Chapter 28: Known...Yet Unknown
Known…Yet Unknown
The Rose Road, A couple of day's travel away from Highgarden
The Northern party had camped near the bank of the Mander. They were at most two days away from reaching Highgarden, the seat of House Tyrell. It had been a long, tiring journey by the road which had taken the group nearly three weeks to reach Highgarden since their departure from Kings' Landing. If it was only the Northern warriors who were travelling, the time would have taken much less, but since they had to pace with the mule-drawn carts carrying Maester Luwin and his belongings, they had to endure an arduously long journey.
Lady Madelyne Pryor had taken to ride with her brother, Ser Hugh during the trip. She did try her best to engage the White Wolf in conversation, but it proved difficult because the man had suddenly become a recluse, even from his own close friends and brothers. It was only in the previous day of their travel that the man she had seen in the Capitol had emerged from the brooding darkness manifested into the human being that was Ser Jon Snow.
Lady Madelyne had sensed that something big had happened the day she witnessed about a dozen men, along with Ser Jon and lords Stark and Forrester, returned to their night camp with two dishevelled women. Ser Jon and Lord Asher went straight for Ser Jon's tent without sparing any glance to the others, but Lord Robb had approached her and asked for her help in settling the two women as she was the only woman in their midst. He only told her that they were rescued from a terrible fate before excusing himself and going to his brother's tent.
Lady Madelyne had taken it upon herself to put the clearly deathly afraid women's minds at ease. She started by asking them about their home. Slowly prodding, she got to know that they were goodsisters in relation. Both went to the Capitol with their trader husbands for the King's Tourney. The women broke down once more recollecting the events of their cart breaking down in the middle of the forested road and being ambushed by bandits. They told her about their families' death and their own impending fate of being brutally raped and then killed if it wasn't for the timely intervention of the White Wolf and the Iron Shield. They amazed her with the horrific tales of being almost raped and then rescued by two seemingly shadowy figures, who, cleanly and ruthlessly brought down the entire group by themselves. At one point, Lady Madelyne didn't know if it was the myth of the White Wolf and his friends that clouded the women's memories or indeed it happened the way they described it. But she shivered by imagining the scene of a giant white direwolf standing guard over her with his muzzle red from his victims while his master cutting down enemies with apparent ease.
She had, of course, shared what she heard with her brother. Hugh listened carefully to what she had to say before sighing and leaning forward to stroke the fire they were sitting in front of. He glanced to make sure they were alone for the duration before starting to speak –
"You are right in your estimation that something was wrong. But no matter how much I tried to pry in, these Northerners are tightlipped even when they are drunk. I couldn't get a single word out of them about what was going on. The most I could gather was it is between 'the four'. And none are privy to anything that is between them, I assume even their parents couldn't get anything out of them."
He took a sip from his wineskin before continuing, "I am accepted by these Northerners because Ser Jon approved of me. And it may have swayed their opinion about you along with the fact that the White Wolf is sweet on you. But other than that, they would not hesitate to make us leave at swordpoints if we try to dig deeper."
Lady Madelyne sighed in frustration, she leaned closer to her brother and whisper shouted at him –
"Aren't you a little bit curious, Hugh? I can't be the only one to sense something is not right the way the White Wolf suddenly removed himself even from his own men. Then there are the additions we are picking up. First, it was that auroch of a man with that red priest. A blacksmith leaving his birthplace behind in search of fortune. Yes, that could be believable, if you do not count the fact that it was the Capitol of the Seven Kingdoms the man was talking about. If it is only fortune he is after and if he is being truthful about his craft, why would he leave a place that was bound to see him live his life in reasonable wealth?"
Her brother could only offer her a shrug of a shoulder, making her frustration grow even more.
"Then there is the red priest. I don't think I have ever heard about that man travelling anywhere without his band of zealots. What was it that he called his god? Ah, yes, R'hllor, Lord of the light. And do you see the way he kept staring at Ser Jon? It seems to me that he expects him to turn into this lord of light or something."
"What is the matter, sister dear? Are you afraid that you need to compete against an aged, bearded priest for the affection of the White Wolf?" Hugh snorted. This earned him a swat at his shoulder by his very irate sister.
"Oh, do be serious, Hugh. I am talking about something that can affect us both in the future." She raised her hand to stop her brother from speaking, "Fine, I am shelving discussion about the priest for the time being. But then, what about those women Ser Jon and Lord Forrester rescued? By their account, the family didn't even have the chance to alert anyone before the males were slaughtered and the women were abducted. How in the Seven Hells did those two know where to find them? And the two of them were truly able to subdue a group of bandits by their lonesome? How did they manage to do that?"
Hugh freed his hand from his sister's grasp and held her hands in his in turn, "Madelyne, listen to me carefully. Yes, I conquer that everything truly doesn't add up, but do you want to confront a man and his friend who stood against a horde of unknown numbers of wildling savages? You did hear about the tale these Northerners speak of about how Ser Jon and Lord Forrester, along with only four men foiled an Ironborn raiding? There were about twenty of those reavers and those two were much younger than they are now. It is insane the way they train, I have seen it myself and still can't believe it. No one can move as they do. And above all, Ser Jon is the most gifted swordsman of this generation. Don't you remember his bout with Ser Jaime? Only once in every generation do we get to see such a warrior and they all become living legends. Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Jaime Lannister, and now we have Ser Jon, the White Wolf to be counted among those figures."
Ser Hugh Pryor stood up from the boulder he was sitting upon and dusted his clothes. He peered down at his still thoughtful sister.
"Please, sister, heed to my words. I know your natural inquisitive mind won't rest till you reach the end of what you conceive is a mystery. But for your own sake, do leave everything alone. Do not make it so that we have no option left for us to but go and seek refuge from Lord Royce. No matter what we think or what our beloved Lord Royce says, living in Vale will not be very comfortable for us given our past."
He gave her a pointed stare before going away. Lady Madelyne put her chin upon her knees as she kept watching the flames dance in their mesmerizing way.
"I will know what you are keeping from me, Jon Snow."
