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The Crippled Wolf-Stark SI: Ch.50
🕑 Added 2025-05-04 21:16:38 +0000 UTCChapter 50
Theon found himself holed up in a small room in the Red Keep, with guards stationed outside his room, and for the first time in his life, he finally began to feel like the hostage he was meant to be.
At the start of the war, Lord Stark had written to his father seeking his aide, yet his letters had gone unanswered. Ever since then, Theon had found himself a prisoner, confined to this small room, prohibited from any contact with the outside world, even as war tore through the realm.
The battle was over, and even up here, he had heard the city cheer for Cregan, who, with so many deaths, had found himself as the future King. And the thought that the cripple was to be their King, along with that girl who had ignored him at Winterfell, while he sat here all alone, made him rage.
He was the heir to the Iron Islands, yet his father had not cared for his life at all. He must have known what ignoring Lord Stark’s letter could do, how it could jeopardize the life of his heir, yet he had not cared. Not at all.
He pushed open the door, and immediately the guards standing outside stopped him at once.
“I must go and meet Lord Stark,” he insisted imperiously as the guards scoffed.
“I think it was made clear that you are not allowed to leave the room. As for Lord Stark, he will meet with you when he has time,” and he could see their mocking grins, as his face began to heat up.
“I must see him at once. There has been a misunderstanding. I am the heir to the Iron Islands. Let me write to my father... " But they did not let him finish, as one of them shoved him back.
“Get back into the room, my lord,” the guard mocked him, and he heard them laugh as he fell to the ground.
“You dare...”
“You are not the heir to the Iron Islands, at least not right now. You are a prisoner, and you should be lucky that Lord Stark has not thrown you into the Black Cells,” and he pushed himself back up.
“Your father was a traitor years ago. He is a traitor now. And Lord Stark has no time for traitors and their ill-gotten sons,” and they closed the door in his face, as Theon screamed at them, yet all he heard were laughs and taunts, as the door was locked from the outside.
He tired himself out after some time and fell to his knees against the door as tears began to form in his eyes—a traitor and a traitor’s son.
That was his reality. And the fool that he was had thought Lord Stark as his father, thought that they could be family, and joined in marriage.
But how wrong he was. The man never thought of him as family. No, even that bastard walked freely, as he sat here locked in this little cell for no crime of his own. He lay there, crying, weeping, and fell asleep right there.
And just as he saw himself taking that werewolf cloak, and just as he was about to wrap a woman of red hair in his cloak, he felt himself jolt awake as he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a face.
“Theon! Theon,” he heard the whispers, that voice so reminiscent of a voice from his youth, a memory that he had tried to hold close, but had forgotten nonetheless.
It was a woman’s face, one who smelt of salt and the sea. One who was covering his mouth so as not to let himself speak up, and just as he tried to push her away, she held strong, refusing to back down, and her face contorted in pain and rage.
“Don’t bite my hand, you idiot! I am your sister Asha,” and he stopped struggling at that, as she looked him in the eye.
“I am here to take you home...”
.
.
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JAMIE LANNISTER
For as long as he could remember, Jamie’s life revolved around only one person. Even during their youth, he always followed her lead and did as she said. In his mind, it had always just been the two of them, him and Cersei, against the entire world.
But unlike him, she had the mind, the daring, and the wit and much to her dismay he had the sword, and the cock, which made him better than her in the eyes of the world. But she was better.
She always had been. And he had envisioned that just as they had come to this world at once, they would leave it together as well, side by side. But he was wrong. They were wrong.
She was gone. Forced to kill herself, just so she could protect herself from the clutches of Stannis’s monsters. And it was all because of him.
She had suffered so because of his actions. It could not be anything else. For all his life, Jamie Lannister had made a mockery of vows and promises, thinking himself to be above them all. Unafraid of the consequences of his actions.
Proud as he was of his killing of Aerys, it was an oath that he had broken that day. An oath that men better than him had continued to live by, yet he had made a mockery of it for whatever reason.
And now the gods were punishing him for it in the worst possible way. He had broken an oath going against the Gods, and now the Gods were forcing him to break oaths that he had always intended to keep.
He had promised to protect his children, his King, and his Queen, but now they were all gone, leaving him alone in this foreign castle.
