43

Chapter 43 The Moving Pieces

Monford Velaryon

Monford Velaryon stood at the railings of his brother's ship, the Sea Snake, as the docks of Pentos neared with every passing moment. Thoughts of what was to come plagued the Master of Driftmark as he continued to wonder about the changes that had overcome his world so suddenly.

In the aftermath of the...whatever had happened, the entire world had changed. The people of Driftmark and High Tide had been nigh untouched by the magic of that night. A single servant, ignored and dismissed for raving about war and magic. The maester had claimed madness or something, Monford hadn't paid it any attention, and life had continued without a second thought.

Then a ship of the Royal fleet had made anchor at High Tide. It hadn't been sent by that damned Stannis Baratheon or his lowborn knight.

The Captain had deserted.

The Captain had been an old Targaryen loyalist he'd known since the days of Aerys and the old Lord Velaryon. The Captain had come to him with stories of war and magic. He'd nearly imprisoned him for treason despite his own distaste at the irony of a Velaryon arresting anyone for treason against the Baratheons.

He'd stayed his hand when, the captain said that more than half the Royal Fleet had also deserted Stannis Baratheon. As much as Monford loathed the grim bastard, Stannis wasn't someone any sane man would cross without a great reason. Stannis was a hard man that had broken the Ironborn on the open seas, you crossed him at your own peril.

The Captain's tale had then taken an insane turn.

It was better to say, insanities upon insanities; Robert's death, the War of Five Kings, the madness that had consumed Stannis Baratheon at the end, with his final unspeakable act- which was the reason behind the Captain's desertion, and then...

Then he'd spoken of Daenerys Targaryen and Dragons. Actual dragons not mad Targaryens thinking themselves dragons.

Real fire breathing, flying dragons...

A number of days had passed in thought and talk with the Captain. With Monford's bastard brother, Aurane Waters. With his wife, his maester and a number of his advisers.

Ravens arrived from Dragonstone asking for reinforcement, not with Stannis's signature and stamp, but signed by the maester. Then Ravens from King's Landing summoning them to war with the Lannisters.

Monford took note of them all and then just ignored them all.

Other ships from the Royal Fleet came to High Tide and Driftmark, with old loyalties, they came and joined them. Most came with tales of death and Wildfire, a repulsed invasion on King's Landing in another life. The Imp's masterful trap and the, what was for all intents and purposes, was Stannis's defeat at the Imp's hands.

But that was more believable than the true insanity that came from one terrified captain who spoke of Ice and Death rising in the frozen North.

He sat in Driftmark wondered what to do, the path forward was murky and perilous, no matter what path he decided to walk.

And then rumors of dragons and Targaryens from across the Narrow Sea came to them. Rumors of an uprising in Pentos, led by a Dragon, reached Driftmark.

In the end, it was that that brought him and Aurane to Pentos.

It was terrifying to imagine what would come. Soon enough, Daenerys Targaryen could cross the Narrow Sea, and with Fire and Blood, she would take back the Seven Kingdoms.

The Velaryons had stood with the Targaryens when the Conqueror had first come to Westeros three centuries ago. Here and now, he, Monford Velaryon would stand with Daenerys Targaryen as she took back the Iron Throne from the Usurper. This was right. It was nothing more than the renewal of the old familial bonds. Their shared blood would be reunited once more.

He would return House Velaryon back to it's former glory.

"Welcome to Pentos, brother," Aurane's smug voice came from behind him.

He turned and looked at his brother, "Finally, yes."

Aurane grimaced as came to stand by him at the railing, "Yes finally, just our luck to run into such unseasonable weather in the height of summer."

"But we're here finally, that's all that matters," Monford replied.

The rough seas had lengthened what should have been such a short trip across the Narrow Sea.

"And now begins the hard part," commiserated Aurane, "our kin are quick to anger, and remember all who betray them."

Monford winced, it wasn't something he hadn't heard before from Aurane and his advisors. Targaryens were dragons- with the anger to match, "We're here now and we have half the Royal Fleet with us as well, I'm sure that the Queen will be reasonable."

"We can hope..." Aurane retorted dryly.

Monford sighed unhappily, "Yes, we can hope."

"Of course we could always turn around and stand by the Usurper instead?" Aurane stated in a deadpan.

He snorted in derision, "I'd rather take my chances with her anger!"

Aurane chuckled, "Even if she takes after her father?"

