Riverlands
The fortress of Riverrun, triangular in shape, stood proudly at the confluence of the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers of the Trident. From a distance, it looked both exquisite and formidable. The fertile lands surrounding Riverrun, nourished by the two rivers, made it an ideal location for a castle. At the same time, the rivers provided natural, strong fortifications.
Unfortunately for Riverrun, Viserys had sent his fleet directly. Jorah Mormont led 10,000 troops and 100 small warships to encircle the castle. He crouched down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and sniffed it. Once, he would have envied such fertile land, but now, with his estates and mansions in Tyrosh, it no longer impressed him.
More importantly, Jorah could see from Viserys's recent actions that he was tightening his grip on the nobles of Westeros. The future of the Seven Kingdoms won't just be about Targaryen dominance, Jorah mused. It may be that only the Targaryens remain. He suspected that Viserys would eventually drive the Westerosi nobility into exile, perhaps to the Free Cities. The sooner Viserys acted, the stronger his position would be.
Jorah looked remarkably at ease during the siege, and for good reason. First, Viserys hadn't demanded that he take Riverrun quickly. Second, there were fewer than 200 soldiers defending the castle. Hoster Tully, long bedridden and frail, was still holding the fort. His body had withered with age, his muscles atrophied, and he now stood more than half a head shorter than in his youth. The armor that once fit him now hung awkwardly, like a shell draped over his frame.
Hoster stood on the battlements, staring down at the black banner of the three-headed dragon rippling in the wind like waves.
"My lord, Viserys says that if you surrender, he will spare Edmure. He'll allow him to take the black and join the Night's Watch," a guard relayed.
"Hmph!" Hoster snorted. "If that dragon-spawn brat Viserys is so capable, let him send his dragon over here. I could defend Riverrun with twenty men, let alone two thousand!" He paid no mind to the terms of surrender. In truth, Hoster was desperate. If Viserys would spare Edmure—and perhaps even leave him a small fief to marry and have children—he might have considered surrender. But Viserys would never agree.
Allowing the nobles to intermarry would be too dangerous, Hoster reflected bitterly. House Tully was a prime example of this threat. They had nearly become the lynchpin of the "League of Usurpers." Viserys needed to set a brutal example for the nobility of Westeros. They would either marry into the royal family or marry their own vassals, nothing more.
That was why Jorah hadn't even considered attacking Riverrun head-on. The 10,000 troops he had brought weren't primarily for the siege. Eight thousand of them were stationed to guard against any approach from the Westerlands army, which could come from the direction of Golden Tooth. The remaining 2,000 soldiers, along with conscripted laborers, were put to work diverting the Tumblestone and Green Fork rivers of the Trident, preparing to flood Riverrun. Jorah's plan was to starve them into submission.
...
Five days later, with provisions running out, the defenders of Riverrun turned on Hoster. They beheaded him, and Riverrun fell.
Viserys ultimately chose not to execute Edmure Tully or Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, who had been brought from the Vale by Littlefinger. Instead, he sent the uncle and nephew to the Wall, dressed in black. When they arrived at Winterfell, they found that Ned Stark was also preparing to take the black and join the Night's Watch.
Ned and Catelyn had not slept at all the previous night. They had talked—about everything, from the first time they met, to their first kiss, to the births of their six children. Their conversation lasted until the light outside began to brighten.
"Ned, I'm going into labor. Can't this wait?" Catelyn's voice trembled with emotion, her chin set tightly, tears threatening to fall. She pleaded with her husband, hoping for one last moment together.
"I've taught Robb everything he needs to know," Ned replied softly. "And if there's something he doesn't understand, he can ask me. My love, Edmure and the others are waiting for me. I can't leave with this unresolved." He held Catelyn close, his hand gently stroking her swollen belly. In two months, their sixth child would be born. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that he was leaving her at such a time, just after the death of her father.
As the morning light grew stronger, Ned knew it was time. He rose from the bed, despite Catelyn's quiet entreaties, and began to dress. She watched as her husband went from being naked to fully clothed, draping the black cloak of the Night's Watch over his shoulders.
"Stark always liked black," Catelyn said bitterly, her voice trembling. "It seems he hasn't changed much, even as Lord Commander." With the help of her handmaid, she rose from the bed as well.
They went down to the dining hall together. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Brynden, Edmure, and the others were already there, gathered for what would be their last meal as a family. The hall was warm and quiet, though a somber air hung over the table.
Sansa had been crying through the night, and Arya couldn't quite understand why. Their father was only going to the Wall; surely, they could visit him. But at some point, Sansa had realized the sadness of not being able to see her father whenever she wanted, and that thought had kept her awake.
"Father, Mother," the children greeted their parents, standing as Ned and Catelyn entered the hall. Even Edmure and Brynden rose from their seats in respect.
The family sat together, not crowded but close, sharing one final meal. As they ate, the conversation naturally turned to the children.
"Father, I don't want to marry Viserys. He killed Grandpa!" Sansa suddenly burst out, her voice trembling with emotion.
Ned sighed, running a hand through her hair. "My child, Lord Hoster was killed by a traitor, not by Viserys."
Sansa fell silent, but the reluctance on her face remained. "You're thirteen now," Ned continued gently, "and in three years, you'll return to King's Landing."
At the mention of King's Landing, Sansa's heart sank. She had once gone there full of excitement, expecting to marry Prince Joffrey. But Joffrey was not even a Prince anymore, and she had been imprisoned in the Red Keep. To her, King's Landing was an ominous, cursed place.
Meanwhile, Edmure and Brynden said nothing. Viserys had shown them mercy by sending them to the Wall, and they were lucky to still be alive.
As they ate in silence, Maester Luwin entered the hall, holding a letter. He handed it to Ned, who opened it in front of everyone. After reading for a moment, he looked up and announced:
"I'm not leaving for the time being."