The door to his room opened, and any notion of retaliation long gone from him as he saw the Blackfish entering his room holding a tray of food.
“Have you finally come to your senses, Kingslayer?” he asked, as he put the tray on the table beside him and sat himself down.
And Jamie did not answer, nor did he speak up when the man continued.
“What were you thinking trying to jump out of the wall?” he asked, and the answer was simple enough that he wished to go and see her for the last time before they laid her to rest. He wanted to see his North Star, his other half.
“Half the men thought that you had sold yourself off to Renly,” the man scoffed, and he gave the man a glare at that accusation, and while a lesser man may have backed off, the Blackfish was not amongst those men who feared his gold or his blade.
“I must reach Kingslanding,” and the Blackfish did not say anything, as he looked him in the eye.
“There’s an army of sixty thousand men behind these walls,” and that was Renly’s army.
“They will cut you down before you can even think about reaching Kingslanding,” and that was true, his tone grew harsher as he continued.
“You could have cost us this castle and the war with your actions Kingslayer,” and his patience grew thin, as he finally growled.
“Do not call me that!” and the older man raised a brow.
“And what am I to call you, Ser Jamie Lannister?” he mocked—Savior of the City, Slayer of the Mad King, Jamie thought, though he did not suggest.
“I am too old to care at this point. So, I will call you whatever I want, Kingslayer,” and he wanted to rise and hit the man, but the days of starvation had robbed him of what little energy he had.
“Why are you here?” he asked finally, for allies they may be, but there was little love between him and the Tully’s.
“Because, as disgraced and loathsome as you may be, you are still a Kingsguard,” and it was a burden he had taken on for Cersei as well. Years ago, when her sister had departed for the capital with their father, he had come to visit her and she had told him of her father’s plot to marry her to Lysa Tully.
It was then that she suggested he don the White Cloak, and after his agreement, she somehow arranged the whole thing. All he had to do was present himself to the King during the Tourney afterwards.
For her, he had given up everything, his heirship, his father’s approval, and much more. Yet in the end, he had gained nothing as his father had departed Kingslanding just as he had donned the cloak, taking away his other half, as he was left guarding a mad King, with even madder fancies.
“You have let down two Kings, one you killed yourself and the other you failed to protect. But the throne now belongs to your niece,” daughter, he wanted to correct him. But kept to himself, to protect her.
“But now you have an opportunity to redeem yourself as a Kingsguard,” and his eyes dropped to the ground, as the weight of all his failures made him scoff.
“I am not worthy of that title,” and the Blackfish smirked.
“On that we agree, but a Kingsguards’ vows are for life, and you still draw breath,” and he hoped that he did not.
“There will be a battle tomorrow against Renly and his men,” the Blackfish added as he pushed himself up once more, and gave him a final glance.
“The Gates of Riverrun will open tomorrow, and we will ride to meet Renly and his men, for our Queen. If you so desire death, then eat that porridge and come ride with us. Maybe death will greet you on the battlefield,” and that was a tempting thought, as he looked up at the Blackfish.
“Are you cursing me?” he asked, and the old man shrugged.
“I am just giving you, my opinion. But by tomorrow, you'd better be dead or ready for war otherwise you will be worse than an oathbreaker,” and Jamie’s lips thinned as the old man finished.
“You will be a coward...”
0000
RENLY BARATHEON
Riverrun was proving itself to be more stubborn than he had thought, and despite their repeated attacks, the castle still stood tall, protected on all sides by the moats in which the River now flowed in full force.
The Stark-Lannister alliance had won itself a great victory by defeating Stannis and his men on the shores of Kingslanding. And as much as he loathed him, Stannis was still his blood, and so he desired to exact revenge on the Starks and the Lannisters who had joined together against him and his kin.
He rode with the full might of the Reach and the Stormlands behind him, and yet victory still eluded him, and would continue to do so for some while.
“What?” he asked, his gaze sharpening towards the Lord of Horn Hill, who had come recommended from Margary.
And few could question the martial prowess of Randyll Tarly, and he remained the only Lord to have defeated his brother in battle, even though Mace Tyrell often tried to take credit for his bannermen’s efforts.
