Chapter Forty Three: Moving Along

It all started at Harrenhal.

It was there that Lyanna secretly fought for Lord Howland's honor, inadvertently gaining the crown's attention in the process. It was there that Rhaegar crowned Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty over his own wife, prompting the wolf girl to seek out the Dornishwoman. It was there that Elia and Lyanna subsequently came to care for one another, inciting a dangerous plot. It was there that the precursor to the fall of the Targaryen dynasty occurred.

Most of all, it was there where Ashara Dayne met Brandon Stark. Although he was betrothed to the daughter of Riverrun, the then-heir to Winterfell had lain with the exotic beauty from Starfall. He had claimed to love her, that he wished he could wed her instead of Catelyn Tully. He was even considering relinquishing his birthright for Ashara. I actually believed him. I am certain I was not his first, but Starks value their word and treasure their honor.

But everything changed when Lyanna ran off with Rhaegar and Elia. Brandon Stark had rashly gone to King's Landing to rescue his sister and bring her supposed kidnapper to justice. His rashness and his quick temper were what got him, his father, his friends, and their fathers killed. Their murders (or executions, depending on one's perspective) were what incited the Rebellion.

Like most of Dorne, Ashara had remained out of that war. She mourned to loss of her one-time lover. He left a piece of him with her, which she took comfort in. For a time.

When her daughter came into the world, she was stillborn. Ashara's agony only increased from there. There were moments when she even considered throwing herself into the sea, just as people later said she did.

Then Arthur returned home. She had thought for a certainty that her brother would perish in the fighting. She was spared that bit of grief, at least.

Although Rhaegar Targaryen had lost his life in the Rebellion, Gregor Clegane had ensured the survival of both his wives and all three of his children. However, in order to guarantee the continuance of their survival, the Mountain would require additional aid.

By her own choice, Ashara had offered to assist him. She had accompanied Rhaenys Targaryen, Howland Reed, and Lyanna Stark to Greywater Watch. She had also consented to the Mountain's idea to pass along the belief that she was the mother of Lyanna's son, Jaehaerys (better known as Jon).

Ashara had even arranged the first meeting between Jon and Lyanna. Of course, at the time, Jon was unaware that she was anything other than a maid. Despite the fact that she was assigned to Jon exclusively, he never once suspected that she was his mother. Nonetheless, she served him for nearly five years, which allowed a type of closeness to form between them.

Now Jon finally knew the truth. Ashara had been concerned that nothing, not even the last five years, could have prepared him for it. Fortunately, after a brief period of shock, he seemed to have come to terms with the revelation. He is likely experiencing a number of conflicting emotions. If so, that cannot be held against him.

Seeing Rhaegar Targaryen's youngest child embrace his mother, Ashara felt quite proud of herself. After all, it was she who had made this reunion possible.

Ashara did not know how long Jon and Lyanna remained locked in their hug, but she wagered it could have been less than five minutes.

Eventually, Jon and Lyanna removed their arms from each other. Probably because they finally remembered they were still in the company of others. Were they alone, they may have stayed together longer.

"So…" Jon mumbled awkwardly, wiping away the remnants of his tears and staring at the ground, "What now?"

"Now, there are a few more people I need to reintroduce to you," Lord Gregor Clegane declared, gesturing around the room. After a moment, he hastily added in "If you think you can handle it."

Jon scoffed. He turned to the tall man and stated "You needn't condescend me, my lord. After what I just learned, I can handle anything else you have to tell."

It looks as though he has already regained his usually stoic yet witty demeanor. That's a sign that he is ready to accept virtually anything else he is told now.

"Even the news that you are not an only child?" Gregor Clegane asked rhetorically.

Once more, Jon appeared stunned, but he was not flabbergasted this time. "What are you talking about?"

"As you know, your father had two other children from his first wife," the Mountain disclosed, gesturing to Princess Elia Martell.

"Yes, but they died during the Sack of King's Landing," Jon pointed out.

Lord Gregor solemnly shook his head and expounded "Contrary to what you've been told, I was not too late to save only their mother. Ser Amory Lorch nearly succeeded in putting Princess Elia and her children to the sword. I arrived just in time to stop him from killing any of them."

"But the small corpses that were presented to the king…" Samwell Tarly remarked.

"Although the city was taken with minimal loss, there was still some loss," Gregor Clegane recalled, "A young girl and a male babe were among the casualties. While their deaths were unfortunate, they did serve some purpose. A terrible, gruesome purpose, but a meaningful one, just as well."

In any case, the ruse with their bodies worked.

Princess Elia took over for a moment: "Lord Gregor managed to smuggle my son and my daughter out of King's Landing. They sailed back to Sunspear with us. Soon after, we rode for the Tower of Joy. Within a fortnight, Jon, you came into the world."

"That was the last time all three of Rhaegar Targaryen's children were in the same place," Gregor Clegane muttered, "For their own safety, it was decided that they would be kept apart. You, Jon, were raised in Winterfell with your uncle and his family. Rhaenys was sheltered in Greywater Watch by Lord Howland Reed. Aegon stayed in Sunspear under the pretense that he was Oberyn Martell's only male bastard."

At that, Jon gradually turned to face "Rhaella" and "Edgar Sand." Both of them gave a small smile.

After a few seconds, Rhaenys began to approach him. Aegon started towards him a moment later. They both reached Jon at approximately the same time. It was then that he smiled.

"Brother," Aegon murmured kindly, extending his hand.

Jon took the elder boy's hand and shook it firmly. After that, he looked to Rhaenys, and he shook hands with her, as well. He also placed a light kiss on the back of Rhaenys' hand, causing her to giggle. She obviously appreciated the gesture.

"This must come as a surprise," Rhaenys wryly presumed.

Jon chuckled and muttered "Ten minutes ago, I did not have a mother. Now I have a brother and sister."

Half-brother and half-sister, in all technicality. But that is not the important part.

Jon then turned towards Ashara and thought aloud "Then you are not Rhael – I mean, Rhaenys' mother, my lady?"

"Indeed not, Jon," she bluntly admitted, putting down the poultice Lyanna used to remove her disguise, "Furthermore, Shaara is not my name. However, my true name uses the same letters."

Samwell Tarly was the first to understand her meaning. He softly uttered "Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall."

Ashara merely nodded her head to confirm. The woman Jon's always believed to be his mother.

"The reports of my suicide were false," Ashara professed, "A fabrication invented so I could disappear with Lyanna and Rhaenys. I went with them to Greywater, where we all lived together in secret. A while later, your mother moved to Moat Cailin."

"All thanks to you," Lyanna murmured gratefully. She then informed her son "You should know our arrangement at Moat Cailin was Lady Ashara's idea entirely. Even with a disguise, I could not risk going back to Winterfell, as too many people there could have recognized me. Ashara thought around that. It was she who suggested that you be Lord Gregor's squire, and that I masquerade as your maid."

Ashara could not decide to smirk or blush at Lyanna's praise. Jon turned back to her, slowly walked over to her, and held out his hand. After this handshake, Jon stepped closer to Ashara and kissed her softly on the cheek. "I am will be forever grateful for what you've done, my lady."

