Riverrun
The lands surrounding Riverrun
Spring in the Riverlands meant mud, and this spring had yet to disappoint. The morning held a chill, and the slop of brown mud had made for a less than pleasant journey out, but the mood was still high regardless. Their father and Lord Paramount had ridden out days ago to visit Seagard and had intended to see Stone Hedge as well. That likely meant several more days to not slight their kin at Raventree Hall. Kin still, no matter that their cousin’s mother had died.
They rode south and east, preferring the flat lands off the Red Fork rather than the forests north of Riverrun. They rode for sport and to hunt, but it was not a serious day of it. It was a day, in the midst of too much tension, for the eldest offspring of House Tully to take advantage of the promise of spring.
They passed by an old farming village, one that looked too old to have been deserted from Harren the Red’s rebellion, perhaps it had been emptied during the conquest. Nature had reclaimed much of the wooden structures, but stonework stood true.
“As good as any place to rest the horses and have a bite to eat, don’t you think, m’lord..." Raulf halted his mare, and spoke with warm ribbing to his brother. Their father’s departure had been a tension relieved, but the second son knew that feeling would not last long. Yet another attempt to find him a wife. Still, that left Prentys to act in their father’s interests, and gave Raulf reason enough to try and keep him humble. He shifted in his saddle to catch Abigael’s attention with a dramatic wink.
“Or perhaps m’lady thinks it better to push on for our prey..." He laughed easily, though it was not entirely genuine. There was still a tension to him, not just the reason for Rhobyn’s absence, but the news and rumors of the realm had set him on edge even more.
“But I think Bensen will agree with me, right lad..." Their cousin, enough time spent with them that Raulf considered him his eldest younger brother.
The lady in question’s attention was drawn to her brother and with a singular raised russet eyebrow the expressive face of Abigael Tully seemed directly related to the question that she then asked.
“And deprive us of this exquisite spring romp? I think not..." She niffed delicately as she pulled the massive blood bay stallion to a stop. He flicked his ears in annoyance.
“There is naught back at the castle that needs my attention..." She motioned for one of her brothers; she considered Bensen a little brother rather than a cousin, to help her down.
“If we are stopping you will not leave me on Balerion. You know I won’t be able to get down and it is rude! The ground is so very far away and my dress would tangle....."[/color] She tapered off pouting. She was a little thing and the stallion Balerion made her look even smaller. She looked down at the ground then at her brothers still pouting.
Truly if I wanted to I could get down on my own. I just don’t want to. Father probably went North to find Raulf another girl to humiliate. Eventually he will have to marry as will I. If Father harps after another Harroway boy after Elmo had that accident I will make life here hell. The Highgarden Heir is a good match and he’s handsome. Abigael’s attention came back to the present.
Bensen ran a hand through his shoulder-length locks, a deep exhale accompanying it all. She was right, he thought, there wasn’t anything back at the castle that really needed
any of their attentions. At least, that’s as he saw it. For that matter, they all seemed to agree about stopping. The youngest of the bunch sighed melodramatically, playing far into it as he clambered down from his pony.
“I suppose we ought to..." Of course, the ground did not help him as he landed, feet slipping from under him in the churned mud. The sound he made in falling was most unmanly.
“And here I liked this cloak..." he breathed out, cheeks red-hot in embarrassment as he laid for a moment before getting back up. Wiping the mud from his hands off on the outer ends of the cloak, Bensen looked up to the still-mounted lady. He flashed a rueful smile, still embarrassed over his fall.
“Jump down, Abi. I’m sure my imprint has made the ground firmer for it..."A gaggle of children were they, Prentys gave Raulf a stern raise of a reddish brow.
“It will do as well as anywhere and were I the Lord, brother, you would find yourself married off quick as could be. Even if to a Frey..." For all the talk of marriage alliances was a serious matter and the Tully's were lacking in the next link of the Lordship after himself, the Heir to Riverrun had a tone of amusement. Humored by his brother's refusal to marry rather than their exasperated father.
Swinging out of the saddle, his blood bay tossing a head in relaxation, the man strode across the mud and soggy grass to pluck Abigael from the saddle. A tall man and built with the training of a knight, Prentys had thought it a shame he had not been sent to the Starks of Winterfell. So soon after the Conquest, it would have been impossible. The Lords needed to gain favor within their own realms, alliances were a thing for daughters when one had an excess. Not that Abigael was an excess, He thought wryly. She was his own sister and a jewel within herself.
“There you go, Princess..." He teased her.
Raulf lowered himself smoothly, the splatter of mud completely missing his leggings. He rolled his eyes at the rest of them.
“No one told you to bring a war steed to a picnic, Abi..." The criticism was delivered with forced harshness through his easy smile. Had Prentys not moved to her rescue so quickly, he would have been there to free her from her self-inflicted distress. Why their father had let her claim that beast as her own…well, it wasn’t anything for Raulf to complain about.
He groaned inwardly at his eldest brother’s jest. His reluctance to marry or agree on a match was not well hidden within the family, no matter the excuses offered externally.
“Not all of us can be blessed with a wife like Lucinda..." He didn’t necessarily dislike his sister by law, but she was far too pious for his tastes.
“Have a son and this talk of marriage can be put to rest at last..." The talk of marriage was too much to continue engaging, instead, he went to Bensen and looked him over.
