Edmure felt the castle tremble again and knew that another flaming stone had hit the castle. He took a deep breath and knew he had to do something or he would truly die in this castle along with his father, who had always despised him.
The heir of Riverrun walked to the counter and took a vial from a small hidden wooden door. He looked at the transparent liquid in the vial and, after some hesitation, put it in his pocket. His pale blue eyes became increasingly determined, but beneath that determination, there was a deep fear and terror.
"It's all for the family; he'll understand." Edmure murmured, looking at the pale face in the mirror's reflection. He hated looking at himself in the mirror, for he saw only his cowardice. Who wouldn't want to be brave? But he simply wasn't born brave; he was easily startled and tended to hesitate for long periods of time.
Along with the pressure, insults, and disappointment he received throughout his youth, Edmure was a true coward; this cowardice could even make him do something that even brave men couldn't. Which was somewhat ironic, as fear gave courage to the weak.
Leaving the room, the Heir of Riverrun walked down the corridor. There were no maidservants in the castle; all had been sent away when news of the king's army arriving spread. There were only soldiers in the castle, all to save as much food as possible.
It was a gamble: either House Tully ran out of food or the Crown army ran out of food. However, Hoster's plans were frustrated when the trebuchets appeared on the battlefield. These siege weapons were rare even in Essos, much less in Westeros.
Edmure arrived at his father's room and, after looking at the guards protecting the room, entered with visibly hesitant steps.
As soon as he entered the room, Edmure saw his father in bed. After the meeting with Prince Viserys; Jon, the Master of Whisperers; and Cadmus, the Court Mage, his father had fallen ill and had not been able to leave his bed until now.
Edmure knew there was no conspiracy surrounding Hoster's illness; it was just that his father was very old. Wearing armor was an effort that his aged body could not withstand.
"Has something happened, you useless son?" Hoster Tully coughed and asked in a weak tone, looking at his useless son with evident disappointment in his eyes. He wondered if this was the gods' punishment for being an oathbreaker. Sometimes he doubted that his wife had slept with a servant, as he didn't believe that someone so cowardly, bad in combat, and stupid could be his son.
The worst thing wasn't these three flaws, but that Edmure was practically a dog to his wife; the woman commanded, and he obeyed as if he were a damned dog. After witnessing such a stupid scene, Hoster had completely lost hope in Edmure.
If it weren't for the old laws, he would have already chosen Brynden as the heir to Riverrun.
Edmure clenched his fists, hearing his father's offensive words; however, thinking that the old man would die soon, he relaxed and looked at his father with a surprisingly calm gaze.
When Edmure was about to answer, a strong cough sounded in the room, making the Heir of Riverrun approach and help his father sit up in bed.
"I want water." Amidst the coughs, Hoster ordered with an extremely uncomfortable expression on his face.
Edmure's eyes gleamed; he gently let his father sit up and went towards the dresser, which had a water pitcher and glasses on a silver tray.
In Hoster's blind spot, Edmure took out the vial and poured some into the glass; the poison seemed completely invisible in the crystal-clear water. Seeing that everything was ready, the Heir of Riverrun took the glass and went towards the dying Hoster.
With each step, Edmure's heart beat faster; it seemed it would explode from his chest the next moment. He was extremely nervous, sweating like a pig, especially on his hands. He almost dropped the glass a few times before finally reaching the bedside.
"Father, your water." Edmure said, handing the glass to Hoster. However, Edmure's heart almost stopped, seeing his father's pale blue eyes staring at him with a calm and terrifying gaze. Hoster held his son's wrist while looking into his eyes. The fragile and skeletal hand was surprisingly strong; Edmure wanted to pull away but found himself unable to move before those pale blue eyes.
"Why are you sweating so much? Why are you trembling? Why don't you look into my eyes, you useless son?" Hoster spoke, his voice hoarse from coughing, but his eyes were more furious than ever.
Edmure trembled but didn't dare to look into his father's eyes; all the courage he had disappeared at that moment. However, being called stupid made Edmure's expression darken, and a touch of anger was reflected on his face.
"Did you put something in the water? Yes, that must be it." Hoster said calmly, looking at the glass of water handed by his own son. "Is an empty promise enough for you to kill your own father?" "How stupid! You were always so easily manipulated, whether by Catelyn, Lysa, or even that bitch, your wife. You always were and always will be a great disappointment." Hoster spared no contempt, shouting as saliva flew everywhere.
"You are so weak that I doubt your children are really yours; they look more like Cersei than anything else. Perhaps Cersei preferred to screw her own brother rather than have your weak seeds inside her womb."
A fire called rage bubbled in Edmure's chest; he clenched his fists and looked furiously at his father.
In a quick movement, Edmure climbed onto the bed and sat on Hoster's lap. He extended both hands and forcefully strangled his own father's neck.
Hoster's eyes widened; he never thought that his son, who was even afraid of his own shadow, would dare to do such a thing. Feeling difficulty breathing, he began to struggle. He used his palms as he thrashed, but how could a sick and frail old man fight against a young adult man?
Edmure's eyes were red with fury as he strangled his own father with a fierce and angry expression.
When Edmure woke up, he looked down and saw his hands around his father's neck, who had an expression of terror, anger, and sadness. His eyes wide open, staring at him, Edmure would never forget his son's expression, even after death.
The Lord of Riverrun fell backward in complete panic and dragged himself away. His expression was one of pure horror as he looked at his father's lifeless corpse.
"F-father?" Edmure asked hesitantly, but, hearing nothing, he knew the old man was dead. Looking at his own hands, he began to cry, like a child after doing something wrong.
Some minutes later, Edmure stood up with a complex expression and knew he had to do something or everyone would know that his father had died. If they knew Hoster died after his visit, even a fool could see something wrong.
Arranging his father's body in a comfortable position on the bed, as if the old man were sleeping peacefully, Edmure took the poisoned water glass and poured some into the poison vial. He knew he had to kill Brynden or his uncle would kill him first.
Only when Brynden died could he completely control the castle. Only when everyone truly died would this castle be his and no one else's.
Looking once more at Hoster's body, Edmure trembled, but left the room. After leaving the room, he walked towards the castle tower, his uncle's room. Perhaps because he had just killed his own father, he looked pale, but his eyes were surprisingly much calmer than before.
Apparently, killing the reason for his childhood contempt was surprisingly liberating. At that moment, Edmure seemed like the heir Hoster wanted, which ironically only appeared when Hoster himself passed away.
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