Monford twitched uneasily as memories of Aerys returned to haunt him, "Yes. Robert and the damned Lannisters have taken too much from us over the years, it's time that the Old Blood of Valyria rises once more."

Aurane nodded but didn't comment further.

Their course was set, better this than the Usurper and his dogs. Best to trust in the Old Blood of Valyria.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Pentos hadn't changed much since the last time he had been here. But it had changed. The three headed red dragon of House Targaryen now flew over the Prince of Pentos's palace.

It was the Queen's palace now.

The city felt different. It had a jubilant air, the slaves of Pentos walked with straight backs. Or rather the former slaves did. The Dockmaster had been especially loud when greeting them and mentioning how Pentos was truly a free city now thanks to the auspices of the Breaker of Chains.

A good thing that, slavery was a vile practice and no Westerosi would accept a monarch that let slavery run rampant. Considering Queen Daenerys's upbringing in Essos, a continent rife in slavery and barbarism, it had been a fear of his that she would be accepting of such things.

Monford stood looking up at the red dragon waving in the breeze as Aurane spoke with a timid little Pentoshi official that was acting as gatekeeper for the Queen's Palace.

He heard it before he saw it. A loud booming screeching. Something he had never heard before from any creature.

His heart beat faster.

It appeared without fanfare, seemingly jumping up to the battlements from inside the palace. Men and guards scattered from their patrols on the battlements. Green scales and large leathery wings flapping, throwing dust into the air, it stood atop the battlements now.

Dragon.

His mouth went dry. As he saw the dragon look down towards him and the others scattered in front of the palace. Eyes that shone with an inhuman intelligence watched from above.

Dragon.

It was no Balerion the Black Dread or Meraxes or Vhagar. It was smaller than he'd hoped and imagined, but it was still larger than the biggest destrier he'd ever seen.

Dragon.

Whatever it was searching for it didn't find it. It roared again, the noise shaking Monford. With a great lurch, it launched itself into the air, flapping it's leathery wings rapidly, it ascended high into the air. It disappeared into the clouds in next to no time.

Dragon.

He'd just seen a Dragon! The rumors were true! He felt his lips widening into a smile, even as he felt a sense of victory rising in the core of his very being.

Aurane approached quietly, "A dragon, brother."

"Yes..." he answered without looking at him, his eyes still fixed on the spot it had disappeared.

"She has three," Aurane causally stated.

His head snapped down as he looked sharply at his brother, "Three?!"

His brother just smiled toothily back.

His smile turned into a broad grin. A large wide grin that started to hurt his face. It seemed that Daenerys Targaryen was the Conqueror reborn. With Fire and Blood, she'd take back the Iron Throne!

Aurane was giving him an amused smile now, his eyes dancing with mirth, "Brother...you're grinning like a fool."

"It's because I know I've done the right thing coming here...soon enough the usurper will burn," he finished with smug glee, images of burning stags and lions and wolves dancing in his mind's eye.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The Queen was holding court, albeit was an Essosi court, Aurane stood by his side as they waited for their turn to present themselves to the Queen. She was surrounded by her followers. A dothraki handmaiden knelt by her throne. Rough looking Dothraki men and silent slight Unsullied guarded the throne. A number of lower seats were placed around her. Men and women sat there, of all different backgrounds. He thought that they were all Essosi until he saw what looked like a proper Westerosi knight sitting in the seat nearest to her.

It seemed like some lowly merchant was asking for her favor in same inane matter. He didn't pay it much attention, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that here he was in the court of the rightful Queen of Westeros, about to proclaim his fealty for all to hear.

The damn merchant took up far too much of the Queen's attention and time as he droned on about his trade. Time that Monford deserved more.

But he didn't waste the time, it allowed him to get a good look at the Queen. She was a young slip of a girl, barely a woman. A small and lithe creature, but one blessed with the beauty of Old Valyria. She looked much like Rhaella. The old Queen had been beautiful, but very subdued the times he had met her. Her daughter here was not subdued. There was steel in her eyes. She held herself regally and proudly.

And she had dragons, he thought with a smug smile.

The damned merchant finally finished his meaningless business and it was their turn now.

The way opened before him and he strode confidently forward, with his head held up high.

"Lord Monford Velaryon, the Lord of Tides and Master of Driftmark. And his brother, Aurane Waters," they were announced to the court.

