Chapter 156: Bloody Hal
Waymar had been there when it happened.
Bjorn waited, but the older man seemed in no hurry to continue. His eyes moved across the windows, the narrow passages and the bridge beyond.
Then Waymar smirked.
"There was once a family named Sythan. Wealthy. Respected. Their heir was Glaro Sythan, a young man everyone seemed certain would become important."
"Never heard of them," Bjorn said.
"Aye. There is a reason for that."
Aldric folded his arms.
"What did they want with Mother?"
"Marriage, among other things. There was talk of joining their family with the Valens. Glaro and Lady Seraphine." Waymar paused. "Then your father arrived."
Bjorn glanced at his brother.
Aldric was watching Waymar closely.
"Was she promised to him?" Aldric asked.
"There were discussions. How far they went is something you would have to ask your grandfather. But Glaro certainly believed the matter settled."
"And Mother?"
"Had thoughts of her own."
Bjorn smiled faintly.
"That must have disappointed him."
"Aye and Disappointment was something Glaro endured poorly."
Waymar's smile disappeared.
"I won't give you every argument, threat and private meeting. Some of it I never witnessed. Some of it belongs to your parents. What matters is that the Sythans began making moves against Lady Seraphine."
Aldric's arms tightened across his chest.
"To force Grandfather?"
"To force him. To frighten her. To punish your father. To detain Valens.Men like that can find many reasons to call something necessary. So yeah they attacked her."
"Then your father learned of it . Or Hal learned of it to be accurate."
Bjorn stand there confused.
"That was the name he used back then," Waymar said.
For a moment, only the water beneath the bridge could be heard.
Waymar rubbed his jaw.
"I have followed your father since the Rebellion. I have known, him , Heard about him and seen him myself but never really seen him that way. Never ." He shook his head.
"I saw him angry when that war began. Grieving, too. But there was responsibilty before him. Brothers to protect. Men to command. He could put his grief somewhere."
Bjorn knew those stories.
Uncle Brandon. Their grandfather. The war that had broken their family before either brother was born.
"When word of Lady Lyanna reached him, it was different," Waymar continued. "No rage to speak of. Just grief. He grew quiet. Sometimes you could sit beside him for an hour and get nothing."
Aldric lowered his eyes.
"Little Jon helped him through that," Waymar said. "Gave him someone to fuss over. Your father could argue with a wet nurse over how many blankets a child needed, then complain that none of us let him sleep."
Bjorn let out a small laugh.
"He still does that With Sera it was the same."
"Aye. He never learned. With Aldric was the same. With you also if has known."
Waymar's expression softened briefly.
"Then came Lady Seraphine."
Aldric looked at him again.
"And when he learned what those men intended for her…" Waymar stopped. "I had never seen him like that. Not before. Not since."
"Angry?" Bjorn asked.
"Angry is too small a word."
Waymar looked down at the stones.
"He was hurt. That was the worst of it. You could see it before he began shouting. Then he called for his men."
"What did he order?"
Waymar's voice became quieter.
"'Paint the bloody walls.'"
Neither brother spoke.
"That was what he said. Paint the walls of Braavos with their blood. He called for his demons, told us to find them and not stop."
Bjorn swallowed.
"Until Glaro was dead?"
Waymar shook his head.
"Glaro's death would not have been enough that night."
Aldric stared at him.
"Your father wasn't thinking about when to stop. He wanted blood. Men tried to bargain once they understood what was happening. Sent servants. Offered coin."
"And?"
"He had stopped listening."
A door closed somewhere farther down the street.
Bjorn turned toward the sound before looking back at Waymar.
He had seen his father kill. He had watched him sit in judgement and send powerful men to their deaths.
This was harder to picture.
Not because he doubted it.
Because he did not.
"The fighting came through here," Waymar said. "Into those passages. Across the bridge. Men who had spent years paying others to do their killing discovered that locked doors weren't enough."
Aldric's face had gone pale.
"So the stories are true."
"Some of them. Whom I am kidding. Most of them."
"And the blood?"
"There was enough."
Waymar looked around once more.
"We painted it. That is why they call it the Bloody Street."
Bjorn breathed out slowly.
For a while, none of them moved.
Then Waymar's mouth curved again, though the expression sat strangely after what he had told them.
"This is also where I received the greatest honour of my life."
Aldric frowned.
"What honour?"
"I found the bastard behind the men sent after Lady Seraphine. Found where he was hiding and brought word to your father."
"Glaro?"
Waymar nodded.
"After that, Your Father named me his First Sword."
Bjorn looked at the older man.
He had always known Waymar held a place beside his father that few men could claim. He had never asked where it began.
