7th Moon 139AD
Great Hall of Kings
Looking around the great hall that they found themselves in, underneath the great dome of glass that showed the blue sky up high in the sky, Brandon couldn't help but think out loud. "Do you think he's trying to compensate for something?"
Glen held back a cough from the depths of his throat whilst little Elric looked between him and his grandfather an innocent expression of confusion on his face. Torrhen though, his kingly brother sent him a sharp look. "Brother, please."
"It's an honest question." he defended himself as they walked past marble statues made in the likeness of former Kings of the Trident. From the Fishers to the Justmans. Interestingly enough, he had yet to see anything resembling statues on the Teagues. Where they not river kings once upon a time? "We spent an hour riding through what was just a garden to get to this damned-." he glanced towards Glen. "What does he call it? Palasse or something?"
"Palace." Glen coughed politely into a fist as they continued their little walk.
"Yes." he motioned his hand in a manner that signified that he couldn't really careless about the type of building he found himself in. "An hour, brother. Through a garden. A garden.He must be trying to compensate for something."
"Considering he has five children with his queen, he must be suitable enough in the bed chambers."
"A quick rub and the trout can produce all the seed he wants for children."
"I can't believe we are talking about this. In his home as well." Torrhen muttered as he shook his head.
Elric pulled up to him then, tugging at the helm of his doublet. "Seed uncle? What sort of seeds do trouts have?"
Smiling wolfishly, Brandon pulled the little prince close. "Well little pup-." only to be stopped by his brother who had pulled up on the other side of Elric and gently pulled him away from his grasp.
"There will be none of that." Torrhen sighed, sending him a look of warning. He looked back towards Pale Emmon. "Emmon, if you would kindly look after the prince."
The guardsman inclined his head. "As you wish your grace." as he took into hand the young prince who immediately pulled the guardsman towards one of the statues that adorned the hall. Elric was a bit of a handful, but all of the Winterfell guardsmen knew how to handle the young prince.
They themselves took to observing some of the statues and at closer inspection, the statues came with plaques that commemorated the deeds done by the kings themselves. Apparently, the statue they found themselves standing in front of was the one of the famous Benedict I Justman, founder of House Justman. Observing it, he noticed that it was a little bit bigger than the others, with a little bit more detail and a little more colour.
The favouritism was blatant.
"I admit, this reminds me of the crypts back home." brother admitted with a sigh. "Of all the Starks that have long since come before me. I'll have a statue of my own down there in those crypts one day and other Starks after me."
"Missing Winterfell already, your grace?" Glen asked, a hit of impish delight in his voice. "Have mercy for me, one who rarely travels to White Harbour on the rare moon."
Torrhen held back a snort of amusement with great ease. "I believe you volunteered for such a duty."
"I was the only one capable to carry out this duty required of me by my king."
Grey eyes turned to face the round merman for a moment. "If you wish for pity, you shall not find it in me, Ser Glen."
A smirk came across Brandon's own lips. "We serve such a caring king, Glen. Be glad of it."
"I shall be making a gift of it of course."
Quiet sounds of laughter followed suit from the three of them, before the sounds of footsteps attracted their attention behind them. Turning around, he was greeted with the sight of someone he had not seen in years. "Lyanne!" He greeted loudly, his arms opening as he waited to embrace his niece.
"Uncle!" She laughed loudly as they came together, arms wrapping around the other. "It's been too long! How have you been? Well I hope."
"Oh, I have been nothing but fantastic child! Though I admit, Winterfell has been quiet without your singing to lift the castle during the winters."
"And I see that tongue of yours has not dulled with age." She giggled as she moved away from him and towards her father. The girl curtsied. "King Torrhen."
Torrhen rolled his eyes and urged her to come to him. "Oh child, stop that. I'm your father for the love of the gods. Do I not get a hug myself? Or am I not worthy enough?"
As if he had to ask as father and daughter embraced for the first time in years. Despite sharing letters constantly between them, Brandon knew that Torrhen had missed the sight of his only daughter. He might have missed her, but it was nothing comparable to the sort of feelings of distance between that of a loving father and daughter.
