Arya
I asked about the name Bear Island and Lyanna tells me because the Mormonts are skin changers who turn into bears! I think it is a jape though. Maester Tallan snickered when I asked him before sending me away with a piece of chocolate as if I'm a babe no older than Rickon. My time here It's a mixed bag. I find sisters in Lyanna and Jorelle, mayhaps even grumpy Alysane, but tis not as wild a place as I first figured. For sure, I train in weapons and ride horses, but I also sew and wear dresses like some dainty lady. Tell Bran that part and I'll beat you bloody! And don't smile too much, 'tis not funny you stupid prince.
Though I wish I could have seen Bran fighting a goose and you tackling him. I've learned firsthand of your love of critters. You'll be happy to know I feed the local cats I catch these days. I suppose you are right. It would be ill done otherwise. Syrio thinks I'm progressing well. He said I have the grace of a true water dancer! I really do hope so!
Promise me Tommen, you won't be too noble. It could get you killed. Just stick your foe with the point end! My brother Jon told me that in my first lesson and it seems good advice.
You shall have to best me before you can wed Sansa! Those are the rules Tommen and I shall not go easy on you. You have my word as a Stark of Winterfell.
I'm sorry I haven't named the dagger you gave me yet. Nothing seems quite right. Hope you can forgive me. Tell Bran I love the dumb idiot(Really dumb) and pelt him with a snowball if you have one. If none are available, a punch to the shoulder shall work. Have you ever made a snowball? Maybe you haven't? When you see me next, I shall show you how to make one and mayhaps have a snowball fight. A Stark family tradition. You'll love it, I promise!
Until then
Your friend Arya
Arya gazed over her work only once. She prided herself on not making any mistakes. Syrio says to use the pen is like using the sword. You can't take back a stroke on the battlefield. Her arm twisted back painfully. "Got you Stark!" Lyanna smirked as she threw her onto the bed face first. He also told her to keep an ear open for sounds.
She huffed. I can't do both at the same time!
"No fair! I was writing a letter!" Arya squirmed.
"Mormont, a strong five wins! Stark only a sad, lonely three."
"What? It was four!"
Lyanna snorted. "Wolves don't count."
Arya scowled, still not willing to admit defeat. The game was a simple one: sneak up on one another and pin them to the ground until they yielded. Lyanna knew the castle better than her. It's not fair! Her face was turning red from being pressed to the bed and the strength was leaving her limbs. "Frankly, Arya, this is sad. Just say I yield the battle is lost." It hurt to talk, but it hurt more to give up. Her hand tapped frantically on the bed.
"Yield." She mumbled.
Lyanna still didn't get off. "Who were your writing to, anyway?" Her cheeks reddened lightly.
"None of your business!"
A wicked glint shined in her brown eyes as she ran to the desk and snatched it up. Arya lunged as well, but was too slow to tackle her to the ground. "Give that back!" Arya demanded, as Lyanna had it at arm's length on the ground.
Lyanna giggled madly. "Crowned Prince Tommen! You plotting to steal your sister's betrothed?"
Arya wanted to die.
"Don't be stupid! He's just a friend."
A very dumb friend who didn't write as much as he should. She wrapped her arm around Lyanna's neck and yanked her back with her legs locking around her sides. "Now let it go!" Lyanna was as stubborn as a bear and fought for a moment before succumbing. Still, she was smiling like a victor as she released the parchment, which Arya seized protectively.
"Fret not, Arya. I shall keep such a wicked plot secret." She winked. "And I shall speak not a word to Jory." That possibility made her shiver. Jory was almost as bad as Sansa with her silly songs of gallant knights and noble princes, but Jory loved tales of warrior maidens taking their loves at sword point. It would have appalled Sansa. Not being rescued from dragons in far away towers by shiny knights on white steeds.
Arya nodded. "He really is only a friend."
Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Well, is your friend a pretty southern boy?"
She ignored her and raised a brow. She was supposed to be with Alysane at this time of day. "They sent you to get me, didn't they?"
If Lyanna was surprised at her deduction, she didn't show it. "That I was Arya. My beloved elder of a sister wishes to speak with you."
Arya locked the letter in her desk safe from prying eyes and followed Lyanna down the hallways. She was wrong. I don't love Prince Tommen. Though it was a bit of a lie, she would always love him in a way. He gave her a valyrian steel dagger. She still blushed thinking about it. Prince Tommen, still sweaty from the training yard, smiled when he saw her. "Arya! "He said cheerfully. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Sorry Tommen." She replied as she balanced on one leg. "I've been busy training."
