The Shadow Lord

[EDWEN]

The Great Hall hadn't been this packed in years, at least not as far back as Edwen could remember. Not even his father's fiftieth name day had drawn such a crowd. There were houses from all over Westeros represented at the long tables stretched across the smoke-filled room, but not a single house was of any major importance. There were the Forresters who lived less than a two-day ride to the east in the Wolfswood where they cut down the massive ironwood trees and crafted quality shields and other items for the Crown, they were vassals of House Glover. There were the Bellistars, a house that Edwen and his family had little love for but had invited to the wedding out of courtesy to the Rathmores, who had some connection to them that they hadn't really elaborated on. There were the Rathmores themselves, and many houses that Edwen had never heard of. There were the Carwyns, the Ellkes and the Darres each one from the South and related to the Rathmores through marriage in one way or another.

There were so many names that he had given up trying to remember them all. Most of the people here didn't really care about the wedding at all, no some were here to eat and drink like the fake kings and queens they pretended to be, others just wanted to get close to his father for the elevation in stature. Edwen had started his day by scaring off a few undesirable suitors who had cornered his young sister and asking her if she had been married off yet. Before it had even been past noon he had threatened or intimidated at least a half dozen more already drunken men from doing the same thing. He'd had other things on his mind and other things to do, but no one seemed to be looking out for Renna not even his younger brother Wyllam. No, Wyllam was preoccupied with the bastard daughter of Lord Rathmore. Edwen had been trying to keep an eye on them throughout the day, but with so many people in the keep it had been a difficult task. He had lost site of them both during the wedding ceremony, which in itself had been nothing more than a formality.

He had seen it in his bride's eyes. The pledges and commitments they had sworn to each other in front of the Seven and all the people in Ravenhold had been empty promises. Their marriage was one made out of business not out of love. Even the kiss they had shared had been dull and lifeless. Now they sat at the High Table at the front of the room, they hadn't even looked at each other but instead downed glasses of sweet summerwine and ate their fill of roasted boar. He decided to try and break the silence and looked over at his bride. Alessa looked truly beautiful, there wasn't a man in the Realm who would have said the opposite. She was wearing a silk dress in the colors of House Rathmore, a deep reddish-purple trimmed with black. Her dark-red hair fell down bellow her shoulders instead of the two tight braids she normally wore. In her ears were two garnet stones that had been given to her by his mother, who was of House Redwyn descent though she had little contact with her old house. Around her throat Alessa wore a choker made of lace the same color as her dress and on her head sat a glistening silver circlet encrusted with rubies.

His garb wasn't as jewel encrusted as hers, it was simple but nonetheless handsome. He was wearing a fine wool tunic and breeches topped by a long cloak made of expensive shadowcat fur, all of it clad in the colors of House Grayer: a dark charcoal trimmed with a lighter gray. His large forearms were clad in dark leather bracers, emblazoned with the roaring shadowcat of House Grayer, that had belonged to his grandfather and passed to his father and then down to him. As old as they were they showed little of the age they boasted. His feet were secured in fine leather boots that were the most uncomfortable thing he had ever worn but his father had insisted he wear them. He had refused to shave the stubble on his face however, much to his mother's dislike. Though he did concede to having his hair trimmed so it no longer fell beneath his ears. His head felt lighter without the extra hair and colder, but he had to admit he liked the shorter look better.

"Quite a turnout." he said to his bride

She responded with a noncommittal grunt as she took another swallow of summerwine from her cup. "None of them are here for us." she said with an angry scowl at the room, angry at the men who were trying to do to their daughters what her father had done to her.

"No, they aren't." Edwen said flatly as he refilled his cup with a pleasing vintage of strongwine. The dancing and partying and laughter of their guests went on for hours after the ceremony, the Great Hall had become so thick with smoke that his eyes were beginning to sting. Someone opened the large doors of the hall and everyone in the room seemed to move as one into the courtyard outside, the minstrels and bards leading the way. Edwen didn't move from his spot and neither did Alessa.

