~~~Harrenhal, Riverlands ~~~
Artys Arryn POV
After months of a gruelling journey, we had finally reached this tormented place.
I slowed my horse for a moment, taking in Harrenhal from a distance. The castle truly was worthy of its reputation as the largest fortress in the realm, or now the second largest, since I made my castle back in the Vale.
The bronze castle's five enormous towers had been broken and blackened by Balerion's flames, while hundreds of tents surrounded the castle, stretching across the fields like a small city.
"The drunk boar spends a lot for someone who is broke," Soryn whispered beside me, eyeing the enormous camp with open disgust.
"Not even in their wildest dreams could King's Landing afford an arrangement this lavish," I replied, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I kicked my horse forward and continued along the road toward Harrenhal. "It's the Lannisters footing the bill."
"Why is the old lion acting like a fool? He doesn't have a mountain of gold anymore."
Soryn leaned closer as we rode, lowering his voice while the rest of our entourage followed roughly five metres behind us, and ten knights rode a few metres ahead of us, carrying the blue and white banners of House Arryn, the fabric snapping proudly in the wind.
"With the fortune he's spending on this stupid show, he could have built a small fleet of merchant vessels. They would've paid themselves back within a few years and earned him even more."
"You're thinking like a merchant. But Tywin is thinking like a Westerosi lord," I replied, glancing sideways at him.
"This entire brazen tourney is Tywin's way of reminding the realm of Lannister might."
"But didn't our spies report the mines of Casterly Rock are dry?" Soryn shot back.
I looked back toward the castle. "True. But he's hidden it quite well for now. Not even many in House Lannister know this."
"And it gives him another opportunity to strengthen his grandson's position. If Joffrey sits firmly on the Iron Throne, that means Tywin stays as Hand, and with that power he'll make sure House Lannister becomes rich again through other means. He must have been planning this for a while now."
"Well, he better be preparing," Soryn muttered. "He's no longer making millions of gold dragons every year."
"Give him some credit. He's brought House Lannister from being a joke to being feared," I said, a grin creeping onto my face. "Pity he forgot to teach his children the same skill."
Soryn snorted, shaking his head. "Quite a legacy: two children who fuck each other, and the last one the bloody dwarf with a tendency to fall in love with whores."
I couldn't help but laugh at that.
As we approached the main gate, the gathering waiting for me came into clearer view. The banners of House Whent flew proudly above the entrance; on the right side of it were the falcon banners of the houses from the Vale.
But on the left side stood something I hadn't expected to see in such numbers.
Riverlords. A great many of them.
Enough to give the old fish of Riverrun nightmares.
House Mooton of Maidenpool, House Blackwood, House Haigh, House Roote, House Piper, House Vance, House Wode, and several others were present, dressed in their most expensive clothes and gathered beneath their banners. Almost every notable lord from the eastern Riverlands seemed to have found a reason to be standing outside Harrenhal today.
I smiled.
So my little investments were already paying dividends.
Beside Lady Whent stood three knights, with nearly two dozen others behind them wearing shining silver armour and blue cloaks. Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Jasper stood at the front, their expressions solemn as they waited for us to approach.
Pity my father wasn't there to welcome me. He must be busy with agreements, since he's the Hand of the King.
"They're certainly eager," Soryn muttered, nodding toward the Riverlords.
"They're Riverlords," I replied. "They're always eager when they think there's something to gain. Besides, the Tullys don't really have much control over them. Riverlords have a tendency, and a history, of choosing whatever side suits them best."
"And what do you think they're hoping to gain from you?" he asked, though I could tell from the glint in his eye that he already knew the answer.
I glanced at him and simply shook my head.
Soryn gave me a sideways look, shaking his head in reply with a knowing smile, then chuckled under his breath.
We finally reached the main gate.
The knights riding ahead of me moved aside, forming a path as I brought my horse to a stop. The Vale lords, along with the Moon Knights, immediately dropped to one knee, their heads lowered as they saw me.
Lady Shella Whent, on the other hand, offered only a respectful bow.
On the opposite side, the Riverlords followed her example, lowering their heads just enough to show respect without kneeling.
Except for a pair: a man in his late thirties and a small child, maybe seven or eight years old.
The pair stood among them with their heads bowed almost to the ground. Their once-proud Darry colours hung from their armour, though the faded banners were a reminder of just how far House Darry had fallen.
Raymund Darry and his son Lyman Darry knelt before me.
Once a lordly house. Now merely a knightly one.
Half their lands had been stripped away, their title reduced, their influence nearly destroyed after Robert took the throne, the price paid because Ser Willem Darry, one of the Kingsguard, had taken Daenerys and Viserys to safety in Essos and protected them there until his last breath.
Yet thanks to me, their lands were beginning to prosper again.
They were not lords anymore. But they were no longer dying in the mud either.
House Darry is truly loyal, I thought, my gaze lingering on the small child for a moment too long. A flicker of memory surfaced: the war of five kings, the Mountain killing the father, and once he'd taken Castle Darry, executing every last garrison man, including the little boy standing in front of me now, in another life.
I dismounted slowly, allowing one of my knights to take the reins before looking up at Harrenhal.
Seven years. It had been nearly seven years since I'd last seen this place.
The castle had changed considerably since then. Parts had been repaired, halls restored, roads cleared, and entire sections of the grounds cleaned up for the tourney.
It was impressive. Almost too impressive.
My trade investments and profits with House Whent and their lands could not have paid for this.
Which meant one thing.
Tywin had done it.
I narrowed my eyes, scanning the walls, trying to work out where all the money had gone. The old lion had spent heavily, but not foolishly. There was a difference.
