The Redfish (Edmure SI) chapter 125

The wedding of the lord of the North

Edmure POV

Beneath the windows of the Guest House, an underground hot spring feeds three small pools, with only wooden walls separating them for some privacy. To quite Arianne, it was the best part of Winterfell. I couldn’t disagree with her on that one. We would soak in the hot waters every evening and morning, drinking wine and enjoying each other.

The wedding was only a few days away, and as more quests arrived, I heard more complaints that we occupied one of three pools for ourselves. Nobody, of course, dared to voice their complaints in our faces. But I did feel a bit bad for them, though not bad enough to vacate the pool for others. What was the point of all my hard work if I couldn’t use my power and influence in these situations?

“The King should arrive early tomorrow morning, from what I heard,” Arianne said with her head on my shoulder. “He is running on a tight schedule.”

“Who isn’t?” I asked, a bit annoyed that Arianne would bring that up now. “Lysa and her son might come on the wedding day with Brynden. The Redwynes and the Hightowers will come with the King. And even Rooyces and Manderlys arrived only yesterday.”

“Just saying,” Arianne caught my unpleasant. “House Yronwood arrived yesterday with Tarlys and Carons.”

“I wonder why,” I smiled, as both of us knew that Lord Yronwood was looking only to make connections, so he joined Lord Tarly and Lord Caron.

“Is it that wrong to do that?” Arianne asked. “I rather like how obvious Lord Yronwood is. I don’t even need spies to know what he is planning. It is a nice change of pace.”

I decided to ignore her for the rest of the evening. After Robb’s wedding, I will be forced to join the political world of Westeros once again in a few days. But for now, all I wanted and needed to do was to enjoy the peaceful days and relax. After all that happened in the past few years, I deserve a vacation, even if it isn’t long.

…

In this life, I only saw Lysa a handful of times, most of which were in King’s Landing. Even though she was of my blood, I had barely any relationship with her. And by the way, she looked at Cat and me, Lysa didn’t seem like she wanted to be here or anywhere near us. At least she seemed close to Uncle Brynden, so I don’t need to worry about her.

Robert Arryn, better known as Sweetrobin, looked like a healthy boy with blue eyes and dark hair. He was only a year and a half younger than Bran. And both boys seemed to get along from the get go. Another worry warded off. It was good to see that my nephews seemed to grow healthy. And hopefully, nobody will concern themselves with Robin’s future as Lord of the Vale.

“With half of your face covered in scars, it is hard to recognize you,” Brynden said as he approached me. “Did the fucker who did this to you get what he deserved?”

“I vent my anger by smashing his head into a bloody mess,” I replied as I hugged my favorite uncle. “The realization in his eyes as he died was quite satisfying. Too bad his head was soft and turned into mush too quickly.”

“Yes, I would have loved to see it,” Brynden said as he raised a cup of wine to me. “I was quite worried when I heard you were missing. I almost went on my own to find my favorite nephew.”

“I am your only nephew,” I replied with a smile.

“My point still stands.”

“How is Lysa doing?” I asked after laughing with Brynden.

“Worse at some aspects, better at others,” Brynden replied worriedly. “If I didn’t force her to eat the first few months, she probably would have starved herself to death. Whatever that little fucker Littlefinger did to Lysa was severe enough that I need healers and Maester from all the world to help me.”

“The fate wasn’t kind to her,” I replied, feeling pity for my sister.

“Maybe she is going to grow stronger from this ordeal,” Brynden said, taking a big sip of his wine. “I was wondering if it would be alright for her to live in Riverrun. Eyrie is getting too cold to live comfortably. So, we would be moving to the Gates of the Moon. If you could take Robin as your page, Lysa could join him in living in Riverrun.”

“I would love to, but I will not have time for Robin,” I declined. “I have my hands full with my squires.”

“Those boys?” Brynden asked, pointing at two boys stuffing their mouths with various sweets. “You sure about them. Aren’t they from gutters? At least, that is what I heard. You won’t gain any favor with anyone by taking them in.”

“I don’t need any favor from anyone,” I said, feeling slightly insulted by Brynden’s words. “I took them in because of their talent. Even if they started training a bit late, they will be great knights once I am done with them. They are more worthy than any favor anyone could give me.”

“Well, I guess I will have to ask Robb to give Robin a chance,” Brynden replied without hesitation.

“Are you going to call him your favorite grandnephew before my children and me?” I asked, feigning being insulted.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Brynden laughed at me like what I said was a joke. “I will do it behind your back.”

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Brynden wanted to eliminate Lysa and Robin. But winters in the Vale mountains were as harsh as in the North. Winterfell was much bigger than the Gates of the Moon, and Robin would find more friends here than anywhere else. And Lysa was distant from the rest of the family for far too long. It would be nice if Cat and Lysa got closer, for both of their sakes.

