Darry was a small castle as such things went, but it still outdid the holdfasts and keeps that Steve had seen in his time romping across Westeros. Seated atop a small hill around which a stream curled, it might once have been called picturesque, but that was before Lord Tully had seized the castle and installed his army around it. Now it flew a trout banner, and around it was a hive of tents and bored soldiers, threaded by lanes turned to mud slop as winter’s touch on the land continued to fade.
Steve and Walt had taken one look at the muster and ordered the company to make camp upstream. It may have been orderly enough, as such things went, but Lord America’s company had higher standards. That it would also remove them from the thick of things as Robert’s men joined the Rivermen before gossip could spread was just a bonus, though by the gawking that had been directed at Steve as they arrived that might have been too late.
That had been two days past, however, and on the third day after their arrival, a summons came, inviting Steve for a discussion in Castle Darry. That the invitation came the morning after the arrival of small parties from the nearby Vale and North armies was no coincidence.
There were squires and groomsmen waiting to take their horses when Steve and Keladry rode into the castle courtyard. It was not a day for arms and armour, but nor could they attend an invitation from the leaders of the rebellion in their casual wear. Steve’s courtly wear had been dug out from the bottom of his packs, and Naerys had somehow obtained a dress and trouser combination for Keladry that flattered her strength and left no doubt that she was a woman. It was hard to tell which of the two received more stares from around the courtyard as they entrusted their mounts to the staff. Brooklyn and Malorie were being wooed with sugar cubes and apple slices when a familiar young figure approached.
“Lord America,” the boy said, giving a bow. “Lady Delnaimn. Welcome to Darry.”
“Edmure,” Steve said, taking in the Tully kid, dressed up in his House colours. He had gotten taller since he had last seen him, back during the wedding celebrations at Riverrun. It felt like years ago. “You’ve come to war too?” His tone was carefully non-judgemental.
Blue eyes beamed up at him, coloured by no little hero worship. “I have! Father won’t let me near the fighting, but I’ve been serving as a page.” He seemed to remember something, and offered up the bowl he held. “My lord father offers his hospitality.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, taking one of the small hunks of bread and the salt it sat in. Silently, Keladry followed suit.
“Is it true you slew two hundred men holding Mastford Bridge?!” Edmured burst out, apparently no longer able to contain himself. “Alone?!?”
Steve finished chewing and swallowed, before clearing his throat. “I wasn’t alone, and it was two hundred casualties. I only killed about one hundred.”
“Woah,” Edmure said, hero worship intensifying. He shook himself. “My father sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here to meet you as he is in talks with Lord Stark, Lord Arryn, and Lord Baratheon, but he asks that you join them,” he said, clearly reciting a practised phrase.
“Lead the way,” Steve said. He was sure there was something to be read into the way he and Kel had been met by Edmure alone, a young page, only to be invited to a meeting between the leaders of the rebellion, but he was less than eager to do so. The knights and other notables who had found reason to loiter in the courtyard after seeing him arrive were sure to do it for him anyway.
He was already starting to miss his time in the Reach.
Kel fell into step at his shoulder as Edmure led them from the yard into the castle interior, confidently following carpeted stone halls. Glass windows, some stained with pretty scenes, let the sunlight in, though at the moment it also served to highlight the absence of paintings and tapestries that would have been lit. Whatever had been taken down Steve couldn’t say, but they were notable in their absence.
The three of them turned down another hall and passed a pair of serving women, and though they tried to keep their heads down, they could not help but glance at the two guests. By the shifting of their eyes, they were having a hard time deciding which they were more awed by. Once they were around a corner and out of earshot of most, giggles and whispers erupted between them.
“How’s your sister been?” Steve asked as they continued on.
“Father says married life is treating her well,” Edmure reported.
“That’s good to hear,” Steve said, though he had been thinking of Lysa and how she had dealt with the whole hostage situation. “And Lysa?” There was a door ahead, and a grizzled guard standing to one side of it, halberd in hand and sword at his hip. He eyed them as they neared, but made no comment after confirming that Edmure led them.
