Chapter 41

The Neck,
Five Days Later...

The trout sigil of House Tully was unmistakable, of course. With it came more than a few hundred knights, many of them hedge knights freshly wed to Frey and Rivers girls as prizes probably better than they would otherwise have for at least another year. Lord Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands (the title used to be “Lord Paramount of the Trident,” but Edmure preferred a stronger association with Riverrun itself), rode eagerly into camp at the head of his bannermen, having achieved a near impossible feat with remarkable speed: marrying off every last one of the Frey and Rivers girls that he didn’t want for himself. Some even labeled him “Edmure the Matchmaker,” a somewhat left-handed compliment at his skill of arranging such unions.

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Edmure Tully himself ... did you leave Lady Roslin behind, my lord? I hear that she is a great beauty, as are your mistresses,” Ser Jorah Mormont, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard (and Queensguard if you think about it), greeted Lord Edmure as he arrived.

“Yes, I am loath to depart from her company, but at present, I do not wish to subject her to such dangers as the Great War now presents to us. She is carrying my child, after all, and now she serves as Lady of Riverrun, ruling it in my absence. I am glad that this separation, unlike the last one, isn’t subject to the whims of her father and brothers, not to mention Lord Tywin Lannister. If the Gods grant us victory, then I shall return home to her and never depart from her again,” Lord Edmure assured Ser Jorah.

“Yes, well, I had to leave behind the couple that chose to stay in King’s Landing, not that I minded too much. I, like you, am presently alone ... at least for now. There is a time for such pleasures, for wenching and such, and there is also a time for war. This is definitely the latter, of course. I shall miss Rendal and Raina, but they are happy, I hope,” Ser Jorah thought of how each of the main parties to the recent orgies had focused their efforts more on the war of late.

The potions had stopped coming, as the Red Priestesses were gone elsewhere now, with Melisandre in the Riverlands and Kinvara in Dorne to birth their shadow demons. Ser Jorah was convinced that this was their main role and any debauchery that followed was simply a bonus to them. The King and Queen were hardly celibate, but confined their lechery to themselves and Missandei. Ser Jorah wasn’t blind to that fact in the least. Things were far tamer in that sense. Well, for now, at any rate. That was a wonderful holiday in King’s Landing, but it wasn’t to last forever, was it?

As for Tyrion, who knew? It was hard to say with the Imp. He definitely still drank like a fish, but whores were harder to come by of late, on this northward march that was much more about marching to face the enemy, the Army of the Dead. At least the drinking seemed to keep his mind sharp, a paradox that still bothered and puzzled Ser Jorah. It was, after all, the opposite of what wine did to most other men. Then again, Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, the Half-Man, the Lord of Casterly Rock, the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King and Queen, was law unto himself, was he not? He had turned against his own family, killed his own father, and made war against his own sister to succor Daenerys Targaryen, Ser Jorah’s own Queen, his beloved Khaleesi.

Then again, the Imp was about to get married, wasn’t he, to none other than Lady Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North? That was a prize for sure. Also, he had enough gold and good company that any whores en route would be drawn to the famous Hand, anyway. He wasn’t likely to be short of companions, was he? He didn’t have to train the new Kingsguard, either, as Ser Jorah did. The six other men of the Kingsguard were a full-time job, or so it now seemed to Mormont. It would take a while for these youths to be up to the challenge of guarding the Lord and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms with their lives.

A Lord Commander’s work was never done, Ser Jorah thought as he led Lord Edmure into the presence of Their Graces, King Jon Snow and Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Ser Jorah still felt a pinch of jealousy, knowing that the Queen was said to be pregnant to the King, but that was just how things had turned out. Jon Snow was already clearly a fine King as well as general, and he more than earned the love and admiration of the Mother of Dragons, his own aunt. Oh, yes, she was a Targaryen through and through, including the preference for her own blood, so her own nephew had a significant advantage, anyway.

“Lord Varys, I see, and Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the King and Queen,” Lord Edmure acknowledged both men (or the eunuch and dwarf, but who was counting).

“Yes, I am Master of Coin these days, rather than Master of Whispers. No longer the Spider, I’m afraid. This is Lady Missandei of the Isle of Naath, the new Mistress of Laws and also Lady of Dragonstone. She has risen far above her past bondage, which is a good omen for the future. And you are Lord Edmure Tully, I presume, Lord of Riverrun as well as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, are you not?” Varys introduced Missandei to Edmure, of course.

If Missandei was a bit nervous and squirmed a little, it was due to a brief tryst with Tyrion, which she didn’t know if she could inform everyone without making it awkward for them. She had been intimate only with the King and Queen of late, but they had encouraged her lust for the Imp, mostly because it seemed to them that Tyrion thought better when he got his cock wet. She just didn’t want to make Ser Jorah too envious and she feared that his loss of his two companions and temporary celibacy might have that effect. She had no desire for Mormont, though that was nothing personal, only for the King, Queen, and Hand ... and for Grey Worm, of course.