“A good thing we didn’t bring any other ladies to see your dismount..." He chuckled,
“or hear whatever sound that was. Sevens, cus, do you scream that way with the practice swords and I’ve just never noticed..." Raulf wasn’t one to talk, he’d barely gotten more praise than
well that wasn’t the worst you’ve done, boy.
The smile that Abigael gave her big brother Prentys was like sunshine from behind clouds. Her expression was one of joy as she was called Princess.
“My husband shall have a lot to live up to since my brothers spoil me..." She giggled and hugged her brother for a moment. Letting go she caught Balerion’s bridle and secured it so he didn’t wander. The dress she had chosen was cut in a square neckline and had fitted sleeves. It was a river blue with shots of crimson embroidery trailing throughout it like thin veins. It was fitted to Abigael’s small hourglass shape and the skirts just brushed the ground as she took care to lift them out of the mud. Dew transfer to the dress was acceptable but cold slimy mud was not.
Positioning herself on the grass Abigael looked over at Raulf.
“Raulf don't squabble, you know Balerion would get out and cause problems if I left him. It's not his fault he thinks I'm his lady. Speaking of ladies, Lucinda didn't want to join us today, Prentys? Is she alright? Bensen darling you missed a spot just here..." She pointed to the gloves she had on and to the palm near the outside of her thumb.
Bensen looked just a tad crestfallen at the mention of ladies or, indeed, him making such sounds at practice. The idea of them hearing such a noise was embarrassing, but the idea of such a noise reaching into the ears of every Riverlands lady was unbearable. Of course they hadn’t heard him make such noises when practicing swords; the reason was embarrassing too, as he frankly barely had ever done so after father had…gone. Things to fix, things to fix. Things for now to
forget to be more precise. He cast a look at Raulf, smiling slightly.
"Small wonders that we didn't consider bringing any. I didn’t know there were any in mind..."Missed a spot? He didn't even bother to check, just wiping his hands even more vigorously on the poor cloak.
Prentys shook his head, his mane of red hair swaying about a weathered face. The eldest of the lot and as such there was the position as the Lord's heir to uphold. Which Abigael, well intending as she was, made difficult with matters he wished to leave in his chambers.
“I fear I offended My Lady, when I did not denounce Maegor for his attempt to be king..." There was steel in his gaze as he looked over his brother, sister and cousin in turn. Too soon they would go out into the world and he did not want some ill fate to befall them.
“These words will not bear repeating. Well you know I heed the teachings of the Seven and of the piousness of my wife. Yet, there is a time and a place. Speaking too openly or with fervor on matters so great that concern the Targaryens? Abi, do you remember seeing Harrenhal, and that castle is newly built when all is said..." He gave a very pointed look to his sister and brother.
“Lucinda would have me denounce the marriage of brother and siblings and the upstart of marrying more than one wife. With my sword and the Faith as my shield..."Prentys was one to bring things back to depressing reality. Still, Raulf gently ribbed Bensen with his elbow and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“There’s always ladies, or so I hear. Just don’t let his wife find out..." He nodded back to the eldest with a final wink. Another thing that he wouldn’t be one to talk about. He put on a good enough display of things, but he hadn’t chased after a skirt since he was younger than Bensen was now.
“Do we have to ruin this glorious, muddy, spring day with talk of this again brother..." The look he gave was harder than his tone. No one could actually ignore what went on, nor could they hide from how it might affect them.
“Lucky for you all, I planned ahead, or planned for the worst if we didn’t catch sight of anything worth hunting..." He stomped back to his horse and the packs he had filled before the sun had risen at all that day. Skins of wine too good for their expedition, hard cheeses, cured meat, dried fruits. He grabbed a wine skin and held it out for them to see.
“A drink first, that whatever madness is elsewhere in the realm, we are left alone to our mud..." "He is obliged to talk of the Faith on any day. Lucinda would be displeased any other way..." Bensen frowned as he spoke not so loud, still wiping away at the mud on his hands crouched over. He had barely seen the glare given by Raulf, straightening up with a sigh as he'd finally been satisfied that the mud was off his hands. The cloak, rough as it was, just needed to be let dry before he'd wipe it away. It was thick wool, durable enough the young Tully was sure.
Eying the goods that Raulf had brought, Bensen smiled again. He truly had looked ahead, best or worst, and the gradual hole in his stomach made itself even more known than before. The hard cheese, especially, was enticing. Sucking at his tooth appreciatively, he nodded even as he was unsure exactly on what Bensen should say for it. After all, the eldest did not seem in too jovial a mood.
Looking up at her eldest brother Abigael scrunched her nose adorably.
“Really Pren? Must you bring up that cursed place and be so serious? We are allowed to have some fun aren’t we? I don’t want to talk about who’s doing what and make it a lesson. I want to have fun and not think about what lies beyond the moment. I do enough of that..." She smirked and picked her way over to Raulf and snatched the wineskin from him.
“I’d much rather extol the virtues of the fictitious man I wish to marry. Raulf and Benji can join me. They can tell us what virtues their wives should have and then we can take the qualifications to Father. Up for the challenge boys..."Shrugging off the hard look from Raulf, the eldest of the Tullys gave his younger brother a rueful shrug. Realities were realities and he, unlike they, shouldered a burden of being the heir. He could never just forget where he stood or what he was.