Having his attention now away from Lyanne, he turned towards the shadows that had edged towards them slowly with some caution. They were guardsmen really, two of them, but the children that stood in front gave him pause. He kneeled down to get a better look at them and he immediately recognised them for what they were; kin.
The long face and the grey eyes were more than evidence enough.
He gave his softest smile. "Hello there, I'm Brandon." he introduced himself with a touch of the hand to his heart. "Who might you be?"
The two boys looked at each other before the other stepped forward boldly. "I'm Artys and this," he motioned to the other one who quickly stepped forward at the urging of his brother. "is Jasper! And together we are the Winged Princes of the Vale!"
Jasper looked despondent at that declaration, his long face of the Stark's looking a little bit longer as his jaw dropped slightly before turning his head to look to his brother. "Why did you have to declare that? I thought we agreed on the Winged Princes of the Eyrie?"
Artys turned to his brother, nose held high. "We are Princes of the Valethough. It wouldn't make sense to just limit ourselves to the Eyrie, silly." he turned from Jasper and back to him. "Are you Brandon Snow, our uncle?"
He nodded. "That I am."
"Mother told us a lot about you."
Jasper nodded his head eagerly. "Mother says you have a magic weirwood bow! That it can shoot further than any bow ever known to man! That it never misses it's target! That it can even pierce solid steel!" the boy said, his excitement bubbling through with every sentence he said. He was almost jumping where he stood.
"Can you show us?" Artys asked. "I think it's a bit silly. About the bow, not you. There's no way magic is real, our maester says so."
Jasper made a face. "Erryck is stupid. He doesn't know anything."
Brandon laughed as he rose to his feet, Torrhen and Lyanne having come to stand beside him along with Glen. "You have raised some lively boys Lya!" Brandon swore there was a certain wetting of his brother's eyes as he looked down at the boys.
Torrhen nodded, his blink being unusually slow and long. He definitely was going to cry. "They seem quite well, indeed. Elric!" he called out for his other grandson who was playing at the other side of the room. "Come here!" getting the boy to start dashing across the hall to where they stood.
Glen nodded his head as he appraised the two princes that were talking amongst themselves. "Quite fine indeed, your grace."
"I would hope so. They gave me little peace when they were still squalling babes." she said, a tone of pride the sort a wolf would only have in her voice. "And boys, your great-uncle is not a Snow anymore. He's a Wolf." she gave him a sly look. "Creative uncle, truly."
Glen held back a snort of amusement. Brandon grinned at her. "I like to keep it simple."
The boys shared a look between the two of them. "Wolf?" Jasper asked, head corked in cute confusion. "Isn't he already a wolf?"
Artys crossed his arms. "I don't get it."
Elric came to a sliding halt amidst the group of royalty, apparently having heard the last bits of the conversation as he spoke. "Uncle Brandon isn't Brandon Snow anymore. He's Brandon Wolf. Snow became Wolf." he faced the boys with the look only a child would have when they seem terribly pleased with themselves. "Now do you get it?"
The two princes each gave Elric a look of measure before they nodded in understanding. Artys stood up straight and held out a hand. "Apologies uncle, we did not know you had become legitimised."
"It's alright lads. It's not like I spread the news or anything to all the kingdoms in the land."
Jasper giggled some. "You're funny."
Lyanne leaned down some and pinched the cheeks of her children. "That he is, among other things." she shooed the children away to play, Pale Emmon and the two Arryn guardsmen shadowing them. That left Brandon, Torrhen, Glen and Lyanne to talk amongst themselves. The talk of adults.
"How goes the Vale?" Torrhen asked.
"Things have been good for a definition of good either way," the Queen of the Vale admitted with some small hints of hesitation before she sighed in dry amusement. "Some lords don't like me for obvious reasons. They meant to replace me when Jonos came to the throne, but now that he is dead, they try to make sure that Artys and Jasper aren't influenced so much by me."
Brandon and his brother shared a look between them. Then they turned to look at the children. "That seems to be going...well." the king in the north noted flatly.
Bringing the recalcitrant lords of the Vale to Ronnel's side, even after the death of his rebel brother had meant some concessions had to be given. Even with Jonos dead, the lords could have very well declared for their cousin Hubert, whether he wished for it or not, and brought war to the Vale. A war that Brandon would have been on the first boat to the Vale to fight for the sake of his niece.
