Tyrion XI
He had to admire his father, younger men would not have maintained such an imposing bearing, nor looked as magnificent as his father did as he rode out to meet Robb Stark.
Both armies were drawn up before each other, the Lannister forces, bolstered by Tyrell banner men outnumbered the Stark's and Tully's by maybe one and a half times, but the Lannister forces did have more Knights and many on the Lannister side were confident that should the come to blows, this would prove decisive.
He knew his father hoped it would not come to that and that what was going to take place here was not a battle but a peace treaty, but overt displays of military force never hindered in assisting the defeated to come to terms.
He was accompanying his father as he rode out from the Lannister lines, like his father he was dressed in armour, appropriately appointed for his status as a Lannister, and a war hero he mused. No mismatched plate and helm for him, no a smaller and slightly less ostentatious version of his father's armour protected him. He was under no illusions though; he did not wear it well, like he was born to it, unlike his father.
And he had not failed to notice the admiring glances that Lady Sansa had been making towards his father as they had rode north from Kings Landing, all resplendent in his crimson and gold Lannister armour.
The little wolf girl obviously liked the, well, dashing figure that Lord Tywin cut, not that he could blame her, much as he hated to admit it his father radiated power, command, and utter self belief clad as he was in expensive plate.
They had made swift progress up the Kings Road but when they got within five days ride of the warzone progress had slowed and the army had been much more cautious in its advance, throwing up what his father referred to as 'marching camps' at every evenings halt. The Reach contingent had scoffed at this and refused to similarly defend their encampments, his father had not pressed the issue with them but he could tell he had little time for the Lordlings in command of the Reach contingent.
Unlike the Lannister forces which were part professional in the form of the Red Cloaks and the rest were household troops of the various Lords of the Westerlands, and which were used to working together and in having a single, unified command structure, the command of the Reach forces seemed chaotic, fractured. They seemed to him to endlessly argue over precedence and order and minor points of stupidity, not least how their forces were organised for each day's march, with heated arguments about the positioning of forces. And the arguments seemed not to rest on military matters such as size or composition of a force, no it seemed to Tyrion to be exclusively based on who one was and who one was related too
He knew by the fact that Lord Tywin rarely dallied at the evening suppers to listen to the fools get into their cups that he had no time for them. Lady Sansa likewise retired early most evenings, and was her usual soul of tact and discretion; in fact she had even managed to attract several 'admirers' from among the Lords of the Reach. He sighed, really, these Reach Lords were a confounded bunch of idiots mostly, and thankfully none had made any overt move regarding Lady Sansa. The twits knew that ostensibly Lady Sansa was being returned to her family, but yet some still persisted with their ridiculous attempts at secretly courting her.
He fidgeted in his saddle a little bit, thankfully the Red Viper and the Dornish contingent had left after what was being called the Purple Wedding, and there had only been a modicum of trouble all round with the Dornish in general and Prince Oberyn in particular. Something he was eminently grateful for he had to admit, helped apparently by a meeting between his father and the Red Viper, the details of which he was not privy too.
Anyway he put this from his mind, observing the approaching Northmen, but his mind would not be still, the last few Small Council meetings had been illustrative to say the least he mused. He had initially thought that his father had given too much power to the Tyrell's in bringing three Reachmen onto the Small Council, but he now saw the wisdom, nay the genius of it. Mace Tyrell was an oaf of the first degree, utterly stupid and hopeless at playing the Game of Thrones, and so long as he ignored his mother's advice he was an effective non entity. Paxtor Redwyne, recently arrived was competent but was kept far too busy with whipping the remnants of the Royal Fleet into shape to have time for plotting. And Randyl Tarley was a humourless authoritarian, who lacked any sort flexibility whatsoever, and who was as inept at the Game of Thrones as Mace Tyrell, but for different reasons.
Tarley's appointment as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks would keep him busy for several years and away from military command, and thus lessen his chance for more glory and by reflection upon the Tyrell's.
Yes, the Old Lion had seemed to gift House Tyrell much yet in reality he had given them little, something he was sure the Queen of Thorns would notice but which Mace seemed blithely unaware of.
The investigations into Littlefinger's multitudinous nefarious schemes and enterprises had turned up a host of fascinating surprises, actually copious amounts of coin and commercial paper really, most of which went promptly to his Lord Father as the holder of the vast bulk of the Iron Thrones debt. A nice little racket his father had going he chuckled to himself, along with a compliant King and a cowed Small Council, yes his father had managed to do quite well for himself. And now here came his future goodbrother to bend the knee, end the war and give his blessing for his father to marry his child bride....
"I've noticed a few high born ladies from the Westerlands have arrived at court these last few days before we left...." Bronn drawled, not fooling him.
"It is unlikely my Lord Father is considering them for your hand Ser Bronn, most likely they are prospective Ladies in Waiting for our dear Queen, she did after all dismiss the bulk of her previous retainers in a fit of anger. My lord father is sure to want loyal Westerlands Houses to provide suitable candidates for Ladies in Waiting for her Grace."
"Still, fine looking lass's they are, mostly blonde too....." Bronn said, somewhat wistfully.
So it seemed that Ser Bronn just did not like golden coin but golden cunny also, but before he could ponder this more he drew himself up in his saddle as tall as he could as Robb Stark and his guard hove into speaking range. Alongside King Robb were Lords Umber and Glover, and about twenty mounted men fanned out beside and to the rear, sons of the North's nobility. The boy King's Direwolf also strode beside its master, as their horses caught the beasts scent they became skittish and threatened to bolt.
"Lannister" Robb Stark said, only the slightest of growls in his voice, addressing his father.
"Stark" his father replied, his voice even and despite his best efforts he felt a slight grin show on his face.
His father said nothing else, letting the silence stretch out, the tension rising and rising as each man just stared at each other, a monumental battle of wills, neither one wanting to break it by being the first to speak or act. The Stark lad must have some set of stones on him, to face down his father like that, a young wolf confronting the Old Lion in a battle of wills.
On and on the silence held, until Tyrion heard the soft sound of a horses hoofs, turning slightly he spied Lady Sansa, dressed in riding leathers astride a mare, trot up to place her horse between his father and the young wolf, but off to one side.
Her arrival did little to alleviate the staring match between the two men until she called out "the words of House Stark are 'Winter is Coming', do you your Grace, my Lord, intend to wait for its arrival here in this field?"
Neither man reacted to this but Greatjon Umber let out a great guffawing laugh, this seemed to dissolve the tension and Robb Stark grinned a little bit, saying "the sooner we start, the sooner this will be over."
