(Winterfell)
Roose Bolton slept fitfully as images and dreams flooded his mind. Ramsay's voice pleading with him to spare him from the wildling's wrath. Domeric wasting from what the maester called a bad belly, but anyone with half a brain would recognize the signs of poison. His late wife looked at him sadly before fading into the ether.
Bolting up Roose gasped for air, the ghosts of his past fading into memory. Wiping the sweat from his brow he looked to the window in his guest chambers, it was late or early, depending on one's perception. Light from the braziers in the castle yard drew his attention. He spotted Robb Stark and several men crossing to the gate leading to the godswood.
Quickly getting up Roose made his way from the chamber, motioning his guards to stay at their posts. He made his way to the godswood and followed the path to the heart tree. He found Lord Robb knelt before a small figure the Lord of the Dreadfort had only seen in pictures of old tomes.
A Child of the Forest spoke lowly in the words of the Old Tounge. Robb responded in kind before accepting a parcel from the four-fingered creature. The creature tilted its head as though listening to something they could not hear before turning its head. Its large eyes swept over where Roose stood before turning back to Robb and speaking again. This made Robb turn to his position, "Lord Bolton?"
Bolton stepped into the torchlight of a nearby man-at-arms, "My Lord, I noticed you crossing the yard."
"So you followed," Robb's brow raised as the creature whispered something else, "Unarmed?"
Revealing a flaying knife hidden in his sleeve, Roose smirked, "Hardly, even under guest rights one must not be complacent. I am surprised to find you conversing with a being out of myth and legend."
Looking at the Child of the Forest, Robb smirked, "Father's messengers are far more subtle than ravens and far less likely to be intercepted."
"Indeed," Roose frowned, "What has he sent that needs such secrecy?"
"Let us see," Robb opened the parcel and pulled out a letter. He turned it to the light of the torches. Roose's eyes widened as he recognized the runes written in Lord Stark's hand. He was among the few lords who could read them, and Eddard had a distinctive slant to his characters that few would notice at first glance.
There were the customary greetings and well-wishing for Robb, his wife, and the unborn baby. There was a note that word of Rickon reaching Riverrun had not yet been received, but he was not expected for several more days. There was also mention that the tourney was about to begin. The most interesting note was that Jorah Mormont's wife had been found in the company of a slaver. Jorah had been named the interim captain of the Gold Cloaks and in his capacity as such had dealt with the slaver.
Roose snorted, "The gods' irony knows no bounds."
"Agreed," Robb frowned at the missive, "I don't recognize these runes here."
Nodding Roose pointed at the small grouping of characters, "I would be more surprised if you did, they are rather esoteric, especially in this arrangement. No doubt your father would expect you to seek out one of the tomes to help translate. He is requesting weirwood paste be sent to him, it is a rather rare commodity south of the Neck and I doubt even Lord Reed would be capable of anticipating its need."
Robb nodded, "There's a chest in father's," Robb halted, "in my solar. He showed it to me before he departed, and gave me the key."
The following morning found Roose sitting with the other highborn in attendance, breaking their fast on a rather mundane spread of food. The Starks had never been a family of extravagance and ate only a little better than those who served them. With the threat of winter looming upon them, this was more evident as the food on the table was only the most basic of fares and in just the right amounts to feed those in attendance.
Roose glared across the table at Kevan Lannister, "I doubt you are so accustomed to such a subdued meal."
"I am no stranger to rationing my dear Lord Bolton," Kevan returned his icy continence, "We may not get as harsh of winters as you see this far north, but the Westerlands are no stranger to snows and ice that make fields unfit for growing. Our only saving grace is passable roads and ports such as Lannisport that permit continued trade once the white ravens fly."
A grim smile came to Roose's face, "Last winter I spent six moons in Last Hearth, I had gone to speak with Lord Umber on some ridiculous matter of trade. Spent another here as the guest of Lord Eddard before I could finally get home just in time to turn around and call my banners. Greyjoy's Rebellion."
Robb frowned from where he sat at the end of the table, "I don't remember your visit, my lord."
"You were young, my lord, and your mother kept you and Lady Sansa sequestered in your rooms, she was heavy with Lady Arya at the time. The only child I saw during that month was young Jon, I offered to ward him, but your father wouldn't hear of it. I could see it in his eyes that your brother was not simply a responsibility, he was something much more important to your father. I could not be offended by the refusal after gaining such an understanding. Word of Lady Ashara reportedly taking her own life had reached the North of course, and I like many assumed her to be Jon's mother. I was present on the evening your father spent with her after we relieved her party of the bandits."
A snort came from Robb, "Right assumption, but the wrong brother."
"Indeed," Roose looked to Kevan, "If memory serves, one of your brothers sired an illegitimate daughter."
"Aye," Kevan looked to his wife who gave her husband a sad look, "Joy Hill, my foolish brother ran off and died on a half-cocked idea to visit Valyria. Tywin sent word to have her sent to the Rock. She'd been cared for in Lannisport by one of our cousins, but Tywin has said he would have her legitimized and arrange a proper marriage when she comes of age."
Roose looked down the table to where Val and her sister were in hushed conversation with Lady Margaery, "Speaking of marriages, has anyone voiced intention towards Lady Val?"
"No," Robb coughed, "and from my investigations, Rattleshirt claims any man who might have such intentions with her has been readily rebuked. Seems she was close to someone, but he didn't make it to Hardhome. He was taken by the Others when Mance had them turn to Hardhome to await transport south."