[CotW]
It was the day after the Northern lords returned to their temporary camp with the rescued women. Since it took them and the men with them almost the entire night to dispose of the bodies of the bandits and had seen that the last rights were performed for the slain trader family, Lord Robb had told all that they would remain in the camp for an extra day.
Lady Madelyne Pryor woke up as was her usual time with the breaking of dawn. She changed out of her nightly wears and went out to the tent which housed the poor women. She wouldn't admit it to anybody, but she slept fitfully the previous night. Images of faceless men dragging her off or killing Hugh in front of her had plagued her dreams. When she woke up in the morning, it was when she was experiencing what the women had told her, and it was Madelyne herself who had been saved by a giant white beast whose muzzle was dripping with blood and stood guard over her growling at the approaching darkness. She was about to reach out and sink her fingers into the seemingly soft fur of the beast that she woke up.
After she made sure that the women were as safe as they could be, she asked the men who were tending the fire for plates of food for the two. Since she was the lone woman in the entire contingent, she took it upon herself to become the unannounced hostess for the time being. Although, ulterior motive played the part where her efforts would be seen by the suddenly reclusive Ser Jon and they would resume their sparring with words once more. The whole thing reeked of hidden schemes, wheels inside of wheels and she was truly determined to unravel the mystery.
She had just gotten out of the tent after making sure the women ate something, she found herself to be standing before one of the men who had seemingly done the miraculous rescue last night – Lord Asher Forrester. She smiled to herself as she prepared to try and pry some answer out of him – at least she hoped for so.
"Good morning, My Lord."
Asher was startled by the greeting, he looked as if he was walking in his sleep. He jerked and looked up to see Madelyne's approaching figure towards himself. He put on a winning smile on his face –
"Good morning to you too, My Lady."
"Are you feeling alright, My Lord? You don't seem quite yourself this morning." She asked with concern.
Asher futilely tried to stifle a yawn, "Pardon me, My Lady. Aye, I have been up the entire night for obvious reasons and haven't had the time to wake myself up properly. Were you with them just now?" He indicated towards the tent of the victims.
Madelyne threw a glance over her shoulder in the same direction and shook her head morosely, "Yes, since I am the only woman around, I thought it prudent that they feel at least somewhat normalcy after their ordeal and taken it up to myself to do just that."
Asher gritted his teeth, "I wish I could resurrect those fuckers just so I could kill them once again."
He blushed when he noticed a delicate eyebrow had risen in response to his reply, "Forgive my tongue, My Lady."
Madelyne waved his concerns away, "Tell me something, My Lord, do this happen to you all the time?"
"What do you mean?"
"This…" She indicated towards the tent once again, "You go out for a stroll in the night and come back with rescued women in tow?"
Asher couldn't help but snort, "I think you are not that aware of the legend of the White Wolf, My Lady?"
This time, it was Madelyne who said, "What do you mean?"
"The first time I met Jon, he just finished his one-on-one bout with the leader of a raiding party, who were running off with their stolen loot and would be captives."
"Oh?"
"Aye. After that, when we were travelling to Winterfell from Karhold, on our journey through the lands of the Boltons, there was this prick who enjoyed hunting women down as he chased them along with his hunting dogs. We saved a young lass who had been running for her life from dogs and dogs in human skin, naked as the day she was born and bearing cuts all over her body. Jon relieved that bastard of his hand and I, of his head. The Ironborns who we stopped from pillaging Bear Island, and them too had just abducted Jonelle Mormont, Lady Mormont's young daughter. How do you think Jon acquired the title of 'Protector of Innocent'? If he goes out on his lonesome, chances are that he will find someone in need of his help."
Madelyne hummed in reply, "Does Ser Jon do it often? Going out in the middle of the night on his lonesome, I mean."
Asher ran a hand through his hair in thought, "Only when his mind is in turmoil over one thing or other. Years ago, when we were at Moat Cailin, he went out by himself and returned the next morning looking quite worse for wear. Asking him, we found out that he stumbled upon a lizard lion and had to put it down."
"Lizard lion?"
"You Southerners probably never heard of them, four-legged critters, as long as a mule, twice the length with the tail and horribly vicious. Quite tough to kill given its armour-like skin."
Madelyne contemplated said creature in her mind and wondered what went through a younger Jon Snow's mind when he came in front of such a creature.
"Forgive me if I seem presumptuous, My Lord, but from your words, it appears as if Ser Jon broods quite frequently."
Asher snorted, "Robb says that he has improved. He swears that in their childhood, it would have been a day of note if Jon Snow smiled."
"What is the reason for his brooding now? He has been secluded himself for almost half of our journey."
"Forgive me, My Lady, but that is for Jon to disclose." Asher said guardedly.
"Can't you tell me?" Madelyne gave him her best pout.
The seemingly jovial Lord Forrester disappeared in an instant and in his stead, stood a veteran warrior who had earned his own accolades along with the White Wolf.
"Divulging that would mean I am betraying the trust of my brother in all but blood. Even for such a trivial matter as this, I will not do so." Within a blink, just as he became grave, he had changed his persona once more and became jovial again, "Besides, we are quite sure that Jon is insane. Who knows why he does the things that he does?" He gave her a wink.
Just as he finished speaking, a yell came from the tents ahead of them –
"Forrester! I will fucking gut you!"
Moments later, an enraged Jon Snow appeared at the opening of his tent. When his searching eyes landed on them, his frown deepened as he strode fast towards them.
"See, what did I tell you, My Lady, who but the most insane of people would blame someone absolutely innocent just waking up…"
Madelyne had no idea how she should respond, she kept looking from the raging knight to the clearly amused lord standing beside her. Ser Jon's yell seemed to have brought the others from their tents or whatever chores they were busy tending to. Lords Stark and Karstark made appearances along with her brother who all came with a bewildered look on their faces.
"Jon? What is the matter?" Robb Stark asked his enraged brother.
"Ask him!" Jon Snow yelled while pointing at Asher Forrester.
"What did you do now, Asher?" Torrhen Karstark sighed resignedly.
"I have no idea what he is talking about." Asher Forrester appeared as the epitome of innocence.