"My Lord Edwen." A voice said from beside him.

"Yes Maester Alren?" Edwen said without looking. The man's crackling voice and the clinking of the chain of his order gave him away easily, even in the noise overcoming the Great Hall.

"My lord, neither you nor your bride have taken part in the festivities save for the first dance. It would look odd if you didn't join in before the night is over."

"These fools are too drunk to notice whether or not we dance around amongst them." Alessa said, the amount of wine she had downed had barely seemed to affect her at all.

Edwen sighed. He knew if he didn't dance at least for a few minutes with his new bride that the maester would be hovering by him for the rest of the night.

"Alessa, a few dances won't hurt." He said to his wife. She scowled at him as she took in some more wine. "If you dance with me, I promise you won't hear another word from me the rest of the night."

Alessa sighed heavily and finished her wine and then stood up. Edwen extended his hand to her and she grabbed hold of it, a lot tighter than she needed to. Members of the crowd began to cheer and the sea of people parted as they descended from the High Table and down through the hall. The cold North summer wind blew through the large open doors sending an unearthly chill through his body. Still it hadn't stopped the lesser lords and ladies from dancing into the night and it wasn't about to stop him. When they finally made it out into the courtyard the bards and minstrels had finished one song and upon seeing the newly married couple began to play a slow ballad played often in the courts of the South.

He heard Alessa curse. All the couples in the courtyard slowed down and embraced each other, dancing in slow circles. Edwen laughed, "You knew we were going to have to get close tonight at some point right?"

"I was hoping it would only be for the one time and then I could roll over and go to sleep and pray to the Gods that this is all just a bad dream." She said sourly as she turned to face him and draped her arms around his neck.

He smiled at her and put his hands on her hips and they both fell into the rhythm of the music, dancing in slow circles. Her body felt good against his, she kept herself in remarkably great shape. He could feel the muscles under her silk dress. Outside in the cold open air he could actually smell the perfume the handmaidens had doused her with. It was a vaguely spicy scent mixed with wildflowers that grew on the hillsides outside of Ravenhold. She shivered against the cold wind and reluctantly pressed herself closer to him to take advantage of the warmth provided by his shadowcat cloak. Edwen couldn't help but laugh and the look that came over her face was a fury colder than any North wind he had ever felt. She looked away from him and pressed her face to his chest and the furred trim of the shadowcat cloak.

For what felt like forever they danced liked that and Edwen was able to pretend that the woman pressed against him was actually in love with him. He had certainly cared about her. Ever since the day she had been sent to foster with his House and serve as his mothers ward as a young child of eight years old. When she wasn't spending her time serving his mother Alessa had been expected to spend all of her time with him, to get to know who her future husband would be. Back then she had actually liked him and they had been best friends. Things changed though, she returned to her home in Goldspire when she was eighteen due to a falling out between his father and hers and it seemed like the marriage would be called off. For a few years things were left up in the air until Lord Rathmore had approached his father again seeking to marry his eldest daughter to the eldest son of House Grayer. A deal was made and Alessa returned to Ravenhold as a twenty-three year old woman that had stolen the breath from him.

At first she had been happy to see him, but for some reason she slowly soured and eventually just stopped talking to him. The only communication that they had before the wedding was during the planning sessions when his input had been needed on something. Tonight had been the first real conversation he'd had with her since her arrival in Ravenhold. The music came to a stop and the people in the crowd clapped and laughed for the minstrels and bards. Edwen let go of Alessa and as she pulled away he could have sworn he had seen a smile on her face, but it was gone almost immediately. Something had caught her eye behind him. He turned and looked and saw a group of Bellistar men sitting around a large flagon of wine and laughing.

"That bastard girl of Rathmore's sure can dance can't she boys!" one of the men was saying.

"Aye, probably gets those moved from her whore of a mother." another one said.

Laughter roiled up amongst the group of men and Alessa's eyes narrowed almost to slits. Edwen grabbed her by the wrist and shook his head. "They're nothing more than drunken pigs, they aren't worth the waste of breath."