The Queen scrutinized them closely as they came forward, whispers and excited murmurs ran through the rest of the court as he came before the throne.

He knelt and bowed his head. He wasted no time in declaring his intentions, "I bring you the fealty of House Velaryon, my Queen," he proclaimed proudly, "I also bring you the fealty of Houses Celtigar, Bar Emmon, and Sunglass, we all pledge loyalty to you, your Grace. We have always served House Targaryen, and we continue to do so."

The whispers turned in muted roars of surprise at his words.

One of the Queen's advisors, a man with Valyria features suddenly stood up and stepped towards them.

"Lord Velaryon...it has been a very long time," the man said arrogantly, his eyes betrayed anger that did not match his even tone.

Monford's smile froze on his face as he recognized the man he hadn't seen since the time Aerys Targaryen's court, "Prince Viserys..." he intoned in surprise.

Prince Viserys eyed Monford with suspicion.

Monford remembered a little boy that had clung to Queen Rhaella once upon a time. The boy was a man grown now. Which was more than surprising considering that his younger sister was the one sitting on the throne. If Viserys was here and alive...why was Daenerys the one named Queen?

Prince Viserys continued waiting impatiently, eyeing him suspiciously, as Monford realised that he hadn't really answered the Prince.

"Uh...yes my Prince it has been too many years since we've met," Monford managed to say without to much fluster.

"Last time I checked, you swore allegiance to the Usurper," Viserys accused him angrily.

Monford felt his smile turn in a rictus as he felt the ground slipping out from under him.

Aurane shifted uncomfortably next to him, and whispered urgently, "Say something. Anything, Monford. Quickly."

Monford prevaricated quickly, "It...was...just a..a..lapse my Prince. We were always loyal to House Targaryen. It-"

"It was what was needed for your survival. And it is in the past now," the Queen cut him off, rising from her throne and coming to his aid.

She stepped up to her brother and placed a hand on Viserys's shoulder, "Lord Velaryon is not be the only Lord that was forced to swear himself to the Usurper after the war," she cast a firm look at Monford before continuing, "What is important is that he stands with us now."

Monford nodded and quickly added, "There are many Lords indeed, my Queen....many lords."

Viserys didn't look convinced, but he turned to the Queen, "If you say so, Dany." He said sullenly. He cast another suspicious look at Monford and Aurane before taking his seat again.

The Queen turned her back on Monford and ascended back to her throne, speaking as she walked, "We will speak later Lord Velaryon, we have much to speak on," she sat back down on her throne and gave him a welcoming smile that did much to reassure Monford, "For now, I am most glad to accept your fealty, my Lord."

He nodded again quickly, giving her a wide grateful smile, "Of course my Queen, as you say."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Later had come, and he found himself in the Queen's private solar. It was decorated in the Essosi fashion, but he had expected it to be. Unsullied guards stood at the ready, as silent and unmoving as statues. Except the eyes. Their eyes followed his every move, much to his own disquiet.

Aurane was made to wait outside as Monford spoke with the Queen, leaving him alone under the Unsullied's wary eyes. The Queen's dothraki Handmaiden served them wine first. She cast distrusting looks, and seemed very protective of the Queen, standing by the Queen's side after she was finished.

Thankfully, the Queen's expression was less guarded and suspicious than her various servants and Prince Viserys. She seemed welcoming, though a little surprised. Though it was to be expected, Robert Baratheon still sat the Iron Throne, and according to the stories he'd heard, Monford's son had only pledged loyalty to her after all the Baratheons were dead.

It still rankled with him that he'd died at the hands of the damned Imp in the last life, and that everyone else remembered except him. Though that was probably a good thing, death by Wildfire while serving Stannis Baratheon was not something he wanted to remember. Which reminded him, he had to ask the Queen about that absurd rumor that the Imp was her Hand.

He sipped his wine as his ruminations came to an end, "Thank you, your Grace, for your support," he began gracefully.

"The world has changed...and Viserys is still changing," she stated evenly, "The is much at stake and my brother still has much to learn, he is still, shall we say...quick to anger."

"Think nothing of it your Grace, Prince Viserys is right to be wary," he responded quickly and humbly.

"That is gracious of you my lord, and I appreciate it," she complimented him.

He smiled at her and bowed his head, "Thank you, your Grace."

She narrowed her eyes and took a sip of her wine, "Though I am curious as to why you decided to bend the knee to me and not my nephew?" she asked inquisitively.

