38 Chapter 37: The judgement

The smell of blood and death hung heavy in the air like a dark cloud. All the rain in the world could not wash away the stain of blood sticking to the stone pavements of the castle.

Brynden watched with a frown as soldiers cut off heads from the corpses and threw them into the Green Fork. He wouldn't have recommended doing so but he was not in command of the King's army. Besides, the Northmen were thirsting for vengeance. The same could be said for his men but he had them tightly wound up. He could not afford to let the frenzy of battle take hold of his men. Nothing good would ever come out of it.

However, he also knew an idle mind and body is not good for the moment on the precipice of this victory.

"Gather the surviving Freys. Have them bound before bringing them to the hall. The King would wish to pass judgment on those traitors."

"As you wish Ser."

As the men went ahead to carry out his orders Brynden was on a mission of his own. Even if he has a very low opinion of his nephew, Brynden could not deny the lad his wish to see his Frey wife and child to safety. It must be one of the cruel japes of the gods to have his nephew marry a Frey and have a child from this union. The moment the Tully cloak was draped over the shoulders of that Frey girl she came under the protection of House Tully and became the Lady of Riverrun.

If he had his way, he'd have preferred to forget the marriage even happened. Unfortunately, the child complicated the situation. No matter the animosity that his nephew could muster against House Frey, he was incapable of extending that same animosity to his own flesh and blood.

Even Brynden found it hard to do such a thing. With the war taking a huge toll on his family he could not care to further diminish his family just because the child was born to a Frey. Family, Duty and Honour are the words Tullys lives by. Family should come first as it has always been.

It took him quite a while to discern the location of Roselyn Frey and her child. While the western castle was not the focus of the bulk of the siege it still bared the marks of men's vices in battle. A lot of blood was spilt in the castle and women folk both highborn and lowborn were not spared from the realities of war. Quite a few women looked like they were manhandled roughly and he suspected there were more than just a few victims of rape. However, the men in the castle were Northmen and they were under the direct command of the King.

Knowing how pigheaded the Northmen can be he dared not make his opinions known. There was a time and place for everything. He could raise the matter with the King when the opportune time came.

For now, he'd have to pretend he was blind to the blight of these women. Squaring his shoulders, Brynden pushed forward with his search.

It took him quite a while but he finally found Roslin Frey and his nephew's child. They were huddled together with a group of women and children inside a chamber with sturdy Northmen standing guard.

"No one is allowed to take the prisoners anywhere." One of the guards said, stopping Brynden from escorting Roslin outside of the chamber.

"This is Roslin Frey, the wife of Edmure Tully. I will have my nephew's wife and child in my protective custody." Brynden argued, only to have the tip of a spear pointed at his face.

"I don't care who you are or who the Frey is. We have orders from the King to secure all Freys until his arrival."

Letting out a snort of frustration Brynden was about to argue further but a voice stopped him.

"Don't bother Ser Brynden. My brother has given strict instructions prior to the siege. Jon will decide the fate of all Freys regardless of their connections and relations."

The guards immediately bowed and Brynden took in the new arrival. It was a girl dressed in black trousers, thick boots and leather armour. Hair as black as night reached to the girl's shoulder while stormy grey eyes stared at him devoid of emotion.

"Lady Arya." the guards greeted the girl and Brynden immediately made the connection.

"Are you…?" Brynden choked up unable to articulate properly overwhelmed by emotions.

When the grey-eyed girl nodded he rushed forward and embraced his niece's youngest daughter.

"We thought you were dead. Your mother… Oh, thank the gods Old and New!"

It was as if a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. Having seen the devastation that befell his niece and the heartbreak she endured before being cruelly cut down at the Twins, Brynden was relieved to learn of Arya's survival.

"Your mother worried about you so much. There was not a day that'd go by without your mother praying for your safety. Her prayers and tears were not in vain." Brynden murmured as he held Arya close to his heart.

When he gradually released Arya the corners of his eyes were watered. Rubbing his eyes he took a good look at the youngest daughter of his niece.

"Your mother wasn't exaggerating. You have the proper looks of a Stark."

That put a smile on Arya's face.

"Father used to say I'm a lot like my aunt Lyanna."

"Your father was not wrong." Brynden said, a pained look on his face at needlessly bringing up Eddard Stark.

"What were you doing with the prisoners?" asked Arya.

Brynden let out a sigh looking at the wife of his nephew held back by the guards at the doorway. If the woman wasn't holding that little bundle he would have been in a position to ignore this situation altogether.