"I can understand the pain of a lost love," Roose mused, "my first wife and I never got the chance to truly know one another. My Bethany though was a devoted wife and mother, we lost several sons, and Domeric was the only one to survive the cradle. I am not sure if what Bethany and I had could be called love, but we were greatly fond of one another."
Dorna smiled tightly, "I cannot say for certain her feelings, as we never met, but if she spoke and looked as you do when speaking of her. I believe you were far more in love than you know, Lord Bolton."
"Thank you, Lady Lannister," Roose looked to Robb, "I will speak with Val, and should she agree, may we have permission for the use of Winterfell's godswood."
Robb nodded, "We would be honored, Lord Bolton."
Roose nodded his thanks. While using his own godswood would be more traditional, there would be no one other than his household servants to attend as witnesses. His various cousins would not want to acknowledge such a wedding or the offspring it would hopefully produce. Currently, Roose is childless and the next in line for the Dreadfort is a young girl, the daughter of a cousin who married a branch of the Dustins. Their elder son was in line to inherit Barrowton from his good sister Barbrey. After the girl, there was a six-month-old boy, the grandson of Lord Karstark's uncle. There were others, but none bore the Bolton name, though that could be remedied, he hated failing his ancestors by allowing their patrilineal line to end with him.
(Riverlands)
Catelyn sat upon her mare beside her brother and good sister. It had surprised her the day before when a Crannogman appeared at the gates and informed them her youngest son would be arriving today. They had only recently received Robb's message detailing Rickon's departure from Winterfell some weeks past. With such timing, she would think they only now reaching the southern stretch of the causeway. Yet no word of them having passed the Twins or any other keep had reached them.
Standing beside her the Crannogman messenger leaned on his trident-tipped spear. She knew that if one of the inhabitants of the Neck had been sent to tell them, then Lord Reed had arranged Rickon's passage through the Neck.
"My Lady," the Crannogman pointed to the tree line, "They be coming through them trees any minute now."
Catelyn glanced at the man then frowned at the trees, "I don't understand, there is nothing in that direction other than wilderness for miles."
"Lord Reed thought it best to avoid being seen too soon," the Crannogman smiled like he had a secret he really wanted to tell, but couldn't.
Confusion crossed Catelyn's face, "Lord Reed travels with him."
"Aye," the short hooded man chuckled, "He figured you'd realize when it was one of his who delivered notice of our arrival."
A flush came to Catelyn's face, "Pardon, I thought he just arranged guides to lead Rickon's party through the Neck safely, not that he would come himself. It is almost unheard for him to leave the Neck."
"Lord Howland is crafty, been many places without being seen," The Crannogman nodded to the trees, "Here they come."
Turning back to the trees, Catelyn noticed the row of hooded men riding the mulish-looking horses most commonly used by those residing in the Neck. They were in a narrow V-formation, behind them four riders on the heavier Northern destriers, even from this distance she could tell two of the riders were Umbers, but couldn't make out the other two.
Her eyes widened as the last group of the party exited the trees. Asha's curse verbally accentuated her thoughts, "By the Drowned God's bloated sack, are those what I think they are?"
Edmure rubbed at his eyes, "If I were not sober I'd think my eyes playing tricks. Those are mammoths, and the ones on them are giants. I mean there was talk at the meetings, but, but I never thought."
As the party neared them the V-formation broke and the Crannogmen on either side save for the man in the center moved to flank the main group. As they neared Catelyn recognized Great Jon, his son Small Jon, and Lord Reed easily enough. It took her a minute to recognize Beth as her hair was pulled back into a bushy bun and she'd never seen the girl in anything other than a dress. The last rider had the looks of a Lannister and it took everything in her not to glare at the poor boy, he wore the regalia of House Stark's guards but with a personalized heraldry of House Lannister.
She noticed Shaggy Dog running alongside Beth's horse, but Rickon did not ride with her. Her frown must have been noticed as Beth turned to the mammoth behind her, "Lord Rickon, I told you it would have been best to ride with me."
Rickon appeared on the head of the Mammoth, "But I see more up here."
"Please wait for Wun Wun to dismount before you start climbing down," the Lannister called up, "We need not terrify your poor mother than she no doubt already is."
Rickon huffed, "Fine."
Catelyn knew not who or what Wun Wun was, though she was leaning towards the Giant riding the mammoth as the creature slid off the back. The giant was nearly as tall as the beast he rode upon, and Rickon was quick to clamber from the mammoth's head to the giant's shoulder. Wun Wun then knelt and raised his hand so Rickon could climb into his palm, he then passed the boy to Beth.
The girl had become a proficient rider in the moons since last they'd seen each other as once she had settled Rickon in front of her, she guided her horse at a trot to meet with Catelyn's own, "My Lady." As soon as they were close enough Rickon quickly launched himself from Beth's horse to his mother's and buried his head into her neck as he hugged her with all the strength of his little body.
Catelyn smiled, "Beth, I thank you for escorting Rickon to Riverrun, rooms have been prepared for your, um," She glanced at the two giants, "um, your party."
Beth nodded, "Thank you, um actually we are short a few members. Tormund and Styr are trailing behind erasing all sign of our passage with a few of Lord Reed's people."
The names were unfamiliar to Catelyn, "I am not familiar with those guards."
"Not guards, my lady," The Lannister rode up to them and gave a respectful bow of his head, "Lady Beth and I are the only ones sworn to House Stark directly in our company. I am Lancel Lannister, and I am a guard captain of Winterfell, we met briefly at the welcoming feast. I was the one sporting the bruise the approximate size and shape of His Grace's fist seated with my Uncle Tywin."
