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Chapter 11 Part 1
=Sith=
291 AC
Winterfell
The North
Ravens from Last Hearth and Karhold shattered what few illusions Eddard Stark had left. He had hoped and prayed to the Old Gods that the last Targaryens would be content to remain in Essos now that they had a measure of security and power. After everything Aerys did, Lord Stark deluded himself that no loyalist left would raise for the Targaryens' tarnished cause. He wanted to believe that there would be no war, and all the precautions everyone took were merely common sense just in case Viserys was mad like his father.
The last thing Eddard expected was for Targaryen loyalists to rise up in the North! That couldn't have possibly happened in a worse time, for Olenna Tyrell, two of her sons, and a party of Reach knights were riding to Winterfell from White Harbor right now. They were mere days away now!
Lord Stark didn't even want to think about Robert's rage when news reached King's Landing. Eddard was beyond furious, too, for Allister Thorne and the other traitors who broke their sacred oaths to the Night Watch and murdered their sworn brothers!
There were always a handful of deserters, usually Southorns, who couldn't handle life at the wall. The men of the North knew better than to break Oaths before the Old Gods.
The worst thing was that there might not be Northern justice for the traitors. They've fled on a ship they stole, so the deserters would soon be in Essos or on the bottom of the sea. Either way, they would avoid proper justice. The only chance to get them was for the Royal Fleet to intercept them at the Stepstones if they tried to sail to Astapor. However, if they were smart, and Eddard had to grudgingly admit that what Thorne did proved he had cunning enough, the traitors wouldn't dare such a voyage on a stolen Night Watch ship. Instead, the deserters would sail to Braavos or even Lorath and then sell everything they looted. Then, they would get a passage past the Stepstones and find their way to Slaver's Bay from Lys or Volantis.
That fire at the Maester's tower in Castle Black made a painful amount of sense – it was meant to hide the flight or kidnapping of Maester Aemon and to kill off the ravens. By the time the first message reached Winterfell, it was far too late to try and intercept the deserters. House Manderly had only a handful of warships at the best of times, and they were fewer after the Greyjoy Rebellion.
Thorne's madness greatly complicated Eddard's position. He doubted that if the deserters reached Astapor, Viserys would punish them. He was a Southorn, a Targaryen, and whatever their fault, it was clear those men were still loyal to the Dragons. As a King, he could even pardon and release them from their vows, and that would earn him the hatred of many Northern Lords.
Lord Stark had little choice but to contemplate what he wanted to avoid at all costs – a war of restoration that would put Lyanna's boy and the Starks in tremendous danger. Was he really deluding himself in believing that Viserys Targaryen would be content to remain safe at Astapor? Eddard couldn't even tell himself that there were no more loyalists left in Westeros when the evidence, to the contrary, had the whole North in an uproar! He cursed Aerys for his madness, then Rhaegar and Lyanna for their foolishness. Tywin Lannister, too.
Eddard rose from where he sat between the roots of the weirwood tree in the Godswood and walked towards the courtyard. He had already spent too long with his gods and found no solace among them.
Rob and Theon were sparring under the close supervision of the Master-of-Arms. At the same time, a few guards intently watched their future Lord train before taking their turn. Sansa should be with her Septa while Cat rests with Arya and baby Bran.
The Lord of Winterfell paused in a secluded corner, allowing him to observe the spar without being noticed. Rob's strikes were angry and sloppy. His son wasn't thrilled that he would soon leave for King's Landing to foster with Robert, first as a page for the King, then a squire for Ser Barristan, though never a knight. Eddard might have allowed a Sept built-in Winterfell for his Lady Wife and his children to know the New Gods, yet there was no choice for his firstborn son and heir. The North would never accept a follower of the Seven as their liege.
The Greyjoy boy was a bit older, yet not as good as Rob was with a blade. However, he took advantage of the young Stark's anger to bait him and win the spar. Eddard sighed at the display and walked towards the sparring ring. He had to speak with Rob again before sending him South.
