GOT: Reborn as a Martell

Riverrun was overwhelmed with people running around. Everywhere Edmure Tully looked, he seemed to see someone sharpening steel or carrying weapons. It felt as if a war was brewing, yet he had no idea what had happened.

He was overseeing another one of these Bracken-Blackwood disputes that made his head spin every time he headed to Stone Hedge or Raventree Hall. 

However, as soon as he'd been halfway to the seat of the Blackwoods, a raven signed by his own father had recalled him to Riverrun, where he'd seen the army that was being massed there.

What was it for? He had heard the rumors of trouble brewing in the capital. Had something occurred that the crown needed help. Seven forbid, were the dragons back? Or the Blackfyres perhaps?

"What is going on around here?" Edmure immediately asked Marq Piper, who greeted him at Riverrun's portcullis.

"I know not." The Piper heir replied. "It must have something to do with what the Freys have been up to."

"The Freys?" Edmure raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with them?"

"Haven't you heard the news?" Marq asked with a surprised tone in turn. "The old Walder has kicked the bucket. We got the news two days ago. Stevron Frey was away and had to come back with haste to the Twins."

"The old cunt finally passed?" Edmure scoffed. "I doubt he'll be missed. Doesn't explain what these whole war preparations are about, though."

"Lord Edmure!" a voice cried out from the inner keep.

Edmure turned to face an old man, dressed in a maester's clothes.

"Maester Vyman." Edmure nodded. "What is the meaning of this whole mess?"

"Your father will explain, he needs to see you."

"My father?" Edmure looked at him in disbelief.

His father was sick and bedridden, having passed many duties of Lord of Riverrun to Edmure, and only sent for him to berate him about recent decisions he made or to complain about the lack of information he was getting about said decisions.

Edmure sighed and ran the steps leading to his father's rooms, ignoring the maester's pleas to slow down and let him catch up.

As he finally entered his father's rooms, he saw that Hoster Tully's condition had worsened. The man was looking pale, and was lying down almost completely, his head being propped up by a series of blankets, cushions and pelts.

"Ah, Edmure." He tried to smile. "My son, come, we have much to discuss."

Before Edmure had the chance to speak a word, the door of his father's chambers opened to reveal poor Maester Vyman, who seemed completely tired from the effort of climbing the flight of stairs leading up there.

"Maester, please leave us." His father coughed. "This conversation is between me and my son."

"But Lord Tully, your pain…"

"I'll endure it for a few moments."

"Very well…"

The maester closed the door, leaving Edmure and his father alone.

"How were the two idiots?" his father sighed.

"I never had a chance to meet them, you recalled me here before I even reached Raventree Hall."

"Good." His father placed a hand over his stomach, wincing. "Never liked these two, always finding something to complain and waste my time with. 

I considered one of Bracken's daughters for you, you know? But then I'd never heard the end of Blackwood's complaints…"

Edmure always wondered why his father hadn't betrothed him to anyone. After all, he was nearing five-and-twenty namedays, and he was still unmarried. A position which left the Riverlands with no heir in the male line past himself.

"I always wanted to see all my children married and with toddlers of their own, you know. I promised Minisa I'd be a good grandfather, before she passed…I tried and tried to find suitable brides for you, you know." His father laughed. "Never succeeded. 

I tried to petition both Prince Doran Martell's daughter and the fat oaf of Highgarden's daughter for your hand, but neither gave a positive issue. 

And then the Riverlands were a headache. The old Walder was sending a letter every week to ask for a betrothal between you and one of his daughters or granddaughters, hah!"

His father winced in pain, but quickly regained his composure.

"One of my greatest fears was that the old Walder cunt would outlive me." He chuckled. "Turns out that "late" Walder Frey will also be late to my own funeral. Too bad I couldn't attend his. I'd have enjoyed spitting on his grave greatly for all of the trouble he caused me, and is still causing me, mind you."

"Is this what this is about? Late Walder's death?" Edmure asked.

"Aye." Hoster replied, taking a deep breath between each word. "Not sooner than two days after the old man had drawn his last that his eldest sons Stevron and Emmon met to discuss a mutual alliance to evict some idiot claimants."

Hoster took a second to breathe.

"Should I call for maester Vyman?" Edmure inquired, worried.

"No." Hoster replied. "I can pull through the pain."

The old man of Riverrun drew a few deep breaths before continuing.

"Anyways, I know not what happened at that meeting. All I know is that few Freys survived. Edwyn Frey ran to Riverrun and claimed that his cousin had betrayed them and slaughtered everyone. 

Cleos Frey instead ran to the Twins and proclaimed himself lord, and said that Stevron had poisoned Emmon. In any case, by the end of it, a dozen of Freys are dead, and these are the ones I know about."

"A succession crisis, then?" Edmure asked. "Then why are we getting involved? You said yourself that you wished to disarm the Riverlands and prepare for peace."

"Peace…yes…peace…" Hoster sighed. "Can be only achieved with a unified Riverlands. The Freys are amongst our most powerful bannermen…there can be no peace…"

"Is that why you are marching a whole army? To secure the Twins?"

Hosted nodded slowly.

"Edwyn Frey…is the lawful heir…if we help him retake the Twins…he owes us a big debt." The lord of Riverrun coughed a few times, adjusting himself in the bed. "Cleos…is backed by Lannister gold…I won't have…Lions…in my yard."

"Why the army?"

"To show…our support…Cleos…must yield." Hoster winced. "You will lead…the forces…seven thousand men."

"Why me?" Edmure sounded as he was just slapped across the face. "Why not Uncle Brynden? Or Jason Mallister?"

Edmure wanted to slap himself. His uncle Brynden was still in the Vale.

"Because you're my son…" Hoster breathed slowly. "And you've cared…cared more than I have…"

It pained his father to admit this, Edmure knew.

"You know…" Hoster continued. "House Tully remembers the great lords. "Edmyn Tully, who gave us the Riverlands. Elmo and Kermit Tully, the trouts who fucked the West. 

And they might remember me, for I have brought our House three kingdoms. But you know who are the real heroes?"

Edmure shook his head.

"The ones who brought the peace." Hoster coughed. "Alix Tully unified the Riverlands under our banner after Edmyn gave us the paramountship. Robin Tully rebuilt the Riverlands after the Dance. And you, Edmure…you can solidify our position, for your successors to bring us to heights never seen before of our house…"

Edmure repressed an urge to cry. That his father held him in such a high regard for years…

"I shall complete this mission with honor…"

Hoster laughed.

"You're my son but you're still a fool…if I were not nailed to this bed I would be in mind to slap you like a child…" his father mused. "Honor…means little here…. honor…did not save me at the Stony Sept. I kicked that fool Connington in the groin and played dead…no battle worthy of the songs…just…trying to stay alive."

He turned to Edmure and pointed straight at him, his finger shaking as he did so.

"Don't complete anything with honor." He said sternly. "Do your duty for House Tully. Worry about honor last."

"But father…"

"Did I stutter Edmure?" Hoster raised his tone slightly. Edmure knew he wanted to lash out, but couldn't. "Do your duty for your house. Take the Twins and place Edmyn on his seat. Worry about honor when you've succeeded."

"Family. Duty. Honor." Edmure stood up and nodded.

"In that order." His father acquiesced. "I may not be of this world when you come back…but know that I'm sure you'll succeed."

"Thank you, father."

With that, Edmure left his father to rest and pondered his next move. He would have to meet this Edmyn Frey, and milk him for information on his cousins. If he was going to war, he would damn well know who he was up against.