And if the Blackfish doesn't listen? Jaime thought. If that were the case then Jaime supposed either he'd have to truly become like his father, or else admit defeat and lead the assault himself. And then he would have to contend with the wolves...
No, Jaime thought, squaring his shoulders as they arrived and strengthening his resolve. I must have faith. Tommen's dreams have not misled me yet.
...
Looking around, Jaime saw for himself the state of the siege Daven had described. Riverrun was encircled by a fast-flowing moat, river water coming in one end and rushing out the other. So the siege was divided between three camps. Ser Emmon's seemed the most prominent, headlined by a set of gallows, a faintly bored-looking Edmure standing below the noose. Banners surrounded him.
Mooton, Peake, Vance, Goodbrook and many more. But there were also banners missing. The Mallisters had not made an appearance, nor had the Brackens. And among those Riverlords assembled, few besides the Freys seemed enthusiastic.
This will be harder than even I expected, Jaime gloomily predicted as they rounded this side of the siege to Daven's own camp. Our new friends are no friends at all. Here was the command tent, the Lannister sigil proudly displayed. Jaime dismounted his horse, letting some stableboy lead it away as he pushed aside the tent-flaps.
"Here at last, are you?" Genna Lannister boomed, a slight grin on her face. She was a fat woman, but somehow she seemed more shapely than slovenly. Her breasts threatened to overflow her bodice, despite the fact that her waist was no longer as pinched as it once had been. Birthing four children had seen to that. Her face was broad and smooth, red in the cheeks, her neck thick as her head, her hips wider than her shoulders. Without words she pulled Jaime into a hug with surprising strength, planting deliberately sloppy kisses on his cheeks. "How are you?"
"Well enough," Jaime demurred. "What are you doing here?"
"Emmon had to come when he'd heard we'd been granted Riverrun," Genna said. "I thought it was a stupid idea, giving my fool of a husband such a great seat, but you can also imagine my displeasure at discovering that the castle was taken from us almost as quickly as it was given. Emmon was beyond irritating for a good long while."
"King Tommen takes a greater interest in the affairs of the realm than his brother ever did," Jaime said diplomatically. "He decided it was best that House Tully should survive this war, if such a thing were possible."
Genna's eyes narrowed in understanding. "He means for the Tullys to keep Riverrun?" she asked, incredulous. "But they won't accept House Frey as their overlords in a thousand years. It would only sow the seeds for more bloodshed. How could my brother have allowed this?"
"It was decided that the Freys would not last long as Lords Paramount no matter what we did," Jaime said. "The moment Lannister forces withdrew from the Riverlands the fighting would start again. The other lords would hardly bear being ruled by men who break guest right."
"So what is the plan?"
"As far as seats go, how satisfied do you think your husband would be with Harrenhall?"
Genna's eyes widened. "Very satisfied, I should imagine. Why?"
"Enough to turn his back on Lord Walder at the Twins, and bring some of his more honourable relations with him?"
Genna frowned. "Jaime... Gods be good... Are you saying...?"
"It was decided that dispensing justice for the crimes committed during the Red Wedding would serve to hasten the process of bringing the Vale and the North back under the authority of the crown. The Tullys did well to spread their influence to those kingdoms. We can use that goodwill to our advantage. And better that the Crown should be seen to be the arbiters of justice. It will help to increase His Grace's legitimacy."
"The grain shipments... They weren't just for a winter harvest, were they? They were to get the other lords to turn a blind eye."
Jaime nodded. "And when all is said and done, stability in the Riverlands will be secured in the same way as in the Reach. Carefully arranged matches between the surviving sons and daughters of the Riverlords, tying them together and conveniently to the Crown in turn. Needless to say, this is to remain a secret."
"Needless to say," Genna cackled in a delighted agreement as she shook her head. "This smacks of your father. Ambitious. The work of the kind of man who comes along once in a thousand years, indeed."
"It was Tommen's idea," Jaime interjected. "Not my father's."
At that Genna paused and cocked her head. "Is it true what they say about him?" she eventually asked. "Another Tywin?"
Jaime shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I think he's better."
Genna's brows climbed up her forehead. "High praise," she remarked.
"My father seems to agree," Jaime said. "I'd describe him as a mix of the best of all of us, muddled in with precious little of the worst. Dutiful. Cunning. A tad too soft-hearted, some might say, but never to the point of ruin. He still has a lot yet to learn, but he's learning fast."
"I remember when he was just a little babe, scared of his own shadow," Genna said. "I should go and meet this new king when I can. Get his measure for myself."
"You should," Jaime said. "But first Harrenhall. You'll have to go there once the siege is done. I left a good contingent of Lannister men there for you. They know to answer only to you. And once I'm done with the rest of the Riverlands I'll head north. Think you can keep your husband and sons from doing anything stupid when they hear?"
Genna waved her hand dismissively through the air. "I can handle my husband well enough," she said. Of course she could. Even after all these years, Genna Frey was still a Lannister in all but name. "More important is the siege. How are you planning to end it?"
