The Little Cub
Part 26 - The Curse of Harrenhal
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Lord Rickon Stark had not come to attend the Tournament of Harrenhal, for a war raged in his homeland. The North had been torn to pieces, with everyone having to pick their sides. The winter had come for Stark's enemies, and those once in league with the Leech Lord now had to fear for their lives. The angry wolf ruled with an iron fist, and meant to pay the harms done to his family back tenfold. Though Lord Roose and his bastard son were long dead, there were still those that carried their name. Lord Benjen and his three siblings had no part in what once took place between his and Lord Rickon's family, yet he had to pay the price after the war was done. From what I'd heard, Dreadfort had been sacked and it's people put to sword. The Boltons had all been imprisoned, and not long later I was brought the news that Lord Benjen had died in Winterfell's dungeons. The circumstances around his death were not told in the letter, but I had my suspicions. I'd tried to preserve the boy from such a fate by bringing him to King's Landing as a hostage, yet the Northmen had played me and Lord Umber's pleas to release Lord Benjen from my custody were answered to.
Now the young Bolton was dead, and his younger brother Jorah ruled the castle of Cerwyn. It was only in name, though, for he was but a boy living under a regent's rule. A man by the name 'of Boltongate' held the Dreadfort, and the Bolton siblings had been sent away from each other. Lord Roose's eldest daughter, Harra, had been married to Beren Karstark, the youngest son of Arnolf Karstark, whereas her younger sister Eddara was married to Lord Brun Umber, the man who'd convinced me to send Lord Benjen back to the North.
Now that they're done fighting the Boltons, they've humiliated them even more by taking their women to bed.
I was also told that some clans of the hilltribes had risen up in a revolt. Lord Rickon assured me that it was nothing, though, and easily dealt with. I trusted my Lord Paramount for I was reluctant to leave the capital. I'd been blessed with five years of peace during which I'd gotten to see my children to grow and the life had returned back to normal in the south after so many pointless wars. There would be time when I'd take my sword again and make widows to wail, yet time for vengeance wasn't yet nigh.
The realm needs a few more peaceful years before I take the fight back to those that once sought to destroy me. The Iron Islands, Braavos.. and others from the time before my rule. Aurane Waters had served my mother as the master of ships, only to steal away the newly built dromonds and go rogue. He'd crowned himself a Pirate King and set up a hideout in the Stepstones, harassing the merchant ships that sailed through the Tyrosh strait. He'd kept the old names of the ships to humiliate my mother, and Sweet Cersei along with the others had brought harm to people from Essos and Westeros alike.
The Lord of Waters can keep his titular titles and rule - under the sea, after I baptise him in the Ironborn way. After all, a Lannister pays his debts. And this one was long overdue.
My hopes of marrying Ryan Tully to Lady Lyssa Baelish of Harrenhal had not succeeded, and Littlefinger's heir had taken a Greyjoy into her bed instead. The war against the Ironborn had diminished the power of House Baelish, which no longer posessed the position of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. I had not returned that title to Lady Lyssa after I'd won the war her failure had led to, and several Riverlander lords sent letters to me to the capital, petitioning they should be given that position instead. Lord Karyl Vance of Southstone was one of them. The Brackens had lost their lands after reigning for thousands of years, and the House Vance now held their ancestral seat. Needless to say, the House Blackwood rejoiced for their old enemies were finally beaten. I replied to Lord Karyl and the other powerhungry noblemen that granting the title of Lord Paramount to them was not my desire. Ryan Tully had grown up to be an exemplary soldier, yet his skills in ruling were yet to be tested. The Freys had lost the lordship of the Crossing to the Ironborn, yet the twin towers still flew over Riverrun. I had been tempted to seize the remaining lands from the Freys and return the castle to its rightful rulers, yet I was above such arbitrary actions. So I waited for an opportunity, for a castle to fall into my hands so I could bestow it to Ser Ryan Tully and finally make him my Lord of the Riverlands.
Patience was not something I lacked, and so time flew. When my hopes finally were answered, the way it happened took me aback. Lady Lyssa Baelish had died untimely, having had fallen from one of the towers in Harrenhal due to leaning on a broken railing of a balcony. Some said that she'd been murdered, and others whispered that it had been the curse of Harrenhal that took her. The place was rumoured to be haunted, and I wasn't quite sure what to believe. I'd been to the ruins of Harrenhal several times, the last time a year ago when Ser Ryan had beaten me in the jousting tournament. I surpassed my protege's skills in swordsplay, and had expected to beat him in jousting as well. The fate had proved otherwise, bringing victory to the young Tully. And now that Harrenhal had passed on to the crown, I couldn't think of a better person to hold it in my name than the young man who'd been crowned the champion there.