He nodded, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I have a gift I wish to give." He drew his dagger into the light of the day. It glistened in the sunlight. "Tis no Dark Sister, but I hope you like it." Anyone else and she would have considered it some cruel jape, but Tommen was too kindhearted to do that. She lost her nerve gazing at it.
"You are giving it to me?"
Tommen smiled. "Yes!" How he was related to Prince Joffrey she would never understand. "You are brave, and spirited, much like Bran. If he has a valyrian steel dagger, you should too." She told him she secretly dreamed of getting a valyrian steel sword like her hero Visenya. It was easy to talk with friendly Prince Tommen. Her mouth felt dry. Only Jon had ever given her something so precious with Needle. She grabbed the hilt, perfectly balanced and light. She could have kissed him for it. "If you don't like it I-" Arya all, but assaulted him like they did in the darkened hallways, hugging him fiercely.
"Thank you! Thank you! Tommen, thank you so very much." He did little talking save a light groan as she was strangling him. It was the best gift she could have ever received. Nothing could have come close.
"Glad you like it." With their noses touching, he whispered sheepishly. He was pretty in a soft southern way, much like the Kingslayer. He looked as a king should be. Blond curls that were longer than her own, with bright green eyes. Should she kiss him? Arya wondered, not understanding the feeling in her chest, but the moment passed when she heard the light cough of disapproval from Ser Arys in the distance. He was annoyed with Tommen for running off without escort as he yanked both of them up. And she was secretly thankful that he saved her from doing something foolish.
Arya knew she didn't love the dumb prince like a stupid girl. I was just happy about the dagger! And she almost believed that save a hint of doubt in the back of her mind that regretted not kissing him. She opened the door to Alysane's solar. She was acting Lady of Bear Island and had taken up her mother's office. The Old She Bear of Bear Island Maege Mormont. Everyone said Alysane was most like her mother: short, with an icy taciturn expression, and like her mother, she wore chain mail even in private. She gazed at her with disapproval, and Arya sulked sheepishly into the chair, recalling the reason. To the right of her Syrio stood, arms crossed, with a disappointed gaze.
"You skipped out on your lessons with Lady Alenya on courtesy."
"It was just one lesson." Arya said, undaunted. She was a Stark of Winterfell, and even a taciturn she-bear didn't frighten her.
"That is your defense?" Alysane snorted. "You shall offer your apologies to Lady Alenya for such disrespect. Her lessons are just as important as the training yard." They were dull and stupid. She didn't like them at all. What use did such girly things have? "I've spoken with your dance instructor. No Water Dancing for a week as punishment."
Arya shot up. "What? No fair!" It was just one stupid lesson. "You can't!" She knew it was absolutely the wrong thing to say the moment it left her lips.
"I can and I will." Alysane said, eyes narrowing. "I have two children of my own loins. Your behavior needs correction.
"But-"
"Shall I make it two weeks?"
"Syrio!" She gazed at him pleading.
Syrio sighed. "Child, such puppy eyes shall do you no favor. You should have no ran off from your responsibilities."
Arya's scowl deepened. She didn't expect Syrio to agree with the no nonsense Alysane. He leaned forward and patted her shoulder. "Why are you so opposed to such lessons? A water dancer must be well cultured. Do you think the great Syrio Fornell only thinks of a sword and nothing else? Only butchers think of such child."
"It's girly." Arya mumbled. She didn't want to be seen like that. She was going to be a warrior like Visenya or Nymeria. I'm no lady laughing and giggling over boys.
"Girly?" He pointed at the she bear. "I've seen her swirl around the dance floor like a true dancer and throw an axe in the courtyard like she was born to do it! Life is not so black and white, my pupil. Don't limit yourself based on your perceived notions." She had never really thought of it like that. It was either be a giggly girl like Jeyne Poole or an amazing warrior of great renown, like Visenya. When she wielded Dark Sister, no one was her equal. That wasn't much of a choice in her mind.
"I can do both?" It baffled her it was even a choice. I can do that?
Syrio smiled. "Of course." His voice was warm with praise.
Suddenly, Arya felt very foolish for her outburst and apologized swiftly. "I shall apologize to Lady Alenya for my poor behavior." She promised. Her father taught her one's word was very important and should be honored once given. "I meant no disrespect to her." Lady Aleyna was always very kind to her and gave her no special treatment for being a Stark of Winterfell. None of the Mormonts did. Alysane Mormont only gave a light grunt of acknowledgement.