My gaze moved toward one of the windows on the right side of the castle.
A figure stood there.
Old.
Black-robed.
Watching me.
I couldn't make out his face from this distance, but I already had a good idea who it might be.
Blackfish.
Look all you want, old man.
When the war comes, half the Riverlands will already be under my influence without me having to lift a sword.
I had spent years investing in these lands, lending money when others refused, buying grain when harvests failed, helping merchants establish routes, and quietly placing men loyal to me wherever opportunity presented itself.
The investments were finally beginning to pay off.
I turned away from the window and walked toward the gathered lords.
Old Lady Shella, the widow of Lord Whent and the only surviving member of House Whent, stepped forward first.
The Crone of Harrenhal, as they called her, stood before me, a woman in her fifties, the last remnant of a once-great line now extinct save for her.
"It's been too long since we last met, Ser Artys," she said, a pale smile softening the wrinkles on her face.
"Indeed it has, my lady." I offered her a polite smile in return.
Time had taken much of the beauty from her face, replacing it with wrinkles and grey hair, but there was still a sharpness in her eyes that told me she hadn't gone soft with age.
"I have heard your stories from Essos," she said warmly. "Freeing slaves and fighting pirates, and standing against slavers so their trade wouldn't take root again."
"Nothing worth mentioning." I kept the polite smile fixed in place. "I'm merely doing what every man of honour should."
Sometimes I even surprised myself with how easily the lies came. I didn't care about honour nearly as much as people thought.
I cared about results.
And my results were beginning to speak for themselves.
Three cities in Slaver's Bay now operated under my influence. Elyria, Tolos, and Mantarys might be small compared to the Free Cities, or giants like Meereen, Yunkai, or Astapor, but they gave me a strategic foothold in Slaver's Bay, along with a place to dock and repair ships for the trade I ran with Yi Ti.
More importantly, an army in Essos.
Mercenaries, sellswords, and men raised from those cities, even the Dothraki horde, were now at my disposal.
That was far more useful than a reputation for heroism. Not that the reputation lacked merit, but hard power was worth far more than a good name, as Aegon the Conqueror had already proven.
Lady Shella smiled. "You have certainly grown since I last saw you."
"People keep telling me that." I glanced toward Soryn, a smirk tugging at my mouth. "Though I suspect some of them are merely disappointed I didn't grow into something easier to push around."
Soryn coughed into his fist to hide his laugh.
Lady Shella's eyes narrowed slightly, but a small smile crept onto her face despite herself.
"You haven't lost your sense of humour, at least."
"I would hate to become boring." I let my smile widen. "And what about you? Still as beautiful as ever."
The old lady chuckled at that, waving a dismissive hand though her cheeks coloured faintly.
I turned toward the Riverlords and their families, who were watching us with poorly hidden interest.
"I'm honoured by your presence and your friendship, my lords and my ladies," I said, raising my voice enough to carry. "The journey here has been long, and I would hate to think I'd travelled all this way only to spend the entire tourney listening to drunk knights brag about how many women they've slept with."
A few of the Riverlords laughed outright.
Others exchanged amused looks.
Good.
Relaxed people talked more. And talking people revealed things.
I moved slowly through the gathered nobles, exchanging greetings and brief words with each house. Nothing important enough to attract attention, but enough to remind them that I remembered their names, their lands, and, more importantly, the debts they owed.
House Mooton was interested in expanding trade. House Piper wanted protection for its merchants.
House Roote needed grain. House Vance wanted more equipment from the Iron Circle.
Everyone wanted something.
And everyone had something to offer that I could use, and, more importantly, I could be certain that when I called my banners, they'd answer.
I wish I could see the Tullys' faces when the Lannisters come to take their place, and when Edmure calls his banners and half the Riverlords don't bother showing up. Though I'd need to move fast, quietly placing some of my men to help them keep their castles and lands safe from the Lannisters.
As I reached the final group, Soryn stepped closer, his voice low.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"I haven't even started," I murmured back, my eyes following the Riverlords around us.
"How many of them are actually loyal to you?" he whispered.
"Especially the former Targaryen loyalists," I added quietly. He looked at me in surprise, a smile breaking across his face; he'd served my mother's family for a while, coming from the same lineage as Maegor Brightflame, and the thought seemed to genuinely please him.
"Don't talk about that for now. We'll talk later," I said coldly, my eyes flicking to make sure no one was close enough to hear. I'm a Targaryen, not something I can afford to have known for a few more months.
"Loyalty is expensive, Soryn. Fortunately, I've become very good at buying things," I said, and we made our way toward the Vale lords to exchange greetings, but first, I had to greet my old friends.
Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Jasper.
"Rise, old friends. You don't have to kneel," I said as they rose and pulled me into rough embraces.
"It's been a year since we last saw you. You've grown taller," Ser Robar said, stepping back to look me over.
"So it seems," I said with a chuckle.
"Where's your father?" Ser Robar asked, glancing around, clearly confused by Lord Royce's absence.
"He got seasick. He's in the carriage," I said, jerking my thumb back toward the large carriage in Arryn colours that trailed behind us.
"And more handsome," Ser Lyn commented, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I'm not into men, Ser Lyn, let me make that clear," I said, keeping my tone light, and the joke broke the tension enough that the four of us shared a laugh.
"I'll talk with you all properly tonight, but before that there are many waiting for me," I said, gesturing toward the Vale lords and their families.
"Yes, of course, my lord," Ser Jasper said.
"Yes, I'll also go check on how my old man's doing," Ser Robar said, excusing himself.
POV ends