The Last Reyne

Rickard

Rickard Stark was brandishing the great valyrian sword Ice in the weirwood when a messenger came traipsing in, before the messenger could speak he said "I thought I have made it clear that when I am here in the wee hours of the morning, I would not be disturbed." His grey eyes looked at the messenger who was now fidgeting. "What is it?"

"Pardon me sire, but the Maester thought it wise that you should know about the ill fate of House Reyne." The messenger handed him the parchment sealed by blue wax with the sigil of House Arryn. His eyes scanned the words in the paper.

"There were no survivors sire." The messenger stated quietly.

Indeed. He thought. Rickard folded the paper and handed it back to the messenger. "Burn it. And tell the Maester I would like to speak with him."

"As you wish sire.

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Rickard waited for Maester Walys in the study. The place smelled damp and a single candle was set in the middle of the table, unlighted. The window provided enough light to illuminate the whole place, after all, the sun was dawning upon the North. He looked outside the window, summer has lasted too long. He shook his head, let the people revere and bask in the sunlight while they can. He felt deep in his bones, winter is coming. A creak of the door and the hobbling a small person clothed in gray robes accompanied with the clinks of metal disrupted the lord from his thoughts.

"Maester Walys, do have a seat." He turned away from the window and gave a nod to the trusted Maester. He was in the prime of his midyears and had served House Stark well. His loyalty could not be questioned.

"Lord Stark." He nodded back at him. "I beg your pardon for the disturbance I have cost you but I thought it be best for you to know that the West now looks up to the young son of Lord Tytos."

"And you think this is ill news for us Northerners? Let the South have their own squabbles, that is what they have always been doing." He shook his head in disgust. "One must be wary when they go there, it's a pit of snakes. Loyalty is something that does not exist in the South."

Maester Walys nodded. "You speak truly my lord. When a lordling tastes power, he may lust for more." He looked at him. "An uprising may be in store. It is of utmost importance that we have connections in the South. One from a great noble house that may benefit the North."

Rickard raised an eyebrow in question. "Are you suggesting that I wed my son to a Southerner?"

"Or at the very least an engagement with a southern House. Brandon is of age my lord, and I know of a Lord in the South who holds much power that has been looking for an appropriate husband for his daughter."

"As much as I trust you Walys, have you ever considered what the Northerners would think of such an act?" He frowned at him. "For years the Starks have wedded only those from the North, and my bannermen would expect me to choose one of their daughters to wed my son."

"I am well aware of that Lord Stark. But tradition needs to be altered or bent at some point for the sake of the survival of your house." He took a shaky breath. "The North is strong, but you would need the strength and fertility of the South to help you when winter comes."

The Warden of the North looked deep into the eyes of the Maester, his cold grey eyes boring into the Maester's brown ones. He could sense the Maester's discomfort but he could still see that he was holding onto his conviction. Rickard turned his back on the Maester and looked out of the window. Perhaps it was wise to build alliances with the South. But he had his doubts, the Starks would always belong to the North. Like a winter blizzard, it would dissipate once it reaches the South. This thought bothered him. And what of the Southerner that his son would marry? She would have to move up North as she would be marrying his heir. Then again, Brandon's blood was hot. He has the wolf blood running in his veins. The Southerners ways would not be such a mystery for him. The lust to taste new things is in his blood after all.

"I know you have your doubts milord." Maester Walys disrupted the lord's thoughts. "But know that I only wish the best for House Stark."

He took a deep breath. Perhaps it would be best to cement an alliance with a southern House. "What House is this that you have in mind Maester?"

"House Tully, my lord."