Chapter 44
BRYNDEN TULLY-The Blackfish
Family. Duty. Honor.
These were the words of House Tully. Words that they were meant to live by. Yet few were capable of such a thing. His brother had tried to ingrain these words into him and his children, hoping to make them see their importance.
Alas, he had failed in this task. First, he had rebelled against those words, refusing to abide by the match made for him and was labelled the 'Blackfish' for it.
He had thought that he would be Houster's only failure. But he was wrong. Seven! He was wrong. For despite all the crimes he had committed, none were anything as devastating as the one committed by his younger niece.
Lysa had always been fickle and insecure about her beauty and place as she found herself constantly compared to her younger sister, Catelyn. She had been troubled even as a child, easily gullible and fooled.
Her troubles had all begun with that accursed boy, that traitor who had thought too highly of himself. A shame they could never realise the sheer extent of damage he had done.
They had fed him, housed him, clothed him, treated him like a son. Yet he had betrayed them. Had sown seeds of rage and jealousy that had ripped apart the entire family.
The castle was filled with noises, as they prepared themselves for the war that had come. The peace that had come with Robert's rebellion now gone with him, as kinslaying seemed to be becoming the norm.
He had never thought that he would see another war, but he was wrong. And war had come, and he must fight again, yet this time, the enemy was none other than his niece.
"I never thought that I would say these words," he began as he looked down at the debilitated form of his brother, the Lord of Riverrun. His ailing health had taken a significant blow when he had been informed of Catelyn's demise.
His addled mind refused to acknowledge anything, yet he still lay there, stubbornly defying death.
"But we need you, Houster. We need you," he squeezed his hands yet got no answer, though he had expected none.
"I am afraid he cannot hear you, my lord," the old Maester added from the side, as Brynden nodded.
"I know," and such a sad thing it was that they could not rely on him just when they needed him most. That instead of him, House Tully would have to rely on him, the 'Blackfish' of the family, to see them through this war.
"Let us pray that I am half the man my brother was," he said, letting go and turning to face the old, wrinkled Vyman. Even the old man was not spared the pain, for much like himself, both Lysa and Catelyn had grown up in their arms.
"I know that you both were estranged, but Lord Houster cared deeply for you. He couldn't show it because of his pride," and he knew that.
"Have the preparations been made?" he asked, as Vyman's lips thinned.
"Yes, the preparations have been made for the funeral of Lady Catelyn," and he could hardly believe that she was gone. The beautiful and dutiful Cat gone—killed by her own sister.
"I have yet to ask for the girls. Lady Sansa and Arya are with the Princes...."
"I will call on them myself." This trip was supposed to be fun for them, a time to relax, play games, and make new friends. Yet tragedy had struck, and war had come.
Just as it had after that great tourney.
"What about my nephew, Cregan?" he asked. The boy was supposed to be here for the funeral. And he had been the other person Lysa had tried to kill—her own nephew.
And all of it because of that traitor. How blind were they to him and his rot? And he rued the day Houster brought that ungrateful bastard to this castle.
But he had. And now they must all pay the price for that.
"A rider came late in the night carrying your nephew's message," and that made him raise a brow.
"What did it say?"
"Lord Cregan will not be coming to Riverrun," and that made him frown.
"Why?" he asked, as the old Maester reached into one his pockets and took out a rolled missive.
"I think you should read it for yourself," and he unfurled the missive and began to skim over it, his anger dimming the more he read.
Cat had often mentioned just how smart her second son was. Smart and dutiful. And she had not been wrong. The boy had acted quickly and was now rushing towards the capital while warning them of a possible incursion into their lands by Renly Baratheon—the newest of the pretender kings.
"Cat always said that her son had a maester's mind," he began as he put the missive in his pocket.
"She was only half right. The boy has both a maester's and a warrior's mind," yet the only thing he lacked was a warrior's skill, for with his limp, the boy could never be a great warrior.
"Write to the Lords bordering the Stormlands and the Reach to raise their levies. We cannot let Riverrun be attacked from both the East and the South," and Vyman nodded.
"You think Lord Renly wishes to march on Riverrun?" Vyman asked. That was what the boy thought, and he had a good reason to.
For in this castle sat Robert Baratheon's only legitimate heir. The King and his heir had been killed by a great pyre, one that had pushed the capital into absolute chaos.
