Heir

Tankard in hand and swaying slightly on his legs, a frown furrowed golden brow as the precious liquid sloshed out onto the floor and splashed over his boots. Alcohol addled mind struggled to comprehend that it was his unsteadiness that had caused such a thing when to the young lord’s mind he was fighting fit. So much so that although at moments such like this the chances of him being able to use his sword were slim to none and yet he would have little issue in rising to the challenge should a brawl or some other kind of tangle of limbs come his way. Pouting slightly at the wasted liquor he supposed he should find himself lucky that that was the most pressing of his worries.

( it was hardly as though he had anything more serious to worry about when The Vale was still in the safe hands of his great-uncle and unlikely to fall into his )

Maron’s voice pulled his gaze upward from where it had been fixed in a scowl, grin instantly breaking across it at the sight of his friend. Finger lifted to wag slightly at the other man, as though he was scolding him for something before a chuckle escaped his lips feeling as though he knew something that the sailor didn’t. “Ah but you see, my friend, the headache will fade but the memories will last a lifetime.” Another cup was grabbed for himself before his free arm was flung around the shoulders of the other man. “So I will take another ale and I urge you to do the same.”

@youngfclcon The Crownlands

When Andar had left the Vale for the summit at Dragonstone, he’d known that the politics of the venture were precarious. Lord Baelish still had both Lady Arryn [ or Lady Baelish as she’d often insisted on being called, much to the disgust of the Lord Declarant ] and her son under his thumb. While the Vale was not in open civil war, there was an unrest that blanketed the mountainous region. The insular nature of the Vale made the politics that much more difficult to traverse; Valemen did not wish to bring shame to their families or to their names, but they also did not tolerate being manipulated and told they could no longer converse with each other.

The death of Lady Lysa had changed everything.

Instead of returning to the Vale with information from the summit, Andar had stayed to represent his father and their interests. The Wights and White Walkers were the most pressing issue – most of the Valemen felt similary – but at some point, they would need to decide who would rule the Vale. Robert Arryn, of course, had the best claim, but he was sickly and easily manipulated. If – and this was a big if – he survived the coming war, Andar thought it unlikely he’d survive to adulthood.

But therein lied the crux of the problem; no one wished to bring shame to their families, but the Lords Declarant also knew that the Vale could no longer continue being run as it had been. It was a mess on all sides and as he sat at a desk on the opposite side of Harry, he leaned back and sighed. “We can’t allow that man to remain Lord Protector of the Vale when Lord Arryn is no longer in his custody,” Andar remarked. “The issue of the Others is more pressing, of course, but we cannot simply ignore this either. I don’t desire to come back from war to find the Vale in disarray.”

It was not often that he felt any sort of inadequacy but the heir of Runestone was a man to be admired and one he was thankful to be able to count among his friends and not his enemy. Perhaps inadequacy was too strong of a word but there was no denying that Harry so often felt the need to give the older man the very best that he had to offer, digging deep to find anything within himself that could plausibly make him feel more of an equal. Only a few years separated the two of them and yet the blond was left feeling infinitely younger than the other if only because he seemed to possess a maturity vastly higher than his own.   

 A sort of gravitas had overcome the younger Lord partly in an attempt to feel more worth of the position he knew many were hoping him to take but more so from knowing that stakes were high and the fate of his home hung in the balance. Solemn nod of golden head was given in acknowledgement and agreement, knowing fine well that anything that Baelish had in store for the Vale would likely conflict with everything that it had once stood for. “I agree, we must simply decide the best course of action for us.” The words are given thoughtfully, his usual assertiveness lacking for once as though he was worried that Andar might consider himself a better option to hold the power.

Silence that had fallen between them is broken by the clearing of his throat, having taken a moment to weigh his next words before delivering them. Undoubtedly there would be eyes and ears everywhere but none of his plans involved stealth when that was undeniably his opponent’s strength. “As you know, I spoke to many of the lords before I journeyed here - your father included - and I am confident that I would have enough backing to tear our home from his clutches. I know I may perhaps not be the most worthy but I do have the best claim and assurances that others would rally behind me.” Sky blue eyes studied the other man keenly to judge how his words were going down. “I intend to move against him, with the support of as many as possible. Then once our home is secure we can dedicate our forces to the defeat of The Others. I will not see The Vale fail to act any longer.”

