cp11

Chapter 11

I had chosen our meeting ground with care, and if I was honest, to make a point. When Tywin Lannister's forces retreated, they had done so with great haste. As such, I figured it sent a fitting message to hold the upcoming meeting in Tywin Lannister's own pavilion, in the abandoned ruins of his own camp. Not to mention his tent was just better than mine had been.

It was perhaps not a subtle message, but at this point I wasn't looking to do subtle. I could see the lords around me stewing in growing frustration, and it was a frustration I shared whole heartedly. When I had defeated the Lannisters, I had many plans in mind. I had planned to meet up with Bolton's forces and give fast pursuit, perhaps crushing Tywin if I was lucky. I had planned to meet Robb Stark and derail his plans to become King of the North. Well, all those plans had been foiled.

Instead of quickly joining me, Bolton had managed to drift south at a snails pace. A journey of a few days had turned into nearly a fortnight. Perhaps some of it was my fault, since I knew Bolton wasn't to be trusted. But I hadn't expected actions that bordered, to my eyes, on outright treason. Perhaps when it became clear he was dawdling, I should have picked up and left without him. However, I kept telling myself 'one more day' and each day had turned into another. Perhaps I should have gone to him instead of waiting for his arrival, but it quickly had turned into a matter of pride. My lords had protested that I would have lost far too much face, and we would be seen as the supplicant, if I meekly rode to Bolton after my victory. And as a result I had dithered in my camp as the days slipped away.

Truth be told, with hindsight I had not only lost the initiative, but made a mistake. I should have acted somehow, anyhow, when it became clear Bolton was delaying. But I couldn't undo the past; I had to act on events as they were happening. Hopefully my hesitation would only be a small setback. And at least today I would finally get to nail Bolton down.

Which would be crucial, because the last few days the news that had been flooding into camp, stirring up my men like an ant-hive. Just as in the books, Robb had won a crushing victory over Jaime and lifted the siege at Riverrun. What remained of the two Lannister hosts were now reeling in defeat westwards.

Indeed, to complicate matters further, just today word arrived that Robb Stark had crowned himself King in the North. Another opportunity to change events lost by Bolton's dawdling and my own indecision. And now events were unfolding just like the original time-line.

Well. Not just as in the original time-line. Unlike in the books, nearly all of the Riverlords were here with me, not at Riverrun. Robb was King of the North… but so far that was all he was king of. My own lords were starting to exert steadily increasing pressure for me to make a commitment on the Riverlands allegiance. Blackwood and Frey favored us joining the Northern Kingdom, while Bracken preferred Renly, and Mallister Stannis. They all had their own opinion and all wanted me to make a decision on which way the Riverlands would jump. About the only positive of this was that after my battle they were all clearly deferring to me to make the decision.

As yet, I had played my cards close to my chest when it came to whom I intended to declare for, something that was making my bannermen twitch. If at all possible I intended to avoid us bending the knee to Robb and I doubted I would be able to stomach the real Stannis more than I had the character. I wanted another option that would see the Riverlands relatively safe and secure. I had the beginnings of a plan, but for now was still keeping my options open.

In any event, there were more pressing matters to deal with first. My musings were interrupted by a dry cough as Utherydes entered the tent. "My Lord?"

I looked up at the steward. Finally. "They are here?"

At his nod, the lords around me quieted down and focused on the newcomers joining us. I was listening to the introductions with only half an ear, my focus on the man leading them.

On the surface, Roose Bolton looked just as he was described in the books. But the description didn't do him justice. The man was creepy. Damn creepy. It was the eyes, I figured. Still. At least the bastard was finally here. I could tell already he was an asshole.

"Welcome my lords!" I plastered a wide smile on my face as I greeted them. "Lord Bolton, you are most welcome in our camp."

Utherydes read my signal, and servants came in baring drink and bread as I continued. "Please, break your fast with us. We have much to discuss my Lords. Your aid in the coming conflicts are much appreciated."

The Riverlords around me nodded their heads at these words, but Roose only took a cup of wine, sipping it as he regarded me with pale eyes. "Lord Edmure. Have you not heard? King Robb has saved your castle. He has captured the Kingslayer."

I eyed the man. On the surface those words sounded fair, but I didn't care for the undercurrent to them. Before I could answer though, Stevron Frey interjected. "Indeed. We are much grateful for Lord Robb's help. Between his victory and Lord Edmure's, we have the Lannisters on the run. I'm proud that soon I will be able to call Lord Stark 'brother'."

