Brynden Tully

The Riverlands, 301 AC

How many days had passed since the ambush had occurred was unknown to him. Nearing a week at least. He'd made his escape in the thick of it when no one was looking with the intention on riding for Riverrun directly to rally some men to his side to go after the group. Trying his best to remember the many banners that had been shown but he found they had been burned into his brain.

Marbrand of Ashemark, Brax of Hornvale, Lydden of Deep Den, Lefford of the Golden Tooth, Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lannister of Lannisport, Crakehall of Crakehall, Swyft of Cornfield, and Westerling of the Crag just to name a few. If it were one or two then it could just be put down to a few brigands but that many? No, it was clear to the Blackfish what had happened and his blood had ran hot at the realisation. The timing of it was too sudden, too convenient. Either they had a spy in their midst or someone had betrayed them.

But which of the two?

He'd waited until the end of the fight and had watched from atop a tree having lost his horse soon into the fight after a soldier had sliced through the stallions leg. It was clear when it was over who had won the fight and that angered him even more as bodies were piled atop one another and hoping that neither of them were people he cared for. Survivors strapped to horses and taken back west where they had come from. If he still had his horse he would've followed them, but he did not.

And so he waited. Until there was no visible trace of anyone before heading down to where it had happened. Having to scrunch his nose up at the putrid scent of piss, shit, blood, and death. It would not be long before flies and other beasts came to feast on the corpses. Looking at the faces of those and sighing in relief that none were his niece or great-nephew. Obviously, they were far from safe, but better alive than dead he thought to himself. Afterwards he had travelled west himself back to Riverrun but he did not remain at seeing the flag atop the walls.

A golden lion. Those fuckers had taken his home in the days they had left. Knowing then this was more than a mere coincidence. He had to get back to Kings Landing, but how would he do so? It was certainly doable on foot, but far from ideal. Not only would it take months in the midst of war, he would be exposed. No, he needed a horse or to catch a cart that was heading south. His King would need to know of the capture of Riverrun, Robb, and Catelyn. It was clear what was happening. The Lannister's were going to push east towards the two areas who refused to swear for Jaeron and then try and rope the Vale into it. If they succeeded in doing so, they would split the North from the South which would make travelling to and from almost impossible.

Now, who to go to? The most logical would be the Bracken's of Stone Hedge. Alone they bolstered a third of the Riverland's armies. Only a week or so away by foot from where he currently was. If he got there he could warn them of what had happened and prepare them for what would likely happen. If his suspicions were correct and the Lannister's were looking to create a split, they would be looked at for similar reasons. The next best would be the Vance's of Atranta. Whilst they didn't have the same numbers as the Bracken's, they still held a commendable force and would be able to give him a few men.

Brynden removed the cloak from his shoulders, knowing he could not wear such a thing openly for it would make him a larger target than before. Stuffing it under his breastplate as much as he could and arranging the portion which did not fit to look like the collar of a tunic underneath his armour. Making his mind up quickly he would head for the Bracken's and not the Vance's. The first day of walking was easy, the second not as easy but far from difficult. The third day there was a rainstorm which made the ground turn to mud which was very slippery and after fighting it for a few hours decided to stop what he was doing. Following the course of the Red Fork to his left but remaining as close as possible to the many treelines.

He knew these lands almost as well as he knew Riverrun itself. How many times had he wandered these plains and woods? Hundreds at least, and due to that he had the advantage. People who were not familiar with the terrain of the Riverland's always struggled when it came to crossing. Even more so if one did not know how to swim for it was not uncommon for the many streams and rivers in the region to burst their banks and sweep away everything in their path. By the end of the fourth day his body ached. Not just pain from walking as much as he had, but his muscles ached, his bones ached, his stomach ached from lack of food as he didn't have much luck in catching anything without his bow which he'd lost in the midst of the fight. The fifth day he gave in to the aches and decided to rest up. A day or two wouldn't do too much damage he hoped, or the damage would be minimal enough he could get through it with little problem.