“Yes, I must. Else if I do not bring up the Faith at least one per outing my wife will hear tell of it and I shall find Riverrun a cold place..." It was half a jest as he collected some of the dried fruits from his brother.
“But I already know what virtues Raulf desires. A beautiful woman. One who is not so serious..." He teased his brother with a slight smile.
“For you Abi? A knight well placed to be a Lord and a kind hearted..."“Kind hearted isn’t such a surprising thing..." Bensen ventured, his nervousness in the statements gradually bleeding away as the young Tully continued.
“If anyone wanted something else, they’d be odd. She’d want someone who would listen, take heed, someone who…you know? Talked. Had actual conversations. Those seem rare enough for her..." He would choose a piece of cured meat instead, gnawing on it for just a moment as though in contemplation. It
was quite good, all things considered, and Bensen tried asking the question to himself. What did he want? It wasn’t something he had ventured much before, not as far as putting down the thoughts in a list as though ordering goods from a quartermaster, though the Tully found that he could probably imagine such a lady. The only ones who truly struck him so were the Reeds, maybe, or even some of the Northern women. He couldn’t say that he knew any Riverlanders or Reachmen who would hunt or fish or walk by his side. He chewed some more. It wasn’t something he could quite say aloud, at least not in front of Prentys. He’d criticize just as much as his wife would.
“The Dornish would fit that bill quite well, for Raulf. Beautiful, who aren’t serious..." He chuckled at the imaginary sight of him bringing such a lady into court, the faces of those others who would be aghast by it.
His brow arched upwards at the astuteness his cousin displayed, at least as far as Abi was concerned. If he’d had any interest in marriage, perhaps the Dornish would be his best bet, he thought and a rueful smile unintentionally flickered across his lips. The fame - infamy, depending on who you asked - of a Dornish woman was well known enough. Perhaps if he wanted to really annoy his father he’d raise the suggestion when presented with another poor woman to be intended.
Raulf frowned at the wine no longer being in his hand and held it outstretched to his sister.
“Abi apparently needs a husband who will let her do as she wishes, when she wishes, how she wishes, hm..." Seeing the skin not returned quickly enough he tried to give her a sad, pitiful look.
“And she hopefully won’t let him die for lack of drink..." He curled his fingers more insistently that it be returned to him.
“Beautiful women can be found in paintings and stories, why settle down and never have a moment’s peace again..." He knew there were rumors about him, but he had never been foolish enough to give those rumors teeth.
“It will be better for me to be clear-headed as I advise you into our elderly years, Prentys. What would you do without me..." He sauntered over and threw an arm around their eldest brother’s shoulder and leaned in with a loud whisper.
“Now can you make our favorite sister give me back the wine..." Pulling on the wineskin again Abigael took a long draw making a satisfied lip smacking sound afterwards. She made it annoyingly loud to gain attention.
“I am everyone's favorite sister. And I am helping you practice being clear headed. As for my husband, an entirely biddable husband is a boring husband..." She smirked and gave the wine to Bensen.
“I, dear brothers, I want passion. I want romance… and I want him to be pleasing to the eye as well as the heart. He doesn't have to let me win all the time, just the important times..."A little belch crept out and Abigael covered it with the back of her hand, her eyes twinkling.
“And I want out of the Riverlands. Highgarden is nice this time of year..." She hinted her preference then thought she had better be a little more obvious.
“As in the Tyrell heir. I mean we are the Paramount seat in the Riverlands, why not align with the Paramount seat of the Reach..." She reached for a piece of fruit and nibbled as she watched her brothers’ reactions.
“Highgarden..." Raulf chuckled even if hearing his sister speak about passion made him wonder what sort of terrible poetry or stories she’d found a bard to tell her lately.
“What was wrong with the Arryn boy who came through here a few years ago, too young for your tastes? Or are you afraid of heights maybe..." It wouldn’t have been the worst of political arrangements. He had softly suggested it to their father, why else was the lad touring the realm if not to shore up the fledgling line of an ancient family? A shame the boy hadn’t been adept at matters. Pleasant, and perhaps pleasing to the eyes, though it seemed he and his sister did not share taste in men.
Taking the wineskin, Bensen delivered a long look at the sister, eyes just a bit humored at the image. It was funny, yeah, though seeing her off to the Reach would be a strange loss he thought. Taking a quick swig before proffering the thing to Raulf, the young Tully exclaimed,
"If Prentys can't talk of the Faith, we oughtn't talk of politics lest Father decide the Starks are a good fit to you, Abi. Off to Winterfell you'd go, and never another summer you'd see. As for the Arryn, I'm sure there are too many rocky hills for your tastes there..."Arching an eyebrow at the mention of the Arryns. Abigael paused and then it came to her.
“Oh the delicate blonde man with the repressed attitude about women..." She snagged her gloves off her hands and tapped them on her thigh.
“A bird may love a fish, but where would they live? Besides that he lacked the manners the Seven or the Old Gods gave a goose. That is a lot of work dear brother for a pretty husband..."Leaning against a tree, Prentys shook his head.
“A good thing then that your first betrothal fell through with the Harroways if you want out of the Riverlands..." He commented, a hand reaching for the wine skin with a raised brow towards Raulf.
“That lad… Elmo? Hardly talked and as dusty as a book..." Considering Raulf he nodded more to himself.
“And a Dornish woman for you would do well..."Putting a hand on her hip Abigael slapped her thigh lightly with her gloves.