Blackwood followed that up by raising his glass. "To Stark and Tully! The North and the Riverlands!"

I raised my glass with my own lords, and most of the north joined Blackwood in his toast. Indeed, one disheveled northern lord on Bolton's left was draining his wine like it was water. But Bolton simply stared at me with those eyes. His lack of participation in the toast was noticeable, and an uncomfortable hush settled on the room.

"King Robb." Bolton's low voice cut through the awkward silence that had settled in the tent. The cold eyes turned towards Tytos Blackwood and Stevron Frey. "King, not Lord."

The northerners gave a low grumble of agreement at that. Blackwood turned red in the face, but I cut him off before he could respond. "Of course my lords. King Robb. The King in the North. A title my nephew" it couldn't hurt to stress the family relationship, "has well earned with his heroics. We gladly recognize his Grace's title. And are pleased for the help he has given."

Those eyes were back on me then. "You intend to swear to his Grace then?"

I grimaced. I had been hoping to avoid being put on the spot. Bolton was throwing me off center. I hadn't expected him to be such an advocate of Robb. Something was off here.

Finally, after the silence had grown uncomfortable, I gathered my wits. "I'm not sure I understand your question Lord BOlton. Why would we have sworn to Robb? He is the King in The North, surely. This is the Trident."

There was some shifting behind me, but none of the Riverlords challenged my authority on the subject. Even Blackwood and Frey, whom I knew were strong supporters of us joining the North, remained silent waiting for Bolton's response.

Before Bolton could respond through, one of the Northern lords behind him lurched forward, I recognized him as the disheveled man who had been gulping down my wine. "You should swear… You should swear… we saved you all. Northern blood for you damn southerners. Saving your castles… You take… you take and you take…" the man trailed off intro strangled sobs.

Okay. That wasn't what I had been expecting. I eyed the sobbing man warily and took a half step back in case he lashed out. He smelled vaguely sour, of sweat and wine, with an unshaved face and bloodshot eyes.

Even the Northern lords looked rather uncomfortable at that interruption. One of them, a large man with a battle axe on his doublet, put his arm around the drunk, drawing him away and shooting me an apologetic look. "C'mon Halys. Lets get you out of here."

Bolton cleared his throat as the drunk was escorted out of the tent. "Please, forgive Lord Hornwood. He is usually much more… jovial." His lips twitched vaguely. "His son died freeing your lands. At the Whispering Woods. Poor Halys has not coped well with the loss of his heir."

Ahh. That explained it. "Our condolences on his loss."

Bolton gave me another one of those unnerving stares. "His point stands though. Much Northern blood has been shed in freeing your lands from the Lannisters."

All of my lords were looking distinctly displeased at this turn to the conversation, but Blackwood surged to his feet, face red. In his anger he seemed to have forgotten that he had been advocating for us to bend the knee to the Starks prior to this meeting. "You have been shedding blood? Do you think we've been sitting on our arses? Where were you Northerners while we fought Tywin Lannister?"

Bolton met that angry tirade calmly, merely raising a finger. "Where were we? Lifting the siege of Riverrun. Or do you accuse us of shying from battle? Us?" A small smirk. "If we had been at Harroway's town, I'm sure we Tywin Lannister would be in chains, not merely fled from the battle."

One of the Northerners leaped from his chair at that. "King Robb captured the Kingslayer himself! Where is Lord Tywin? Free still."

That was too much for my own lords, even the pro-north faction, and they were on their feet shouting back. I, though, was focused on Bolton. He was calmly leaning back as the chaos reigned in the tent. His ploy was becoming more obvious to me. Whether it was disloyalty, a desire to keep his command, or some other murky motivation, Bolton was trying to drive a wedge between his forces and my own. If he had simply insulted me, the Northern Lords would perhaps have objected. But if he offended my lords by praising Robb Stark and the Northern forces at our expense, well that they were clearly much more willing to entertain. Our anger showed us, to their eyes, as ungrateful.

"My lords." No one was hearing me over the ruckus. "My Lords!" I coupled my yell with pounding the hilt of my dagger on the table, the sound echoing until I had their attention.

"My lords, this bickering serves no one but the Lannisters. We are allies." I inclined my head towards the northern grouping. "We do indeed owe you a debt." I raised my hand to quell the murmuring that came from my Riverlords. "We do. You are our closest allies."