He was awoken by a hand over his mouth. Immediately biting down on said hand as he heard a yelp of pain from whoever had done so. Getting to his feet and moving to unsheathe his sword only to find it was not there. Looking around frantically to see a face he recognised holding the scabbard and sword in question. A face he hadn't seen in gods know how long. His hair as wild as ever and missing multiple teeth when he smiled.

"What is the meaning of this, Thoros?"

He practically growled the words out. Looking around to see many others and understanding who these people were. The Brotherhood without Banners. Well, at least he wasn't in danger because the numerous stories from these men were being a thorn in the Lannister's back. Something he would happily accept.

"I heard you had a white cloak, Ser Brynden."

"Too dangerous to move with it."

"Yet you wear it like a tunic. Smart."

The Red Priest smirked, showing the black holes where his teeth had once been. Drunk as usual Brynden also noticed. Eyeing the men with him and seeing if he recognised any others but none from memory.

"Where is Lord Beric?"

"Our Lord is currently indisposed. We can take you to him if you so wish. You should clean, you smell like a dead rat."

Brynden growled again.

"Better than smelling like the piss you call wine, Thoros."

The man chuckled at his words. They'd fought together before, during the war of the Ninepenny Kings. Normally when a person was completely drunk they could do nothing other than slump. Yet not the Red Priest, if anything he was more dangerous drunk than not. It had stunned the men in their ranks and others were more than a little terrified. He knew he would be safe with them and as much as he hated to admit it, a wash did sound good. But could he trust them? Deciding to head with them as they headed a little farther south towards a large hill. One Brynden recognised but never came near as a child due to how steep the sides were. Even sheep and goats refused to go near it and that was a sign enough for him.

They headed up a section that was still steep but not as bad as others to where the ground levelled somewhat. Looking to the ground to see the imprints from people to create a path, realisation dawning on him and having to force down a laugh. Clever. Have a base in plain sight yet a base no one would dare go near. He kept his face as impassive as possible before they ascended a little again to where there was numerous trees growing on the side. An exposed rock on the side being heaved aside by two men to reveal a tunnel as they began to slip inside. To say he was surprised by the hideout was an understatement, Thoros of Myr looking around proudly and stating.

"Hollow Hill we call it. It is rather useful if I do say so myself."

Very useful, but the Blackfish would not give the Red Priest the satisfaction he clearly wanted to hear. Deeper in they went until they reached a large opening where there was a blazing fire in the centre and a couple of smaller fires with some rabbits on a spit roasting away. His mouth watering at the thought. The Lightning Lord stood up and turned to him, wondering why he was wearing an eyepatch of all things and not being able to keep his mouth shut.

"A rat claw your eye?"

Beric chuckled at his words before lifting the patch to reveal the empty socket where his eye had once been alongside the angry scar left by the blade that had done so.

"They say you died."

"Aye, they do."

There hadn't been much word on the Brotherhood for a few months now everything was finally beginning to calm down. Something which was not going to be the case for much longer now the lions were rearing their ugly arses again.

"He's not the only one either, Ser."

He turned to face the man who spoke then, a spark of recognition but where it was from he could not say. The voice was familiar too but he also could not place it. Instead looking over his clothing for any sign and he found it with the clasp of the belt his sword was strapped to. Eyes snapping up to see his and the recognition began to seep in.

"Gods be good, Richard Lonmouth?"

"The one and only, Blackfish."

He gave a mocking bow. The man hadn't been heard from since the battle of the Trident. Being Rhaegar Targaryen's squire at the time alongside Myles Mooton and was staunchly loyal to their side but not the rebels.

"And you're still wearing that piss yellow cloak, I see?"

It was clearly the same one. Not as bright as it had once been and was patched in numerous places with what appeared to be deer skin. Wondering who else was a part of this group and if he could turn it to his advantage. Lord Berid was betrothed to Arthur's sister after all, that had to count for something surely?