"The gods seem to love cruel japes. Your uncle married Roslin Frey and from that union, a child was born. I was trying to secure her and the child as per Edmure's wishes."

Brynden took note that whatever familial feelings Arya Stark held for him vanished in an instant at the news.

"I see." Arya muttered coldly. "All Freys stay under guard until the King passes his judgement upon them. There are no exceptions."

Brynden let out a sigh as he was more than aware that Arya and the King are more than justified in their animosity. But, he had to try for his nephew's sake.

"Roslin is the mother of your uncle's child." said Brynden.

"And she is a Frey. She's nothing more than that name and she'll be judged just like everyone else. Where you see uncle Edmure's wife, I only see a traitorous southerner who took part in my family's murder." Arya snapped, her eyes fiery with anger and flames of revenge lurking beneath the grey.

Just then a guard rushed to their side running and out of breath.

"The King is coming, my lady."

Arya smiled and there was not a hint of femininity in it. It was a smile that oozed malice and little else.

"Good. Have the prisoners sent to the feast hall." Arya ordered but quickly added more as she looked at Brynden. "Bring all the prisoners."

Brynden was left powerless as he watched the Frey survivors getting dragged out none too gently by the guards. Many cried and pleaded but there was no mercy to be found amidst the Northerners. His only hope to save the child and wife of his nephew was to plead with the King. So, he followed the prisoners and settled at the feast hall beside Arya.

Then, the wait began.

First, he heard footsteps and the clanking of metal. Then the doors opened wide and there he was, the King with a whole bunch of Northern lords at his back. But, that was not the most important detail.

No! The most important detail was the King, who was drenched in blood from head to toe. The King had his sword in hand dripping blood drop by drop on the pavement. With his face covered in blood and the red cloak billowing behind his back, the King was clearly in his most intimidating form.

"Ah! Congratulations are in order I think. My cousin, Arya Stark has facilitated this great victory by breaching the defences of the Twins." King Daeron declared. "It'd also seem she has also fulfilled her oath."

Brynden followed the line of sight of the King and looked at the far end of the hall where Walder Frey's head was mounted on a spike.

"I hope the wretch died a painful death."

"He most certainly did." Arya replied, a cruel glint in her eyes.

Brynden looked between the two and felt that his task to keep his nephew's wife and child alive was going to be a difficult task. It'd have helped if there were more reasonable people present.

Alas, he could only find blood-hungry Northerners!

'What happened to the Vale lords?' Brynden wondered.

Suddenly a commotion broke out as he watched Clement Piper rush out and embrace his son. The father duo sobbed as they reunited in the accursed halls of House Frey.

'There is a certain irony in this.' Brynden thought before looking at the King who used this opportunity to walk towards the head table.

Now, the real struggle begins. He prayed to the gods that his House would come out of this intact.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daeron sat comfortably on a chair set upon an elevated podium. The area was used to house the table for the guests of the Lord of Twins to dine but he was repurposing it to look down on the prisoners. Quite a lot of teary eyes were directed at him, all of them filled with fear.

That was good.

Fear, he realized, was a tool that he could use to finish this war quickly. Wasting more time in the Riverlands would be folly. He'd have to hand the finer details of pacification of the area into the capable hands of Tytos Blackwood and focus on the West. Securing the Westerlands and the gold of the area was a top priority. Not to mention he wanted to close the chapter on House Lannister and loot the rich blond shmucks so that he could buy out the support of the Iron Bank.

He could attempt a deal with the Iron Bank now but he was going to wait till he could control the mines of Westerlands and properly threaten Highgarden. Of course, he was not arrogant enough to believe everything would go according to plan. There were bound to be problems along the way but the general plan still stands. For now, securing the gold of Westerlands remains a priority for him.

So long as the Reach remained outside his control, a lot of gold was essential for securing resources from Essos. Without the trade with Essos, he'd be forced to conclude his campaign in the South. Such a situation would spell doom to his preparation against the White Walkers. He'd be weak and left floundering rather than project strength to the enemies further south.

And that would be a disaster.

"Your grace, please have mercy. We had nothing to do with the Red Wedding. We…" anything further was left in a pained cry as Lyra Mormont punched the Frey straight at his cheek.

"You'll speak when you are asked to Frey." Lyra snarled.

