Cersei barged into the chamber of her husband with some fury, hatred.
Usually, she doesn't bother him but today... It's different.
King Robert was caught off-guard and quickly withdrew his hand from the skirts of the lovely servant attending him. "Hells, what do you want, woman?" he questioned and took a gulp from his goblet, the girl he was pleasing shirked and fled the chambers and Cersei slammed the door shut.
"Why is Old Whent coming to the capital with your spawn?" how in the Seven Hells did she find out? He was sure that his designs were kept between just him and Jon.
The rats in this place must have told on him, or the Kingslayer overheard him and Jon talking about it that night. With a heavy sigh, Robert rose from his chair and washed his hand in the basin, and flicked his hand dry.
"What does it matter? The boy isn't coming to live here if that worries you." It might do some good, Joffrey could use an older brother to set him right after that incident with the cat.
Cersei, "I thought I said I don't want one of your bastards to wander the halls your true children do? Did I not?" she did.
It wasn't long ago that he wanted to bring his oldest girl to court, only for his shrew of a wife to threaten her life if he had done so. He grew angry enough to strike but did not press the issue... But not now.
"You are welcome to stay in your chambers when they arrive then, sweet wife." he barbed back and she turned on her skirts stopping just short of leaving the chamber.
"I do hope nothing untoward happens while they are here." he flinched and threw over the water basin while hearing her cruel laughter before she shut the door.
He cared not what she thought but should anything happen to his blood, there would be consequences.
The King remained in his customary state for the next few days until word arrived from the Gate of the Gods that a retinue from House Whent had arrived. He then dressed in his finest attire and proceeded to the throne room.
Jon Arryn followed with the rest of the Small Council, he wasn't enthusiastic when Cersei brought herself, beside her his trueborn children.
Courtiers and attendees gathered and the herald stepped inside, "Now entering is the Lady of Harrenhal, Lady Shella of House Whent, and her grandson, Steffon Rivers,"
Robert leaned forward as Lady Whent approached, eyeing his son who looked like a deer caught between wolves. He recalled how he felt during the first months of living in this place.
He felt like a fish out of water, yearning to escape to the Kingswood as much as possible.
Shella curtsied when she got to the foot of the throne, "My King, good day to you and yours, and thank you for agreeing to summon me." she said and placed a hand on his son's shoulders.
Gods, the boy is tall for his age, with striking black hair and blue eyes looked up at him with awe.
"Be welcome, uh, My Lady." he started nervously and got up from his throne, he descended carefully down the absurdly large throne that he was still surprised he never tripped and fell to his death on the many swords below.
Eventually, he did make it and was at eye level with Shella and looked down at his son. "Your name is Steffon, yes?"
"Y- Yes, Father, I mean My King." Steffon stuttered and knelt to one knee.
Robert looked around to his wife, her scathing stare as he hand gripped her skirts in growing anger. He then smiled and held a hand out to Jon, his hand handing him a folded letter and he proceeded to read it aloud.
"I, King Robert, first of my name and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms would reward House Whent for their loyalty during the Rebellion that brought the Targaryens and their tyranny to an end... " Forgetting the rest, he spoke from the heart. "Lady Whent, you are the last of your name, but not the last of your blood, so it is with pride I do hereby legitimize Steffon Rivers as Lord Steffon Whent, heir to your House and the next Lord of Harrenhal upon your passing."
There were some jeers to his decree, but the air was mostly positive as the courtiers clapped in response.
He asked Lady Whent to stay a night before departing so he could have a talk with his son in the privacy of his own chambers, then perhaps some dinner before that as he ordered a feast to be set for the evening.
Cersei was also scarce during the rest of the day, he thought it good as he didn't want the headache.
Steffon was brought to the royal apartments and Robert smiled, "Sit down lad," he said and his son sat across from him. "I wanted to ask a favor if you are willing to hear it."
"Of course, My King."
"Bah, it can be Father when it is just us, I guess we can try and catch up on the years I wasn't there," he said with a smile and yet Steffon remained solemn, perhaps a little unsure.