Cately nodded as she vaguely remembered the young man seated with the rest of the Lannister household after the commotion of the Queen's crimes had come to light. He had been one of the King's squires along with his cousin, Robert had questioned the boys rather aggressively to ascertain how aware they were of their cousins' deceptions. Ned and Ser Barristan had to step in to ensure the poor boys weren't battered into a bloody pulp by the incensed King.
She noticed the way Beth looked at the Lannister. Catelyn forced the best benevolent smile on her face, "I thank you Ser Lancel."
Lancel shook his head, "Pardon, but I am not a knight. His Grace dismissed me, and not like a knighthood is a requirement to be a household guard captain in the North."
"True," Catelyn mused as she looked to the two lords in the company, "Lord Reed, we were not expecting you, my son gave not notice you would be accompanying Rikon on this journey."
"Pardon for the surprise, my lady," Howland chuckled, "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision on my part. I will beg young Lord Robb's forgiveness for leaving my position in the most capable hands of my son and daughter upon my return."
"Ha," Great Jon laughed loudly, "The young wolf has his nose turned North, where it should be. He has no time to worry about absent lords. Has himself a winter breathing down his neck to fret over, people to see tended to. We never worry about the Neck, your people never seem to need anything from the rest of us and turn up with what we need before we even get the gumption to start drawing straws to see who's going to wander into that fetid swamp to find one of your towns."
Lord Reed gave the larger man a smirk before turning at the sound of approaching horses. To men led another small group of Crannogmen. Behind their mounts, they dragged branches that were heavy enough to obscure tracks but left grass and other plants mostly unharmed. It did not cover their passage, but it would obscure the footprints of the mammoths.
The red-haired man reached back to cut the straps that held the branches to his horse, "There, at this point won't matter, not like we can hide Mag and Wun Wun out here in the open."
Howland sighed, "Lady Catelyn, might I introduce the last two of our little company. Styr, the magnar of the Thenn, and Tormund Giantsbane. Two leaders under the command of Mance Rayder, the former King Beyond-the-Wall."
Catelyn glared at the two wildlings, "Why have they come?"
"Protecting the little lord," Styr huffed, "and the little spear maiden. Anything happens to either of them, might as well let Mag's mammoth step on us, be less painful than what Osha will do to us."
This made Catelyn look to Beth, who sighed, "My cousin's wife is with child and threatened to unman them both if either Rickon or I returned to Winterfell with even a hair out of place."
Asha began laughing as Edmure winced along with the other men present.
(King's Landing)
Ser Barristan watched the challenge duel between Jalabha Xho of the Summer Islands and the Marcher Anguy. The day before Anguy had won the archery competition, beating out Jalabha in the final round. Today's challenge though did not come from the outcome of the tourney, but resultant of an altercation at Chataya's brothel.
Barristan wasn't clear on all the details, only that early this morning Chataya visited Jalabha, and the man made a very public challenge against the Marcher. Whatever had occurred must have been below the level of criminality as Renly had spoken with both Jalabha and Chataya after the challenge was made. Jorah hadn't been sent to investigate further so whatever the cause of the duel did not matter to the crown.
Anguy had even turned down Lord Berric's offer to take up the challenge in his place. The young man might be a master with the bow, but other weapons were a mystery to him. He'd opted for a short sword and buckler, common armaments for archers to use to defend themselves on battlefields once opposing forces were too close to use their preferred weapon.
Jalabha was wielding a quarter-staff, that Barristan recognized as the remnants of the deposed prince's former bow. He had very dramatically cut the string after being outshot at a hundred paces the day before. He must consider this as a handicap to match his skills to that of the commoner he faced.
As they traded blows, Arys appeared at Barristan's side, "Ser."
Without looking away from the fight he responded, "What have you learned?"
"This Anguy paid for the services of three of Chataya's best girls. Her daughter Alayaya, Jayde, and Dancy. Ate and drank enough for some of the finest offerings from their kitchens." Arys scoffed, "Then comes the morning, he told Chataya the food was lousy and the girls weren't as good as promised and she owed him a discount and refund."
It was a common enough ploy, and not illegal. There was also no protection for the brothel or the girls within, as the laws of the land frowned on such establishments and those employed by them. The sad fact was the lad could bring his complaints to the crown, and regardless of the veracity of the claims Renly would be legally bound to side with him. Since Anguy was close to Edric Dayne this could also have further fallout. Anguy must have realized this as well and thus refused to involve them further in his mistakes.
As Barristan remained silent, Arys continued, "Alayaya told me Jalabha Xho is fighting for Chataya's honor because such claims would reflect poorly on her. She made some references to Summer Island tradition that she only has a passing understanding of."
"Explains why he made the challenge," Barristan finally looked to Arys as Anguy took a blow from the quarter stave that sent him sprawling across the ground with his short sword sliding out of his reach, "To the people of the Summer Islands, Chataya would be considered a type of priestess. Why else do you think she runs such an upstanding establishment. Even here where our people spit upon those in her profession she is shown respect by even those who do not frequent such places."
Arys nodded, "Should we do something?"
"Hmm," Barristan turned back to the duel to see Jalabha Xho striking the downed Anguy repeatedly, "I think our friend has things well in hand."
Moments later a beaten Anguy was kneeling facing the royal box, "I take back what I said to Chataya this morning. I did not mean to offend her or her reputation. I was upset with myself for spending so much. I blew through my winnings and didn't even save enough to repay Lord Berric for helping to get me out of the Wolf's Den."