“In an ideal world a man would not have to choose between two such things. Honour and responsibility seem to ask that I place The Vale above all else and I have been doing much better at listening to such things recently. A political marriage is still very much an option should it be needed to secure the future of my people.” 

in  many  ways,  the  boys  had  bonded  over  their  concealed  insecurities  as  both  carried  the  title  of  heir  (  whether  by  true  descent  or  distant  relation  )  and  the  last  hopes  of  their  respective  lands  upon  their  shoulders.  any  signs  of  weakness  was  often  exploited  or  mocked  though  no  cruelty  had  been  exchanged  in  the  years  that  they  had  spent  together  ─  that  edmure  would  use  such  a  phrase  against  his  oldest  friend  now,  as  an  insult  to  his  honor  as  a  knight,  was  no  doubt  the  lowest  blow  he  could  bestow  on  harry  and  though  regret  flooded  his  mouth  with  something  sour,  pride  would  not  permit  tongue  to  utter  apologies  till  tempers  were  cooled.  ❝  what  kind  of  man  uses  a  defenseless  child  as  a  stepping  stone  to  greatness  ?  ❞  words  that  did  not  need  uttering,  for  littlefinger  was  hardly  an  honorable  man.  it  was  a  shame  that  edmure  even  thought  of  him  as  a  friend,  all  those  years  ago.

❝  she  adored  him.  he  could  do  no  wrong.  if  he  had  asked  …  she  would  have  agreed.  ❞  though  he  had  been  young,  he  remembered  the  petty  arguments  that  arose  due  to  petyr’s  infatuations  with  surprising  vividness.  looking  back,  had  lysa’s  refusal  to  join  forces  with  the  north  stemmed  from  her  concerns  for  her  son  or  from  a  hold  onto  an  age - old  grudge  between  sisters  ?  he  had  believed  that  he  knew  his  sister  like  the  back  of  his  hand  but  such  revelations  caused  doubts  to  rise  like  bile  in  his  throat.  ❝  you  speak  as  though  you  mean  to  stop  him.  i  cannot  pretend  that  i  possess  any  power  in  the  vale  to  make  a  difference  but  …  robin  is  my  nephew.  i  care  more  for  his  life  than  his  claim  as  lord  of  the  eyrie.  tell  me  what  is  on  your  mind.  ❞

Proudly set jaw found itself briefly clenched tightly as the Young Falcon felt his mood darkening while he thought about the man who sought to remove his home from its rightful rulers, from the people who inhabited it. Jaw loosens but only so words can grind out, his frustration clearly punctuated. “A man that lies with lions but only holds his own best interests as precious.” Not that long ago perhaps the same could have been said of him - that he was a man who only his own future as important - and in truth he was no sure he could argue with such a remark when the folly of youth had rendered him so blind to the needs of others. But now he liked to consider himself somewhat changed, or at the very least changing and as such he now cared deeply about what the future would hold for The Vale not simply because of what it would mean for him but how it would impact its people. That was why when he spoke tone held a firm resolve. “A man we need to stop.”

The true heir was his friend’s nephew and as such he knew he had to proceed with caution, as just moments ago had shown, and as such he chose his next words with care. “I hold no ill intentions towards the boy. The Vale is his birthright but I think we can both agree that any realisation of that now will simply lead to Baelish tightening his grip on it all.” A pause was given to allow words to sink in, hoping that sense would hold over that burning loyalty that Edmure held.  “I mean to move against him and I have the assurance from enough Valelords to be reasonably confident of success. Then I aim to hold the Vale and have it be useful until a time where Robert might be able to rule.” In truth he was not sure that such a time would ever truly come but the boy deserved a chance - after all, hadn’t he himself been unfit to rule for so long? Perhaps still was.

The constant slough between the mainland and Dragonstone was beginning to bore Maron, and certainly his crew also. He consoled himself with the knowledge that this would all bear fruit when victory was won over the wights and the mainlanders could all go back to their squabbling and he could go back to Pyke where he belonged. While he oversaw the unloading of more dragonglass from the Kiss, he marvelled at the men from every corner of the kingdoms putting aside their innate hatred of each other to work towards scattering wight carcasses from Eastwatch to the Bay of Ice. There were ironborn sailors carrying chests full of dragonglass with Northmen, while Unsullied fell into step with Valeman down the beach. Nearly every face was unfamiliar, and Maron had no intention of seeing any old friends amongst the crowd until that shock of blond hair and endearingly arrogant smirk was caught his peripheral.