“Dorne has entered the war, and has attacked the Marches and Horn Hill with ten thousand of its men,” and those wretched bastards had stayed out of the war until now, ignoring even his letter for aid, and now those traitorous bastards had joined the Starks and the Lannisters.
“Horn Hill still stands but with the might of the marches here with us, the Dornish have ravaged the lands,” and his lips thinned as he heard about his loss, which was a big blow for him.
“War does require sacrifice. I will write to the March lords and assure them of my support and future victory. The Dornish shall pay for this misadventure. I will make sure of it,” he answered confidently, his gaze lingering towards Loras, as Randyll Tarly’s lips thinned.
“Reassurances and words matter little when your people are dying and your castles are burning,” he replied, and his anger was somewhat justified, given that Horn Hill was his ancestral seat and was now being attacked by the Dornish.
“Then what will you have me do, my lord?” he asked, sitting down on his chair as he stared at the lord of Horn Hill.
“We have surrounded Riverrun on all sides. Beyond those rivers and those walls, sit two Stark daughters, the heir of Riverrun, the son of Tywin Lannister, and the product of incest that the Starks and the Lannisters are proclaiming as their Queen,” he thundered, and the Lord of Horn Hill.
“The Starks have yet to declare her their Queen,” and he rolled his eyes.
“They killed my brother for her. Cregan Stark—STARK took off Stannis’ head himself as he made his men surrender,” and won himself a great victory, something that he wished to replicate right here.
“We could surround this castle with three times the men we have, and still we cannot take Riverrun before the Lannisters and the Starks come at us and surround us from all sides,” and that was what troubled him. Now the Dornish had attacked his lands, swaying the loyalty and the courage of his men, for no man could fight while worrying about his family.
“We still have time. We should retreat and lay siege to the capital. With our men, we could...” and he had advised this before as well, but Renly shook his head.
“I have already made my decision regarding that,” he cut in, for with Eddard Stark ruling over the capital, he knew that it would not be easy to battle against him.
And his rage was visible on his face, yet the Lord of Horn Hill held his tongue, as Renly gulped and added a soothing touch.
“They say you are the greatest military mind in all of the Reach,” he heaped some praise on him, hoping to blunt the effects of the argument they had just had.
“Riverrun lies in front of you, my lord. Break its walls, cut its rivers, and you will win us this war,” he added, and if his words acted their magic, it did not show as the man gave him a bow and made to leave.
“I shall try to live up to your expectations, your grace,” and with that, he walked out of his tent. Renly grabbed his face in his hands, and his only respite came and sat beside him.
“Why are you so worried, my love,” Loras asked, and Renly looked up and saw his knight of flowers kneeling in front of him, the Rainbow cloak of his new Kingsguard spread out behind him, as their eyes locked with one another.
“This war, do you really think it was the right thing to do?” he asked, and the question had been bothering him ever since the news of Stannis’s defeat had reached his ears.
“Of course it was the right thing,” Loras assured him, wiping away the shadows of doubts that had been creeping in for days at the end now.
“You were meant to be a King, Renly. And with Stannis dead...” and he quickly.
“Killed. Not dead. Killed,” he corrected, and Loras nodded.
“Killed, you are Robert’s only legitimate heir. Especially if everything he claims about the Queen and the Kingslayer is true,” and he had heard rumors of this nature as well, but there were many rumors in the capital.
Some truer than most. And he wondered just how much truth lay in the one’s about the Queen and her incestuous relationship with her brother.
But then there was the matter of Princess Joanna, the one who had died beside the Queen. Poisoned by her own mother, who had taken the coward’s way out without waiting for the war to conclude entirely.
Though a part of him doubted even if that was true. And whether it was all just a plot by the Starks to gain control of the capital.
“And what if they are not true?” he asked. What if Stannis had been wrong, and he could not say much about his brother, who had fallen enough to resort to kinslaying, and burning thousands just to sit himself on the Iron Throne?
“What if the Starks are right and Stannis’ claims were nothing but hubris drummed up by that priestess of his?” and Loras had no answer for him initially.
“It does not really matter. Not to me. The realm does not know, does not see what I know and see,” Loras began, as he caressed his face, as Renly reached and grabbed his hand.