"Is that the cusp of it," Robert leaned over the railing, "Lord Berric, where you at?"
The man stepped out on the field, "I am here Your Grace."
Robert nodded to Anguy, "This little shit one of your men?"
"He lives on my lands Your Grace," Berric sighed, "And has been in my service since he was a young lad. A good hand at the bow as he proved yesterday, but not the best at minding his coin. Got into a bit of a bother during our trip up north. Made a bet he couldn't cover, then got himself arrested in White Harbor. The thing about them Northmen is they aren't lax when it comes to someone trying to skip out on a debt."
A chuckle came from Robert as he looked to Eddard, "There are more than a few Valemen who learned that lesson the hard way back in the day." He focused on Anguy, "So what shall we do with you lad, think Jalabha Xho here taught you a lesson, but you still owe your liege lord."
Lord Berric sighed, "I am not concerned about what the lad owes me, we'll figure something out."
"Alright," Robert looked to the Herald, "Who's next?"
Barristan watched as more challengers faced off. A few had been to redress grievances from the first round of the jousts two days earlier. Two men claimed Loras Tyrell had knowingly ridden a mare in heat. Sandor had similarly made the claim, after his loss to the younger knight, but did not challenge to boy over it. Not worth his time.
Loras easily defeated the two challengers, they were skilled men, but no match for him. Barristan had contemplated adding Loras to the kingsguard, but such would need to wait until the reforms he and Lord Stark had been discussing could be implemented.
While not fighting Loras, Sandor himself had several challenges as well. A series of knights he'd crossed paths with over the years and insulted in one way or another. Sandor was more than willing to put such men in their place.
A tense moment occurred when a rather bold Westerlands hedge knight appeared and challenged Aegon for Lady Sansa's hand. The impertinent knight was rather full of himself and didn't even know Sansa from any other girl, only thinking she was a pretty girl who would garner him lands and titles. Barristan swiftly realized why Lord Stark wanted to keep the betrothal quiet. Barristan had been tempted to step in as Aegon's champion but was not as swift as his own squire.
Jon armed only in his leather jerkin and with Dark Sister in hand had stood as his brother's champion as well as the champion of his chosen sister. It had only taken a nod from Lord Stark for the boy to make his way to the field. The hedge knight had scoffed when Jon didn't so much as pick up a shield. As these were first-blood matches, live steel was permitted. Not that it did the hedge knight much good as Dark Sister turned his bargain price sword into scrap and he yielded faster than the piss running down his thighs.
As whispers of the Dragonknight come again were spreading, Barristan wondered if someone had put the hapless hedge knight up to this. Not that he could ask, the man fled the grounds with a pack of dire wolves hot on his heels. The wolves had returned in mere minutes, but he was certain that the hedge knight was halfway to the Golden Tooth by now.
"Ser," Arys got Barristan's attention as Brienne and Mandon entered the field, "So, how long do you think he'll last?"
Barristan raised a brow, "What makes you think she'll succeed?"
Arys snorted, "You wouldn't have wasted her time or ours with these ridiculous trials if you didn't think she could win." Arys frowned, "Also, I'm pretty sure she realized I was aiming to draw after I knew that continuing our tilts would be futile. I just lack the strength to unhorse someone that sturdy."
"You think she was holding back?" Barristan frowned.
With a nod, Arys indicated his arm, "Preston's shield buckled on that last tilt, nearly snapped my forearm. Had I been using what was left of mine, I'm not sure we'd be having this conversation. She wanted that last pass to be a good showing and saw us switch out shields. Not her fault Preston is shit at maintaining his gear."
Barristan frowned, "His normal arms include a kite shield, not the heater shield more commonly used in jousts. Doubt he'd had that heater looked over since the last tourney."
"Agreed," Arys said as they both turned to the fight. Mandon was wielding his own heater shield and had opted to use a long sword. Brienne was carrying her family's hand-and-a-half sword with its distinctive flame-edge design, though it was not Valyrian steel, just a finely crafted blade. Barristan blinked as she raised her shield. Sunset with a green shooting star above an elm tree. Arys whispered, "That's not the heraldry of House Tarth."
Barristan nodded, "Aye that is the first heraldry used by Ser Duncan the Tall."
As Brienne met Mandon blow for blow, a hush fell over the crowd. Even the loudmouth Herald that Tyrion had hired was too engrossed in the fight. Mandon had taken Barristan's warning about going easy to heart as he was pressing his advantage. No one could claim Ser Mandon Moore was a shite fighter. It was other deficiencies in his character that made him a poor kingsguard. Those deficiencies faded with the death of Baelish and Cersei being dethroned.
The fight came to a dramatic conclusion as Mandon brought his sword down, but it was caught by Brienne's shield with a push she pinned the blade between their shields. This left an opening for her to thrust her blade forward, the blade slicing Mandon's side, his blood vividly evident as it leaked over his white armor.
Blinking the Herald called the fight in favor of Brienne as they parted. Arys was the first one onto the field rushing to check on Mandon as Barriston walked out. Preston appeared carrying another white cloak. As he neared and prepared to start the knighting ceremony, Mandon patted Arys' shoulder, "I'm fine, just a flesh wound." He reached up to pull off his helm, "Ser, Lord Commander, she bled me, only fair I knight her."
Barristan nodded, "Get on with it."
He watched as Mandon knighted Brienne. Barristan then stepped forward, taking Mandon's place before her as he and the other two kingsguards made the customary circle around their initiate. "Lady Brienne of Tarth, knight of Evenhall. You have been named by His Grace, King Robert Baratheon First of His Name, to his kingsguard. Do you accept this calling?"