Tyrion glanced at his father, who though his face was as stern and serious as ever, he knew his father was pleased at having 'won' in his mind, if this was any omen for the coming talks, it was a bad one.
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Sansa XIII
Stepping back from the crushing three way embrace of Robb and her mother Sansa composed herself, it was so good to see them again, but so much was different, so much had changed. While joy filled her heart she knew that there was a deadly purpose to this meeting, that the lives of Robb and her mother would be decided in these next few hours.
"Your Grace, mother" Sansa curtsied at Robb and her mother, they were meeting in the field between the two armies, as Lannister men were bust erecting a tent where the negotiations would be held. The tent was Lannister crimson of course, but it would have its sides removed so each side could look on and be assured that no treachery would take place. Robb's guards and a contingent of Lannister knights glared at each other behind them but politely out of earshot.
She still wore her riding leathers, with a cloak of grey wool lined with fur at the collar, the leathers were dark grey, almost black and plain enough looking, but they were very comfortable and warm. The weather had chilled noticeably as they had approached the Riverlands and she had been thankful of the leathers and her cloak. She had packed dresses with her, woollen ones cut for practicality as opposed to style or display, but there was something about how the leathers made her feel that she liked. And if she was honest she liked the odd glances that Lord Tywin sent her way when he thought she was not looking, it made her feel all warm and heavy, similar to how she felt when she let her gaze linger on the man who would be her husband.
Lord Tywin cut a magnificent figure in his armour and cloak, tall, strong, handsome despite his age, but it was more than that she knew. The Old Lion radiated power, command, overwhelming presence, and she would have been happy to lose herself in this if given half a chance. All his commands were obeyed, nothing foolish or unnecessary uttered from his mouth, and his will was done by all who fell under his gaze.
A part of her was terrified by this, wondering what it meant for her, the little wolf, another part triumphed that to be dominated by the Old Lion, reduced to an insubstantial shadow beside him was a just punishment for her. But sometimes alone in her tent other, dangerous thoughts filled her mind, hot, carnal thoughts, the illustrations in the Lyseni pillow book flashing before her mind's eye, imagining Lord Tywin doing those things to her.
"Sansa, there is no need to be so formal, I'm your brother" Robb replied, something chasing across his face, wistfulness maybe, also sadness she was sure, his words bringing her back to the present. Like Lord Tywin Rob was dressed in armour, northern partial plate.
"Your brother is right Sansa, we are your family, there is no need to act so reserved around us" stated her mother, worry on her face.
"Courtisies are a lady's armour mother, is that not what you told me?" she asked, her voice emotionless and her face a polite mask.
Her mother looked sharply at her before hiding her annoyance and something else that Sansa could not quite discern, as her mother and Robb looked at her closely, like they were truly seeing her for the first time.
Now was when she would weigh and balance her future and that of her family, and work to make sure all got the maximum advantage from what was being offered.
Lord Tywin had taken her aside that morning and had a talk with her, indicating that he would allow her to have a brief amount of 'private' time to talk with her family before the negotiations would begin proper.
Both Robb and her mother looked ill at ease with her she realised, with her attitude and probably with her garb she mused, she probably reminded them of Arya.
"Sansa..." her mother began, seeming to run out of words with just announcing her name, her face looking stricken with loss and fear.
"Mother?" she replied, not letting any emotion leak into her voice.
"You, you....how are you Sansa? How are you feeling?" Catelyn eventually managed to say, Robb looking on with a pained expression on his face.
"I am well mother; I have no complaints about anything."
"We, we heard about, about what Joffrey did....." Catelyn spat, barely getting the words past her anger, her face twisting in hatred.
"Yes, he beat me and humiliated me, leaving scars on me, on my soul and on my flesh, scars that will never heal mother. But I deserved it mother; I deserved the lashes and the abuse mother..."
"No! Don't say that child, never say that!" Catelyn begged her, tears forming in her eyes.
"I did mother, for I was a traitor."
"You were not!" interjected Robb, his fists curling and anger flushing his face.
She turned to her brother and said in a level voice, using all of her self control to keep her voice from breaking "I was a traitor your Grace, not against the Iron Throne, no for I betrayed my father, it was I who told the Queen that father was planning to act against her. It was I who enabled Cersei to act against Lord Stark and kill all the Stark Household in Kings Landing, and ultimately it was my betrayal that led to the death of Lord Stark, my father. So yes, I am a traitor and I deserve all that has happened to me and all that is about to happen."
Silence reigned for several moments, the looks of horror and despair on her mother's face barely touched her soul, nor did the anger twisting her brother's face.
"Sansa, you were young, foolish..." her mother tried to say but she cut her off mercilessly.
"Yes I was, stupid and foolish because you and Septa Mordane filled my head with fantasy tales of Knights, ladies, chivalry, balls and handsome princes. You never told me tales of power, betrayal, lies and horror mother, and Septa Mordane certainly did not tell me of how this world really works. You tried to protect me mother, I know that, but all you did was make me weak, helpless, foolish, and I barely survived the snake pit that is Kings Landing after father was killed by my stupidity. But I survived, and I learned mother, absorbing the lessons that neither you nor Septa Mordane could, or would teach me, I learned about the Game of Thrones and what it takes to play it..."
"My, my poor baby" sobbed Catelyn "what has happened to you...."
"I died mother, I died the day they took my father's head, I am not the girl who left Winterfell with a head full of nonsense."
"No" whispered Robb "You are not that girl anymore...."
"No your Grace, I am not. When you raised your banners at the news of our father's death, what were your war aims?"
"War aims?" he asked, his face showing confusion.
"What were the things that you wanted to accomplish? What were your goals?" she replied, holding her brothers eyes, so like her own in their pale Tully blue.
"I, I don't know, avenge father I suppose....."
"And beyond that, what were the things you needed to do to ensure you won both the war and the peace afterwards?"
"What?"
"Robb, your sister might be talking but those are the words of Tywin Lannister!" Catelyn spat, anger replacing sorrow in an instant.
"I have learned a great many things from the Old Lion mother, but I speak for myself here, and for the good of my family. I am a Stark, and I speak to you as Starks."
"You want to be a Lannister!" screeched Catelyn, before lowering her voice "Sansa, what is this nonsense about marrying Lord Tywin?"