“Elmo. Yes. Well at least father listened to me about not keeping that betrothal after the accident..." She sighed and shook her head.
“Truly sad what happened, but the place is cursed. I was not going to get passed to his younger brother. Arryn would have been a better choice than a boy still clutching apron strings..." She was still affronted that they had offered to substitute another for her to have someone ‘whole’. She had thought Elmo was a good person and a nice friend but no more than that. Elmo was not passionate nor romantic, rather Elmo was very cool and polite. She was almost sure that he had no romantic feelings for her than he had for his sister. If she was wrong she’d never seen evidence to change her opinion.
“I think we should be touring the lands. Checking out alliances that could be made. Father needs to let us swim a little..." Abigael pushed her long curly hair out of her face and sighed heavily. She chafed under the confines of her father’s love. It was like a warm soothing blanket that was weighted down with responsibilities that she wanted to cast aside.
Raulf thought on it for a moment, his sister was not wrong and he cast a look at Prentys. Perhaps their father had kept Abi too close to Riverrun, too safely tucked away. He brushed aside the comments about how fitting anyone would be for him.
“No matter your thoughts on the Arryn boy or that poor Harroway, you’re not wrong about touring the lands, don’t you think, Pren? Maybe even get our cousin properly introduced..." Please, he thought, a few months away to escort them around would be good for him, a focus on those two was less on him.
The heir to the Riverlands considered the idea of his sister and brother. A touring of the lands would be no bad thing. Letting the lords see and know him, find spouses and alliances for his siblings. Perhaps give Lucinda time to consider his way of thinking. They had been together for well over ten years, rarely apart during that time.
“No, it is a good idea and one I would be more than interested in joining in. Letting the Lords see my face and know of me before I replace father would be no bad thing..." Prentys agreed.
The horse was given a mix of what he could find; carrots, mostly, with an apple to finish. He, himself, had feasted on duck he had hunted down at the small creek, not far from the memory of what used to be a village in the Riverlands. Before he succumbed to sleep, he ensured the fire was out, and covered with dirt. The horse he left inside the remains of a home, wooden timber, with half the roof missing, but the horse was unlikely to mind that.
He, himself, took the crawl space of the home. A bedroll and his dark coat rolled up to his head were more than he needed to fall asleep. The next morning, he was quick to pack and prepare to be off, but breaking his fast was the priority. There was some duck left, but an assortment of berries and nuts were his prize for the early part of the day.
He waited to leave, and partly out of necessity; his mind ran, and ran, and ran. It was a matter of wheels within wheels; opening a door just to find another door, surrounded by maze and mystery—where was she? Was she safe? What was she? Was she some witch? Was she some manifestation of divine will? Did such a thing exist?
He believed she saw what she saw. Was she simply mad? Was there more to it? Some questions, dark and dangerous as it felt, he knew the answers to…even if he still asked them as part of him pretended, he did not. Other questions, he just asked himself, again and again. By the time he finally readied the horse, he heard noises. The remains of the village allowed him caution and plenty of options for a careful, hidden, approach.
He had a good look, and he liked not at all what he saw: high born, obviously, without any visible guard.
Speaking of madness… It took him a few moments to retreat, silently, from the remains of a granary, to come around the building to its front, to within sight. His blade was obvious upon his hip, his voice lower than normal, as if he hadn’t spoken to a soul in days.
“Do you think it wise to linger in abandoned places without guard..."Turning pleading eyes to her oldest brother Abigael fluttered her eyelashes to get him to laugh. The boys all laughed when she hammed it up and she found that laughter was the best equalizer. Laughter would get you into and out of more places than trying force. Besides that she was a tiny little thing and force didn’t really work. The attempt to lighten the mood was torn apart as she heard a soft gruff voice and froze for a moment. Indeed they had not come with a guard. She trusted her brothers to protect her. Perhaps that was a foolish mistake.
Stepping behind her brothers, Abigael clicked softly to bring Balerion closer. Looking around as if the sudden idyllic countryside that was so pleasant moments ago hid villains behind every tree, bush and burn. Abigael pressed back into Balerion, her eyes flicking back and forth. The horse shivered as his mistress’ disquiet bled into him from her diminutive hand upon his neck and to his withers. Balerion’s ears flicked and his nostrils flared taking in a deep breath.
Abigael rationalized that if this man was indeed not alone, as he seemed, then it would not be smart for them to not harm her. It was a gamble but she took it as she tapped Balerion’s shoulder, her signal for him to bow so she could climb on. Balerion blew out the deep breath he had taken then dipped and with a swift movement Abigael climbed into the side saddle. Balerion felt her full weight and straightened as she settled. Ears flicking Balerion snorted and danced with the extra energy of the tension that you could cut with a knife.
“Steady..." Abigael’s voice was soft, melodious, rich and contrary to her slight frame. The level calm belied the apprehensiveness that kept Balerion twitching. She knew that she would need to compose herself to soothe Balerion even the slightest. In testament to the sheer amount of willpower she had Abigael stuffed most of the fear into a box.
“A little fear keeps you sharp. But not so much that it cripples you girl..." Abigael recalled her Uncle saying when they had gone on her first hunt.
Balerion danced as Abigael calmed and his large hooves sucked and spattered the mud as she brought him under control then relaxed. The ingénue and beast both relax as they eye the newcomer with interest. Curiosity winning out over fear Balerion shifts closer to the man as Abigael tips her head letting Balerion have his head the reigns loose. Ears forward Balerion stretches his neck out then takes a small step.