Brienne bowed her head, "I accept."
"Do you swear to serve the crown loyally and forsake any claim on lands and titles?" Mandon asked for his part of the reworked vows. It had taken them a few days to get the wording such that it was similar to what came before but held a different meaning.
A crease came to Brienne's brow. Barristan had little doubt she had studied the original set of vows, many people of noble birth knew the vows of the kingsguard. She nodded, "I forsake any claims on lands and titles, my loyalty is to the crown."
Preston spoke up, "Do you swear to protect the blood of the royal family from all threats within and without?"
"I swear to protect," Brienne paused as she realized the change, "from all threats within and without."
Arys then continued, "Do you swear to stand with your brethren from this day to your last."
Brienne nodded, "I swear to stand with my brothers from this day to my last."
Barristan gave a nod and Preston draped the cloak over her shoulders, "Rise Brienne of Tarth, Kight of the Kingsguard."
A few hours later Barristan found Brienne in the Pale Sword Tower, she was reviewing the White Book. As he approached he saw she was in the section covering Ser Duncan, "I find Ser Duncan to be a rather compelling read."
Brienne started as she turned to him, "Lord Commander, I'm sorry I was just."
"Just reading up on your great-grandfather," At her look, Barristan chuckled, "I was with Lord Commander Hightower when he delivered Lord Commander Duncan's shield to your father's hall. Along with his other personal effects, not that he had many."
She looked back to the book, "It is not common for a kingsguard to have children, let alone grand, or great-grandchildren."
Barriston sighed, "It is probably more common than that book would ever reveal. Lord Commanders don't tend to record things they don't know about or anything that might paint their brothers or the order in a bad light."
"True," Brienne frowned, "Lord Commander, I noticed the changes to the vows. I know it is hardly needed to state I won't take a wife, but."
"But why didn't we just say not take a husband," Barristan nodded, "It is one of the reforms we are undertaking. Celibacy will no longer be enforced as part of our vows, that will fully be an individual choice. While not stated in the vows it will be agreed upon that any child sired by a kingsguard will be expected to be revealed and turned over to our expanded order." He indicated the shield-shaped table, "We seven will be the core of the kingsguard, but our order will expand. In such a short time we lost three members, which weakened us by half."
"Has the Faith agreed with this," Brienne asked.
Barristan snorted, "I haven't asked, not that it matters. We serve the crown and the royal family, not the Faith. In fact, Queen Visenya modeled our order after the Night's Watch an order founded by the First Men in ages before the coming of the Andals and their Faith. As they have discovered certain inaccuracies in their own vows which they intend to correct, it is only fitting we modify our own in kind."
Brienne frowned, "So my inclusion?"
"Mandon has a daughter," The Lord Commander's response surprised the Maid of Tarth, "He only learned of her recently. Before my trip North, it was common for him and Blount to accompany the King to Chataya's. One evening he got friendly with a young serving girl, not one of the regular whores. After we discussed the revisions to the vows he went to check on her just in case. By our new customs, the girl must be given to the order upon her tenth name day."
Brienne nodded, "Are there any others?"
"Three that we know the locations of," Barristan grimaced, "all boys, and sons of Meryn Trant. Not that he'd have ever acknowledged them. We debated their standing, as Trant died before the revision of our order's vows. We chose to include them. I am also in talks with Prince Oberyn to locate the sons of Prince Lewyn, my late sworn brother had several base-born sons during his time as a kingsguard. I am afraid I lost track of his paramour and sons following Robert's Rebellion."
"So, if I were to have a child," Brienne asked, "It would not have to be with a brother of the kingsguard."
Barristan nodded, "It would simplify things, but no we are not following the knight's watch that closely. Our vows were always a bit skewed from the original source after all, but they will be maintaining their strict keeping it on the Wall dogma. At least once they have their sisterly order restored."
(The Wall)
Jeor Mormont stood watching as another batch of recruits said their vows. They differed from those he'd once said, and he'd spoken the new words before the same heart tree he'd spoken the first set. Not that at his age he was looking to father any more Night's Watch brothers. He turned as Jaime Lannister and Benjen Stark approached, "Reports."
"First Ranger first," Jaime smirked at Benjen.
"Not that there is much ranging going on," Benjen sighed, "Some of my rangers did have to ride out of Queensgate, they had some stragglers making their way to the Wall. Small party, three giants, twelve Free Folk, and a couple Children of the Forest."
Nodding Joer sighed, "Anything following them?"
"Nothing immediately evident, but my men saw some figures with bright blue eyes staring at them from the tree line as they entered the passage." Benjen grimaced, "Took them a bit to get the giants through there, that castle was never meant for them to pass through comfortably."
Jeor looked to Jaime, "What about you?"
"Training is going great," Jaime looked to where Alistor Thorne was drilling men, "Not that Ser Alistor isn't great at motivating the troops, just, thinking it best we not have him training girls."
"Right," Jeor mused, "Think I'll summon my sister, at least until we have a Battle Matron to lead the Sisters of the Night's Watch."
Jaime looked to Benjen, "Battle Matron?"
"It's the title for the head of the Sisters of the Watch, more intimidating than simply calling her the Lady Commander. Also, more accurate as she still answers to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Benjen informed, "Traditionally the position went to the oldest woman on the Wall that was beyond childbearing age."
Jaime frowned, "Still trying to wrap my head around the idea whole families served in the watch together."