"I believe that as much as I believe in a mummer's farce." Robb snorted before turning to Jon, "What did he do?"
"He taught Munnin how to curse and then sent him to my tent this morning to wake me up." Ser Jon, the White Wolf, the celebrated warrior of recent times, replied like a petulant child.
There was a silence before the gathered men around them burst out laughing and turned away to resume whatever work they were doing. Robb Stark exchanged a triumphant grin with an equally pleased Asher Forrester while Torrhen Karstark had the bridge of his nose pinched and muttering to himself about how it was too early for their shits. The Pryor siblings stood to a side, both were quite confused about the happenings.
"So why are you so angry, Jon? It was expected of him, he is Asher after all." Torrhen asked.
"Because he is an annoying little shit…" Jon Snow yelled before mumbling something under his breath.
"What was that? I couldn't quite catch it."
"I said that I was planning on doing the same but he beat me to it." Jon said through gritted teeth.
"In times like this, I truly regret leaving my mother and sister behind and coming with you lot." Torrhen stormed off with a huff.
"What is wrong with him?" Jon looked at the remaining two, both shrugged as they kept watching the distant figure of a fuming Torrhen Karstark. "Let's go, lads. I want to start Gendry's training after our morning meal." The three of them walked away in the same direction of the Karstark lord talking and laughing among themselves. The Pryor siblings stood rooted at their spots looking at each other confusedly.
"What just happened?" Ser Hugh Pryor was still feeling quite sleepy.
"Oh! Now you are interested!" His sister snarled at him before storming off.
"What did I do?"
*Line Break*
Highgarden, the Reach
"My Lord."
The knock on the door and the accompanying call startled Willas Tyrell, eldest son and heir of Lord Mace and Lady Allerie Tyrell, from his works. Since his lord father had taken the family along to Old Town, it fell upon Lord Willas Tyrell to see to the urgent matters handled before he too was to join his family.
"Enter." Willas called out, putting the quill down and leaning back in his seat.
Gorman Graves, minor lord and bannerman to the Tyrells, steward of Highgarden came inside the lords' solar and bowed to the heir apparent Lord Willas Tyrell.
"A riding party is spotted, My Lord. They are about an hour away."
"Oh? And whom do we expect of receiving?"
"They are coming beneath the direwolf of the Starks, My Lord."
Willas nodded at the expectant news, "Then let us prepare to welcome our Northern friends befitting the house of Tyrell, Lord Graves. I will be joining you shortly."
"Of course, My Lord. I will see to it immediately." Lord Graves bowed once again and left the room.
Willas spent the following few minutes in silent musings. It was a known fact that the Northern contingent would arrive at Highgarden because of their travel itinerary. News of the Northerners exploits had reached their ears through rumours and as every other person in the realm, through the accounts of what the bards sang. Willas' grandmother, the Lady Olenna Tyrell had kept a keen ear out for all such information from all the kingdoms. So when Maester Gormon, Lord Mace's uncle and late Lord Luthor's brother came back to Highgarden with news of how and why Maester Luwin of Winterfell was set to travel to Old Town regarding his theories and the possibility of the heir to the Lord Paramount of North and his bastard brother accompanying him, Lady Olenna practically did jump on the chance of implying one of her intrigues. She only needed to make a few comments here and there, and Willas' rather malleable father was up on the saddle, preparing for a tourney that in many ways would rival the King's Tourney. Sometimes he thought that Lord Mace was indeed, as his grandmother often referred to him being, an oaf.
Willas slowly got up and leaning on his cane, went over to the corner of the solar where his father kept his wine. He poured himself a goblet and drank in a go. He needed to appear lively in front of the visiting nobles. It was already quite a sore point for Hose Tyrell that their heir apparent was being mocked for his injuries. Although Willas himself was not very vengeful, per se, towards Prince Oberyn for his injuries, the same couldn't be said for the rest of his family. Willas blamed none besides his own self, and on particularly dark days – his father, for his hardships. If Mace hadn't forced him to take part in the joust and if Willas wasn't shaky about the event, things could have gone a different way. He rubbed his face and tried to get rid of thoughts regarding what-ifs and could haves. He straightened up and limped out of the solar to go down to the front courtyard.
Lord Graves was waiting for him in the courtyard. As he approached, the steward hurried to walk alongside him.
"I have sent Ser Oakney with a dozen men to receive our guests, My Lord."
"Good. Are the rooms prepared for our guests, Lord Graves?"
"Yes, My Lord, I have personally overseen it."
Willas nodded as he turned his gaze towards the party coming through the gates. The Starks were rather prominent among the group, even if it wasn't for their sigil stitched on their garments, it would have been for the direwolves trotting beside their horses. Yes, they have heard about how the Stark sons had gone beyond the Wall only to come back with direwolf familiars, one for each Stark – if the news were to be believed.
The young man, a few years younger than Willas, on the left was of lean and strong built, had wavy red hair and blue eyes, his long face and features were typical Stark, astride on a chestnut horse. A grey-furred direwolf was walking beside him.
The man on the right, on the other hand, was quite intriguing. He was riding on a destrier as black as the night and a pure white direwolf with bloodred eyes trotting beside him. His hair was long and curly and had features screaming not quite Stark, but one could find the similarities. He had purple eyes? – Willas was startled to find that, even if he was not assured by the white wolf beside him, Willas wouldn't have a problem with recognizing Ser Jon, the White Wolf. If only because of his apparent habit of wearing a kerchief on his arm – prominently displaying a white direwolf stitched on a grey field.
The Stark brothers came inside the keep of Highgarden flanking a mule-drawn cart between them. Ser Oakney jumped off his horse and hurriedly made his way towards the lord of the castle before the guests could approach them.
"My Lord Tyrell, kindly allow me to introduce you to Lord Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, eldest son and heir apparent of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North."
