The Prince That Was Promised (Old Version)

Chapter 14: Judgment and Revelations.

Orys Targaryen
Ironrath Great Hall

Orys sat at the head of the long table in the Great Hall of Ironrath. Rodrik Forrester sat to his right, his wife to his left. The murmur of voices filled the chamber, rising as the doors creaked open. All heads turned as Ludd Whitehill and his son, Griff, were dragged in, both in chains.

"Traitors! Bolton lapdogs!" The crowd's jeers echoed through the hall.

Tormund shoved Griff forward, sending him sprawling. Vorrin did the same to Ludd, forcing the old lord to his knees. Orys stood.

"All of you, quiet down." His voice rang through the hall, cutting through the clamor. "Yesterday, we fought side by side, and we won. Ironrath has been liberated. Today, you will witness the judgment of the remaining members of House Whitehill, and I tell you all why I led the Freeflok through the Wall, for those do not know."

The hall fell into a tense silence. All eyes were on him. But before he could continue, Ludd Whitehill raised his head and spat, "Who do you think you are, bastard? You're not my liege lord, and you're no king of mine. You have no right to judge me or mine!"

Another uproar from the crowd. Orys glanced at Shireen, who offered him an amused smirk. He turned back to Ludd, his expression hardening.

"Lord Whitehill," Orys began, his voice cold and commanding, "you are here because you invaded and pillaged the lands of House Forrester. You are here because you slaughtered its people. You are here," his voice rising with anger, "because you took part in the Red Wedding. You betrayed your liege lord and your King, my brother, Robb Stark, the King in the North."

"The King in the North!" The hall roared in unison, even the Free Folk chieftains echoing the cry.

Ludd sneered. "I followed my lord. My lands fall under Bolton's rule. I won't take part in this farce of a trial. I did what I must for my family, for my liege. I put my boot to these high-and-mighty Forresters, as I was ordered, as was done with other Stark dogs. I don't expect fair judgment here, nor do I recognize your authority. I demand a trial by combat."

Griff hesitated, casting a wary glance at his father, but eventually stepped forward. "I will stand with him."

Orys shook his head, prideful to the end. He gave Gwyn Whitehill a sympathetic look. At least, he thought, I might send your brother to the Wall.

Flashback - Shortly After the Battle

"You, Grace, I have one request." Gwyn Whitehill stood before him, her voice quiet but steady. "Let my brother's body be returned to Highpoint. He should be buried there, as honor demands. I know my family is owed little... but I ask this, nonetheless."

"You shall have that," Orys answered. "As for your father and brother, both still live, though I cannot say the same for their futures. Your father's fate was sealed after what he has done. But your brother... if he conducts himself with tact, he may take the Black. The Wall needs men for what is coming."

A storm of emotion flickered across Gwyn's face, relief, sorrow, uncertainty.

"Thank you. For my brothers." She hesitated, then asked, "And what of me?"

It was a question Orys had been pondering himself. Gwyn, the last remaining child of Ludd Whitehill, the heir to a disgraced house. There were options, exile, marriage to a loyal bannerman, or... something else.

"I have considered your history," he said. "We've spoken of it before." Gwyn nodded slowly. Noting their past conversation, after both the Whitehills and Forrester had come to ask for arbitration after the whole Asher and Gywn debacle.