"Weren't together," Bloodraven walked up the stairs leading to their platform, "customary for children to be split from their parents around age ten. Also, the castles they were sent to were not those occupied by a sibling. Most could spend the remainder of their lives never seeing a blood relative again."
"They at least wrote?" Jaime frowned.
Brynden Rivers nodded, "Yes, and that is where much of our information comes from." He frowned, "Well, as long as we are translating the runes properly." Bloodraven looked to their resident Stark.
Benjen shook his head, "Hey, I was a third son, the spare's spare. The runes I learned were the ones Lyanna learned from Brandon, and he was notoriously horrible at them." He looked to Jeor, "Probably why Auntie Maege sent Ned the tomes to study in the Vale."
Jeor chuckled, "We are translating them correctly Lord Rivers, my runic might be a tad rusty, but I know my verticals and horizontal arrangements."
"Just as long as someone here can read them," Jaime sighed, "I have enough trouble with the Common Tounge alphabet."
Brynden shook his head, "Maesters still refuse the treat nobles with that condition, there are techniques even the First Men know of that could help with your troubles."
"The maester at the Rock just told Father it was a common defect I'd never be able to read. Not much of a problem when you got maesters scurrying about all over the place like a pack of grey rats." Jaime mused.
Jeor looked at him seriously, "I take it some letters of the Common Alphabet would invert on you, you couldn't tell them apart."
Jaime nodded, "You know about this?"
A snort came from the old bear, "Know about it, Jorah was no different. Our maester said there was nothing to be done. I told him hogwash sat my boy down and started teaching him runes. Once he got comfortable reading those, we started working on his Common. The poor maester was so flabbergasted when Jorah was able to read. I warned him next time he told me there was nothing to be done without trying, I'd make him eat his chain link by link."
Jaime looked to Benjen, "I don't believe that to have been an idle threat."
"Some day I'll have to tell you what Ned had Lord Bolton do with the maester that preceded Luwin at Winterfell. It's not a tale to be told so close to mealtime." Benjen grimaced.
(King's Landing)
Oberyn watched as the finalist riders lined up across from the royal box. His nephew had made it this far, but he was now up against some strong opposition. Barristan Selmy had chosen to ride in the tourney, unhorsing his remaining sworn brothers as well as his newly anointed sworn sister showing The Bold hadn't dulled with age yet. Sandor Clegane might not be the hulking monstrosity like his brother, but he was a monster all the same as he'd proven by unhorsing all his opponents during the preliminaries save for Loras, another finalist had dropped out due to injury so Sandor was given his place. Loras was under close scrutiny after being challenged over the condition of his mare, not that it was a problem anymore as Sandor let Stranger into the coral housing Loras's horse.
The Herald cleared his throat, "Welcome my friends to the final day of this illustrious tourney. Before we begin our final rounds of the jousting, there is joyous news to relay. As many may have heard through whispered words, following the melee, the Gallant Bull of House Baratheon was so smitten with the Spear Maiden, that he requested her hand from her father. As many know both were born upon the wrong side of the sheets, as does our illustrious King. In his great kindness and love for his son, he signed the papers of legitimacy that very night. The crown is proud to announce the betrothal of Gendry Baratheon to Tyene Martell, may their union prove both joyous and fruitful."
Oberyn glared at the wineskin Tyrion was using to pour himself a drink, "Do you need a top off, your grace?" The dwarf smirked.
The Red Viper placed his hand over his goblet, "I'm observing a period of abstinence. Religious observance and all that."
Tyrion frowned, "I've never heard of such an observance."
"It's unique to the Northmen, Lord Stark introduced me to it." Oberyn looked to where Ned was seated next to Robert.
"Truly," Tyrion frowned, "That looks like the same mead horn he has used the past week."
Oberyn sneered, "He is not abstaining from drink, but another of life's pleasures."
"Really," Tyrion snorted, "It must be horrible to abstain from women when you are unmarried and have neigh impeachable honor." Tyrion frowned, "Technically speaking it is impeachable, as he and Lady Dayne were promised to one another and one set of vows away from marriage before the whole realm went mad."
Stannis rolled his eyes, "Actually they were for all intents and purposes wed upon the exchanging of their pins. The only thing that needed to be done to finalize the union was to gain the blessing of their individual head of house, and possibly their liege lords as they were from different kingdoms."
"Not a problem for Lord Stark," Renly mused, "Also guessing that considering what happened in Winterfell, Prince Doran wouldn't have been opposed."
Tyrion mused, "As they both admitted to laying with each other at Harrenhal, guessing they thought it was a done deal as well."
"Certainly," Oberyn growled, happy for the distraction from his lack of drink and that he'd pawned one of his daughters off while in his cups, "Elia was one of their witnesses. All she needed do was say so and Doran would have agreed, though he might have asked for a second ceremony in Dorne so he could personally congratulate them."
Down below Barristan looked to Quentyn, "Loras is more talented than that pour choice in tactics leads on. He is hoping I'll relent and give him one of the vacant positions. He's younger than you and very ambitious, needs a bit more maturing before I'd feel right about letting him join."
Quentyn frowned, "We could appoint him to the expanded order once it is finalized, and then he could earn his place at the table when the next opening presents itself."
"An agreeable idea," Barristan chuckled, "But for now I would like you to plant the young Kight of Flowers on this tiltyard."
"As you wish Lord Commander," Quentyn flicked down his visor as he rode to his end of the pitch. His squire for the day was Edric Dayne. As Edric handed him a lance he frowned, "Loras is pompous and enjoys the adulation of the crowd. He'll go for a big spectacle, and might even fain losing his balance."