Her study of the man roamed his person intensely and with a curiosity that was immeasurable, such was the largest flaw in Abigael, her curiosity. His clothing was well made and dark; the sword at his hip had a lion on the hilt. He was road weary and it showed in his tousled shoulder length sable hair. Echoed by the stubble that graced his cheeks and the husky tone of his voice.
“Bennie hand the wineskin to the man from Casterly Rock. He sounds like he needs it to clear the road from his throat. Raulf, is there salt in there? We should welcome him with hospitality..." She relaxed more as she blinked at Balerion nudging the stranger’s shoulder.
“He normally doesn’t take that quickly to people..."“A man from the West..." Prentys's brows were drawn together for three had been little but bad news from Casterly Rock. The death of Aegon chief among them. The laughter and smiles from moments ago cast aside as he considered this stranger. That the war horse took to him was noted as he gave a nod to Raulf in agreement with their sister.
“You are a long way from Casterly Rock, stranger. Come drink and feast with us and tell us what has you looking so haggard on the road?. I've heard many a tale come about the Lannisters from out if the west..."Raulf undid the ties that held the bag to his horse. It had been an error to stop and chat without even a moment to determine that they were alone. It wasn’t the first time they had all gone off on their own, not something they made many aware of, but they’d never run across more than a scattering of smallfolk. Not someone like this man. Abi - maybe Balerion moreso - had a good read on people. He was not fully relaxed, but his body was loose and he quickly returned the easy-going smile he saved for those he hoped to charm.
“I cannot promise a feast but salted meat, a hunk of bread, and a long drink from that wineskin will do you good..." He offered the bag, open, towards the older man. He did not look like a Lannister of any kind, perhaps a guard? With the news out of the Westerlands, Raulf wouldn’t be surprised if a man had had enough and looked to make his own way.
“I’m good with animals..." was his only response to the comment about her horse, detached and gentle, as he gave the beast a casual scratch and friendly few pats before turning his attention to the others. All Keano heard was further madness and a desperation for news. At least he could understand the latter, while the former just left him staring at them in partial disbelief.
Had the past fortnight not been strange, he might have had a hard time believing the group before him now.
“The blade was a gift from my former employer, Lorelai of House Lannister. Her eldest brother, Loreon, returned from adventuring in Essos. He brought Essosi gods with him, Aegon died at the hands of smallfolk....."He trailed, thinking he saw on their faces an untrustable hope, but his mind played on with the fringe Westerosi empty village, and he became convinced there had to be a simpler explanation. On their clothes he found creases indicating folds, the kind of thing that drew him in like a backwards attraction, like a chatter of endless secrets and pretentious quips. It seemed as useful to him as throwing stones at the sky. Suddenly he saw it all again; wild eyes, streaking colors, blurred by the blood, and a half-moon over the bay that threatened with pale light—within the blink of his eyes, it all changed: back to the nobility around him, back to the village, back to the present.
“Lord Tytos, uncle of the old King’s children, sent an assassin to kill his niece, Lady Lorelai. By the time the morning star found the Rock, Tytos was dead, Lorelai believed dead....." His eyes found the horses, as the tips of his ungloved fingers traced the lines of the war horse’s lower jaw, lost in it,
“I told her to run. I told her to run and never look back. The Three-Eyed Raven would find her, I hoped…I hope, still..."By the time he quit speaking, the words were nothing more than haunted whispers. Without questioning why, he spoke again, clearer, harder,
“The city was rioting when I left. My oath was to her, not her family. The Reach talks of two great hosts; one for the King, one for the Faith, marching to King’s Landing. The High Marshall of the Reach is either dead, or lost, whichever tale you’d want to believe. Vaera Balaerys stalks the mountains of the Westerlands with her dragon, like she’s searching for a homeland, guiding another lost dragon like some secret Valyrian flying host on the march to Casterly Rock, where her old adventuring companion resides as Lord of the Rock..."He paused, before looking up at the girl before, and shrugging, speaking past her,
“No feast. No food. Get out of here. The shadows have cracked, and they’ve started to creep across this entire land. War. Others. The ice is getting thinner…you’re not safe..." he said, staring into the eyes of the woman on the horse, but his mind far away,
“and I can’t protect you anymore....." He took a single step back, blinked, and turned away. It was time to go.
Thoughts churned in Abigael’s mind.
Lorelai? Assassination attempt? By her Uncle who is now dead? Essosi gods? Aegon dead? Three-Eyed Raven? Questions round and round spun like an ash seed in the autumn winds.
Almost disoriented, a chill ran a painfully slow trail down Abigael’s spine at the fall of words in raspy haunting whispers. The air seemed to still and the forest held its breath to better hear what this man had to say.
Riots. Armies marching to King’s Landing. Dragons in the Westerlands. But when her river blue eyes met his warm hazelnut brown ones, and he spoke to her and beyond her. Her eyes widened as he warned them, no her, that she wasn't safe and that he couldn't protect her anymore. That familiar chill crept over her from head to toe.
Balerion knickered as the man turned as if to call him back and say he wasn't done getting petted.
“Shush you needy thing. You act like I don't love you enough..." Abigael leaned forward in the saddle as the man turned to go.
