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Chapter 68: Harrenhal and cleansing.
🕑 Added 2024-10-17 05:48:30 +0000 UTCAuthor's note: I liked this chapter; probably one of my favorites to write.
Robb Stark.
Harrenhal.
Walking toward the war council, I sped up my movements; we were finally in the castle that would work as our headquarters; it had been over three months since the carnage of Riverrun, as the Riverlanders had started calling it, and a little bit over two months since the battle of mummers ford. Uncle Edmure reached Harrenhal some weeks ago, and I gave this time for him and his men to enjoy while they could; the war had come to a standstill since the complete defeat of the Westerlands, and the only skirmishes we've heard about were the ones between the Baratheon brothers.
It appeared that Aegon took the opportunity to consolidate his forces, taking control over Rainwood to Summerhall. According to what I heard, he took control by force since no one believed that he was the true son of Rhaegar. The fact that he did not have the same physical characteristics as the last dragon didn't help his cause whatsoever. Thanks to the really small spy network we had running, we knew that he was prone to having spikes of cruelty when things did not go in his favor.
I still wasn't sure what to think about him. I knew that he was going to be my enemy, but I wanted to make sure to find out his real identity before acting against him. That's the main reason I've been confined in the cells of this castle. I've been using them as breeding grounds for my insects. All of my little minions were breeding so hard that I sometimes felt bad for the male ones.
I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts, and since I was already in the doorway for the council, I checked with my insects to see what was happening inside.
The room was filled with all the important people of my entourage; the only one missing was Torrhen Karstark, who had left as soon as he and the blackfish reached the legendary castle before me. It was a shame that even more of my generals would leave soon, but there was a lot of work to do if we wanted to win this war.
The blackfish and Torrhen arrived at Harrenhal a little over a month ago, and Lady Whent was gracious enough to receive them without much fanfare. She was a pragmatic old lady who was close to death, according to the best healer we had present, Sylvyrn was sure that there indeed was a curse in the castle, and Lady Whent was ecstatic to know that the green men would be able to get rid of it before long. She cried tears of joy after hearing that and offered whatever she had at her disposal to make it happen.
Sylvyrn told me in secrecy that they could only cure the curse because the power of the old golds had been growing nicely along with my campaign. It appeared that some of the green men that stayed in the isle of faces went against the orders of Sylvyrn, which he mainly made to protect them, to the houses in the Riverlands that supported my claim. They started planting the weirwood trees in every keep that allowed them to, and while I could see that Sylvyrn was quite exasperated with the young ones, he was so damn proud of them, even showing a small smile when recounting what he heard.
Thanks to the work of the young green men, almost sixty percent of the keeps in the Riverlands had weirwoods growing in their lands, and I made sure to send a letter to all the Lords who weren't present to give my opinion on the matter. Neither the old gods nor I were forcing anyone to change their religion; people under my rule would be allowed to follow whatever gods they desired as long as they were not evil entities. If I ever heard that a Lord was burning their people for R'hllor, I would make sure to drown him in feces so that not even his God would welcome him after death.
Thankfully, the Lords appreciated my thoughts and allowed their smallfolk to convert if they wanted; a good thing was that the old gods didn't require anything pompous like the seven, there was no church or things like that that needed to be built, nor priests that talked in their stead. The old God's religion required only to be normal human beings without the need to offer their coin, and since magic was returning to Westeros, the land around the weirwood trees was flourishing.
Thanks to the trees, the green men, and my fertilizer, we would have a good supply of foodstuffs for my campaign for the throne.
Opening the door, I walked toward the small throne in the middle of the table. Jon was already seated at my right side, talking with the remaining Northmen. Ser Brynden and Edmure were talking in hushed whispers to my left, but all the people present fell silent at my entrance.
Before I could open my mouth to start the meeting, Edmure and the blackfish stood up from their seats, along with the rest of the Lords of the Riverlands.
"What's going on?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Something that should have been done sooner," grumbled Ser Brynden. He, his nephew, and the Lords sworn to the Tullys bent to their knees.
"We want to offer you our allegiance, your grace," said Edmure. His face was as if it was carved of granite. He took his sword from its scabbard and pointed it to the ground. "The Riverlands will follow you, Robb Stark, The Ghost of the North, King of the North and the Riverlands."