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After far too long spent stuck in a small wheelhouse, Winterfell finally came into sight. Despite Westeros being in its third year of summer, there was snow in the North. Summer snows at that, or so Lord Manderly told them when they arrived at White Harbor. At least the summer wasn't over yet, which was a relief for Olenna Tyrell. If this was what passed for summer in the North, she wanted nothing to do with a Northern winter, thank you very much. That by itself ensured there was no chance that Olenna would allow her granddaughter to marry within this dreaded wasteland.
The North might be vast, but it was empty. Day after day, traveling over rough roads, through forests, valleys, and fields painted an unpleasant picture. The largest Kingdom in the realm was a poor place for all its size. There was nothing like the lush fields of the Reach here. The soil was rocky and poor, not good for farming. Otherwise, many open fields they went through would have been farms or pastures.
Olenna would be doing Lord Stark a favor by taking his eldest daughter as a Lady in the Reach, the Queen of Thorns decided.
"Just think of the kinds of horse herds one might raise on such plains if the soil was richer!" Willas bemoaned like he often did as of late. His patience had grown thin over the journey from White Harbor, resenting the need to travel by wheelhouse instead of riding.
Olenna cursed the Red Viper to the deepest, hottest of the Seven Hells for crippling her grandson. She knew that Willas was bothered more by his inability to ride for more than an hour without suffering ever-increasing pain than he couldn't be a warrior like Garlan and Loras.
The wheelhouse moved around a bend in the road, revealing Winterfell in all its glory. Olenna had to admit that stories about the heart of the North didn't do the place justice. At a glance, the place was just as described – two walls, with the outer being lower, creating a proper killing ground between them. Gray towers rose behind the outer fortifications, revealing at least two keeps inside, though one was worse to wear.
Yet, mere words didn't do Winterfell justice – this was indeed one of the Great Keeps of Westeros. Its reputation was up there with the Rock and Storm's End as fortresses that have never been taken by force of arms.
"Hm, it's not Highgarden, but it's not a hovel either," Olenna allowed.
"Grandmother!" Willas chuckled. "Do try not to antagonize our hosts. I want to rest in a proper warm bed for a week or two before having to travel back!"
"Antagonize people? Me?" Olenna asked innocently.
"You are the one who insisted on a match between Garlan or me and Lord Stark's daughter. Unless you've changed your mind?"
"Viserys has a proper army now, Willas. As a sorcerer, he was dangerous and something to take precautions about. Now, he is a threat we can't ignore. We can't afford to be isolated from the other Kingdoms."
"I read Father's latest letters as well, Grandmother," Willas pursed his lips. "I don't believe he will be able to leave Kings' Landing without a betrothal between Prince Joffrey and my sister. The King might insist on having Marge fostered in the capital as further insurance."
"Jon Arryn already offered the post of Master of Laws for your father or you," Olenna reminded him.
"Two hostages are better than one, aren't they? I think I will write to Oberyn when we return. It might be best if I marry the Stark girl, and then Garlan can try his luck with Princess Arianne. It might be for the best if we hedge our bets so our house survives no matter what the future brings."
"I've been considering that option for months now, Willas, as you know very well. For all we know, Viserys might end up like his father, and he is very far away. We must endure and grow strong no matter what."
=Sith=
Chapter 11 Part 2
=Sith=
291 AC
Winterfell
The North
The first thing Olenna noticed when she disembarked the wheelhouse with Garlan offering her a hand in support was that no one among the Northerners looked particularly happy. That didn't bode well for the coming negotiations. Olenna briefly contemplated keeping her thorns hidden and acting as a proper Southern lady, then dismissed it.
The people of the North were different, and infamously didn't have time for Southern politics… or so they claimed. It didn't stop Rickard Stark from arranging a marriage to his heir with the Tullys and getting involved. However, everyone knew how that plan ended.
"Lord Stark," Olenna smiled at the dark-haired Northern Lord, "you aren't happy to receive us."
Olenna both relished at the utter silence that followed and wondered if she had miscalculated.
