Chapter 2 : It wasn't what was promised

[William's POV]

Studies indicate that vision is our least mature sense at the time of our birth. So, when the Valkyrie told me I would be reincarnated in a baby's body, I figured my eyes wouldn't be much help. Judging by my current state, it was spot on. I can barely see beyond twenty centimeters, and just an hour ago, my eyelids were glued shut.

So far, the only noteworthy thing I had managed to see was a breast. Cool, I guess, until I had to suck on it. I won't go into detail about how humiliating that was, It's bad enough knowing breast milk will be my only food source for months (long story short, I definitely don't have the same kink as Homelander).

Another consensus is that newborns have excellent hearing, and thankfully, that turned out to be true as well. I assumed my ears would give me clues to answer the most urgent questions I had ; Where was I? Who was I? When was I born? And in the regard, I have made some progress.

Well, let's just get to the bad news, not that I have much good ones to offer anyway. After listening to a few conversations, I figured out two names ; Brynden and Hoster. With that, I knew exactly what house I had landed in, but I refused to accept it at first. However, when my 'father' spoke my full name, whatever illusion I had left crumbled ; I was, unfortunately, a fucking Tully.

Why was I so upset about being a damn Tully? Well, the list is long, so I will spare myself an existential crisis by summarizing. House Tully isn't exactly the pinnacle of greatness ; Compared to the other Great Houses, their history is about as striking as a dull blade. They don't command much respect from their own vassals, they aren't particularly formidable in battle, and economically, they aren't even the richest of the Riverlands. And don't even get me started on the Riverlands (even if I'm still going to talk about it to vent).

Why do the Riverlands suck so much? The list is even longer here, but let's keep it brief for my sanity's sake ; It's one of the only two regions, alongside the Crownlands, that isn't considered a kingdom in its own right (and the Crownlands get a pass since they are literally the king's backyard). Every lord here seems to have a personal grudge against at least one of their neighbor, the best example of this being the timeless feud between House Bracken and House Blackwood. And since the region is smack in the middle of the continent, sharing borders with practically everyone, they are the battleground of choice whenever two or more kingdoms decide to go at it, and that, even if it has nothing to do with the Riverlands.

To sum it up, here's a phrase I once heard that really stuck with me ; The King eats and the Hand takes the shit. The Seven Kingdoms piss, and the Riverlands change clothes.

Trying to figure out my birth date was tricky. I knew Hoster and Brynden were both alive and sounded young, but that wasn't enough to pin down a timeline. The real clues came when I learned that my 'grandfather' and Hoster's wife were still alive. From my extensive (and not so useless anymore) knowledge of Game of Thrones lore, I remembered that Hoster's wife died shortly after giving birth to Edmure, the youngest of the Tully siblings, which was after 270 AC. My 'grandfather' had also died around the same time, giving me a rough estimate that I was born before 270 AC.

Since I haven't heard of any other children yet, I'm guessing I was born before 264 AC, the year Catelyn was born. But who knows? My very existence is already shaking up the original timeline, so I will have to be cautious with every bit of information.

And on that note, here's the first big plot change related to my existence ; I'm actually the son of Brynden Tully and a woman named Bethany, whom he married. Quite a surprise, considering that in the original storyline, Brynden was famously known as 'the Blackfish' for refusing to marry, despite his brother's insistence.

Good news or bad? I wasn't sure. On the one hand, it meant I wasn't in line to inherit the Lordship of the Riverlands (that's supposed to be the bad news here). On the other hand, Brynden was the only Tully I actually liked in the series.

I mean, I know next to nothing about my 'grandfather' or my 'aunt', so I'm reserving judgment there. Hoster, though? One look at the generation of failures he raised is enough to form a low opinion. But Brynden? He was a war hero, a master of witty comebacks, and someone whose morals seemed to align with my own.

Take the maester situation, for example. If I had been in Brynden's shoes, I would have handled it the same way.

And yes, I was aware about that little incident. The smell of blood clinging to my father's hands didn't escape my notice (my sense of smell was also pretty sharp, judging by how I picked up on that). The woman who fed me didn't seem to notice, though, too mesmerized by the coin 'my father' gave her I guess.

Anyway, the maester hadn't left a great impression on me (I wonder why?), so I would rather think about the other major event related to my birth ; My mother's death during childbirth.

