Chapter Nineteen: Mixed Feelings

After that previous hour ended, Gregor let Dacey and Rickard alone so they could rest. He left his wife and their child in the trusted care of Vera and Maester Kennick.

Gregor then went out, gathered his people, and announced the arrival of his son. The proclamation was met with much delight and enthusiastic cheers.

For the remainder of the day, the residents of Moat Cailin – Legionnaires, servants, and villagers alike – celebrated the birth of their lord's heir. Toasts were raised, congratulations were given, and good luck was bidden.

As excited and anxious as he was about the future, Gregor still had work aplenty to do.

Mainly, there were a number of people who had to be informed of his son's birth. So in the early afternoon, he made his way to the rookery and set his mind to composing seven letters.

Two of them were rather casual in nature. They were meant for his family and Dacey's. After they were finished, they were dispatched by raven to Clegane's Keep and Bear Island. No doubt they would be received with great zeal.

The other five letters were composed in a much more formal rhetoric.

Each of those messages contained the exact same words as the other four, but Gregor predicted that each of the recipients would react very differently to reading them.

He was quite correct.

…

Whenever a child was born into a house, it was customary for the liege lord of that respective house to be notified very soon after. Especially if that child was the house's intended heir. As such, the first message was sent to Winterfell.

The raven reached the fortress in the early evening. At the time, Lord Eddard Stark had just supped with his family. He was making his way to the godswood to say an evening prayer when Maester Luwin intercepted him outside.

After he was given the piece of parchment, Ned Stark continued on to the godswood. There he sat against the trunk of the heart tree, opened the letter, and read it.

Dacey's pregnancy had been common knowledge throughout the North for the past several months. Naturally, the news of her delivery came as no surprise to Lord Eddard; he had already expected to hear of it sometime that month. Even so, he was pleased that the birth had been performed successfully and without any complications.

He was also intrigued by how Gregor Clegane had given his son the name of Rickard. Not only was it a Northern name; it was the name of Eddard's late lord father. He supposed he should be flattered by the Mountain's decision. Lord Karstark would certainly be.

Although it was not required of him, Ned planned to send a follow-up raven to congratulate Lord Gregor on the birth of his heir. He did this routine with all of his bannermen, but it was more than just obligation that motivated him to write the lord of Moat Cailin. For a number of personal reasons, he wished to maintain a level of regular correspondence with Gregor Clegane.

Secretly, the Mountain fascinated him. He who was generally very difficult to fascinate.

Years ago, when Eddard had merely be the second son of a great lord, he had heard tales of the Mountain That Rides.

Ned had been fostered in the Eyrie, so he had been as far away from Gregor as possible during the years of the latter's rise to prominence in the Westerlands.

Back then, Eddard found it remarkable how the son of the youngest and probably most insignificant house in the Westerlands had become one of the most beloved warriors in his region. With his size and his strength, he could have done whatever he wished and gotten away with it.

Eddard knew that just because one had opportunity to gain at the expense of others, one would not necessarily go through with it, even if one was very selfish. However, even in the North and the Vale, it was no secret that Tywin Lannister cared less for civilian loss of life than the other Lords Paramount of Westeros. With that in mind, Gregor would have had freedom to do as he liked, so long as his actions did not displease Lord Tywin.

Instead, he had gone out of his way to protect the innocent and uphold the law at the same time.

Eddard felt there was an interesting contrast to Gregor.

To the guilty, he was harsh, callous, pitiless, and even somewhat terrifying. To the innocent, he was gentle, empathetic, compassionate, and understanding.

During Robert's Rebellion, Gregor had demonstrated those qualities outside of his homeland.

Firstly, he had minimized the casualties during the Sacking of King's Landing, and he had severely punished those who had done deliberate harm to the smallfolk of the city. He himself had personally slain his own ally, Ser Amory Lorch, for the (supposed) murder of Rhaegar's children.

Then there were the events that had transpired in Dorne.

Eddard would never forget Dorne.

He had ridden to the Red Mountains, planning to find his sister and bring her home or die in the attempt. When he and his six companions encountered the Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy, he had expected a fight to the death.

But there was no skirmish. Neither he nor his friends nor the Kingsguard had perished that day. His sister had lived, as well. Thus, a great deal of loss had been averted.

Lord Willam Dustin was now a father. A year earlier, his wife, Lady Barbrey of House Ryswell, had birthed a hale baby girl, whom they had named Klara. Recently, Eddard had heard that Lady Barbrey was with child again. Had Willam died at the Tower of Joy, his house would have faded into oblivion. Now, due largely to Gregor Clegane's intercession, House Dustin would endure. For that same reason, Martyn Cassel now served as Winterfell's master-at-arms, and he had been around to watch as his son Jory finished growing up.

Of course, as far as the rest of the country knew, everyone else who had been at the Tower of Joy (save Howland Reed) was dead. Furthermore, Eddard was now involved in a dangerous conspiracy that – if exposed – could cost him his life. And the lives of everyone involved, including his nephew. What annoyed him was that he had been insinuated in this conspiracy partly against his will.

Gregor had assured him that the risk would be worth taking. The Mountain had contended that as long as everyone who knew the identities of Rhaegar's children did and said nothing that would compromise their safety, they would all get by without suffering any further tragedy.

It had been four years since then. The dragons were still living as exiles and the stag still laid claim to their throne.

The day would come when the wolf would have to choose between the two factions. Eddard had no doubt of that.

He would have to make a decision, no matter how much he dreaded it.

Either he would break the oath of fealty he had sworn to Robert, or he would break the promise he had sworn to Lyanna to keep her son safe.

He prayed often for a solution to this predicament that would allow him to remain true to both his friend and his family.

Such a solution may have seemed impossible. Even so, part of Eddard Stark honestly believed that such a solution was indeed possible, and if there was one person who could find one, it would be his newest vassal.

