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May 9 - September 26, 2022
The queen stood. “And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?” she asked softly.
“When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.”
“Serve the boar at my funeral feast,” Robert rasped. “Apple in its mouth, skin seared crisp. Eat the bastard. Don’t care if you choke on him. Promise me, Ned.” “I promise.” Promise me, Ned, Lyanna’s voice echoed.
Catelyn took his hand. “Robb, I will not soften the truth for you. If you lose, there is no hope for any of us. They say there is naught but stone at the heart of Casterly Rock. Remember the fate of Rhaegar’s children.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Father, I’ve acquired a few of my own.” He tried a swallow of the ale. It was brown and yeasty, so thick you could almost chew it. Very fine, in truth. A pity his father had hanged the innkeep. “How is your war going?”
And this is Bronn, a sellsword of no particular allegiance. He has already changed sides twice in the short time I’ve known him, you and he ought to get on famously, Father.”
What’s he got to be so puffed up about anyway? Only two sons, and one of them’s a twisted little monster. I’ll match him son for son, and I’ll still have nineteen and a half left when all of his are dead!” He cackled. “If Lord Tywin wants my help, he can bloody well ask for it.”
His head bobbed up and down. “Your lord father did not come to the wedding. An insult, as I see it. Even if he is dying. He never came to my last wedding either. He calls me the Late Lord Frey, you know. Does he think I’m dead? I’m not dead, and I promise you, I’ll outlive him as I outlived his father.
Lord Tywin said. “Unleash Ser Gregor and send him before us with his reavers. Send forth Vargo Hoat and his freeriders as well, and Ser Amory Lorch. Each is to have three hundred horse. Tell them I want to see the riverlands afire from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork.” “They will burn, my lord,” Ser Kevan said, rising. “I shall give the commands.” He bowed and made for the door.
“As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister.” Gods, I hope not.
“I told you, I was sick with grief, I did not think—” “No,” Ser Kevan agreed. “Which is why you should return to Casterly Rock and leave the king with those who do.”
“The king is my son!” Cersei rose to her feet. “Aye,” her uncle said, “and from what I saw of Joffrey, you are as unfit a mother as you are a ruler.”
It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert.
“Frey’s work, not mine.” “Call it what you will. It stinks of Tywin Lannister.”
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“His natural daughter?” Lady Sybell looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. “You want a Westerling to wed a bastard?” “No more than I want Joy to marry the son of some scheming turncloak bitch. She deserves better.”
Once, when his uncles asked him what gift he wanted for his nameday, he begged them for a dragon. “It wouldn’t need to be a big one. It could be little, like I am.”
The dung made him think of his lord father.
Roose seemed amused by that. “All you have I gave you. You would do well to remember that, bastard. As for this … Reek … if you have not ruined him beyond redemption, he may yet be of some use to us. Get the keys and remove those chains from him, before you make me rue the day I raped your mother.”