It had been a long time since Maron had been just Maron, a titleless boy by omission with an accent of the Iron Islands and an affinity to ale being the only things that tied him to the seat he was one day destined to rule. The times he had spent riding from port to the nearest town tavern, usually in the Vale where his face was anonymous and the mead ran plentifully, were some of the happiest he could recall. Whether that was the consequence of plenty of alcohol, or the fast friend he had made in a man of the Vale with just as much appetite for drunkenness and the ensuing escapades as he did. 

The Rebellion had ended his youth when it came and was lost - leaving him scarred, brotherless, and deeply out of touch with the boy he had been. Two years bed-bound had crawled past, and by the time he was well enough to sail again, he had the pressure of heir on his shoulders as it had never been before and the knowledge that his friend would have probably given up on coming to their regular tavern months and months ago. Maron had accepted the fact they would never see him again, though now as he recognised him a rare smile leapt to his features. His first assumption was that Harry was here amongst the Valemen - he, of course, had no reason to suspect any different - though the way he held himself was as lordly as it came. Perhaps it was bravado to substitute for disappointment at seeing him again, or the physical manifestation of anger bristling within him at the memories of Maron never showing to their regular meetings. “I had not thought it would be ever. It’s been too long, Harry. I’m glad to see you.” Maron desperately wanted to embrace his friend like they had used to, but sensed his explanation should come first for his disappearance. “I always wondered how to make contact with you again, but came up blank on where to start - seems my mind was too muddled with liquor whenever we met to ever think to ask where to find you.” 

Pride was such a fickle thing and with age came that dawning realisation that made him wonder why he had always kept it in such close acquaintance. For years it had been his constant companion, keeping his head held high and chest puffed out with the flattering words of others only encouraging him to believe that he was right to do so. While it had spurred him on in the pursuit of greatness - further things he could decorate himself with other than simply being Harry the Heir - it had taken some time for him to understand that true greatness was not from how many tourneys he had to his name but rather the effect that could have on others. That would be what made him the subject of songs and for too long hubris had kept him oh so blind to that fact.

Now it was threatening to do so again with the way it smarted upon seeing the other man once more. Perhaps it was simply a mark of how much he had valued the friendship that the two had shared - a simplicity to it that meant things flowed far more easily with him than so many others. There had been no expectations of him other than to simply be a good drinking companion and provide some entertainment for the evening, things that he had always been able to manage with some ease when ale made him even more bold and open to debauchery. Of course it mattered not that he had left such days behind him when at the time of Maron’s disappearance he had still be in the thick of such pastimes and left wondering why a man he considered a true friend had turned his back on him. After years of being told he was worthy of all things, it had stung to think that the man opposite did not think him worthy of his company any more and he had been left feeling part betrayed and part doubting himself.

“What they deserve, I like that.” She chuckled. “So honourable you are, putting the needs of the realm before such trivial things.” Jaeyi said, her voice sly and her eyes dancing with amusement. “Though I would be apprehensive to fight you even so, I should not think I would be very popular if it was by my hand that a young lord like yourself was hurt.” She did not doubt his ability to fight, but she was almost certain of this man’s origins - Redscale would be willing to place money on the fact that he sat to inherit large power and lands some day in the near future. She had travelled extensively in both the West and East, and encountered many lordlings with his airs of confidence that erred on the side of arrogance. This one, however, she liked more than most - the mischievous way his smile came so easily to his lips, and his company did nothing to unsettle him here, where the common folk brawled and drank to their hearts’ content. 

“Am I right in assuming this, my lord?” She asked, enjoying her teasing game whether she had won it or not. Truth be told she would love to best a young man like this, one who presented him so like the knights of song she had so badly wanted to emulate as a child and now wanted to out-do as a woman. 