Eddard Stark had only known Gregor Clegane for four years, but the wolf lord believed he could trust the Mountain.

The man was not even born a Northman. Yet he has done more for the North and the rest of the realm than any of my bannermen have in recent history.

"Ned?" a soft voice interrupted his broodings.

Eddard turned to the entrance of the godswood. His lady wife Catelyn was standing before him, a bundle in her arms and a gentle smile on her face.

Ned Stark returned the smile and gestured for Catelyn to approach. She swiftly made her way over to her husband and sat down beside him.

The bundle turned out to be their one-year-old daughter, Sansa. She was soundly asleep.

Ned's smile remained as he reached his arm out and stroked the tuft of auburn hair on his daughter's forehead. She cooed quietly, but did not wake up.

Catelyn asked "Are you well?"

"Yes," Eddard replied, looking to his wife, "I've news from Moat Cailin."

"Has Lady Dacey given birth?" Catelyn presumed.

Eddard nodded and stated "To a son. Named Rickard."

Catelyn's smile became a smirk and she commented "Perhaps Lord Gregor is trying to carry favor with you."

"I think not," Eddard countered, "My father's name is fairly common in the North."

Catelyn then frowned a bit and murmured "Do you suppose…?"

At that, she slowly gazed down at Sansa. No other words were added to that sentence, but Eddard understood what his wife was implying.

He scoffed and assured her "Lord Gregor is not the kind of man to seek a contract between his child and the child of his liege lord, Cat. Particularly so soon after their births."

"Perhaps not," Catelyn conceded, "But he is the type to seek contracts between the children of others."

"No contracts have been created yet," Eddard reminded his wife, "The match between Robb and Lord Tyrell's daughter was merely suggested. Apart from that, your own uncle advocates the match."

"I know," Catelyn claimed, "I approve of it, as well. What truly gives me pause is why Lord Gregor recommended the match in the first place."

"His reason was that it would bring the North and the Reach together," Eddard recounted.

"Why should he care for the relationship between them?" Catelyn queried.

That is a question I'd like an answer to myself.

So far, Varys was the only person who knew that Gregor's ultimate goal was to unify all of Westeros. He had not shared it without anyone else to maintain the integrity of his plans.

Everyone else believed he was just trying to establish lasting peace throughout the Seven Kingdoms. That theory explained the actions of the Legion without Banners. But it did not explain why he had touched on the subject of betrothals between the children of the Great Houses.

Whatever his motive, Eddard had elected to put his faith in Gregor's counsel. So long as the Mountain acted honorably and in the interests of the realm, Eddard would support and listen to him.

"I cannot say," Eddard answered his wife's question, "But we can guarantee that a match between Robb and Lady Margaery would be beneficial for the North?"

"How can you be certain?" Catelyn inquired.

"Well, I married outside the North," Eddard debated happily, "Look at all the good it has done me thus far."

Catelyn's grin quickly returned, and she placed an affectionate kiss on her husband's bearded cheek. That lone remark was enough to both pacify her qualms and conclude the discussion.

Catelyn then rose back to her feet and declared "I'm going to put Sansa to bed. After that, I'll be in library. Robb and Jon wish to show me something there."

"Show you what?" Eddard asked in interest.

"They did not say," Catelyn candidly responded, "They claimed it was a surprise."

Eddard merely nodded in acknowledgement and muttered wryly "Very well. Enjoy your surprise."

"I'm certain I will," Catelyn contended, smiling again, "Those boys are always a joy to be around."

After that, she departed from the godswood.

Eddard lingered by the heart tree for another half-hour. He stayed to pray and to reflect on the letter from Moat Cailin.

Gregor Clegane was now a father. That was something he and Lord Eddard Stark had in common. Soon enough, the Mountain would know what having a child truly meant to a man.

Eddard believe fatherhood would suit Gregor well. He had already done an excellent job of ensuring the survival of other people's children. He had also ensured the happiness of those same children.

When Lyanna had entrusted him with her son, Eddard had thought to claim Jon as his own bastard. It had been Gregor Clegane who had proposed that Eddard present Jon as the product of a free union between Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne instead.

Eddard had been hesitant to use that story at first, but he had ultimately chosen to go with it.

Now, he was certain that had been the right decision. Catelyn Stark absolutely adored her nephew. She treated him no differently than Robb or Sansa. The fact that he was a bastard did not matter to her. What mattered was that he was family. For that alone, she loved and accepted Jon. She would never have loved or accepted him if he had been passed off as the stepson who resulted from an adulterous fling on her husband's part.

…

A couple days later, another of Gregor's messages reached Sunspear. Maester Caleotte brought it to Prince Doran and Princess Elia immediately. They went over the contents of the letter together in Doran's council chambers. As always, Areo Hotah stood guard over his liege lord, but said and heard nothing.

"Seventeen pounds?" Doran noted, raising an eyebrow.

"That could very well be a record," Caleotte hypothesized, "In Westeros, at least."

"Rhaenys and Aegon weighed half that," Elia recalled.

And even that was almost too much for me.

"Do you really think Oberyn was there for moral support?" Elia inquired.

"It does not sound like Prince Oberyn," Caleotte perceived.

"Oh, I disagree," Doran refuted, "Oberyn does as he likes. Based on the letters he's sent us from the moat, he and Lord Gregor have become very well-acquainted."

"That, I cannot contest," Maester Caleotte remarked, "On that note, Lady Ellaria is certainly the type to aid another woman in the birthing chamber. Seeing as she's had that experience herself."

"How fortunate for Lady Dacey that she and Oberyn were there," Doran commented.

Yes, and lucky them. They're up there protecting the country and befriending the Mountain. And we're down here… waiting. All this pointless waiting…

"Indeed; Lady Dacey appears to be doing quite well," Maester Caleotte observed, "According to this, she actually tried to get back up on her feet just hours after birthing her son."