His mind lurched to a complete and sudden stop like a rammed ship, and he gasped dumbly, "Nephew?! Price Aegon lives?!" he blurted out in surprise.

The Queen shook her head mournfully, "No. Elia Martell's children are dead. Of that there is no doubt. I am speaking of Lyanna Stark's son."

He shook his head, angry and saddened at the reminder of that bloody travesty of fate before freezing as the second part of her words registered. It took him a moment to understand the import of her words.

He gaped as the implications suddenly became clear in his mind, "Lyanna Stark's son?!"

The Queen smiled coyly obviously amused by his shock, "A trueborn son. Lord Stark raised him "

He sat in his chair opening and closing his mouth several times, no sound came out, as he tried to find the proper words to say, or proper question to ask. The world had once more taken another impossible turn. He didn't find any, instead he took a long drink of wine.

The wine wasn't bad, it was no Arbor Gold but it was good enough to still his shocked nerves in the here and now.

He carefully controlled his expression, hiding his fear. Both Daenerys and Viserys had been raised in Essos, and it made them half foreigners despite being Targaryens. A Targaryen born and raised in Westeros would be better accepted by the Lords of Westeros. A number of them might just reject Daenerys in favor of the northern Prince...it could even be enough to plunge the realm into Civil War!

...and did I just take sides in a second Dance of Dragons?! Does her nephew also have dragons at his command? He thought in scared alarm, his mind racing with just how quickly this situation could sour...badly.

Something of his fear must have leaked out, for the Queen laughed in amusement, "It is alright. It was rather apparent that you had no idea Jon existed. Do not be alarmed, my lord. House Targaryen does not stand divided. Neither I nor Jon care which of us you declare fealty to...as long as you bend the knee to House Targaryen."

He let out a relieved breath, he hadn't realised that he had been holding.

"Jon and I are united, we will not be fighting over Westeros, or over who sits the Iron Throne," she assured him with a simple smile.

"I am...glad, your Grace," he said in relief, "This...changes many things." He took another drought of his wine, trying to calm his unexpectedly strained nerves.

"Allow me to enlighten you of the truth of many things," she began, her expression darkening and her tone hardening, "I was not understating matters when I said that there were many things that you needed to know."

He frowned, she'd seemed welcoming before what had changed?

She began speaking again, explaining that Brandon Stark had made all this possible and how she had helped him. She confirmed that the damned imp was truly her Hand.

He gritted his teeth and held his peace at that announcement. A Lannister Hand. He remembered the last time that had happened and how badly that had ending for the Queen's father.

Unfortunately, that was far from the last revelation to anger him.

A pardon for the oath breaking Kingslayer?! That was sheer folly and madness...or at least it was until his real reasons were revealed. He'd broken out into a cold sweat at how close King's Landing had come to true calamity.

She spoke of her nephew, hidden away in Winterfell of all places by the honorable Ned Stark, of Jpn Targaryen's battles in the North and his subsequent ascension to King in the North, unknowing of his true birthright. Of course that didn't explain to him how that fucking Onion Knight became Jon Targaryen's Hand?! How the fuck did that jumped up peasant go from being Stannis Baratheon's arse licker to Hand to a Targaryen King?!

Monford knew that he failed to keep his disapproval from his face at the mention of Davos, but the Queen kept speaking in spite of it.

Then her impossible words turned his world into a hideous nightmare.

His goblet fell from his nerveless hand, clattering to the floor and spilling his wine across the marble floor, "The Others?" he uttered hoarsely, in shock.

"I realise it is much to take in, my Lord, but it is the unfortunate truth," she grimaced unhappily, "I was skeptical the first time around...I had to see that horror of it all to believe, but I ask you to take my word for it now." Her eyes demanded his belief.

He found himself nodding numbly, "Of..of course, my Queen," he stuttered still in shocked disbelief.

The war that was coming was not a war of restoration. It was not a war to topple Robert Baratheon off the Iron Throne...the Targaryens already had that well in hand. No, this was something else. This was a war for their very survival.

All things aside- especially the damned Imp and fucking Onion Knight, he'd done the right thing coming here.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Edmure Tully

Life in Riverrun was strangely mundane these days. Life was simple for him after his wedding. Preparations for Winter and for facing off against Robert was all they did. After the excitement of dealing with the Freys, there hadn't really been anything exciting to do during the day.