"My Lord, we found something!"

A man shouted who had just entered. Lord Beric looking to him with his remaining eye as he left alongside Thoros. Leaving him alone with multiple strangers and one man he did know from many years before.

"I would've thought you would be by his Grace's side considering you squired for his father."

He stated, looking to Richard and awaiting a response.

"If I were not sworn to the Brotherhood I would be."

"Lem!"

Someone else shouted, noticing Richard look towards whoever had spoken and heading their way, understanding dawning he was using a false name to evade suspicion. Whether Lem was short for anything he could not say but Brynden made sure to recall such for future times.

"Where is the little rat and the blackie?"

Another man asked, the one on the receiving end shrugging.

"Left with Anguy a couple hours before, probably hunting."

"As if the blackie is any good with hunting."

So they had a blacksmith as well, which would explain the weapons they all carried. It being clear they were of a much higher quality than standard for outlaws like them and wondering just who the blacksmith was. It went quiet afterwards which was strange but he had no words to say, and if he had no words he was not going to speak. A trait of his Hoster had despised and further added to the nickname he'd been given. Being broken as there was an obvious commotion outside and hearing a yell from someone young from how high pitched it was. A dozen or so people entering the hideout as something was dragged into the room.

No. Not something. Someone.

Someone he knew and the rage threatened to burst right at that second. Someone else was wrestled in too and he saw the sigil he was wearing, growling lowly at seeing the two towers. Had it all been a set up? It was beginning to look like such a thing but that wasn't what was on his mind as he stared at the body of his niece. She'd clearly been in water as her skin was wrinkled and tinged a sickly shade of grey, probably for a few days at least. A gaping wound in her neck where someone had sliced through hard. It seemed to be one smooth cut so at least it had been quick but that was little consolation. Gods, was Robb alive? Had he been taken? Questions, so many questions.

"Let me go!"

That same voice yelled as he looked up to see a raggedy little boy, definitely not at an age of majority yet given his skinny and short he was. A larger boy stood behind him with bulging muscles, black hair, and eyes so blue they looked like sapphires. Hearing a loud hissing noise and noticing the skinny one was carrying an equally raggedy cat with a missing ear.

"Thoros, prepare what needs must be done."

Beric spoke which broke the silence. Catelyn's body being dragged into the centre of the room as the others looked on at whatever was about to happen.

"She was a Tully, she should be given to the rivers as custom."

"She is a Tully, Ser Brynden."

Thoros cut him off as Brynden shot him a look of annoyance. If only he'd been given his damned sword back and he could end this madness right here- or at least give it a fair shot. What in seven hells were they going to do to her? The brazier was fed more as it grew higher and hotter, the priest chanting words under his breath but he had no idea what they meant as he did not recognise the language.

"Leave my mother alone!"

The boy shouted but the words caught his attention as he snapped his head around to really take him in. No, take her in. Brynden saw now. Seven hells, she was alive. His King was certain she would have survived this far on her own but many others had not been so certain- himself included. But there was no denying that was indeed the face of Eddard Stark on someone much younger. After whatever was happening he would be grabbing her and heading south to the King where she would be safe. The cat she was holding hissing even more as it struggled as it grew ever hotter and the chanting grew louder. Only when it suddenly went quiet did he turn his head to what Beric and Thoros were doing but instead taking multiple steps back in alarm. For they were not the only two standing.

Yet instead of Tully blue eyes staring his way, were two dark red pits. Filled with fury and with vengeance which never would've graced her before.

Torghen Hill

Shipbreaker's Bay, 301 AC

"Your Grace, we need to speak privately."

Jon Connington spoke. They were still on the ship heading towards Storm's End but were a few days out still after having to stop at the northernmost points of the Stepstones due to pirates and redirect closer to the shore of the Stormlands. Too close for Torghen's liking, especially because there were many settlements nearby which could raise the alarm. A council had been convened now they were back on course and the previous Lord of Griffin's Roost was not liking what was being talked about. Earlier that day he had suggested they stop at his own ancestral seat which was near their destination but had been laughed off by almost everyone on deck at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Ronnet Connington would undoubtedly attack back and that would not look good in the long run.