"She must be quite robust," Elia conjectured.

"She'd have to be," Doran contended, "I imagine Lord Gregor would need and want a woman as hardy and stout as her to be his wife. And to bear his children."

Yes, he would. Elia grimaced slightly.

Ever since the Sack of King's Landing, the Mountain's name had been a highly esteemed one all throughout Dorne. Many of the Dornishmen had actually come to admire Gregor Clegane. Elia Martell in particular revered him.

At first, she thought that was merely because he had saved her and her children from Amory Lorch. What she felt was probably just a heightened sense of gratitude.

She soon discovered it was more than that. On the voyage back to Sunspear, she had bonded with Gregor. He had looked after her, Rhaenys, and Aegon as though they were family.

They had talked for much of the trip. They had shared intimate secrets. They had spoken casually on serious matters. They had reminisced on memorable events from their youth.

He had called her beautiful. Even Rhaegar had not called her that.

By the time she was back in her homeland, Elia had begun to wonder if she was developing romantic feelings for Gregor. Or if he was for her.

At the time, she hoped not. There were too many extenuating circumstances that would have obfuscated that type of relationship.

For one thing, Gregor was nine years younger than Elia, as well as two feet taller. Back then, he was only the heir to a knightly house in the Westerlands. His countrymen had just laid siege to the city which had been her late husband's home. Most of all, her children had been proclaimed deceased, so she was supposed to be in mourning. If she looked for comfort in the arms of a man so soon after losing her husband, her son, and her daughter, she would draw a tremendous amount of suspicion and unwelcomed attention. Even if that man was the one who avenged her children's murders. In addition to that, Elia was not forbidden to leave Dorne, but in the eyes of the public, she had no legitimate reason to ever want to leave it again. Plus, there was no way she would have ever abandoned Aegon, and Sunspear was the only place in Westeros where she believed her son would be out of danger.

So Elia did not act on her new feelings for the Mountain. She kept them to herself, and she parted from him as nothing more than a friend. When they went their own ways, she assumed her feelings would subside eventually.

Things had changed quite a bit since then.

The age difference did not matter as much as it had. Gregor was now a high lord in the North. Because of the Legion without Banners, tensions between the Westerlands and Dorne and the Crownlands were starting to lessen. Gregor had gone out of his way to ensure that Elia and her children were protected from those who wished harm upon them. Because of the Legion, Westeros was starting to become a better place. Elia honestly felt as though she could go almost anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms without fear of being attacked.

This made her wonder on what could have been.

Perhaps under a different set of circumstances, a match between Elia and Gregor could have been devised.

Alas, that could never happen. This was not only because Gregor was now married. There was also the matter of Elia's womb. Rhaenys had wrecked it, and Aegon had all but destroyed it. Now she would never carry another child. No matter how many assets she had to offer, a barren woman was useless in the world of political marriages.

Elia had long ago accepted the truth that there would never have been any chance that she and Gregor would be a couple in this life. She was not one to mope on lost opportunities. She embraced that knowledge without undergoing any form of denial or disbelief.

All the same, she found herself somewhat jealous of Dacey Mormont. From what she heard, the Bear Island girl had claimed the Mountain without even trying. The marriage contract between them had originally been Gregor's idea, not hers. Furthermore, this marriage had not been created simply for political advantages. Gregor Clegane and his wife were deeply enamored with each other. Now that they had a child, their union was both secure and official.

Luckily, Princess Elia had been raised better than to allow her envy to fester. She would not sulk or pout like some rejected one-time lover. She would move on.

Even if she had the opportunity to meddle in the Mountain's marriage, she would never dare to come between him and Dacey. The thought of doing such an atrocious thing disgusted her. She owed Gregor so much; the least she could do to repay him was let him have his happiness with the woman he loved.

Aside from that… Elia knew what it was like to have a husband who was more drawn to another woman than his actual wife. That was precisely what happened with her, Rhaegar, and Lyanna. Although Elia loved Lyanna just as much as Rhaegar had, she had felt somewhat ignored and unwanted by her husband after the Tourney at Harrenhal. Elia would not wish that on Dacey or any other woman.

After sitting in silence for a few seconds, Elia let out a long sigh, got up from her chair, and uttered "If there's nothing else, I'm going to check on Egg."

Doran nodded his consent, and his sister swiftly exited the chamber. Areo Hotah bowed to her as she left.

Princess Elia Martell calmly made her way to the building's nursery, where most of her nieces and nephews were supposedly gathered.

While Obara and Nymeria were in the North, the rest of the Sand Snakes were currently in that room.

Ever since she returned to Sunspear, Elia had taken a great interest in her brothers' children, particularly Oberyn's. This was for two reasons: she adored all children (especially those in her immediate family), and one of them was actually hers (but not actually his, thankfully).

When she got to the nursery, there were two guards posted at the door. They allowed their princess entrance to the room.

Inside the room, another guard was standing by the door. Like the two without, he wore the standard armor of the soldiers of House Martell. The only difference was that he wore a half-helm which covered most of his face. His mouth and nose were totally concealed, and there were only two small holes in the middle so that his eyes would see.

This man was known by many at Sunspear as Ihtos, a freerider from the western province of Dorne who had sworn his services to House Martell a few years earlier. To most, he was a very mysterious figure.

He spoke only to Prince Doran and those closest to the prince, and he never took off his half-helm; not even to sleep. The sword that hung at his side had seen years of use, and the hand that wielded it was just as deadly.

Elia was one of the few who knew Ihtos' actual identity.

"Good morrow, my princess," came the voice of Ser Arthur Dayne from behind the half-helm.

"Thank you, Ihtos," she returned the greeting.