The Northerners started banging their drinks on the table but kept mostly silent to respect such a momentous occasion. I looked seriously at the Lords in front of me, and I could not help but feel pride in what I had accomplished. I was already sure that I would have the support of the blackfish even before arriving at Harrenhal, but since canon derailed from its path a long time ago, I didn't know if the rest of the Riverlands would follow his lead. Thankfully, I was wrong to doubt him.
"All of you, rise," I said with a smile. I accept your vows and swear to be a kind king and bring you more victories under my reign. But for now, we need to continue our plan."
Edmure and the rest stood up with dignity, and the Northerners took that as a signal to start shouting.
Giving them a minute to calm themselves, I lifted my hand, and everyone fell silent.
"Yes, I know that this normally would call for a celebration, and believe me, if we were in a position to do so, I would make a grand feast to welcome you under my reign, but we are in the middle of one of biggest conflicts Westeros has seen since the conquest, and I prefer to have you grumbling about it alive than risking your lives if something were to happen right now." With a slight frown, I said, "Even in the middle of the Riverland, we are still at risk, not of brave warriors, but the despicable things our enemies could do to harm us."
"But do not worry that much about that; I'm making sure of the security in this castle, and while I am not able to assure you nothing untoward will happen thanks to our despicable enemies, I want you all to be on alert. Inform the troops of this; everyone who wants to enter the castle needs to be investigated and brought to the council for me to give my explicit permission. I know this complicates a lot of things. Still, as I said before, I prefer you to be grumbling at my decisions than to be six feet underground," I continued direly, "Now that I've said my piece, I want to congratulate my uncle Edmure for his victory against Jaime's Host" I said lifting my cup.
"Uncle," I started, "You brought honor to your house with this victory, and I'm glad that the Riverlands will be in good hands in the future. I know many people scorned you for some of the decisions you made, but for me, that just showed me that you are the best person to be in charge of the Riverlands. You took the smallfolk under your wing when they needed it the most, showing that you have a heart of gold."
The Lords present started hollering at the table, cheering for the heir of the Riverlands and his accomplishments. While it could have gone better, he did a good job. After all, rooting the Lannisters from the Riverlands was his most important mission; capturing Jaime would be just an added bonus.
The news of the Kingslayer's escape caused a few of the Lords to grumble or jeer at him for the perceived cowardice, but I didn't pay much attention to it. Right now, I needed to cement my power while my enemies fought between themselves.
"As for our next movements," I said firmly, "I want to close the borders; I want every single important keep filled to the brim with soldiers and an experienced general taking care of anything."
"That is a good plan, your grace," nodded Ser Brynden, "but I'm afraid such a venture would leave the main army in dire straits. We simply don't have enough men to do so."
The rest of the Lord nodded along with the blackfish, with Edmure taking the lead. "There are only twenty-five thousand soldiers available right now since there were a lot of injured during the battles. Even if we send only a thousand men to each keep, we would end up on the side with fewer soldiers, even if they are experienced."
"Aye, I understand that," I nodded at them calmly. That's why we will bring a new ally into the fold."
"It's time my aunt pays for her crimes," I said. "She has done so much damage with her actions, even in years past. I know that she is family, but while I will allow her to live, she won't be a free woman anymore. With her defeat, the Vale of Arryn will need to join one side, and I'm sure I can manage to win them over. After all, Robin is family."
Edmure opened his mouth before thinking better of it. Lysa's sins are not something that could be denied, and her not doing anything in this war was something that had the people of the Vale pissed at her inaction. When I manage to bring her to heel, I could work my magic to obtain the support of the Vale; that way, I would have the bottom part of Westeros under my control while my enemies fight between themselves.
The main reason why I didn't travel to all the main cities of my enemies and butchered in their sleep was because I wanted my reign to begin with people choosing me. If I went to Kings Landing, the Reach, Summerhill, or Dragonstone and simply killed Joffrey, really, Aegon, and Stannis, my dynasty would begin with bloodshed, with the Lords being afraid of me instead of loving me. Even if I managed to keep my dynasty alive thanks to my powers and support from the North, Vale, and Riverlands, that would change when I died.
I did not know if my shard could bud, but if it couldn't, my future children would see themselves in the middle of another rebellion from the families I offended. While I could probably do something about it, I preferred to obtain the throne with a normal approach.
"I will speak with the Maester here at Harrenhal and send ravens to all the important houses in the Vale, telling them about what my aunt has done. After that, I will take half of my men to Durskendale and take the keep for our cause. I can convince Lord Rykker to do so without much fuss." I continued laying my plans, moving some pieces in the map of Westeros that was set on the table, "When we are in control of Duskendale, I will move with a small group to the vale and take Aunt Lysa out; I know for a fact that Lord Royce will follow me when I do that, and ill see that my cousin is fostered by someone worthy so that he can govern the vale when he is older."
