Chapter 13

“Milord, milord, please rise,” Lord Edmure Tully heard as he rose from his bed, thinking himself still in his dungeon cell.

“Is it breakfast already? If so, might I have fewer maggots this time with the bread?” the groggy nobleman asked as his eyes adapted to more light than expected.

“Why would milord want maggots at all? We generally try to keep those out of bread, m’lord,” a gentle voice, very feminine answered him, in the bedchamber where he lay.

“What, where am I?” Lord Edmure asked his companion, awakening the sight of someone definitely not a Frey jailer or guard.

“Milord is in his bedchamber, temporary quarters here at the Twins, unless he should desire to tarry, of course. That is his prerogative, of course, as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. The Twins remain in his gift, until such time as he should deign to choose a new Lord or Lady of the Twins. With Lord Frey’s murder, along with the recent mass poisoning of all heirs male, House Frey would seem to consist solely of women these days,” the rather pretty young thing told her new lord, even if a bit fearful of him now.

“And you would be?” Edmure asked, still a little confused by things now that he was free from his dungeon and treated as an honored guest in the same castle that was once his gaol.

“Marleigh Rivers, milord. I’m a bastard daughter of Black Walder, milord. Which makes me your niece by marriage. I hope that isn’t any trouble for you. We’ve done our best to make you comfortable while you rested. We’ve shaved and bathed you in your sleep, too. Lady Tully’s orders, of course,” the damsel answered him, still a bit timidly due to the knowledge that he had cause for vengeance against her family.

“Lady Tully?” Edmure showed more puzzlement, as he wasn’t sure which lady that would be.

“Milord, she means me,” Roslin Tully, nee Frey, spoke as she entered the bedchamber at last, guiding their young, very quiet son by the hand, “take a good look at your son, if you will. I’ve taken the liberty of naming him Hoster, after his grandfather.”

Edmure looked down in true astonishment as his own wife led the child to him, some years old, no longer an infant, tears now streaming down her face. The child was male, sure enough, and thus heir to House Tully and all of its possessions, great or small, arguably heir to House Frey and its holdings as well. Roslin looked up now at her husband, choking back the tears as she watched hold their son at last.

“Milord, I humbly seek your pardon. My father and my house have wronged you, my husband, and thus they have wronged me as well. I wished so long that I could set you free, and now I have. I was not able to set you free, but now I am. Please, milord ... my husband. Please do not hate me, your wife, for this. You swore to protect me, in the light of the Seven, when you put your cloak over me, and... , “ Roslin wept as she watched her husband brushing their son’s hair away from his face.

“Roslin ... my hate, my anger, it is not against you. I cannot hate you. You’re the one good thing that happened to me at the Red Wedding, well, you and our son. Hoster Tully, of Houses Tully and Frey, the one true heir to both houses. The next boy, though, gets named Brynden, are we clear on that?” Edmure told Roslin, unable to withstand her tears, her remorse, and her apparent humility.

“Thank you ... thank you, milord. Thank you, husband. You still desire me, then? You will not cast me aside?” Roslin dared to hope that Edmure might still want her after all.

“You freed me. You carried my son in your belly, bore him for me, and have nourished him. You named him, in the light of the Seven, after my father. You raised him all of these years in my absence. You brought him to me. You did not order this massacre of my kindred and my nephew’s men. I do not blame you for this. I do wish to know who perished and who lived among your father’s kinsmen. If any yet live, they must account for their crimes before the laws of the Gods and men.

“I regret the necessity, but a vassal murdered the sister of his lord, butchered his own king and queen, and imprisoned his own lord, his own son-in-law, in a dungeon for no crime other than thwarting his lawless ambitions. Your father broke guest right, which is a sacred law in the sight of the Seven. He had shared bread and salt with Robb Stark, Queen Talisa, with me, and my sister, Catelyn Stark. We had guest right. We were supposed to be safe. His heirs male must be brought to justice,” Edmure warned Roslin as he handed their infant son back to her.

“The only male heir left to my father is our boy, milord. The rest were slaughtered by your niece, Arya Stark. She cut my father’s throat, carved up Black Walder and Lothar and put them into meat pies, served them to him just before she slew him, and she poisoned every remaining man of any worth in House Frey. She served them poisoned wine, arbor gold to be precise. You would not harm our son, would you?” Roslin informed her husband now, seeing his face grow ashen as a result.

“I would never harm our boy, sweet wife. But how do you know that it was my niece?” Edmure asked Roslin, truly shocked the youngest of his nieces could be capable of such a thing.

“One of my sisters described her after she removed a mask in the form of my father’s face. She described her precisely as your niece, Arya Stark, who spoke of ‘winter coming for House Frey.’ Apparently, she also said that ‘the North remembers.’ It was a massacre, a bloodbath, an act of bloodthirsty vengeance. She seems to have taken up the craft of the Faceless Men, the ruthless assassins of Braavos. Does this mean, then, that the hand of revenge can be stayed? Has there been enough blood between Houses Tully and Frey?” Roslin pleaded with her husband for mercy toward the women and children of her house.