"If they were saying that about your sister, you'd be on your way over there right now!" she hissed at him. Alessa was probably the only person besides Wyllam who didn't see Chelsie as a bastard. She didn't care who her little sister's mother had been. During her fostering at Ravenhold Alessa had wrote almost exclusively to Chelsie on a daily basis. Alessa was right, if the Bellistars had been talking about Renna like that he would have gone over there. "But you don't care what they say about my sister because she's a bastard!"

She tried to push past him but he pulled her back. "Don't do anything stupid." Edwen said more calmly than he felt.

A smile actually formed across her face. "Doesn't look like I'll have to."

Edwen stood there for a few moments confused. Dawning hit him like a stone in the back of the head and he wheeled around. A man a head taller than anyone else in the crowd was heading towards the Bellistar men. His long brown hair and dark robes were easy to identify.

"Wyllam." Edwen growled. He shot off to intercept his younger but larger brother before he did something that would end up with his head on a pike. The Bellistar men saw Wyllam approaching and stood up from their seated positions around the flagon, preparing for a fight. Edwen got to the Bellistars the same moment that Wyllam did and he had to physically place himself between his brother and the drunken guests. "Wyllam stop!" he yelled putting his hand out and giving his brother a shove in the opposite direction.

Wyllam slapped his arm out of the way and pointed at the Bellistars. "I'm not going to let them just sit there and talk about Chelsie like that!"

"Yes you will!" Edwen growled, "Father will not stand for you getting into a fight over a bastard."

"I. Don't. Care." Wyllam hissed.

"Listen to me!" Edwen said. "If you start something with the Bellistars over Chelsie Snow, father will not help you. I won't be able to help you."

"Yeah you better listen to your brother there Grayer, unless you want to lose your head." one of the Bellistars yelled. "She's just a bastard, nothing more than a piece of ass to warm the bed in the night."

Wyllam snarled and Edwen cursed. Wyllam moved towards the Bellistars and Edwen did the only thing he could do. He threw a particularly vicious right hook that caught his brother in the left eye socket. The punch was hard enough that it actually floored Wyllam. Edwen stood over his younger brother and looked down at him sternly. "Go back to the keep."

A crowd had gathered around them, near the front stood both Alessa and Chelsie who both looked rather shocked. He stared at Chelsie for a few seconds, just long enough to let her know who he felt was responsible for this. Wyllam spit a thick glob of blood and saliva into the dirt and looked up at his older brother. Edwen was no small man, taller than most and well muscled, but Wyllam was a head taller and significantly stronger, but in that moment Edwen looked very much like the lord he was to become.

The look of anger and betrayal on his siblings face hurt Edwen but he didn't let it show as Wyllam got to his feet and turned away and walked back to the Great Hall. The Bellistars began laughing, harsh cackling sounds the cut into Edwen's ears like burning knives.

"It makes sense you know," one of the Bellistars said. "The bigger the man, the bigger the coward."

The laughter increased and before he knew what he was doing Edwen knocked the man flat on the ground, knocking him out could. The Bellistars all quieted down and looked at their unconscious friend in disbelief and then back at Edwen. The anger on their faces was plain to see but as they threw down their wine cups and advanced on him the knights of Ravenhold appeared behind their future lord, swords drawn and at their sides.

"Bastard though she may be," Edwen said advancing on the Bellistars. "Chelsie Snow is the sister of my bride. Insulting her is to insult me. You did insult me by insulting my brother. You'd be wise to not do it again." His voice was low and menacing but the Bellistar men were having none of it.

"What is going on here?!" A man yelled as he forced his way through the crowd of people. He looked down at the unconscious Bellistar man and then at the drunken Bellistars and then to Edwen and his knights.

"Your men are misbehaving Rowan." Edwen said to the Second-born son of the Lord of House Bellistar. "We welcome you into our Hall and let you drink our wine and this is how you repay us?"