Edmure came to a stop before the door, and looked over his shoulder, pulling a face. “She keeps asking about Stannis.” He put his ear to the door, trying to listen for a lull in the conversation that was going on behind it.
Steve caught a murmur about approaches to Harrenhal, and then there was a pause. Edmure took the opportunity to knock, three quick raps and then two staggered.
“Enter,” came the call, and the guard pushed the door open for them.
Within was a round room, and at its centre a round table. It seemed to be in one of the castle’s corner towers, and three tall, narrow windows on the outside wall let in the light. At the table were a handful of men, sitting in like groups and inspecting reams of parchment strewn across the table. They had all looked up to see the new arrivals, taking them in as Steve and Keladry inspected them in turn.
Hoster Tully sat with his back to the windows, in what would have been a position of command had those sharing the table with him been anyone else. His brother Brynden was at his left, and to his left was Jon Arryn. His heir, Elbert, was at his side, turning back to look at the newcomers, and Steve shared a nod with him. Robert was next beside him, likewise looking back. Rounding out the gathering across from Jon was Rickard Stark and his sons, Brandon to his left next along from Hoster, and Ned on his right next to Robert.
Somehow, Steve didn’t think a casual ‘Fellas’ would be the right way to start this meeting off. “Lords. How are you all?”
Murmured greetings came from the younger men in the room, though the elders held their tongues.
Hoster gave a slight cough, clearing his throat. “Lord America.” He glanced at Edmure as the kid walked around to stand at his back. “I trust my son passed on my welcome?”
“He was very polite,” Steve said, giving them a nod. “Went through all the expected courtesies.”
There was a long moment as the riverlord inspected him, but just before it could become awkward, he smiled. “He’s coming along well,” he said, and at his back Edmure beamed. “Please, join us.” He waved a hand at the gap between Rickard and Elbert. There was only a single chair there.
Steve was about to point out what was surely an honest mistake, when he saw Kel shift her chin to one side in a small, deliberate movement. She would not thank him for making a ruckus over things, so he pulled out the chair and sat.
Brynden, Robert, Brandon, and Ned he had just spent the better part of a month with on the march, but he hadn’t seen Elbert or the three high lords since Gulltown. Jon was looking as sharp as he ever had, if more worn physically, but Rickard was another matter. The northerner was pale, appearance made worse by sunken eyes that hardly seemed to blink and a beard that had been let to grow long. He had lost weight, and there was a cane resting against the table where he sat.
“You know why you’ve been summoned, I’m sure,” Hoster said, continuing to guide the conversation.
“I figure we’ve got a few things to talk about,” Steve said, which seemed to throw the man, but only for a moment.
“Yes…primarily, your run in with my bannerman, Lord Deddings,” Hoster said. His tone was serious, and his head had tilted forward so that he was watching Steve from under downturned brows.
“Well,” Steve said, and if Bucky or Tony or Fury or anyone else who had had to deal with Steve from a position of authority had been present, something in his tone would have had them looking over warily. “As I understand it, Deddings was concerned about his border with Goodbrook. Something about worrying over attacks on his villages, while Goodbrook’s men were all off with the loyalists.” He paused a moment, to let his unspoken point sink in. “But I guess there was no way he could have known that Goodbrook had just forsworn his oath to the Targaryens in time to call off his raid on your people. Sorry, the villagers are still your people, right? Even though they’re sworn to Goodbrook first?”
“I, yes, they are,” Hoster said. He gave a sideways glance to his brother.
“I’ve been told it wasn’t my place to discipline him,” Steve added, “and I heard something about the right of the gallows, but it can be gosh darned hard to keep all these laws and lordly privileges in mind when I’m dealing with soldiers raping civilians, you know?” There was a rueful bent to his words, but the look on his face was anything but.
There was a pause as the table digested his words.
“I must admit,” Hoster said, “I am likewise less than pleased with how Lord Deddings took advantage of my generosity. I am inclined to rule in your favour simply due to your relative contributions to our cause.”