Later that evening, when she returned to her quarters, she emptied her chest and pulled out Needle. She thought of Jon in the east with King Robert. No word had come from him since he departed with His Grace. She missed him. He won't even recognize me when I see him again! The anger she felt for not taking her with him had faded. She hoped he would be okay. One day I shall face him in the courtyard and I shall win and he shall tussle my hair and name her his sister. Then she pulled out the dagger noble Tommen gave her. A name finally came to her.
"Golden Sister." She whispered.
It was a gift without equal.
Catelyn
She read every word, hands shaking by the end. Robb. My sweet Robb. A moment of weakness struck her and she was faint. "My lady?" Maester Luwin asked with a concerned look. Lysa had done this. Her sister and done this and certainly more. What was wrong with her? But nothing mattered. She tried to hurt her babe. Her firstborn, Robb.
"It seems I shall need to head to Riverrun." Catelyn handed him the letter from her brother Edmure's hand.
"This is grave news, my lady." He agreed. "But must you head south? Are you not needed here?" How could he have said such? Her own sister almost murdered her boy.
"My sister was behind this, and who knows what other dark deeds? I need to speak with her. My family needs the truth." Did she really kill Jon Arryn? Or was it solely Littlefinger who had done such? How could Lysa have done any of this? Where did the young sweet girl go? How had she become so unhinged? Catelyn didn't understand it, but she needed to face her and uncover whatever secrets Jon Arryn and so many men have died for. Secrets that have placed her husband and son in danger. She also thought of her nephew and the danger he was in.
Maester Luwin stroked his chin. "And little Lord Rickon? He needs his mother, does he not?"
It did not sway Catelyn. "Yourself, Ser Rodrick, and the rest of the household shall serve and protect Rickon." A small, wry smile formed. "Besides, I doubt he shall feel my absence too strongly. His wolf and him are tied to the hip." She thanks the Old Gods once more for sending those guardians to protect her children. Lady had saved them from Littlefinger's wicked intention. His sly smile that gazed at her daughter with wanton desire made her skin crawl. "Shaggydog shall not be put in the kennel ser. No matter what anyone wishes."
He dipped his head.
By morning, all of Winterfell knew of her planned departure. I wished for a small guard. She didn't wish Rickons security to suffer, but Ser Rodrick was adamant otherwise. They had compromised on six of Ser Rodrick's best men, or at least those Ned didn't take South with him. Catelyn departed Old Nan's room. She had to make sure she didn't speak any frightening stories that would give her boy nightmares. She wouldn't be there to soothe them away. "Of course, my lady. Not even if he pleads otherwise." She had given her thanks.
Around the corner Rickon came sprinting, with Shaggydog by his side. "Can I come with you mother!" He cried out, his eyes growing bigger. "I want to see Riverrun!"
She chuckled, bending down to his level, and noted the dirt on his cheek. "My brave, dirty little boy." She remedied that, quickly rubbing it off to his groans and complaints. "Your place is here in Winterfell." Catelyn used Ned's words. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
Rickon hugged her leg tightly. His eyes were teary, but he didn't cry. "It's okay, mother. I shall see you again. I dreamed it!" He beamed, and she wrapped her youngest in a tight, loving embrace only a mother could give. She found she was teary-eyed by the end as well.
"You shall be good to Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrick, won't you?"
"As along as they don't make me go to bed early!"
"Rickon…"
He crunched up, his face tight, before sighing in agreement. "Fine! Come on Shaggy, let's go explore the crypts!" He took off running.
"And no running!" She called out in vain as he disappeared from view. Seven help the household. They'll need it.
She descended towards the courtyard where her party had been assembled. Six brave leal men to see her to her ancestral home of Riverrun. Ser Rodrick came walking with a quick step. "Lady Stark! Wait! Lord Tyrion wishes a word." The request was absurd. It was the last thing she wanted to do with her party ready to depart. My boy needs me.
"It shall have to wait for my return ser."
"He claims to have knowledge of Lady Lysa."