"I am still a Stark mother, Lord Tywin has not cloaked me in Lannister gold just yet, like any proper perspective groom he awaits the approval of my oldest male relative, in this case his Grace King Robb" she turned to face her brother fully "You wanted vengeance for father, well King Joffrey is dead, Lord Tywin will give you back father's bones and Ice, and will let all of you keep your old titles and your heads, what more could you possibly want?"
"Sansa....." her mother interrupted with a note of pleading in her voice "we want you to come back north with us, to Winterfell, home...."
"Home mother? To a home currently occupied by the Iron Born, and in all likelihood I won't return to Winterfell and find it my home, no, I will be married off to a Lord the moment I cross over into the Riverlands, or at least be betrothed."
"There have been many offers for your hand sister" replied Robb "from as far even as Dorne. The Lady you are now would be a great addition to any house who won your hand."
"Won my hand your Grace? Surely you mean who you and mother decided gave the most advantage to House Stark?" she replied coolly, noticing something twist and dart in the depths of her brothers eyes.
"You cannot be serious about this, this marriage to Lord Tywin?" Robb countered, the words said through slightly gritted teeth.
"I am" she said, her voice even and her face serene.
"Why?" Robb gasped "he, he's older than even father was, he's a monster, he's a Lannister!" the last bit was hissed in rage.
"Your Grace, Lord Tywin Lannister reached out to you to end this war on favourable terms, very favourable terms to the North, the only thing he really wanted was the return of his son in exchange for me. And yet Ser Jamie was released from captivity by mother's orders and ended up back in Kings Landing a few moons ago. So that left you without anything to bargain for, and yet Lord Tywin still was willing to treat with you, still honoured the original terms of the peace he wished to broker with you. The Hand of the King is offering you a way out of this war, with honour your Grace, some would even say that Lord Tywin has gone soft, that his child bride has turned his head, persuaded him to offer a scandalous level of clemency to you as rebels. And yet I had no hand in any of this your Grace, but I do know one thing brother, Lord Tywin is not a man to be crossed, allow this marriage and you guarantee the strength of the North with a steadfast ally, reject the Lord Hand and gain for yourself an implacable enemy."
"Sansa, please" her mother asked "you, you don't have to do this, surely Lord Tywin can be negotiated with, hostages exchanged, you, you don't have to, to marry....him..."
"I do, and not for the reasons you think mother. In marrying Lord Tywin I will continue the penance that I must undertake for being a traitor to my family. I must atone for my sins, what better way is there than this? And I will marry him because I choose him, I choose the Old Lion as a free and willing woman, precisely because he will give me what I need."
"What do you need Sansa?" asked Robb, his eyes cold and serious.
"I need security your Grace, I need to know that no one can ever threaten or hurt me again."
"The North can give you that Sansa, come home with us, marry a good northern Lord, give up this, this fantasy of marrying Lord Tywin!" exclaimed her mother, exasperated.
"Neither of you understand do you? The Rains of Castamere should be warning enough, Lord Tywin is not a man to be denied or crossed, should you not acquiesce to his wishes none of us will live to see the North again, ever."
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What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Robb II
Accompanied by Lord Edmure Tully, Lord Glover and the Blackfish, and with a contingent of northern Men at Arms, along with Grey Wind trotting at his side Robb strode out to where the great, crimson tent of the Lannister's was pitched between the two armies. There were no walls to the tent, just a wooden floor and the roof above, it would be chilly he knew, thankful of the fact that he was wearing his usual armour and with a wolf pelt cloak around his shoulders. As he neared he noticed that around the table there were several lit braziers filled with charcoal, which would provide some warmth but no protection to the autumnal breezes.
Entering under the roof of the tent bread and salt was offered and partaken of, before the men sat, Lord Tywin had his dwarfish son with him, no one else accompanied the Old Lion. The Lannister Lords were dressed in their best armour, the set Lord Tyrion wore looked frankly comical on his misshapen form, but Rob refrained from saying anything. The Imp had apparently fought bravely at the battle of the Blackwater and bore the scars proudly of it, so no craven was the littlest son of Lord Tywin Lannister.
For some reason Sansa came to his mind...his sister was not the little girl he remembered leaving Winterfell all full of silly ideas about her Golden prince and being Queen, no, Sansa had the truth of it, that girl was dead alright. And in its place someone he scarce knew, a Lady alright, no doubt about that, but one almost as cold as a northern winter and one well versed in the duplicity and lies of the south. He hated that his sister had become this, this twisted thing, hated the reasons why it happened, wished more than anything that none of this had happened. If only that fat useless King who claimed to be his father's best friend had never ridden North with idiotic notions in his wine soaked brain.
But he was here as a King, though he would soon be the second Stark who knelt, and to a fucking Lannister of all people, hah Tommen may have the name Baratheon but he was nothing but a bastard born of incest. And he would have to knell to that, he would have to give up his crown for a lie, dishonour his father's memory, his father's honour?
Bile burned his throat at these thoughts, and he nearly turned on his heel then and there, but he stayed himself, for that way would lead to a grinding war with only inevitable defeat for the North and the Riverlands. And his uncle Edmure, Lord of the Riverlands had made it clear that he was willing to take Tywin Lannister's terms even if Robb did not.
So it appeared that he had no choice in the matter, so that everything he had fought for, all the good Northern men who lay in graves all across the Riverlands had died for nothing. Never mind what now appeared to be cowardice or bloody treachery on the part of the Freys, they had removed their forces from his Army, stating boldly that as he was an oath breaker they could no longer serve under him! Hah! The Freys accusing him of oath breaking, he had not broken his oath, for he had made none, he had only yet to fulfil the oath his mother had made on his behalf, or so he told himself.
After the bread and salt were taken and the platter removed by a servant they sat at a large table, Lord Tywin at its head, his son Tyrion opposite him at its base, he and Lord Glover to the Hand's right and the Tully's to his left. A jug of well watered wine and several cups sat in the middle of the table, along with a plate of freshly baked loaves of bread, and slices of cheese and cooked meats, though nobody made any move towards either the drink or the food.
Grey Wind had sat down on his haunches just outside the tent, across from where he sat and directly in his line of vision, the great Direwolves eyes fixed on him, and Robb felt comfortable with such familiar scrutiny.
The dwarf opened the proceedings "Thank you all for attending, his Grace King Tommen is most pleased that you your Grace" here Tyrion nodded at him "and Lord Edmure have accepted the initial terms for commencing discussions for ending this unfortunate war between the Iron Throne and yourselves."
Robb just nodded fractionally at the dwarf, who had not said anything of substance so he awaited the real talking to start. What was it Smalljon Umber had said? Oh yes, he was to watch out for 'honeyed words and promises from these perfumed southern Lords, because before you know it you'd be bent over, bags down and getting buggered!'