This time, she smirked and blushed. He has his father's charms. Of course, Ygritte could attest to that.

Ygritte said nothing when her lover pressed his lips against Ashara's face. The Dornishwoman glimpsed at the redheaded girl out of the corner of her eye, and she seemed indifferent. That was a relief. Say what one will about the wildlings; at least they do not get the wrong impression.

Right then, Jon raised an eyebrow. He looked around the room at large and muttered "If you all reached the Tower of Joy before I was born, you must have been there for quite a while. Were you there during the ensuing skirmish between Lord Eddard's men and the Kingsguard?"

"Actually, there was no skirmish at the Tower of Joy," Prince Oberyn Martell revealed, "You see, my boy, the Kingsguard were unwilling to bend the knee to Robert, and even if they were, they refused to leave their late prince's children unprotected. So they went into hiding, as well."

"Where are they?" Jon inquired.

"I believe I know," Samwell Tarly interjected. When all eyes were on him, he declared "They're standing in this room."

Before any questions could be asked, he gazed around the meeting chamber and announced "Ihtos, you came here with Princess Elia's party. Ser Rebinald, you arrived with Lady Ashara's. In the time since then, both of you have hardly left Prince Aegon or Princess Rhaenys' respective sides. Similarly, Ser Marvyn, as far back as I recall, you have never been more than fifty feet from Jon."

After a short pause, Samwell went on with "Despite always wearing that helm, Ihtos is clearly a Dornishman. Based on how he interacts with Lady Ashara, he has to be her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne. Secondly, the Reach is a large place, but Oldtown is not too far from Horn Hill. Thus, I can tell at a glance that Ser Marvyn is really a Hightower. Ser Gerold Hightower, no less. Lastly, Ser Rebinald shares some facial features with Lady Catelyn Stark, whose mother was a Whent. So even without the use of process of elimination, he must be Ser Oswell Whent."

Ashara was impressed. He is very observant. Then again, I should have expected as much. Samwell Tarly was one of the most intelligent people Ashara Dayne had ever met. She was not stunned that he was able to deduce all that on his own.

"If there was no fight at the Tower of Joy, what became of the three among Lord Eddard's company who did not return to the North?" Jon enquired, "What happened to Mark Ryswell, Ethan Glover, and Theo Wull?"

"Who do you think were the three men – apart from Ser Oswell – who arrived at the moat alongside myself and Lady Ashara?" Rhaenys slyly murmured.

Lord Gregor stepped forward and elaborated with "No one would have believed that the Kingsguard fell without taking at least one of the Northmen with them. Some of them would have had to disappear, too. Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Howland Reed were not expendable, Martyn Cassel had a son of his own, and Lord Willam Dustin was the last of his line. But Mark Ryswell, Ethan Glover, and Theo Wull were all childless bachelors from large families."

"Why aren't they here?" Samwell enquired curiously.

"I have them standing guard outside the chamber," Gregor Clegane answered him simply, "I needed them to ensure that we were not disturbed by anyone. Given what they know, they are better-qualified for that task than any of my guards."

Jon and Samwell seemed content with that response.

"Well, this has been a most peculiar day," Ygritte drily mumbled. Ashara and a few of the others chuckled at her candor. Is there anything that astonishes her?

"The day is not over yet," Gregor Clegane said sternly, "There is much more we have left to discuss."

"Such as what, my lord?" Aegon said inquisitively.

"Such as where we go from here," Gregor Clegane professed. He turned so that he faced Jon, Aegon, and Rhaenys all at once, and then he told them "The plan for you three to live in hiding was always meant to be a temporary one. Sooner or later, I meant for your existence to become common knowledge."

"And you believe the time for that is now?" Ashara Dayne conjectured.

"No, but it will be soon," Gregor Clegane contended, "Much sooner than I originally intended."

"How do you mean, my lord?" Rhaenys enquired.

The Mountain told her and her brothers "I have studied this issue from every angle, and I have determined that there were only two ways your identities could be made public without jeopardizing your lives. The first was if you had the means to retake the Iron Throne. Currently, support for the Royal House of Baratheon is at an all-time high, and none of the Targaryens has the power or influence to even begin to match Robert Baratheon. Apart from that, I was hoping to avoid that path. I have no wish to incite another insurrection, especially with the Long Night nearing."

Understandable. No civilized person wants bloodshed if it can be avoided.

"And the other 'way?'" Jon said in interest.

"The more passive of the two approaches," Gregor Clegane claimed, "I would have you emerge from the shadows only when I was certain you were safe from your grandfather's enemies."

"So you believe we are safe now?" Aegon assumed hopefully.

"No," Gregor Clegane bluntly responded, "Right now, the Starks, the Arryns, the Tullys, and even the Baratheons are capable of reasoning with you. But Tywin Lannister has never been a reasonable man. Unless by some miracle he becomes one, you'll never be safe whilst he draws breath. I was hoping he would die on his own sometime before the next winter. Alas, he is not dead now. Nonetheless, I can no longer afford to wait until he is."

"Why is that?" Lyanna Stark queried.

"Because I aim to be the one who tells Robert Baratheon the truth," Lord Gregor professed, "This may sound haughty, but I believe I am the only person who can tell him of this affair without endangering any of the involved parties. But if I do not act fast, he could learn of it from someone else."

"'Someone else?'" Elia Martell repeated, a little perplexed, "How could that happen? There are only a few dozen people who know about Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon, all of whom are our trusted allies."

"For the sake of curiosity, who all knows about us?" Aegon enquired.

"The people in this building, obviously," Gregor Clegane revealed, "Prince Doran Martell, a few of his retainers, some of my men-at-arms, and Varys. Other than Varys, none of them would betray our trust. For the present, we can count on Varys to keep his silence. Oh, and the members of the secret council, but with the exception of Prince Oberyn, all of them were only made aware recently."

"Wait, you told all of them?" Jon noted.

"That is correct," Gregor Clegane confirmed, "For the most part, their reactions varied. I'd say Willas took it best."

I can imagine why. Ashara glimpsed over at Rhaenys, and based on her smile, she appeared to be having a similar line of thought. I wonder which of them is the luckier?

"What about the others?" Aegon asked.

Lord Gregor recalled "Lyn, Lothor, and Tormund were more or less indifferent. Brynden, Smalljon, and Maron were astounded at first, but came to terms with the news quickly. The one I was most concerned about was Gerion. He has assured me he would still chose the Legion over his brother, so long as l continue to pursue the best interests of all Westerosi. I was also worried about how Renly would respond, but he claims he will not tell his brother, simply because he is curious to see what I have planned. Dacey… I am actually somewhat amazed by how well she accepted the news."

Ashara knew Lord Gregor did not like having to keep so many secrets from anyone, Dacey Mormont least of all. He should count himself fortunate to have such an understanding woman as a wife. Then again, had it been her and Brandon, Ashara had little doubt that she would have reacted the same way.

