and I know that you will carry our legacy with grace and strength."
As they stood together, the weight of their family's history and the promise of its future weighed heavily upon them. But they faced it with courage, united by a bond that transcended time—a bond of love, mentorship, and shared dreams.
The sight of the House Mudd tabard on the armor stand filled Tristan's heart with hope and a renewed sense of purpose. They were not alone in this endeavor. The legacy of House Mudd had endured, and now, with his grandson as the torchbearer, it would shine brightly once more.
With a final look at the armor stand, Tristan felt a surge of determination. "Prepare yourself, my boy," he said with a steady voice. "For the world shall witness the return of House Mudd, and they shall know that our name is not lost to history but stands firm, ready to reclaim its place among the great houses of the realm."
Robin led the modest mount, a sturdy horse with a simple and reliable build. The animal pulled the empty cart dutifully behind it, its hooves moving with steady determination. It wasn't a magnificent steed by any means, but Robin had chosen it with care, considering their limited resources.
As they walked along the path, Robin's cautious optimism remained. The breeder had assured him that the horse was hardworking and dependable, well-suited for their needs. While Tristifer on his guard's wage couldn't afford a grand and majestic mount, a horse was a big investment even the most hard-working smallfolk could hope for, and this was only the start.
With a healthy sheen to its coat and bright, alert eyes, the horse exuded a promise of a strong bond between them. Robin couldn't help but admire Tristifer, considering him his idol. The older boy's boundless ambition and magnetic charisma drew Robin in, and the thought that Tristifer would let him experience so much more than just Sow's Horn and the surrounding fields seemed almost unbelievable.
As far as Robin knew, his family had seldom ventured beyond the familiar confines of their home. The only exception was his late Aunt Maris, who had once journeyed outside the area and coincidentally met Tristifer's father. It seemed that a spirit of adventure ran in Tristifer's family, with even his grandfather being relatively well-traveled compared to Robin's own kin. The thought of this exciting lineage filled Robin with anticipation, and he couldn't wait to see where Tristifer would lead him.
As far as Robin knew, family names were typically reserved for the Lords and nobility in the region. However, since the arrival of the Mudds, who had adopted a family name, it had become something of a running joke within the village. Some villagers mocked the unfamiliar family, seeing their attempt to align with the noble class as comical and unattainable.
Despite the jests from a few, Robin couldn't help but admire the Mudds' ambition to elevate themselves in society. Their boldness to pursue a status beyond their origins intrigued him. It was a stark contrast to the conservative traditions prevalent in Sow's Horn, where change was often met with skepticism.
As he thought about Tristifer and his family, Robin wondered if their pursuit of nobility was a manifestation of their adventurous spirit. Perhaps it was their way of challenging the status quo and daring to dream of a different life. While others may find humor in their aspirations, Robin found himself drawn to the audacity and determination behind their actions.
As Robin strolled through the village, he couldn't ignore the curious glances directed his way. It wasn't unexpected; he knew he'd be just as intrigued if he saw someone else parading around with a brand-new horse and cart. After all, things like this didn't happen often in Sow's Horn.
The memory of his aunt's departure resurfaced in his mind. Her leaving had caused quite the commotion in town, with gossip lingering for weeks. And her return, pregnant and accompanied by a husband and goodfather, had fueled the gossip mill even more.
Undeterred by the chatter, Robin remained resolute in following his own path. The allure of adventure and discovery called to him, much like it had to his aunt before. He couldn't help but feel that some of the curious glances held a tinge of envy for his daring change in course. After all, what were these folks doing with their lives anyway? Where was their sense of adventure and curiosity?
With each step, he embraced the excitement of the unknown, ready to forge his own unique journey. He knew that life in Sow's Horn could be predictable, but he craved something more. The prospect of exploring new horizons and experiencing the world beyond his village thrilled him.
As Robin finally arrived home, his mother greeted him at the front door with a shocked expression. He heard her call out to someone, and soon his father appeared, first surprised and then furious. Robin could see his father's face turn red even from a distance. Despite the tension, he continued on, as steadfast as the horse beside him, until he stood within talking distance.
His father's anger had only grown in the meantime, and the furious roar echoed around him. "What have you done, boy!" his father thundered. "Have I not taught you, you ungrateful sack of shit, not to steal?"
Robin's mother seemed conflicted, but she turned to his father and tried to intervene. "Husband, please..."