Some of the concessions that Ronnel had to agree to was the fact that he had to unitarily declare that the Sisters were beholden to the Eyrie and the Vale for now and eternity and that no matter what, the Falcon Throne would come to the aid of the Sisters in the case of aggression by the north. Brandon and Torrhen had shared a skin of wine whilst howling in laughter at that. There was a reason the war for the Sisters was called the Worthless War. Ronnel and Lyanne had agreed but Lyanne had pushed for the Sisters to not shirk in their duties as lighthouse keepers, something the sistermen had reluctantly agreed to. Amongst another demand for the most noble lords of the Vale was that the two princes and future children shall be raised in the Faith and nothing more. They wouldn't even hear of anything even remotely resembling the two boys being raised in both faiths of the old gods and the new.
It was better than what he had expected and he was glad of it that the danger to Lyanne had come to pass, but she still found herself in a precarious situation, her every move watched by those who wanted her to fail or to very well replace her with a noblewoman of more acceptable blood and lineage.
"I meant at some point to foster one of the boy's in Winterfell when they were older," his niece revealed to them. "but with the agreements with those lords declarant, well..." she trailed off with a sigh of defeat.
"It's fine child." Torrhen said, watching the children play with each other. They were playing some game, with Jasper and Elric running away from their pursuer in Artys. "the safety of you and yours should be your priority. Though I may not come to see my grandchildren and they me, it is good enough for me to know that you are safe."
And yet you married her off to these southrons. Brandon did not voice his words.
Enough words had been voiced when Torrhen had revealed to him the initial dealings of the betrothal. It had not been a pleasant...conversation.
"How long ago did you arrive, your grace?" Glen asked, moving the conversation to more mundane things. The merman glanced in the direction of one of the entrances that led into the great hall, making them aware of the arrival of a gaggle of young lordlings dressed in their strange southron fashions. "Not too taxing, I hope?"
The walls have ears. Brandon reminded himself. This is not Winterfell. You never know when someone is listening.
"Oh it was absolutely pleasant." she had the widest smile on her lips as she spoke. "The feel of the fresh sea air and wind on your face, letting it run all over your body. There is nothing quite like it. A shame that Ronnel was not at ease at sea throughout the whole thing."
"I suppose that's another thing for his detractors to put against him." Brandon noted dryly. It was meant to be a jape, but he could somehow see it becoming reality.
The gaggle of lordlings moved about, talking amongst themselves. One of them must have said something funny for the rest to burst into sudden laughter that spread out through the hall.
Lyanne had a sheepish expression on her face at that. "Well, depends on how petty they are feeling." she said, giving voice to his thoughts. "though you have nothing to worry about. If this proceeds as well as he plans it to, then he can claim a victory and build better relationships with Jono's former followers."
"Plans?" Brandon asked, a certain mischief overcoming him. "Care to share us these 'plans' niece?"
"May haps in another lifetime, uncle."
*****
"And here I was expecting swords to be drawn and blood be spilt." Andrew complained, a cup of wine in hand.
Andrew's words caught Alfred off-guard for a moment. For another moment, he repeated the words that had been said to make sure that he had them correctly and moved to open his mouth, only for Ed to beat him to the prize first.
"Why would you be expecting such a thing?" he asked, a cup of wine in his own hands though his vintage was that of the Arbor. Expensive really, considering the less than stellar relationships between the Reach and that of the Trident.
Andrew made a careless motion with the hand. "Think about it, three kings and a hand underneath one roof. Not too long ago, we were at war with Prince Loreon's kingdom!"
"We also did capture their third prince," Garth added to the conversation, nodding his head. "I don't think little things like that are easily forgiven."
Alfred frowned. "It's been more than a decade since that time. It would be silly to hold a grudge for such a long time, especially in times of war. I do believe those sort of things happened."
Father made it a bit of a habit for him and Henry to occasionally travel the realm, so that they could know the kingdom that they were bound to come to govern in the future. Alfred had lost track the amount of farms, hamlets, villages, towns and cities he had spent a couple of days spending in with a gaggle of clerks following behind him getting him acquainted with everything that involved that small part of the realm.
It had been enough things to drive someone to drink.