Stannis Baratheon, the one whom many suspected to be the hidden hand behind this pyre now marched towards the capital, declaring all of Robert's children as bastards, accusing the Queen of incest.
He called himself King, and many Lords rallied to him at his call. And a few days ago, Renly Baratheon had put a Crown on his head as well, parroting Stannis's claims while openly accusing Stannis of kinslaying and murder of thousands of people.
Both of them had much support, yet there was one more claimant to the throne—one with a claim stronger than both Stannis and Renly.
The Princess Myrcella Baratheon. And the little girl had been devastated when she had learned of what had happened in the capital. She had wanted to ride back to the city at once, yet had been forced to stay for Kingslanding was in absolute chaos with the city doors shut down.
"But how will he get into the city?" Vyman asked, and that was an important question.
"The boy says he knows a way. Let us pray that he is right," and with that he sighed.
"Where are the girls?" he asked.
"They are with the Septa," and he nodded as he made his way out of the room, and yet before he left he cast one final glance back at his brother as he repeated the words Houster had tried to live by all his life.
"Family. Duty. Honor....."
.
.
.
"He is not coming," the two girls standing in front of him asked at the same time. Their eyes were red and swollen from crying, and the few days had aged them by quite a few years, taking away their usual smiles.
The little one, Arya, slept as she rested her head in her sister's lap, and he prayed to the Seven that they never become like Lysa and Catelyn.
"I am afraid not," he began softly as he sat down and looked them in the eye. And it was not just his twin, Sansa, who had wanted to meet him, but the Princess had been asking about him constantly as well.
Worrying about him, for he had been attacked as well by Lysa's machinations. Yet, thankfully, he had been able to put down the men who had attacked him.
"But it's mother's..." and words failed his niece, whose eyes teared up once more as she was reminded of her mother's demise.
"I know. I know, little one," and he loathed that he had to do this. Console a girl who had just lost her mother. But there was no one else, and he had promised Houster.
Family. Duty. Honor.
"But you must understand. We are at war," he reminded her of the cruel reality they all now faced, as his eyes turned towards the Princess sitting by her side.
"Cregan is riding to Kingslanding as we speak," and that made them both perk up.
"Why?" asked the Princess.
"To aide his father and the Queen. The capital is in disarray. The gates are closed off. He says that he has a way to get the men to the Red Keep, and they will need those men to stop the Red Keep from falling to Stannis Baratheon," and Sansa frowned.
"But how will he get the men to the castle if the gates are closed?" she asked, the very question that plagued his own mind. But the boy had said that he had a way.
"The tunnels," gasped the Princess, making his head snap towards her.
"What?" he asked.
"The tunnels. Maegor's tunnels," she gasped, and he had heard the legend as well but had thought it all to be a legend,
"But they are a myth?" he asked, yet she shook her head as she sniffed.
"No. They are real. He told me about them himself. Said that they ran all over the city, said that he would show them to me when I was a bit older," So that was his plan.
"Let us hope he is right then," for that was all they could do.
"It's time," he said to Sansa, whose lips quivered as she nodded, as she sifted her hand through her sister's hair.
"Arya. Arya," she called out softly, and the young girl shifted as she groggily opened her eyes.
"It is time..."
0000
EDDARD STARK
Starks don't do well in the South. War follows the direwolves' path down South.
These were words that had been passed down for generations. Superstitions that few paid any heed to. Yet, as he heard the sound of men drilling, smiths hammering, and people screaming, he wondered just how true they were.
He had come to the capital, just as his father and brother had, and war now followed him just as it had them.
Robert was dead, his heir was dead, Stannis and Renly had declared themselves as King, all the while his own wife and the mother of his children had just been killed by her own sister, who had also tried to kill his second son and the Princess.
Each of these events on its own was an absolute devastating disaster, and yet they had all transpired within a moon's time, as he was left to piece it all back together—all of it, the realm and his family.
The entire capital was full of chaos, the city around them teeming with anarchy, as it tried to recover from the devastating blow. The Red Keep itself was divided, making it impossible for him to deal with this disaster as the Queen pulled back all the Gold Cloaks, securing herself.
Even now, as he walked through the halls, he was surrounded by his own set of guards to protect him from the Queen's faction.