“Wait. Surely you at least need supplies before you go wherever you're going? Would you deny me at least that courtesy since you have declined my hospitality? Or you can consider it a payment for information shared..."He shook his head in disbelief, followed by fear, and then anger. Raulf preferred to settle things with a smile, well placed suggestions, or brute charm. But whatever nonsense spilled out of this man’s mouth was simply that and nothing to be entertained. Particularly not to be entertained by his sister. What had they been thinking - at least the man was right on that much.
“Abigael..." He spoke her name, a warning, a plea. He closed the bag and tucked it under his arm, backing away slowly, and not just to ensure he did not trip himself in the mud.
“Bensen, on your horse too..." He wouldn’t order Prentys around, but he caught his brother’s eyes and gave a firm nod.
He turned the words over in mind, to not lose them, to be able to recall them later and parse what was real and what was the ramblings of a clearly mad man.
“It’s time we returned home, the mud is too much for a hunt today..." Shooting her brother a frown at his tone Abigael opened her mouth to retort only to growl softly as Raulf started to order them around.
“Bensen belay that..." Her tone was tart and not quiet. She turned back to Raulf, eyes narrowed and the leash she had on her temper starting to rend. She upbraided her brother stridently.
“Raulf I said as much when we set out this morn but you talked me into it. How is it now that we have something..." She paused searching for the word.
“Riveting, that you want to turn and head for home? Do the deer, or whatever it was we are after care that it is muddy..." Her acerbic tone was one that she used when she thought someone was being particularly oafish.
Nudging Balerion with her knees Abigael and the warhorse danced around her brothers closer to the man from the Westerlands. The verisimilitude of the traveler made her want to know if it was from visions or reality. Visions could be interpreted just like in tales of old. Why else had three Valyrian families moved from such a rich enchanting place to the cold shores of Westeros? Besides that Abigael was burning to know what had happened to Aegon, Rhaena, and Lorelai. It was as if the story wasn’t even half told and Father was telling her that she had to go to sleep and hear the rest tomorrow.
Bensen stared, stock-still for the most part, and the events laid themselves out before his very eyes. His hand had drifted close to his belt, the dirk there fairly comforting compared even to the blade that the stranger wore. There were many things fairly disconcerting about the man and what he was saying, the whole of it, not to mention the way he was saying it. He wasn't well, that was sure enough, he wasn't well and what he was saying wasn't well. Three Eyed Ravens…Bensen could vaguely grasp at what precisely that was, but only just. He stared still.
Raulf's words broke his frozen form, taking a few steps backwards before Abigael countermanded such. She talked about deer and not caring, the words seeming to just pass over here.
"We…we ought to tell people, though, oughtn't we? To send ravens and confirm what was just said. The deaths and…and the Reach..."“No..." The words were hard from Prentys as he moved to his horse and mounted, giving Bensen a hard look.
“If we tell the people it can and will start a panic. A panic right now with enough upheaval, cousin, will cause trouble for all. A monarch and his heir dead, a succession cast between uncle and nephew..." The man shook his head.
“I shall inquire and quietly..." He assured the man, resting a steadying hand on the lad.
“And get word to Father..."Despite himself, Keano had stopped when the girl spoke up. Then he turned to look at the one who’d been quiet, but suddenly spoke to question what they ought to do. When the one who spoke with the arrogance of authority spoke up, he actually felt himself smile, even as his mind drifted down the dirt road that led into the broken, forgotten, memory of a village. With his eyes in quick pursuit of his mind, he saw it, first, and audibly sighed.
“Think you missed your chance for quiet. Good luck..."Keano walked back between buildings, with a quickness that wasn’t there before, as the golden rose of Highgarden, on a green grass field, appeared dancing at a distance in the spring sky—a distance that was closing fast with the cloud of dust and dirt behind it. When the cloud got closer, still, it appeared in truer form: two ranks of horse, with a single horse at the fore, black and big and strong, with a rider upon it that was tall, slender, dark haired, and big brown eyed. A handsome man wrapped in the leathers and cloaks and fastenings of the highest level of nobility.
As they entered the remains of the village, the two ranks spread out, fast and hard they rode, as if daring anyone a horse to turn rein and make a run, encircling them immediately if they didn’t, spears out. Each in the green leather and chainmail, with the golden cloaks pinned by golden roses about their collarbones. Knights of the Reach.
The slender lord upon the black courser slowly trotted towards to complete the encirclement, his eyes not on the group, but the one: the one with the red hair, and the blue and crimson wrapped upon her form. His courser drew closer, and then when it would be appropriate to stop, the lord drew it closer still. Closer they came, the deeper the depths his eyes seemed to find in her own, until before either of them knew it…he was close enough to reach out, and offer his hand, palm up.
It was as if the others didn’t exist, for that fleeting, fading, moment in time.
“Lord Bertrand of House Tyrell…which Lady Tully are you, I wonder..." He said it smiling, his voice as steady and stern as it was ready to lower its defenses, and show warmth.
Gritting her teeth Abigael knew to have all of them against her was not to get her way. She hated not getting her way, always had. True that age tempered such things, as well as the brothers learning that they could tell her no. That had always rankled as each one when they got older stood up to her. Until she turned on the water works. Tears worked but Abigael found them hard to work with unless she was truly frustrated, deeply angry or hurt. She opened her mouth to again follow up Bensen’s comment only to snap it shut because Prentys just had to pipe up as well.