“You will be a better King than that little girl could ever hope to be, and for the good of the realm, one must sometimes do some heinous...” and then suddenly, he pulled away as a familiar voice cut in from the front of the tent.
“I do hope I am not disturbing you,” he said, and both he and Loras were quick to back away. He looked up and saw his Queen smiling at him from the opening of the tent. Seeing that it was none other than Margary, his heart eased, and Loras sighed.
“Not at all, my Queen....”
0000
It was not easy for Robb to get passage through the Twins, but the Frey lord was a cowardly man, and as the Riverlords gathered and sent their host to the other side of the Twins, he folded quickly, granting him passage as Robb rode through the perilous Twins with his eighteen thousand men.
The Late Lord Frey had delayed his march by weeks, and now Renly Baratheon had come and laid siege to Riverrun, currently home to his two sisters. He wanted to ride straight for Riverrun and smash into Renly’s Summer Knights with his greybeards, but letters had come for him from Kingslanding and Harrenhall, bearing instructions for him to slow his march so that they may surround Renly’s rather expansive host and deal with in one major blow.
And so after absorbing the Frey and Piper hosts, he now marched with an army of over twenty thousand strong, ready for war, yet as they rode down the King's road, a retinue came and stopped them in their path, one formed of over fifty armed men, bearing the banner of Runestone.
He had thought that war had come for them, yet he was wrong as the men led by none other than Yohan Royce demanded nothing but a parlay, as the Lord of Runestone wished to meet with the son of Eddard Stark.
Against the wishes of his advisors, Robb had agreed to meet with the man, and so he found himself sitting opposite to the old Lord, whose white hairs showed his age.
“You called for me, my lord. I am here, say what you must,” Robb began, and the Lord of Runestone, and around him sat his own lords, each of them glaring at the Vale lord with unrepenting rage and distrust.
“I see that I am not much welcome here,” he began stiffly as Robb raised a brow.
“Your lady, killed my mother, the Lady of Winterfell, and you dare ask me that,” Robb retorted, and the old man was not expecting such a sharp reply as he replied.
“You say that, but Lady Lysa tells a different tale. And it is why I have come to meet you myself so that I may learn the truth of this entire matter,” and he had heard that there was much infighting in the Vale, as most of the Lords refused his au—that woman’s command to bear arms against the Riverlands.
“And what tales does that harlot sing, Ay?” Lord Karstark asked gruffly.
“She accuses you and the Lannisters of colluding against his Lord husband. She accused Eddard Stark of making false allegations against Petyr Baelish, who she declared had discovered the conspiracy of the Queen and her brother,” and those were the same lies that Stannis Baratheon was spouting.
“Pah! She dared accuse our lord of treason! Has she lost her senses!” Lord Karstark reacted, jumping to his feet, but Robb quickly raised his hand, stopping the man.
“Let me speak for my kin, Lord Karstark,” he warned the man, who plopped down as Greywind glowered at him.
“My father thought of Lord Jon Arryn as a father. He loved him as one, and none would dare question that if they had seen just how devastated he had been once he had heard of his death,” Robb began, trying to make the elder Lord see some sense.
“And you claim that my father would team up with the Lannisters to plot against him and his kin,” he asked, surprised by the absurdity of that claim, and the lords who believed it.
“But what of Petyr Baelish’s letter. I have seen it myself, the man predicted his own demise, and laid the blame at the feet of your father and your brother,” the man sitting beside Lord Yohan added, as Robb scoffed.
“And you would believe the words of a liar and a traitor over the words of my father, the Lord of Winterfell,” and finally, he looked down in shame.
“If you are all really this naive, then I pity you and your people. Petyr Baelish was a traitor, and Lysa Arryn is a harlot who is blinded by rage and love to that pathetic vermin and I curse myself that we share some blood, but no mistake she killed my mother, her own sister,” Robb declared, his patience running thin as he remembered Sansa’s and Arya’s painful words, and how Rickon had cried while clinging to him when he had learned of their mother’s passing.
“She is a traitor and a kin slayer, and I will take her head even if I have to cut through all of the mountains of the Vale!”
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Comments
f_2004_nashef
Thx for the chapter
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the chapter.