"When Lady Stark," I made sure to emphasize the name Stark, "seized Tyrion Lannister in the name of her husband and son, and led him to his death, the Lannisters poured into our lands, burning and pillaging. It says much of your character and honor that you have ridden to our aid." Several of the northerns looked uncomfortable at that. After all, from a certain view point they may have ridden to save our lands, but said lands were only in danger thanks to their lord and his wife.

"We are allies after all, and allies aid each other." I continued. "You have aided us when our castles were under-siege. We took up arms when we heard Lord Eddard was first captured and then cruelly murdered." There. And that should remind them that this conflict was not just about the Riverlands.

Most of the Northern lords had quited down at that speech, and some were even nodding. Bolton though, just calmly watched me over folded hands. "Well said young Edmure." Despite myself I found myself leaning in to try and catch his soft spoken words. "So I ask again, will you not join us in swearing to his Grace, King Robb?"

I eyed the man sourly, he was forcing me into a corner. "As I said Lord Bolton, the Riverlands have never been sworn to House Stark. We are your allies, not your subjects."

I said that with finality, but Bolton merely raised an eyebrow. "There was a time when house Bolton had never bent the knee to house Stark. When the Glovers ruled as kings and the Manderlys were sworn to Southorn lords." He inclined his head to two of the northern lords behind him. "But all of us have recognized the honor and justice of the Starks. When winter came we all bent the knee gratefully. Are House Tully and your Lords so much greater than our humble Northern houses?"

I grimaced. His words might have had the Northern lords nodding their heads, but it had offended my own bannermen, even the more pro-northern faction. Something I was sure was not an accident. I could see what Bolton was doing. I had never intended to swear to Robb, but now when I refused to do so I would be besmirching the honor of the Northern lords in front of me. And if I did swear to Robb, it would be a tacit admission that the Riverlands could not stand on their own, affronting my own lords. It was calculated to drive a wedge between our forces.

I had no intention of swearing the Riverlands to Robb. I had no problems with the kid, indeed I liked him in the books. He was a good warrior, and more importantly a good person. But strategically and politically it just seemed like a major misstep to bend the knee to him. However, to say that aloud, right at this moment, would also be a misstep. Well. When both your choices are bad, best to take a third path.

"Fair points lord Bolton. The Starks are a house worthy of esteem, few if any can match their honor or skill at arms. The Riverlands have never needed any help in keeping our Independence, as our victory at Harroway Town shows…" A lie, but it had my own lords nodding their heads in agreement. "Still, the Starks are not just any house." And that had the Northerners nodding. "It would be foolish to make any decision before talking with my nephewdirectly." Emphasis again on the family relationship. I could see Stevron Frey and several of my other lords looking pleased at my diplomatic answer.

The Northerners looked much more skeptical though. A Northern lord I did not recognize, he had a black horse with red eyes emblazoned on his tunic, gave a grunt at that. "Sweet sounds, but it seems like so much southern shit to me. Stop with the twisty words and speak plain."

Roose gave a small smile at that. "Now, Lord Rodrick. You must forgive Lord Edmure. He has never seen a real winter. Never seen the Wolfswood or the Wall. He is a civilizedlord. It is not surprising that he would want to hesitate before making such a commitment." Damn it. I was hating this man.

Bolton continued in such a low voice that it forced the lords around us to stop grumbling and lean in to listen. "Still, Lord Edmure. Not all of your Riverlords have been so hesitant. Why, Lord Darry himself has sworn to King Robb."

"Bullshit." That was Bronn at my side, blunt as always.

Bolton cocked his head, studying Bronn. "You are?"

I cut in before Bronn could speak and make this shit-show any worse. "That is Ser Bronn of the Trident, one of the heroes at Harroway Town." No need to get into the fact that he had been a mere sellsword until I had him knighted a week before. "Still, his point stands." I mentally forced an image of the dead man, arrow through his eye, out of my head. "I was at Lord Darry's side when he was killed."

That sly smile reappeared on Bolton's face. "Yes, I had heard. I referred to the current Lord Darry, Ser Raymun's son. His grace liberated him at the Siege of Riverrun, and young Lord Lyman was amongst the first to bend the knee."

Mallister stepped forward at that, face grim. "Darry had no authority to speak for his Liege or for the Riverlands. We are sworn to house Tully." Mallister's blunt words seemed to strike a cord with the Northern lords, some of whom nodded in respect to that comment.