Rolling her eyes up to the heavens and caught a bright flutter in the distance. Focused on the object she saw the standard of Highgarden and blinked. Was this a daydream? Was she wool gathering and really still in her solar working on her needle point?
As they were encircled by Knights of the Reach, Highgarden to be exact, Abigael had only eyes for the man statuesque, lean, dark of hair and eye. Her breath held as he rode closer lost in his eyes as he came closer than appropriate. So close that she could tell his eyes were thickly lashed and deep pools of warm shadow. She blushed prettily as she put her hand in his. His voice was rich like mulled wine on a cold winter day.
Tongue darting out to wet her lips in a nervous gesture Abigael answered the man she had not only been just talking about but had been imagining meeting. Reality was trumping anything she could have imagined.
“Then wonder no longer Lord Bertrand. I am Abigael Tully, first born daughter of Lord Rhobyn and Lady Gewlia Tully. Welcome to Riverrun or almost Riverrun. I am appalled that I was unaware of your visit..." She smiled with delight, making her river blue eyes sparkle.
“As were we all..." The cool voice of Prentys was glacier water over rocks.
“We had no raven that you or your men were passing through Lord Bertrand..." A man from a house of stewards, for all that Aegon the Conqueror had raised them to the position of Lord Paramonts. At least the Tullys had been Lords among the Riverlands.
“Ser Prentys Tully, Heir the Riverrun. My brother, Ser Raulf Tully. Our cousin, Bensen Tully..." His horse shifted under his directive, to politely draw close to his sister and this uppity young Lord. Mannerless cur.
“Tell me, why do the Highgarden pass through with a group of Reach men and no word to the Lord nor his heir? I would think the raven perhaps went astray..." Kneeing his mount closer to Balerion, he neatly inserted himself between the two, a stern frown upon a proud face.
Bensen sighed internally as the situation grew even more odd, Reach men-at-arms suddenly left and right, the rose on their banners, and the man before them was named. Abi, being as she was, seemed to instantly be infatuated, Bensen bowed his head and shifted his hand from his belt when introduced, and Prentys per usual was exceptionally severe. He breathed out audibly too, trying to just exhale out all the stress and things and sheer stuff that seemed to be thrown his way. There was, as far as Bensen could tell, simply too much. He didn't say much, though, simply mounting his own pony as Prentys seemed to ask pertinent questions.
He blinked, as if he must be lost. His bright, brown, eyes darted this way, then that, up upon the eastern sky, then the western. Finally, his jaw set, and his head gave a quick, hard, shake, as the edge of a jape hid just beyond the ridge of his tone,
“I don’t…SEE castle walls…have I come asking for guest rights..."Then, suddenly, he turned his attention back to the lordling and smiled the smile of a young man that was wont to give into his impulses, with every means available within the Seven Kingdoms in which to indulge them. It was easy, casual, and full of a life it seemed the Tully lord before him would never see dawn upon the horizon of his own life.
Bertie felt sadness for the man.
“We travel on business of my own, passing through your fine lands of rivers and fine villages….my sister would like you, I think..." he said, gratified, amused, and turning his attention to the Lady once more,
“…I do apologize for the interruption. We thought you all might be in danger..."“You all, and the spy that left your presence as we approached..." the voice that spoke was hard, booming, like a thunderclap in a narrow canyon. He was the largest man of them all, including the Tully, with the hard look of a warrior.
Without looking away form her, Bertrand raised an arm in the direction of the large man that spoke,
“Lord and Knight, Ser Dennet Tarly of Horn Hill. Not his first time to the Riverlands, though, is that correct Dennet..."“I was with the High Marshall of the Reach, Lady Vittoria, as we cleansed the Riverlands of Harren the Red..."As if he was sharing a deep secret, Bertrand leaned towards the Lady Tully and whispered,
“I’ve learned to be proud of my little sister. BUT..." he pivoted, voice loud enough in a snap for all to hear, as he addressed them all now, looking between the Riverlads,
“King’s Landing was a little warm, with the new King Maegar and the Faith Militant about to light the city AFLAME, I tell you, as they battle each other for…….I don’t know what, actually, I stopped paying attention when it became clear violence was in the air..."Then, once more, Bertrand smiled a near grin at the Lady Tully,
“Shall my Knights and I escort you home, M’Lady? Never know what dangers lurk....."The faux pas that Abigael made about assuming he was there to possibly see her made her blush hotly. At least she hadn’t come right out and assumed he was there to see her. She didn’t know what to make about the comment of his sister would like her brother. Prentys was so serious… but that might appeal to some. She loved her brother but she wasn’t sure she understood him.
Abigael blinked as Bertrand said that he thought she might have been in danger. She swallowed and slowly opened her full mouth about to answer him as the booming voice of Ser Dennet Tarly rang out like the peel of thunder and she jumped slightly. Balerion tossed his head and flattened his ears back toward her.
“Steady Balerion..." She murmured as she barely looked at her beloved warhorse and even the booming voice couldn’t pull her eyes from the deep pools of shadow that held her enthralled. When he pointed she nodded, a meer dip of her chin. As he leaned in she gravitated toward him and smiled as he admitted his pride in his sister.
As he pivoted Abigael let her eyes move over his thick sable hair and caressed his shoulders. She barely resisted the urge to touch him. When he smiled at her asking if he could escort her home she didn’t hesitate.
