"Come now—in Westeros, might makes right. Three hundred years ago, the Targaryens came here and conquered almost the entire continent, and they were obeyed. Did they have a right to Westeros? Or take an even better example, a very recent one—my father Robert's Rebellion. Did he have the right to seize the throne? King Aerys may have been mad, but he could have been deposed, with the crown passing to his heir, Rhaegar, who had all the makings of a great king. But my father didn't do that. He took the throne for himself, and your father, Lord Hoster Tully, conveniently forgot about the rights of the rightful heir and supported the rebels."
"What do you want?" asked Lord Edmure, and I realized that something in him had changed. The icy armor he had entered the tent with had cracked.
"Of all the Tullys, only you and Lord Brynden the Blackfish remain alive. He is already old and will most likely have no children. That leaves you and your pregnant wife. She is the last hope for the Tully tree to put forth another branch."
"So now we've come to threatening women and unborn children?" Edmure spat angrily.
"Shut your mouth, ser," Daven advised bluntly. "Or I'll help you close it."
"No one is threatening them. But no one is going to look after them either—and why should they?" I went on evenly. "Simply put, if you do not listen to me, you will be executed as a traitor. Riverrun will fall sooner or later, which means we will capture and execute the Blackfish as well. Of all the Tullys, only your child—soon to be born—will remain."
I took a breath and continued slowly.
"Now I suggest you think about that child's future. If it is a girl, she will be married off to an influential lord. She will bear children who may claim Riverrun only in theory. Of course, they will not carry the name Tully. And if a son is born, no one will watch over him as he grows and comes into his strength. To save his life, he will most likely have to leave Westeros and become a sellsword in Essos, as many before him have done. And there, amid sweat, stench, and pain—marching through sand and swamps, fighting fever, malaria, and diarrhea, killing for pennies—he will bitterly remember the folly of his father, who lost a great house. How do you like that future?"
"Yes," Edmure said slowly, his voice tight, "you have ensnared me well with your words. The Lannisters are cunning, and skilled with their tongues. What exactly do you propose?"
"I propose that you remember the words of House Tully. Family, Duty, Honor. Your family comes first—so think of them."
"What will I have to do?"
"You will make a public apology, renouncing all the vile rumors spread about the king. You will swear lifelong fealty to the Iron Throne and acknowledge yourself and all your lands as subjects of the Crown, as before. And you will swear that you will not seek vengeance upon the Freys for the Red Wedding," Jaime said.
"You ask for much."
"This is only the beginning," Daven snorted. "Hear the rest."
"Further," I continued, "the Riverlands forfeit all rights to Harrenhal and the surrounding lands. From this moment on, it becomes a separate fief, temporarily transferred to the Crownlands."
"What else?"
"You are, without doubt, a noble and honest man, Lord Edmure. Therefore, we will release you, and you will order the garrison of Riverrun—and the Blackfish—to surrender. You are the Lord of Riverrun. The people will obey you. After that, our troops will take possession of the castle."
"What will happen to my uncle?"
"Either death," Daven said grimly, "or he will don the black and take the vows of the Night's Watch."
Edmure listened to the terms, his head sinking lower and lower.
"And you will pay a ransom."
"A ransom?" Tully asked in disbelief.
"Yes. A ransom for betraying your king and forgetting your oaths. A ransom for your life, and for the mistakes you have made. It will amount to one million gold dragons. It is called tribute—I trust you are familiar with the term?"
"Riverrun does not possess such wealth," Edmure went pale, but his voice remained firm. "It is simply impossible."
"It is very possible," Jaime countered. "You will contribute not only your own gold, but that of your bannermen as well. After all, they, too, took part in the rebellion, and their guilt is no less. Forgiveness must be earned."
"What will happen to my wife, Lady Roslin?"
"She will accept the king's hospitality and return with me to the Red Keep."
"Hostages?"
"Guarantees of your prudence."
"And me?"
"Once you have sworn your vows, you may remain in Riverrun for the time being to gather the ransom—or leave the task to your bannermen and keep your wife company. In either case, I insist upon royal hospitality at the Red Keep. When the war against the remaining rebels is concluded, you and your family may return to Riverrun."
(End of Chapter)
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