Chapter 39
In one of the rooms at Riverrun, a woman with fiery hair stood in front of half a dozen gathered men, clutching a child in her arms and feeding at her breast like a babe. Her eyes were red and swollen as she gripped the child in her arms much tightly.
"The boy and the girl," she began as she looked at the half a dozen men and commanded with sheer hate and vehemence.
"I want them killed. I want the both of them killed!"
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TYRION LANNISTER
Despite her age, his niece was still a Royal Princess. And that meant she had to be afforded all the luxuries, and protocol that came with being a member of the Royal Family.
The Tully's had arranged a feast in her honor, one which had gone as well as one would have expected. It was good to see his niece flourishing in the absence of her mean elder brother, and Tyrion was learning that the girl had a quick wit to her and was smarter than one realised.
Even during this whole affair, she had afforded herself rather well, despite her age, as she mingled with the Stark daughters and the other ladies from the nearby lands that had come to pay their respects to her.
However, one notable absence from the feast had been the second Tully sister, and despite the two days he had spent here, none in the retinue had yet to lay their eyes on Lysa Tully.
The widowed Tully sister had arrived at the castle a few days ago but had locked herself in her room, not even coming out to meet her ailing and dying father, which made him rather curious about the real purpose of her visit.
The condition of the old Lord Tully was much worse than had bene told, and he was surprised that the man was still alive. But if the maesters words were anything to go by, he would not be for much longer.
They had feasted the day they had arrived, and he had spent the entire next day scouring the castle, but as the third day dawned, he found himself walking through the yard to the sound of a rather serious argument.
"I cannot take you with me, Princess," the Stark boy said, pleading as his niece stood opposite him, cutting an imposing figure with her arms folded across her chest. From the distance, it was as if looking at a younger Cersei, as he heard her complain.
"For the hundredth time, it is Myrcella," she corrected the boy haughtily before continuing.
"And why can't you take me with yourself?" and the boy sighed as he shook his head.
I believe it will always be Princess, and you must understand that Harrenhall is currently in ruins. It will be neither safe nor appropriate for you to visit the castle in its current state," and that told him about the gist of their disagreement as Myrcella shook her head.
"No. It is to be my castle as well, I want to see...."
"Is that a lover's spat I hear?" he cut in, making them both turn towards him, as Myrcella's face flushed.
"Uncle!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she thought that she may have found herself an ally. Alas! She was wrong
"Look, he is leaving for Harrenhall and is leaving me back here," she complained, and though she was adorable, he had to speak the truth.
"And he is right to." his words made her shoulders droop, as betrayal laced her eyes and Cregan sighed in relief.
"See, the castle is in no state to entertain or house anyone. Let me go and evaluate its condition, and ensure that the reconstruction is started. I will take you to it myself," he said, trying to soothe her, but she was not convinced.
"No!" she argued.
"You promised your mother, Myrcella. And neither me or your uncle Jamie will let you break it," and her mood soured, as she groaned and huffed.
"Why? WHY! WHY!" she complained, stumping her feet in rage before she walked away, leaving a sighing Cregan alone with him.
"Thank you," Cregan said as they both walked towards the crates stacked on the side while the servants prepared the horses and carriages.
"You are welcome, but this is but a glimpse of your future," he warned the boy, whose head snapped in his direction as Tyrion shrugged.
"She looked just like her mother right now, and you and I both know our Queen very well," he said, and he felt the boy shudder at the thought before he replied.
"Seven spare me!" he exclaimed, and he chuckled at his own words.
"I am afraid it is too late for that," and indeed. Cersei had tried many times to persuade Robert to change his mind about the match. She had even tried to leverage his newfound indulgence, but nothing she had said or done managed to sway Robert's mind.
And the whole affair with Baelish had been the last nail in the coffin, as Robert made the announcement for the match and awarded the boy Harrenhall for his services, making him one of the more prominent lords of the realm with a single edict.