"It's fine, I am just a bastard, not your trueborn son. I had my Grandmother."
But perhaps he should have been, Robert thought with a grim smile.
If he knew then what he knows now, he would have married Celia instead of the wretched woman that Cersei was. "I am sorry for your mother, she was a beautiful woman, hope you know this."
"That's what Grandmother said, I wish she stuck around." Steffon finally started to smile, "Father, does legitimizing me make me a Prince?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about... No, you are not a Prince." his son frowned, and Robert just wanted to do away with this nasty business. "I want ask you to not to have any designs on our shared blood, lad. You will be Lord of Harrenhal, and your children will be Lord when you are gone and on and on it goes to the end of time."
Jon's words rung in his ears, 'Once you make him trueborn, there is no way to un-make him.'
Steffon was surprisingly hurt but he nodded in acceptance, "I swear to be a loyal vassal to you and yours... My King." it was cold and he understood the feeling but it was what must be, even if he wished it were different.
Steffon left him then, returning to his grandmother no doubt, he even had Barristan ensure the child was safely escorted because his wife is too unpredictable at the moment.
After about an hour, he drank himself to sleep so he could dream of Lyanna or try to remember her face but pictured Celia Whent in her place.
The night turned to day and he was visited by Lady Shella just one short hour before they would depart back to the Riverlands.
The Lady of Harrenhal wore black yet, having lost her husband and children all those years ago. He sympathized as he wore black for two years after the rebellion in memory of his beloved.
She asked for a city charter, he was puzzled by the request and wondered why. "Have you asked Lord Tully? He's your liege."
"Walter did before the tourney that year. He asked Aerys but he was refused, thought Walter was trying to make Harrenhal greater than the ruin his ancestor made it." another good reason why the Targaryens are scum. "I also want to tear down three of the five towers to a manageable size, build upon it."
"Quite ambitious, I'll admit it... But why now?" he asked ever curious about her plans.
Shella's expression became soft and she looked at her palms nervously, "House Whent had no future until yesterday, I was intent on dying and leaving the castle to the next Lord to own it but now the future belongs to Steffon, to Celia's son."
Robert granted her wish, giving his blessing on the Castle of Harrenhal to become the City of Harrenhal.
- The end of the 297th Year, Harrenhal -
It took nigh on three years but Shella Whent had done what she could for Harrenhal.
The Wailing Tower, Tower of Dread, and Tower of Ghosts were dismantled down to being no more than three to four stories high. The stone that was in a more moderate state was used to repair watchtowers, walls, and roofs in Kingspyre and the Widows Tower.
Listening to her grandson, Shella invited the population of Harrentown to build homes and choose rooms within Harrenhal's walls. Good timber from the godswood was used for building resources.
An inn was made, and so were shops and a growing market. The castle smith increased in size and Ben Blackthumb received help from orphan boys.
The capacity of Harrenhal spans almost two thousand, far from the few that lived in the five towers before. Three hundred of those became the household guard and patrols the growing town.
The emptiness of Harrentown brought in many from the other kingdoms, some who had no place to call their own or were interested in seeing the more positive wonder that the former monument of Black Harren was becoming.
Income had become an issue over the last half-year, so Shella gritted her teeth and married one of Walder Frey's grandsons, Aegon Frey.
Aegon Frey was a stoic man, prone to foolery and pleasant company around her or Steffon. He had white hair stripped with black, a mustache, and pale skin.
The marriage wasn't out of love, they only slept together once and knew this was more a marriage of convenience as Walder offered a lump sum to wed and then ward a dozen Frey wards at Harrenhal that she only remembers a few of their names.
Steffon grew into himself, now a strapping lad of five and ten as today was his name-day.
Even still, she sees nothing of her daughter in him, Steffon looks more and more like his father, but with a leaner build and slightly paler skin than King Robert's warmth that she saw a few years ago.
"A toast to my good friend on his name day!" shouted Martyn Shawney, a hedge knight and head of House Shawney.
Shella leaned back in her seat and looked at her grandson proudly as Steffon celebrated with his people, the men and women who will follow him when he becomes Lord of Harrenhal.