Quentyn smirked behind his visor, "Don't fret Ned, I was at Winterfell as well remember. Think I'll go for a Red Viper special."
"Really?" Edric frowned, "Even Prince Oberyn can't pull that off on a whim, and he was the one to coin it. Plus if you mess it up, I mean Willas Tyrell still uses a cane."
"Willas was far too young to be jousting when that happened and was in ill-fitting armor for a boy his size at the time." Quentyn assured, "Uncle would have never tried it if he knew he was going up against a child."
Edric gave a resigned sigh as he stepped back. Quentyn focused, regardless of what he told Ned, it was still a dangerous technique. The root of it was to strike the shield with a glancing blow that would redirect without breaking the end of the lance. The added difficulty came with angling the lance so that when it glanced off the shield it struck the saddle right in front of the knight. It would then wedge between the knight and saddle. Quentyn would then release the lance before it snapped the pressure on the lance would make it swing up and hit the other knight in the visor. This would all happen in a matter of seconds of course and startle the knight, and make them fall.
What happened to Willas was indeed a freak accident, his inappropriately sized armor got him stuck to the horse after he fell, wrenching his leg in ways that nature never intended. Quentyn knew his uncle felt horrible, and thus was born one of the rarest of things. A friendship between a Martell and a Tyrell.
When signaled he charged down the pitch. His mind would replay the following events many times throughout his life. Just as his lance deflected off of Loras' shield, so did Loras' lance deflect off his own. Their movements mirrored as their lances found purchase at nearly the same moment, and they both released their holds. After that Quentyn was unsure who was hit first or who hit the ground first.
His awareness returned to seeing his uncle's worried expression, "Foolish boy, so full of yourself. Not for a moment you didn't think a Tyrell would not think to use that same move against one of us."
Wincing, Quentyn struggled to sit up, "Ow, who won?"
"Double elimination," Ned (Edric) answered from where he crouched next to his uncle, "Nobody could tell which of you hit first."
Grimacing he looked across the pitch to where Loras was being checked on, "How is he?"
"Just coming around," Oberyn sighed, "Thankfully you both came away clear of your horses. I know my brother wished you to make an impression, but I doubt he meant this."
Edric smirked, "I am sure it will be talked about for some time."
In the stands above Robert was still chortling over the sight of two young knights having apparently been flung from their horses by the spring back of their lances. He looked to Ned, "Well, we'll get this done and dusted swiftly enough."
"Finally," Ned looked more irritable than usual, "Then we can get back to the business of preparing the realm for winter, and all that will come with it."
"Right, right," Robert mused, "but we needed this Ned, a bit of frivolity before the serious work begins. We're not built like you Northerners, hard as the lands that birthed you."
Ned nodded in agreement as they both turned to the final match-up, now that Quentyn and Loras were eliminated. Barristan and Sandor met at the mid-pitch and shook hands before returning to their designated ends. Barristan looked to Jon who was waiting with a lance, "Well lad, how many should we break or do just put the Hound down and we call it a day?"
Jon looked across to where Gendry was helping Sandor, "He took a bad fall when Stranger got excited by Loras' mare. I'd say do the merciful thing and end it quick, for both him and Father's peace of mind."
Barristan nodded, "Aye, these frivolities would grate on Lord Stark's nerves. Let's see if we can't get this done quickly."
Three lances later Sandor returned to his end and gave Gendry a look, "The old bugger has no right to have a constitution like this. Think he might have cracked my ribs again on that last pass."
"Should we call it?" Gendry frowned, "He decimated his own order in the preliminaries."
Sandor grimaced, "Half of them are little better than tourney knights. Mandon has decent skills with sword and shield, and if I didn't know better I'd think Brienne was sired by the Warrior himself. I'm not about to bow out over a couple good shots."
On the next tilt, Gendry could only wince as Sandor tumbled off Stranger's back. With a sigh, he went to check on him, "Well, at least you didn't give up without a fight."
"Shut up," Sandor groaned, "and get me a damn maester."
(Riverrun)
Catelyn entered the guest room being used by Beth Cassel. When she didn't immediately see the girl she called her name, "Beth?"
"Pardon my lady," She heard her voice from beyond the screen that provided privacy for a bath, "I needed to bathe, it felt like half the Neck was still clinging to places too embarrassing to mention."
"Do you need assistance with your hair," Catelyn asked as she neared the screen.
Beth grimaced, "I'm still picking leaves and twigs out of it."
"I am sure it is not that bad," She came around the screen. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Beth like this, the girl was Lady Cassel's youngest and last child. Beth was too young to even remember her mother when she passed from a fever. Old Nan had taken charge of the motherless Cassel pup, but it was Catelyn who did much of day to day tasks like bathing and feeding. It was not much trouble as Arya had just been born before the loss. Catelyn smirked at the frizzy mess of hair, "A few shades darker and you'd look like Arya after a day running through the godswood."
Beth grinned, "Are they on their way from the capital?"
"Not yet, the tourney should be completed today. They'll have a few matters to get settled, then they will set out. It's about a week on the road if they don't use a wheelhouse, about two if they do." Catelyn pushed up the sleeves of her dress and motioned Beth to turn around, "No one tried anything untoward on your journey?" Catelyn was unaccustomed to being so blunt, but Beth was her father's child, a Northerner through and through.
Beth shook her head, "No, Tormund and Styr are right terrified of Osha. To tell the truth, sometimes I am as well. Anything that reminds her of her visions can set her off. I was helping the Free Folk with their tents just outside Winterfell, and a rope ended up around my neck, not sure how but it just did. She kind of went feral, like she did when Bran tripped a few days before everyone left."