Jon stood up and approached the table. "Your plan is sound, brother. But there is one thing that we need to do post-haste after that." Slowly, he took a few pieces of miniature boats that Served as the Ironborn depiction: "The Ironborn will need to be stopped. After their defeat in Seagard, it appears that they moved their sights toward the North. We cannot leave them to their own devices; their presence will only Serve as a distraction in the long run."
"Aye, The White Wolf is right," said Lord Vance, and I smiled, seeing them show the respect my brother in all but blood deserved. We need to do something about them before they start spreading in Westeros like the vermin they are."
Theon made a face about the rest of the Lords talking like this about his family, but I ignored his pleading gaze. The Ironborn were a blight in Westeros, and I had no intention of leaving them be. The iron price would disappear from my lands along with the religion of the drowned God. If he ever considered betraying me for his family, I would feel bad, but I would do whatever I needed to make them disappear. He needed to understand that things were going to change in the future.
"Do not worry. I'm already thinking of ways to counter whatever they are planning," I said calmly, tapping my fingers on the table to bring everyone's attention. "I just need to do some things before we begin to act against them. I assure you that they won't be a problem before long. As soon as I have the Vale under my control, we will do something against them. For now, we don't have enough men to do much."
"Good," nodded Ser Brynden, "What do you need us to do then, your grace?"
"First, I want Uncle Edmure to return to Riverrun. My grandfather's health has improved, but he is old. He will not last long with the living, and there needs to be a Tully in the castle at all times. Lord Vance, Blackwood, and Darry will accompany him in this venture. I want all castles in the upper border of the Riverlands maned up and ready to battle. I believe there are enough men in Riverrun for this." I stated firmly, looking at each Lord in the eyes with my face set in stone, "I don't wish to hear about us losing a single castle as long as it is not the Reach attacking."
"If the Reach march to the Riverlands, I want you to stop them the most you can without risking the lives of your men or yours unnecessarily. When any of you feels that you will be overrun, I want you to fall back and unite against them." I frowned at them, "I don't need courageous Lords who die like stupid men for their own ego. Am I understood?"
"Yes, your grace!" they replied in unison.
Edmure stood up and touched my shoulder, "We will do whatever it takes; believe in us."
"I do, uncle. That's why I am sending you three. I believe that you can work together to make it happen." I replied with a small smile, "Give me a couple of months, and I'll send more men to work under your orders."
Everyone nodded, and I took the opportunity to drink something to soothe my parched throat.
"I will send some ravens to the golden tooth along with some of the other important houses of the Westerlands. We have their men hostage, and their Lord Primordial is rotting in our cells as of this moment. They will be convinced of their neutrality. As long as they don't raise another host, I won't be paying them a visit." I smiled, showing my teeth. "I hope that they are afraid and do the intelligent thing."
Lord Blackwood snorted, "We have Lord Lefford as a hostage; Lady Alysanne will know what to do if she ever wants to see him again."
"Aye," I nodded. I'll make sure to allow some of the Lords we have hostage to write a small segment of the letter. I hope they know what is best for them and tell their heirs to stop acting stupid."
"Do we have any news of the other kingdoms?" I asked everyone.
"Yes, your grace." the maester of Harrenhal replied softly; he was a man in his late fifties, and his health was beginning to fail him. Sylvyrn and the rest of the Green men believe the curse of the castle makes people sickly and prone to death way before the general in Westeros. This was why the leader of the green men was missing from this meeting. He was preparing for a supposed cleansing ritual the next day. I could not risk my men falling ill during their stay here. Sylvyrn says that I was being shielded by it thanks to the tattoo the old gods marked me with, but the rest were at risk the longer we stayed here.
"Go on," I prodded the aging maester.
"We received a raven from Dorne, your grace," the maester replied softly. It was written by Prince Doran Martell. He thanked you for the service to his house and said that a small delegation would soon visit the hostages."
SmallJon snorted loudly, "Bastard thinks his grace works for him. I don't believe he didn't write it like this on purpose."
"He wants to learn how you act when someone is dismissive of you," interfered Ser Brynden. "I do not know Prince Doran personally, but there is a reason why he rules over Dorne without much of a fuss, even while never doing anything of note. Be careful of the vipers, your grace."