The redheaded man gave him a courteous bow which he returned. Ser Oakney continued his introductory speech –
"My Lord Stark, you are in presence of Lord Willas Tyrell, eldest son and heir apparent of Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and the Warden of the South"
Willas could tell that he was being judged by the man before him. Not only as one future Lord Paramount with another but a warrior, a man of action was judging if the man before him could be a worthy ally – or fates forbid, an adversary. He was not unaware of such stare, but unlike before, it was not a stare from the liege lords or their heirs – for there were neither schemes forming behind those blue eyes to curry favours, nor were they calculating to step forward to use their acquaintance to their betterments. It was of a man who had seen hardships of life and came out of it alive. For it was not a pampered lordling who stood before him, but a warrior.
Willas cleared his throat before speaking, "My Lord Stark, I am very pleased that you have come for a visit. We do not get to meet our Northern friends quite so often. Please, kindly accept the hospitality of House Tyrell and Highgarden castle."
"You have my thanks, My Lord Tyrell," Northern accent was quite prominent in his tongue, "We do not get the chance to venture out of our lands and visit the rest of the kingdoms. We certainly appreciate you welcoming us to your beautiful country and home."
Willas gave him a nod. Robb Stark turned sideways and raised his hand, "Kindly allow me to introduce you to my companions, My Lord."
The other members of the party had climbed off of their horses or had gotten off the cart. Willas was a little startled to see a strikingly beautiful young woman with red hair and brilliant green eyes among his guests. He wasn't aware of any woman travelling with the Northern party.
"With me are my friends and brothers in all but blood, may I present you – Lord Torrhen Karstark, son and heir of Lord Ricard Karstark of Karhold. Lord Asher Forrester, son and heir of Lord Gregor Forrester of Ironrath."
An old man wearing Maester's garb had gotten off the cart and came shuffling forward to stand beside the lords. The still-unnamed lady had stayed behind and was speaking with some of the men who had come to unload the cart. Willas' eyes were drawn towards the cart once more when two more women disembarked from the cart. Although, from their visage and general behaviours, they appeared to be not of noble blood. There must be a story there – He thought to himself.
Robb Stark continued, "This is Maester Luwin, the reason why we had come to your kingdom, My Lord. His studies have generated quite an interest at the Citadel and he was invited there to submit his findings." He then indicated to the other redheaded male in their company, "This is Ser Hugh Pryor, of Pebble, the Vale and his lady sister, the Lady Madelyne Pryor." The siblings curtsied to Willas. "…and of course, my brother, Ser Jon, the White Wolf." Ser Jon was having a conversation with the stable boy who had come forth to take the horses away. Willas looked on as the man clasped a hand on the shoulder of the boy in a genial manner and came to stand by his brother.
"My Lord Tyrell." Jon Snow bowed to the man, "Forgive me for imposing, but those two women behind us have fallen victims of a bandit raid. We took care of the bandits, but I am sorry to say that these two are the only remaining members of their group. We thought of bringing them along with us so you could hear about their pleas and do what is required."
Willas hurriedly called Lord Graves to come forward. The Steward of Highgarden had heard what Ser Jon said and immediately took to the job. He indicated for two servants to come and get the women away from there towards the Maester's turret. Lord Graves assured Willas that he would take care of the situation.
Willas waved his hand for the servant who was standing with plates of bread and salt. He knew that the Northerners were staunch believers of guest rights, and he planned beforehand for the same.
"Please, My Lords and Lady, do partake in the guest right and allow me the chance to offer you the hospitality of Highgarden and House Tyrell."
The men and woman ate the bread and salt before following Lord Tyrell inside of the keep.
"I have arranged rooms for you and your companions, My Lord Stark. My men were instructed to prepare the barracks for your men. You may wish to wash off before we adjourn to the Hall for a small feast in your honour."
"Aye, we do, My Lord, so very kind of you."
"Ah…I am not quite sure how to prepare for your wolves. Do they need any special diet?"
"No, My Lord, if you can arrange for a couple of bowls of cooked or raw meat, that would suffice for them. Else, we have half of a cow with the men for the wolves, seeing how there is very little wildlife in the vicinity." Robb offered.
"In that situation, My Lord, I would like to offer them the same meal as my hounds. I can assure you that would be quite filling for them." Willas had yet to see any beast of this magnitude. "Such marvellous creatures, I am eagerly waiting to hear how you came by them."
[CotW]
Although the feast in honour of their guests was not in any way near enough what it would have been if Lord Mace was present at the castle, Willas thought the fares on the table was almost as lavish for the King to dine on. The Northern Maester was busy in a conversation with Maester Marlow when Willas had entered the Hall. He didn't have to wait long for the lords to appear as his Northerner guests had arrived all together, guided by the men posted to serve them. The wolves were not very far from them.
"Please, My Lords, kindly excuse the small fare I was able to arrange for you."
Robb Stark snorted at that, "What you are saying a 'small fare', My Lord Tyrell, is worth a king's ransom back in the North. We would have accepted even if you served us gruels. It is the soft beds we crave after our long journey."
Willas smiled, "I take it you are satisfied with your living arrangement then, My Lord?"
"More than satisfactory, My Lord, I thank you."
"Please, have a seat."
Their conversation continued along with the meal. Willas gave the ready excuses about his family's absence. Lady Olenna had devised the ruse of Lady Alerie's apparent desire to visit her home and the rest accompanying her, and subsequently Lady Olenna's poor health as well as Lady Alerie's impending name day keeping them from travelling to Kings' Landing for the King's Tourney. And the generous Lord Mace Tyrell's decision of hosting a tourney himself to appease his forlorn family for missing a visit to the Capitol. Willas got to know how the four friends had gone beyond the Wall and adopted a pregnant direwolf and her mate. Later the she-wolf whelped six pups which the Stark children had adopted as their familiars. He also got to know that the Pryor siblings had accompanied them as they became aware of Lord Tyrell's tourney at Old Town.
"We have just received Lord Stark's order of grains for the next quarter, My Lord Robb." Willas wanted to poke for information. His grandmother had drilled one lesson into all of his siblings and him – information is power. There were some discrepancies in the latest order from the North and Willas was determined to know the cause of that.
"Ah, aye, I expect my lord father to be quite busy with our absence as well as Maester Luwin's. Mayhaps he even quilled the letter on his own. But I am glad to hear that he is not behind in his parchment works. I hope everything is satisfactory with his order, My Lord?" Robb Stark enquired gently. Willas didn't fail to notice that Ser Jon also seemed eager for his reply even if he didn't show any outwards reaction. But Willas could tell by how his body shifted just a tad. Lady Olenna was a strict teacher after all.