"Have you told anyone else, Gregor?" Oberyn Martell asked

"No one," Gregor firmly claimed.

"Then everyone who knows about Rhaegar's sons and daughter will not speak of them out of turn," Oberyn debated, "So why are you so concerned that someone other than you will tell Robert?"

"All of the people who know the full extent of this matter are our allies," Gregor Clegane pronounced, "However, there are some individuals who at least know certain aspects of it. Two in particular we should be mindful of, and neither of them can be counted an ally."

"Who might they be?" Samwell Tarly queried.

Instead of answering the heir to Horn Hill right away, Gregor Clegane turned to Rhaegar Targaryen's second wife. He muttered "Lyanna, at the Tower of Joy, do you remember when you claimed to send out ravens and riders to your father and brothers shortly before you fled with Rhaegar?"

"I did more than claim to do that, Gregor," Lyanna Stark asserted, "I know I dispatched them. I was not about to run away from home without telling my family what I was doing and why. The three couriers I sent out were all Stark men; reliable and unwavering. They should have reached their destinations."

"Under other circumstances, they would have," Gregor Clegane disputed, "After sixteen years, I have finally discovered what became of each of them. The one sent to the Eyrie was ambushed by the Moon Brothers, one of the mountain clans of the Vale. Given how dangerous the road to the Bloody Gate normally is, he should never have gone out by himself. The one sent to Riverrun tried to pass through the Twins, but he was denied the use of the bridge. He consequentially tried to ford the forks of the Trident and drowned in the attempt. Now, both those losses were entirely accidental. But the rider who was sent to Winterfell… what happened to him was no accident."

"Go on," Elia Martell beckoned him. By this point, he had everyone's full attention.

"A few days past, I received a raven from Lord Eddard Stark," Gregor Clegane illuminated, "Within the last fortnight, his son Robb attended the wedding of Rodrik Forrester and Elaena Glenmore. During the feast, Domeric Bolton, son and heir of Lord Roose, showed up and spoke with Robb in private. He talked about a hunting trip he went on earlier this year. During the hunt, he stumbled across the buried corpse of a Winterfell soldier."

He allowed a moment for that to set in. Ashara could hear others gasp softly. She herself was stunned. Lord Gregor soon continued with "Lord Roose did not report the discovery, and Domeric saw him remove something from the soldier's body. He did some investigating of his own, and it turned out to be a letter. He showed the letter to Robb Stark, Margaery Tyrell, and Mira Forrester. After so much time underground, the letter was practically indecipherable. But they managed to decipher certain parts of it. Mainly the passage which utilized the words 'Rhaegar' and 'wed' in the same sentence."

Even before that last statement, Ashara had had a very good idea as to where Lord Gregor was going with this revelation. Nevertheless, she was alarmed by the confirmation he provided to her hypothesis.

"Where was the rider found?" Rhaenys enquired, rubbing her temple.

"Somewhere on Bolton lands," Gregor uttered plainly.

"That's in the northeastern section of the North," Lyanna thought aloud, "Rhaegar and I were wed near Castle Cerwyn, which is no more than thirty miles north of Moat Cailin. The rider should not have gone anywhere near the Dreadfort on his way to Winterfell.

"Unless he was only buried on the Boltons' lands," Elia countered, "Perhaps he was killed elsewhere."

"Of course he was," Gregor Clegane candidly affirmed. He almost sounds as though he's talking to a bunch of lackwits. Then again, he has already given us plenty of clues. If anyone he was talking to had failed to realize what he was implying by now, he may as well have been. "Domeric believes his father had the soldier tracked, murdered, and interred. He also believes that the message was Roose's motive for doing all that in the first place."

"That makes sense," Lyanna muttered through gritted teeth, "Bolton has always coveted the seat of House Stark. By keeping that courier from doing his duty, he allowed my father and eldest brother to be murdered by the Mad King. He probably hoped Ned and Ben would meet the same fate."

Then Lord Roose was just as big an instigator of the Rebellion as anyone. That filthy leech…

"If he could make that happen, I've little doubt he would," Oberyn Martell drily stated, "But Roose Bolton's profound desire to become Lord Paramount of the North is not the main issue. How much does he know about…this?"

"For the present, I believe Roose only knows that Rhaegar and Lyanna eloped," Gregor debated, "He may not even know that much; he probably only suspects. I am reasonably confident he has no idea that Rhaegar's children are alive, or even that the prince had three."

"But Robb, Margaery, Mira, Domeric…" Jon muttered worriedly, "Even if they only received minimal knowledge of this issue from that letter, we should still take their involvement into account. How much do they know?"

"They know nothing," Gregor Clegane reassured him.

Ygritte smirked and began to open her mouth. Without even looking at her, Jon held up his hand and said snappily "Don't…"

The wildling girl closed her mouth, but she smirked again.

Gregor Clegane then pronounced "On that subject, Lord Eddard did mention that Margaery told him that Lady Olenna was fairly inquisitive about the direwolves, especially with how the mother direwolf seemed to favor Ghost the most, and how she bonded to the woman who was serving as maid to Ghost's master."

A prime example of what Lord Gregor would call 'juxtaposition' or 'lives in parallel.'

"Then the Queen of Thorns suspects?" Elia assumed anxiously

"I spoke with Willas on this, and he believes it is quite possible that his grandmother may have deduced all by herself that Lyanna is alive and that Jon is her son," Gregor Clegane professed, "Moreover, he supposes that she may have also determined that Rhaenys is the unnamed bride I have selected for him."

Flushing slightly, Rhaenys queried "So why has she not said anything?"

"I asked Willas the same," Gregor disclosed, "He claims that his grandmother actually approves of the match, as it will strengthen relations between the Reach and Dorne. He has also assured me that Lady Olenna will stay silent about Jon and Lyanna as long as our plans work in her family's favor. Since they do, we needn't worry that she will share what she has learned with anyone."

Just so, it would be both impertinent and impractical to cross the Queen of Thorns.

"Well then, if – after fifteen years – Roose Bolton has still not come forward, I would say he is no threat to us, either," Aegon contended.

"He is very much a threat to my brother's family," Lyanna bitterly remarked.

"Unfortunately, Lord Eddard cannot confront him, lest we run the risk of Bolton exposing us," Ashara Dayne noted.

"Just so, my lady," Lord Gregor conceded, "All the same, Lord Eddard is going to be more heedful of Bolton from now on. He has no intention of allowing that flayer to overthrow his family."

"Sooner or later, Bolton will have to be dealt with," Elia Martell argued.

"It will have be later, then," Gregor Clegane proclaimed, "Of the two hostile parties that may be on to us, Bolton is the one I am less worried about. He has held his tongue for fifteen years. He will not loosen it until he believes he has a practical chance of seizing the North from the Starks. Long as the Legion is garrisoned here and Lord Eddard maintains order, that will never happen."

He would not say that unless he was certain. That is sufficient for me. Based on the expressions of the others, that was sufficient for just about everyone else in the room.