"You can speak what is on your mind here, my Lord."

Aegon continued, having to stop himself from biting his lip at the look of insult on Lord Jon's face. Gods, for someone who had once been Hand of the King he sure couldn't handle even the tiniest prick of a needle. Not even a prick large enough to break skin. They all knew it, yet he had helped raise Aegon alongside himself and despite their values currently not aligning they would always have that in common with one another.

"We need to discuss your brother who refuses to step down despite you being the rightful heir."

Not this again. Biting the inside of his cheek and hoping it wasn't too noticeable. He'd brought this up every single day since they had set sail and every single day he had been told it would be discussed when they were in a better military position which they currently were not. Noticing the look of dismay on Aegon's face and realising he was finally caving in and having to prepare himself for the inevitable argument.

"Continue."

The others around the table clearly noticed too as they all stood rigid and awaited on what Jon Connington would say. Not that they didn't know, but it was how he was going to say it.

"You are your fathers heir, not him- "

The diplomatic way it was, then. At least not like the last time they had discussed the topic where he had called Jaeron a usurper and was promptly thrown from the room. Princess Arianne was atop deck with Prince Oberyn and the few guards that had come with them specifically which should prevent things getting too out of hand. Especially now that the stupid name the Prince had bestowed upon Lord Jon had taken root which angered the Griffin even more.

"We are both our fathers heir- "

Aegon cut him off, equally being diplomatic back. It was a difficult situation the two were in. Whilst Torghen had not seen or spoken to Jaeron since he had left so long ago to head for Claw Isle, if he had not changed too much he would be very against fighting with his own family. The same went for Aegon for her fully understood that he was equally if not more at fault for banning him to tell Jaeron he still lived when he'd travelled to Greywater Watch. There were times where he wondered how things would be had that been the case. Aegon could've shored up his armies and joined Jaeron to trounce all opposition not only smoothly but quickly.

"You are the King- "

"Aegon is the King, yet Jaeron made his claim when he had no idea Aegon was alive. Due to that he lawfully cannot be called a usurper."

Torghen cut off Jon, having to force his own anger down that the man could not see the glaring truth of it all. Jaeron had done nothing wrong, they were the ones who waited too long and now they were reaping what they sowed.

"Yet he continued to do just that. A wolf through and through- "

"Enough!"

Aegon finally had enough. The words finally sinking in for him as he curled his lip in anger as he stared at the Lord. The others around the table were doing the same and noticing a fight was likely going to occur he placed his hand around the hilt of his sword in preparation. The Griffin looked shocked at the tone used for he never used said tone when speaking to him, asking quizzically.

"Your Grace?"

"Torghen is correct, Lord Jon. If Jaeron made his claim had he known I was alive then yes, he would be a usurper. But he did not because I remained in hiding. In his eyes, I am an invader looking to snatch everything from under his feet and it is completely understandable he is refusing to give it up easily. Also, he is a dragon and a wolf, he is not just a wolf. I may not like his actions but you will not disrespect my family in such a way."

The tone had quietened a little but the warning aspect of it was very much still in focus. Telling him that if he spoke against the matter further things were going to end very badly for him.

"You are the eldest. By rights he should step aside- "

"Aye, he should. But will he? Nay, he will not. I will not battle with him because unlike myself he has two fully grown dragons at his behest. Vēzos is growing quickly but according to Torghen nowhere near the speed Rhaegon and Lyrax did. This must be played politically rather than forcefully."

Torghen let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. He'd answered back without the same bite as he'd had before and explained it calmly. The relief rushing through him at the confirmation he would not openly fight Jaeron was clear to see and he was likely not alone in such a thing. Yet not Lord Jon. No, he continued on with a stunned voice and if he wasn't imagining it had cracked a couple of times as if he were fighting back tears. Tears for what? He wanted to say, but he wasn't going to add more fire to the already hot flames.