"You were already his friend."
"Aye."
"Already fought beside him."
"Aye."
Waymar smiled
Bjorn rubbed a hand over his face.
"That is…" He stopped, searching for something better. "Father has some heavy stories."
Waymar laughed grimly
"He does."
"More than I knew."
"More than most men know. Some are told in halls. Some are buried, and I doubt he wants anyone digging them up. Not pleasant for him."
Aldric glanced down the street.
Waymar continued" There are many names he is known by — Demonwolf. Demon of the North. Hal. Bloody Hal. Artos the Great Khal. The One-Eyed Stark." Waymar counted them without much thought. "Those are only the names people dare use in company. Only some of them."
Bjorn shook his head.
"And we call him Father."
"Aye," Waymar said. "You do."
They returned to the palace quieter than they had left it. It was a quiet heavy story to digest.
Neither brother wanted company.
Aldric sent the servants away after asking for wine, then closed the door himself. Bjorn stood beside the table, still wearing his cloak.
"You can take that off," Aldric said.
Bjorn looked down as though he had forgotten it.
"Aye."
He dropped it over a chair and sat.
Aldric poured two cups.
For several moments, they drank without speaking.
"I knew it was bloody," Aldric said at last. "I didn't know he ordered it like that."
"Would it have changed anything?"
"I don't know."
Bjorn rolled the cup between his palms.
"He thought he was going to lose her."
"I heard. I didn't know they had a story like this. I almost didn't happen."
Aldric looked at him.
Bjorn drank.
"I keep trying to imagine him there. "
"Still him."
"Aye."
Aldric sat opposite him.
"Mother never told me."
"Would you have wanted her to?"
"I would have listened. It's an interesting story to say the least."
Bjorn had no answer to that.
Outside, a boatman called across the canal. His voice faded beneath the windows.
"Vex spoke about the profits," Bjorn said. "The wars. Father's clever dealings. Then Waymar tells us this."
"Both happened."
"I know. That's what troubles me."
Aldric took a slow drink.
"Braavos remembers whatever part suits the man speaking. A merchant remembers the ships he gained. Grandfather remembers the men who tried to ruin him. Waymar remembers following Father into this street."
"And Father?"
Aldric looked into his cup.
"He rarely tells us anything."
Bjorn let out a humourless laugh.
"That is true."
He leaned back.
"God knows How much else is he keeping from us?"
Aldric did not answer immediately.
Bjorn noticed.
"What?"
"There are other things."
"What sort of things?"
Bjorn straightened.
Aldric glanced toward the door.
"Father still has work here. More than trade. Waymar handles most of it."
"I gathered that much."
"He also hears things those men would rather keep quiet. The network, you know brother and I got some interesting things "
Bjorn studied his brother.
"How do you know?"
"Because I began helping him."
"With Father's permission?"
Aldric coughed" I am not going to answer that. I was already reading shipping reports and letters from our partners. Some names kept appearing where they should not."
"What names?"
"Not always the same ones. That was part of the problem. Different men using the same contacts. Payments that had little to do with the goods being moved."
Bjorn's expression hardened.
"You are in Father's information network."
"I help with it."
Bjorn almost smiled.
Then Aldric spoke again.
"The Blackfyres."
The smile vanished.
"What about them?"
"There are reports. Men in Essos gathering around the name. Money moving. Old loyalties being spoken of again."
"A claimant?"
"Perhaps."
Bjorn set his cup down.
"How long has he known?"
"I don't know when the first word reached him. He asked Waymar to look into it. Quietly."
"And you involved yourself."
"Aye."
"Does Grandfather know?"
"He knows enough. Waymar is careful about what goes into a letter and who carries it."
"And what does Father intend to do?"
"Well He doesn't want another war growing across the sea while everyone in King's Landing argues over taxes. So I think Bravos side needs to handle it."
Bjorn looked toward the dark windows.
His father had already been fighting another struggle here.
"Gods," he muttered. "Does he ever stop?"
"No."
"And you?"
Aldric met his eyes.
"I can help him here."
Bjorn wanted to argue.
Instead, he picked up his cup.
"Then don't do it alone."
"I have Waymar."
"You have me as well. You are still my little brother."
Aldric nodded and laughed. "Aye,"
They drank again.
Then Aldric placed his cup upon the table.
"There was one other thing Father asked."
"Another investigation?"
"No. A favour. Personal Favour he said " Aldric said very seriously for a change.
Bjorn looked at him.
"Personal?"
"Aye."
"What?"
Aldric held his brother's gaze and gulped hard and takes a drink.
"He asked me to protect Daenerys Targaryen."