"I'm going to treat with the Blackfish," Jaime said.
"That won't work," Genna immediately retorted.
"I mean to offer him good terms," Jaime said. "And I won't be alone."
Genna eyed Jaime carefully, eyes running up and down, flicking to his hook and then back to his face. "Terms require trust," she said. "The Freys broke guest right. And you, well, you are the Kingslayer. It might have been the Mad King you broke your oaths to kill, but you broke them all the same."
"I'm not the Kingslayer anymore," Jaime said.
"So I heard," Genna said. "But do you think the Blackfish will believe you? Do you think he'll care?"
"He won't have to," Jaime said. "Where is Edmure?"
"Out there, somewhere," Genna said, gesturing to the tent-flaps. "He should be back from the gallows, now. Why?"
"Edmure has been threatened with death already," Jaime said as he turned and made to leave, "so I'm going to go threaten him with life instead."
Jaime set off at a swift pace, marching stiffly across camp, making for Emmon's half of the siege. He made surprisingly quick time on his feet, and before he knew it he was across the river and wandering amongst Freys and the other Riverlords. Among the tents he wondered, till finally he saw it: The Lord of Riverrun.
His feet were caked with mud and his legs were bared. His hands were bound tight behind his back. Only a long silken tunic bearing the sigil of House Tully hid his manhood from view, long since sullied by mud and dust. He looked defeated, utterly broken. His head hung low. But when he heard Jaime's footfalls, he lifted his gaze from the ground and his eyes narrowed in recognition even as he licked his bloody lips to speak, his beard caked in filth.
"Kingslayer," he said, no doubt using the name to irk him in some stupid show of defiance.
"Edmure," Jaime acknowledged him, refusing to react. From within a nearby tent Lord Emmon emerged. With nervous, wandering hands, he seemed a fretful man. Even clad in mail and a little plate he looked small. Like a boy wearing a man's clothes. He was an eminently pitiable person, or perhaps contemptuous. In his old age, only a few white wisps still clung to his head. Time had only reduced him, and Jaime was sure that marriage to a woman like his aunt had not helped much. "Lord Emmon."
"Ser Jaime," Emmon greeted him reservedly, almost regarding him with suspicion.
"What is this business with Lord Edmure?" Jaime asked.
"I gave the Blackfish warning," Lord Emmon explained. "I told him his nephew would die he refused to yield. The same trick worked against Jason Mallister at Seagard. But it seems that Ser Brynden Tully is of a colder sort."
"You threatened to kill his nephew if he refused, and he refused. So then why haven't you killed Lord Edmure yet?" Jaime asked.
At that Emmon hesitated, reddening slightly. "If we kill Lord Edmure then we have no hostage."
"And if you don't kill him you prove your words to be a lie," Jaime said.
"I meant to preserve the lives of our men," Emmon said.
A likely story, Jaime thought scornfully. More likely our Lord Frey meant to weasel a way to take Riverrun for himself. "A noble goal," Jaime said. "But not practical. Go fetch a maid to run a bath and fetch some proper food for Lord Edmure here, and then go see your wife. I have already spoken to her. I need to speak to our prisoner alone."
Emmon nodded and set off. Edmure's gaze remained fixed on Jaime's face. "Why?" he asked.
Jaime knelt down to Edmure's level. "Emmon's mistake was trying to bargain with the Blackfish. Brynden Tully is an old man. Valiant, yes, but old. He has no children to care for, no wife to weep for him. The best he can hope for is a warrior's death. But you... You are yet young. Your wife is pregnant. You could have a future. And you are the rightful lord of House Tully. Which means that the fate of Riverrun is in your hands."
Edmure licked his lips again. "The fate of Riverrun..."
Jaime nodded. "I mean to treat with your uncle, and I mean to bring you with me. I'll send you back to him. Convince him to yield the castle and nobody dies. Your smallfolk will be allowed to continue their lives as before. The garrison will be allowed to go free, so long as Brynden takes the black. Your child will have a good match arranged for it. And you... You will be allowed to keep Riverrun along with most of it's lands for yourself so long as you swear vows of fealty to the crown, though you'll not retain your title as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands."
At that Edmure balked. "I don't believe you," he said after a while. Jaime could understand that. To Edmure it must have seemed too good to be true.
"When I was your sister's captive she made me swear to never again take up arms against House Tully," he said. "I'd rather not break that oath if I can avoid it." Edmure still seemed sceptical. Jaime reached down and pulled one of Tommen's letters from his pocket. "But you need not believe me. I have the writ from His Grace right here."
Edmure's eyes flicked over it, not quite reading it as much as observing it. Jaime folded the parchment back up and pressed it into Edmure's hands for him to peruse later on at his own pleasure. "And if I refuse to yield?" he asked.
"Then all that I'm offering you goes away," Jaime said. "Don't forget that I'm the son of Tywin Lannister. I am just as capable of cruelty as I am of kindness. We'll storm the keep. We'll show no mercy to anyone. And if your wife should birth your child before the siege is over, I'll be sure to send the babe to you. In a catapult."
...
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