With that startling realisation, he had learned one great truth about humanity. Get enough people together into some sort of settlement and one of the core mercantile businesses that would most surely be thrown up would be that of the tavern or inn.
The Fisher was one such establishment.
A rather large one considering that it catered to some of the more affluent citizens and travellers of Edmynburgh, including that of the nobles that came to court and would like to spend their time in something else other than the personal chambers given to them. It was perhaps the largest establishment of its kind in the city though there were other inns and whorehouses that rivalled it for that distinction.
The owner of this property had spared no expense really. Truly large amounts of coin had been thrown to make sure that the building was lavish and luxurious enough that one could mistake it for the insides of some prominent and otherworldly rich noble. Chandeliers hanged from the ceiling and the sounds of merriment, music and singing could be heard on the ground floor, whilst in the basement, it could mostly be found sourleaf dens for those wishing to enjoy chemical pleasures instead of the flesh that were taken care off in the rooms upstairs. Alcoves ringed area with curtains that could be closed to provide privacy for private dances from the serving wenches or other business that required privacy.
Garth had once noted from their first time visiting this establishment that the owner must make good coin from all this. He had held his tongue from revealing the truth that he suspected his royal father was the owner.
He knew House Tully held private mercantile interests through 'corporate dummies' as father called them and it was only by accident that he had caught sight of father's ledgers that noted the interests that gathered coin for them. The Fisher was amongst one of them.
Andrew let out a great, loud snort that attracted the attention of some of the patrons before they quickly minded their own business. "Silly? I fear for the future of the kingdom if you think that, Al. Throughout the histories, you will find some kings go to war for some of the pettiest reason known to man. I mean, you cannot make some of the things they waged war for up!"
The prince waved him off. "Alright, alright, I'm being hopelessly naive. Is that what you want to say?"
Andrew guffawed as Ed leaned close and throwing an arm around him. "Our prince is still innocent by the looks of it. No worries, my prince, you shall have capable man to tell you to stop when you are being stupid."
He glanced at Ed and realised those words were oddly familiar. He frowned. "Has my father been speaking with you lot again?"
"The king is an interesting man." Garth said, wiping at the dribble of river red at his mouth with the back of his hand. "And you forget that I've known you since I was a young lad, even longer for Ed there. Don't know about Andrew though." the Goodbrook made a sound akin to a 'fuck you!' from the other side of his cup. "We were bound at some point to have conversations with the king."
"And as I was saying," Andrew slammed his now empty cup of wine onto the table. "Like, why hasn't anyone fought yet? Everyone is being so civil that it's so strange! Shouldn't the westermen have something up their arse? Trying to prove something after the trouncing we gave them with the greenhands?"
Ed drummed his fingers onto the table, his cheek being propped up by his other hand. "I'm more curious as to why they are even here really. The current king is half-Gardener isn't he? It's no secret that the Gardener's love us not."
Garth hummed for a moment as he called for another bottle of wine from a passing serving girl. "Well, there's the canal isn't there? It cuts a lot of time travelling to the likes of Lannisport. Think of the amount of trade and wealth they would bring in if their merchants are able to pass through it with generous trade terms."
"So it's matters of coincounting?" Andrew asked, an eyebrow raised. He blew his lips. "That's not as interesting as I thought it would."
Ed smiled at him. "Well, these sort of things have to be thought about by kings and the likes my friend."
Garth and Ed then proceeded to tear into Andrew and what they regarded as his boorish ways, though the nature of the teasing was good natured and he gave as good as he got. Andrew might not have been the most studious out of the four of them, but he was capable enough and more than that when it came to terms of knighthood. He had been the first among them to be knighted after all.
Alfred then allowed his eyes to roam, to take in all the merriment in the Fisher. He wasn't surprised to see the large amount of higborn amongst the number of the revellers but they in turn were dwarfed by the large amount of smallfolk that had the coin to spent it in this place.
From the corner of his eyes, he spotted some familiar faces he had noted that had come in with the party from the Westerlands though he did not have a chance to learn their names when he had come out to greet them, he could at the very least recognise some of the sigils they left for all to see upon their persons, the green arrow of Sarsfield, the purple roundels of Plumm and the black manticore of Lorch. Quite the noted company, the prince noted.