When I first realized this, I got anxious. Given Tywin's hatred for Tyrion for the exact same reason, I was afraid my 'father' would hold it against me.

But he didn't. The impression I got was that he was glad I was alive, and that was all that mattered for him.

As for me, I wasn't sure what to feel. I was certainly sorry that my existence had cost my 'mother' her life, but not overwhelmingly so. Maybe she was a terrible person, maybe she wasn't. Without knowing the truth, I wasn't going to show more empathy than necessary. That would be hypocritical. I had some respect for her because she was my 'mother', even though I didn't have a great experience with the previous one, but that was about it.

"Now that you have stopped whining, I think it's time I introduce you to your grandfather." My father said sarcastically, sensing I had accepted being a Tully (I hadn't), before carrying me off somewhere.

'So I'm finally going to meet the current Lord Tully.' I thought, unimpressed. I knew little about my 'grandfather', but I knew Hoster was considered a more capable Lord than most of his predecessors, so my expectations weren't very high.

As we made our way to meet my grandfather, my thoughts drifted to the future. Questions swirled in my mind ; Would I be old enough to join Robert's Rebellion? Would I have time to meet the characters I wanted to?

Every question that came up worried me, not because of the how or the why, but the when. And for good reason ; My wishes.

Knowledge is power. I more or less share Littlefinger's opinion on that, so my first two wishes were all about that.

Just because I came from the 21st century didn't mean I had the know-how to revolutionize anything. To compensate for my ignorance, I wished to have in my head all the knowledge accumulated in my former world.

It's like having a massive, endless library right at my fingertips, where every piece of information is neatly organized and accessible whenever I need it. Imagine knowing the answer to every question that was ever answered, having the blueprint for every invention, all stored inside your brain, perfectly cataloged. The best part? There are no side effects, no headaches or confusion. If I want to know something and the information is available, I just reach out, and the answer is there, crystal clear. 

But, there are limitations. I'm in a new world now, one where the rules and laws of my previous world don't always apply. What I know might not always be relevant or accurate here. Magic exists, and history isn't set in stone. This world has its own secrets and mysteries, ones that no library, no matter how vast, could fully prepare me for.

For my second wish, I initially tried to combine it with my first one by asking the Valkyrie to give me all the knowledge from both my old world and this new one (I know, I'm a greedy bastard). She refused, even forbidding me from making a similar wish to gain knowledge about the Game of Thrones world. So, I wished for something that would significantly boost my learning capacity and prevent me from forgetting anything ; A perfect memory.

I couldn't appreciate every aspect of it yet, but basically it worked like this ; I never forget anything, not a single detail. Every word I hear, every face I see, every moment I experience is stored in my mind with perfect clarity, ready to be recalled whenever I need it in a similar way to my first wish. Learning should now be effortless, once I read something, it should stick with me forever. I don't have to struggle to remember, because everything just stays there, like a perfectly organized archive.

With that covered, my last wish was to protect myself from two of the things I feared most in the Game of Thrones universe ; Poison and magic. I then simply asked to be immune to both. The Valkyrie said no. And she shouldn't have done that, because then I asked for the same immunity plus a bonus, making her an offer she couldn't refuse (thinking back, depending on how much and in what way she wanted what I promised, maybe I was the one who got screwed, but whatever, it's a problem for the future me).

(1 month later)

[Third person's POV]

The first light of dawn bathed the towers of Riverrun in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls of House Tully's ancestral seat.

Behind these formidable battlements, a tall young woman with striking red hair walked gracefully along a stone path, her deep blue robe sweeping the ground. The vibrant garden behind her, filled with dandelions, daffodils, and roses, faded from view. All her attention was on the infant at her breast, absorbed in the moment, indifferent to the blooming beauty around her.

[Minisa's POV]

In many ways, William was different from my sons. There was a calmness about him, something my boys never had at his age. His frustrations were quiet, brief, barely a hint of a frown, while my sons would have cried loudly. Beyond those moments, he was always peaceful, a kind of calm I had wished my Hoster could find.

He only cried when he truly needed something, and once his needs were met, the crying stopped immediately. There was no lingering unhappiness, just a sparkle in his eyes, a sharpness that hinted at something deeper. It felt as though he understood more than he should for his age. This quiet intelligence set him apart.