Usually proudly set shoulders rolled into a shrug all too happy to condemn his fellow men if their vanity made them overestimate themselves, even if he was guilt of doing the same. “If they underestimate you they deserve a comeuppance.” Smile tugged at the corner of his mouth upon hearing sly words but he keeps up his pretence of dutiful lord even if he lays it on purposely thick with a firm nod as he speaks. “In times like these it would be folly not to.” Grin spread across handsome features as shoulders squared once more and chest broadened to make himself appear more of a worth opponent, partially in jest and partially to indulge his own ego when he had yet to master setting it to one side entirely. “Of course, I fancy my chances but it would be an unsightly amount of vanity to assume that I would come off entirely unscathed.” Bold words followed by something of a concession when he knew that despite his own skill he ha just chastised other men for diminishing hers and it did not do well to fall into the same pitfalls they had before their defeat.

Laughter flowed forth at the confidence the warrior exuded when he always found it easy to admire in others while he was laden with it himself. In the lord’s mind it did no harm to back yourself, after all no one else was guaranteed to. “I would say that there would be a few you would undoubtedly not be popular with.” He leaned in somewhat, acting as though they were suddenly conspirators as his tone hushed.  “If you were to triumph I would recommend perhaps avoiding the Vale.”

as a young girl, she had tutted and rolled her eyes whenever harry the heir preened and she was made to play nice. many a pout had been thrown her mother’s way as he insisted she must play the damsel in the tower for the knights to save, for she was the smallest and not old enough to play the witch. as they grew, every offer for a dance had been met only begrudgingly and she made sure to complain loudly when he fell out of step with her. not once had she softened to his charms, and may have doubled down on her stubbornness to only further bring her point home. there was little difference now, but her quips and raised brows held an air of fondness that only years of friendship could grant. he was still a pain in the neck, and she would no doubt scold him for the rest of his days, but she adored his company all the same. and so she allows him a true laugh, one she must halt as fingertips press to her lips. “so well organised, i commend your preparation. quite the grown up aren’t you?”

the slight lady’s mouth twitches at the familiar nickname, and a roll of her eyes is thrown in for good measure, but it sounds far better than other names she has come to know. “i doubt many can, it is a skill that takes many years to perfect and you simply don’t have the time to practice. you do well for one so busy, that i can grant you.” there had been little room for such harmless banter since her arrival, everyone far too fraught with grief or tense for the wars to come, her included. the weight around her heart lightens, even if only for a moment, and she allows herself to indulge in smiles and harmless japes. an offended look is aimed his way as he bends for her, because of course lyarra of cerwyn could have managed without, despite the fact that she no doubt would have strained her neck. stubborn as always. “nothing of great entertainment, but if you fill my cup i might be able to rustle up something worthy of the great harrold hardyng’s ears.” she retorts drily, “surely you have better stories.”

His life had been filled with knowing when to smile and how to smile, always charming and always gallant and yet there were few people who could bring forth such a genuine smile onto his features. Perhaps it was because all the compliments directed his way had steadily seemed more hollow over the years, just pretty words to endear him to them should he end up finally grasping the power that had always just been out of reach. Her words bring forth a chuckle having grown to admire her boldness where in their youth it had somewhat chaffed at his pride but now he simply knew to meet her toe to toe as best he could. “One has to be prepared if they are to shield their hearts and pride from your icy wit.” While the smile remained on his mouth the light in his eyes dimmed slight at his next words, tone growing slightly heavier. “We all have to grow up sometime.” They were words he was only beginning to learn, arguably too late when years of indulging his every whim had left him with no great deeds to be sung of. Instead he had two daughters approaching their tenth year whom he barely knew and nothing to truly show for all he was supposed to be the perfect lord that the Vale had so craved.

Mock gasp slipped from his lips and hand clutched at his chest in feigned distress. “You mean to say all my years of practise have bore no fruits? You wound me, my lady.” While handsome features put on a convincing enough display it was sky blue eyes glimmering with humour gave his little act upon. Shoulders straighten as though he has pulled himself away from such anguish, firm in his decision. “It leaves me no option but to devote further time to this endeavour.” Perhaps one day he would be truly capable of surviving more than a few rounds of verbal sparring with her but for now he would take whatever chance at conversation he could get. “I think filling anyone’s cup would loosen their lips enough that they would be able to spin a tall tale or two.” Golden brow raised as smirk tugged at his lips, plucking the cup from her hands before refilling it and finding an ale for himself. “Ah but you would have heard all of mine by now, it seems people are fond of telling them.” Smooth movements embellished with a playful bow hold the cup out to her once more before features take on a rare sincerity when she is one of the few whose lives he truly cares about. “It is you I want to hear about, Lyarra.”

