Vows
Lord Petyr Baelish, inside Riverrun
Petyr had made a slight miscalculation at dinner. He had expected lord Rickard to be a brute like his son, and instead he got something else. Petyr could deal with any Southern lord and the Northman never played the games they did and failed when they tried. He assumed that their leader would be just as stupid.
How wrong he was.
As he contemplated a way to strike back and make sure Cat didn’t journey North, a hand wrapped itself against his throat and he felt his head almost break as he was slammed against a nearby wall.
“If that mockingbird won’t sing,” Brandon Stark gave a raspy growl. “You had a lot of fucking nerve there Baelish but look at you now.”
Petyr struggled with all his might but he started to feel lightheaded. His vision was blurry but he could just make out the large shape in front of him. He almost screamed when his throat began to burn from where the hand was. He could smell the flesh burn and it overwhelmed him.
“I can’t believe I was so stupid as to listen to you. What I endured in Kings Landing will stay with me for the rest of my life. But yours is at an end.”
Petyr had reached for the short sword that belonged to his father and drew it. He swung blindly, hoping to relieve the fire on his throat. Somehow he missed and the blade was taken from him.
“You won’t be needing that.”
Petyr could feel the Valyrian blade enter his chest and he could feel blood enter his lungs. He struggled to breathe even more and his body started to go slack.
Not like this, He thought desperately before darkness consumed him for the last time.
Ser Brynden Tully, the main court yard of Riverrun
Brynden Tully stood in the shadows and watched as the man he knew to be Brandon Stark drag a body towards the fishing gate.
“Out for an evening stroll, Lord Stark?” Brynden snorted when Brandon Stark stopped what he was doing and went for his sword. “You should learn to mind your surroundings lad, I could have been anyone.”
“Ser Brynden, I don’t –“
“Spare me, I know who you are and I know that you know of my knowing,” Brynden rolled his eyes at what he just said. “Despite all that knowledge, I am here to help you if you need it. I already have if you take a look around.”
Brandon did so and relaxed slightly, “I thought it was in between a new shift.”
“It is, but I told the boys to take a moment for themselves and I would take watch.” He gestured to the body. “Baelish?” Brandon nodded slightly. “Good,” Ser Brynden moved to open the gate.
“Why are you helping me, this is your brothers man.” Brandon grabbed the body's upper half and Brynden grabbed the other with a snort.
“He was his own man.” And I'm sure that he was the one who dishonored my niece. Brynden thought with a scowl. Both of his nieces and the boy were close at one point, it wouldn't surprise him if both Lysa and Petyr had shared a bed.
They both lowered the body in slowly and the strong current took it away. “He'll probably be near Pinkmaiden by the morning before the current slows down.” Brynden turned back to the younger man and eyed the other blade on his belt. Brandon wordlessly drew it and held it out for him to take.
“Valyrian steel,” Brynden murmured as he held the blade by the titan shaped pommel. “I wonder where the little shit got this from.”
“It was his fathers,” Brandon rasped, closing the fishing gate. “And his fathers before that. Its called the Titan's Blade. He mentioned it when he tried to kill me the first time.”
“First time?”
“I left Riverrun because he told me that my sister was kidnapped. I rode with the fury of the wolf and with the brains of a half wit. I made the mistake of taunting the dragon but it was he who helped point me in that direction.”
“So this is revenge then?” Brynden didn't blame the lad to be honest. What happened to Brandon was a disgrace.
“I won't lie and say that I didn't enjoy killing him, but its much more than that.”
And you know it are the words left unsaid. Brynden nodded and handed the blade back to the younger man. The Blackfish could see the gleam in Petyr's eyes during dinner and he knew that the boy loved Cat the most of the Tully girls. He was a shit fighter, as evidenced by the scar that ran from his navel to collarbone, but he was smart. He may have been planning something and who knows what would happen if he was given the chance to enact those plans.
“You plan on giving that to your boy,” Brynden nodded at the sword. “What was his name again?”
“Markus, he's named after his mother's cousin, Mark Ryswell.” Brandon frowned slightly and looked away. “And I have no idea as to what I'll do with this sword but Markus will not have it. His mother has other plans for him.”