The words gave her pause. A Lannister trick. But it gnawed at her. Tyrion Lannister spent time in Kings Landing. Mayhaps he knew something of importance? He knows that and shall want something for it. He is no man of honor. But she had precious little choice. "We shall depart in an hour, then." I'll give one hour to sway me otherwise. The rooms they afforded him were spacious as befit, a prisoner of noble birth. Though the staff had been instructed to speak sparingly with him. The imp had a low cunning to him, she disliked. He's our captive, and he carries himself otherwise. Though she could attach no crime to Lord Tyrion, he was still the son of Tywin Lannister and should be treated carefully. She found him, as she suspected, reading a book provided by Maester Luwin sprawled lazily on the bed. Lord Tyrions mismatched eyes sparkled when he saw her and he sat up and stretched his little legs. "Lady Stark. Very prompt of you." He noted.
"Speak swiftly, Lannister. I have no time for japes."
"Of course you don't. Flying down south in such a hurry." He placed his hand over his breast. "My condolences for Lord Robb, such a brave lad."
"My son isn't dead." Her lips perched up in a thin line.
Lord Tyrion smirked. "Not if your sister had her way. What a monster she must be. Was she dropped as a babe?" His voice repulsed her. It dripped with Lannister mockery.
Her eyes narrowed. "We are done, my lord. You know nothing."
"I know many things." Lord Tyrion promised. She had heard enough of Lannister lies and turned to depart. "Could you really depart with an even a sliver of doubt I know something? We Lannisters are a devious bunch and keep secrets close to the chest." Her hand touched the door, leaning against it. His words weakened her resolve as she thought of Robb bleeding in the Godswood.
"Yet you've given me nothing."
Lord Tyrion waddled over. "Oh, like how Lord Baelish told everyone he fucked you and took your maidenhead."
Catelyn bristled. "That's a lie!" She had only been with her Ned.
"No doubt." Lord Tyrion said. "But he claimed it all the same." And what was the connection? Lysa, in her letter, was clearly obsessed with him. Had Petyr found her when she was vulnerable? He was dead. But it still didn't explain why she attacked her Robb. Or if she killed Lord Jon?
"I don't understand the relevance of such slander."
"You shall, if you swear you shall take me with you to Riverrun. I do so wish to stretch my legs."
Catelyn laughed weakly at the audacity of the request. "And how do you know I won't just leave you here after you tell me your secrets?"
Lord Tyrion chuckled. "Because you are a woman of honor, Lady Stark." Lord Tyrion was wrong. There was much she would do to keep her children safe. Including swearing, these oaths.
"I swear by my honor as a daughter of House Tully, as a mother, as a sister, by the Old Gods and the New to take you with me should you satisfy myself as honest with your words. Do you swear to be honest and truthful?"
"Cross my darkened shrivelled heart."
"Then honor your pledge, my lord."
Lord Tyrion's lips formed a graceful smile. "Excellent!' He cartwheeled back to the bed with the grace of an acrobat. She raised a brow as he patted the bed beside of him.
"I'll stand." She voiced icily.
"As you wish." Lord Tyrion replied. "It might be a long tale. If your knees grow wobbly, don't blame me, Lady Stark. I shall enjoy myself on this soft feathery bed." She gazed downward, studying him for any deceit as he told his tale. He named Littlefinger words genuine, but not factual. According to him, he actually believed such a lie because he laid with Lysa, who worshiped the ground he walked on. It was Lysa Tully who secured his rise to Gulltown customs office and Lysa, who convinced Lord Jon to bring him as Master of Coin. Catelyn found she didn't even protest for her sister. It lined up with what she knew. He spoke of Lysa Tully's contempt of her firstborn and noted his physical description. Red-haired, light blue eyes with the Arryn hawklike nose. "She detested him. Never once did she mention the boy's name, unlike her second born brown haired with black eyes." Catelyn didn't understand the implication and asked him to clarify. He smiled. "Why, Lady Stark, we've agreed Lysa loved Lord Baelish enough to secure his rise? Do you think she would not lay unbeded?"
It dawned on her. "You believe my nephew Robert Arryn a bastard?" Once she would have had him whipped for such words, but it was quite a possibility. Lysa had a son with Petyr, and maybe Lord Jon discovered such an affair and she poisoned him to protect her babe. Or did Petyr lie for his own ends manipulating Lysa? She didn't know whether to cry for her sister or throttle her for it. For once she wished Littlefinger wasn't dead and she could interrogate him further.
"Mayhaps? I can't prove it, but you must find it odd he looks nothing like Lord Arryn or his mother."
"Does my nephew know such?" She had to ask about his involvement despite the soil feeling it inspired. She needed to understand how much he knew and didn't.