Lords Blackwood and Bracken and returned to properly marshal their full strength. Patrek had stayed with the rest of his father's men, as his father, Lord Jason Mallister, summoned the rest of his banners at Seagard. He'd be coming to Riverrun soon enough. He was already on the march.

Edmure paused for a moment and thought of his friend. Patrek hadn't reacted well to all the changes, though thankfully he was getting better. And they were refreshing their friendship, as Edmure remembered their better, carefree days.

And as for his nights...well, it still brought a flush of heat to his face as he thought of Roslin...and what they did in the nights. Things were going well there. She was settled in Riverrun and as Lady Tully, she had blossomed. Even father had well and truly accepted her now, even though it still rankled him that Walder Frey's daughter was the new Lady of Riverrun.

As for father, these days, he was...stronger than before. He still tired easily and he could not spend as much time working without rest, but he seemed better that before. He'd mentioned it to father and father had said, that apparently rage was a great thing for sharpening one's focus.

Rage at the Freys, at the Lannisters, the Baratheons...at fate for making him so weak in the face of the coming Long Night. To know that the Stranger is coming for him soon, that there was not enough time left to him to know that his family would be safe...that more than anything didn't just motivate him, but drove him from his sickbed every single morning. On the other hand, thankfully, father had finally eased up on Stevron. All things considered, enough was enough. Stevron had been near his breaking point.

But it sobered, and ate at Edmure every time he remembered just how soon he'd be the Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the the Riverlands.

It wasn't any easier on Uncle Brynden either, it was harder for him because he didn't remember their last life. And why Bran hadn't made Uncle Brynden remember was something Edmure would speak to Bran about the next time they met.

Or at least try to. With Bran, it usually felt like you were talking to a wall these days. Not that it actually mattered. Or that he'd ever actually met the old Bran from before and known the young boy that others had spoken of.

He shook that off, there wasn't anything he could do about that. He turned his back to his work. As with most mornings, he was going over records in father's solar with him. Uncle Brynden would probably be in the training yard at this time. All of this was routine by these days.

The newest thing was that Varys had sent them a message saying that Robert and his army were starting to move. And telling them about the Wode's betrayal. After everything Edmure had done at the Twins, you'd have though no Riverlander House would have dared to betray them...

In any case, soon enough things would stop being calm and routine.

But even those preparations were already moving forward. For one, his aunt, Lady Shella Whent had already left Harrenhal, she would arrive at Riverrun soon enough. The lessons of the last wars had not be lost on her. Her castellan would hold the castle in her stead for as long as possible.

His father was sitting behind his desk, frowning down at a book. Edmure sat opposite him with his own collection of papers splayed around him, the reports from the nearest holds, estimating yields for this harvest, and a number of letters from some of their more distant lords.

There came a cursory knock on the door of the solar, before the door opened and his uncle strode purposely in with a guarded expression on his face. He was followed closely behind by a stern faced veteran knight in Hightower livery of all things.

Edmure frowned, what is a Reacher knight from Oldtown doing in the Riverlands? And why is Uncle frowning like that?

Father looked up from his book, his eyes darted from Brynden to the knight and back. Father raised a questioning eyebrow at Brynden.

"You'll want to hear what he has to say," uncle Brynden said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well?" asked father warily.

The knight in Hightower livery bowed deeply to them, and then cast an apologetic look at father before turning to look at Edmure "My Lord, I am Ser Hardin Flowers, I bring dire news from Lord Leyton Hightower," he held out a hefty letter to Edmure, "He charged me to personally to hand this over only to you, Lord Edmure or your Uncle, the Blackfish."

Father frowned darkly at the knight, "And why not to me? I am Lord of Riverrun," he asked acidly.

Ser Hardin continued to look abashed and embarrassed, "Forgive me Lord Tully, but Lord Hightower was unsure of your well being. He is aware of your illness, but obviously he was wrong of the extent of it. I am sure he did not mean any insult."

Father glared for a moment before huffing in annoyance, "Aye, as you say, I can believe that. That's very cautious of him," he paused eyes narrowing in suspicion, he waved towards Edmure and the letter, "I doubt this letter carries any good news then?"

Ser Hardin's face darkened, "Far from it...but it is under control now, my Lord. Please read it, you will understand everything then."

Father huffed again, and then turned to look at Edmure, "Well?" he asked pointedly.