Ruins or not, Harrenhal is seat worthy of a king, and its surrounding lands are one of the most fertile in the Riverlands. The fate of the Tullies had been uncertain, even doomed in some people's eyes, yet the trout had survived the war and the horrors during and after it.
Ryan's family was once respected and then brought down, only to rise again. May the boy do the same to Harrenhal, and break its curse.
I confronted Ryan about the matter, and he was as humble as ever. Riverrun had never been his home, and the young Tully had good memories from Harrenhal. So the matter was settled, yet I was not pleased yet. Anora, my eldest daughter was betrothed to Ryan, and she'd bled already.
''When you return to Harrenhal, I want you to take Anora with you'', I told him.
''It's about the time you two are married.'' I sent Ser Clifford to Greensward to inform Margaery that the time had come for our daughter to do her duty. She was fourteen, only a girl, whereas Ryan was nineteen already, a knight with experience in battle. I could only hope that Margaery had done what she could in the time I'd given her, and taught Anora what she needed to know. She would need to support Ryan, stand by him and give him children for that was her duty as a wife.
My little princess is not a child anymore.
Words were sent throughout Westeros that Ser Ryan Tully was to be raised as the Lord of the Riverlands and Harrenhal, and that he'd take my daughter as his wife. The ceremony was to be held in the capital, because I knew some people to believe in Harrenhal's curse and to think it a bad sign to seal their marriage within its ruined walls. Many lords of the Riverlands arrived to the wedding to witness when Ryan draped Anora into a cloak bearing the Tully sigil. During the feast that ensued, they swore fealty to the newly-wed young man, now officially Lord Ryan Tully of the Riverlands, their new liege.
Lord Ryan's reign began with a war. Though Queen Asha had promised to retreat from the Riverlands, she had not followed conditions we'd set in the peace treaty. Instead of pulling away completely from the mainland, her countrymen remained manning Seagard and Twins. The lands were on the way to the North, and the Ironborn had not dared to leave the area due to the massive incomes they received from taxing the merchants and other folk for crossing the Green Fork. Needless to say, the people weren't happy and turned to their new liege lord. There was a truce between me and Queen Asha so I could not interfere even though I would've wanted to return the Iron Islands back to the realm. Lord Ryan wasn't bound by that, however, and declared a war of his own over the Twins.
It's something the young Tully has seen before in that same place. Now, however, he is the one leading the men. This was his war, and no requests for reinforcements ever arrived to my hearing.
For too long the Riverlanders have been a prize in others game. Time has come for them to strike back.
Back when Ryan was still but my squire, he'd saved Ser Godry Farring's life in the Battle of Browntoft in Holyhall. The Kingsguard had lost his other arm in the fighting, but at least he'd got to keep his life. Five years had passed since that day, and my stalwart whitecloak's extended time had now ran out. Ser Godry had been out in the city during his free time, where he was assaulted by a commoner man. The wounds the kingsguard received in the battle were lethal, and the attacker's motive remained a mystery since the man had disappeared after the deed. The Commander of the Goldcloaks, Ser Rolland Storm was assigned to investigate the matter, and he told me the man's name was Edderion and he owed four silvers in a local tavern. Other than that, the man wasn't from around here and had vanished into the thin air.
There were always seven Kingsguards, just like there were seven gods in our faith. I'd done an exception when I'd let Ser Godry take the white cloak, because he was a follower of the eastern firegod, R'hllor. The foreign religion had not gotten any more popular after Stannis's defeat, but his former followers were still allowed to practice their religion. I had forbidden burning people in the name of one's faith, but this time I made an exception. A pyre was gathered at Rhaenys's hill in the ruins of the Dragonpit. I personally lit it and watched how the flames took what was theirs. My family was there with me, and the remaining six Kingsguards guarded us should anyone try the same as with Ser Godry. The common folk was allowed to be present, and for that evening we stood as equals, watching together how the fallen hero perished in the dancing fire. I wanted the people to understand that Ser Godry's death should touch them as well, no matter of what birth one was.
There are men here who fought beside him in many battles, even if they haven't carried swords for these past five years that I've given them peace.
Now that the ranks of the Kingsguard had dwindled, I needed to appoint a new man for the lifelong job.