"Yes, My Lord Robb, quite satisfactory, if not for the reason that it is much lower in quantity than what we normally receive from your land." The North was one of their primary buyer of grains and quite essentially, a large source of coin.
Robb nodded thoughtfully, "Aye, it was as expected. I did go through the numbers before my travels and made sure that the ledgers were correct."
"But shouldn't the order be quite a bit larger than the previous ones, My Lord? Given the recent unrest in your lands, I would have thought that food would have been scarcer afterwards a war campaign." He looked at the Northern lord askance.
Ser Jon relaxed once again and concentrated on his plate. Willas noticed that the knight never talked much. Is he normally this quiet or is he pretending to be? He is quite a mystery. And those purple eyes of his seem to bare one's soul to leave everything in the open – Willas suppressed an involuntary shudder.
Robb Stark had a gleam in his eyes which stoked Willas' curiosity further, "You would be right in that regard, My Lord. Aye, a land and its people should suffer if they are just coming out of a state of war. But you are not aware of something. We had an ally on our side." Now Willas was more eager, he never knew of an ally who helped the North in their fight with those wildling savages. "Time, My Lord, time was our ally." Robb said with a smirk.
"I am afraid I don't understand, Lord Robb." Willas frowned.
"We had time on our side, Lord Willas." Robb took up his goblet as he leaned back in his seat to explain, "We had a year to prepare for the conflicts. Thus, the war didn't surprise us. My brother and friends here -" He indicated towards Ser Jon and the other Northern lords, " – became aware of the coming strife for more than a year ahead. My Lord Father, himself being a war veteran, took steps to ensure that there was enough food in storage for both the army and our people. A year was quite a great timeframe for our people who know how the bite of winter feels. They prepared for the aftermath of the war as if they were preparing for a long winter and managed to plant and harvest twice as much. It is as simple as that."
Willas nodded, but he was deep in thought still. Could it be as simple? Or is there something else that the Northerners are not telling?
Granted that he hadn't seen long winter in his life, but there should be an account of that. He needed to peruse the ledgers of previous lords to be certain. He was broken out of his reverie when Ser Jon started to speak for the first time since he sat down at the table –
"In addition to that, we Northerners are a hardy bunch of people, My Lord. We could do without the luxury and could get by with the bare minimum. My brother wasn't exaggerating when he said that mere gruel was enough to sate our hunger. From noble lords to the smallfolk, all of us Northerners try to lead as simple a life as we can."
Willas didn't fail to notice the subtle jab in those words. Once again he was reminded of his father's beliefs in excess and extravagance. So the White Wolf has a bite too, grandmother will be interested in knowing that.
"My Lord, if you permit me to ask of you something," Ser Jon started.
Willas gave him an indulgent smile and nod, "Of course, Ser. I will be happy to answer if I can."
"Thank you, My Lord. I have heard that in your leisure, you train horses, hawks and hounds?" Willas gave a nod, he was truly gifted when it came to animals. Ser Jon continued, "Our schedule is quite strict, but if it is at all possible, then I would like to ask your permission to see the beasts you have trained yourself. I am sure you can tell that I have quite an interest in that subject." He indicated towards the ground beside his chair where lay a giant, white direwolf, currently enamoured with a leg bone of a sheep which was the remnant of his meal. Robb Stark's wolf, Grey Wind, was snoozing beside his master's seat.
"It will be my pleasure, Ser Jon. I will personally show you the kennel, stable and aviary. Do you have any experience in hawking?"
"Can't say that I have. But our friend, Lord Asher here, has a pet raven." The men exchanged a smirk as if they were privy to some secret no one else knew about.
"Oh? You are adept at Ravenry, My Lord?" Maester Marlow was intrigued, so was Willas. It was quite unheard of that someone besides the Maesters took any interest in training birds, other than hunting purposes, which was how Willas trained the birds under his care.
"Not an adept, per se, Maester. But I used to spend most of my childhood days within the Maester's turret back at Ironrath and helped him with his chores. I became fascinated with the ravens and tried to learn what I could about them. The Maesters at my home and foster homes had helped me with my curiosity and the rest I have learned by trials and errors. I only acquired Munnin a few months ago, and it suffices to say, I am still learning about how to tend him properly." Asher Forrester looked quite pleased with his accomplishments.
The conversation pattered off afterwards and the lords bade good night to each other.
[CotW]
"Hvat gerþúr hugsa, jon?" (What do you think, Jon?)
"Brokenrinn flower er meiri klever þan hann let á. Hann var trying til dig út fyrir meiri information þan þeir eru available til hann. Þú hafminnr thanks, bróðir, fyrir taking helminn ór konversationinn ok letting mik form einn ráð ór hvat vér munu munu facing." (The broken flower is cleverer than he lets on. He was trying to dig out for more information than they are available to him. You have my thanks, brother, for taking the helm of the conversation and letting me form an idea of what we will be facing.)
"Aye, ek tökumk hans subtle insistence. Ek vættfaðirr tökumk inn okkarr ráð ok playeð með volumesrinn ór different grains til let þau appear réttr smárr minni þan þeir truly eru." (Aye, I caught his subtle insistence. I hope father took in our advice and played with the volumes of different grains to let them appear just a little less than they truly are.)
"Gerþúr hugslorðr stark hafmetr með kinderrinn enn?" (Do you think Lord Stark has met with the Children yet?)
"At er distinctr possibility. Fǫðurbróðir brynden promiseð mik at hann munu mælmitr þeim um sending fárr ór þeirbrethrenr niðr Suðri til fylgjagð með kropsrinn. Ek einghafar fearr um hvernig vel þeir kommunicate. Fǫðurbróðir ned's gamall tungerr quite vile." (That is a distinct possibility. Uncle Brynden promised me that he would talk with them about sending a few of their brethren down south to help with the crops. I only have a fear about how well they communicate. Uncle Ned's Old Tongue is quite vile.)