"You know the broad outlines of the settlement, we are here to discuss certain details and the fact that events and circumstances have moved on since the offer was made" said Lord Tywin, his voice low but nevertheless commanding, the voice of a man you listened to and obeyed.
Neither he nor Lord Edmure said anything in response, good that Edmure was holding his tongue, no doubt the Blackfish had instructed him to keep his mouth shut and his ears open, or at least he hoped he had.
Lord Tyrion continued "Originally a factor in these negotiations was to have been the release of Ser Jamie in return for Lady Sansa, however with Ser Jamie's escape from captivity this is a moot point."
"And Lady Sansa, my sister, what of her status as she is no longer to be traded for Ser Jamie?" Robb asked, finally deciding to speak. Yes his sister, the self confessed traitor, he was still unsure of how he felt about what Sansa had admitted to, and what to do about it.
"Lady Sansa has requested my hand in marriage, an unconventional request I grant you, and I was waiting for your approval as her oldest male relative before acquiescing to her request" the Old Lion rumbled from his chair, his eyes boring into his as they held each other's gaze.
"Before the matter of my sister's hand in marriage is decided I would like to settle all the other matters to our satisfaction" he replied, not giving the Old Lion an inch, not backing down one bit. Oh he knew he would probably have to agree to whatever was being proposed here but fuck the Old Lion, he could wait for his approval to wed his sister.
"All substantive matters as outlined in our discussions still stand – all Lords of the Riverlands and the North retain their titles and positions, King Robb Stark will bend the knee to his Grace King Tommen and surrender his crown, in return he will be confirmed as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The borders of both Kingdoms will remain as they were prior to the outbreak of hostilities, no reprisals or vengeance shall be sought or condoned by any party. All normal feudal obligations and liens between the North, the Riverlands and the Iron Throne will be resumed in full" said Lord Tyrion, attention moving from his father to him. "In addition the Iron Throne will make available low interest loans to the value of one million gold dragons to the Riverlands to repair damages done during the war and three thousand Red Cloaks and two hundred knights will be placed under the command of Lord Robb Stark as Warden of the North to assist in expelling the Iron Born from the North."
"I agree to these terms" interjected Edmure, his voice far too eager to Robb's mind, and if the look of slight distaste on the Blackfish's face, to him also.
"Your Grace?" asked Tywin Lannister, damm Edmure for his stupidity and loose mouth! Did he really have a choice though? No he supposed not, and it was not like these terms were odious or imposed any burden on the North.
But, but he had to say his piece, he was not going to surrender to this Lannister bastard without a fight, and if this doomed him, then so be it.
"You would ask me to bend the knee to a bastard? To a bastard born of vile incest? Well Lannister?" he asked, his blue Tully eye's glaring into the gold flecked green of the Old Lion.
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Last edited: Jun 11, 2019
Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 11, 2019Report
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Tyrion XII
He tried not to let his mouth hang open, the boy was as much an idiot as his father, the oh so honourable Ned Stark. To think the lad believes he can berate his father like this, to his face, and during what were supposed to be negotiations to settle the war on reasonably agreeable terms? Actually ridiculously generous terms he knew, terms that were sure to cause considerable grumbling among his father's bannermen, well apart from Lord Lefford, but how and ever.
So it looked like his father's children by Sansa would be inheriting Winterfell after all, no doubt what his father had planned all along he thought bitterly. And Casterly rock, he held no illusions about this either, the moment his father had told him about his marriage to Sansa Stark he knew that Casterly rock was forever beyond him, something that had wounded him more than he thought it would. In fact so wounded had he been that he had pondered what to do about this latest, and most terrible slight against him by his father. He had thought long and hard but had ultimately come to the decision, however distasteful, that he had little real choice in the matter. His father was the true power behind the Lannister's, never mind their gold and armies, it was the sheer force of will of the Old Lion that gave them their power, and right now, or even in the future it would be against his long term interests to challenge or work against Tywin. The recent rapprochement between them had been a factor in his deliberations yes, and he would be lying if he said he did not relish being Master of Coin with his father as Hand, the power he now wielded, by his own hand and as someone in the favour of Lord Tywin was, was heady, and he liked it.
"You will bend the knee to the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, Tommen Baratheon or you will be destroyed, the Stark name and its words consigned to the ash heap of history boy, those are your options. And before you make your choice, I would bid you consider the following items?" growled his father, not letting the Stark boy answer he continued "Firstly, on the matter of parentage and familial looks Cersei did bear Robert a dark haired and blue eyed child, the babe, a boy, unfortunately expired after only several hours of life. Secondly, and relating to the look of Robert's children by her Grace, you and your sister Lady Sansa share the look and colouring of your mother's side, by the reckoning that called King Joffrey a bastard and now seeks to slur his Grace Tommen with the same epithet then your father would be Lord Edmure, or maybe even Ser Brynden?"
Robb pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet, anger radiating from him in waves, about to say something he would most likely regret for the rest of his soon to be drastically shortened life.
"SIT!" exclaimed the Blackfish, his voice commanding "Sit your Grace, sit, please..." his uncle's outburst deflecting anything Robb Stark might have been wont to say in the heat of the moment.
Robb sat back down again reluctantly, glaring at his father with undisguised hatred and anger.
"Your younger sister Arya and Lord Eddard's bastard Jon Snow favour the Stark side in their looks, how the blood shows through is never a sure thing. Are you prepared to stake everything on this, like your mother staked the future of the Stark's on a letter from Lysa Arryn, which was dictated by Lord Baelish, a letter solely designed to further his own ends. Lord Baelish got your aunt to blame the Lannister's for the death of Lord Arryn, when it was actually Lady Lysa who poisoned her husband at the behest of Lord Baelish.
"Outrageous!" shouted the Blackfish "that is an outrageous accusation Lord Tywin!"
"And yet it is no accusation is it Ser Bryden? You know your brother poured Moon Tea down Lysa's throat when she was pregnant with Baelish's bastard before she wed Lord Arryn....."
The Blackfish held his father's gaze relentlessly, daring the older Tully to refute his father's accusations, but the Blackfish said nothing so his father continued "Lysa Arryn continued to be enamoured of Lord Baelish and conspired with him to murder her husband and blame it on my children, can her neutrality in this war be anything else than as a result of the honeyed words of Lord Baelish?"
"How so?" asked the young King, genuine interest on his face mixed in with anger, he noticed that the Blackfish seemed to be holding control of himself by only the greatest of willpower.