"What of the other individual?" Ashara Dayne inquired, "Who is the one you believe to be the greater threat?"

Again, Gregor Clegane did not give a direct, immediate answer. Instead, he stayed silent for a minute, and then he asked no one in particular "What do you know of the followers of the Lord of Light?"

"They wear all red," Jon muttered.

"They treat fire like a holy object," Rhaenys uttered.

"They spit on all other gods," Aegon murmured.

"They claim to be able to see what is to come," Samwell mumbled. They are also fond of drink. Or maybe that is just Thoros of Myr.

"All true," Gregor Clegane averred, folding his arms, "My colleague Allard Seaworth is occupied with business across the Narrow Sea, as some of you are already aware. He is leading the company that was tasked with guarding Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Currently, they are all still in Pentos as guests of Magister Illyrio Mopatis. A few weeks back, Allard sent me a letter. In it, he notified me that a red priestess had shown up at Illyrio's manse."

"What was she doing there?" Rhaenys queried.

"According to Allard, she wished to enter your aunt and uncle's services," Gregor apprised the young princess and her brothers, "Now, before I say anything more, you should know I am familiar with this red priestess."

"Familiar how?" Princess Lyanna inquired.

"She was part of my vision of the Long Night," Gregor Clegane disclosed, "Her name is Melisandre. In my premonition, she entered the services of Lady Seylse Baratheon of Dragonstone. Overtime, she tried to convince Lord Stannis Baratheon that he was Azor Azai reborn. She also supported him in his efforts to seize the Iron Throne."

"Hold right there," Elia Martell interjected, "Stannis Baratheon would have sought to take the crown from his own brother?"

Lord Gregor merely nodded.

I would never have thought it possible. "I heard it said Lord Stannis values honor as much as the Starks."

"In my vision, he believed himself to be Robert's rightful heir," Gregor Clegane claimed, "Under different circumstances, he would have been. But none of that matters now. I have averted the fiasco that encouraged him to rise against the crown. In this world, Stannis would no sooner rebel than I would."

"That is fortunate," Aegon contended, "As you said earlier, my lord, we do not any more unnecessary conflict, even if it was just civil war between the Baratheons."

That may be advantageous for those loyal to the Targaryens, but it would yield unfavorable results for the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. And ultimately, even the Targaryens would be worse off for it.

"Anyway, since I have avoided the events that caused Lord Stannis to forsake the Seven, I assumed Melisandre would give us no trouble," Gregor Clegane explicated, "This marks one of the few times when my assumption proved to be premature. I never once considered the possibility that she would seek out the Targaryens instead."

"We've encountered unexpected difficulties before, Gregor," Prince Oberyn reminded his friend, "This is just another to add to the list."

"Normally, I would agree with you, Oberyn," Lord Gregor proclaimed, "However, there is one thing Allard mentioned about the Red Woman that greatly unsettles me. It is something I never would have imagined possible, even in my most vivid dreams."

If Ashara was not engrossed before, she definitely was now. So was everyone else, apparently. She stepped closer to the Mountain and asked him "What did he tell you?"

Gregor took a moment to gaze around the room, and then he sighed and revealed "Allard believes the Red Woman may have the same gift from the gods as I."

Silence. That was what followed. A tense, unpleasant, elongated period of silence.

Jon broke it with the proper question: "What led him to think that?"

"Less than a moon's turn ago, the Red Woman asked to speak with him, Viserys, and Daenerys privately," Gregor Clegane expounded, "During that meeting, she claimed to be aware of certain events. Some of these events would only have occurred if the scenarios in my visions came to pass. Furthermore, she told him that Rhaenys and Aegon were not dead, and that I was the one who saved them. She even knew that Lyanna was alive and that Jon was her and Rhaegar's son."

Everyone in the chamber was effectively rendered speechless.

"There must be some other explanation, my lord," Rhaenys proposed.

"None that I can see," Gregor Clegane refuted frankly, "We have already established that none of our allies who know of you, Aegon, and Jon would have informed on us. As such, Melisandre must have learned the truth all on her own. While it is normal for red priests and priestesses to make outlandish predictions of the future, Melisandre is not just supplying predictions. For instance, she claimed she would have entered the service of Lord Stannis Baratheon in another life. The only way she could have known that was if she has the same visions I have."

Two people who could see into the future and act to change it as they please… that sounds nearly as dangerous as the Long Night itself.

"What does this mean, my lord?" Aegon stated enquiringly, "More to the point, what does it mean for us?"

That is the real question.

"On the plus side, Allard has shared this information and his theory with no one else," Lord Gregor professed, "However, if he is correct about Melisandre – and it is very likely he is – everything is now far more complicated than it once was. And I mean everything. Not just the matters that concern Westeros and its residents. This affects the whole of the Known World."

"Surely she cannot be as troublesome as all that," Samwell Tarly contended.

"Oh, she can," the Mountain insisted, "You have seen how much change I have brought about, Sam. Melisandre could inflict just as much change. Perhaps more, as she is not bound by the laws of the Seven Kingdoms. She has the liberties of the Free Cities on her side. Additionally, the Red Woman knows everything I know. Fortunately, I in turn know everything she knows. So neither of us has an advantage over the other. Even so, she has the same capacity to garner great power and influence."

"Do you honestly believe that, my lord?" Ashara asked. Lord Gregor was not one to exaggerate or make grand allegations without cause. Any observations he made about anything and anyone had to be believed. Especially when such observations were about potential hazards to the stability of the world.

"Yes," Gregor Clegane affirmed, "Because of Melisandre, I have already had to revise some of my long-term plans. Originally, I was not going to share the news of Jon, Rhaenys, and Aegon's existence with the secret council until I told King Robert. You see, in the event that the Targaryens were somehow exposed before then, I wanted the secret council to have complete deniability. At least they would have been spared the king's wrath. However, the predicament with the Red Woman necessitated a change in my plans, and I had to be forward with Allard. As such, I deemed it necessary to be forward with the rest of the secret council."

"Your straightforwardness could turn out to be a benefit, Gregor," Elia suggested.

"Maybe," the Mountain admitted, "But be that as it may, I must now accelerate another of my timetables."

"Which one?" Ashara Dayne queried.

"The one concerning the world's awareness – or lack thereof – of Rhaegar's children," Gregor Clegane answered her, "Every day we delay is another day Melisandre could tip off the king. It is unlikely she would feed him this news directly, but he could acquire the information secondhand from one of a number of intermediate third parties."

"Well, that, we cannot have," Lyanna Stark sternly proclaimed.

Ashara then gazed over at the wolf girl, and a thought occurred to her. It may be best if she stayed in hiding, even after Jon, Aegon, and Rhaenys come out of it. Lord Gregor had likely arrived at that same conclusion. After this conversation ended, Lyanna would don her facial disguise and become "Myrna" again. She may have to remain Myrna for as long as the Usurper lives. After all, it was the "death" of Lyanna Stark that had inspired Robert Baratheon to turn his life around for the better of all. If he were to discover that that was all a fallacy… just thinking about the potential consequences that would result from that made Ashara shudder.