Daeron eyed the downed Frey with boredom. He was tired of all the whining and pleading. He had fought through the gates of the eastern castle after the gates were opened. There was no more need for using Rhaegal on the Twins when his army was fighting their way into the castle. So, he had joined in the attack after landing Rhaegal. There was hardly much resistance but the Northmen were here not to merely defeat the Freys. They were here for revenge and he fulfilled his promise by letting them unleash Northern justice on the eastern castle. Only some women and children were left alive when everything was said and done.

That's when he stepped in and exerted his control over the army. It probably saved the Freys from getting butchered in the western castle.

Nevertheless, this left him with a dilemma on how to proceed. Personally, he didn't want women and children touched. At the extreme, he'd go for exiling the whole lot to Essos or even Skagos.

Now, the males on the other hand…

"What is your name, Frey?" Daeron asked, palming the jewel-clad head of Dark Sister while looking at the Frey who got punched by Lyra.

"Your grace, I am Olyvar Frey. I was King Robb's squire. I had no part in his betrayal. My family had no part…"

"Relieve him of his head." Daeron snapped sharply.

There was a wail of despair as Lyra Mormont cleaved the head off from Olyvar Frey's shoulders with Longclaw. The Valyrian Steel sword true to its name cut through bones and flesh with nary an effort. With a thud, the headless body of Olyvar Frey hit the floor twitching and shaking. A pool of blood was quick to form on the paved floor.

"Answer to the question. I don't want to hear your life history. If you can't be bothered to follow simple instructions many more heads will be rolling on the floor whoever you are." Daeron thundered, not a soul daring to meet his eyes to challenge him.

"Now then…let's start once more. What's your name?" Daeron pointed at a random Frey in the litter and there were quite a few, despite the culling hashed out last night.

"P…Pe...Perwyn Frey, your grace."

The Frey was shivering like a leaf so Daeron toned down his stare and slowly tapped the floor with Dark Sister.

"Who's your father?"

"Lord Walder Frey."

"Your mother?"

"Bethany Rosby."

"Rosby?" Daeron mused before eyeing Ser Brynden who was standing to the side looking worriedly over the proceedings.

"Are you the brother of Roslin Frey?"

"Yes, your grace." Perwyn answered.

The tension in the air was so thick. Almost everyone was curious about what he was about to do.

Daeron was not ignorant of Ser Brynden's intentions. After all, the man had made the request of sparing Roslin Frey from any retribution when communications between their two camps were established before the siege. He was inclined to give in for Ser Brynden and Edmure Tully, but at a price. A single Frey who had no say in the events of the Red Wedding was not his target.

"Bring forth Roslin Frey."

Daeron took a good look at the petite woman before him holding a small child. The fear was obvious in her eyes and far more clear by the way she held the baby close to her as if her life depended on it. Truth be told, in some way the child is responsible for her fortune. With a child born in wedlock, she is the mother of House Tully's heir.

"Though I'm inclined to declare your marriage to Edmure Tully a sham and a fake, I must abide by the feelings of Lord Edmure. From what I understand, Lord Edmure acknowledges you as his lawfully wedded wife and as the mother of his child. Whether I like it or not, by the laws of gods and men, you are the Lady of Riverrun." Daeron said looking at Ser Brynden who nodded.

"But, I shall only show you or your child mercy if you but speak the truth, my lady. Under the roof of this castle, in this very hall, my cousin the King in the North and Trident was murdered. Your family pelted him with crossbow bolts before Roose Bolton stabbed him in his heart. Robb's wife, the Queen of the North, was stabbed in her pregnant belly killing her and the heir to the throne of the North. Your family killed Lady Catelyn, the Lady of Winterfell and the wife of my uncle Lord Eddard Stark. Her throat was slit by Black Walder and your family threw her body into the Green Fork. Your family paraded my cousin's body with his wolf's head sewn to his body. Your family has killed two generations of Northern lords and for this crime, House Frey shall be punished most severely." Daeron paused for effect.

"However, I offer you the chance to free your brother, Perwyn. His life is in your hands. So, speak the truth, my lady. Did you have prior knowledge of the plans of your family on the eve of your wedding? A yes or no shall suffice."

When Roslin refused to answer Daeron stood up and placed the flat side of Dark Sister against Perwyn Frey's left shoulder. The message was clear.

"I already know the answer. I just want you to say the truth before everyone. Say the truth or watch your brother die."

"No, please don't. I knew. Oh, gods! Yes, I knew." Roslin cried as she made her admission.

Daeron took Dark Sister away from Perwyn Frey's neck.

"As promised, your brother is free of death. He shall be escorted North where he will serve the rest of his natural life at the Wall."

