Edmure was silent for a long time, lost in thought. At last, he raised his head and looked at Jaime.
"You offer me peace," he said quietly, "but how can I trust those who break their vows? My sister released you, and you swore to free Sansa and Arya… So why are they not free?"
"Lady Sansa is in King's Landing, and she has married Tyrion Lannister," Jaime said, his confusion fleeting. "When I returned to the capital, I simply did not know where to send your niece. Winterfell lies in ruins, Riverrun is under siege, and Lysa Arryn of the Vale has not responded to any of my letters. So where could I send Lady Sansa?
"Lord Tully, your niece enjoys all the privileges due to her by birth and status. At present, neither her life, nor her honor, nor her feelings are threatened." I was surprised that Jaime had taken it upon himself to decide Sansa's fate and had even written to Lysa Arryn. "If you agree to this proposal, you will be able to support your niece in the Red Keep and see for yourself that my words are true."
"Very well," he nodded, his hair falling over his shoulders. "And what about Arya?"
"That is more complicated," I said. Now it was my turn to hide my uncertainty. What could I tell Edmure? Sooner or later, he would learn that Arya Stark had been sent to the Dreadfort, to the Boltons. He might also discover that she was not the real Arya. I did not want to deceive this man, but I could not tell him the truth either. I had to make do with generalities. "I promise we will return to this question in due time. For now, I can say only that the girl is alive."
Tully fell silent again, thinking intently for several minutes.
"Tell me," he finally said, lifting his head and catching my gaze, "why are you doing all this? It would be easier to kill me and my family and install a new, obedient lord in Riverrun."
"Is that important to you?"
"Yes. My decision depends on it."
"The thing is, no matter what you may think, I am still the king of the Seven Kingdoms. I would not wish such a glorious and ancient house as the Tullys to cease to exist within my realm. So I want to give you a second chance, as kings of the past have done. People make mistakes from time to time, and you will have the opportunity to realize that."
A long silence followed.
"Very well. I agree, Your Majesty," the Lord of the Riverlands said at last.
When the prisoner was led away, we all looked at one another. Daven did not bother to hide his broad smile, and Jaime nodded to me, silently acknowledging that the conversation had gone extremely well.
That same evening, Lord Edmure was given a hot bath and the chance to put himself in order. A barber and a hearty dinner helped restore some of his former dignity. He was dressed in new clothes and sent to Riverrun Castle.
The entire camp turned out to witness the spectacle. Thousands of eyes followed the lone figure as he passed the defensive palisade, walked between the dug-out fortifications, and stopped at the edge of the moat, at the place where the bridge was to be lowered.
For several minutes, nothing happened. Only faces and helmets flickered between the battlements of the fortress wall. It seemed that the commander of the garrison, Brynden Blackfish, was in no hurry to admit his nephew into the castle, wisely guessing how it might all end.
Yet there, at the edge of the moat, stood the rightful lord of the Riverlands, his expression grim but resolute, his head lifted toward the dark battlements, the wind playing with his cloak. The vassals and standard-bearers could not bring themselves to deny him.
And when the chains creaked and the drawbridge lowered at Tully's feet, I knew I had won and laid the first stone in the foundation of my future authority and glory.
Now the realm would know that King Joffrey I had just taken the great castle of Riverrun without a single drop of blood spilled.
Our troops began to file through the black maw of the gate like a long iron snake. When everything had been inspected and the garrison disarmed, Jaime allowed me to enter. The only thing that slightly dampened the mood was that Brynden Blackfish was nowhere to be found.
It seemed the seasoned, cold-blooded old man had somehow managed to slip out of the castle. I wondered where he would surface next.
"Do you know what I regret?" Daven Lannister said to me as we rode into the castle, three abreast.
The horses' hooves thudded dully on the wooden planks. Below us, beneath the bridge supports, water splashed softly.
"What is it, Uncle?" I played along.
"That I won't get to see old Frey's ugly mug when Edmure Tully's raven arrives with the latest news and orders," he laughed loudly, startling his horse. The animal snorted and jerked, but Daven tugged on the reins and calmed it.
Jaime and I smiled despite ourselves. Yes, old Frey had organized the Red Wedding, ended up taking the blame,but he clearly had no idea how all this would end. And most importantly, in formal terms, Tywin had kept all his promises.
"The nasty old man will die of diarrhea—what could be better?" Daven added, bursting into laughter once more.
(End of Chapter)
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