"Ór at, ek hafneir worry. Sansmunur setjhannr réttr." (Of that, I have no worry. Sansa will set him straight.)
"Hvat gerþúr mean, bróðir?" (What do you mean, brother?)
"Haldár, gerþúr mean til tell at ek veit eittrvat um sansatr þú gereigir? oh, hvernig tableinn hafturneðr. Let mik relish þessi moment, minn vinar. Finally, munu bróðirr haldir meiri vatn þan munu the 'bestest' vinr." (Hold on, do you mean to tell that I know something about Sansa that you don't? Oh, how the table has turned. Let me relish this moment, my friends. Finally, being a brother holds more water than being the 'bestest' friend.)
"Œrinn með þinn gloating, robb. Þat er quite óbecoming ór þú." (Enough with your gloating, Robb. It is quite unbecoming of you.)
"Spoil minn fun, hví gereigir þú? alright, þat er réttr at sanshafar become quite masterinn ór gamall tunga. Gamall nan var quite prouð ór hanprogressr." (Spoil my fun, why don't you? Alright, it is just that Sansa has become quite the master of Old Tongue. Old Nan was quite proud of her progress.)
"Hon er?" (She is?)
"Aye, arytolðr mik svá." (Aye, Arya told me so.)
"Nú bíðréttrr minuter. Eigi einggerar þú veit eittrvat um sansatr var ókunnigr til mik, en aryerr giving þú secrets nú insteað ór mik? at er absolutely óacceptable, stark." (Now wait just a minute. Not only do you know something about Sansa that was unknown to me, but Arya is giving you secrets now instead of me? That is absolutely unacceptable, Stark.)
"Ha, at munu teach þú fyrir keeping hanawayr fran hanfamiliarr, snow. Hon var mjök pisseð á þú." (Ha, that will teach you for keeping her away from her familiar, Snow. She was very pissed at you.)
"Speaking ór familiars, hví gerði þú tell flowerinn um munnin? ek hugsumk vér erum keeping okkarr wingeð vinar secretr." (Speaking of familiars, why did you tell the flower about Munnin? I thought we are keeping our winged friends a secret.)
"Aye, vér kept þau secret því at southronangerar eigi takþatr líkligr fyrir einnhverr maðr til munu skinchangerr. Fate favoureð mik at ek hafmanageðr til keep gale secretr still. En þat er eingar matter ór tími before einnhverr maðr komur til veit um hana. Hvat með additionsrinn vér seem til sjá within okkarr sveit. Með enquiring um hawking fran flower, inn þat munu fylgjagð mik inn future til establish ruseinn ór taming gale með tipsrinn ok tricks ek em going til learn fran okkarr host. Additionally, asher munu munu quiter rikkir fylgjagð með hans experience ór 'ravenry'." (Aye, we kept them secret because the Southrons do not take it likely for someone to be a skinchanger. Fate favoured me that I have managed to keep Gale a secret still. But it is only a matter of time before someone comes to know about her. What with the additions we seem to see within our group. By enquiring about hawking from the flower, it will help me in future to establish the ruse of taming Gale with the tips and tricks I am going to learn from our host. Additionally, Asher will be quite a great help with his experience of 'ravenry'.)
"Ah, ek fá þat. Plan within planr." (Ah, I get it. Plan within a plan.)
"Aye."
"Faðir munu munu furious ef hann komur til veit um allr ór þessi. Þú veit hvernig hann feels um trickery." (Father will be furious if he comes to know about all of these. You know how he feels about trickery.)
"Enn, hann var einninn til konstruct einn ór biggestinn luggirr ór kenturyrinn. Jafn starks hafemployeðr tricks inn past, inn bróðir. Hvernig else gerþúr hugsþeirr became winterinn kings ór gamall? munu honourable er kertainly virtuousr maðr skulu elttilr munu, en eigi á kostrinn ór einn's kind. Remember lady katelyn's words - kind. Duty. Honour. Ek munu gerar smár addition til at - winter munu komfyrirr einnhverr maðr með fire ok blood, hverr dares til threaten minn kind, duty ok honour." (Yet, he was the one to construct one of the biggest lies of the century. Even Starks have employed tricks in the past, brother. How else do you think they became the Winter Kings of old? Being honourable is certainly a virtuous man should pursue to be, but not at the cost of one's family. Remember Lady Catelyn's words - Family. Duty. Honour. I will make a little addition to that - Winter will come for anyone with fire and blood, who dares to threaten my family, duty and honour.)
*Line Break*
Water Garden, Dorne
Prince Oberyn Martell knocked on the door of his brother, Prince Doran's solar.
"Enter." Doran's voice came from within the room.
"Good morning, brother." Oberyn entered the room and went directly towards the table to pour himself a goblet of wine.
"Good morning, Oberyn. What did you want to tell me?" Doran turned his gaze from the window with a view of the Summer Sea beyond to look at his younger brother. Oberyn held up a hand as he downed his wine.
"I came here to tell you that I will be leaving for Starfall with Ser Eric. While Ellaria will be travelling to Old Town with the girls."
At first, Doran didn't do anything but kept staring at his brother, Oberyn tried not to squirm under his brother's gaze as a snot-nosed brat who had been caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.
"I hear that your 'daughter' had quite an adverse reaction with our visiting knight." It wasn't a question. As the lord of the keep, Prince Doran made it a habit to try and get all the information about the events within his walls. Even though he didn't appear to dine with the others, he'd let Oberyn know that he was still knowledgeable about everything that happens under his roof.
"Ah, yes. Young Sarella is quite the hot-headed one, no?" Oberyn smirked, "Ser Eric is now counting his bruises from the last day's encounter."
Doran didn't acknowledge that he had heard his brother, "Yes, young Sarella could very much burn it all down around us if she is not careful, brother. Will she be joining you in your travel to Old Town?"
Oberyn shuffled his feet uncomfortably, "Ah, yes. I believe Ellaria is already making them prepare for it." He frowned and looked up to meet Doran's eyes, "Do you rather wish for her to stay?"
"It doesn't matter what I want at this point since you, as usual, planned everything on your own."
"What?"