"I quite agree," Oberyn Martell conceded, turning to the tallest man there, "Now that I reflect on this, I feel you are correct, Gregor. You should be the one to tell Robert Baratheon about Aegon, Rhaenys, and Jon. I just need to know first: do you think he can be persuaded not to harm them? I mean, would he seriously grant them amnesty if they were to appear before him?"

"At this point, we can only hope," Lord Gregor glumly admitted, "But I like to think he would. At the very least, he is a much better man than he was when he first claimed the Iron Throne. From what Jasper has told me of his father, the Robert Baratheon who sits the throne now would never sanction the murder of innocent children, Targaryen or otherwise."

"That is good enough for me," Aegon declared.

"Me, as well," Rhaenys decreed.

Jon stayed silent for a few seconds, and then he shrugged and commented "Me, too, I suppose."

Ashara doubted that was enough consolation for Elia Martell or Lyanna Stark, but neither princess said anything to protest. Either they trusted their children's judgment, or they had faith in Lord Gregor Clegane's ability to overcome rather unfavorable odds. In this situation, I'd lean more towards the latter. After all, it was Lord Gregor who got us this far.

"Then I must arrange a meeting with the King and soon," Gregor Clegane swiftly decided.

"How soon?" Lyanna queried, stepping closer to Jon and placing a protective hand on his shoulder.

"Before the year is out," Lord Gregor announced. Just a little over three months. "At this time, however, when is not as important as where. I have come to the conclusion that our audience with King Robert will have to be on neutral ground."

That would be for the best. That much, Ashara could tell straightaway. If the King came to Moat Cailin, he would question why Gregor had waited until he was in the company of the Legion without Banners to tell him about the Targaryens. Lord Gregor would not have meant that as a threat, but if Robert interpreted it as one, Ashara would not have blamed him. Holding the meeting in King's Landing would pose similar risks. Even if King Robert gave the Targaryens safe quarter, at least half of the guards in the Red Keep were loyal to House Lannister. If the Queen or her father commanded them to attack Rhaegar's children, they would undoubtedly obey without hesitation.

The meeting will have to be somewhere between Moat Cailin and King's Landing. Someplace where neither man has higher ground, but both feel safe and out of danger within reason.

"Have you chosen a location yet, my lord?" Jon queried.

"As it happens, I have," Gregor Clegane notified his squire, "In preparation for occasions such as this, I have designated a multitude of holdfasts in the Seven Kingdoms as possible temporary meeting sites. Earlier this week, I wrote to Lady Shella Whent, asking her if she would be willing to host us in the near future. I just got a raven back from her this morning. In the message, she said she would be honored to accommodate us sometime in the following three turns of the moon."

Just about everyone in the room seemed satisfied with that proposal. Ashara was not, but she made no objections. Still, she could not ignore what this arrangement meant. Life is full of these little ironies, I suppose.

They were going back to Harrenhal. They were going back to where it all started.

…

"Does this hurt, my lord?" Maester Velix asked, squeezing gently on the boy's bicep, right on top of the bruise.

Young Lord Mors winced but did not groan, and he lightly nodded his head, saying "Yes, Maester."

He is wounded, but he does not let the pain consume him. Very much like his lord father. He smiled and declared "I am pleased to say nothing is broken. But your arm will feel a little sore for the next day or so, and I will need to wrap it up to bring down the swelling."

"As you say, Maester," Mors said, quite accepting. He was expecting worse, I imagine.

"So, he'll be alright?" Young Lady Tyta asked in concern for her brother.

"Yes, my lady," Velix assured her. For the fifth time. He did not allow himself to become irritated, though. After he retrieved a roll of gauze from his bag, he told the girl gently "You mustn't blame yourself for this."

"But it was my fault," Tyta debated.

"No, it was mine," Mors insisted, as Velix treated the abrasion on his arm, "I didn't listen."

He listened as well as any lad of five nearing his sixth nameday could. The difference is that most others are unwilling to admit their flaws.

"Oh, stop blaming yourself, Mors," Tyta urged her brother, "You did nothing wrong."

"Then how did I get this?" Mors asked rhetorically, gesturing to his now-bandaged wound.

"I did that," Tyta remarked, as though he had forgotten, "Your form was fine; it was I who used too much force."

"Father says there is no such thing," Mors reminded his sister.

"In a real combat situation, perhaps," Velix contended, pulling the boy to his feet, "In a drill, restraint is important as aggression, my lord."

Mors sighed and mumbled heatedly "I knew you would side with her."

"I have not sided with Lady Tyta," Velix claimed, "Nor have I sided with you. This was a simple accident. There is no point in placing guilt for it."

If need be, the maester was prepared to give a whole speech on the importance of making amends and moving on. Fortunately, the speech was unneeded. Those simple words were sufficient to appease both children. They were still young enough that they did not require an elaborate soliloquy.

Velix was pleased by that. It would have been a rather unusual speech, given the circumstance. At this age, most children generally blamed their siblings for any damages incurred on one another. Tyta and Mors were dissimilar in that they tended to blame themselves sooner than each other. Both of them were abnormally empathic for their age.

Some people may have thought that quaint. Then again, the Cleganes were an unusual family. If there was one person who knew that, it was Velix. He had served them longer than any other living man.

Velix was born the only son of the steward of Lord Piper of Pinkmaiden. He had had two sisters of his own. Even past childhood, his relationship with them had never been as good as the one between Tyta and Mors. That was mostly because his parents had always seemed to prefer them to him.

From the beginning, Velix's ambition had been to become a maester. He had to actively work towards that goal every step of the way. He took whatever work he could get, whenever and wherever he could find it. Most of the time, it was legitimate work. But there were some things he did which he was not proud of. Nothing illegal, but certainly not honorable, either.

It ended up taking Velix six years to save up the coin needed for both the passage to Oldtown and the Conclave's tuition. In his days as a novice, he had apprenticed under Archmaester Walgrave. Back when he was in control of all his senses. He had also worked with the esteemed Marwyn the Mage, the current Grand Maester of King's Landing.

Velix's first links had been in history, medicine and healing, ravenry, and economics. Overtime, he had also forged links in astronomy, warcraft, and smithing. His abilities were not what one would regard as exceptional, but in most areas, his skills were greater than those of the average scholar.

After doing his time as an acolyte and forging a proper chain, Velix had remained at the Citadel for a while longer. Two full years elapsed before he was finally sent somewhere. Although maesters had no say over where they were posted, Velix had hoped that he might be assigned to a holdfast in the Riverlands. Even if he went to someplace other than Pinkmaiden, he would have appreciated the opportunity to go back home.

Before he was dispatched, Velix had been aware that the odds that he would actually return to the Riverlands were quite small. As such, he had been fully willing and prepared to apply his chain elsewhere. Nevertheless, he was gravely disappointed when he ended up in the Westerlands instead. Worse yet, he ended up in the service of the smallest, newest, most insignificant house of that region: House Clegane of Clegane's Keep.