“Hang on,” Steve said, frowning now. “The law should apply equally to all, without consideration for how each party has benefited something.”
Behind him, Kel gave a barely noticeable sigh, while Brandon squinted at him. They were not the only ones exasperated with his sudden shift.
“You would have me hold you to account for overstepping your authority?” Hoster asked, blinking at him now. His hand twitched upwards, as if to scratch at his greying auburn hair.
“I’d have you do the right thing for the right reasons, hard as reality can make that,” Steve told him, blunt as a hammer.
Jon cut in before anyone else could respond. “I believe the concern here is less what was done, and more that it was done outside the expected roles and boundaries of our laws,” the elder lord said. “Had Lord Brynden been present to oversee the disciplining of Lord Deddings, this conversation would likely not be necessary.” He looked around the table, receiving nods from most, though Rickard seemed largely uninterested.
“My brother speaks with my authority in matters of that scale,” Hoster confirmed, before taking a moment to consider his words. “Lord America clearly acted from a position of knightly virtue, and Lord Goodbrook was no longer an enemy of the Riverlands at the time Lord Deddings raided his lands, an act for which he did not have permission. If Lord America can acknowledge that such incidents shall be handled by those with the appropriate authority in the future, then we can lay this matter to rest.” He looked expectantly to Steve.
"If there's an 'appropriate authority' to hand them off to, sure,” Steve said, before his voice turned flat. “If not, I'm not going to let murder and rape slide.”
There was a flicker of frustration over Hoster’s face, and Jon looked very much like he wanted to pinch his aquiline nose.
“Just send a man with him,” Robert said, very much on the verge of complaining. “Ned or Elbert or Lord Brynden could handle any of this. Not that it’s needed. Gods know I had to put up with enough complaining on our march that turned out to be a waste of my time.”
“My brother is needed with the Northern army,” Brandon said, glancing briefly at his father.
“And my brother with mine,” Hoster added.
“Elbert is required by my side,” Jon said, tapping one finger on the table. “Nor can I risk my heir on commands as daring as Lord America’s.”
There was a moment of frustrated silence, as the lords sought for the words that would settle the issue politely, and to their favour.
“Is Steve’s answer not what was desired?” Ned asked. “He is not the kind of man to hang a lord out of hand, and he is no longer ranging far from any ally.” He looked around the table, long face serious. “Nor is he the kind of man to flee from the consequences of his actions, should this happen again.”
There was a frustrated purse to Hoster’s lips, though Brynden seemed faintly amused.
“You understand our concern, Lord Steve,” Jon said to him. “As much as we seek to uphold the virtues of knighthood, we must also take the realities of leadership into account as we ensure they are followed.”
“I understand exactly how it is,” Steve said. “I also know that you could probably find some benefit in there being a man around who doesn’t much care for that sort of thing.”
Jon’s focus sharpened on him, inspecting him with hawk-like intensity, before giving a faint nod. “Such a thing may become useful,” he said diplomatically, before turning to Hoster. “Hoster, if you are satisfied…?”
Hoster didn’t quite roll his eyes or throw his hands up, but it seemed that he wanted to. “Aye. I can take Lord America’s ‘agreement’ and use it to put the matter to rest.”
Rickard stirred. “Are we ready to discuss something that matters?” His voice was as quiet as ever, but there was a rasp to it now, the threat of who he was less hidden.
Jon’s satisfied air was soured by a grimace. “Not quite, Rickard.” He looked back to Steve. “We must discuss your actions once again, I am afraid Lord Steve.”
“Oh?” Steve said. He had half an idea what this was about, and it was confirmed by the way Jon glanced briefly at Kel.
“I have received many a message since your return, and though they hold different concerns, they all surround one person,” Jon said. It was clear where he was going, and most in the room joined him in taking in Keladry’s appearance. “Your sworn…companion, Lady Keladry.”
Steve cocked a brow, as if confused. “My sworn sword and second in command of my forces, yeah. What about her?”