I nodded, "They will be welcomed here, but for this transgression, they will only get one of the hostages for free. The rest will be behind some concessions." I smirked at him, "I don't know if they will be our enemies, but the possibility of them joining this Aegon is high. If they want to receive the rest of the Lannisters, they will do something for us."
"Good. I never liked the bastards," nodded Uncle Edmure. I met Oberyn once or twice during tourneys. He might be better than his brother with his thinly veiled insults, but even then, he is insufferable. If they decide to be our enemy, I would not shed many tears for them."
"We will wait and see. Wait for the Arrival of this delegation and treat them with respect." I ordered. " I'm sure Prince Oberyn will be leading it. His hatred of anything Lannister was heard even in the North."
"Anything else, maester?" I asked loudly.
"Yes, your grace. News from the North, I'm afraid." The maester hesitated momentarily before continuing, "Lord Eddard Stark sends his regards and assures you that everyone in your family is all right, but there have been some problems on the shores."
"What happened?" asked Jon Seriously, inching closer in his seat.
"As you feared, the Ironborn started attacking different keeps on the shores of the North. No keep has escaped their sights. There had been multiple attacks in Bear Island, Flints Finger, Stony Shore, Sea Dragon Point, and Deep Wood Motte. Thankfully, Lord Stark sent most of the available soldiers to those keeps in fear of something like this. They had repelled every attack, but casualties are rising by the day." the maester said direly, and the mood of the meeting plummeted, "According to the message, the North has lost over four thousand soldiers in these past months. The Ironborn are attacking almost daily, and while they have lost more than double than the North, they keep doing so."
"For what reason do they not retreat?" asked Jon in befuddlement. Even if we are losing men, they will lose first. The North is the biggest of the seven kingdoms."
"It appears that their attacks are only distractions, my Lord," the maester replied with a frown. The reason is that they sent multiple smaller boats to the forest to obtain timber. Lord Stark is afraid that they have stolen enough timber for a hundred ships by the time they realized the purpose of their attacks."
"Those bastards," snarled Jon on his seat, "This cannot go on."
"It cannot, brother." I nodded thoughtfully, gazing at Theon, who was looking pastly white. "The plan will continue. Give me some time to make my decision."
The Lord present nodded, and I dismissed the meeting. "You know your orders. Take your time to make sure you have everything ready. I want ravens of everything important in your holdings, my Lords." I said toward Uncle Edmure, blackwood, and Vance.
Everyone stood up and started leaving the room, but I observed quietly at someone specific. "Theon," I called for him, "A word."
Theon still was sickly white, but he followed my order, "Robb… I-"
I lifted my hand to silence him, "Not here, follow me. We need to have this conversation."
I walked slowly, with him following me. His approach was completely different from normal, almost meek.
When we reached the forest filled with Weirwood trees, I stopped.
"Do you know what it means to be a Lord, then?" I asked softly without looking at him. I was observing the land around the forest with my insects. I could feel the air differently in the surroundings; it was filled with life.
"Rob… My family–" Theon whispered.
"I want your answer, Theon," I said firmly.
Theon took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, your grace. Maester Luwin made sure to teach us together."
"Aye, better time, those," I murmured. "And what should a Lord do in this situation, Theon?"
"Defend themselves and make sure they don't suffer in the future for the same reason, your grace," he said softly.
"What about a king? What is a king supposed to do in this situation?" I asked, finally seeing him in the eyes.
Theon shook on his feet. "The same, your grace. But he has even more responsibilities to his subject than a Lord," he murmured.
"The Old Ways will disappear from Westeros under my reign, Theon." I said firmly, "You are going to be the Lord of the Iron Islands in the future, and it will be your job to make sure this happens."
"But the other Lords won't follow me, Robb," he said shamefully. They see me as a Greenlander, and the fact that I stayed with you instead of going back to my family will make it worse."
"Those Lords will die by my hand. My army will invade the Iron Islands and kill every single drowned priest on the island. The Lords will be allowed to give up the old ways of their own volition, but the ones who hope to stay the same way will die. The castles of those families will be given to different Lords who show promise in this war. so you will have a lot of support from the ones who surrendered in the hope of continuing with their ways in the future." I said firmly with my hand on his shoulder.
"I know you have some wisdom in your head, Theon. The world is changing, and you need to adapt. I will understand if you don't wish to follow me to the Iron Islands, but know that Pyke will be your seat of power in the future. Think about it, I will move against them when the Vale is under my control, you have until then to decide."