She then turned her focus on the other occupants in the room. Her sister-by-law Mellario was sitting in a chair, nursing her youngest child, Trystane. Ever since her other son Quentyn had been sent to be fosted at Yronwood, Mellario had been quite protective of her other children. A few meters away, her daughter Arianne was dressing up her cousins Tyene and Sarella. Their game of dress-up was a rather unconventional one. Instead of elegant or elaborate gowns, Tyene wore the garments of a septa, and Sarella was clad in the robes of a maester. That may have been symbolic for the roads the two girls would take later in their lives.

In the corner of the room, a young four-year old boy was building a tower out of blocks of ironwood.

Elia slowly made her way over to the boy and waited until she had his attention. When he noticed her, he put down his blocks, toddled over to her, and hugged her, saying excitedly "Auntie!"

I'm not your aunt. I'm your mother.

How she longed to say those words. But she did not. Instead she picked up the boy and said "Hi, Egg."

This boy was known as Edgar Sand, the only male of Oberyn Martell's bastards. No one knew who his mother had been, but no one seemed to care, either. What Oberyn did in his spare time was his business.

Elia could imagine that Oberyn had gotten that from the late Lord Edgar Yronwood. That was a little surprising, considering that Oberyn had killed him in a duel. With poison, nonetheless. Hence his moniker "The Red Viper."

That infamous episode had strained relations between House Martell and House Yronwood. That was why Elia's nephew Quentyn was now being fostered by Lord Anders Yronwood. Unfortunately, Doran's decision to send his son off had also generated some friction between himself and Lady Mellario.

On the positive end of the spectrum, no one seemed interested about Edgar Sand's origins. As long as no one's curiosity got the better of them, Elia could ascertain that her boy would be safe. She could still call him "Egg" in public. But she could not tell him who his mother was.

Elia remembered a letter that had come from King's Landing several months earlier. It contained a proclamation saying that Obara and Nymeria were to be recognized as Martells. Furthermore, the rest of the Sand Snakes had the option to be legitimized as well.

So far, Tyene and Sarella showed no desire to become legitimized. Elia was glad for that. Because if all of Oberyn's daughters were legitimized, people would expect Edgar Sand to become legitimized as well.

While Elia had no disdain for bastards, she was disgusted by the idea of him being legitimized. He had no real reason to be given a name. He already had a name of his own. He was a trueborn son. He was a prince. He was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms.

And he did not even know that. Not yet. Until then, she would continue to nurture and raise him as she would have in King's Landing.

Elia held Aegon close to her chest and kissed him on the top of his head.

"Someday, sweetling, you will be king," she whispered. She spoke so quietly that only she could make out her words. "Then you'll be able to protect the realm."

Just as Lord Gregor and the Legion protect it now.

…

Hundreds of miles north of Dorne, Rhaegar Targaryen's other wife was looking after some children, as well.

These three children were a seven-year-old girl, a four-year-old girl, and a one-year-old boy.

None of them was hers. But she wished her own boy could have been among them.

There were two other women in the room. One of them was the mother of the younger girl and the boy. The other was a native of Dorne who had come north with the elder girl.

There was also a man standing against the wall. He was clad all in white armor, his helm under his left arm, his sword in its sheath attached to his belt.

They were all in the lounge of Greywater Watch.

This migratory castle had been a safe haven for Lyanna Stark for the past few years, and the people in this room had been a sort of comfort for her. Especially the older of the girls.

In the absence of her son, Lyanna had personally charged herself with the upbringing of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Before they parted ways, she had promised Elia she would raise the Dornishwoman's daughter properly, and she would never go back on her word.

Lyanna had come to love Rhaenys as her own daughter, and the wolf woman was like a second mother to the young princess. Sometimes she called her "Lya" or "Lyanna," but more often than not, she called her "Mother."

Lyanna was young enough to be Rhaenys' sister, but she enjoyed being addressed as that. She found there was definitely some form of closeness between them.

Right now, the castle was on the move. The floating island it was built on was gradually cruising throughout the bogs.

Anyone inside the castle would not have realized that they were moving. But anyone who looked or stood outside would be well-aware, as they would see that their surroundings were constantly changing.

Yet another "glamorous" voyage. Oh, well. At least it's not humid.

Greywater Watch frequently glided through the swamps of the Neck in effort to maintain the confidentiality of its whereabouts. It never stayed in any one location for more than a week at a time. In the time since Lyanna had first come to the castle, Greywater Watch had changed its position no less than 250 times.

Lyanna had become accustomed to being constantly on the move. Despite being in a vast marshland, the Neck had many exotic sights to offer, and it helped to appease her sense of adventure.

But no matter where she went, she still felt an empty place in her heart. There was a void that could only be filled by one person, but that person was always more than a hundred miles away.

Just then, there was a heavy knock at the door. Lyanna Stark looked over at it and called out "Enter!"

The door opened and Lord Howland Reed, Ser Mark Ryswell, Ethan Glover, and Theo Wull stepped inside.

Lady Jyanna Reed smiled at her husband and uttered "Hello, my love."

Howland stopped to kiss his wife's lips and the heads of his daughter Meera and his son Jojen. He also gave a nod of acknowledgment to Lady Ashara Dayne, who returned the kind gesture thusly. Howland then approached Lyanna, bowed his head, and said "My princess."

Princess.

Even after five years, she had not become accustomed to that title. In spite of the fact that all the people around her addressed her as such every single day. But, of course, she had married a prince, so her official status in the world had risen accordingly. All the same, it sounded queer to her.

"I've news to share," Lord Howland pronounced, holding a rolled up piece of parchment in his right hand. It was marked with the seal of the Northern branch of House Clegane.