Soon, the time came for the main event. The bride, cloaked in a maiden’s cloak bearingthe new sigil of Winter’s Horn in the black field, was escorted by Mance to the Godswood of Winterfell. As in Westero's tradition, Mance was forced to take on a new banner. And officially take his place as Lord Ryder of Dreadfort. And since Mance was Val’s closest relative, he had to act as her guardian.

Val was a northern beauty. With long blond hair of the color of dark honey tied in a golden braid and resting on her shoulder, she was the envy of many women and men. She was slender with a full bosom. But even though she looked graceful, anyone with sharp eyes could tell the awkwardness she had as she walked to the Godswood.

It would take more time and more than this for people to accept the wildlings. They looked out of the place as it was. They will need to learn how to adapt to their new surroundings fast. I looked at Mance Ryder as he escorted Val to the Heart Tree. Even though I didn’t think it was warranted, I still had to make sure he understood the situation he and his people were in.

“Who comes? Who comes before the gods?” Robb asked as tradition commanded under the Heart Tree.

“Val of House Ryder comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” Mance was quite a performer. He sounded like any other northerner.

“Me, Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

“Mance of House Ryder guardian and Goodbrother to the bride,” Mance then turned to the bride and asked, “Val, will you take this man?”

“I take this man,” Val replied, without pausing like she had rehearsed it countless times.

The bride and groom joined hands and knelt before the Heart Tree, bowing their heads in submission to the gods. They spent a few moments in silent prayer, then stood up. Robb replaced the bride’s maiden’s cloak with a cloak bearing the sigil of his house, signifying his taking her under his protection and into his family.

And that was that. Even though it was a short ordeal, the wildings here still looked bored and annoyed. They would probably throw a rebellion if they had to endure the Southern wedding with the priest talking way too much. Even though it was only a small crowd that observed and bore witness to the wedding, many still take notes of how the wildlings reacted.

With applause, Robb led Val back to Winterfell. There, the celebrations would continue as usual. As drinks and music were offered, it was the perfect moment to introduce myself to the Last King Beyond the Wall. With ale in my hands, I took a seat next to him. As a family of the groom, there wasn’t a seat I couldn’t take.

“The quality of the ale and food must be better here than in the True North, as your people call it,” I said, offering a jug of ale to Mance. “I am sure it beats anything your people were offered before.”

“A warning? Or is it a threat this time?” Mance asked, seeing through me.

“An advice,” I replied. “You will need to try harder to get accepted by the people of the North. If your people continue to show their displeasure at everything, especially at your lord’s wedding, they will take it as an offense.”

“Everyone seems to like to throw their advice at me as they wish,” Mance replied, taking a long sip of his ale. “You are no different from anyone else that did the same. Everyone here would rather not see us in their lands and especially at their homes. You are the same. So is that young king of yours. I am sure he will find me while I am alone and will offer his advice.”

“Maybe,” I partially agreed, as a King should at least do that much. “But I am not just any lord or a King. I am Edmure Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident and lord of Riverrun. I am the most dangerous man you will ever see. And if it were up to me, I would have just left you all to die Beyond the Wall. But since my nephew decided to show mercy on you, I will respect his decision and give you advice so he doesn’t need to regret it.”

“Just say it,” Mance didn’t look impressed by me, but he took me seriously this time. “There is no need for pretty words.”

“If one of your men breaks the law, deal with him yourself before anyone else gets the chance to do so,” I began my piece. “If anyone needs any kind of help, offer it and don’t expect to be repaid nor be thanked for it. Suppose a situation calls for someone to sacrifice their life for others, volunteer themselves, and die. After doing it a hundred times, the North and the rest of the world will accept you and your people.”

“So, if I want my people to live peacefully, I have to slave myself for others?” Mance scoffed at the notion.

“Yes,” I replied. “Live like a slave and die as one. Then, after a few generations, your people will be treated like people.”

“And if I refuse?” Mance asked.

“My sword will be the last thing you will ever see,” I answered. “I will be watching you. And before you even think of rebellion or harming my family, I will come for you. You won’t see me. You will only see my sword. And yes, it was a threat.”

I probably went too far with it. But it needed to be said. The wildlings were an unpredictable bunch. I am sure most of the crimes committed in the North will be attributed to the wildlings. The crimes will be blown out of proportion, and before long, everything bad in the North will be put on the wildlings. So, it will only take time for the wildlings to feel like they have a better chance of fighting for their place than submitting to others. I wanted to ensure that Mance and Robb realize how things will be.