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Jon began to raise fingers on one hand. “Her gender, the new light it casts on Stoneford’s scandal at Harrenhal, the disgraceful conduct of Lord Burchard, and the presence of a noble lady bearing arms.” He gave a slight cough. “There are many who have an opinion, or who wish their voices heard on this matter.”
“Their opinions don’t matter,” Steve said flatly. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Keladry’s gender is her business, Stoneford tried to blackmail us with it and got what he had coming, Burchard walked a path and found out where it led, and when I recruited my company, I was told I could take who I wished.” He looked between Jon and Hoster, the two who seemed most invested in the conversation. “I’ve been told a few times that I shouldn’t stick my nose in the business of how other lords handle their affairs, but those same lords seem to keep complaining to their superiors about how I do things. If I wanted to be rude, I’d call them out for not having the balls to talk to me about it themselves.”
“Wouldn’t want to be rude,” Brynden muttered, and Elbert coughed, fist over his mouth to hide his twitching lips.
Hoster gave his brother an annoyed glance. “We did agree that you would have the right to approach any of our men, yes,” he said. “However, Lady Keladry’s presence requires greater consideration than simple permission from her lord father.” He threaded his fingers together, resting them on the table. “You do have his permission, yes?”
“Of course I don’t,” Steve said. “I’ve never met the man.” He leaned forward, blue eyes intent. “More importantly, I don’t see why his opinion on the matter would mean a goddamn thing.”
“Lord Steve, please,” Jon said, raising a hand in a calming gesture. “There are expectations and traditions that must be accounted for. Lady Keladry seems to be an able warrior, by all accounts,” and here he glanced at Robert, “but her presence will have effects beyond adding an able warrior to your company. There is a reason women do not go to war.”
“I know you come to us from foreign shores, Lord America,” Hoster said, “but in Westeros, we do things according to our own traditions.” He was sympathetic, as if trying to help Steve understand. “My lords, and many others, are uneasy at the thought of a lady being exposed to the troubles of war.”
“If they have a problem, I’ll make them the same offer I made to Robert’s army,” Steve said. “If they have a problem with who I’ve chosen as my sworn sword, they’re perfectly welcome to meet me in the ring. We’ll do it in batches of twenty, to save time.”
Jon grimaced again. The expression did not look to be one he made regularly, but Steve had that effect on people. “Robert, you have spent the most time with Lord Steve out of any of us here. Might you explain the impact that Lady Keladry’s actions will have?”
Robert had looked to his foster father when he spoke, but he was not quick to answer. He looked to be turning something over in his mind, and he leaned forward, his broad shoulders making his chair seem small. “A woman ought to have the right to choose,” he said slowly, “so long as she has the ability of a man.” He seemed unsure of the words he was speaking, but as he continued he firmed. “Lady Kel has the ability of a man, so if she wants to serve as a man, let her.” He looked around, taking in the expressions that resulted from his words. “What?”
Jon was blinking at Robert, but then his gaze turned to Ned. He received a slight shake in answer, and his lips pursed. “Lord Delnaimn will have the right to take issue with you, should he wish,” he warned Steve. “I cannot intervene in such matters.”
“My father will not trouble you as others have, my lord,” Keladry said, speaking for the first time.
“You are so sure?” Jon asked her.
“I have written to my grandmother,” Keladry said, as if that would explain things.
“Your grand- ah,” Jon said, his frown easing with realisation. “Well.”
Elbert gave his uncle a look of curiosity, but held his tongue.
“We cannot dismiss the concerns of our lords without due consideration,” Hoster said, rapping a fist on the table. “If the filial concerns are not an issue,” and his tone made his doubt clear, “there is also the concern of morale if we force men to fight alongside those they refuse to. A lord ought not give an order that will not be obeyed.”
“If they don’t want to fight alongside a woman, I don’t want to fight alongside them,” Steve said. He was beginning to grow frustrated himself. It seemed that every time he thought he had put paid to some worry over tradition and expectation, another one was raised. “I get that you can’t just dismiss your lords when they come to you, but this is a them problem, not a you problem.”