Westermen were not the only one's here for Alfired had spied and overheard earlier on in the day that some vale and northmen had planned to go into the city and see the sights and enjoy themselves. He could make a good guess that they were probably here somewhere in the large spaces of the inn.
It was then that he saw familiar faces and he rose up to wave for them garnering the attention of his already seated companions. "Ethan! Rickard!"
Whether he liked it or not, over the past few years, Alfred had come to learn that he was building something of a court. Something he had come to accept as inevitable, but he made sure to keep his court as small as possible. He did not want to be one of those princes that went everywhere with a large train of people following after him.
Father had made due by leaving the social aspects of running the kingdom to mother and he planned to do the same as well when he came to the throne. Therefore he decided to court people he perceived as useful and value to him.
Ethan Hardy and Rickard Frey were people of value to him.
Rickard Frey was simple enough, he was to be the next Lord of the Crossing and his future goodbrother. He was an amicable and gregarious enough fellow and he had come to like him, even if he thought he was a bit too on the nose.
Although the prince would admit to himself that Ethan was sort of an oddity. He wasn't of the riverlands, but of House Hardy of Crackclaw Point. His house had escaped the conquest of the point to the Celtigars and their proxies by seeking shelter in father's court and the rest, as father would say, was history. Ethan brought no allies with him, but he was someone that Alfred had come to see as quite agreeable.
"Well, if it ain't Prince Alfred!" Rickard greeted loudly, perhaps a bit too loudly for the prince's liking, but he smiled all the while. "I admit, I'm quite surprised to see you here. I didn't know you were a patron of this fine establishment! You should allow me to buy you a drink in future visits!"
"I think I'll take you on that offer." the prince replied with a warm smile as they made space around their table for the two to join them. "Though I fear in doing so, I would ruin you from drinking you under the table."
Rickard guffawed. Loudly. Too loudly. "Us Frey's have more than enough coin at the side to pay for some drinks." he looked around the table at the rest of his companions, eyeing them all, appraising them maybe before nodding his head at each. "Greetings! Rickard Frey, heir to the Crossing at your service!" he reached over and threw an arm around the shoulder of Ethan. "And this mute here is Ethan Hardy, heir to nothing of note."
Yes. Definitely a little too close to the nose, but he was to be his goodbrother and he was bloody rich as well.
Andrew glanced at him once and nodded. "Andrew Goodbrook, not an heir but doing alright for myself."
"Edward Mallister, heir to Seagard. A pleasure to meet you."
"Garth Varner of Longleaf Hall." a moment passed. "I'm not a heir though, but an actual lord."
Alfred would admit that he did somewhat enjoy the slight souring of Rickard's expression at Garth's words. At the very least, that knocked a little of his wind down, but knowing him, his wind would soon come back to pick him up and he would be back to normal.
Ethan removed Rickard's arm from his shoulders with enough practiced ease. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. It's always nice to meet new people, make new acquaintances, even friends. Something that I think can be drank to."
Andrew chuckled deeply to himself. "I think that is something that I can drink to as well." and with that, another bottle of wine was ordered. "To new beginnings and friendships!" he toasted, clashing the cups together, some wine spilling onto the table. Andrew laughed at the sight where he was joined by an equally loud laugh from Rickard. "What a waste, but oh well!"
"I'm surprised we have yet to meet though, my lord." Garth was saying to the Hardy lordling.
"Please, call me Ethan," he returned. "though I think our lack of meeting till now is because I'm trying to make myself busy."
"And a lack of care on my part really." Alfred admitted, drinking form his own cup. He could feel a certain buzz and he made a note to himself to stop drinking. He would not like to return to the palace drunk as a dockside sailor. "A situation never came up to introduce the lot of you, my oldest friends to the newest ones."
"We've all been busy really." Ed chimed in with a conciliatory tone. "Me in Seagard, Garth in Longleaf and Andrew at Harrenhal. Times like this where all of us are together are quite rare."
"What he said." Andrew slumped over the table, his words a bit of a slur. "You have no idea how much I needed this. Al, do me a favour, can you tell your royal father to stop trying to run us into the ground at Harrenhal? The constant exercises! It's enough to make a man mad!"