Doran kept looking at his brother before sighing and averting his gaze, "Are you or are you not quite set in your decision to visit the half-wolf, Oberyn?"
Oberyn frowned to hear the question, "Yes, I am, brother. I thought you wanted it too…?"
"I do. But…"
"But what, brother?"
"Nothing, Oberyn. Forget I said anything."
Oberyn's eyes fell on a few parchments scattered on his brother's desk. From his view, he could gather that they came from the East – namely Tyrosh, Pentos and Norvos.
"Did you receive a letter from my goodsister, then? Arianne will be happy to know -"
He was cut off by Prince Doran, "Oberyn!" He thundered, "Whether or not I am in correspondence with my lady wife is none of your concern. Neither will you say anything to Arianne. Do you understand?"
"Brother, I just -"
"Do you understand?"
Oberyn replied through gritted teeth, "Very well, brother. I will not say anything to Arianne. Forgive me for prying into your private affairs."
Doran nodded and swept the parchments that were strewn about on his desk into a draw.
"When do you plan to leave?"
"With the high sun. My men are already preparing for the journey."
"Very well." Doran once again turned to gaze out of the open window.
"Doran…" Oberyn hesitated.
"Yes?"
"I hope you are not planning something else than what we have already decided upon. Our house cannot withstand anymore, with the current state as it is."
Oberyn never in his wildest dreams had thought he would hear his proper brother snort in amusement.
"That is quite something, coming from you, Oberyn. You, who has never thought about our house or its members, and did whatever your mind has grasped on."
Neither was the younger Prince of Dorne was ready to hear the rebuke from his brother, and it hurt him, a lot.
"Doran, whatever I did as youthful folly -"
"Yes," He was cut off once more, "Your youthful folly, and House Martell is still paying the prices for your follies and those of our sister's. Do not concern yourself with something you have never put much thought in, brother dear."
Oberyn was almost knocked off his feet hearing those words, "Our sister's…Elia?! What are you talking about, Doran?"
"Nothing, Oberyn. You may leave now." Prince Doran sighed and leaned forward on his chair.
"As you wish, brother." Oberyn got out of the room and closed the doors lightly behind him.
"Good morning, My Prince." He was broken out of his thoughts by the greeting of Maester Janus.
"Maester. Why are you here at this time?"
"Oh, I just brought Prince Doran's medicine, My Prince."
"His medicine?" Doran frowned and took a glance at the closed door, "Is his gout troubling him this morning? He didn't say anything about it to me."
"Oh, no, no. This medicine acts as a precaution, for and when his pain becomes unbearable for him. I prepare this for him on a regular basis." Maester Janus gave him a bow and entered the room.
Oberyn stood there rooted for a few moments before sighing and striding away from there.
[CotW]
Onboard a ship named Sun's Spear, A galley of House Martell – A week later
Arthur stood at the prow of the ship bound towards his old home. It had been a long time since he had lain eyes on those walls. Memories – both happy and mournful, rushed forward and overwhelmed him. His grip tightened on the railings as he averted his eyes from the distance where they would see the looming towers of Starfall castle in the light of a dying sun into the churning water of the Torrentine. Worry bore heavy on his mind - how would Ulric receive the news of him being still alive.
"Something on your mind, my friend?" A voice came from behind him.
Without turning his head, Arthur could discern that the younger Prince of Dorne had come to stand by the railing beside him.
"A lot of somethings, My Prince." He muttered.
Oberyn came to stand beside him, his eyes kept looking at the water of the river as he spoke –
"Would you care to share? I have been told a number of times that it helps."
Arthur couldn't hide his smirk. He very well knew who had told the Prince that, "I will, if you will, My Prince."
"Whatever you meant by that?"
Arthur turned sideways to get a better look at the Dornish Prince, "I am saying that it is quite unlikely for one to sail with Prince Oberyne Martell, and never seeing him cause delay because he is busy in some whorehouse at every port they pass."
"But I told you before, my good Ser…" Oberyn leaned closer to whisper into Arthur's ear, "I am faithful to my wife." He finished with a wink.
"Yes, you did. But that still doesn't explain your seeming reclusiveness throughout the whole journey of ours." This time it was Arthur who leaned closer, "Oberyn, I am asking you as a friend. We grew up together, we played and bled together. We were friends even before we were Prince or Kingsguard. I can tell when something troubles you. You are troubled now, my friend, and it is eating at your conscience. Please, if talking about it eases your burden even just a little, I am here to lend an ear."
Oberyn gave a wan smile to the knight, "You have my thanks." Once more he sighed and turned around to lean against the railing while keeping a look about the deck. "I don't know if talking about it will help at all, but at this point, I am willing to try anything."
Arthur nodded in encouragement.
"Doran worries me. For the last few years, there have been changes in him. Subtle changes that won't hold up to scrutiny, but ones who are closer to him, would surely manage to tell."
"If you are talking about his health -"
"No, it is not about his health. More, his behaviours. This is my brother we are talking about, Arthur. I grew up knowing him. Granted he was already grown when both Elia and I were mere babes. But I know my brother. Or at least, I used to know. This man that he has become, is completely unknown to me. He is keeping secrets from me, from his own children. He had created distance between himself and Arianne. Quentin is all but lost to the Yronwoods. I admit that was my fault mostly, but Doran did nothing to keep an eye on him. Trysten is only spared because of his age. I don't know how long will it take for him to entangle within whatever it is Doran is planning."
Arthur frowned, "Have you tried to talk to him?"
"I did. On more than one occasion, I tried to get him to tell me what was in his mind. Each time he rebuffed me. The brother who I had known to put family before everything, now don't shy away from insulting me, or his daughter with our mistakes thrown at our faces. Why do you think Arianne tries to spend time away from her father? She has been to Norvos to try and make Mellario consider returning to Dorne. She tried for reconciliation between her parents. But my goodsister is too stubborn to heed to her daughter's pleas.