“Lord America, as you grow older and gain wisdom, you will learn that things are done as they are for a reason,” Hoster said, sighing.
Steve held back his initial reaction, taking in the room. “...how old do you think I am?”
“Your looks may paint you as a fresh knight, but I know you are likely closer to thirty,” Hoster said. “Even so-”
“I’m forty years old.”
Hoster spluttered. “What?”
The others weren’t much more composed.
“Fuck off,” Robert said, almost by reflex. “You are not forty years old.”
Jon was watching him with new eyes, as were Elbert and Brynden.
“You’re not surprised,” Brandon accused his brother, and eyes went to Ned.
Ned gave a slight shrug. “I knew Steve was my senior.” A smile ghosted over his father’s face, but it was gone just as swiftly.
The reveal seemed to have stymied any further arguments from Hoster, and Jon leaned forward once more.
“It is true that those concerning themselves over who Lord Steve chooses to fight with have little right to intrude on such things, but there is still the conflict between the Houses Delnaimn and Burchard themselves,” Jon said, attempting to move on. “If you would have her service and her father is not opposed, that is your right, but I cannot have my bannermen escalating a feud while we are in open rebellion. I will have an answer as to why this is occurring.”
Steve looked back to Kel, happy to let her speak for herself. She inclined her head and stepped forward, but she did not speak. Instead, she reached into a slit in her dress and into a trouser pocket, retrieving a creased and wrinkled envelope. She set it on the table, and slid it across to the man that her family owed their fealty to.
Jon wore a curious look as he took it in, and did not hesitate to open it. He frowned slightly as he began to read. Soon he was frowning deeper, holding the letter closer and sitting forward in his chair, scanning quickly. Once he was done, he went back to read it again, slower this time. He set it down, and looked up to Kel. “Where did you get this?”
“Harrenhal,” Keladry said. “Directly from Stoneford’s possession.”
“Did you know when you fled?” Jon asked.
“No,” Kel said. “I fled because his knight, Ser Vinson Stone, threatened me with rape, and Ser Wyldon killed him for it. Even had I gone on, Joren would have had Tobias killed.”
“Tobias…that’s Kelda’s handmaiden’s boy. The clan raised.”
Keladry nodded, unflinching. “If I was thought dead, or taken by the clans, my House could not be faulted for it, not with my escort having men from Delnaimn and Burchard both.”
A muscle in Jon’s jaw ticked. “Were you aware that when House Delnaimn marched to answer my call, they were almost ambushed as royalists? Denys could not find where that claim arose, but his wife suspected the Burchards.”
“...I was not.”
“Before his death, I had complaints from Lord Burchard that you had fled from your betrothal, and that you had taken your dowry with you,” Jon said, like he was working through a list of grievances.
“If I had, perhaps I wouldn’t have risked starvation as often in the year I spent as a sell sword,” Keladry said.
“Were you aware of this?” Jon asked, shifting his attention to Steve. The angle of the light coming in through the windows left his face half lit, half shadowed. “Is this why you offered your protection?”
“Some,” Steve said. “For me, it was enough that Keladry didn’t want the marriage she was being forced into. That Joren and his men were terrible people was less important.”
“I see,” Jon said, before falling silent. His gaze was distant as he thought, eyes shifting as he considered this or that. When he eventually spoke, it was not to anyone in particular, and his voice was low. “All this,” he said, “over a fucking bridge?”
“A bridge?” Robert asked, uncowed - or perhaps just accustomed - by the anger on display.
Jon threw down the letter and flicked it towards the stormlord.
“Stoneford wrote this - was this before or after he tried to blackmail you?” Robert asked.
Steve was still trying to remember where the letter had come from, and he glanced at Kel.
“Before,” Keladry answered. “We found it when we sought to discover if a search of his rooms would reveal evidence to shame him, shortly after the blackmail attempt.”
More than one gaze fell on Steve as others remember just how the confrontation with Stoneford had gone down, reviewing the events in a new light and finding fresh cause for wariness of the foreign warrior’s ability.