A lord's worth was defined by the size of his castle and lands, and by that definition, there were few lords who could compete with the Lord of Harrenhall. Despite its ruined state, it was one of the largest castles in the realm, and the lands it controlled were equally vast/
And the Gold that had been granted to the boy would serve him well if he spent it wisely enough. And one thing he could say about the boy was that he was wise.
"So, you are leaving already?" he asked, and Cregan nodded.
"Yes, there is nothing for me to do here. Mother wishes to spend some more time with Grandfather, and I believe I can make a better use of this time by visiting Harrenhall," and it was a wise choice.
"Well, then I do hope your retinue has a place for one more person," for though he had been asked by his father to return to Casterly Rock, he doubted that the man cared enough about him to feel his absence anymore.
"You want to join me," and he nodded.
"Of course, I want to see the great ruins of Harrenhall for myself before you change it all. That castle is one of the wonders of this world, and I would be a fool to miss the chance," and he was no fool.
"But what of your father's missive?" he waved away the boy's concern.
"Let him be. I doubt he misses me so much that he would mind it if I were late to return to Casterly Rock by a few weeks," and so Cregan shrugged.
"Then I am sure that we can find a place for you, but I know that you will miss certain pleasures there. The castle is lacking in many ways," and he understood his insinuation about the lack of physical entertainment.
"No matter," he said, just as a servant brought them the wine, he had asked for earlier.
"I know plenty of ways to keep myself entertained..."
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A few hours later, with his luggage all loaded, the caravan began its journey, and his brother came to see him off, just as the Starks and his own niece came to see of Cregan.
"So, you are leaving me all alone in this hell hole," Jamie complained, and Tyrion laughed.
"I wouldn't say that in front of Tully's," he warned him, as Jamie made a face.
"I am not an idiot," he said, and he seemed much tense and tired.
"What happened?" he asked, and his brother rubbed his face.
"It's the Vale," he answered, and it reminded him of Robert's other blessing, where he had made Jamie the Warden of the East until Jon Arryn's heir came of age. And with that title came the responsibility of keeping the King's peace in those rocky lands.
"What of it?" he asked.
"There has been some infighting there, but I know nothing of those barbarians. " I thought I could speak with the Lady of the Vale and have her deal with it all, and yet the woman refuses to see me at all," he said, and that was the strange behavior he had noticed as well.
"She is recently widowed," and Jamie shrugged.
"Not so much. And it is her lands and problems that I have been saddled with. I don't know what was going through the King's head as he gave me this responsibility," and Tyrion could offer him little solace.
"Well, if I were you, I would write to Lord Yohan Royce. The man is one of the older and well-established Vale lords and knows the lands and the people better than anyone. But in the end, this is your misery to suffer. I, on the other hand, am going to go and visit the ruined remains," and so he offered his hand one last time as Jamie shook it with vigor.
"Don't die on me, brother," and he smirked.
"I won't," and so he turned away and saw that Cregan was already climbing up his horse and was accompanied by a strange lanky man, a thin man wearing a grey robe, similar to a Maester's robe.
"Who is this friend of yours?" he asked, much interested in the little group that seemed to be gathering around the boy. The sell-sword he had hired, Bronn, was an interesting man as well, and the others following him were equally interesting.
Tyrion also knew that the boy was close friends with Thoros of Myr, and now another new face had emerged around him.
"Well, he is the new castellan for Harrenhall, Qyburn," and the thin, hunched main with greying hair bowed slightly.
"Greetings, my lord. It is an honor to meet you," he said evenly, yet what he found most surprising was the lack of disgust and interest that often plagued people's eyes when they met him.
The man had none of it in his gaze.
"Qyburn, are you a Maester?" he asked. The man smiled and shook his head.
"Not anymore, my lord, but I am a learned man," and that much was obvious. The man had a shrewd look to him, much like that sell sword, and this was becoming quite a trend as he saw Cregan gathering a special group around himself.
"You make strange friends, Cregan," he said, though on second thought, he realised that he was one of them as well.