You can imagine Arianne's rage when she came back unsuccessful of her quest, only to hear whispers about how her father was working within the shadows to make her younger brother the heir to the seat of Sunspear. Once, he used to dote on Sarella, now he appears as if he was thinking of how to dispose of her. I know you will not believe me, but I cannot deny my eyes. He is having secret correspondences with someone at Essos, and no, it is not Mellario. For his messages bear marks from almost all of the Free Cities of East."
"When did you start to see these changes?"
Oberyn thought for a moment before answering, "About three years back. I had just returned from the East myself. There was something else I thought I saw in his eyes. But I didn't put much weight on it. A few days later, Arianne comes back and raises hell about her scheming, old, meddlesome fool of a father. She was fortunate that Daemon Sand got her away before Hotah did something to her, and Doran wouldn't have stopped his dog, I am quite sure of that. Arianne never set a foot in a keep she knows her father is currently residing since then. And since then, she is gathering allies, allies who will string her up by her own intestines once she stops being useful. I don't know what to do about it all. Everything is seemingly slipping out of grasp."
The men stood silent for a few moments.
"I believe it is your turn now. What is troubling you?"
Arthur sighed, "The same things from before. Coming back from the dead after more than a decade and hoping it wouldn't cause my loved one's distress. When I came back, I only thought that I would be seeing my older, frail brother. Afraid that the shock of seeing me alive would cause harm to his health. Then I myself received shocks of finding out people who I thought were lost forever, but still remain in the realm of the living. One accepted me, for she has travelled the same path that I have trodden on, but the other holds me responsible for everything bad in her life."
Arthur wiped the tears off of his eyes, "When I first held her, when Rhaeger laid her in my arms and told me that my responsibilities become ten times greater than they were, I listened to him with only half an ear. My mind, my entire self, came to halt and I kept looking at the sleeping babe in my arms. I loved her as my own since the moment I saw her. I have lived in a hell of my own making for all these years because I thought her dead. I cursed myself that I couldn't be there for her, that she was taken from me so soon. You gave me a reason to live anew when you told me that she still breathes. I desperately wanted to hold her against my chest, just to make my mind believe that it was not all a fool's dream. That she is real. She is here. But she hates me, Oberyn. She hates the very air I breathe. She…my dau -" He stopped abruptly and turned away to look at the water again.
Oberyn stood there with his head bowed. He didn't know what to say or do.
Once more, Arthur started to speak. So low was his voice that Oberyn had to strain his ears to listen to him - "And now I am going towards the place where I was born, where they have an empty grave marked for me. I am going back to a family who had made peace with the fact that I will never return. That and all of the things you have just said to me. My land is looking from the precipice towards an unavoidable war. And when it will erupt, my duty will demand that I stay away from helping my brethren. I have hurt everyone and everything I knew for this duty and I will continue to do so till my last breath…my fucking duty." He spat disdainfully.
Oberyn contemplated a few moments before asking –
"Why did you become a glorified sentry? You could have done anything, become anyone with skills you possessed. Why a Kingsguard?"
Arthur gave a short laugh, "The same reason that changed Prince Oberyn Martell from being a known lecher. The love for a woman…"
Oberyn's eyes became wide, "Elia?!" He stammered.
Arthur nodded while rubbing his eyes, "The heart wants what it wants, my friend. I knew nothing would come of it, because of who she was. Yet, I couldn't stay away from her. In a moment of desperation, I took the oath of the White Cloaks, in a bid to remain closer to her."
"Did she know?"
"I think so. But she had her hands full with taming a dragon, and later, trying to tame a wild direwolf."
Once again, both men fell into silence, each lost in thoughts of days that were and never could be.
"What would have you done if she had married Jaime Lannister?" Oberyn asked a while later.
"Would have become her sworn shield, mayhaps." Arthur shrugged, then took a sideways glance at his friend and smirked as he continued, "Don't forget, if that was to happen, a certain lioness would have had your cock in her firm grips."
"Somehow I find that even more repulsive than having Tywin Lannister as a goodfather." Oberyn shuddered. Both men broke into a burst of hearty laughter.
"Is it worth all of that?" Oberyn asked once the laughter died. Arthur looked at him askance, "Your supposed death…or should I say…exile? Your absence from everything, your duty… was it worthy of the sacrifices you have made? Is he worthy of it?"
Arthur gave him a genuine smile in return, "In more ways than I can say, my friend. The first time I saw him, I truly saw all three of them. Rhaeger's built, Lyanna's colouring and Elia's inquisitive gleam in the eyes. We didn't talk about him much, Oberyn, but believe you me when I tell you this -" He turned to face the man, "He is unburnt. Truly."
Oberyn, at first frowned hearing that, then when his mind caught up to the meaning behind those words, his eyes widened, "He is?!" Arthur nodded. "But…but…it is fucking unbelievable! I only heard about it in tales."
"Do you know what his last words to the Mountain were?" Oberyn shook his head, "His friend acted as his squire in the jousting event. He was there beside him when he called for the Maester to tend the filth. When the Maester said that he was beyond help, he executed him, pretending to show him mercy by killing him. But in truth, he executed him in front of everyone, including the fat stag. In Old Tongue, he delivered his judgement. His friend told us later when he heard his account afterwards that he revealed who he was to that cunt. His words were something like these – Remember Elia Martell. You raped her, you smashed her head to kill her. Did you think yourself safe from your deeds, Gregor Clegane? I, Aemon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaeger and Princess Lyanna Targaryen, stepson of Princess Elia of Houses Targaryen and Martell, sentence you to die.
When he took off his head, he chanted along with his friend, everyone thought he was praying for him. But in reality, he cursed him. Almost the entirety of the viewers chanted with the two of them. Gregor Clegane went to the Seven Hells with the curses of all the kingdoms after him. And he did these in front of the old lion, Tywin Lannister, and he was none the wiser."
Oberyn almost fell off the ship in his uncontrollable laughter. Wheezing for his breath, he asked, "What were the words?"
"Ek kurse þú. 'I curse you' in Old Tongue."
"Ek kurse þú. I will remember these words. Now I truly can't wait to meet him."
"And I can wait for another lifetime for what awaits me up there." Arthur sighed, nodding ahead of them.
Oberyn turned to find the white towers of the Starfall castle gleaming in the dying light of the day.
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