From the moment I held him, I felt certain of one thing ; William was destined for no ordinary fate. The unusual circumstances of his birth, the birthmark under his armpit, all pointed to something extraordinary. My heart knew it, and the more I thought about it, the more I believed my instincts were right.

Perhaps he would grow to be a renowned knight, like Brynden. Perhaps he would go further, even becoming Lord of the Riverlands, given my inability to give Hoster a child living longer than three months.

"Guah, guah." William's soft babbling pulled me from these heavy thoughts. I looked down to find him smiling, his small hand reaching for my thumb, nuzzling against it. A simple gesture, but one that eased the sorrow that often lingered in my mind.

I smiled down at him, brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "My treasure." I whispered, "If you want to grow strong and healthy, you need to keep drinking." Gently, I guided his head back to my breast, encouraging him to nurse again.

"Guah." He replied, or at least, that's what I liked to think. His small mouth went back to my breast, and a quiet joy filled my heart. This was why I cherished these moments with him, why his presence made motherhood feel lighter.

It wasn't always easy, though. His tiny form reminded me of losses I tried to forget, memories that still haunted me. Yet, William had a way of chasing away the sadness with just his gaze, as if he sensed the sorrow in me and was determined to push it away.

I sighed softly, brushing my hand over his soft hair, "Sensitivity is a rare gift." I murmured, more to myself than to him, "I can only hope your future cousin will share this gift." My thoughts drifted to the child within me, the one whose future I could only pray for.

(1 hour later)

[William's POV]

After a month of life, my eyesight was still fairly poor, blurry shapes and vague shadows mostly, but it was good enough to make sense of what was happening around me. I could focus on things clearly within about four meters, and in this moment, that was all I needed.

The great hall of Riverrun was filled with every Tully, there was no food on the table and their collective attention was fixated on my grandfather. It was evident that this assembly had been called at his command.

But I, of course, was the exception. Unlike the others, I hadn't been formally summoned. Instead, I had been personally collected by my grandfather. The recognizable squeak of his wheelchair echoed through the corridors, pulling me from my crib. Wordlessly, he lifted me up, carried me through the windy halls, and brought me here.

And now, here I was, perched on his lap, my head just barely visible over the edge of the table. To my left sat Hoster and Minisa, and to my right, my father, his expression a blend of concern and fear that I might tumble from my grandfather's hold.

Trying to shake off his growing anxiety, my father broke the silence first, "Father, is this about the arrival of the new Maester?" His question was directed at my grandfather, but his eyes remained glued to me, the worry etched on his face.

Having figured out a way to create an opportunity for my father to snatch me away from my grandfather's overly affectionate hold, I flailed my arms, and let out a loud, enthusiastic "GUAH!!!"

"Has he been fed?" Hoster's voice cut through the room with a hint of irritation directed at his wife.

Minisa replied, "Yes, that's not the issue. Besides, bringing him here isn't exactly… appropriate."

From behind me came a disgruntled huff, "I'm the closest to him, and I'm not complaining." My grandfather grumbled, his displeasure evident. It wasn't a surprising reaction coming from him, as the proud president and founding member of my fan club, he was always finding excuses for me.

Seeing his chance, my father took advantage of my 'agitated state'. In a swift motion, he lifted me from my grandfather's lap, not giving him time to protest, "I haven't seen him all day ; He must miss me." My father said casually as he took back his seat, holding me in his arms.

As soon as I was nestled in my father's embrace, I ceased my little performance. But from behind, I could feel the heat of my grandfather's gaze, almost searing into my back. Turning my head, I caught his eye. His lips, partially hidden behind his thick auburn beard, mouthed a single word ; Traitor.

With me safely cradled in my father's arms, my grandfather cleared his throat, commanding the room's attention once more, "This is not about the Maester ; He's still on his way from Oldtown." He began, his voice low and grave, "I have gathered you here to discuss the future trajectory of this House…"

The expression on his face unsettled me. It was cryptic and left me with a sense of unease. I had a dreadful suspicion of where this conversation was heading.

"Father, are we talking about succession?" Hoster asked eagerly, his voice betraying his excitement. He was quick-witted but not nearly perceptive enough to grasp the weight of the situation. A lord of barely 45 years considering stepping down was unusual, especially for a man who saw no problem managing his House's affairs for over two decades while confined to a wheelchair.

My father, on the other hand, was sharper. He cut through the tension with a simple, direct question, "Father... does this have to do with your health?"