“I would be honored to have such an escort, M'Lord..."“Abigael..." Prentys gave his sister a disapproving look, before directing a far more polite nod of his head to Dennet Tarly rather than the introduction he gave to Bertrand.
“Lord Bertrand, we would gladly see you to the castle proper, as opposed to the lands on which. You, Highgardeners, should be well aware the lands of a castle extends beyond it’s wall.Your sister does a fine job as a commander, a credit to… your family..." His words not even honor Bertrand with the notion that his family was a House within themselves. Turning his mount, he placed a large hand behind Abigael’s back. Urging her to come as well.
“Come along, sister..."The buzz of her brother’s words rang like a fly round her head. Annoying. His snarky attitude made her shameful and angry that he behaved that way.
“I apologize for my brother’s unconscionable snobbish behavior. I can only attribute it to the fact that I'm his darling little sister. Though I don't normally get as much attention. You must be weary from your journey. Please take a moment with us to relax..." She smiled brightly with a hint of chagrin.
Seven, so much for a day of fun. And Prentys, no matter his strongsuits, was now displaying his flaws. Raulf groaned inwardly, he wouldn’t be able to leave his brother alone for a single minute where diplomacy was needed. So much for that flight of fancy of taking Abigael and Bensen on a tour of the houses. Then again, if there truly was that much unrest afoot, it was a terrible idea regardless. Trapped in the Riverlands, a true enough story for any other time in their family history.
“Well, I would also be appreciative of an escort back..." He spoke at last, having mounted his horse. He avoided trying to give Prentys a disapproving look; it would be wasted. Abigael needed one as well, but she would take it as a challenge no doubt. Their cousin was the only other one with a head on his shoulders at the moment it seemed.
“Good timing for us to make such an error as to travel alone. Our father..." and surely Abigael too, though he wouldn’t be so brash as to say it aloud,
“would have never forgiven us if we had let the heir to Highgarden avoid a visit. Though, I can understand not wanting to be waylaid in the Riverlands…again..." He nodded in recognition of the sacrifices made in clearing their lands of that rebellion.
“Still, Lord Tully is unlikely to return in time to meet you himself, so please, at least stay for a night of food and rest before you return to whatever duty calls you..." “Don’t you look at me, you shit..." The anger came cold from Lord Tarly, voice as far from rising as it was close to dangerous, but it came all the same to the Tully Lord,
“you look at him..." he said, pointing to Bertrand,
“he’s your kind. Not me. I’m the kind who lost brothers fighting a fight your family couldn’t. They’re buried down that road, a road I’ll travel any fucking time I want..."A beat of silence, a few beats of hearts, and Dennet nodded to Abigael.
“My apologies you had to hear that, Lady Abigael..."Bertrand’s face steeled.
“Go on, take half, finish the job. Circle back and we’ll meet up..."Dennet’s eyes weren’t hot flicks of blackened brown, but near empty vessels drained of the fire from before. That was the power of the Heir to Highgarden, and Bertrand knew it was the only thing that kept Lord Tarly from darker words, or actions, still. When half of the Knights begun to trot out, Tarly included, Bertrand gave a belated sigh, and looked back to the Tully Lady, though his words were meant for the rest of them,
“I don’t think insults were the greater part of wisdom there, but let’s move on, Lords and Lady. I’ve heard great things about Riverrun, and would be honored to escort you all home and partake in your generous offer..."His smile was real, but that, as his father had said before, was the thing about Bertrand…his smiles were always real, it’s just no one could ever seem to figure out what they meant. To Abigael his gaze softened, and his voice lowered to a private volume.
“Would you please ride with me along the way? I’d like to get to know you, and tomorrow is never promised..."Mortified! If only the earth would swallow me whole! I will make Prentys regret every letter of every word he just said! Our grandfather and father are no better than the Tyrell House! Abigael’s thoughts raced as Ser Dennet Tarly snapped her brother’s words off and fed them back to him cold and angry. Abigael glowered at Prentys, her eyes promising swift unrelenting retribution to be delivered with an alacrity that would make the dragons on Dragonstone jealous. Abigael moved away from Prentys’ hand on her back closer to Bertrand.
Acknowledging Ser Dennet with a deep look of contrition hoping she got her point across as she smoothly attempted to soothe tempers. Abigael made sure that she made eye contact with all the Knights, earnest apology in her eyes. Hearing Bertrand address Ser Dennet about a job to finish she tucked that information away. Balerion shifted stamping, impatient to get moving back to home.
“If you bolt and make this humiliation complete, no carrots or apples for a week..." Balerion snorted and settled with a heavy sigh as if to say,
“Fine. But I don't like it..."Nodding Abigael fell in closer to Bertrand shooting Prentys another glower telling him to back off so she could start to fix his cock up. Finally they got moving Abigael fastened to Bertrand’s side like a proper Lady attending a visiting Lord who was courting her. As they advanced at a walk Abigael smiled at Bertrand.
“Indeed tomorrow is not promised. My Lord is wise to recognize it. Tomorrow is a mystery. Yesterday come and gone. Today is a gift and why it is called the present..."Eyes sparkling, Abigael teased Bertrand.
“Balerion will be upset that I decided to be more ladylike and reserved today. I didn't let him have his head and charge around. I did see a few horses that looked quite fine, yours included..."
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