“The letter you asked to see while we checked - it’s that one?” Steve asked, remembering now, and she nodded. “Huh.” He had been focused on other things, the fact that she hadn’t given the letter back had completely slipped by him.
“An explanation, if you don’t mind,” Hoster pressed, looking from Keladry to the letter that Robert was passing over to Ned.
“Burchard envies Delnaimn. My marriage was supposed to address some of the cause,” Keladry said. “When I disappeared, Joren tried to use that to claim ownership of a bridge that gives access to some of our lands; without it we would have to risk clan territory. They wished to bar our use of it and see the fields fall into disrepair, so they might petition for ownership due to negligence.”
“A fucking bridge,” Brandon said, echoing Jon’s words. “Harrenhal, the rumours, the duel - all that for a bridge and a few fields.”
“Enough.” Rickard’s voice was not loud, but it commanded the attention of all in the room all the same. “This matters little. Jon?”
“I agree,” Jon said. He smoothed his expression, hiding the anger he felt. “I will deal with the Burchards when I have less pressing matters to attend to.”
“Then we will discuss the other matter,” Rickard said.
“Rickard,” Hoster said, corner of his mouth creasing as Rickard’s gaze fell on him. “We must discuss those matters, but they will no doubt be the last…should we not conclude this, first?” He inclined his head towards Steve.
Rickard’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but he gave a single nod.
“Right, this one is on me,” Robert said, dragging his attention away from Rickard and Hoster - whatever it was they were talking around, he wasn’t privy to it. “Steve, we owe you. My lords are asking about it, and some are nervous that you’re holding out for this or that privilege or what have you.”
“We’ve spoken about this, yeah,” Steve acknowledged.
“But they can’t just take a damned answer so-” Robert pulled a face, and dragged himself back on track. “I might’ve hinted that you’ve got plans in the east,” he said, apologetic now, “but that only kept the quiet for a few days, and now that gossip is really spreading, everything else you’ve done is going to come out so it’ll be just as bad for the rest.” He gestured broadly at the other high lords.
“So, what,” Steve said, “you need to give me something?”
“We need you to ask for a boon, and be seen asking,” Jon told him. “Frankly, you are owed several, and it embarrasses us that we have not shown our thanks for what you have done. Freeing the hostages from Aerys, retrieving Kelda from the clans, what you did for young Lord Stannis, your raid across the Reach, your part in destroying the chevauchée south of the Gods Eye…” he shook his head. “Before we can begin to consider how to reward you, you are off to do another deed worthy of it.”
“The war hasn’t helped,” Brynden said. “I spoke with my brother about what you did for Lysa when he first brought her home, and what we could do for you in turn, but you were already out of reach.”
Steve glanced at Rickard. The man was watching him, perhaps remembering a conversation they had once had, but he held his tongue. He made a show of thinking about what they told him. He knew what would help him and his, but he didn’t know what was asking for too much or too little, and he also knew there was a reason or two they had brought this up after the matters of Deddings and Kel had been settled.
“If I didn’t think your lady would take her sword to me for the offer,” Robert said, “I’d offer you the hand of a fine Stormlands lass. I’ve an Estermont cousin who would like you well.”
“Naerys and I might have some opinions on that, yeah,” Steve told him, but he only laughed.
“Once this war is through, there are several keeps that will lack lords,” Hoster said, gesturing broadly to nothing in particular. “For saving my daughter, lordship over one would be a worthy reward.”
“Lordship of a fief would be quite the responsibility, and commitment,” Steve said, leaning back and allowing his gaze to rise up the stone of the room walls, as if coming to terms with the sheer generosity of the offer.
Hoster gave a gracious incline of his head, not the least offended.
“Do not be afraid to ask for something concrete,” Jon added. “Rights or privileges in Gulltown for a duration would see you in good stead for your life with your lady.”
“Steve. My offer stands,” Rickard said. There were bags under his eyes, but the eyes themselves were pits that seemed to judge and discard whatever they fell upon. “I can’t give you an army, but get my daughter back and you’ll have a kingdom’s aid.”