"As is house Darry, but they have recognized his Grace's worth," Bolton countered.

I'd had enough of this. "Lord Darry is a boy. How old?"

The last was to Mallister who gave a grunt. "A boy of eight."

I nodded. "Eight. I'm sure he meant well, but he does not speak for the Riverlands."

"But you do Lord Edmure. So speak plainly." That was the Northern lord with the black horse sigil again.

I pinned all the Northern lords with as firm a glance as I could. I'd had enough of this subject, it was time to move on. "I have answered you plainly my lords. House Tully is an ally of the North, nothing more. We recognize King Robb as the King in the North. You have made some worthy points Lord Bolton, but any further discussion will have to wait until I can talk to my nephew directly."

They didn't like that, but I had managed to strike a note of finality. And with the Riverlords behind me nodding, it was clear the subject was closed for now. Even Bolton seemed to accept that, or perhaps he was merely satisfied he had driven enough of a wedge between our forces.

"Now, that aside," I tied to steer the conversation back on track, "I suggest we focus on our next steps."

Bolton arched an eyebrow again. "Our next steps, Lord Edmure?"

I tried to portray a positive efficient front. It was time to get out of the weeds and get to the main point, why I'd stewed and waited all this time for Bolton and his Northern men to finally get here. "Yes, my lords. We've dealt the Lannisters harsh blows. At Harroway's Town and again at the Battle of the Camps. Harsh blows, but we've not finished them yet. Well, time to change that. Tywin has a head start on us…" I couldn't resist giving Bolton a glare, as this head start was his fault. "But, it is not insurmountable. He will have to go to ground somewhere. Between us, we will outnumber him. More than two to one even if the remnants of Jaime's host rejoin him. I say we run him to ground, and put an end to him once and for all."

There was a rumble of agreement at this, from both my own lords and the Northern lords. I felt my shoulders relaxing and a small smile coming across my face. It had been difficult, but it would be worth it to put an end to the Lannisters for once and for all.

Then Bolton raised a single finger, waiting until silence descended. "No."

There was uproar at that. Blackwood was on his feet yet again, anger lacing his voice. "What do you mean 'no' you bastard?"

Bracken was nodding his head alongside his rival. "What treachery is this? You would leave the Lannisters free to roam through our lands?"

Bolton murmured something in response, too low to hear over the noise. Finally, grudgingly, the noise subsided again and Bolton continued in his half whisper. "Your lands, lord Bracken. Not ours. Your Lord Edmure has made it very clear he does not intend to swear to King Robb. And so why would we follow his orders? To defend his lands? To free his castles?"

The Northerners seemed uncertain at that. I was losing them. Desperately I jumped in. "My lords. All else aside, the Lannisters are our mutual enemies. They have wronged the North and the Riverlands both. This is our chance to finish them."

Bolton was shaking his head. "If our king commands it of us, we will finish Tywin Lannister. But without his command, how can you expect us to engage in such a wild chase? Tywin has a week's march on you, perhaps more. We might not catch him until he is back to Casterly Rock. You would have us march so far from our King? On whose authority?"

Marq leaped to my defense, eyes blazing. "Edmure is Lord Paramount of the Trident! He defeated Tywin Lannister once, he will do it again. He would have already done it, if your forces hadn't been so slow to march!"

I hid a wince. Marq was right of course, and meant well, but well…

Amusement was glittering in Bolton's eyes. "Ahh. Ser Marq Piper was it? The Riverlord who got lost on a river? The knight who could not find the battlefield?" A northern lord let out a gruff laugh as Bolton pushed on. "A little rich to be lectured on timeliness by you, Ser Marq. As I hear it, but for your being so slow" a cruel emphasis on that word "Lord Tywin would already be a captive."

The Northern Lord behind Bolton let out a second laugh and chimed in. "I heard he got distracted by his own sigil. Saw that pretty lass and decided to chase his own banners instead of the enemy."

Marq's face was beat red. The fury radiating off him in waves, teeth gritted in anger. His hand was on his sword. Worst, my own lords weren't disagreeing. Poor Marq had been the butt of endless japes due to his late arrival, but even worse more than one of my lords had reacted with anger. I wasn't sure if it was luck or perception, but Bolton had given voice to the thoughts of many of my own men.