A huge Northerner who stood behind the Lord of Winterfell chuckled deeply before his laughter carried over the courtyard. Stark's ice mask cracked, revealing pure exasperation – a common affliction among men who had to deal with Olenna. It was a lack of proper conditioning, she knew. It was such a pity, really. If the North wasn't such a dreary cold place, it would have been amusing to contemplate what Lord Stark might do with Margaery as a good daughter…
"Lady Olenna," Stark greeted stiffly. Introductions followed, allowing Olenna to take her first look at the Starks. Most of them were too young to come to any conclusions. Sansa was a little red-haired thing like her mother, with the potential to be rather beautiful if you liked Tully's looks. There was nothing to scoff at in the looks department, but that was far from the most important for the future Lady of Highgarden.
The huge Northerner introduced himself as Greatjon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth. Below his amusement at her antics, Olenna could see that the man was tired. He might have ridden here hard, which raised the question of why. Did that have something to do with the cool reception?
Servants ushered the Tyrell party into the keep while Lady Stark excused herself from carrying her youngest child away. It wasn't the most proper way to handle such high-born guests. However, Olenna wasn't so old as to not remember having babies in hand occupying most of her attention, sometimes to the detriment of other important things. Either way, she was eager for warmth and a proper bath. She would have ample time to take the measure of the Starks.
Winterfell was unexpectedly warm – warmer than it had any right to be.
"Should we fear Northern sorcery here?" Garlan japed. "I expected the castle to be much colder."
"There are pipes in the walls carrying hot water from the springs below the keep, my Lord," One of the servants escorting them spoke with just the proper amount of deference.
"That's impressive," Willas noted and had that look that betrayed he had an idea he was toying with.
"We are not rebuilding Highgarden to put pipes in the walls," Olenna told her grandson. "Besides, we are lacking a convenient hot spring."
"That's a problem, yes… Perhaps there's another way…" he wondered. Olenna exchanged an exasperated look with Garlan. She loved her eldest grandson dearly. His being a thinker was a boon, especially in light of his crippling injury. However, there were times he had to be told no, firmly at that, which was one reason why Olenna was very careful in selecting a bride for him. She would need to ensure Lady Sansa spent years at Highgarden before marriage to train her properly to keep him in line when required, yet ensure she wouldn't rule through him.
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Feasts in the North left much to be desired – they were dull affairs that didn't allow Olenna to learn anything of consequence. She spent the night seated beside Lady Stark, who was more excited learning of what was happening South of the Neck than sharing anything interesting. It quickly became apparent the woman was desperate for a touch of southern court and more than eager to see Sansa married far away from the North.
After breaking their fast, it was only the next day that the Tyrells got to meet Lord Stark in his solar and discuss things.
"I must commend you on how close-lipped you and your people are, my Lord," Olenna smiled crookedly at her host after settling himself as comfortably as her old bones allowed. "Do you care to share what is happening?" she asked while her grandsons flanked her.
"You wouldn't have heard, of course," Lord Stark sighed. "Ser Allister Thorne and about a hundred Targaryen loyalists who swore themselves to the Night Watch deserted. They torched the Maester's Tower at Castle Black, killing all the ravens, while everyone believed they were out, ranging. They also almost certainly took Maester Aemon Targaryen."
Olenna inhaled sharply at that. The Wall served a very specific purpose – it allowed an 'honorable' out that kept people alive when their schemes endangered their necks. The same was true for many criminals – they were less likely to fight to the death and cause more trouble when they could end up at the wall instead of losing a head, getting gelded, or otherwise maimed.
Of course, people sent there didn't desert, for they had nowhere to go that would accept them. The current state of affairs was simply too convenient for everyone.
But that was no longer true, was it? Viserys Targaryen had a city and an army in Essos. Targaryen loyalists had a place to go far away from the reach of the Crown and angry Northern Lords. And if Viserys led a successful restoration, he could pardon those deserters.
"You are hunting them then?" Garlan inquired.
"I've dispatched ravens for all the good it would do. Before anyone was the wiser, Thorne infiltrated and took Eastwatch-by-the-sea, killing all Night Brothers there. The deserters looted the place and stole a Night Watch ship. By the time the Lord Commander knew what was happening and sent riders to warn us, weeks had passed," Lord Stark spat.