None of the crannogmen had joined the Legion without Banners. But some of the other Northmen – primarily the Flints of Flint's Fingers – knew how to track down Greywater Watch throughout the Neck. As it happened, Robin Flint and some of his knights were Legionnaires. A few of them were expert horseback riders, as well. This was fortunate; riders were the only means one could use to communicate with Greywater Watch.

"Just before we got underway, we encountered a rider," Ethan Glover announced, pointing out the parchment in Lord Howland's hand, "It's a message from Moat Cailin."

Howland Reed stepped up to Lyanna and held out the letter, saying "We believe you are its intended recipient, Princess."

Lyanna raised an eyebrow and tentatively took the letter. She enquired "Why do you think that, my lord?"

"Intuition, I suppose," Theo Wull conjectured.

"That, and the letter is addressed to 'The lodger at Greywater Watch,'" Mark Ryswell slyly remarked.

Lyanna chuckled at that blunt statement and broke the seal on the letter. Then she unrolled it and began to examine its contents.

"What does it say, my princess?" Ser Oswell Whent inquired from his place against the wall.

"I'll read it aloud," Lyanna declared.

So she did. Every person present listened on in great interest. Except Meera and Jojen. They were too young to understand, and they were still engrossed with their toys. Everyone else was quite interested in learning of the contents of the letter, though.

When Lyanna was finished divulging the information in the letter, Rhaenys was the first to speak. Balerion was sitting in her lap. He had grown into a strong tomcat in four years. His mistress scratched him behind the ears, giggled, and said "So Uncle Gregor's a papa now?"

Rhaenys had only been three when she first met Gregor Clegane, but she vividly remembered every moment of that event. She could still recall the sensation of Amory Lorch pulling her out from under her father's bed, the sheer terror she had felt when Ser Amory rose his blade over his head, and the immense relief that had come afterwards when Gregor had gutted Amory like the pig he was.

On the trip back to Dorne, she had even taken to calling him "Uncle Greg" (Or "Gweg"). She continued to refer to him as that to this day.

Rhaenys was old and wise enough to know that Gregor Clegane was not really a sibling to either of her parents. Even so, she still called him "Uncle" out of habit.

To justify that, she had once pointed out that Gregor and her real uncle Oberyn were good friends (if the infrequent messages Greywater Watch received from Moat Cailin were any indication). In a way, they were almost like brothers. So, by that same logic, Gregor technically was a kind of uncle to Rhaenys. If not by blood, then he was in spirit.

Lyanna had been impressed by her stepdaughter's argument. It was a very prudent observation for Rhaenys to make at such a young age. Then again, in Greywater Watch, many people seemed wise beyond their years.

"Lady Dacey produced a seventeen-pound babe and wanted to leave the birthing chamber straight after?" Ashara Dayne asked rhetorically, clearly dumbfounded, "I'm amazed she even had the strength to remain conscious."

"The Mormonts are a tenacious lot, my lady," Ethan Glover disclosed, "Their strength and height give them great resilience, as well."

"Still, this is the first time one of them has had a child with a Clegane," Mark Ryswell remarked, "I'm not surprised the child was born so large. Nor am I surprised that Lady Dacey and her boy survived the ordeal. Only a Northwoman could carry such a child to terms."

"And one has," Theo Wull murmured, "Now the giants are returning to Westeros."

Had anyone else made that remark, it would have been viewed as a jape or a jest. But Theo Wull was from one of the mountain clans of the North. While his people were not nearly as barbaric and uncivilized as the clans from the Vale, they were more open to believing in the unnatural than the lords and ladies of Westeros.

Theo Wull had always been a firm believer in the unnatural. When Lyanna had told him and the others about the prophecy of the Three-Headed Dragon, he had been the first one to trust the validity of the prophecy. Howland Reed, Jyanna Reed, and Ashara Dayne had gradually decided to put their faith in it, as well. Mark Ryswell, Ethan Glover, and Oswell Whent were still quite skeptical, but regardless of how true the prophecy turned out to be, they were determined to remain with Lyanna and protect her for as long as she would have them.

"Pray tell, Buckets," Ethan Glover commented drily, "What else is returning? The Others?"

Mark Ryswell was the only one to laugh. Lyanna glared at Brandon Stark's former squire and mumbled "That could very well be the case. Should I repeat the prophecy to you, Ethan?"

"You needn't bother, Princess," Ethan assured her. He clearly did not wish to bring the Long Night into discussion again.

Mark Ryswell found this an ideal moment to return to the original subject of the conversation. He stated jokingly "It's rather fortunate that the Mountain did not name his son Rodrik. Otherwise he and Lord Forrester would have had more in common than their own first names."

"Yes, two Northern lords named Gregor having two heirs named Rodrik would have made a mess," Jyanna Reed concurred with a smirk.

"I must admire his actual choice of name," Howland Reed thought aloud.

Lyanna and a few others nodded in agreement.

"Wasn't your lord father a Rickard, Princess?" Ashara queried.

"He was, Ash," the wolf woman affirmed.

"Could that be why Lord Gregor named his son so?" the Dornishwoman supposed.

"I don't think that would be the only reason," Lyanna debated, "I believe there's much more to it than that."

"How so, Your Grace?" Oswell Whent questioned.

Lyanna explained "That name is one of the few that is entirely indigenous to the North. By giving his heir that name, I believe Gregor Clegane aims to prove that he officially regards himself and those of his bloodline as Northmen. He is publically declaring the North as his new place in the world. I think it's commendable of him."

"If that is indeed his reason, then I quite agree," Howland Reed stated.

"Well, how about that?" Mark Ryswell cockily uttered, "Gregor Clegane is a Westerlander by birth. Now he's living in the North as a Northman with a Northern wife and a Northern child."

"Must be little of the Westerlands left in him," Ethan Glover commented.