"It looks like my man got he poorer treatment." Rowan Bellistar said. He was a stern looking man and a few years younger than Edwen. His dirty-blonde hair was slicked back behind his head. His long royal blue cloak was pulled tightly around his shoulders against the cold winds. "But then again, you Grayers have always treated my house like a pile of horseshit."

"I let you come here as a courtesy to my bride's house, and to let you see your little brother." Edwen said.

"How kind of you considering it is your fault that one my brothers is dead and the other held hostage." Rowan growled.

"Arron killed one of our men, it was his life or hundreds more if our houses had gone to war." Edwen said. "Giving Fredryc to us as a ward was the best outcome for your house."

"We had no say in the matter, Lord Stark said we had to just after cutting my brother's head from his shoulders."

Edwen shook his head. "I will hear no more of this on my wedding day, Ser Jafer see to it that House Bellistar is seen off our lands."

"Aye m'lord." Jafer Morlend, Captain of the Guard, said as he and his knights stepped forward. The Bellistars collected their unconscious friend and Ser Jafer and his knights escorted them out of the courtyard. The crowd parted behind Edwen as his father and mother came wandering out into the crowd.

"What was all this about?" Ryden asked looking on as his knights ushered out the Bellistars.

"Just Bellistars being Bellistars," Edwen said without looking at his father and keeping his eyes on the departing group. "I took care of it."

"I can see that, but what did they do?" Ryden said.

Edwen turned to his father. "They had too much wine and started harassing our other guests."

Ryden nodded. "Damn it, I told Rathmore I didn't want those fucking miscreants here at the wedding. Figures they'd be the ones to start something."

Edwen clapped his father on the shoulder and turned to look at the group of minstrels and bards. "Continue," He looked back at the crowd. "There's plenty of wine left, and I've never known a true man of the North to leave a flagon full!"

The crowd roared and the music commenced again and Edwen headed back towards the Great Hall, having had his fill of dancing and music. Almost everyone had left the hall and moved out into the courtyard to continue celebrating. The only people left inside were the cooks and squires who were already beginning to clean the mess. One of them was standing near the glass windows that looked out into the courtyard. His dirty-blonde hair and sharp features might as well have been the same as a brand burned into his skin. Fredryc Bellistar watched as Jafer Morlend herded his family outside the Ravenhold gates, his face set in a look of true despair. Edwen often felt for the poor boy, he was hardly fifteen and had already spent five of those years behind the walls of Ravenhold, essentially being held hostage as a ward to the Grayer family. It was a punishment that had been handed down by Lord Eddard Stark after the eldest of Lord Trevyr Bellistar's sons, Arron Bellistar, had killed a Grayer guardsman in one of the smallfolk villages just outside the Wolfswood.

Arron had claimed it was self-defense, that the Grayer guard had attacked him first but Edwen's father hadn't believed it for a second. Knowing the bloody history between the two Houses Lord Stark had intervened to prevent a war. He had heard the stories from the smallfolk in the village and the other Grayer guardsmen as well as the Bellistar soldiers who'd been there. He'd asked why the Bellistars had entered the holdings of House Grayer and the Bellistar soldiers had said they were going to do some hunting in the Wolfswood and that they had been waylaid by the Grayer guards. The smallfolk had said this wasn't true and that the Bellistars had shown up and started causing trouble, chasing around the women and damaging some of the village structures. Grayer guards had arrived from one of the nearby goldmines to put and end to it. The smallfolk had told Lord Stark that the Grayer guards had gone out of their way to try to reach a peaceful resolution but that Arron Bellistar wouldn't have one and killed the nearest Grayer soldier.

Killing a man meant facing the King's Justice and meeting the ancient Valyrian blade wielded by Lord Stark. Riding to Blackpoint, the isolated keep of House Bellistar on the northern coast, Edwen and his father along with Lord Stark and members of his house, had demanded that Trevyr Bellistar hand over his eldest son or have him taken by force. With swords from House Stark and House Grayer outside his gates, Trevyr Bellistar had little choice but to do as he was told. Later that afternoon the Valyrian Greatsword named Ice effortlessly cleaved Arron Bellistar's head from his shoulders. A death for a death. Lord Stark had then ordered Trevyr to turn over his ten year old son to Lord Grayer as additional punishment.