Back then, House Clegane was only in its second generation. It was also considerably poorer. Its keep was barely large enough to pass as a lone tower; its retainers numbered under a hundred. Its lands and holdings were laughably tiny. Only those willing to swallow their pride would serve such a house. But unlike everyone else who entered House Clegane's employ, the maester was not afforded the luxury of choice.

Only two other maesters had served House Clegane before Velix. The first had succumbed to an illness; the second had fallen from a horse and broken his neck.

Velix suspected a similar death awaited him, and that it would claim him soon. He would almost have welcomed such a fate. At the very least, it would have spared him the indignity of having to live and work in that sordid place.

Now, Velix was ashamed to have ever had those thoughts. He regretted them more than anything else he had ever done in his entire life.

Maester Velix did not know the exact moment his view of House Clegane changed, but he believed it was the day the house began its third generation. Somehow, the day Gregor Clegane came into the world, fortune started to smile on House Clegane.

Four and thirty years had gone by since then. In that time, House Clegane had grown in power and influence at an almost unheard-of rate. It had risen to lordly status, it had married into Dorne, it had married into the house of its Lord Paramount, and it had established trade alliances all throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Clegane's Keep was no less than nine times larger than its original size. After House Lannister and House Lefford, House Clegane was now the third richest family in the Westerlands.

Of course, like all who rose high in the world, House Clegane had to suffer its share of hardships on the road to greatness. That included the loss of its patriarch.

Tarrence Clegane had been the head of his house for nearly four decades. In the final six years of his tenure, he had contracted palsy. Velix had been the one to diagnosis him, and he had deemed the case incurable. Nevertheless, he had done all he could to make Lord Tarrence's everyday life as comfortable and normal as possible. Even as the palsy spread through more of his body, Tarrence never once complained about it publicly or privately. He had often expressed his gratitude to Velix for his invaluable services.

Velix had been there when Lord Tarrence Clegane drew his final breath. He had pronounced him dead one day in the middle of 294 A.C. It happened in the early morning, shortly after the morning meal. For a long period afterwards, the entire household mourned him, and Velix was no exception. In fact, the death of Lord Tarrence had hit him especially hard; he had known the man longer than anyone else at Clegane's Keep, including his lady wife, Daliah of House Lydden.

Lord Tarrence had always treated Velix as more than a mere vassal. He had also regarded him as a friend. Indeed, Velix felt Tarrence Clegane was one person he could count as a lifelong friend. Sometimes outliving one's closest friends is just as painful as outliving one's family. In Velix's case, it was actually worse, as he had felt more at home at Clegane's Keep than he ever felt at Pinkmaiden, and he had been far closer to the Cleganes than he had to his own family.

Be that as it may, Velix had managed to cope with the change and move on. Although Lord Tarrence was gone, his house lived on. He was very much determined to keep doing his duty. The Cleganes will need my help to guarantee the continuance of their prosperity.

Although Gregor was Tarrence's firstborn son, Sandor was the one who ultimately became his heir. He had succeeded his father at the age of four and twenty. Although the lad had initially had doubts about his capacity to replace his father, he had quickly proven himself worthy of the position of Lord of Clegane's Keep.

Sandor had already been a father of two at the time of his succession. In the five years that followed, his lady wife had given him a third child.

As it happened, Lady Obara Clegane entered the vicinity just then. She walked straight over to where Tyta and Mors were standing. She was holding their younger brother Dermot in her arms. He was still at the age where his favorite thing to do was cling to his mother, even though he had been weaned off her breast a while back.

Maester Velix dipped his head and stated respectfully "My lady."

She flashed a grin in response. It appeared to be a sultry grin, but Velix could tell it was not meant to be suggestive. I have been around Lady Obara long enough to know better. The Lady of Clegane's Keep then looked down at her two elder children and said enquiringly "Is anything amiss, Maester?"

"Not any longer," Velix apprised her. He picked up the two discarded wooden swords off the ground and displayed them to his lady, saying "Lady Tyta was teaching Lord Mors a certain offensive technique. His execution of the move was fine, but her counterattack turned out to be a little more powerful than she intended."

At that, he gestured to the gauze around Mors' left bicep. Lady Obara's eyes momentarily widened in concern.

"You needn't worry, Mother," Mors claimed, casually rubbing his bandage, "It doesn't hurt anymore."

That was enough to console Lady Obara. She lightly smirked and murmured "Of course it doesn't. You are a Clegane. Cleganes are tougher than that."

"Then let's get back to it," Ser Bronn cheekily suggested, grabbing the wooden swords from Maester Velix. He held one out to Tyta and the other out to Mors, and he added in "No sense wasting any more time."

Maester Velix glared at the younger man and muttered "Did you not hear anything I just said? For the moment, Mors cannot use his left arm in combat."

"He has two arms," Bronn drily disputed, "Long as one works, he can fight."

"I agree, Ser Bronn," Mors pronounced, taking his wooden sword from Bronn. He then turned to Velix and told him "I'll be careful, Maester. I promise I'll only use my right arm."

Velix sighed and murmured "Very well, my lord. But I would prefer not to have to treat any more injuries today."

"Then I'll go easy on him, maester" Tyta slyly uttered as she retrieved her wooden sword.

"I would rather you did not," Mors rejoined, cracking a smirk which bore an uncanny resemblance to Lady Obara's, "'Easy' is no fun."

"Now that is more like it," Bronn stated approvingly. He led the two children back to the center of the training yard, and he had them get into position. This time, Tyta took the offensive and Mors took the defensive. Once they were ready, Bronn folded his arms and asked "Alright, what shall we learn next?"

'We' meaning the children, of course. There is little Ser Bronn could learn.

Bronn was originally a freelance sellsword. His background was largely unknown. The only thing anyone knew for a certainty was that he was from neither the North nor Dorne. Velix suspected Bronn may have been a fellow native of the Riverlands, as most of the tales of his exploits took place there.

Bronn had spent much of his life roaming the Seven Kingdoms, offering his skills to whoever had need of them. Which was often the highest bidder. He believed in a strictly business approach in his line of work. As such, he had purposely avoided getting involved in any political scuffles, including Robert's Rebellion and Greyjoy's Rebellion.

Then a few years back, Lord Tyrion Lannister and his wife Lady Ellyn had decided to travel the Westerlands' countryside. One night on their trip, they stopped to rest at an inn. Bronn happened to be a lodger at that very same inn. By pure chance, the three of them had had their dinner at the same bench.

A conversation had started up between Bronn and Lord Tyrion, and a strange friendship had blossomed from it. Lord Tyrion and Lady Ellyn had ended up bringing Bronn back with them to Casterly Rock. Tyrion Lannister had been hoping to hire him as a soldier for House Lannister. Bronn was willing to take the job, given the stories he had heard of the Lannisters' tremendous wealth.

