Chapter 53

Packing had been easier than he expected. Edric wasn't the type to keep much around; sword, dagger, armor and some simple clothes was about it. It always did pay to travel light in the middle of a war. One never knew when they'd have to move quickly.

He wasn't stupid. He knew his plan was a risky one, possibly even suicidal. Volunteering to be captured and go into a prison? It had to be a first, surely. There were at least a hundred things that could go wrong, and more likely over a thousand. The Lannister garrison might find out who he is and his cover might be blown. They might figure out that he wasn't a Tully soldier and instead belonged to the Baratheon army. Or they might just decide to torturn him to death for fun; especially if the Mountain was present there.

Bit late to be having second thoughts now, isn't it Ed? He thought to himself. He had already more or less confirmed the plan to Steffon, as hurried as said plan was. He'd put a bit more thought into it than he might with his actions on the battlefield. Still, by his own admission, that didn't make it a good plan, which made it even more shocking that Steffon had approved the plan in the first place. Maybe the news about Robb had made him desperate, or perhaps Steffon really did care for the people held inside Harrenhal.

Gods, he had a lot of unanswered questions.

"Too late to abandon it now." He mumbled. He'd committed to a plan and had to see it through. That's what Penrose had always told him to do. Gods, he could've used the old man's advice. What would he have said? "Probably would've called you a fucking idiot." he chuckled slightly to himself. The old man probably would've, before making sure he was absolutely ready.

But he couldn't ask the old man anything. Ser Cortnay was overseeing their defenses in the Stormlands. Steffon had ordered a militia created to keep the roads clear and keep the army's logistics sound. Edric chuckled again. Steffon was right at home with his maps and armies, planning moves and countermoves, trying to outwit his grandfather. It was a shame his brother had to forge his leadership in war; he would've made an excellent peacetime leader.

"You are leaving with them, Edric?" Mira asked. Must've walked in without even rustling the tent flap.

He nodded. "Going with them for a short distance. As far as Stoney Sept, then I'm splitting off from them and going to Harrenhal." He said, turning around. He could see Mira's features crease with worry.

"Harrenhal? Why?"

"We've been getting reports of what's been happening there." Edric replied. "All sorts of atrocities, but we don't know what's real and what's not, so I've volunteered to go in and find out what's happening, develop an attack plan, and get out."

"You're taking a grave risk, you know that, right?" Mira asked. "I'm not comfortable with you occupying the same space as the Mountain." Her hands were knotted together, fidgeting anxiously.

Edric stepped forward, taking her hands in his. "Neither am I, Mira. But I have to do this. I need to. If Harrenhal is as horrible as rumors say, the people need to know. It'll make winning this damned war all the more easy."

Mira sighed. Hopefully she was beginning to get the message that Edric's mind was made up. "A-alright." She said, "I know I won't be able to dissuade you."

Edric smiled and took her hands in his, looking into her eyes. "Steffon's working on some sort of settlement with the Tyrells. Whether that involves you going back to Lady Margery, I don't know. What I do know is that this is going to be a long assignment."

"I understand." Mira nodded. The two kissed. It was gentle, not like the night of Steffon's nameday, but sweet and kind. When she pulled back, Mira pulled something off one of her fingers. A ring. "I… I want you to have this." She placed it in his palm.

Edric studied it a bit more closely. It wasn't elaborate by any stretch of the imagination; a simple iron ring with the Forrester sigil engraved on it. However, even the simplicity of it seemed to match Mira's nature. A Northern girl with simple tastes, more than a little out of place in a part of the Known World obsessed with decorations and embellishment.

"My father gave it to me when I departed for Highgarden" Mira explained. "He said I was to keep it, as a reminder of the family."

"I thought you would've had something made from ironwood?" Edric asked. Gods, they could do with some ironwood shields down here…

"I do." She nodded. "But I want you to keep this with you. As a promise that I'll see you when this is all over."

Edric looked up at her again. "I… Mira, I can't accept this."

"Please…" Mira pleaded, folding her hands over Edric's, keeping the ring firmly in the center of his palm. "Keep it. You can return it to me when the war is over. Promise me."