Edwen still remembered Fredryc's mother screaming as the combined forces of House Stark and House Grayer departed Blackpoint and made for their respective holdings. Fredryc had been placed on Edwen's horse and had been given very little in the way of warm clothing to wear on the long, cold ride back to Ravenhold. He would never forget how small Fredryc had seemed at ten years old shivering and sobbing in the cold wind. Edwen had decided to take pity on him and had wrapped him up in his shadowcat cloak. Ever since then he'd always tried to look out for the boy, after all he hadn't done anything wrong. Edweb was the only one though. His father and mother had always treated him like a slave, often yelling at him and hitting him if he didn't do something they wanted the way the wanted or if he didn't do it quick enough. Bastards from the villages received better treatment from his parents that Fredryc did.

Seeing Fredryc watch his older brother leave reminded him of the day they had taken him from Blackpoint. Edwen knew that he had to talk to Wyllam and try to stop whatever kind of brush fire that may have started there, but his soft spot for Fredryc also told him that he needed to talk to the young ward. Edwen walked over the the windows and stopped a few paces short of Fredryc.

"How are you holding up?"

Fredryc looked down at his feet. "As well as you'd expect for someone who hasn't spoken to any of his family in years and then has to watch as they are thrown out before getting to see them."

Edwen furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Grayer told me to remain in the kitchens and aid the cooks with the feast." Fredryc said looking back out the window. "He said he didn't want me anywhere near the Bellistar delegation. Apparently he was under the presumption I would have conspired with my brother to hurt your house."

"I'm sorry." Edwen said truthfully. "You should have come to me, I might have been able to help you."

Fredryc turned around and smiled at Edwen. "I know you would have Edwen, but your father would have been angry that you went against his direct orders. I won't have you getting punished for me."

"I'm not some young stable boy Fredryc, I can stand up to my father."

"I can't." Fredryc said flatly. "Any punishment he'd have in store for you would be a thousand times worse for me."

It was true. The last time someone had angered his father he had punished Fredryc for it, twenty-five lashes for something he hadn't even been responsible for doing.

"I'll speak to my father, try to get him to ease up on you."

"I'd appreciate that," Fredryc smiled. "But your brother isn't going to be helping me any with the way he's carrying on."

"Right, which way did he go?"

"To the kitchens, the Rathmore bastard was right behind him."

Edwen groaned. "Does he have any sense in that thick skull of his?"

Fredryc shrugged. "He was in a foul mood, the Rathmore girl was trying to tend to a cut above his eye but he wouldn't let her touch him. He grabbed a wine goblet and smashed it on the floor. He had some choice words to say particularly about you Edwen."

"I'm sure he did." Edwen sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. "Come on, help me find the wounded beast."

"Do I have the ability to say no?" Fredryc asked with a smile.

Edwen grabbed the boy playfully by the neck. "You can always tell me no Fredryc, just as long as you do what I tell you when it counts."

Fredryc laughed. "If that's the case I guess I'll come along, I don't really have anything else to do unless Lord Grayer has need of me."

"Then lets get you out of sight before he finds you." Edwen said steering the ward away from the window and towards the kitchens.

Wyllam wasn't any fonder of Fredryc than anyone else in Ravenhold and being just a boy of fifteen years he wouldn't be able to do much if things came to blows between Wyllam and himself. The only reason Edwen was bringing him along was to keep the boy away from his father. There was no doubt that after the dust up with the Bellistars that Ryden would look to make Fredryc pay for his house's poor manners. The boy already had enough scars from false accusations and wrongful punishments. The two of them proceeded to the back of the Great Hall and passed through the large ironwood doors that lead into the kitchens. The cooks and squires seemed to have vacated the area, most likely at Wyllam's command. He was sitting at a small table at the back of the kitchens with a tankard of black beer in his hands while Chelsie sat on the bench beside him dabbing at his eye with cloth. Edwen huffed and removed his shadowcat cloak. It was an expensive item and not easily replaced. He handed it to Fredryc.