Edmure flushed apologetically, and hurried to open the letter. The rather thick letter. That Lord Hightower considered important enough to send with a trusted knight, and not some courier, "Of course father."

He tore the letter open letter and started reading. It started out simple, with greetings and salutations, assures of the truthfulness of the coming words and a proclamation of the Hightower's allegiance to House Targaryen.

And then the words turned mad as Lord Hightower outlined the conspiracy of an age. A conspiracy of maesters that spanned centuries and the entirety of Westeros. Lord Hightower continued with specific incidents and actions by the traitors.

The more he read, the more his mind refused to be believe that such base actions were possible. He shouldn't have been surprised, not after living through the Red Wedding...but he was. The Red Wedding had been a single incident spawned by Walder Frey's greed and Tywin Lannister's ruthlessness.

This was something else entirely.

He balked at the sheer unmitigated audacity of those traitorous bastards siting in the Citadel.

"Edmure?" he heard his father ask.

Slack jawed and stunned, he passed the letter to his father without a word uttered.

His father took it with a concerned glance at him and stared reading, leaving Edmure to remember old maester Kym. He remembered him fondly. The old maester had served Riverrun and House Tully for so long. Since before Edmure had been born till after the Rebellion had started. Aside from all the times that Edmure run away from his lessons, he'd liked the old man, who had been loyal to his oaths to Riverrun and House Tully.

Except he hadn't been loyal. Except he'd been sent to Riverrun by his masters to limit the power of House Tully. To poison if necessary any that would help strengthen House Tully. Edmure wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not that Kym hadn't needed to resort to what the maester at Casterly Rock had done.

Fate had taken the life of Minisa Tully, unlike Joanna Lannister. But Kym had done worse, he'd whispered outright lies into Brandon Stark's ear. He'd burned the missives from Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.

How many had died because of Kym and these treasonous actions?

And worse, maester Vyman was cut from the same treacherous cloth as Kym!

Lord Hightower shared the maesters' secrets liberally. There were many other crimes that the maesters were guilty of in the Riverlands...the perpetuation of the Blackwood and Bracken blood feud to but name another of their horrific crimes.

Edmure looked at his father. Father's eye was starting to twitch. Edmure could see his father's ire rising.

He finished reading and wordlessly handed the letter to Uncle Brynden.

Uncle Brynden took it with hesitation, looking between Edmure's shocked expression and father's simmering anger.

Shock then outrage ran across uncle's face. When he was finished he cast the letter onto the desk and looked ready for a fight.

"Brynden." Father's tone was deadly.

"I'll deal with him, brother," Uncle's face was set in stone. As he turned and marched out out the solar, bellowing for the guards as he went.

Father took a deep breath and turned to Ser Hardin, "I thank you for your service, Ser. It will not be forgotten."

Ser Hardin bowed, he began hesitantly, "Excuse me, my lords, I have also brought a replacement for your traitor, he has been properly vetted and is not a member of the traitorous group," the knight explained.

Father waved a hand in annoyance, "Yes, yes, Leyton explained that as well- I'll speak to him in a while...for now, wait outside."

Ser Hardin nodded, "Yes, my Lord." He bowed and left without another word.

"Father..." Edmure began.

Father waved him to silence.

Edmure closed his mouth and sat back in his chair. They sat in silence. Father looked deep in thought...of course that was expected given the number of revelations that had just been thrown at them.

His uncle returned quickly, and shared a look with father, before nodding.

"Good," Father stated testily.

Uncle grabbed a chair and pulled up to sit with them.

"All things considered, The Rains of Castamere are probably getting a new verse out of this," his uncle stated dryly.

"That is rather obvious, Brynden," father said with distaste, "this is most troubling."

"Troubling, father? This is unspeakable!" Edmure exclaimed angrily.

Uncle Brynden shook his head, "At least Hightower has them by the balls now."

Father smiled evilly, "By this letter, he's already cut their balls off!"

Uncle Brynden chuckled darkly.

Edmure rubbed his head, "As if we didn't have enough trouble. Soon enough Robert will be marching upon us. And we already know that the Wodes have betrayed us."

Father sneered at that, "Nothing to be done...for now, but there will be a reckoning soon enough. We will deal with them and Robert when the time comes. One thing at a time son," father intoned gravely, "One thing at a time"

Edmure didn't disagree with his father, but...it was going to be a long day, dealing with the consequences of this conspiracy of maesters.