“Then the retribution of House Tully shall not be executed upon House Frey, as we do not punish wives and children for the crimes of husbands and fathers. The Warrior demands justice, but the Mother shows mercy, does She not? House Frey has already paid the highest possible price for its role in the Red Wedding, as the male line is now extinct. The innocent women and children shall be spared. However, some sort of vengeance is still demanded. What has happened to House Bolton? I have not heard any news of this matter, so please tell me of this,” Edmure Tully asked his wife for more news of what happened while he rested.

“Milord, you have been unconscious longer than you realize. Your body was wracked, malnourished, and so you needed rest. While you rotted in gaol and then slept, House Bolton perished. Roose Bolton was slain by his own bastard, Ramsay Snow, whom he had made his lawful heir as Ramsay Bolton. My sister, Walda Frey, was murdered, with the unborn son or daughter of Roose Bolton, by Ramsay as well. Then Ramsay himself was defeated by Jon Snow, who returned from the Wall to take command of the armies of the North, allied to some Wildlings and the Knights of the Vale. It is said that Ramsay, who had married Sansa Stark, was killed by his own hounds at her command. Jon Snow was then acclaimed King in the North,” Roslin explained to her husband now.

“Sansa married him, and then put him to death? She is a far worse wife than you could ever be, but he is a traitor, so I have no pity for him. The Gods have punished Houses Frey and Bolton more harshly than I ever could for breach of guest right and fealty. Who convinced the Knights of the Vale, who serve my nephew, Lord Robin Arryn of the Vale, to come to the aid of House Stark and the North against the Boltons? Was it Lord Royce?” Edmure asked Roslin at this point, truly surprised at this news.

“That was the counsel of Lord Petyr Baelish, now called Littlefinger, who has been Protector of the Vale of Arryn in the Eyrie ... and it was at the call of Sansa Stark, who appealed to them for aid. The last I heard, he is now a trusted counselor to the Lady of Winterfell, who is now Wardeness of the North. Jon Snow has been ... hailed as ... Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, due to a marriage with Daenerys Targaryen, as well as the report that he is in fact Aegon Targaryen, the rightful, lawful son of Rhaegar Targaryen, not Ned Stark’s bastard after all. He is a Stark, however, though his mother, Lyanna Stark. He has married his own aunt, it seems. The ravens are spreading the word to all and sundry in the Seven Kingdoms these days,” Roslin announced to her husband while drying her tears.

Somewhat weary of dispensing news, Roslin nonetheless told Edmure whatever he needed to hear, as these were clearly matters that he needed to know in order to make his mark now that he was Lord of Riverrun and head of House Tully again. She wanted to be a helpful wife, after all. She still felt a great deal of sadness, remorse, guilt, and shame over what her father had done to her husband all these years. It was a stain on her family name and on her conscience, she knew that much.

Edmure might seem a bit callous and cold, but at the moment, who could blame him? He had fallen asleep in a dungeon, sickly and underfed, only to awaken just now with so much of the world changed around him. He had only now gotten to see his firstborn son. He only once had a chance to lie with his own bride, and that was right before being imprisoned by his in-laws. He had great cause to feel injury, rage, and hatred. Roslin reproached herself for even thinking slightly ill of her husband’s outrage and impatience for news.

“And just what happened with Elia Martell, then, because the last I knew of, Elia was Rhaegar’s wife, not Lyanna. Was the marriage annulled first, before he took Lyanna as his bride, because that is the only way that Jon Snow could be the lawful Targaryen heir. Otherwise, if he was born out of wedlock, he’d still be a Snow, or a Waters, or a Sand, if born in Dorne, for instance,” Edmure asked Roslin to clarify.

“It was annulled, apparently. A Wildling woman, apparent concubine to Samwell Tarly, the new maester to Winterfell, discovered among documents that he showed her in Oldtown, that High Septon Maynard at the time approved the annulment and Prince Rhaegar wed Lyanna in secret. Maester Tarly is the elder and surviving son of Lord Randyll Tarly, oddly enough, given that Lord Tarly and his younger son, Dickon Tarly, were both burned alive for refusing to bend the knee to Daenerys Targaryen recently. This was prior to the marriage of Jon Snow with Daenerys Targaryen, though perhaps he wasn’t aware of the burning yet.

“You see, milord, that after the Lannisters sacked Highgarden, with Lord Tarly’s aid, Daenerys Targaryen lost her patience and attacked the baggage train carrying much of the plunder, along with many of the guards. She only slaughtered the rearguard of the Lannister host, but she certainly crushed them and thus weakened the Lannister cause. Cersei got the gold, but not the grain, as that was burned up. Many might go hungry in the Reach and in the Crownlands soon, especially in King’s Landing. That will make it more difficult for the Lannisters to hold King’s Landing, but at the moment, Cersei is still Queen there, with Ser Jaime, her brother, as her chief commander, especially with Lord Tarly’s death. Ser Jaime barely escaped the Battle of the Goldroad with his life, with the aid of Ser Bronn of the Blackwater,” Roslin continued, knowing that this news about Cersei being Queen would jolt her husband, but was necessary nonetheless.