"Do me a favor and hold this, you can wear it if you like." Edwen said. He knew Fredryc was very fond of the cloak. It had kept him warm on the long journey from Blackpoint to Ravenhold as a boy. He took the cloak and folded it in his arms and stood back as Edwen approached his brother. Chelsie saw him approaching and sat up straighter and fixed him with the same cold stare that Alessa constantly gave him when she thought he wasn't looking.

"What more do you want?" She called at him.

"To check on my brother." Edwen said without stopping. "I didn't want to do what I did, hurting you was the last thing I intended."

Wyllam looked up. His eye was already blackened and blood was spilling out steadily from a crescent shaped cut in his left eyebrow. Edwen inhaled as he took in the damage he had caused his brother.

"Don't worry about my face, its the least of my worries." He said darkly.

Edwen blinked at him a few times and Chelsie decided to fill the silence. "You humiliated him! In front of all of those people. In front of the guardsmen he is supposed to lead."

"What I did was for his own good." Edwen shot back fixing Chelsie with an equally cold stare. "Assaulting one of the Bellistars for insulting you would have started something neither house needs right now. Trevyr Bellistar is already looking for a reason to march on us and reclaim Fredryc as it is."

"The Bellistars were in the wrong." Wyllam hissed. "We almost went to war with them five years ago, we both know it is going to happen sooner or later."

"That was different they killed one of us! Going to war over what was said about a bastard is a stupid reason to waste the lives of hundreds of men." Edwen shouted at his brother. He looked at Chelsie. "Do you want that? Do you want the men of my keep to march on Blackpoint? Do you want not only those few thousand men to risk their lives, but for Wyllam to risk his too?" Chelsie began to look uncertain and Edwen pushed on. "You'd have two armies gutting each other, men widowing wives and children losing fathers just because your honor was insulted. Maybe if you were the Queen of the Realm I could understand that, I would march my armies on any keep you wished because it is my sworn duty. But you are not queen, you aren't even a lady. You're the bastard of a lord who can't keep his cock in his pants. You are not worth the lives of my men, you are not worth the life of my brother and you are definitely not worth my life."

Wyllam's eyes were blazing with anger but he hadn't moved from the bench beside the table. Maybe he found some sense in the harsh words Edwen had thrown at Chelsie. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face but she wasn't sobbing as she stood up from the table. Edwen saw it coming but couldn't move quick enough to avoid the slender fist that collided with the side of his face. He was shocked more than anything else that she had struck him, she didn't run or anything afterwards either. She stood there in front of him all defiance and anger waiting for him to make the next move. Wyllam sprung to his feet as well and had placed himself between her and Edwen. All Edwen could do was laugh. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and it came away with a smeared trail of blood.

"Chelsie!" a stunned cry echoed throughout the kitchens. Alessa came rushing forwards with Fredryc a few paces behind her. "What are you doing!"

"He deserved it." Chelsie said sheepishly. The only person she seemed to fear was her half-sister, and rightly so. "You didn't hear what he said to me."

"I did." Alessa said inspecting the cut on Edwen's bottom lip. He knew that her concern wasn't for his own well being but for her sister's. "And he is right, going to war for your honor isn't worth the cost in lives. Edwen dealt with the Bellistars and no lives will be lost. Though you clearly you have no interest in keeping your own, you struck the heir of Ravenhold. Do you understand what could happen? Lord Ryden already dislikes you as it is."

"He won't touch me, our father wouldn't let him."

"Our father only cares about what's best for the house, having a Highborn lord looking unfavorably on him isn't what's best for the house. He will hang you out to dry and leave you at the mercy of the Lord of Ravenhold." Alessa said.

"I won't let him touch her." Wyllam said grabbing Chelsie's hand.

Edwen put his hands on his hips. The frustration was building inside him, there was no way they would ever be married as long as his father was the lord of Ravenhold. But they were both clearly set on going against his wishes. "Fine, you do what you want. I will do what I can to keep father unaware, but he isn't a fool. You need to keep to your daily duties Wyllam."