"Lord Baelish never forgave Brandon Stark for taking his one, true love Catelyn Tully away from him, hence why he fought that idiotic duel, and nearly died for his troubles. But whereas this would be a lesson most men would have been glad to have been allowed to learn, Baelish instead converted his humiliation into a burning hatred to destroy House Stark. He wanted your mother your Grace, and gladly betrayed your father in Kings Landing, holding a dagger himself to your father's throat. But by this stage Baelish had transferred his desires from your mother to your sister Lady Sansa; he had intended to flee Kings Landing after murdering King Joffrey with Lady Sansa."
"A fantastical tale Lord Tywin, you cannot mean for us to believe it?" queried the Blackfish, his face red with anger.
"I have most of this from the mouth of Littlefinger himself, he sang as sweetly as the mockingbird that he took as his sigil. It is on his signed confession; a copy of which I have with me should any of you care to read it. It is the very 'fantastical' nature of the tale actually lends his confession credence, we did not question him on this, he volunteered all of it, we had him dead to rights for King Joffrey's murder. So he sang to us of all his other 'accomplishments' to spite us, the least of which was embezzling a veritable fortune from the Iron Throne."
"How much?" asked Robb Stark, before anyone else could.
"Lord Tyrion as Master of Coin is still investigating but we believe upwards of three million gold dragons" answered his father, his voice as matter of fact as if he was discussing a sum one thousandth of that before he returned to the subject at hand.
"Thirdly the Tyrell's were more than willing enough to wed Margaery to Joffrey, and to now wed her to Tommen, do you think they would consent to wed their Rose of Highgarden to bastards?"
"The Tyrell's are grasping former stewards, they would do anything to get ahead in the Game of Thrones, they wed Margaery to Renly, a sword swallower...." remarked the Blackfish deadpan.
This seemed to dissolve the tension somewhat, until Robb Stark eventually stated "I, I find these revelations about my Aunt Lysa.....distressing...."
"Your mother kidnapped my son Tyrion on the basis of your Aunt's lies....the cut throat hired to kill Bran? He was hired by Joffrey and provided with a Valyrian Steel dagger that Joffrey had pilfered from the Royal Armoury, it was not my son's, like Lord Baelish told you all" his father admitted, his voice calm and his gaze steady.
An interesting ploy Tyrion mused, clever, but dangerous, let us see how the boy King reacts shall we?
"You, you admit this?" choked Robb out after a few seconds of incredulous looks passing over his face.
"Willingly your Grace, but Joffrey is dead, his act of executing your father has been declared null and void, as are the charges against Lord Stark of treason. Joffery was never the King, he usurped the Regency of the Lord Hand that was both his father's will and the legal requirement in the event of Robert's death before Joffrey attained his majority. As such all laws, decree's and rulings promulgated by Joffrey are thus without effect" at this the Lord Hand passed a scroll to King Robb, as the Stark boy read it his father continued "that absolves your father of any and all accusations put to him, and nullifies his confession, as it was extracted upon the basis of a false premise. Your fathers bones will be returned to you, as will the Stark's ancestral sword Ice. Bend the knee, end this senseless war; end it with what little honour we both can extract from it."
Robb glanced up at Lord Tywin from the parchment before him, then glanced at Lord Glover, who gave a small nod. Turning his gaze to Lord Edmure and ser Brynden the two Tully's gave equally small nods of assent. Though the Blackfish looked none too pleased with everything he had just heard Tyrion noted.
"I agree" Robb announced curtly.
"Splendid" beamed Tyrion "now to other matters, the issue of marriages and alliances to assist in securing the peace."
"Yours also Tyrion" announced his father, that horrid smile of his threatening to appear on his face.
'Oh great' he said to himself.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
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Threadmarks: Sansa XIV
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Sansa XIV
She had been assigned her own tent among the Lannister encampment, with Breyna and Fiyona to accompany her on this journey north, and she sat waiting in the tent, a blanket wrapped around her as she read. Not that scandalous book Lady Genna had given her, no that was safely back in Kings Landing, locked away and hidden, but a tome on the economy and commerce of the Westerlands. The book focused on the seaborne trade of the Westerlands and detailed the numbers of ships, their cargo's and routes, and the values of the goods shipped, she had also packed some other tomes, histories of the Westerlands and the lineages of the Houses that owed fealty to Casterly Rock.
After meeting her brother and mother she had retreated to the tent and waited, there was little for her to do, she was not allowed to wander over to the northern encampment and would be unlikely to be let do so until after the deal was signed. And if the deal was signed she would be formally betrothed to Tywin Lannister, the Old Lion, and she doubted that he would wait long before wedding her, and bedding her a little treasonous voice in her head whispered. The same voice replaced the 'if' with 'when' in relation to the deal, mayhaps wishful thinking on her part, but her brother Robb was not a fool, surely he knew what was arrayed against him, that he could not hope to resist the might of the Old Lion now, especially with the Reach behind him?
The, the bedding, her mind turned to consider this, though she knew courtesy of Lady Genna and the book that she had loaned her, what actually happened.....it was still a different matter to actually contemplate, well, doing it.... And even stranger was the fact that a part of her was looking forwards to it, to being married, to no longer being a maid.
Never mind that she would be a Lady of a Great House, and that she would have the respect and power that came with such a station, never mind that she would be the wife of the Old Lion, arguably the most powerful man in all the Seven Kingdoms.
No, there had been a growing feeling, concentrated low in her belly, a languid heat that manifested itself whenever she was in the presence of Lord Tywin, that sent an unfamiliar, aching desire through her. Astride his horse, resplendent in his armour, he was every inch the powerful, noble Lord, and while maybe not every maiden's dream, he was certainly enough for her. She, she wanted the Old Lion, she wanted him to desire her, she wanted him to do those things she had read about, seen illustrations of. The book Lady Genna had given her spoke only of pleasure and enjoyment, it never once mentioned duty or submitting, or pain, no it described a very different experience than Septa Mordane, or her mother, had spoken about in rushed, embarrassed tones.
And even if what her mother and Septa had said was the truth, and that the Lyseni pillow book was just a tissue of lies? It did not matter, she would do her duty, and it would be just another part of her atoning for betraying her father and her family.
Her daydreaming was interrupted by one of her guards poking his head into the tent and announcing the Peace Treaty between the North, the Riverlands and the Iron Throne was due to be signed shortly, and that her presence was requested by Lord Tywin.