Edric looked back up at her again. She really was pleading with him to take the ring. He'd have to get some sort of pocket sewn into his trousers so the soldiers at Highgarden didn't loot it from him the second he got there, but he was certain he could figure something out.

"Alright… I promise. And I'll give it back when this is all over." He nodded. Not an easy promise to make, but one he figured had to be made nonetheless. Mira reached up and kissed Edric deeply, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly. He was so engrossed, he didn't notice Steffon opening the flap to his tent.

"Edric, are you all set to… oh." Steffon stopped mid sentence before clearing his throat, causing Edric and Mira to separate and turn red as ripe tomatoes. Steffon, however, only smiled.

"Right, er, I'll… I'll be there…" Edric said, giving Mira one last look before making his way out of the tent, only for Steffon to stop him before he could.

"Do you love my brother, Lady Forrester?" He asked.

"Your… your grace?"

"Do you love Edric?" Steffon asked again.

"I… yes, Your Grace. He is honourable, brave, caring, and… I've grown to love him." Edric felt his heart swell with pride at the young lady's words. "I understand that he is a bastard, but–"

"I understand." Steffon said, putting a comforting hand on Mira's shoulder. "When this war is over, Edric will no longer be a Storm. He'll be a Baratheon of Storm's End."

Mira smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, my king, er, Steffon. Please, take care."

Steffon nodded and left the tent with Edric in tow.

"Thank you, Steffon." Edric said. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"Think nothing of it, Edric. I could go to say that an alliance with the Forresters would be invaluable to the Stormlands thanks to their supplies of Ironwood, but the truth is… I just want you and Mira to be happy. I've suspected there was an unspoken secret between you two for a while. As did Arya."

Edric chuckled, trying his best to hide his blush.

"I hear you're planning to climb the wall with Tormund's group."

To hear Val's voice caught Gendry slightly off-guard; he was trying to keep his sword in decent shape. Up here, getting a hold of good repair kits was not really possible, and the tools he was using were of a far worse quality. Still, it was better than nothing, he supposed. He turned to look at Val, radiant as ever.

"Yeah, I am. Stuck my hand up when they asked for volunteers. I think it got me a few less death threats today." he laughed and shook his head. Either that, or the threats had become so elaborate that he couldn't identify them as threats anymore.

Val sat down next to him. "And if they ask you to kill? Kill your own countrymen?" She asked. Gendry stayed silent for a moment. It was a hard question, even for a genuine defector. He could count the kills he had so far on one hand, so asking him if he was ready to kill people he shared a country with was . . . well, he didn't have an answer for that either.

"I won't kill anyone who doesn't try to kill me." He said resolutely. "If someone's not swinging a sword or shooting an arrow at me, then how can I justify killing them?"

Val just nodded. "An admirable stance, albeit not like to win you any friends around here." She turned to him. "We just want to get south of the Wall Gendry. You know what's coming, and the Free Folk won't be safe unless we're behind it."

"Val, are you . . . are you telling me that if the Night's Watch just let you through, you wouldn't fight?"

"Mance isn't some warmonger, Gendry." She smiled, though whether it was genuine or not, Gendry couldn't tell. "He just wants to get the Free Folk south of the Wall before winter gets here and leaves us all to die."

Gendry had to think about that for a second. Growing up, he'd heard pretty much every tale under the sun about the Wildlings. How they were complete savages who did nothing but plot the downfall of the rest of the continent. Given what he'd seen, almost all those stories were untrue. They were just trying to survive, a lot like the poor folk in Flea Bottom like him.

"Sounds better than half the nobles where I come from." Gendry laughed slightly, but without humour.

"That's the second time you brought that up." Val replied, cocking her head to the side. "We thought all you southerners were rich."

Again, Gendry laughed. "We definitely are not all rich." He set down his sword and looked at her more closely. Val was pretty, that was beyond doubt. In another life, he might've tried talking to her more earnestly, especially if she grew up in Flea Bottom. "A lot of us are a bit like you. Just trying to make it through the day."

Val nodded. "But you didn't grow up here."

"You're right on that." Gendry replied. "Flea Bottom's the arse-end of the world though. I mean . . . one of things we used to eat was a Bowl of Brown."

Val's nose turned up at that. "Sounds awful."