"Well, I'm partly inclined to think of him as a Northerner through and through," Howland Reed remarked, "But we cannot make any presumptions. We'll have to wait and see if he can raise his child in the fashion of the North."

At least he has the opportunity to raise his own child.

For every day since Lyanna Stark and her company left the Tower of Joy, her son had been the primary focus of her thoughts.

Eddard wrote to her as often as he deemed safe to. From her brother's missives, Lyanna learned that Jon was doing very well in Winterfell.

Lyanna never doubted that Ned would be a good father figure to Jon. What really troubled her was how her sister-by-law would treat him.

To her vast relief, her worries were unwarranted. Catelyn Stark was very loving and caring towards her nephew. She was every bit the mother figure Lyanna would have hoped to have been.

Like Eddard, Lyanna knew Gregor Clegane was to thank for that. He had been the one to propose the false account of how Jon had come into the world. It was their good fortune that the story that he was Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne's bastard son was both believable and consistent.

Neither Lyanna nor Eddard enjoyed tarnishing their late elder brother's memory so, but if it meant ensuring Jon's survivial, they could live with that lie.

They were lucky that Ashara had been so willing to go along with that story, as well.

At first, Lyanna wondered why it was necessary for Ashara's "suicide" to be part of it. Then Ashara had given her a simple but logical reason: Jon would not be compelled to seek his alleged birth mother out if she was presumed dead. Even if she travelled across the Narrow Sea to Essos, he might still go after her when he came of age.

So it actually had been necessary for Ashara to fake her death. In addition to that, anything other than a suicide would have drawn unwelcome attention.

Even though Jon would have excellent parenting, she still worried for his safety.

Ser Gerold Hightower had come to the North with Eddard and his bannermen after the Rebellion. He had new clothes, a new haircut, and a new name: Ser Marvyn of the Reach. As for his background, he was a travelling knight who had chosen to come north in the aftermath of Robert's Rebellion. He had elected to serve the Stars of Winterfell as a symbol of goodwill between his homeland and the North. Such a benign gesture was very much needed after Lord Eddard had defeated Lord Mace at Storm's End. So it was easy enough to buy.

In any case, Ser Gerold would be able to guard Jon without compromising himself or the boy. Lyanna knew the Reachman would be capable of protecting her son. He had been the Lord Commander of Aerys' Kingsguard, and he had kept her safe in Dorne for weeks.

But even with all her anxieties put to rest, Lyanna was not content with the knowledge that her son was loved and sheltered. She would have given anything just to hold her son in her own arms.

She never expressed that desire to any other person vocally, as she did not wish to make anyone else share in her misery.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Ashara Dayne had caught on to Lyanna's unhappiness. As someone who had lost her own child at birth, she knew the look of a grieving mother all too well.

Lyanna had that very look right then.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Ashara asked in concern.

Lyanna softly nodded her head, but her countenance suggested she wished to shake it instead.

"Can we have a moment?" Ashara requested of the others.

The lounge was promptly cleared of everyone except the Dornishwoman and the wolf woman. Once they were alone, Ashara sat down next to the younger woman and assumed "Jon?"

Lyanna merely nodded her head and confirmed "Always Jon."

A tear had begun to form at the corner of her eye.

Ashara swiftly reached out to Lyanna and pulled her into an embrace, which the other female openly accepted. That was one thing the Northwoman loved about the Dornishwoman; she was always so sympathetic to the anguish of others. That must have been one of the things that attracted Brandon to her in the first place.

This was one instance where her sympathetic nature would really come through.

She told Lyanna hopefully "I have been doing some thinking about your situation. Some very deep thinking. I believe there may be a way to bring you and your son together."

That immediately grabbed the wolf woman's attention. She looked the older woman in the eye and asked eagerly "What?"

Ashara revealed "Well, I have an idea. It is a risky one, but if executed properly, it could work. It could reunite you with Jon without posing any threat to either of you."

"I'm listening," Lyanna Stark proclaimed, leaning in closer.

…

One of the last two messages was sent by raven to King's Landing.

As king of Westeros, Robert Baratheon had a right to know that the Master of Order on the small council now had an heir.

Of the five people Gregor had written, Robert had the most positive reaction to the message. He had sent a follow-up letter back almost immediately, expressing his joy for the arrival of Gregor and Dacey's firstborn child. He had also given Rickard Clegane his royal blessing.

By contrast, the receiver of the final message had the most negative reaction. But considering who it was, that was hardly shocking.

The last letter had been delivered by raven to Casterly Rock.

Even though Gregor had been cut off from the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister seemed to have developed a keen interest in the Mountain's affairs. As such, Lord Tywin would have taken it as a slight if he was not given the news of Rickard's birth (or any similar type of news) straightaway. Gregor was well-aware of that.

While he personally cared little for the lion lord's feelings (if he actually had any), he knew that any wrong he had done Tywin would reflect badly on his family in the Westerlands. Plus, he needed to maintain good relations with the Westerlands so that its residents would continue to serve in the Leigon without Banners. So for the time being, Gregor strove to avoid giving Tywin any more reasons to dislike him or suspect him of foul play.

Even with all that said, Tywin Lannister was still not pleased by the news of how Gregor Clegane had fathered a son.

The raven carrying the message had arrived in the middle of the afternoon. After the letter was brought to Lord Tywin, he and his brother Kevan reviewed it together in the lord's solar.

In those days, Kevan was the only person Tywin could fully trust. Their brother Tygett had already died, their brother Gerion was serving in the Legion without Banners, and their sister Genna had a Frey husband. For those reasons, Kevan was the only one of Tywin's siblings that he could turn to for reliable advice.

After they thoroughly read the letter, the two men sat in awkward silence for a couple minutes

Kevan was the one who broke it. "I suppose we should write to Lord Gregor and congratulate him for siring his first son."