Balon Swann, Osmund Kettleback, Barristan Selmy, Archibald Yronwood, Clifford of Blackhaven and Matthew Grammatton.. who shall join their ranks? I'd tried to improve the Kingsguard, and the men I'd appointed were all talented in fighting, even if with small character flaws.. Ser Clifford, Ser Matthew and Ser Osmund were nonames, so I considered it to be the best if the new man would be from a prominent family. I first turned to the Vale for there were no Kingsguards from that region. After a few suggestions from my councillors, I decided to send a letter to Ser Cortney Waynwood, a grandson of Lady Anya Waynwood and the son of the current Lord, Morton Waynwood.
From what I was told, Ser Cortney was recently widowed. What I didn't consider that he was the firstborn son, and therefore the heir to his father's lands. Instead of accepting my offer to take the white cloak, he refused, stating that his family needs him more than I do. So I had to look elsewhere. I ended up asking the grandson of Lord Ralph Buckler of Wendwater, Guyard Buckler. He was but sixteen years old, but then again my father had been fifteen whereas Ser Loras was seventeen when joining the Kingsguard. Ser Guyard was just as good in fighting as they had been from what I'd heard. I received a positive reply, and a few days later the young man arrived to King's Landing to begin his service.
Some commoners had risen up against the Ironborn rule at the Twins, weakening their defences even before the Riverlander army arrived. Seagard had already fallen, and its gates were opened to Lord Ryan and his twenty thousand men. Overall it seemed like the war would be won, as Queen Asha had troubles at the homefront as well. House Goodbrother of Great Wyk had risen up in a revolt against King Euron after the invasion over the Reach, and Victarion Greyjoy's arrival at the back of a dragon from Meereen had put an end to that fight. Lord Greydon had lost one of his arms in the fighting, and was later pardoned - after the removal of his genitals as a reminder what happens when one raises up against the Greyjoys. Old hatred lived on, and Lord Greydon had revolted once again after the Riverland's fall from the Ironborn's grasp.
I wonder what Queen Asha means to take from him this time.
The civil war at the Iron Islands was turning to the Greyjoy's victory, but the Kraken's Daughter had lost several of her kinsmen during the past months. At first Victarion Greyjoy's second son, Tristifer, was lynched by a mob supporting the Greydon rebels. Then his firstborn son and the former husband of Lady Lyssa Baelish, Dagmer Greyjoy, died in suspicious circumstances. As if those two deaths had not been enough, the dragonrider Victarion Greyjoy himself was murdered. After investigating the matter, Pyke's maester, Wendamyr, was found guilty of having poisoned Victarion's food. I was aware that the relations between Asha and her uncle had gotten worse over time, and began to wonder if she had a hand in convicincing the maester to do the deed since the man ran free despite his actions. Victarion's dragon had gone wild from its master's death, but somehow the Ironborn had managed to chain it. Should the only living son of Victarion, the twelve years old Rus Greyjoy one day tame the beast was yet to be seen.
At least Lord Ryan doesn't have to fear that the beast will descend upon his army.
The sixth nameday of the twins was coming up, and I needed to make decision of who'd raise them. Alla and I not been blessed with other children, and neither of us were young any longer. I would reach the thirties soon, and my wife was four years older than myself. Still, I had an heir, a son whose parentage I had no doubts about, and a daughter to make my days merrier. I'd tried to be as good father to Anora as I could, but with her being fostered in Greensward and now in Harrenhal, it had been a hard task. I could only hope I'd learn to be a better father to my younger children.
I am a soldier, and that is what I can teach my son. But do killers make good kings? I suppose I need not only teach him how to be a good swordsman, but also how to be a good man. And so young Arry's time as a ward began under my protective wing. The road would be long before he was ready, but I meant to groom him to command as best as I could. Anora would walk the road I'd set for her half-sister as well, and be educated about court life under Grand Maester Robert. She showed great aptitude in literature, history and learning, and I thought a Maester would be the best person to educate her in those matters.
I felt like something had changed in me. My children were growing up and life went on, but something seemed to be amiss. It took me a long while to realize what it was. For so many years I'd feared I'd die without an heir and send the realm to the same chaos it had been in at the beginning of my reign. But now that I had Arry, I had no need for any other children.
Being in bed has always been a duty for me, more or less. Two daughters were enough to bind two regions to my cause, and only one son would get to rule the Kingdoms after I was no more.
Starks have a tradition of sending their second sons to the Night's Watch to avoid any contesting about the succession. The relations between brothers are always complicated, I knew from my own experience.
Let Arry make brothers out of his friends and bannermen, for I no longer crave for more children or the way they are made.
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