“We’ll get Lyanna back,” Steve told him, letting his put on appreciation fall away. “If that means you and your armies taking King’s Landing, or me slipping in to get her out, or finding out if Aerys has her held somewhere else, we’ll get her back safe.” His surety was iron, like there was no question to it.
Rickard gave him a single nod, and then seemed to resign himself to continuing to endure another conversation he had little interest in.
“Aye, we’ll get her back,” Robert said, rumbling his own surety. “They don’t have the stones or the men to keep us from her.” He set a heavy fist on the table, and it shook. “You just give us an idea of what you want to ask for, Steve, so we can get this done and be back to planning the march on Harrenhal.”
Steve leaned back, considering. He knew the value of what was being offered here, but there were many things he could ask for. He could greatly ease the cost of equipping his forces, or secure state aid in approaching Braavos, or even gain access to a large pool of blooded soldiers for recruitment.
These were mostly things he could achieve on his own, however. If he was to ask for a boon that would benefit him and could not be easily gained except through connections… “Harbour rights,” Steve said, looking between the high lords. “If my ships need a berth, you’ll find one for them, along with all that comes with one.”
It was not what they had been expecting, but as they considered it, they found themselves liking it.
“An easy thing to command done,” Hoster mused.
“You have many ships, Lord Steve?” Jon asked, mentally marking down sums.
“Two, for now,” Steve said. “There will be more.” He didn’t want to blindside them, after all.
“He picked up two on his journey from Gulltown to Storm’s End,” Robert said. “Pirates, slavers, both. Boarded and claimed them.”
“A cheap purchase,” Elbert cracked.
“There will be more,” Steve said again.
“White Harbor will provide,” Rickard said.
His words seemed to push the others into agreement.
“Gulltown, likewise, has many berths,” Jon said. “We could also arrange for warehousing, as needed.”
“Maidenpool and Saltpans may not be cities, but they will have berths for you,” Hoster added. “Once we take Maidenpool, I will have some Mooton port properties deeded to you. Merchants are forever seeking such things, and it will serve you well.”
“Your ships are at Tarth now, but I can offer you Weeping Town in the future,” Robert said. “It’s a busy little place, sees a lot of trade.”
He hadn’t asked for the harbour rights for trade, but he’d find a use for warehousing and other waterfront properties, he was sure. “I appreciate your generosity. I’ll be sure to ask for it where I can be overheard.”
“That will ease a number of concerns and jealousies,” Jon said, and Hoster nodded with a grimace as he noted something down on a piece of parchment before him.
“Until the next battle, at least,” Brandon said, lip curling up as he invited his friends to share the joke. Robert and Elbert huffed at him, but Ned and Brynden shook their heads, knowing truth when they heard it.
“We’d be about done then, wouldn’t we?” Robert asked. One knee had been bouncing under the table for a few minutes now, and it was clear he was eager to get outside into the sun.
“No,” Rickard said.
Robert frowned. “Did I forget - ah, you had that thing you wanted to talk about, right?”
“Edmure,” Hoster said over his shoulder, “why don’t you go fetch us a jug of applewater, there’s a good lad. Don’t forget cups.”
“Yes father,” Edmure said, quickly stepping away from the wall he had been trying to blend in with for much of the meeting.
When the door closed behind him, a more serious mood seemed to fall over the room. Steve was no longer the focus, and he noticed that the others were all looking to Robert. No one seemed to want to speak first.
“Ned,” Rickard said, not looking towards him. “You asked for the right.”
“I did,” Ned said. His expression was still, and he turned to face his foster brother more fully. “Robert, there’s something we’ve been keeping from you.”
“What is it?” Robert asked, full of sudden caution and dread. “She’s not dead. I’d know. You wouldn’t be - I’d know.”
“Three months ago,” Ned said slowly, “we were sent a severed foot by Aerys that he claimed belonged to Lyanna.”
Robert went still. “He. What.”
Steve eased his chair out a touch. Maybe he had been invited to this meeting for reasons beyond casual conversation.