Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~

Chapter Ninety Six: The Second Son of House Tyrell

By the time that Willas got to the room that had become Bertie's nursery - only one room down from Uther's - a herd of guards had gotten there too. It seemed as though whatever conflict had happened had ground swiftly to a halt before they had even arrived, hence the guards standing around uncertainly, not quite sure of what to do with themselves, though one of them was attempting to wrestle Garlan off the floor, where he-

Gods, was that a man beneath his brother? Willas could barely tell, considering Garlan had pummelled his face to a red mess.

He barely noticed the rest of the scene, how much of a state the rest of the room was in, because his brother's fists were red, coated in blood, and Garlan didn't seem to care, not in favour of punching the man again before his hands wrapped around his throat.

"Let him go," Willas told the guard trying to force Garlan away quietly, and though he followed the instruction, it was only done reluctantly. Once he was away, Willas clenched his jaw and looked at his brother. "Garlan. Stop."

He didn't. Willas was sure it was the first time his brother didn't heed his authority.

He took that opportunity to glance around the rest of the room, his heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through him like a storm. The room was a mess, furniture and belongings strewn across the floor, making a struggle obvious. In the corner of the room, one of the nursemaids his mother had hired to look after Bertie was curled against the wall, sobbing in fear, and Willas didn't blame her, because at her feet was the body of a man missing his throat, his blood as crimson as his shirt. On the opposite side of the room, Oberyn was pinning another man against the wall, a dainty little dagger pointed at the exact spot of his jugular, his face a breath away from his captive as he was whsipering interogations at him. Willas couldn't hear what he was saying, but it must have been intense because the man was crying just as much as the maid.

The last thing he noticed was Honour still grumbling and licking her bloodstained muzzle as she was curled up in the grand-sized cradle, her great furry brown body wrapped around Bertie as he slept as if nothing was happening. Eddmina had once told him that Robb was a heavy sleeper, that she and Jon used to take great delight in seeing what could wake him up. It turned out that not even a murder attempt could wake his son, and Willas was glad of it, not wanting yet another traumatised child in his care. He met Honour's topaz gaze, remembering watching her tear the throat out of a man who had threatened his own son, the man who had scarred his wife's cheek and given her the look of a warrior. Just as he had done then, he nodded a thanks to the wolf, holding his hand out steadily as he approached. Only when she ceased her grumbling did he reach out and ruffle the fur between her ears.

"Good girl," he told her quietly, leaning close and pushing a kiss to the top of her head, not caring when she licked up at him, staining his cheek with blood.

For a brief moment, he felt useless, having come to the scene too late, and was utterly overwhelmed by the sense that he had to do something even if he had no idea what to do. While ever he was petting Honour, the rest of the room didn't matter, but that wasn't very lordly of him, not when his castle had just been infiltrated and his family threatened. It was sickening enough to know his nephew had been the initial target, but the room next doors was Uther's and had he not been occupied...

That thought alone was enough to make him snap to attention, clenching his jaw as he gave Honour's head one last scratch as he glanced down at Bertie. When he was sleeping, he looked like his father, and the reminder of Robb was further fuel to his brewing temper. He took a deep breath as he turned and re-surveyed the room, and his eyes landed on the maid first, still weeping even though she had fallen silent. Dealing with her first was the easiest option, so Willas moved to stand in front of her, offering her a hand to stand, though when she did, she was trembling.