There were some murmurs of protest but a sharp tap with Dark Sister on the floor hushed any dissent. Sitting back in his chair Daeron observed Roslin Frey and her child. His eyes then sought out Ser Brynden.

"Knowing what you know, do you still want Roslin Frey and her child?" Daeron inquired.

He could see the struggle behind the Blackfish's eyes. On one hand, the man would be extending the protection of House Tully to someone who betrayed his niece. On the other, the Blackfish could not turn his back on Roslin Frey as she is the wife of his nephew.

"She is the wife of the Lord of Riverrun. Vows were exchanged and Edmure gave her his cloak, the cloak with Tully colours. I'm duty-bound to protect her and her child." said Ser Brynden.

"You'd protect this Frey…?" Arya snapped.

"Arya!" Daeron warned and his cousin seems to somehow find her self-restraint to keep quiet.

"An admirable position. She is family to you through the child she carries in her hands. Just as you love your family, I love mine. Therefore, I am stripping House Tully of the Paramountcy of the Riverlands. Henceforth, no Tully shall ever again hold the title so long as their line is tainted by the blood of House Frey."

Daeron's declaration was met with gasps of surprise in the hall. There were quite a few Riverlords present and they were in a position to benefit from his decision.

"Aegon the Dragon made House Tully, Lords Paramount of the Riverlands. I, Daeron Targaryen, rescind this title from House Tully. Furthermore, Roslin Frey and any children from her union with Edmure Tully are forbidden from travelling outside of the lands controlled by House Tully. If they do so at any point in time without the blessings of House Targaryen, they shall be met with Fire and Blood. "

Daeron was more than aware that a punishment of this nature has never been dished out in the past. But, he was also aware none would dare to question his decision. He had shown mercy and allowed Roslin Frey to live despite her involvement in the Red Wedding. Rather than pursue revenge as Arya would prefer, he used the opportunity to dismantle House Tully.

Edmure Tully and his brood were nothing to him. A new coalition of Riverlords shall be formed loyal to Daeron and in time House Targaryen. His aim was to rebuild the Seven Kingdoms and the natural power of House Targaryen. For that, the old structures of power have to be done away with.

'The new seeds of power shall take root and they shall be of my design.'

"As for the rest of you lot…" Daeron looked at Lyra Mormont as his wishes were known to the she-bear. Mercy could only extend so far. There were still punishments to be meted out. Fortunately, there were a lot of Freys to receive them.

XXXXXXX

Willas felt like he was being torn apart. His mind could not keep up the pace with which troubles he was dealing with. Even with the advice of his grandmother whom he considered to be the smartest of his advisors, he was left floundering in the dark.

The Ironborn were ravaging their coasts. Trade has all but stopped and the smallfolk were afraid to work the fields. The Dornish were making slow gains in the south despite the Marcher lords holding fast against the tide of invasions. Lord Tarly has met defeat in the Stormlands and the last he heard the man was being chased out of the Stormlands by the Golden Company. He hoped Lord Tarly could somehow turn their fortunes around as the last thing he needed was for another front to open at the Reach's border with Stormlands.

Then the most disturbing news of all reached him in the form of a raven from Cersei Lannister. Both his father and sister were being held prisoners in the Red Keep.

"The Lannister woman has gone mad. Does she think we will obey her commands after her actions?" Willas wondered incredulously.

"Cersei is unhinged. She sees enemies in her shadows. The end has finally come for her." said Oleanna.

Willas observed his grandmother. Her penchant for making crude japes was absent ever since the raven came from King's Landing. The raven not just carried the word of his family's imprisonment but also the insane demand of supplying troops to attack the Dragon Queen who was supposedly making her merry way through the Crownlands.

It was madness!

The Reach was in no position to fight a war in the Crownlands. They were stretched thin with enemies attacking from all sides. The last thing he could do was to divert men and resources to the Crownlands when he had little to spare to keep the Reach from falling into chaos.

At the same time, the threat to the lives of his sister and father remained at large. Such a threat cannot be left unanswered as he remembered the fate of House Stark.

"Something must be done." Willas grumbled.

But, do what? That was the question.

"There is only one thing left to do when all options have been exhausted." said Oleanna.

Willas shivered at the grim tone of his grandmother. He had never seen her so shaken and vulnerable like this.

"What's that grandmother?" he asked.

"We surrender and seek the protection of a greater power. Find the Maester and send a raven to Daenerys Targaryen. What we need is a dragon. A dragon that can burn krakens and snakes back to the holes they crawled out of. We need Fire and Blood!"