"It was." Gendry nodded. "We used to pretend it had chicken in it . . . we knew it wasn't." He continued. Really, Gendry wasn't interested in elaborating any further. He had tried to avoid those dreaded bowls where possible, but a starving boy couldn;t exactly be picky about what he ate. That said Gendry had a policy of avoiding the more questionable pot-shops who would take meat from anywhere, and he'd heard enough rumors about that.

"I'll make sure to stay away from them then." Val said, in a slightly scared tone that Gendry hadn't heard before.

"Gendry!" Came a shout from Ygritte. "We're movin' now! Don't want to get left behind, do you?"

"Yeah, I'm coming!" Gendry called.

"Gendry," Val said as he stood up.

"Yeah, Val?"

"Don't die, okay?"

Gendry smiled. "I'll try not to fall off the Wall."

Finally, it was time to leave. Waldron had dragged his heels predictably in getting the pack mule for Steffon, but the Frey had finally managed to get his arse moving and loaded Steffon's armour up for the journey. Well, part of it anyway. He still wore the cuirass and other parts.

Steffon had left instructions with Stannis on what to pursue in the war next. A direct invasion of the Reach was still far too hazardous due to the numbers and logistics involved, as was an assault on King's Landing. Instead, the objective was to target the Roseroad and cut the supply line from the Reach to King's Landing.

I'd say Steffon's rubbing off on me, she thought. She was starting to catch on to some of the wider strategies that he was using to keep the Lannisters on the back foot.

If the war was going to be won, she'd have to take an interest in this at some point, she realised. She was to be the Queen if they won the war, and she was determined not to be simply some symbolic addition for the purpose of aligning the North with Steffon. She was going to actively aid Steffon whenever he needed it.

Of course, right now they had more pressing matters.

Looking back, she really should've told Steffon as soon as she heard the news of what her brother had done. How could Robb be so stupid? Bedding a girl he'd fallen in love with and then choosing to marry her despite already being promised to one of Walder Frey's daughters? Okay, she could understand the motivations for marrying the girl; her honour needed to be preserved, of course, but why did he have to sleep with her in the first place?!

Still, it couldn't be helped now. She'd held off on telling Steffon the news while he recovered, and somehow he hadn't flown into a rage when she had told him. She supposed that was a good sign. Steffon being Steffon, he was likely thinking over every potential outcome that might result from the whole thing. Being prepared was the easiest way to victory, she was slowly learning. Hopefully that would mean that Steffon wouldn't fly into a rage the second he and Robb met to discuss how to work themselves out of the situation her brother had put them in, though it was a bit of a vain hope; Steffon had that Baratheon rage bubbling under the surface, and Robb was too prideful to admit what he'd done was wrong.

Still, she hoped that they wouldn't come to blows when they met. She didn't want to have to pull them apart like they were children fighting over the last sweet on the table. Though, from what her mother had told her about Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, would do it without hesitation. Regardless, she could easily see the situation escalating to an argument and a fistfight unless someone pre-emptively talked them down, which is how she found herself talking with Steffon about it as they mounted their horses.

"Robb's got too much pride to admit he's wrong." She provided.

"Then it's madness. Madness and stupidity." Steffon replied simply. "His pride could be the death of us all."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Don't be so bloody dramatic, you dolt. Let me try to talk to him first when we get to Riverrun; who in Seven Hells knows what you're going to do when you see him?" She asked rhetorically, prompting a slightly hurt look from Steffon.

"Arya, I-"

"Steffon, I've seen you lose your temper before. It's not a pretty sight and something usually ends up broken. You're just as angry as your father, just better at hiding it."

"I am nothing like him, Arya."

"Well, you're not exactly like him, but you still have that anger you Baratheons are famous for. You're just better at hiding it or letting it out in a place where you can't hurt others. I'm just worried what you'll end up doing around Robb."

Steffon opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. Had he realised that she was right? There was no possible way he could risk a physical fight with his most powerful vassal, which would likely have the effect of damaging the alliance even if they won the war.

"Your Grace?" A soldier said. "Everyone's mounted."

"Good, then we move out!" Steffon ordered, signalling them with his hand.

Arya settled into the saddle for the long ride to the Riverlands.