Yet in the week since all this had transpired, he had understood one thing. If they were to survive this whole ordeal, then this schism must end. Otherwise, Stannis and his forces would devour them all.
And still thinking about Stannis made his blood boil. Robert's younger brother had been a dour but dutiful man, but he had twisted into something so evil that he hardly recognised him to be the same man who had held Storm's End beyond reason.
Now, that very brother had turned to kin-slaying, killing thousands as he tried to make himself king.
"I wish to see the Queen," he spoke to the guards stationed outside the Queen's chambers.
"The Queen is taking no visitors," the man in white Cloak replied as Eddard's lips thinned, for he had no more patience for games.
"Go and tell her that the Lord Hand wishes to see her. She will make the time," he ordered, and Mandon Moore stepped forward, trying to intimidate him.
"And what if I don't?" he challenged as Eddard put his hand on the hilt of his blade.
"Do your job, Ser Mandon, lest I am forced to show you what happens when a St..." yet before he could finish, the door opened, and a singular person stepped out.
It was Robert's old squire, Lancel Lannister.
"The Queen will see you, Lord Stark," and that was some relief, and as he moved forward, the Gold Cloaks still stepped forward.
"Only you," the golden-haired boy added, as Eddard's lips thinned.
"Not your men," and he should have refused, yet he understood the dire situation they were in.
"Stay here," he commanded Desmond before he leaned forward.
"If anything happens to me, all command falls to Wyman Manderly and Cregan, do you undertand?" he commanded, as Desmond looked him in the eye.
"Don't go in, my lord," he warned him, but he had to do something. He could not let go of this opportunity.
"I have to," and with that, he stepped forward, this time all by himself, as the Red Cloaks stepped aside as Lancel Lannister opened the doors.
As he stepped inside, he saw the tapestries first, along with four men standing around the Queen, who sat in a chair and looked at him.
Lancel closed the door behind him as he slowly walked towards Cersei Lannister, yet he stopped a few paces away from her as he gave her his greeting.
"Your grace," he greeted her, as her eyes narrowed.
"Why are you here, Stark?" she asked.
"To save us," he told the truth as she scoffed.
"Save us? No. You are here to take power. That is your goal. You plotted this. All of it!" she screamed, as Eddard sighed.
"Robert was a brother to me, I would never do anything betray him," and she did not believe him.
"You Starks and your honor, thinking that it makes you any better than all of us. But you are just like us. Just like...."
"I know!" he shouted with some anger, and his words took a second to register, yet he looked her straight in the eye.
"I know," he repeated as her eyes widened.
"You dare accuse me of this vileness! I will have your hea..."
"Stannis Baratheon has taken control of the Bay. His ships surround the city. I am your only hope of surviving this entire war at all. If any of these men make a move, I will not simply stand by," and he rubbed his palm over the hilt of his blade, as he made his intentions of fighting back clear.
"There is no reason for us to fight. I have no sympathy for kinslayers like Stannis. If the realm is to be at peace, we must come together," and that was the only way they could keep the realm together.
There was another way, his heart whispered. A promise made long ago, yet he pushed down that whisper as he looked her in the eye.
"So, what will it be? Death or Peace?" he asked for a final time, as the guards around her tensed as well, and she gritted her teeth.
"What about my daughter?" she asked.
"Princess Myrcella is at Riverrun. She is safe. No harm will come to her, you, or the young Princess Joanna. I promise you that," and so she finally gave her a nod.
"At ease," she ordered, and the men around her moved their hands away as she continued.
"Stand back," she ordered, and the men moved back.
"Peace it is then...."
0000
Miles away across the Narrow Sea, screams filled the tents of a large Dothraki khalasaar as the Khaleesi entered the birthing chambers.
"AGHHHHH!" she screamed, as she tried to push down the babe in her womb, as the woman all cared for her, motivating her.
"Just a little more. Just a little more," the old woman assisting her encouraged from the side as Daenerys Storm-born, battled with the birthing bed.
And then the screams stopped for an instant before cries filled the room.
"It's a boy...." Yet, before she could say anything more, another of the women was beside the older woman.
"I am sorry!" and in an instant, she swung her blade at the babe, killing him instantly as screams filled the birthing chambers.
"NOOOOOO!"
0000
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