| Sins of the Father | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 15 2008, 03:34 PM (122 Views) | |
| Athidoc | Jul 15 2008, 03:34 PM Post #1 |
Lord of Harrenhal
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Reven dismounted his steed, a brown courser he had owned since childhood, and handed its reins to an aide. "Welcome back, Sir Reven," said the youth, a dark-haired lad of about fourteen. Reven merely grunted and nodded slightly in reply. He had things on his mind. The pieces were all set. The townfolk were on his side. He had gone behind his father's back to secure them additional food and better clothing over the course of the winter, and come spring they loved him. The next step had been to befriend Harrenhal's army. When the old commander, Lord Vandelay's cousin, had fallen ill, Reven had volunteered to lead the army in his stead. He had brought along Grouthe as an adviser of sorts. When the old commander finally passed, Reven had been named his replacement, with Grouthe his second-in-command. This order had been issued by Lord Vandelay, against the wishes of the army, who considered Reven too young and inexperienced. Thus he had sought permission to march on Pinkmaiden, Harnvale, and High Hill. He wanted to prove himself, and, in his opinion, he had. They had lost relatively few men in the three battles, and had utterly routed the enemy. All that was left was to decide when to act. When to initiate his...succession. To obtain that which had long been denied him. He set off for the grand hall, to report his successes to Lord Vandelay. He was approaching the stair when he spotted a familiar figure. "Sir Reven," said Grouthe. "How did things go at Harnvale?" "Rather well," was the reply. "How went the fight at High Hill?" "It belongs to us now, if that is what you mean." "Casualties?" "Minimal, as you instructed. Though you didn't really need to ask that of me. It is always a priority to ensure as many of your men go home as possible." "Sometimes a sacrifice must be made, for the good of the whole." "Your father teach you that?" Reven narrowed his eyes, then smirked slightly. "In a manner of speaking, yes." Grouthe seemed confused. "Well," he continued, after a moment of silence, "I've just delivered my report to Lord Vandelay. Is that where you are headed?" "Indeed," said Reven, heading up the steps. He turned back to Grouthe and continued: "My father and I have much to discuss." Edited by Athidoc, Aug 25 2008, 07:57 AM.
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| Athidoc | Jul 19 2008, 07:32 PM Post #2 |
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Lord of Harrenhal
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Reven entered the Great Hall alone, finding it, quite peculiarly, empty. Save for, of course, the figure sitting across from him, on the black throne. Lord Howell Vandelay of Harrenhall. His father. "Welcome home, son," said the man. He was small, though plump. You wouldn't know it now, but he had been a warrior in his days of youth. Days that had long since passed and been forgotten. "I trust things went well?" he continued, before taking a sip of wine from the goblet in his left hand. "Indeed," answered Reven, "the rebellions are crushed." "Then the surrounding regions belong to us?" Us? thought Reven. As if you've done a thing to earn them. "Not quite," he said. "There are a few cities left that may pose a threat. Our new ally at Riverrun is taking one-" "And tomorrow, you will depart to claim the others," interrupted Lord Vandelay. "What? We have only just returned, the men need rest-" "Stalling only give more time for these rebellions to grow. Tomorrow." Reven sighed. The men would not be happy, which threw a hitch in Reven's plans. He had worked hard to gain their loyalty. He could not risk upsetting them with the pinnacle of his plans so close. He had to shift the blame elsewhere. "My Lord, if I may offer another suggestion. I have many affairs to take care of in Harrenhal. In my stead, Grouthe can lead the men to victory at-" "Grouthe is not the commander, nor do I trust him enough to act as one." That reply gave Reven pause. Lord Vandelay not trusting Grouthe? It made no sense. He had served at Harrenhal since before Reven's birth, since before Howell became Lord Vandelay. "Grouthe led our men to victory at High Heart, Lord-" "No. That is my final word." Reven stood silent, in thought. An idea came to him. "My Lord, our newfound ally is already in the area. Perhaps we could loan him troops to take these rebellious cities on our behalf. It would strengthen the alliance and allow me to carry out my...tasks." He said the last word quietly, eying Lord Vandelay cautiously. "Very well," he said at length, waving Reven away. "Now be off. I have other affairs to attend to." "So do I," muttered Reven maliciously. Now he could accelerate his plans. His succession was nigh, but there was much work to be done. Edited by Athidoc, Jul 27 2008, 08:57 AM.