Lord Tyrion paused. "Lord Jasper Arryn is blind to the truth wedded to the honor of his house. I doubt he would accept it. He maimed Harry Arryn for his remarks against his brother's health. What do you think he shall do if you name his brother a bastard?" Catelyn stiffened. She heard during her stay of the animosity between the two. The ever formal Lords and Ladies of the Vale did not speak of it in polite company,. But still they whispered of it. No one knew where the hatred started, but they all agreed it ended with a duel of honor where her nephew badly scarred Harry the Arryn. Handsome Harry, they called him once. Now only in mockery.
"He would not react well." Catelyn knew. "But his wife Princess Myrcella is with child. I suppose-"
Lord Tyrion leapt up from the bed. "My niece is with child?" He said happily. "I shall have to write to her!" And she detected no falsehood behind his voice. "Say what you will about me, Lady Stark, but I love my family." And for that, she couldn't fault him.
Margaery
The servants packed her bags and loaded them onto carts as she watched from her tower. The Baratheon girl, the freakish greyscale daughter of Lord Stannis, was playing with some fool and King Roberts' bastard Edric. Giggling and laughing like children of summer. Margaery looked away and walked out of her room with ghosts trailing behind her. Ghosts long since slain in Kings Landing. The staff murmured. "Lady Margaery." No longer the Lady of Storms End. That title belonged to Selyse Florent. An ugly woman who took great pleasure in kicking her out of Storms End.
Somehow a Florent stands above me now.
It was intolerable.
Renly departed with so many shiny knights and banners behind him, and the prancing fool lost it all. He lost his life, and I've lost my only shot at being queen. Crown Prince Tommen was tied with the Starks. Lord Stannis held no sons, and even if he did, he would not marry them to her. Unless some prince was hiding in the sand of Dorne, she missed her chance. Though she doubted a prince would choose her. Princes don't like scarred, hideous maidens.
We stacked the deck.
We rolled the dice.
And we lost.
Margaery lost more than most. The black headscarf she wore hid wounds behind silk. People still stared as she was the symbol of the war that took so many sons and brothers. If Lyanna Stark lived, they would have looked at her the same way. As if I'm cursed or spoiled. Worse were the ghosts of her friends that haunted her. She had nothing to show for everything.
I'll marry some dumb son of a lord in the Reach and sire his sons.
They squandered a chance for greatness. She could have been a queen. The queen! It's all she wanted since she was a little girl.
She descended the staircase towards the courtyard where her carriage awaited. Lady Selyse and her brother Imry Florent waited for her with small hidden smiles, enjoying every moment of bringing her low. Lord Stannis' wife was tall and thin, with the Florent foxlike ears. "It's sad to see you off, my dear." She lied through her false smile.
"Indeed, my beloved sister." Imry chimed. Lord Stannis had named him Castellan and was absolutely giddy for the smallest slice of power.
"And I'm sad to be off. I enjoyed your company so."
Lady Selyse smiled, an ugly thing. "Can't be helped. The Stormlands have a real man to rule her now. Not some prancing stag." Do you think the Storm Lords shall love you for ill words? Or for filling Storms End with your lackeys like some nefarious weed.
"It is ill to mock the dead, my lady." Margaery said sweetly.
She glowered at her for that remark, but simply said. "Farewell, Lady Margaery, may your travels be safe." As she made her way to the carriage, the high girlish voice of Lady Shireen told her to wait. In her hand, she carried a fistful of flowers and a book that was far too big for her.
"I picked the flowers for you. Well Edric did." Shireen said. "I think he fancies you, but here is a book for the road. Tis on the Dance of Dragons!" Do you think we are the same? Margaery wondered. Malformed creatures? I'm nothing like you, you silly little girl.
Margaery smiled. "Thank you, Lady Shireen! Tis absolutely marvelous." She kissed her on her good cheek. "Give that to brave little Edric for me."
Little Lady Shireen beamed as a knight of the Reach helped her into the carriage. Storms End faded from the background, but the ghosts followed her.
They always follow me.
"Damn you Renly. Damn you." She whispered as the carriage rolled down the bumpy roads.
Tyrion
The constant riding rubbed his thighs raw. His arse felt a giant bruise. The quick meals of bread and porridge were small comfort. Catelyn Tully was riding the company zealously to Riverrun like a woman half possessed. She reminded him of his sweet sister. Both love their children. The only difference was Lady Stark clung to her honor while Cersei didn't understand the word.