"The man should be congratulated for far more than just that," Tywin debated, "But I will not be the one to congratulate him."

Nor shall I ever be.

"I wouldn't expect you to be, Tywin," Kevan bluntly remarked.

"And why is that?" Tywin asked, genuinely interested.

"Clearly, this news doesn't please you," Kevan observed, "Nothing the Mountain has done in the last four years has pleased you."

"Perhaps not," Tywin admitted, "If so, the fault is his own."

"I will agree some of the fault is his," Kevan countered, "But you should share some of it. You're the one who allowed this… grudge to endure."

How quickly he rises to defend the Mountain. Against his own brother.

"Kevan, are arguing for Gregor Clegane over me?" Tywin mumbled, accusation evident in his voice.

"No, I'd never do that," Kevan reassured his elder brother, "I'm merely making a point. Amory Lorch was just one knight. He was easily replaceable. He has been replaced. Why can you not forgive the Mountain for killing him?"

"This is not about Amory Lorch," Tywin apprised his younger brother, "I cared nothing for him. He would have been executed or sent to the Wall for what he did in any case. It was also fortunate that Clegane stopped him before he could slay Princess Elia. He spared us a great amount of political turmoil with Dorne."

"Then why does the fact that he killed Ser Amory continue to upset you?" Kevan said inquisitively.

Tywin looked his brother in the eye and responded with "Because he should not have been anywhere near Amory Lorch during the Sack of King's Landing."

Now Kevan was baffled. "What do you mean?"

"I never told Clegane or anyone else about Lorch's assignment," Tywin revealed, "Lorch alone knew that I had sent him after Prince Rhaegar's wife and children. I know that because he was not the type to share his special orders with others, and I gave him the assignment when he and I were alone in the lords' tent."

Kevan thought on that for a moment, and he theorized "Could it be possible Gregor overheard your conversation with Lorch?"

"Unless he had the hearing of an actual lion, I'm certain he did not eavesdrop on us," Tywin refuted, "No, he must have known of Lorch's task through some other means. If he did not know, he would have stayed out in the city until we had taken it. I had arranged beforehand for a number of our units to infiltrate and seize the Red Keep, but the Mountain was not one of the intended units."

Kevan lightly nodded his head in acknowledgment of those statements, and he muttered quietly "So what could he have been doing in there? Have you any theory as to why?"

"I have considered many," Tywin disclosed, "Most of them, I have rejected. But there is one that I believe is both conceivable and feasible."

"What might that be?" Kevan questioned curiously.

Tywin paused for a few seconds. He gazed around the room, as though he was checking for holes or openings in the walls or doors. After he was wholly certain no one was listening, Tywin shared his hypothesis with his brother.

He told him: "Gregor Clegane must possess a secret knowledge."

Kevan was still bewildered. "A secret knowledge of what?"

"The world at large," Kevan clarified, "Think on all he has done. He stopped Amory Lorch just in time to save Princess Elia, but too late to save her children. He encountered Lord Eddard Stark at the Tower of Joy right when Stark and his men engaged Aerys' Kingsguard in battle. Through simple words, he convinced Robert Baratheon to set aside his feelings for Lady Lyanna Stark; something the King's brothers and closest friends could never do. He formed the largest and most diverse fighting force in the Seven Kingdoms, and he knew how to appeal to all of his potential recruits. He has created and produced two new compounds which could revolutionize modern architecture. He married a woman from one of House Stark's most loyal vassals; he wed her after only knowing her a few months. Most of all… he and that woman now have a son together."

Kevan reflected carefully on everything Tywin just told him. He was being to comprehend the argument his brother was making.

"So you see, Kevan; my scorn for the Mountain is not the result of a simple grudge," Tywin illuminated. "Nor is it due to anything the Mountain has done wrong. Instead, it is the result of everything he has done right."

He has done too much right. Under certain circumstances, that can be just as undesirable as too much wrong.

Once more, the two eldest sons of Tytos Lannister sat together in quietness. Finally, Kevan "I cannot blame you for being wary, Tywin. But you should give the Mountain some credit. He has brought some measure of unity to Westeros. Never in the history of the Seven Kingdoms have Westerlords, Northmen, Valemen, Dornishmen, Riverlords, Reachmen, Crownlords, Stormlords, and Ironborn fought together for the good of the realm."

"The Night's Watch," Tywin quickly countered.

Kevan smirked and claimed "That is a different scenario entirely. Most who take the black do so because their only alternative is to lose their freedom, their hands, their cocks, or their heads. Every member of the Legion without Banners joined that organization by their own volition. Furthermore, men and women are allowed entrance, and trueborn children and baseborn children are treated the same. It's only unappealing aspect is its location in the North. But winter has touched all of Westeros, so I very much doubt the Legionnaires feel much colder than we do just now."

Tywin raised an eyebrow and mumbled scathingly "If you are so impressed by the Legion without Banners, Kevan, why do you not enlist?"

"I will not lie to you; I have been tempted to do so," Kevan revealed, "But I am certain Dorna and Lancel would not be comfortable in the North. I will not force them to go there, and I cannot leave them behind, either. It is for their sakes that I remain here."

As well as mine, I'm sure.

Kevan then grinned lightly and muttered "While we're on this topic, Tyrion mentioned to me the other day that he was thinking of joining the Legion when he is older."

Tywin was a little stunned at first, but then he rolled his eyes and murmured "Of course he would thought that. He'll think anything, even that which goes beyond the borders of sanity."

Kevan frowned and remarked "Tywin, you've told me yourself that you have no intention of letting Tyrion inherit the Rock."

"Indeed, I do not," Tywin confirmed flatly.

"Then why does the concept of him joining the Legion disagree with you?" Kevan inquired.