Unfortunately for him, Lord Tywin Lannister was very averse to the concept of having sellswords in his employ. There was little Tyrion could do to protest his father's decision. Luckily, Lady Ellyn managed to procure some other means of work for Bronn. She sent him to her brother's holdfast. The arrangement worked out for everyone, as the pay was nearly as good, and while Bronn would not be at the Rock, he would be on the lands immediately east of it. So Tyrion and Ellyn would still be able to correspond with him regularly.

Initially, Bronn only served the Cleganes as a household guard. However, he had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate his skills with a blade, and they were quite superior to those of any other guard in the service of House Clegane. In the span of three years, Bronn had risen from common soldier to master-at-arms of Clegane's Keep.

That was a bold and somewhat controversial move on the part of Lord Sandor. The master-at-arms was rarely anyone other than an anointed knight or a renowned swordsman of high birth. At the time of his appointment, Bronn had no title or lands to his name, and he was no one of great import. But when did 'trivial' details such as those matter to House Clegane? In any case, Bronn is a knight now. Not the type of knight one may envision when they hear the word, but a knight all the same.

Velix was loath to admit it, but Bronn was the best master-at-arms Clegane's Keep had seen since the late Ser Wallis Peckledon. Other than Bronn, three other men had served as the keep's master-at-arms after Ser Wallis. The first had died of sickness, the second had been sent to the Wall for pilfering goods, and the third had resigned his post at the insistence of Lord Sandor.

In a queer way, Ser Bronn reminded Maester Velix of himself. Both of them had started with nothing, but through constant struggle and hard work, they had both made something of their lives.

Bronn still had yet to completely renounce his habits as a sellsword. He required a little more incentive to serve House Clegane other than duty. Fortunately, his wages were not demanding. All he asked was enough to feed and shelter him, plus a bit of coin for him to spend on his leisure time. He is fortunate we could easily spare that much. Given Bronn's popularity with the local whores, Velix could imagine what he did with his money, but while he might not have approved, Lord Sandor did not object.

For all his flaws, Bronn was a brilliant swordsman. And, Velix had to admit, an excellent teacher. Tyta and Mors enjoyed his teachings, and they always learned something. Sometimes something more than tactics. He also gave them valuable lessons in realism, which Lord Sandor and Lady Obara approved of. Their children were precocious both mentally and physically; they would not have them growing up ignorant of the ways of the world. They believed Bronn was the perfect one to familiarize Tyta and Mors (and later Dermot, as well) with many of those subjects.

So long as Ser Bronn does not tell Tyta and Mors what happens when boys grow into men and girls into women, I would not be surprised if their parents will allow him to be their mentor in virtually everything.

Of course, Bronn was not the only role model for the children of Clegane's Keep. Maester Velix had raised and educated all three of Lord Tarrence's children. Now he was doing the same for all three of Lord Sandor's. While he may not have been as "exciting" as Ser Bronn, he was wiser and more esteemed. Additionally, what he taught Tyta and Mors (and eventually Dermot, too) may not have been as practical as Bronn's teaching, but it was more orthodox. And, in the long run, more versatile.

"How about blocking?" Tyta humorously suggested, grinning deviously and glancing over at her brother, "That might be useful for some of us."

Mors scoffed and uttered cockily "I would mind that mouth, sister dear."

"Why?" Tyta murmured jokily, "Because that is the only place you have a chance of hitting?"

"No," Mors rejoined wittily, "Because if you use it overmuch, you'll just make the rest of yourself too easy a target."

Lady Obara chuckled at this interaction between her two eldest children. Velix could not help but join her. A few minutes ago, Tyta and Mors had been comforting each other over an accident. Now they were exchanging japes and playfully teasing one another. That was a definite reminder that they were still children. Moreover, they are still siblings.

"You are here to trade blows, not taunts," Bronn bluntly remarked.

Mors hastily said in a serious tone "Blocking is fine with me."

Tyta shrugged and stated in agreement "Me, too, I suppose."

"Good," Bronn acknowledged. He drew his sword and waited for the two of them to give their full attention. He held his blade in the air, took a certain stance with it, and proclaimed "Now, I picked this technique up during a commission from House Estermont."

In which life might this have been? Velix doubted Bronn had ever been in the Stormlands long enough to enter the employ of the Estermonts. Still, he did not ask that question aloud. Anyhow, the source of Bronn's lessons did not matter so much as how useful and efficient they were.

As Ser Bronn instructed Tyta and Mors, Maester Velix turned to their mother. He asked politely "How are you faring on this fine morn, my lady?"

"I am well, maester," Obara Clegane replied, "And you?"

"Just fine, thank you," he informed her.

After a brief pause, she inquired "Have any ravens come in today?"

That may have seemed a vague question, given the lack of context. Even so, Velix knew what his lady was actually asking. The very same question she has asked every morning for last six days.

Velix tucked his arms into the long sleeves of his robes and shook his head. He disclosed "I am afraid there has been no further word from Lord Sandor."

Lady Obara sighed. Dermot began to fuss a little, as though he shared his mother's discomfort. She only needed a few seconds to pacify him. Once her boy was tranquil again, the Dornishwoman looked back to the maester and commented "It's been nearly a week."

One more day and it will have been. Wanting to set her mind at ease, he thought aloud "I am confident Lord Sandor is alright."

"So am I," she claimed, "But what is taking him so long?"

"He is simply being thorough," Velix conjectured. Just like always.

"He shouldn't have to be," Lady Obara debated, "After all, how hard could it be to track a group of bandits?"

"There was once a time when doing so would have been simple," Velix observed, "But Westeros is much more secure than it used to be. Thanks in large part to your brother-by-law. These days, very few people are still bold enough to attempt to make a living as a bandit. Only those who believe they can do it without being apprehended will try."

"That is quite possible," Lady Obara contended, "Even so, of all the countless villages in the Seven Kingdoms, why did one of ours have to be one of the few that were raided in recent years?"

"That, I cannot account for, my lady," Maester Velix said candidly, "All I can say is that it was bound to happen to someone eventually."

"So perhaps we simply had the misfortune of being 'someone,'" Obara theoried.

"Precisely," Velix affirmed, nodding his head, "What truly matters is that Lord Sandor is determined to bring the assailants to justice."

"Yes, it is commendable of him," Obara murmured in agreement, "I only wish it took him less time. Or, better yet, that he could have sent Ser Bronn or someone else to do it in his stead."

"He could have done that," Velix admitted, "But the bandits attacked his people. I need not remind you that any attack against a lord's people is an attack against the lord himself. As such, he is obligated to hunt down those who have wronged him and chastise them accordingly."

"Well, that is his prerogative," Lady Obara pointed out.

Velix nodded again and professed "It may not be my place to say, my lady, but if the villages surrounding Sunspear had been raided, I reckon you would do the same as your lord husband."

"You're right," Obara coincided. It is not my place? "I would have done just that. Only I would not bother bringing back their heads. I would bury them in sand until the heads were all that were visible."

Although that statement left a gruesome image in his head, Velix had to snicker at how plainly Lady Obara said it. Knowing her, she is not jesting.

By then, Bronn had finished drilling Tyta and Mors on the blocking technique he had supposedly picked up whilst in service to House Estermont. Now it was time for a trial run.