Tyrion had been imprisoned, humiliated, and accosted by a wolf. He took great care to recall every face and name of the men who imprisoned him. A Lannisters pays his debts. And they would pay sharply for this misdeed. Albeit, the cage was comfortable, at the least. The Starks spared no expense to see him well taken care of. Maester Luwin granted him some excellent books he greatly appreciated. And he would have to thank Lord Stark the next time he saw him for making Cersei into a septa. Tyrion roared with laughter when he heard that information during his captivity. I shall break into laughter when I see her next.
He fantasied of de-robing her septa clothes and fucking her cunt where even Jaime hadn't found. When he was finally named Lord of Casterly Rock, he would send for her to be stationed in the Rock. No way father gets out of this without losing his head. The thought of Jaime made him somber. Oh, you dumb fool. I actually miss you. Jaime was the only one that actually loved him.
"A bite, milord?" Harwin asked.
He swallowed. "Only a bite? Surely little old me could afford two." Tyrion grinned and didn't bother to restrain himself from sniggering. Lady Stark watched him with disapproval, sitting on a rock, eating her soup with little patience. Sags formed underneath her eyes.
"Mayhaps, my lady, we could sleep in? You look so tired."
"Dawn," she replied curtly.
"So early?" Tyrion yawned. "You are a coldhearted woman, Lady Stark pushing your so loyal men so."
Varn, the dumb guardsman, spoke with great heat. "Quiet Imp! We are willing to suffer hardship for House Stark!"
Tyrion stretched on his pile of grass he claimed for his own. "And so you do." Though he was certainly right as he gazed around, looking for a friend. A single soul that Lannister gold or promises could bribe. And Tyrion knew he could be very persuasive, but every Stark man seemed to be loyal to a fault. Lord Stark had inspired such loyalty, it seemed. How unfortunate. Father would have loved to learn what was Lord Starks secret. Well, before he separated his head from his body.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing? The seven thrice She-wolf might be killing my ass and thighs with this pace. But the sooner he arrived in Riverrun, the sooner he could start playing the game. Much had changed. New players. Old players gone. Joffrey was dead. Tommen was the Crowned Prince and likely an Arryn puppet. Cersei was septa(Ha!) Robert was off in the east fucking and killing. Lord Stark, surrounded by loyal men, held dominion as Regent of the Iron Throne. Tyrells and Lannisters were at each others throats and the consequences of the war would likely be deep and long lasting. His niece was a married woman, and soon to be a mother. Lord Baelish was dead, slain by a damn wolf. Poor Brave Jaime was dead, and his dear Uncle Kevan as well. And the war was not yet done. The so called War of Margaerys Ear the singers had named it. What next? A hidden Targaryen Prince coming to take the Iron Throne? Or the grumpkins arising North of the Wall?
Tyrion pondered over the game and the players and his place on it.
A cry ran out. "Riders!" The ugly Beorn declared. His fellow guardsman formed up and drew steel as the banners came into the sight. The Twin towers of House Frey and Lady Stark bade them to hold her blades. She named them no threat.
"Greetings, good sers." She offered politely. "How fares Lord Walder?"
The Frey riders surged forward. "Lady Stark, my grandfather wishes to extend the hospitality of the Twins to you this night." The man was a Frey. He had the classic weak chin with a weasel looking face.
"Tis a fine offer, but we wish not to impose on the generous nature of Lord Walder."
Lord Walder was generous only with using his member. The Twins had more Freys than they knew what to do with, but Lady Catelyn was merely trying to find some diplomatic way to decline. And Tyrion considered a night in a feather bed with maybe a woman's mouth around his cock more preferable to a chilly night on the grass. "But we could allow the mounts to rest and enjoy some feed, and no doubt the generous Lord Walder would offer his stores to us weary travelers."
The Frey squinted his eyes. "A Lannister amongst your company? No matter. He speaks true. It would be our distinct pleasure to help the daughter of Lord Hoster."
Lady Stark clearly could find no polite way to decline, admitted defeat and accepted the invitation. She glared at him with clear disdain. You should thank me. A good night's sleep should make you less crabby and a good fucking as well, but Lord Stark was too far to offer such desperately needed services. Dooming them all.
A magnificent feast was prepared for them: chicken, crunchy warm rolls coated in butter, fish, apple pie, orange tarts and summerwine to wash it down. It is so good to taste such civilized comforts. It certainly beat the food they consumed for weeks on the death march. Lord Walder Frey was quite old, some ninety, some name days, with nearly as many sons, daughters, grandsons, and granddaughters. An army of Walders and Waldas ran about the floorboards were practically bursting with them. He was the king of the weasels with a bald pink scalp and suffered a severe case of gout. Two of his bastard sons helped him to his seat. He raised a glass. "My useless halfwit of a son buggers me to welcome our friends to our halls. A Tully and a Halfman."