Pride meant that although he often came back sporting clothes which spoke of the work, adorned with dirt and sweat, never lasted long once he had returned. Garments changed and grime scrubbed off, he looked more like the lord he had been groomed to be than simply another of the workers. Confident steps made quick work of the corridors as he made his way towards the great hall, only stopping when he saw an unfamiliar blonde seemingly battle with a heavy armful. Ever endeavouring to be the knight from songs, the blond moved closer and addressed her. “May I be of assistance, my lady?”

☪      NOW    I     RISE     SENTENCE     PROMPTS   .  

*   TAKEN FROM THE BOOK ‘ NOW I RISE ‘ , CHANGE PRONOUNS AS YOU WISH !

❝ Hold hands with the devil until you are both over the bridge. ❞

❝ Or kill the devil and burn the bridge so no one can get to you. ❞

❝ The world will destroy her in the end. ❞

❝ No one will be more brutal than me.. ❞

❝ No one will be more ruthless. And I will never stop fighting. ❞

❝ I wonder if anyone gets through childhood without being broken. ❞

❝ Mercy is the one thing I cannot afford. Not yet. ❞

❝ What we do now, we do so that someday mercy will be able to survive here. ❞

❝ Why must I always be a man’s servant? ❞

❝ If anything, I should be partners with the devil, not his servant. ❞

❝ Do not lose that hunger. ❞

❝ You will always have to fight for everything. ❞

❝ Even when you already have it, you will have to keep fighting to maintain it. ❞

❝ You will have to be more ruthless, more brutal, more everything. ❞

❝ Any weakness will undo everything you have accomplished. ❞

❝ If I wanted shit, I would have visited the privy, not asked for an audience with you. ❞

❝ My fierce little girl. You can do anything. ❞

❝ Time, the moon, arguments, and, most of all, coins. ❞

❝ I cannot imagine a god who hates anything that is love! ❞

❝ I never want you to hate yourself for any love that is in you. ❞

❝ I do not know how to live in a world where everyone is right and everyone is wrong. ❞

❝ I do not know who I am anymore. ❞

❝ I do not take orders from women. ❞

❝ My men do not have a similar problem.  ❞

❝ The man fell, a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. ❞

❝ We saw everything that was not ours, and we hungered. ❞

❝ Do not lose that hunger. You will always have to fight for everything. ❞

❝ She was tired of being in control all the time, tired of worrying, tired of waiting. ❞

❝ I wish you had been my father. ❞

❝ I made him into someone I do not know.  ❞

❝ I do not want to imagine a world in which you are not you. ❞

❝ You carry too much hope, and it will canker in your soul like an infection. ❞

❝ Hope was an arrow that never ceased piercing his heart. ❞

❝ When you start lower, you have to fight for every scrap of space you occupy in the world… ❞