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| Athidoc | Jul 27 2008, 10:25 AM Post #3 |
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Lord of Harrenhal
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Reven sat upon the wall, staring out at the God's Eye. Plans and ideas spun through his head. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to behold his vistor. It was Grouthe. "Any word from the west?" asked Reven. "Indeed," was the reply. "Our allies have taken Deep Den, and the rebels have Stoney Sept have been defeated." Reven nodded. "How went your meeting with Lord Vandelay?" Grouthe continued. "Well enough," muttered Reven, indicating that the opposite was true. He then summed up the discourse to Grouthe. Then they were silent, both of them merely staring out at the setting sun, and its reflection upon the lake. "Why does my father mistrust you?" asked Reven, after a time. Grouthe did not immediately reply, instead closing his eyes for a moment in thought. Then, at last, he spoke: "I tried to kill him." Reven sat, dumbstruck by the statement. Grouthe, faithful servant? Or attempted assassin? He tried to stammer a reply. "B-but...wha-...why?" "It was before you were born. A few months before, in fact. Though I suppose it began long before that. Your father...he had a younger brother, who evied his position as heir, ultimately attempting to kill him. Lord Vandelay...did not want this for his son. He would have killed you in the womb just to make sure you didn't harm Lewell." "What?!" exclaimed Reven. He stuttered in trying to reply. Grouthe continued, "I could not let this happen. He would harm an unborn child, out of his own deluded will..." Grouthe clenched his fist tightly. "At the time I had the job of preparing his meals. I poisoned him, but the dosage...your father recovered. And he knew it was an attempt on his life. He suspected...no, he knew it was me. Yet he lacked proof. I was reassigned to become caretaker, so I could never try again. The poison had him bedridden, however, past the point of your birth. He abandoned his plan of killing you...but still he mistrusts you. He even partially blames you for Lewell's disappearance. That is why he denies you claim to Harrenhal." Reven was silent for a moment, then he spoke quietly. "My father is wrong. I would never harm my brother. It is another that I intend to harm." Reven paused, climbing to his feet. "I'm going to kill him, Grouthe." "I suspected as much," came the reply. "I'm not going to tell you he doesn't deserve it, I wish only that, for a moment, you consider an alternative. I ultimately convinced your mother to leave Harrenhal. That is what I should have done to begin with, rather than trying to kill Lord Vandelay. Is there no other route you can see out of this situation?" Reven thought of other plans he had considered, but his anger at the story Grouthe had just told kept rising to the front of his mind. "No. He must die." Grouthe nodded, extending his hand as if to offer a handshake. When Reven took his friend's hand, however, he felt a small vial in Grouthe's hand. "Walking in to the Great Hall, sword drawn, is not the way to go. This is," he indicated the vial. "There will be no errors in dosage this time, I assure you. Your father loves his wine...I will handle the rest of the matters. I will take the army the west, including your father's personal guard. With me gone, he will feel much more secure. The smallfolk will suspect nothing. All will go as planned." Reven stood in shock. He had known Grouthe to be more than he seemed, but this... Grouthe clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Lord Vandelay." |
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| Athidoc | Aug 9 2008, 08:36 PM Post #4 |
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Lord of Harrenhal
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He uncorked the vial. Watched the viscous liquid drain into the goblet of wine. It mixed, becoming invisible in seconds. He was ready. Reven had waited several days to carry out his plan, during which he had studied up on the poison Grouthe had given him. The man apparently knew his toxins. It was perfect. Unseen, undetectable, untraceable. And always deadly. Then news had come from the west. Grouthe had taken the Rock, and other cities besides. Their secret war was preceding well. And the harvest had come in, the most bountiful in years. The entire city was in high spirits, even, surprisingly, Lord Vandelay. In a jovial mood, his guard would be down. The time was right. Reven pushed open the doors to the great hall. It was empty once again, save for the ever-present Lord of Harrenhal. His father looked at him, saying no word of greeting. Reven returned the glance, then strode forward. "Bennel is sickly," he spoke when he came near, referring to Grouthe's replacement as head housekeeper. "Thus I have brought you your wine in his stead." Slowly, he held out the glass towards Lord Vandelay, who maintained the stare, still not speaking. After a moment, which, to Reven, felt like a day, he took the glass. "A toast," said Reven, "To the fine harvest." Another moment of silence. "Not much of a toast with only one glass," said Lord Vandelay at last. Damn, thought Reven. It cannot end like this! "Ah, well, yes, there is that..." he stuttered. Fumbling, he pulled out his flask of water. "I'm not one to drink so early in the day. So, wine for the Lord, and water for the servant." He held out the flask, waiting for his father to accept the toast. For a moment, he did not; instead simply maintaining that wretched gaze. Drink it, bastard! The silence stretched on for what felt like hours, until, finally. "Of course," replied Lord Vandelay, laughing. He drained the glass in a single gulp. Reven nearly leaped with relief. "To the fine harvest," continued Lord Vandelay. "Yes," said Reven. "And to our victories in the West." Lord Vandelay nodded, then looked up suddenly. "What? What victories? I did not order-" His sentence was cut off by a loud cough. "No, you did not order an attack," said Reven maliciously. "I did." "By what-" he coughed again- "Right?!?" "Why, my right as Lord of Harrenhal." "You are not"-another cough, more violent than the others, "Lord!" "Oh, not for another thirty seconds or so." "What did you-" This time the cough brought blood. "-DO?!?" "I have taken what was mine by rights. What you refused to acknowledge as mine. So, father..." He lifted the flask once more. "To the fine harvest." "Bastard!" More coughing, more blood. "To the victories in the west." "Damn you!" Vomit this time. "To a new Lord of Harrenhall." No words this time, only one final, gasping, cough. "To a the dawn of a new era." Howell fell forward, off his throne, and onto the floor, in a crumpled, pitiful heap at Reven's feet. Reven drained the flask, then kicked his father's corpse out of the way. He took his seat, his place, on the throne. It felt just as good as he'd imagined. Edited by Athidoc, Sep 30 2008, 07:38 AM.
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