"Clearly its not working considering you still seem to be sane." Ed noted with a laugh.
Alfred turned his attention back to Ethan. "How have you been keeping yourself busy anyway?" he asked. "nothing to strenuous I hope."
The Hardy lordling sheepishly laughed. "To be honest, I've been trying to find means of employment for myself. I mean not to sucker on the largesse of your royal father for any longer. It's shameful to me and my house."
Rickard grinned as he leaned forward. "Though he's having a bit of trouble with that."
"Why?" Alfred asked, confused. "I've seen you in the training yard. Any lord would be lucky to have you in their household."
For that, Ethan could only shrug. "Who knows? I have yet to learn the answer myself."
"Well, I can't be having that." the prince said, shaking his head. "Why don't you become a part of my household then?"
"You have a household?" Rickard asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, no." the prince admitted sheepishly, "but I'm making one as of right now. I have more than enough in my personal chest to hire you."
Ethan blinked for a moment before shaking his head. "I can't."
"You can." Alfred said with renewed confidence and authority. "like I said, any household would be lucky to have you and thus, it would be lucky for me to have you."
Rickard laughed. "Hear that Hardy?" he asked, patting the lordling's back. "You got yourself something to do! This calls for more drinks I think!"
As Rickard called for more drinks, Ed leaned in to him and whispered. "I don't think I like him."
"I don't either to be honest," Alfred replied. "but what can I do? I'll be sharing my bed with his sister at the turn of the year. I kind of need to like h-."
The sounds of a tray and glasses crashing to the floor echoed loud enough to quiet the part of the inn they were in for a moment. Everyone seemed to turn their heads to the source of the noise and it was where the westermen group was seated.
One of them was standing up, hands out beside him, looking down at his clothes that seemed to be wet. Alfred recognised the arrow of Sarsfield. "You stupid wench!"
"Apologies, m'lord," the comely serving girl apologised profusely. "I did not see you there. We'll have new clothing for you to change into something drier."
Andrew drunkenly muttered something about the Sarsfield that was to slurred to make-out and Alfred didn't hear properly that seemed like a scoff and some kind of curse among other words.
"As fine as this?" the Sarsfield man asked with a sneer on his face that was more than visible enough from where he sat. "No, I think I shall demand reconmpense in another manner." he cupped the girls face, turning it this side and that. "You're comely enough." he said to the laughter of his fellow westermen.
Garth shook his head as the sounds of merriment slowly but surely started come back alive, ignoring the ensuing drama happening just a few tables away. "Bunch of idiots. There's rules to this sort of places."
Ethan stood up, his hand trying to go for the sword that was not at his side. "I don't think they know that."
Rickard grabbed the lordling by the arm and pulled him back down. "Sit down, the guards will be here soon enough to deal with it." he said.
Ethan pointed towards the girl who was trying to say something. "I don't think they will be here quick enough."
Alfred doubted the Sarsfield man would just rape the poor girl out in the middle of the inn like this. One had to be an animal to do that sort of thing, but she was looking particularly distressed and the way she was dressed was more than enough to tell him that she was nothing more than a normal serving girl and not one of the courtesans that made the rounds.
He reached out behind him and tapped the shoulders of his shadows. "Sorry to disturb you lads, but do you mind helping the girl out?"
The men of the blackfish nodded. ""As you will, my prince."
Three of them rose and made for the group of westermen. Apart from the guards, the blackfish were the only patrons in the entire inn that were armed with steel.
Alfred looked towards Ethan. "Does that put your mind at ease?"
His newest and first addition to his household nodded as he sat. "Aye, it does, my prince. You are a good man."
"Hopefully, not too good a man." he replied sipping his drink. Father says that being too good might make me bad at being a king. the sound of someone being thrown into a table attracted his attention, making him jerk his head to the sauce in confusion. "Oh what now?"
Ed was standing up, looking in the same direction just like everyone else. "It seems," he began dryly. "those westermen needed some forceful convincing."
Looking over to where the Sarsfield man was being grappled to the ground and the others being held back at sword point.
Looking at it all, Alfred couldn't help but feel like he was sobering up quite quickly as he realised that he might just have caused an incident that might come back to bight his father in the rear.
Father is going to kill me.