When the guard ducked back out she glanced at her Ladies in Waiting, who were already in motion, opening a chest and rummaging about, before pulling out the dress she wanted. It was a grey dress, northern looking, but made from the finest wool and linen, embroidered across the chest were two snarling Direwolf heads. Rather than being styled in the rather plain and shapeless northern design, it was much more southern in its cut, it hugged her body more closely than a northern style gown would. Over it was an outer dress, of a slightly paler grey, patterned with leaping wolves, which was clasped shut with two golden fastenings at the front.
Once dressed she had her hair done up, in a coiled braid at the back of her head, pinned up into a bun, she examined herself in the small mirror that Fiyona held up for her she nodded with satisfaction, this was the look she wanted. Northern, but with just enough of a hint of southern style to show she was no longer the innocent girl who left Winterfell, but a maiden on the cusp of womanhood and marriage.
She had Fiyona tell the guards that she was ready and soon afterwards she stepped from her tent to be escorted to the tent set up between the two armies. Surrounded by Lannister Red Cloaks she noticed the glances of some of the Knights and Lords who were gathered, some neutral, but not an inconsiderable number of them ranging from annoyed to concerned. So the secret of her betrothal must be out she mused, so she kept her face a mask of indifference as she passed through the earthen and low wooden stake wall that surrounded the Lannister Camp and made her way to the tent without sidewalls that was set in the field between the two armies.
All of the great Lords on either side were present, most in military garb, and at the table three chairs were set, before each chair was a large parchment, quills, inkwells and three pots of wax on stands above lighted candles.
Her mother was also present, looking sour and annoyed she thought, her brother looked pensive, Lord Edmure looked happy, japing with Lord Tyrion. Above all of them stood the Old Lion, looking neither pleased nor displeased, just dominating the space like he always did, no one could mistake who was the real power in this gathering. Nor could anyone doubt who was the real victor here, Lord Tywin had gotten what he wanted, and most likely all of it, she risked a glance at him, his eyes softened for a second when they met hers, a shiver thrilled its way down her spine, Robb had agreed for her to be wed to the old Lion!
Once everyone was present the ceremony began, Lord Tywin, Robb and Lord Edmure sat and signed each document, affixing their seals also. With this complete handshakes and congratulations were had all round, servants passed through the crowd with cups of wine, Lord Tywin beckoned to her and she complied, moving to stand beside the Old Lion.
She noticed her mother's eyes flash in anger at this, but she ignored them, instead giving the required curtsy and greeting to Tywin and her brother, who stood beside Lord Tywin, avoiding meeting her gaze.
"Lady Sansa" growled the Old Lion, his voice deep and rumbling, setting off little shivers in her tummy "your Lord brother has agreed to allow me your hand in marriage, can I assume that you still are desirous of our union?"
"Yes my Lord" she replied coolly, noticing that nothing stirred in Lord Tywin's eyes at this, they remained icily unmoved.
"Very well" he replied, making a motion with his hand to summon a servant to his side, who passed a small item in a leather pouch to him. Turning more fully to her he pulled out a gold ring, set with a ruby and he gestured for her to hold out her left hand, once she did so he took her hand in one of his rough, huge hands and gently slipped the ring onto her ring finger. It felt heavy on her finger, but it fit perfectly, somehow unsurprised by this, as Tywin gave her a sudden smile that lit his eyes.
Turning slightly away from her he called for attention to the gathering, the Westerlands contingent falling silent almost instantly, the Northern and Riverlands next and finally some the Reach Lords, who had to be glared into silence by her betrothed. Her betrothed, Sansa mulled that over in her mind, deciding that she liked the sound of it, and unconsciously she moved to stand at Tywin's right hand side, as was proper.
"My lords and Ladies, today has been a historic day, the North and the Riverlands have agreed to lay down their arms and be welcomed back into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms once more. And to cement that the Lords of Winterfell and Riverrun have agreed to marry the daughter's of Lord Stafford Lannister, to ensure that no violence or unnecessary bloodshed will mar the peace we have signed today. My youngest son, Lord Tyrion, will marry a Frey daughter; this has been agreed with Lord Frey as dissolving the obligation Lady Catelyn placed on Lord Robb to marry a Frey daughter. But I have one more announcement regarding marriages, Lord Robb has agreed to my suite for the hand of Lady Sansa Stark. Please raise your glasses to the next lady of Casterly rock, Lady Sansa!"
"Lady Sansa!" came the response from the mass of men, and Sansa, with a smile on her face, scanned the crowd to discern how each of them truly felt at this news.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 17, 2019Report
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Tyrion XIII
Tyrion swayed a little in his saddle, huddling deeper into his oil skins, thanking again the Gods that his father had the foresight to bring one of these waterproof garments for him.
They were trudging south along the Kings Road, a sodden downpour having accompanied them for the last three days, considerably dampening everyone spirits, along with their clothing and tents. At least they were on the Kingsroad proper, eighteen feet wide and paved so they did not have to trudge over mud tracks or even across open country.
After the feast on the evening of the signing of the treaty the two armies had separated the next morning, the Northern host retreating northwards to encamp north of the Red River and await Lord Robb's return from Kings Landing. The Riverlands forces had dispersed to head back to their various lands and keeps, with signed and sealed letters to ensure that any Lannister or Reach forces that had not gotten the word did not make trouble for them. The forces of the Iron Throne were marching southwards, but with two thousand Northerners and Riverlanders escorting their Lords south to their impending nuptials in the capital.
And his wedding he thought sourly, and to a godsdammed Frey no more no less.....He risked a glance at his father a few yards ahead of him, though cloaked in an oilskin he was sitting as upright and proud as ever, not deigning to let the weather impact his bearing. Damm Tywin Lannister for making him be the one to have to suffer for Catelyn Stark's stupidity, what was that daft woman thinking of making marriage alliances with Walder Frey! The old stoat of the crossing should have been warned that he and his warren of ferrets would have been slaughtered to the last if they had barred her son and his host passage. Robb Stark had been coming south to link up with the forces of House Tully, the Liege Lords of House Frey, Walder's behaviour towards the Starks was an act of stupidity that no banner man of his father would ever make, well not after the Rains of Castamere anyway...
Letting his horse fall back a little he fell in among the party around Robb Stark, who looked as sullen as the weather he thought, the former boy king was fast adopting the mantle of his late Lord father, in that he appeared to be dour and unsmiling all the time.
"Foul weather my Lord!" he announced as he came alongside Robb stark, his Direwolf absent for once, probably off hunting somewhere, probably.
