(Anya Waynwood POV)
I have served my house for almost twenty years as its head, and I have served it well. I was my father's only child, and after my mother died, he never remarried.
I was raised to rule, not to be sold off as a broodmare to another house. I married my cousin, Hother. It was no grand political match, but we loved each other, and our family approved. He fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings as my father's squire. My father died in that war, and Hother earned his knighthood. My uncle, Robar, who was also my good-father, arranged our marriage to secure the line of succession. I did my duty, and our union brought me two sons.
But nothing lasts forever. My husband died in an ambush set by one of the notorious mountain clans, 'The Howlers,' along with ten good knights. We also lost the Valyrian steel sword our ancestors had left behind.
I asked Lord Arryn for retribution, but we all knew our knights held no power deep in the mountains. All I could do was mourn.
Bound by duty, I could not raise my sons as I wished, and the distance between us grew.
Then a plague took our mining village. The miners and their families all died. We sealed the village to contain it, a grim necessity. The iron mine was our primary source of income. Without the miners, we faced financial ruin. We couldn't simply hire farmers; mining is a skilled trade. The neighboring lords would not part with their own. Only the Westerlands had a surplus. I contacted Lord Tywin Lannister. I knew he would only give us men who had served the Reynes and Tarbecks. The price was exorbitant.
I married again, for political reasons. My uncle arranged my marriage to a Gulltown Arryn, who provided the gold we needed. I married the sickly Artos Arryn. He died the morning after our bedding, but he had done his duty. He was a kind man.
His death spawned vile rumors. Lord Arryn used his authority to crush them before they could spread. For that, he has my house's eternal loyalty.
Time passed. I left my sons in the care of my uncle, Robar. He handles most of my house's duties, but he is not getting younger. Most of my time was spent attending Lord Arryn's court, where I gained influence and could be called a friend of Jon Arryn.
Then a new crisis emerged. My son and heir, married only a year, began trying to undermine me. I know it is his wife's whispers. I never planned to rule forever; I intended to step down within a year. But my house was at its weakest, and I needed to find a loyal and capable knight to replace Uncle Robar.
To find a new captain for my household guard, I attended the tourney at Harrenhal with Lord Arryn. A tourney that grand would surely have worthy candidates.
I needed a good swordsman, for horses are useless against the mountain clans. A skilled man could become a master-at-arms and train my guards.
I watched the melee and found him. He fought with formidable skill, like the legendary Winged Knight himself, defeating opponent after opponent. Even Lord Yohn Royce fell to him.
But I lost interest when he brawled with Lord Baratheon.
At the feast, I saw the knight of the winged helm again. He was a different man at night—elegant, tall, and composed. I asked my bored eldest son to meet him. Morton had few friends; perhaps he could make one. I inquired about this knight, but found little. The competition for his favor was fierce. Even Lord Arryn was interested.
I was pleased to see my son join a drinking contest with Ser Julius Harlane and Lord Baratheon. He was making his own connections.
But the foreign knight was more than a drinker and fighter. His singing voice could match Prince Rhaegar's. How could one man be so accomplished? He was an enigma.
When I danced with Lord Arryn, Ser Julius approached and asked me for a dance. I was surprised but accepted. I know I have passed the prime of my beauty, but the gesture was courteous.
My son, Morton, joined the joust and was defeated by a knight from House Bracken. Ser Julius, I learned from Olenna Tyrell, had been the champion at Highgarden but did not join the lists at Harrenhal. A curious decision.
The tourney ended poorly. Lord Arryn wished to return to the Vale with haste. The other Valelords departed, and Ser Julius joined our contingent. My son told me the knight wished to see the Vale. Morton spoke highly of him and his advice. I was glad my son had found a friend of such caliber.
I was also grateful for Ser Julius's company on the road. He was a remarkable entertainer, his tales of distant lands captivating everyone. His friendship with Lord Baratheon was a boon to our travels.
We were delayed by my carriage, which sparked an argument with Morton. He was right; the roads were growing more dangerous. The mountain clans were bold, and our guard was small.
I proposed a solution to my son: we should invite Ser Julius to Ironoaks. Morton agreed enthusiastically. We extended the invitation.
The knight accepted with chivalrous grace. "I would be honored to ensure the safe passage of the Lady of Ironoaks and her son," he said.
The journey was engaging. Ser Julius traveled with six young men. He had knighted his two previous squires at Harrenhal, and these new ones were just as impressive. They possessed the skill to best veteran knights. My son could not defeat three of them together. His ability to train them was remarkable.
Then the mountain clans attacked in the night. Morton was injured. Donnell, though physically unharmed, was shaken, refusing to leave his brother's side. My trusted servants were dead. But the savages were all dead, and Ser Julius had ensured it.
I saw their chief die. His end was brutal, but it was justice.
Ser Julius then presented me with the sword he had taken from the clan leader. My breath caught. It was my house's lost Valyrian steel blade, the last wielded by my husband. Such a treasure is beyond price.
He could have kept it by right of conquest. When I asked why he did not, he replied plainly, "My Lady, this is the legacy of House Waynwood. It belongs with you and your sons. I am a guest in your land; it would be a poor repayment of your hospitality to claim your heritage. Besides, I value the friendship I have found here more than any sword."
His words were direct and honorable. I was struck by his integrity. I had schemed to recruit him, and in return, he had saved my family and returned our greatest treasure. The debt was immense. I would need to speak with my uncle.
Two of my guards had survived. On Ser Julius's counsel, I sent them to Ironoaks to fetch Uncle Robar, Maester Lomas, and reinforcements.
We resumed our travel. My carriage was unusable, so Ser Julius offered me a place on his horse. It was a practical solution. The gesture reminded me of riding with my father long ago.
I was sick with worry for Morton, but Ser Julius assured me his head wound would heal with rest. The way he had treated the injury was surprisingly proficient. "He will wake when his body is ready," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His confidence was a comfort.
I found myself leaning against his back for stability. He kept one arm positioned carefully across my middle to secure me, his grip firm and impersonal. He was not wearing his armor.
"Ser Julius," I asked, "why have you not donned your plate? We can wait."
He did not turn his head. "It would be an poor shield for you, my lady. The steel would cause you more harm than any stray arrow on this safe stretch of road. My sword is enough."
It was a practical, thoughtful answer. A moment later, the horse stumbled on a loose stone. My grip slipped, and his securing arm tightened instantly, preventing a fall. It was a firm, clinical grasp, nothing more.
"You have my thanks, Ser," I said.
"Of course, my lady," he replied, his voice even. His gaze stayed fixed on the path ahead, his posture alert to every sound in the surrounding woods. He was a man completely absorbed in his duty. In that moment, I saw the same qualities Lord Arryn and my son valued in him: a straightforward honor, a focus on his word and his task that made the flattery and schemes of other knights seem childish.