"Father, his title is Lord Tyrion." Ser Stevron, the Heir of the Crossing, reproached.
"I know what he is. A half man." Lord Walder said crisply. "He waddles like one, the shame of House Lannister. Tywin Lannister curse for his pride. He! The proud buggar shits like your or me, but that is neither here nor there." Some of his sons shifted uneasily and for good reason. One verse of the Reynes of Castamere and they would piss themselves.
"You are a bold man, my lord. Most would not wish to pull a lion's tail."
Lord Walder sniggered. "What fear do I have, a lion clothed in black?"
"Has their been a battle, my lord?" Lady Stark asked.
It was the heir, Stevron, who replied with a cordial tone. "Lord Tywin has departed for the Wall, my lady. Ser Kevans son Willem Lannister is the new Lord of Casterly Rock with my good sister Genna Lannister as regent."
He spat out the summerwine to great laughter. Lord Walder Frey laughed longer than all of them.
Never had he hated Aunt Genna more than he did then or his useless grand nephew. Damn them both! It's mine! The Rock is mine! He would strangle the life out of them both.
"You are mistaken. I'm Lord Tywins' son and his rightful heir." He wanted to kill them all as they mocked him. I hope you choke on that fish, my lord.
"My eyes are still good enough to read. Your noble father is now a man of the Watch and you are lord of nothing, half-man." Lord Walder leaned forward. "Tell me though, is your cock small and twisted or is that part normal?"
"It's bigger and more beautiful than a kings." Tyrion said with a forced smile.
One of Walders bastard grandsons chimed. "Sire, there are ladies present." He complained.
"Your mothers have seen your cocks, and the maidens shall soon enough! He!" He cackled. "Or maybe not in your case, you sword swallower!" The boy whitened. "Do you object to my tongue, Lady Stark?"
"These are your halls, my lord." She replied, but Tyrion didn't care overwhelmed in a storm of bitterness. He drank large gulps of his wine. Riverrun wasn't good enough. I need to get to the Westerlands and stake my claim. If they thought he was just going to scurry away, they were sadly mistaken. Every jape and sound of laughter was directed at him. Even after the feast, he heard the laughter until he tossed a gold coin at some ugly whore with at least firm tits, and took her from behind. Ten thousand Freys must have had her before. Where do the whores go? Every grunt dulled the pain in his chest and ears. She might have complained, but he didn't care and fucked her some more until he was done. When he crawled into bed, dreams of revenge soothed him to sleep.
A Lannister always pays his debts.
Brienne
She wandered without purpose. I kept my oath; I kept it. At what cost to her soul, she feared the answer. Renly, handsome Renly was her liege, and she stabbed him in the heart. Should she return to her father's halls? Or mayhaps Storms End? She could offer her services to Renlys' brother. Was she even worthy of such? Liegeslayer. She whispered sullenly. Brienne lost herself in her musings. Not completely lost. She understood she was being followed for some time. A single rider had been following poorly for several days. Maybe she should have already faced this mystery rider? But she was in no mood for a fight.
I'm still not, but I wish peace and quiet to brood in peace.
Brienne raised her sword and kicked her horse in a full charge. In no time, she was upon him. "Dismount, ser!" she called out with authority. No doubt she looked absurd and would invite mockery. The rider was only a boy and her charge sent him reeling off the beast and onto the dirt. She knew him well. A boy she thought she sent packing days ago.
"Podrick Payne. I sent you home."
A stammering reply she couldn't understand as he shook his head. "Are you hard of hearing? Don't follow me."
"I…I…" He reddened. "I have nowhere to go, ser knight."
"Surely you have kin, boy."
Podrick Payne shook his head. "I tried to tell you before, but I lost my nerve." He said sheepishly. "You are the only one."
"Well, you'll have to go somewhere."
He gazed at her doggedly before pointing at her before whitening like a ghost. "I want to be your squire and doing that."
Brienne had to laugh. "I'm no true knight."
"You defended the family." He stammered. "And you defended me because you thought it right." She commanded him once more to halt his efforts, but she knew it was in vain. He would promise and just follow her. He would likely get himself killed, and she couldn't have that. The boy is innocent. When she ignored her better judgement and gave way, he brightened. "You'll do as what you did before?"