Wyllam nodded his head. "I can do that."

It would only be for a few more days at the least. The Rathmore delegation would be leaving at the end of the week and Chelsie Snow would be on her way back to Goldspire. Hopefully after that things would somewhat return to normal.

"You better." Edwen said. He turned and walked towards the ironwood doors to the Great Hall. Alessa and Fredryc were right beside him.

"Edwen, Lord Ryden and Lady Nataleya are in the Great Hall waiting for you." Fredryc said as he handed Edwen back his cloak and helped him fasten it around his shoulders.

"Shit." He sighed. "Think you can put on one of your best fake smiles and act like things are perfectly fine?" he asked Alessa.

"I don't really have much of a choice." She said inhaling deeply. She grabbed his hand with hers and laid her head on his shoulder putting on a smile that would convince anyone she was truly in love.

Edwen rolled his eyes as he walked forward with his loving bride and threw open the ironwood doors. Sure enough his mother and father were standing near the High Table at the front of the room beaming proudly at their firstborn and his new bride. They walked over to the lord and lady of the house with Fredryc trailing a few paces behind them. Edwen's father scowled at the boy.

"Be gone, Bellistar. Your kind has already caused enough problems tonight."

Fredryc bowed deeply and turned to leave but Edwen grabbed him by the arm.

"He can stay, father. He isn't any trouble."

Ryden snorted. "He's a Bellistar, that's all they are."

Edwen fixed his father with a stern gaze but nodded at Fredryc. The boy gave him a grateful look before departing as ordered. Ryden clapped his hands together and cleared his throat.

"Right, now that the urchin is gone we can get underway."

"Underway with what?" Edwen asked as he pulled his hand away from Alessa.

Ryden reached under his cloak and pulled out a large scabbard. "Every true lord of a house has to have a sword that is every bit his equal. Shadow Guard has served the lords of this house since it was forged in old Valyria long ago. The day you can lay claim to Shadow Guard is long off, hopefully, but today you will claim a blade built in your own image." Ryden presented the longsword scabbard to Edwen who took it with steady hands.

Gripping the blade tightly he pulled the longsword free. The light of the Great Hall danced off the steel blade with blinding radiance. It felt right in his hands, not too heavy but not too light. The ornate onyx and silver bands in the cross-guards were expertly crafted. There wasn't a single flaw that Edwen's expert eyes could see. His father's smile was so wide it threatened to tear his face in two.

"I give you Grayfang! The finest blade to be made in the Cold Forges since their creation during the reign of the King in the North a thousand years ago." Ryden said proudly. "This sword will serve you until the time comes to claim the Lord's Chair and take ownership of Shadow Guard."

Edwen knew just how much it must have cost to have this sword built. No one in the North could have commissioned such a weapon, most people in the South couldn't either. He resheathed the sword and embraced his father warmly. It was a truly handsome gift, the kind you presented to a king not your son.

"Thank you father, I shall cherish it."

Ryden clapped his son on the face. "I know you will." He looked over his son's shoulder at Alessa who was standing patiently with her hands meshed in front of her. "Well, I guess I won't keep you any longer on your wedding night. I'm sure you've got more pressing matters to attend to."

Ryden turned and wrapped an arm around his smiling wife and left the Great Hall. Edwen was admiring the craftsmanship of the scabbard of his new sword. Alessa stepped forward and examined the gift his parents had given him.

"You get one of the most expensive swords in the Seven Kingdoms as a wedding gift from your parents and all they give me is you. They don't like me very much do they?"

Edwen let out a genuine laugh and looked at her. "Look I know we have problems, but lets try to end tonight on a good note okay?"

Alessa nodded. "I don't know about you but I'm ready for bed."

"As you wish...Lady Grayer." Edwen scooped her up and tossed her over one shoulder as easily as a sack of fruit. Against her will he carried her up the stairs that sat just outside the hall and up to his chambers to make the wedding completely official.