"The Legion has already absorbed our little brother," Tywin pointed out, "From the letters Gerion has sent us, he has become one of the company's top officers. Worse yet, he and the Mountain have become fast friends. And Gerion possesses little more than average intelligence. Tyrion, for all his flaws, is very intelligent and cunning. Think of what he could do for the Legion without Banners. It could mean good things for a great many people. But not good things for everyone. Particularly those that have had quarrels with both Tyrion and the Mountain."

Once more, Kevan seemed stunned by his brother's words. "You sound as though Lord Gregor is out to get us."

"I assure you I do not believe he is," Tywin pronounced, "But I'm concerned."

"Concerned about what?" Kevan asked.

Tywin elucidated "The Cleganes in the North are becoming too powerful. Thousands of people from all over Westeros follow Gregor Clegane. They never question his orders or his competence. The fact that he was just the son of a landed knight five years ago matters nothing to them. As long as he maintains his values, he'll never lose the loyalty of his soldiers. Moreover, he's respected throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They praise his name and his deeds everywhere, especially in the North. He has all but become a Northman himself, now that he has taken a Northern bride and fathered a Northern child."

"Your concern is not unfounded," Kevan declared, "But in a way, it is still the result of your own hasty actions, Tywin. Do you ever wonder if perhaps you should not have released Gregor Clegane from his right to Clegane's Keep?"

"I wonder that often," Tywin expounded, "But it is no use lamenting on what is done and cannot be undone. Even though he forfeited his claim to his father's lands, the Mountain still cares very deeply for the family here in the Westerlands."

"If you're so anxious about the possibility that he will one day move against us, you could always use them to ensure his passivity," Kevan proposed.

"Oh, I intend to," Tywin asserted, "Why do you think I took Sandor Clegane on as my squire? The boy is very qualified and capable, but his main function is to serve as leverage against his brother."

"That does not surprise me," Kevan murmured frankly, "But as I'm sure you know, Sandor cannot remain your squire forever."

"Of course I know that," Tywin avowed, "To our good fortune, plenty more can be done to guarantee House Clegane's cooperation."

"Is that why you've entertained the idea of raising the Clegane's Keep Cleganes to lordly status?" Kevan presumed.

"It is," Tywin replied, "I have not decided whether or not to go through with that arrangement. I do know that Ser Tarrence and Lady Daliah will be extremely grateful for the honor, and that kind of gratitude is not easily earned or lost."

"True, but it would still not be enough to bind the Cleganes to House Lannister," Kevan noted. He rubbed his chin and contended "Perhaps you could arrange a marriage between Sandor and a member of one of the chief noble houses in the Westerlands."

"That might not be an option," Tywin debated, "I have heard rumors that there could soon be a marriage contract between Sandor Clegane and Oberyn Martell's eldest daughter."

"I thought Prince Oberyn only had bastards," Kevan recalled.

"Until recently, he did," Tywin disclosed, "A number of months ago, the King issued a decree, legitimizing Obara and Nymeria Sand. Now, both of them are as suitable for marriage as any other highborn lady in Westeros."

"Intriguing," Kevan commented, "But since no betrothals have been announced just yet, we still have time to intervene and propose a contract of our own design to Sandor's family."

"No," Tywin refuted, "A marriage between Sandor Clegane and Obara Martell would mean excellent things for relations between the Westerlands and Dorne. Even I would not dare to meddle in that affair."

"Fair enough," Kevan conceded, "So Sandor Clegane's days as a hostage are limited."

"Quite so," Tywin stated, "But Ellyn Clegane might still be useful in that respect."

Kevan did not appear to find that proposal a favorable one. He shrugged somewhat dismissively and muttered "We might find some work for her here at Casterly Rock. She could serve as a handmaiden to Genna or Dorna for a few years. But once she flowers, her parents will wish to marry her off."

"I do not believe her parents have any prospective matches for her just yet," Tywin supposed, "We have time to present them with a few of our own."

"Whom do you have in mind?" Kevan asked in interest.

Tywin did not reply right away. He would have to think on this matter for a while.

No matter who he recommended for Ellyn Clegane, this man would not be a resident of Casterly Rock. That could be a problem. In his mind, the closer Ellyn was to Casterly Rock (and the longer she was there), the more valuable she would be as a political hostage. If he could somehow get her to remain at Casterly Rock indefinitely, his control over the Cleganes would be reasonably failsafe.

But how could he accomplish that?

They were interrupted by a light tapping sound against the door to the solar.

Tywin turned towards the door and shouted "Come in!"

The door swung open and in came a short boy with short blond hair, stunted legs, and a pair of mismatched eyes. In his hand he held a rolled-up piece of parchment. He waved the parchment in the air and walked towards the desk quickly. He called out gleefully "Father! Uncle Kevan!"

"What is it, Tyrion?" Kevan questioned his nephew patiently. Tywin just grimaced, as he always did when his youngest child was nearby.

"A letter just arrived from Moat Cailin," the short boy announced excitedly, "It's from Uncle Gerion."

Kevan smiled at that and pulled up another chair. He gestured for Tyrion to sit down. The dwarf climbed onto the chair. He did not move gracefully, but at least he sat in a dignified manner.

Normally, Tywin Lannister would have been appalled by anything Tyrion did, regardless of his intentions. On any other day, he would have been annoyed and cross for interrupting their conversation.

This time, however, when he observed his son's actions, a thought passed through the lion lord's mind. A shrewd but conniving thought.

Could it be? Could this actually be what could…?

For the first time ever, Tywin Lannister smiled at his youngest child. Tyrion was taken aback when he saw his father grin at him, and he tentatively returned the smile back.

But the smile was not out of love or affection. It was a rather wicked smile, if truths be told.

Tywin had this smile because when he saw Tyrion, he knew precisely what he could do to bring Ellyn Clegane to Casterly Rock. And keep her there.

I may have found the perfect match…