Theon stayed silent and conflicted. It was plain to see how hard the decision was for him, so I left him alone so that he could think about it.
Next day.
Robb Stark.
We were all in the forest behind Harrenhal, from the smallfolk to my soldiers and Lady Whent, everyone watching with bated breath at the scene before us. The wind of the God's eye flowed through our hair; it felt alive somehow, and people were beginning to realize that it was thanks to the magic returning to the land.
The castle looked bleaker than usual as if the construction was alive and knew what was happening outside its walls. Scorched towers and haunted halls, everyone from this location knew that the castle was cursed, and everyone wanted to see it end once and for all.
Barefoot, Sylvyrn, and the other green men arrived at the scene; their faces were hidden by mossy, horned helms. They moved in unison with a purpose; their robes moved with the wind picking up speed the closer they got to the shore. Slowly but surely, they formed a circle in what appeared to be the crumbling remains of a once grand hearth, now blackened with some sort of oily substance that permeated the air with its bile stench.
At the center of the circle lay a weirwood branch, taken from the biggest tree in the center of the isle of faces. The bark was whiter than the rest of the trees, veined with the red sap that grew in them, even if it was darker than the ones I'd seen in Winterfell during my escapades to the Godswoods. It probably showed that their strength was increasing.
Sylvyrn, the closest thing we had to a direct Servant of the old gods, stepped forward. He carried a wooden bowl filled with water from a pond inside the isle of faces, sacred and divine water, according to his musings. His voice was deep and resonated with everyone present. Even I could feel it reverberating in my bones.
“Laethraen sylvannis. Laethraen morrovis.”
Elyndra and the other green men, including the older ones and the young ones who stayed in the isle when I first met them, chanted after him, their voices low but pleasant to the ears. The words were foreign, or at least appeared that way. Perhaps it was the original language without the meddling of the first men; I would ask them later.
Those were words of cleansing, of purging the corruption that clung to this place like a shadow. I did not understand them directly, but I felt the intention in their chants. The wind howled around us, and the smallfolk huddled together in fright but also in wonder. Thankfully, no one batted an eye at the display of magic. It appeared that my plan for them helped the people adapt to the green men's presence.
As the chanting grew louder, Sylvyrn raised the bowl high above his kneeling position. The moonlight caught in the surface of the supposed divine water cast its reflection across the castle, brighter than it should have been possible. He lowered it slowly, dipping his hand in the bowl, before letting it trickle down onto the branch. The drops sizzled, and steam was easy to see for everyone present as they touched the blood like sap.
“Laethraen sylvannis. Laethraen morrovis.”
Sylvyrn continued with the ritual. One by one, the rest of the green men stepped forward, dipping their fingers into the water and letting it fall onto the ground, the walls, and the cursed stones of the castle. As the water touched the ground, the same lush life near the weirwood started appearing. Grass began to grow where nothing had lived in the past century. They were tiny blades of grass, but it was life nonetheless.
The chanting became shouts, building up with the energy easily felt by everyone present, the land, the water of the God's eye, and the ancient, wild and untamed power of the old gods. The weirwood began to glow faintly, and the bloodlike sap turned to gold as the corruption of the place was purged.
Finally, Sylvyrn raised both hands to the sky and uttered a final, guttural command.
"Lurraethae!"
The wind came to a standstill, and the air felt heavy. For a moment, it seemed as if the castle was holding its breath.
Then, with a sudden rush no one expected, the foulness that had clung to Harrenhal for centuries was pulled away, and a thick, viscous tar was absorbed by the very land, leaving away a silence so deep that I could almost feel it in my skin. Slowly, the green men lowered their hands, sitting motionlessly in the newly renewed land near their last home.
Everyone, including myself, held their breath at the scene before our eyes. Harrenhal had been cleansed, once and for all.
The smallfolk started shouting in jubilation, and Lady Whent fell to her knees. She didn't have an accident, only thanks to Jon, who was near her. She was crying for the lost ones and for the future. Even I felt moved by the scene; I could not imagine what she was feeling.
"Thank you," she murmured toward Sylvyrn and the rest, but they kept silent behind me.
Taking it as my cue to begin the celebration, I climbed into a rock.
"The curse has been purged, and the castle will no longer be a danger to anyone. I want this moment to be remembered as the beginning of a new era, an era of prosperity and justice!" I shouted with all my might. This is the era where we right all wrongs, where we stand against injustice. Let's show everyone our honor and courage, for we will not lose!"