That was a sore point, then.
Olenna raised an eyebrow at Thorne's sheer audacity. That wasn't something she would have expected from a knight of a minor House in the Crownlands. That was the kind of action that either made you a legend or ensured people cursed your name for generations; often enough, both.
"That was the last place I expected to hear of from Targaryen loyalists," Olenna admitted.
"Me too," Stark grumbled. "King Robert won't be happy," He looked pointedly at her. "I might have no use for the political games in the South, but even I can't miss the obvious. Robert will feel compelled to act against those who he believes are still loyal to the Targaryens."
"We are loyal to the Crown, my Lord Stark," Olenna hurried to reassure her host. "Aerys and Rhaegar's madness ensured that any support we offered them during the Rebellion was half-hearted at best. Otherwise, my son would have taken Storm's End, and Lord Tarly would have led tens of thousands to the Trident."
"That was why we raced to King's Landing," Lord Stark informed them. "Only to find Tywin Lannister sacking the city."
"That was ill-done. Do you know our Lord Lannister well?" Olenna fished for information.
Even in Highgarden, people spoke about how angry Lord Stark was to find Jamie Lannister on the Iron Throne with the blood of his King still fresh on his hands. The same was true when Tywin Lannister presented the bodies of dead children to Robert Baratheon.
"I've met the man, and there is little to like there, a sentiment Robert used to share," Stark unwittingly admitted.
Olenna was beginning to understand why most Northerners didn't fare well in the South. This kind of bluntness was pure madness, yet something she could happily work with.
"In the end, Dorne wasn't spent yet. Our forces were largely intact; the same was true for the Lannisters. Tywin Lannister is a prideful man who suffered many offenses from Aerys after their friendship fell apart. He could have been a leader of a Regency Council and the Hand of an infant King, ruling for at least another decade. He could have handled things cleanly by sending Aegon and Viserys to the Faith or the Citadel, then marrying Rhaenys and Daenerys to his grandchildren. Such marriages had ended wars and kept loyalists content enough that the blood of their lieges remained where it was meant to be."
"What is your point? We both know what Tywin Lannister is," Stark demanded.
"Right now, only we Tyrells and the Martells or Dorne are outside the alliance that secures Robert's throne. The Martells can't be easily appeased, and invading them without a just cause would be madness. They can be held at bay by holding a few mountain passes, even I know that much. The Reach, on the other hand…" Olenna trailed off and waited to see what Stark would do next.
"There are many Targaryen loyalists in the Reach, and you stand alone," Stark concluded.
"Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister won't leave us alone. They can't. To do so means risking handing Viserys a rich land with a large, powerful army," Willas deftly interjected.
Olenna could sense her grandsons' unease at the turn of the conversation but ignored it. Thankfully, they knew better than to interrupt her without an excellent reason.
"Viserys is not here. He is in the far end of Essos," Lord Stark tiredly pointed out.
Olenna wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her, which was very odd.
"That's precisely why we are here. Viserys is far away, even if he has a loyal army and a city to his name now. We are all here and must deal with the world his existence creates. I will be plain, Lord Stark, for it is clear you have no patience or care for word games. House Tyrell needs the protection of the most powerful alliance Westeros has ever seen. We can't stand alone, for we will fall if that happens."
"What then? Why should I give you my eldest daughter? Are you so desperate for a hostage?" Stark finally showed his teeth.
"A Stark hostage won't stop your friend Robert, much less the likes of Tywin Lannister. Jon Arryn might have been your foster father, but he is the Hand of the King and a Great Lord in his own right. He will do what he believes best for the realm," Olenna scoffed. "And that means meddling in the Reach's affairs until we no longer threaten Robert's reign. We must come to arrangements we can live with or risk fighting a war we can't win. Your good friends in King's Landing won't leave us any other choice, for they can't afford to."
Olenna would relish the look Eddard Stark gave her at those words for a long time to come. Even for her, it wasn't often that she made a Great Lord like him appear as if hit with a mace in the face with mere words.