“Good ones I hope.” Brynden asked sharply.
“Are you going to lay into me like your brother attempted to do to my brother?” Brandon's eyes are cold, even as he spoke softly. “You need not worry in any case, Markus is just a boy.”
“And boys become men when they grow up, what kind of a man will your boy grow to be?”
“Don't -”
“I've fought alongside nobles and smallfolk and bastards alike. We all bleed red boy.” His gruff words stopped Brandon from speaking. “I've had friends in all three groups. Good people, all of them, but you do know what we fought together in don't you?”
“The War of the Nine Penny Kings.”
“Also known as the War of the Nine Petty Bastards. All nine Pirate Kings form the Stepstones claimed to have blood ties to the Great Houses of Westeros and they wanted a piece of these lands. No one really bothered to look into their claims outside of a few but in the end it didn't matter to those who dislike bastard children.
“My brother is an arse, that much is true. Your father is right that there were no wars fought in the name of a bastard child up north. But the First Men were men all the same. They had the same desire that the Andals did when it came to what was right. I know that it will be difficult for my niece to be accepted, her son even more so. Why wouldn't the Northern Lords just follow your son instead of hers?”
“Because he's not true born!” Brandon snapped with a pained look. “He could have been. I would have married his mother to make it right and renounced whatever claim I had to Winterfell so that Ned or Benjen could marry your niece.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because as long as I was alive, Hoster Tully wouldn't have accepted anything less than a first born son. And Ned loved another.” Brandon looked away. “I don't even love my sons mother but I would have done right by her. Our son wouldn't want for anything and I would have found him a good match. Some lords are only gifted with daughters instead of sons after all.”
His face became hard like stone, “I love that boy, always will. I will father no other children, this I swore to my father on Ice and my ancestors. I will take no wife and hold no lands. I have sworn to protect all the children in my family including that of my brothers. Should anyone harm them or try to, they will taste the edge of my blade.”
“And if they should seek to place your son in your nephews place?”
“Then they die too but my son will not be killed or cast aside. It is not the way of our family or people.”
“I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort,” Brynden rolled his eyes. “The thought of killing or abandoning a child sickens me but you and your father haven't thought about this enough.”
He saw that some of the guards started to return so he just waved a hand, “We'll speak of this later, maybe while we're on the road together.”
“You intend to travel with us?”
“Of course, I'll not suffer my brothers foolishness for another day. Hopefully Edmure can survive without me.” Considering how soft the boy was and how simple he could be, Brynden doubted it but he needed a change of scenery. Plus it would be good to watch over Cat and her son. It would stop him from wanting to strangle his brother at least.
Lady Rhaella Targaryen, on the Dragons Tooth, Narrow Sea
Rhaella looked down at her daughter with a smile. It was touch and go there for a moment but she was glad that she would be able to hold her daughter. Her son was curled at her side, having finally been able to see her even though he demanded to see her hours ago.
She grimaced as she looked down at her only remaining son. He was acting out of character and the stress of the situation had clearly gotten to him. She was also glad that she would be able to keep an eye on him. She almost shuddered at the thought of how her death would affect him.
“Ser Willem,” She called the knight standing at her door. “Make sure no one disturbs us.”
“Yes my queen,” The Knight bowed and left, not noticing the frown on Rhaella's face. She was queen no longer, her house was in ruins and the throne of her family now had a pretender on it.
Yet she couldn't help but be glad for the reprieve. After all the years of dealing with her husband. After all her dealings with some of the idiots in power, she was glad.
But the price that came with it was too steep. Her son was gone, his wife and children gone. And for what? Two people not abiding by their duty? Rhaella was no fool, the little Northern girl was a fighter, she wouldn't have let herself be taken and her son would never resort to kidnapping anyone.
She sighed, it was over now and she needed to prepare for the future. The first order of business would be to connect with her Blackfyre cousins in Tyrosh and then go from there. She also needed to find out if she had another grandchild and have them brought to her. Bastard or not, the child would have the blood of the Dragon, and it would be a terrible thing for them to be alone in the world.