❝ I had more luck than you. ❞

❝ The more pliable the prince, the more power they had. ❞

❝ And who could be more pliable than a simple girl, playing at the throne? ❞

❝ Hatred makes monsters of all of us. ❞

❝ I am going to give the wrong impression, wearing this. ❞

❝ You mean a good impression? ❞

❝ She would not wish any part of herself away. ❞

❝ It is easier to build than to destroy. ❞

❝ What a luxury honesty was. ❞

❝ Did he know everything, too? Were none of her humiliations private? ❞

❝ Are you sure you do not want curtains?  ❞

❝ I hate this castle and every room in it. I do not care what it looks like. ❞

❝ The last caravan they robbed had been filled with fine clothing. ❞

❝ Well, I thought they might be pretty. ❞

❝ But, certainly, they can double as weapons. You are very practical. ❞  

❝ That would fit better if it were designed for a man. ❞

❝ But it set off the color of your eyes so nicely. ❞

❝ Do not blaspheme, young man. ❞

❝ But roughly two men in support for every one man fighting. ❞

❝ How can our God ever withstand the ferocity of this faith? ❞

❝ That still leaves sixty thousand? Seventy thousand? ❞

❝ No one will be more brutal than me. No one will be more ruthless. ❞

❝ Too much spark leads to explosions. ❞

❝ But your sister will destroy as much as she can before she goes out. ❞

❝ She will go down in flames and blood. ❞

❝ He would die on the wall tonight, between his brothers and his enemies. ❞

❝ They had finally come to the end. ❞

❝ Whichever side won, neither would triumph. ❞

❝ He sent none to me when I took my throne in spite of him. ❞

❝ You did not choose right.  ❞

❝ She would have to cut her way through the world, uphill, for the rest of her life. ❞

❝ I would have visited the privy, not asked for an audience with you.❞

❝ Her merits, her accomplishments, her strength would never speak for themselves.  ❞

❝ I want you to find that same love. ❞

❝ Everything else can fall by the road and be trodden underfoot as we pass to our home.  ❞

❝ By my estimations, there are almost two hundred thousand men out there. ❞

Trepidation was equally unfamiliar to him, so much so that the feeling was almost so foreign he was unsure what it truly was. Still, ever the practised lord in waiting no such thing showed on his features or confident stance and voice still carried strongly. “King Robb.” Small incline of golden head was given, more in respect than acknowledgement of the other’s title when alliances technically lie elsewhere. “I have come to be of use in whatever possible.” He was well aware that his offer came late when the Vale had not truly entered the fray but it was something he was keen to rectify, starting with that very moment.

Pure blue becomes swirled with grey, like storm clouds gathering in clear heavens. Expression darkens somewhat when the fate she had suffered would never cease to be a source of frustration for him. Not aimed at her ( never at her ) but at the men who had been able to call themselves her husbands, for treating her ill, for not surviving, for leaving her widowed four more times than she deserved. Perhaps the worst of all this was the slow, burning anger that he aimed at himself for allowing it to have happened - as though he could have truly done something about all of it.

( oh but he could have, couldn’t he? if only he had not allowed himself to be so blinded by youthful ignorance and mind clouded by vanity that there would be time once he had had his fun ) 

Strong jawline loosens slightly from the tightness he had allowed it to take as though grinding his teeth together might somehow lessen the feeling. The anger filters from his gaze but its intensity remains as he find himself unable to hold his tongue although eloquence deserts him for a moment. “You are more than a void, Lyarra.” Heartbeats pass in the silence between them and his voice lowers to something almost pleading when he had always seen so much more in her than her own view of herself had twisted to show. “Do not let yourself simply be nothing more than a wife to ghosts.”

Mirth was never far from his sky blue gaze as he looked upon the Lady Cerwyn when amusement was always so easily found in her company. The sharp wit that so often fell from her lips in that cool Northern way would never cease to bring a smirk tugging at his mouth even if it was at his own expense. However this evening ale had meant that she was favouring her stubbornness over wit, keen as ever to prove her worth in the world of men. “I would pay good gold to see you crush anyone.” It was a low jab at her size but the young falcon had long since learnt not to discount her simply based on how delicate her slight build made her seem. There was Northern ice and strength in her core that made her as equally formidable as any of the warriors they had brought.

But respect had never been something uttered between them despite him feeling confident it existed in mutual amounts. Instead a hand was waved lazily towards the men in question, content to let her have her way when he was prepared to step in if needed. “But by all means, have at them.” 

A generous sip is taken from his tankard as he leans back in his chair in preparation for the potential show to come. “I will take careful note of how it unfolds and be sure to spin this tale into a song told for generations.” Hands lift as though to frame his words, beginning to tell her story already before the act had even unfolded. “The Little Ice Queen takes on the world.”

the  trout  and  the  falcon  had  first  met  when  edmure  had  been  sent  to  the  vale  on  his  sixteenth  year,  not  too  soon  after  lysa  had  lost  her  second  child  in  the  womb  ─  a  visit  meant  to  comfort  her  with  the  presence  of  family  after  such  a  painful  experience  though  his  sister  only  saw  hoster  tully  in  the  concerned  lines  of  his  young  face  and  often  dismissed  him  from  her  sight  impulsively  and  without  much  care.  harry  hardyng  had  grown  to  become  the  closest  thing  he  had  to  a  brother  in  such  a  turbulent  world  and  it  felt  wrong  to  accuse  him,  to  think  him  capable  of  such  monstrosities,  remorse  immediately  settling  against  the  grief - tinged - wrath  haze  had  clouded  his  thoughts.  the  lord’s  grip  loosened  ever  so  slightly  from  the  heir’s  collar,  the  warmth  of  harry’s  hand  seeping  through  fabric  to  rest  upon  his  shoulder,  heavy  and  grounding.  