It seemed a good thing as any.
Brienne didn't answer his question and merely started down the road heading where only the Seven knew. If anyone saw them, they would think them the oddest knight and squire in King Roberts Realm.
They would likely be right.
Myrcella
"I win!" Myrcella giggled in triumph as she knocked over Sansas King. "You are doing so much better!"
"If you say so, Myrcella. I still don't understand the game that well."
The septons and septas said being with a child was a gift, and that may be so, but none of them had ever carried a babe in the womb. I spend some mornings in the privies emptying my stomach; I have strange cravings for lemon cakes, and her feet were constantly swollen.
"Thank you for keeping me company, Sansa." Myrcella reached out and squeezed her hand. If only it was Jasper's hand she was holding. "It has made this accursed bed almost bearable." Maester Colemons orders and so she was spending this portion of the pregnancy in the same room with only light periods of walks to the balcony. She felt as large as a watermelon! She hoped to slim down less she become some fat wife.
Sansa squeezed back. "It's no trouble, princess. I don't mind losing yet again at cyvasse." What a sweet friend Sansa Stark was!
"How fat do I look?" Myrcella's lips formed a wicked grin.
"What?" Sansa asked appalled.
"Go on, be honest. I don't mind."
Sansa Stark looked at her, torn for a moment between honesty and propriety. "I suppose you are a tad round."
Myrcella giggled. "Only a tad! How sweet of you!"
"Okay." She blushed redder than her hair. "Maybe a bit more than a tad."
Still, the future heir of House Arryn lived in her. She hoped he would have her husband's red hair and blue eyes. She wanted many things denied to her. She wanted her brother and husband safe from harm and home in the Vale. She wanted a mother that loved her and wasn't a self-absorbed narcissist. I wanted Uncle Tyrion released from his confinement in Winterfell. But Lady Catelyn had denied her request. She wanted to be out of the bed like some invalid and wander around the gardens and oversee the planting of the rose bushes. I really miss the gardens. The feeling of the dirt on her hands, and smelling every flower.
But above all, she wanted lemon cakes!
"You may be looking at your future son-in-law." Myrcella said. "Once you and Tommen tie the knot, our children shall become closer than friends!" Maybe it was coming on too strong, but she was already imagining the wedding. Two dozen grandchildren between them! Handsome princes and sweet princesss."How fares Tommens letters to you? Is he still very sweet?" Of course he is. My little brother is as sweet as a kitten.
"Prince Tommen is like a perfect knight in his letters." Sansa said. A bit too perfect, but she ignored the doubt. Everything was going to be perfect! Two perfect families as sweet as the songs without flaw and Sansa was a perfect lady and would make a fine queen for her brother. Maybe it's the babe in me! But I'm so hopeful!
"Excellent!" Myrcella said cheerfully. "That's-" She whitened like a sheet her water broke. "I think I need Maester Colemon."
They ushered Sansa out an army of nurses and maesters attended her as the septon said his prayers in the corner. The smell of incense and perfume filled the room. Blood flowed. She pushed. By the Seven she pushed. She screamed like it was some brutal battle, and it was long and laborious. "One more push, my lady." Myrcella wanted to strangle her. She said that at my last one. More blood flowed as they encouraged her. A river of it stained the sheets. Screams filled the room. Beautiful screams that weren't her own, and she believed she was done for a single moment as she gazed at a girl. A beautiful girl with green eyes, but they shattered such. "You are going to have another babe." They informed her. "Okay…Okay." She panted. She wanted to curse Jasper for this. Please only be twins. More pushing. More screaming. Until she heard the voice. "You did very well. A boy. Lord Arryn has a heir." Maester Colemon said kindly. His screams were louder. Strong wails. They both sounded healthy as her vision darkened and she saw nothing else.
Authors Note: I'm so sorry about cartwheeling Tyrion, I recently reread that portion in Game of Thrones Book and it sent me into a fit of laughter so I felt I had to do it again! Again I apologize if that ruined your day. I can't believe George added that part. Next, Up we wrap up the Iron Islands and the Tully sisters have a less than friendly chat!
Freedmoon: Well, it's a little less than that considering it add my reviews, if you want the accurate number go to the a03 site! And I'm greatful you still enjoy the story! Warms my frozen heart! That was the goal. Make a flawed OC just like everyone in ASOIAF.
ATP: Well, we shall see how stable things are! It's ASOIAF after all!