Stevron Frey gave a small cough. "My Lords. Ser Marq was indeed late," Frey gave a vicious smile as he emphasized that word. All of the Freys had taken great delight in Marq's situation. I gathered back in the day he had been one of the more vocal in making jokes about Stevron's father. "Still," Frey continued, "the past is the past. Lord Edmure is right we must focus on finishing the Lannisters while we can."

Bolton made a dismissive wave of his hand. "The Lannisters will be finished when and how his Grace commands. Lord Edmure though, has no such authority to command us. Your boy is a fool." His eyes were on Marq, but I knew the words were for me. "I would remind you Ser Marq, your Lord Edmure is not a Lord Paramount. Not unless you have had sad news of your father?" Those eyes turned towards me. The Riverlords around me were shifting uncomfortably as they were reminded by Marq's faux pas that I was not yet, in fact, their lord.

After the moment of silence stretched on, Bolton continued. "Well. No matter. Either way. Our loyalty is to the King in the North not some southern lordling. We would follow the Starks into your Seven Hells and beyond." God. I had to resist rolling my eyes as Bolton went on praising the Starks. The irony of it. But he had the Northern Lords murmuring their agreement.

"If King Robb orders us to follow your command, why of course we would follow without question. But he entrusted these Northern forces to me… not you Lord Edmure. I'm sure your plan is a fine one," Bolton's dismissive tone said otherwise, "there is nothing we would like to do more than kill Lannisters."

A rumble of agreement went up from the northerners as Bolton pressed on. "However, as I said. We follow King Robb, not yourself. What if our King means to return north? Strike at Kings Landing? Some other plan? It would be foolish of us to go gallivanting after you, Lord Edmure, when our king might need us elsewhere.

Damn it. I wanted to strangle this man. My plan made sense! We could have run Tywin to the ground. Why wouldn't they see sense? Desperately, I tried one last time. "Surely King Robb would approve of a plan to catch Tywin Lannister himself?"

Bolton scented victory. A ghost of a smile flashing across his face. "I'm sure King Robb has such a plan in place already. And our forces will aid him. You should feel free to ask him yourself. Or, if you are so confident in your plan, to march on your own?"

I gritted my teeth. I was tempted to do just that. But it was too risky. With the time-line wonky, I didn't have canon sources to fall back on, and I had no idea what Tywin was doing. With the Northern forces behind me, our numerical edge would have been enough to risk it. Without them? I feared the unknown and a Lannister surprise. What if the Tyrells joined them? Or if Tywin raised another army as in the books? What if, without the advantage of foreknowledge, Tywin simply outfought me? If the remnant's of Jaime's host rejoined them my numerical edge would be slight. The uncertainty made me hesitate.

Intellectually I knew I should act boldly… but I couldn't help but feel uncertain on what to do. I wanted more information, more men, more answers.

And truth be told, I'd look like a fool to march on Tywin on my own now. I had insisted we wait nearly two weeks for Bolton and his men to join us. If I left without them now, then I would look like an idiot for waiting to begin with and for letting Tywin slip away. Bolton had backed me into a corner and played me like a fiddle.

I sent him one last baleful glare, but the bastard appeared unmoving. It was time to end this farce. Grimly, I got to my feet, the Riverlords following my lead.

"Lord Bolton." I ground out his name. "My lords." I inclined my head to the Northerners behind him. "Thank you for making your position clear. Pray, feel free to refresh yourself before returning to your camp."

I turned on my heel, intent to walk out the door. A voice stopped me. The Northern Lord with the black horse sigil again. "And what will you do, Lord Edmure? Do you mean to march on Lord Tywin?"

I forced a grim smile on my face at that. "Why, I mean to follow Lord Bolton's excellent advice of course." There was confusion at that. So I pressed on, glaring into Bolton's pale eyes. "It appears that my nephew and I have much to discuss."

A/N: And that's the chapter! Wheh. All that politicking was exhausting to write! Hopefully more fun to read. And I hope I managed to realistically display how Bolton managed to defacto hurt the Starks by expressing loyalty to them. There was actually one further scene I had written for this chapter dealing with the disposition of Edmure's forces before he leave,s and some chit-chat about Baby Darry. However, this seemed like a much more 'fitting' and 'climactic' moment to end it on. So I think I will have that scene open the next chapter, and then do a little time skip to have Edmure travel to Robb.

I'm excited to write the next chapter, I've had the meeting and ripples from robb/edmure talking planned for a while. So hopefully I'll finish it soon? But experience has taught me to make no promises!