Catelyn hadn't witnessed the incident but had heard about it. Bran had been playing with Rickon and Robert Arryn near the broken tower. He tripped and fell. When Osha saw him on the ground, she sort of snapped. Wanted to know who pushed him, and how far he fell. She checked him over and would not let him move until Luwin had arrived to see him. She had then scoured the broken tower, and gods help anyone who crossed her path within.
Running her fingers through the girl's hair she found a few small leaves and bits of twigs, but thankfully nothing living. Catelyn grabbed a container of oils used to clean hair, "Do you wish to braid your hair or leave it down?"
"Down will be fine today, I'll just have to redo it in the morning anyway," Beth worked on cleaning the rest of her body as Catelyn worked on her hair. She had missed this, tending to her daughters, and the two girls that resided in Winterfell with no mothers of their own. Jeyne Poole was older when her mother passed, but still in need of a strong maternal figure to set her on the right path. The only real difference between the girls was Beth followed her father's gods and only attended services at the Sept to stay close to Sansa and Jeyne, while the Pooles had both more or less converted to the Seven after Jeyne's mother passed. Catelyn bit her lip before asking, "Have you continued attending services at the Sept?"
"Occasionally I'll go with Lady Margaery," Beth hummed, "But it's different now. Everyone who is there is so serious. It's too quiet without Arya making obscene sounds to frustrate the Septon, or making faces to get a laugh out of Sansa."
Catelyn smiled, "It would be nice if Arya did not do such a thing during her uncle's wedding."
A giggle came from Beth, "I wouldn't wager she wouldn't if the ceremony is very long." Beth returned the soap to the tray next to the tub, "Done."
"Stand up and I'll get the rinsing bucket," Catelyn directed as she moved to collect the bucket of warm water. She waited for Beth to close her eyes and take a breath before dumping the water over her head slowly, making sure all the soap ran back into the tub. She then assisted her out of the tub and brought her a towel.
As Beth dried off Catelyn perused the clothing she had brought with her, an obviously partially finished dress was meant to be her attire for the wedding feast. She noticed several sets of leggings that would not be socially acceptable to be worn in public this far south. Asha could get away with it, as she was the heir's betrothed, and of a paramount house. Beth was simply a girl from a knightly house.
Rumors of Ned's confrontations with the High Speton had already reached Riverrun, she'd hate to think what her former husband would do if the daughter of one of his most loyal retainers were to be subjected to punishment for wearing boys' garments. There would be no saving the High Septon or the Most Devout. She remembered the look in Ned's eyes when word of what happened to Dacey Mormont had reached Winterfell, she felt the Stranger was already stirring before Ned even sent word to call the banners. Though, back then she wasn't aware of Dacey's relation to Ned.
Beth had brought a few dresses, and half skirts meant to be worn in conjunction with the leggings. There was also her travel garb which needed extensive cleaning and mending. A month and a half on the road, traveling with mostly grown men did not permit her much time to tend to her clothes.
Beth stepped out from behind the screen in fresh small clothes. Catelyn had already sent the ones she arrived in to be burned as they were far beyond saving. She frowned, "Beth you did not bring anything to sleep in other than your small clothes?"
"It's too warm here, we are already getting the autumn chill back home," Beth sighed, "I think I have a slip I was using on the trip here." She pulled a night shift from her saddle bag, "Might be a bit worn though."
Sighing, Catelyn shook her head, "I have some material left over from making more appropriate garb for this weather, we can work on making you a few items tomorrow." Catelyn pulled back the covers on the bed, and Beth obediently climbed in, "Now, I must know, what is going on between you and that Lannister boy?"
Beth flushed, "Um, nothing, we just sometimes watch Rickon together."
"Yes, and Jeyne's first kiss wasn't a blindfolded Jon Snow at last year's harvest festival," Catelyn mused, the teens were all supposed to be blindfolded in the harvest dance, but Jeyne had peeked and slipped ahead of Sansa to try and be across from Robb when the music stopped. Theon had also peeked, intending to Sansa. Ned had chuckled as he motioned for the music to stop. Jeyne was paired with Jon, not a horrible outcome, and Theon was paired with Alys Karstark.
"He's nice, and there aren't many others our age among Winterfell's guards," Beth stated plainly.
Catelyn blinked, "Guards? Beth why are you calling yourself a guard, you are a young lady of a knightly house."
"I'm a spear maiden, we don't need ladies. Someone will have to protect Winterfell when Robb takes the men to fight the Others at the Wall." Beth gave her a look Catelyn felt held the same steel as her father, "Who else will do it?"
Catelyn placed her palm on the girl's cheek, "You are right, I just forgot you and Arya aren't the little girls that crawled around my feet as I taught Sansa and Jeyne to sew their House Emblems anymore."
After making sure Beth was comfortable and on her way to sleep, she exited the room. Not surprised to see Asha present with one of her crew, "Guard the door, if anyone tries entering without good reason, you have my okay to make their insides their outsides."
Catelyn gave her good sister a look, "That's a tad overzealous."
"Mind telling my good sister what you and Taven overheard this evening?" Asha asked the Iron Born.
He nodded, "Septon was whining to some Greenlanders that it was unseemly another girl who spits in the face of the natural order the gods set in place was allowed to rest beneath Lord Hoster's roof."
Sighing Catelyn rubbed her brow, "I'll have words with him in the morning. Please refrain from killing anyone. Just knock them out and have one of the patrolling guards take them to the dungeon until we can deal with them."