His father raised his arm, causing his mother to stumble backward. The sight was distressing, but Robin stayed composed. He knew his father struggled to restrain himself.
"Uncle, please," Robin sighed in relief as his cousin Tristifer's smooth voice intervened. His father had always favored Tristifer much more than Robin, and that painful reality weighed heavily on him. It seemed he was constantly falling short in comparison to his cousin, or even his father's ward Addam.
His father's gaze remained fixed on Robin as Tristifer and Addam appeared from around the house, carrying a couple of boxes. "Son, don't involve yourself in this; this is between me and Robin," his father said. To hear his father address Tristifer so respectfully and call him "son" as well felt like the final blow.
"I'm afraid I'm already involved in this business," Tristifer replied, stepping forward. "Uncle, wait, this is simply a misunderstanding."
His father turned his attention to his nephew, willing to hear him out – something he seldom did for Robin, his own flesh and blood.
"I have purchased a new horse and cart from Master Ambrose," Tristifer explained, nodding towards Robin, "and I asked Robin to complete the purchase and retrieve it for me. I assure you that if you ask both the quartermaster, who agreed to provide me with an early wage for the month, and Master Ambrose, they will confirm that everything was done within the bounds of the law."
Robin's father scrutinizes both him and Tristifer, searching for any signs of deception. Eventually, he turns his full attention back to Tristifer, completely disregarding Robin. Throughout, Robin remains stoic, despite noticing his mother still at his father's side, sending him worried looks.
"What are you planning to do with it then?" his father asks wearily, clearly tired of the whole situation.
Tristifer responds without hesitation, displaying an impressive amount of decisiveness. "I am leaving," he declares. A moment of silence ensues before he looks at both Addam and Robin, including them in his statement. "Or rather, we are leaving."
As Tristifer's declaration hung in the air, the weight of his words was palpable. The only sound that broke the stillness was the gasp of shock from Robin's mother. Her face revealed the toll the situation was taking on her, and it was evident that she felt completely overwhelmed and out of her depth.
Robin's heart ached for his mother, seeing the distress she was experiencing. He knew that this family confrontation was pushing her to her limits. Her conflicted emotions were apparent, torn between her loyalty to her husband and her concern for her son.
Robin turned his attention to his father, bracing himself for the explosion of anger he expected. However, to his absolute shock, his father simply slumped in defeat. "I had hoped... well, it doesn't really matter. Do whatever it is that calls you, Mudds. I presume old Tristan is staying?"
Even Tristifer seemed taken aback by the uncharacteristic reaction from the man and nodded in response. "Then I will let him live here for however much time he has left," the miller said simply before turning toward the door.
Robin felt numb, a whirlwind of emotions crashing within him. However, as the reality sank in, a surge of rage began building up. "How dare you!" he cried out. His father turned to face him with emotionless eyes. "Y-you bastard!"
The man looked at him for a moment before turning again and disappearing from sight. Robin stood there, breathing heavily, unsure of everything he had ever thought he knew. His father's coldness towards him hurt deeply, but he couldn't fathom that his father was entirely devoid of any love for his only child.
As his mother cautiously approached him, Robin's rage momentarily subsided. He felt conflicted, not knowing how to process his father's unexpected reaction. His mother's presence felt both comforting and unsettling.
"That... man is not my father," he declared coldly, his emotions in turmoil. His mother looked torn, her eyes darting everywhere before she slowly continued to approach him. Robin stood still as she stopped in front of him.
With trembling arms, she enveloped him in a hug. He hesitated before hesitantly enclosing her slim frame with his own. His breathing slowed as he closed his eyes, seeking some semblance of solace.
"I will never forget you, wherever it is the gods lead you," his mother said haltingly, holding him tightly. "I only hope and pray that you find whatever it is you are missing." Giving him one last squeeze, she slowly stepped back, looking both hesitant and resolute. With a small smile, she nodded before following her husband into the house, casting a last look at him.
Tristifer and Addam approached with solemn faces, understanding the weight of the moment. Tristifer placed a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder; no words were needed.
At that moment, the rage and numbness within Robin dissipated, replaced with a newfound sense of connection and belonging. He looked at his two new companions, and a sense of certainty washed over him. Perhaps this had been his true family all along, it sure felt like that now.
End of Chapter
One cannot uproot their entire life without a little conflict, I hope you liked the grounded chapter before they leave for the great tourney of 281 AC. Westeros won't know what hit them.
Please review or DM me, I only want this story to be as good as it can be.