❝  do  they  not  name  you  harry  the  heir  ?  would  you  not  seize  this  chance  to  place  truth  to  the  title  ?  ❞  a  challenge  that  lacks  bite,  the  slackening  grip  falling  from  where  it  had  once  been,  pressed  against  the  other’s  chest.  despite  the  need  to  lay  blame  upon  another’s  feet,  edmure  knew  the  young  falcon  to  be  a  man  above  tricks  and  assassinations,  a  man  much  like  himself,  who  only  had  the  best  interests  of  their  lands  at  heart.  ❝  …  i  had  heard  of  her  marriage  to  the  little  fucker.  you  truly  believe  him  capable  of  … hurting  the  child  ?  or  rather,  using  the  child  for  his  advantage  ?  i  know  lysa  wanted  robin  weak  and  with  her  but  surely  she  would  not  endanger  him  for  love.  ❞  even  as  he  spoke,  he  knew  the  error  in  his  words  ─  lysa  loved  only  one  man  and  that  man  was  petyr  baelish.  not  even  blood  could  surpass  such  devotion.

Patience worn thin at the other’s accusations ( though perhaps only because they hit close to the bone when on more than one occasion in his youth such thoughts had entered his head ) and words snapped out from his mouth now set with frustration rather than his usual pride. “They do.” Air was inhaled sharply before he forced himself to release it slowly in an attempt to regain some semblance of the composure he always strove for. A sigh comes next and a hand is raked through golden hair as though it might release some of the tension building within him. “And perhaps I have guilty of encouraging it in my vanity but it is not my power to seize.” It was a rare admission of his flaws, one that he would not have voiced were it not to someone he deemed close enough to see such a failing without fear of them turning away. His whole life he had been built up to be a golden lord, the epitome of what a ruler should be and yet age had only made him realise he fell so short of such heights. Worry at being found to be so lacking constantly plagued him.

Golden head shook slightly at his friend’s words, knowing he had little to say in the way of soothing any worries. “I do not believe he would hurt him but I cannot say that it would be out of care for the child.” Robert would be used as a bargaining chip if he had any sense and unfortunately for them all Littlefinger was more cunning than perhaps both of them combined. He had always lacked guile, instead relying on flattery and respect to get him what he wanted. Their rival was altogether more underhand and that was a thing that the young falcon was unsure how best to combat. Entering into a lifesize game of chess with a man who held most of the pieces seemed to be folly but he knew they had little choice in the matter. “Baelish is persuasive, I do not know how much of a hold her had over your sister but he carried sway. I fear he has only used it to consolidate his power in the Vale.”

Memories flooded to mind of times he had always viewed with fondness until they had been tinged with a bitterness that came with the abrupt nature that their times together had ended. The man before him had been a companion almost unrivalled in his esteem ( perhaps only challenged by his friendship with the Lord of Riverrun ) and many hours had been spent in his company, indulging their love of ale and adventures. Yet it had all come to an unexpected end, leaving him smarting.

Wounded pride was not something the young lord had had to endure when most of the Vale had only sought to shower him with flattery that in truth he had done nothing to deserve. His likeness to the late and great Lord Arryn had perhaps been the source of it, nostalgia endearing him to the people. Or perhaps his own vanity had simply matched that of the other inhabitants of his home, reflected in their longing for a seemingly perfect specimen to lead them in trying times. Whatever the true reasons for it all might be, the young falcon supposed he would never truly know, nor did it matter when the effects were known no matter their cause. Reject was foreign to him and yet the man before him had seemingly been able to set their friendship aside and that was a blow which had not lost its sting. Shoulders squared proudly, chin rising to ensure he looked every inch a lord as cool tone fell from his proud mouth. “I hadn’t thought it would be here that we would meet again.”