The Iron King and the Tully Daughter

BY : Inapplicable
Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire
Dragon prints: 21480
Disclaimer: I do not own a Song of Ice or Fire nor any of the characters written by George RR Martin. Nor do I make any monetary gain or profit from the writing of this story.

They met the dozen riders at the main gate, between Raventree Hall’s huge square towers, mud splattered up from their horse’s hooves. The castlefolk were gathering around to watch as the rider trotted under the oak gates. Annila saw Elrie take a few steps towards their leader, her slender arms crossed for warmth. Or was it in confrontation, Annila thought. She knew the enmity between Blackwood and Bracken went back hundreds of years. 

The brown Bracken banners hung listless against their staffs as a soft misty rain began to fall, Annila couldn’t see the red stallion or the gold shield of House Braken. The lord of Stone Hedge was riding a sorrel destrier that kicked and snapped fiercely at his bit. When Lothar climbed off his saddle, Annila saw it was wonderfully embroidered; with thick golden cloth under the fine brown leather saddle, the stirrups were forged of red steel, and the reins were red leather.

“My lord, please be welcome here, I am afraid my lady is off campaigning against the ironmen, yet I am sure she would’ve offered the hearth and salt of Raventree if she was pres-”, Maester Barrock said approaching Lothar Bracken.

“Yes”, Lothar cut off the maester’s words with a wave of a hand. “I’m sure me and mine are grateful for her ladyship’s hospitality. He turned to present his knights with a sweep of his hand, “I am certain Lady Agnes would want my true and leal knights to have suitable accommodations?”.

Lord Lothar Bracken had ridden with fifteen knights in escort, each in brown plate with their lord’s sigil engraved on their breastplates, and each one rode finely trained light bay coursers. The other men rode lesser mounts and were garbed in less wealthy silks and leathers, one of them looked especially uneasy on his grey rounsey.

“Yes, of course. However, you must understand the war ha-“, Barrock again attempted to answer, but Lothar did not give the old maester time to answer, instead he beckoned his daughter to come forward.

The girl that stepped forward had thick, soft chestnut hair, hung long and straight. She had slender shoulders and arms. The lady couldn’t have been past her twentieth name day, she surprisingly full-breasted and long-legged for a lady of her age. Annila thought she was small for her age.

“This is my firstborn and heir, Celia Bracken”, Lothar said.

Celia had smooth skin, so white it looked like she had just risen from a bath of milk. She had a pretty face with a small chin and delicate nose, her brown eyes did little to hide the contempt that curled her pouty red lips.

Lothar’s knights twisted their reins and spurred their mounts further into the outer ward. The last two riders were large men, grabbed in simple leather, Annila wrinkled her nose as the four trotted past, the stench of saltwater and fish clung to their clothes and bodies.

“My lord, have her perchance heard word from the Lord Tommen Tully or the Lady Anges Blackwood?”, her lord father’s master-at-arms asked, politely.

Lothar smiled wanly, “But first, who are these two young maidens, hmm?”. Utterly ignoring the question.

Ser Lurs Grell’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, yet he knew that he must always be respectful. “I, err. My lord, may I present the Lady Annila of Riverrun, daughter of Lord Tommen and the-“

“Oh yes. I remember the little lady Elrie”, Lothar grinned at her, his teeth were yellowed from wine.

The Blackwood girl was a lovely sight for certain. Despite how much Lothar might loath the Blackwoods, he could not deny the girl’s appealing figure. She had thick glossy hair that fell to the small of her back in a cascade of black curls. Her eyes were a deep brown, with a rebellious gleam barely hidden under the surface, almost like she was forbidden from showing it at her lady mother’s court. Elrie had a slender nose and high cheekbones, yet he ignored these features in favour for ones much more to his liking. Although her heavy scarlet cloak and black gown that the very tops of her full teardrop shaped breasts and her slender pale shoulders, Lothar saw her body was slim and slender as a girl of her age was, yet she still held a curvaceous figure.

Her breasts were smaller than her Tully friend, he guessed, the girl’s cloaks concealed much or their bodies, yet the way Annila’s chest push out the heavy brown wool confirmed his suspicions.

“Enough! What happened to my lady mother?! I-I demand an answer!”, Elrie all but shouted. Annila heard more mummering and agreements from Anges Blackwood’s household, and cautious glances from Maester Barrock and Lurs alike.

“Oh, demand it, do you?”, a thin high voice mocked. It was Celia Bracken who had spoken. A mocking simile curling the corners of her lips, while her sly brown eyes followed Elrie’s slender curves. Elrie glared fiercely at the Bracken girl.

Lord Lothar gave no answer himself, but instead turned to fiddle with his mount’s saddle bag. Annila saw that Elrie was growing even more frustrated. She must say something before her friend offended the lord’s honour. “Please, my lord, if you could provide us with any word of our families, we would be grateful. I-I understand in war that there are many false reports, yet I am sure my lord can help us”, Annila tried to sound as meek and courteous as possible, just like her Septa had taught her.

“Do you know much of war then, girl?”, Lothar’s voice was sharp, and it rang across the ward, he was still searching in his saddle bag.

“W-well no m-my lord, I just…”, Annila stuttered, warm pink colouring her cheeks in an attractive manner.

“No? then I’ll you a fine first lesson, never let your foe flank you. And never leave for castle unguarded. Mayhaps you could’ve told Lady Anges that”, Lothar said as she turned back to them, a letter crunched between his fingers.



You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story