Taking a flask from under his oil skins he waved it at Lord Stark "this will warm you up my Lord, good apple brandy from the Reach, heartwarming stuff!"
Robb only hesitated for a second before reaching out his hand and accepting the flask from him, the young Stark pulled out the cork, took a sniff and then a tentative swig, only coughing slightly as the strongly flavoured liquid burned down his throat.
"Will have a nice fire in your belly in no time!" he grinned at the Stark, who took another swig before handing him back the flask, Tyrion imbibed a good mouthful of the stuff himself, before he tucked it away, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his belly.
"Almost as good as a woman to chase away this damp cold!" he quipped, noticing the Stark boy wince at this, ah ha, as he thought.
"You do not look like a man who is looking forwards to his wedding, if I may be as bold to say...."
"Every time I will look at my wife I will remember I was beaten, defeated Lannister, that I lost a war, that in the end I achieved nothing but to shackle my lands to the family that killed my father. So no, you could say that I am not looking forwards to my wedding....."
"Or, you could look at it that you gained the most you possibly could and quit with your head still attached to your shoulders. You got your family title and responsibilities back, with trivial cost and gained for yourself a beautiful young bride, whose family happens to be the richest and most powerful in all the Seven Kingdoms, I'd say you have not done too bad for yourself?"
"That trivial cost was my sisters hand Lannister, your family now has its fists wrapped around the throat of the North, the Riverlands and the Iron Throne, I'd say you Lannister's have the best of this bargain."
"You were losing the war, how long could you have held out for, especially with the Reach now against you my Lord? You did the right thing for your people, as a King should."
"I'm the second Stark who kneeled, seems we are making a habit of it."
"Better to kneel than be dead, and my father, while not a good man, does believe in something that is of prime importance here Lord Stark, namely that once a man kneels to him it is his duty to help that man back to his feet. You have been given troops to help expel the Iron Born from the North; you can expect Lannister coin to flow into the North to help rebuild it once this is all over."
"Like those 'interest free loans' promised to the Riverlands by the Iron Throne? Which I thought was bankrupt, due to the actions of Lord Baelish?"
"I am Master of Coin, and yes the crown's finances are in a rather perilous state, but where do you think the coin for those 'loans' will come from Lord Stark? And the coin to rebuild the North, well you can be assured that Lord Tywin will want the North rebuilt as soon as possible and to do that, well, let us just say that that my Lord father is willing to extend even more generous terms to you than will be extended to Lord Edmure."
His father had planned this with him on the journey north to the meeting, the gold of the Westerlands was going to be used to sweeten the deal with the rebels, warm gold cunny for Edmure and Robb to burry themselves into, and gold coin to rebuild their lands after the ravages of war.
"And you Lannister, marrying a Frey, to 'forgive' my mother's stupidity?" asked Robb, a wry smile on his face, obviously glad to have escaped that particular furry trap.
"Aye, well, one must do one's duty and all that" he replied, trying to keep his voice light despite his anger.
His father had hated the Frey's ever since his father Tytos had married off his sister Genna to one of the weasel's sons. Was this his father pissing on him once again? The equivalent of putting him in charge of the drains of Casterly rock all over again? He could not fathom his father's actions in this regard, was it that the Old Lion now had a new wife to breed heirs from that he did not care for him anymore?
Speaking of his new mother by law, Sansa was riding up beside his father, the girl had scarce left his father side since the announcement of their betrothal, except to sleep in her own tent of course, he could not see the Old Lion abandoning all propriety just because he now had some young flame haired cunny fawning over him.
At the feast held to celebrate the signing of the peace treaty Sansa had sat at his father's left, with Robb at his right and Sansa had been the very model of a Great Lady as his father's banner men had come to pay their respects and wish the happy couple a long and fruitful life together. Any of them who were unhappy with the arrangement were smart enough, or sober enough, to keep their real thoughts to themselves. There would be quite a few annoyed Lord fathers of unwed maidens in this very tent because of this he knew, but he doubted any would make more than the quietest fuss, or most likely no fuss at all.
The Northern Lords congratulating Lady Sansa had passed off without incident, only Greatjon Umber making any sort of a scene, but even that was mild, the drunken oaf asking to arm wrestle with his Lord father, who politely declined the offer.
It was predictably a Reach Knight, whose sigil he did not recognise, who caused the most stir, commending Lord Tywin on his 'delectable flame haired little wolf cub' all the while openly leering at Sansa, before loudly announcing that he was greatly looking forwards to the bedding ceremony.
His father's eyes had locked with the drunken fool's, spearing him with his gaze like a fisherman would an unfortunate fish, as all conversation and revelry died in a few spasms of noise as every head turned to the high table. The musicians let their music die with a sudden abruptness that was as jarring as the idiot knights shouted promise.
His father reached out with his left hand and placed a massive paw over Lady Sansa's tiny, white hand, with his other hand he made a gesture towards the musicians, the first bars of the 'Rains of Castamere' floated through the silent feasting tent, the Reach knight having suddenly gone as pale as milk and his face twisted in terror.
"There will be no bedding ceremony" his father announced as if he was talking about how many bushels of wheat per acre he could expect from the demesne of Casterly rock. The Reach knight bobbed his head up and down frantically, seemingly having lost the power of speech and with a start he fled the tent.
His father flicked a hand at the musicians had they halted the dire dirge and started playing something more upbeat, and Sansa Stark had looked up into his father's eyes, her huge blue orbs shining with love.
He dragged his mind back to the present and the sullen rain sodden skies and land "apparently my aunt, the Lady Genna has picked a fair maiden suitable for my hand" he added, unable to let a certain amount of moroseness creep into his voice.
Greatjon Umber, who was accompanying Lord Stark's party let out a roaring laugh at this "if she's half the size of Roose Bolton's Frey wife she will crush you to death on your wedding night!"
Laughter burst out all round as Tyrion stewed but did not let it show on his face, damm his father and damm him to the seven hells for being such a colossal cunt!
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Jun 19, 2019Report
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Threadmarks: Robb III
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Robb III
"This place still smells of shit!" had grumbled Greatjon Umber as they had been assigned their quarters in the Red Keep upon arriving, not that he really cared; the quarters were warm and above all dry. The next day he and Edmure were to bend the knee before King Tommen, a mere formality, but one which had to be observed. Then four Lords would wed, and then he would depart Kings Landing with a new bride, his father's bones and his family's ancestral sword, to retake the North from the Iron Born. Lord Tywin had decided that all four of them would be wed at the same time in a 'symbol of unity', probably also to save coin, not that he had an issue with that, he disliked frivolous expenditure of coin like any good northerner, after all winter was coming and that coin could be spent better on food and other preparations for winter.