"Do I?" the boy asked as Tyrion gave him a subtle nod before turning towards the learned man.
"Well, I wish you well," he said to the man, who for some reason made him uneasy but seemed to be an interesting character nonetheless.
"Now, where is that sell-sword of yours?" he asked, knowing that the man would make fine company for the journey.
"Bronn?" Cregan asked, and he missed the slight glint in his eyes at the mention of that name.
"That very one," he answered.
"He is just a bit ahead," Cregan answered as Tyrion mounted his horse. The man had some rather unique stories in his mind, stories that he had no qualms sharing, all for the price of a good ale or wine.
"Join us," he offered, but Cregan shook his head.
"I will, later. I need to talk with Qyburn for some time," he said, and he shrugged as he raced forth.
"So be it...."
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CREGAN STARK
In this treacherous world, one could not rely on morality or shining knights to survive. No, the reality was that one needed cunning, cruelty, and even some treachery to survive and thrive.
And so, Cregan knew that to grow his power and influence, he needed to surround himself with men capable of all that, while remaining loyal to him. And so, with him now having access to a large amount of gold, land, and resources, he had begun gathering them.
Thoros was first, and through him, he had surrounded himself with a small but lethal group of men. He had even led Thoros to Bronn, and now these very men had helped him reach out to Qyburn.
He was perhaps one of the most learned and interesting people alive in this day and age, and was the perfect person to counter someone like Varys. Speaking of the Spider, the man had vanished into thin air, and Cregan had planned to target the man after Baelish, for despite his services, he could never truly be sure about the man's loyalty.
And so, it was best if he were to be rid of him. It was why he had planned to incriminate the man with using Baelish's death, but somehow the man had sensed his plan and had vanished into thin air.
And in his absence from the capital, the King had made a rather bold move, dismissing his own brother from the Council, with a disgruntled Renly Baratheon leaving for Storm's End with his lover-squire, Loras Tyrell.
The King wished to do the same for Stannis Baratheon, yet the Lord of Dragonstone had been defiant to the King, refusing his command to return a record fifth time, much to his trepidation.
The journey to Harrenhall was quick, as Cregan found himself spending most of it with Qyburn, as the learned man picked his mind about a dozen subjects ranging from medicine, philosophy to history.
For that was the price of his loyalty. Knoweledge, and Cregan had much knowledge even though he remained helpless in making use of much of it by himself. But with Qyburn alongside him, he could do much.
Already, the man had shown him several designs for a new plough and other simple machines that he had mentioned, and he seemed much intrigued by the simplicity and applications of fungi and other compounds in the treatment of diseases.
He knew the reason for his dismissal from the Citadel and was aware that there was a high chance the man would try to do so again. However, in the end, he could have no better ally than him.
"It truly is magnificent," the man added from the side, even though that would not be the word he would use.
And significant was a word too small for Harrenhall. He had heard and read about its size, but seeing it for himself was another matter. The castle was beyond anything he could describe. Its walls were thick enough to mount carriages, and its towers, five in number, were so tall and dark that he had to crane his neck to look at them.
The signs of dragon fire yet remained as Cregan and his retinue rode through the Halls. And it seemed like the work had begun already as per his instructions, as he could see men wheeling stone and lumber into the castle as Cregan rode into it.
A small gathering of men had come out to welcome him, led by a man clad in white armor, who supported the Whent banner. He was an old man with greying hair, and as Cregan jumped off of his horse, the man knelt alongside the rest of the men.
"Rise," he said, and the men rose, as he realised that this entire castle was now his. And though much of it was in ruin, he could envision a future where the castle could be somewhat dangerous.
"Who may you be, good ser?" he asked the man.
"I am Sert Willis Wode, a landed knight previously sworn to Lady Shella Whent. Now, I am in your service, my lord." She was the only member of the House of Whent that had lived after the rebellion and had no heirs.
"Good, then show me to my solar. There is much we need to discuss and even more that we need to do...."
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