He stepped back a few paces to give them some space, and once he was clear of them, he signaled them to begin.

Mors made the first strike. He chose to cut from above. His sister was quick to parry; she intercepted the blow before it came anywhere near her shoulder. Her brother swiftly rebounded and delivered an underhand cut to her right side. Tyta managed to stop it, but by a narrower margin this time. This one almost made contact with her thigh.

While they sparred, Velix noted Obara seemed strangely content. He wondered if that was because she was intrigued by the mock combat scenario, or because they were both performing so well. Either way, she was not as restless as she had been earlier.

Velix decided to take advantage of that moment. With compassion in his voice, he told Obara Clegane "Worry not, my lady. While I have every confidence in Lord Sandor's ability to capture those bandits, in the unlikely event he does not, someone else will. The Legion without Banners would certainly be up to the task. The circumstances might be different than he planned, but the outcome would be the same."

Lady Obara reflected on that for a short while. Ultimately, she looked to the maester, smiled kindly, and said "You are quite correct, Maester. Of course, I know that no bandit can escape justice forever. To my knowledge, for the last fifteen years, no bandit has remained at large for longer than a week. As such, Sandor has likely caught up with those raiders by now."

"If he has, I would not be surprised in the least," Velix stated sincerely. After all, Lord Sandor is every bit as tenacious and resilient as his brother Lord Gregor. "I would be willing to wager that is on his way back here right now."

"We shall see," was all the Lady of Clegane's Keep said in response.

Maester Velix's hypothesis turned out to be true. Not an hour after his conversation with Lady Obara ended, the sound of a horn being blown resonated all around the grounds of the keep. That particular horn meant only one thing. The Lord is returning.

At the time, Maester Velix was still in the training yard with Lady Obara and her children. When she heard the horn, she flashed him a smile, as if to say "How about that?"

Ser Bronn clapped his hands together once and announced "Alright, that's enough for today. Go and welcome your lord father."

Tyta and Mors did not need to be told twice. They speedily returned their wooden swords to the rack that had been designated for them. Then they proceeded towards the front yard. Their mother and Maester Velix accompanied them. Bronn came along, as well. Mainly because he felt like doing so, I imagine. It is not likely he is coming to receive Lord Sandor simply out of duty.

By the time they reached the front yard, the portcullis to the main gate had been raised. Subsequently, three score mounted soldiers passed through the gate and onto the grounds of the keep. Maester Velix watched them as they gathered in the area before him. The majority of the riders appeared to be fatigued, and several of them were wounded. Thankfully, their leader was neither. Velix could determine that at a glance.

Lord Sandor Clegane was very easy to tell apart from his men. That was not solely because of his size and his face. He also wore a very distinctive helm. It bore the likeness of a hound's head, complete with ears, a muzzle, and bared fangs.

The moniker Sandor's lady wife had given him in the days of their betrothal had stuck with him. Much like his elder brother was known as "The Mountain," he was still known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as "The Hound," and he wore that label proudly.

As Lord Sandor and his party gathered in the front yard, a small crowd started to assemble in the vicinity. Maester Velix spotted Lady Daliah Clegane amongst the smallfolk. Soon enough, she noticed him and who he was with, and she made her way over to them.

When they saw their grandmother, Tyta and Mors greeted her quite merrily. And they saw her just a few hours ago. They had not seen their father in nearly a week. Velix could only imagine how affectionately they would greet him.

Once Lord Sandor's company was amassed in the front yard of Clegane's Keep, they all proceeded to dismount. Velix noticed a couple of the men were carrying some brown woolen bags. The bags were full, and they had a number of large, round lumps in them. They also emitted the foul odor of rotting flesh. The results of the mission.

Furthermore, some of the horses carried more than one rider. However, only one person from each of the shared mounts was clad in armor. The other was clad in rags or worse. He did not recognize anyone of the individuals in the latter type of garb. They must have been through an ordeal. They look terrible.

There was one man who seemed downright abysmal. This particular man was so pale that it was almost as if his body had been drained of blood.

Lord Sandor Clegane was the last to climb down from his horse. Once he was on the ground, he opened up his Hound's Helm and removed it. Some people said he looked better with it on. Never to him directly, of course. Not that he would care. It was well-known that Sandor Clegane was not ashamed of the scar that encompassed most of the right half of his face. Like his moniker, he wore it with honor, and he never allowed anyone to use it against him as an object of scorn.

After handing over his helm to his squire, Sandor saw his mother, his wife, and his children standing close-by. He grinned.

Due to the deformity on his face, it was not a wholly pleasant grin. But that mattered little and less to his loved ones. They see past the scar. Velix did, as well.

Lord Sandor hastily walked over to his family. He kissed Lady Daliah on both cheeks, and she kissed him once on the forehead. After that, he turned to Lady Obara and embraced her tightly. He was careful not to suffocate Dermot. Then he picked up Mors in his right arm and Tyta in his left arm. The two of them giggled and embraced their father as he lifted them into the air.

The Cleganes of Clegane's Keep are finally all back together once more. Velix could not help but give a smile of his own.

"Successful hunt, my lord?" Ser Bronn inquired. He could not have waited until the reunion was finished?

Lord Sandor Clegane was not annoyed, fortunately. He merely turned towards his master-at-arms and nodded, saying "Quite successful. It took time, but we managed to locate every last raider. We collected their heads to keep track."

Velix shot another glimpse at the brown bags that smelt of corpses. Just as I thought.

"Shall I have those mounted on spikes, my lord?" Bronn asked rhetorically.

"That was the intention," Lord Sandor replied drily.

Bronn scoffed a bit. Then he declared in his most official voice "It will be done, my lord."

As Bronn went to put the raiders' heads on spikes, the Hound turned to Velix and told him "Maester, we recovered the villagers the raiders took prisoner from the village. They will require your attention."

"As you command, my lord," Maester Velix asserted. He proceeded to the center of the front yard, and there he announced "If you require healing or medicine of any sort, come to me, and I will attend to you."

Despite all the activity that was currently going on in the immediate area, the maester was loud enough so that all could hear him.

Slowly, the wounded began to congregate around him. There was about sixteen of them altogether. More than half were the villagers that had been held hostage by the bandits.

"Follow me, if you would," Velix bade them. He subsequently led the group to his office in the keep.

On the way there, the man with the pale face walked alongside Maester Velix. He was clutching his arm, and he moved with a noticeable limp.

"Let me help you," Velix kindly advised him. He took the pale man's free arm and slung it over his shoulders. He held the man so that his maester's chain would not leave marks in the skin of the man's arm. After continuing in silence for a few seconds, he looked to the pale man and told him in assurance "You will be alright; I promise you that."

The pale man gradually turned his face toward Velix and murmured quietly "A maester is correct. A man will not die today."

Velix was perplexed by those odd remarks. Without trying to sound rude, he remarked "I beg your pardon, ser?"

"A man cannot say more," the pale man disclosed, "But know that a man is thankful for a maester's aid. A man shall not forget it.