After changing and bathing he went in search of Lord Edmure, who looked about as happy as he was with the situation and the pair of them with guards in tow, set off to meet their intendeds. His clothes were the best he had to hand, but having seen some of the southern finery on display already he felt like an impoverished, bucolic relation. He wore grey woollen trousers, a linen shirt and a grey/black doublet, his only concession to, well style was a silver wolf heads broach affixed to close the doublet at his throat.
Lord Tywin had not been specific as to which one of them would have to choose which Lannister daughter to marry, in this case the daughters of Stafford Lannister, who was good brother to Tywin Lannister. He and Edmure were to be bound with chains of gold to the Lannister's, of coin and hair, prisoners to the will and whim of the Old Lion. But as Lord Tyrion had said, better bound with ties of marriage than minus a head, though he still chaffed at how, well sudden it all was. He had not been naive enough to think he could have married for love, but this? A blade at his back prodding him towards an alter and a bride further from his choosing he could not imagine.
Descending through Maegor's Holdfast they made their way to the Gardens of the Red Keep, on entering the garden's they met their future good father and their future wives, two golden haired and green eyed beauties. Both were dressed in crimson and gold, in similar enough dresses but with different hair styles, though both were dressed to catch a man's eye with dresses that displayed quite the amount of creamy flesh. The sisters shared some familiar similarity, and of course the ubiquitous Lannister colouring, but other than that they seemed quite different. The younger one was slightly slimmer than the older one, and was all sly smiles and giggles, the older one looked haughty and coolly reserved, she probably thinks I'm a savage Robb thought sourly.
After greetings and introductions Edmure chose the younger daughter, who was called Myrielle and sauntered off into the gardens with her and her chaperone, a stern faced Septa. That left him with the other daughter, Cerenna, as blonde and beautiful as her younger sister; in fact probably better looking to his mind on closer inspection, but who now sported a look of mild disinterest on her face. Great, Edmure will have the bubbly one eating out of his hand and he was left with the stuck up ice maiden.
Giving her a bow he straightened up and asked "would you care to accompany me for a walk Lady Cerenna?"
"I would be delighted to Lord Stark" the girl replied, only the tiniest of smiles on her face, and maybe not even that, mayhaps he had imagined it.
With another hatchet faced Septa in tow they set off into the Gardens of the Red Keep, where that bastard Joffrey had choked to death he thought with a savage glee, only tempered by the fact that he had not been the one to end that little shitstains life.
"Are you always this quiet?" asked the Lannister girl, breaking his train of thought.
"Oh, um, no, sorry my Lady, I've just never been in Kings Landing, or the Red Keep before." 'Great Robb, just great, you sound like a hayseed' he admonished himself in his mind.
"I must say, you are not what I expected Lord Stark" the girl continued, arching one delicate blonde eyebrow at him, her face serenely composed.
"Oh? And just what did you expect my Lady?" he asked, unable to keep just a little of his anger at this whole situation bleed into his voice.
"Well, that you would be taller for one, you are the infamous 'Young Wolf', who terrorised the Westerlands, whose men ride Direwolves into battle, and who feast on the flesh of their slain enemies!" the girl finished, he could not be sure if she was being serious or she was japing at him, neither her face nor her eyes gave him any indication of which it was.
"Taller eh?" he replied, trying not to sound a little annoyed at this.
"Well, you are a virtual legend my Lord, and legendary hero's tend to be described as tall, but now that I see, you are tall enough...." she replied, and Robb was sure he could hear some amusement in the girls voice.
He turned slightly to read the girls face, and to get a better look at her, Cerenna Lannister was beautiful, blonde of hair, green of eye, full of lip and high of cheek bone, but with a jaw just slightly too strong to be considered classically beautiful. But it made her face arresting he thought, this was a face you would never forget, a face that if you saw it in a crowd you would search it out again to gaze upon it. So why was she still unmarried he wondered, what defect did she have that caused her to still be an unwed maid at twenty and one?
Though he knew he had to go through with this marriage he could barely muster any enthusiasm for this sham. "I'm just a defeated ex King my Lady, nothing more, nothing less....." he replied, uncaring what the Lannister chit thought of him.
The girl's face twisted slightly into a frown at this, before saying "and how many men can say that they wore a crown at all Robb Stark? How many men had the courage to challenge the Iron Throne, or the Old Lion?"
"But I was defeated in the end!" he snapped, sourness and bitterness in his voice.
"You were not, you willingly went to the negotiation table for the good of your realm, and you got the best deal possible, you kept your head, did not have to take the Black, will be acclaimed Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. That does not sound like a defeat to me Robb Stark!"
Throughout all of this the girl's green eyes had not flinched from his, cold, hard and utterly unreadable to him.
"You may think yourself a failure Robb Stark, but you did what was right, what was honourable, and more importantly you survived and came back from the war with your body and mind intact."
"And what do you know of war my lady?" he asked, unable to keep anger form his voice at the presumptuousness of this haughty blonde.
"All I know is that for those it does not kill, it wounds, either on the outside or the inside. My brother is not the same after the war, the carefree boy I grew up with is gone Lord Stark."
"At least he yet lives, plenty of boys I grew up with lie in graves scattered across the Riverlands and the Westerlands. I don't know what it is to be a boy anymore my Lady; I had to grow up quick, to learn that fighting is not glory and songs. It is mud, blood, terror and slaughter all jumbled up into chaos, and the knowledge that you will have to do it all over again and again."
"You won many battles, earned the title 'the young wolf', you must be good at it?"
"Maybe, but I don't like it, or, or I'm afraid to like it, I don't know. My father once said that the only thing more terrible than a battle lost is a battle won...."
The girl said nothing in response and the silence hung heavy between them as the seconds ticked by, until Robb decided that he had to break it "do you, you know of the North?" he asked, stuttering slightly, suddenly felling as if he was walking on ice.
"I read about it when the war started, a, dare I say it, stark place..."
"It is very different from what I have seen of the Riverlands and the Westerlands; it's emptier, wilder. Towns are more scattered, farms cluster around them, or where the best soils are, much of the land is unpopulated, there are lots of forests....lots of forests...." he ran out of things to say, the North, well it was the North...
"And its people? The girl asked, the question sounding genuine enough.
"Loyal, proud, good natured, wary of outsiders but committed to family and community."
Cerenna nodded her head at this and said "we live a