"I see the Princess has gotten to you- "

Oh, he didn't. Suddenly glad both Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn were atop deck to not hear this. Oberyn would likely sit back and enjoy the show before removing the root of the problem but there was no telling with Aegon's wife. He hadn't spoken to Arianne Nymeros-Martell much since they had met up and she did keep her thoughts mostly guarded.

"Queen. If you are so set on me being named King then you will see my wife as my equal and not just a Princess."

The warning tone was back in force but much harsher than before.

"She's got her fangs in you- "

"My wife gives me counsel."

Please stop, he wanted to shout. Before he dug too deep into the matter.

"She is poisoning you!"

He snapped.

"You are annoyed she's a reminder you cannot stick your cock in your silver Prince."

It went deathly quiet at his words as many eyes turned his way. They'd all wanted to say it but no one had said it yet. Well, Prince Oberyn likely had but that was another thing entirely as he got joy out of annoying the Griffin. Jon had loved- no, he had been obsessed- with Rhaegar. An obsession he had passed to his son and oftentimes forgot they were not the same person or assumed they were more alike than they had been. Aegon had been too young when Rhaegar died to remember him and thus relied on stories told by those who did know him. Perhaps this had only added to the issue.

"I will not hear this filth from a Lannister bastard- "

Torghen cut him off, his own voice having a bite in it that rarely showed itself. It took every ounce of control in his body not to physically react and he shot a look to his King who gave him the tiniest nod in acceptance at his words.

"Aye, it is true my mother is a Lannister. One so far down the line the main tree don't even consider her blood. I am not ashamed of my own blood. I am not what my blood has done."

"I will not stand for this- "

He stood up, leaning over the table and noticing a vein in his forehead that was about to pop open any second.

"Ser Rolly, kindly see Lord Jon out of the council. I will decide whether you are to join in future meetings later this day."

Aegon cut them both off at seeing if no one stepped in it was going to get physical. Jon turning to the man they had raised together since he was a very young child as if he had suddenly grown another head like Maelys the Monstrous. Rolly did as he was asked and surprisingly, the Griffin said no further word as he was escorted from the room.

"The Chicken isn't going to like this, your Grace."

He couldn't stop those words leaving his mouth. For a moment pausing as he may have gone too far with that but Aegon simply shook his head in annoyance.

"He can cluck and peck all he likes. He needs to understand I am not my father and he has no authority over me. Tell me, Torghen, do you see peace with my brother?"

"Aye."

The answer was obvious to him. The others turning to him quizzically to see what he would say. Fixing the cloak on his back to ensure it was still sitting right.

"That was quick."

Aegon replied. It likely wasn't meant to lighten the mood but it did and he was not going to complain about such a thing as it was definitely needed after the tenseness of the latest word spar. Sighing deeply and continuing.

"Jaeron never wanted to be King, he wanted vengeance and he understood if he got vengeance he would have to take the title."

He let the words sink in for those listening as they all nodded in acceptance. It was true, so long as Jaeron pursued vengeance and succeeded in getting such he would've needed to take the title which he currently held and wasn't simply claiming to have said title.

"You think he'll give up the crown?"

"No, I don't think he will but not for the reasons you're thinking of, your Grace. Jaeron is a man of duty and honour, he will see it as an insult on his people if he throws it away because they swore for him. If they swore for House Targaryen as a whole it would be different- "

"But they didn't, they swore for him and him alone. Therefore he feels compelled to hold onto it so as not to spit on what people have sacrificed for him."

That was the general gist of the situation. It didn't matter what angle it was looked at because as much as both sides could argue their side was true- the other side was equally as true. They were both rightful as much as they were not, and that was what made it so difficult. A simple word leaving his lips.

"Indeed."