Brandon I
I still remember standing there, on the shores of the mighty Trident, watching my father place his crown at Aegon’s feet, pledging his loyalty to the incestuous bastard. I couldn’t bear to stand there and do nothing, so I left. My brothers and I began the long trip back North before my father picked himself up out of the dirt. Uncle says he looked for us afterwards, to explain. I had no need. My brothers and I went on a hunt, to get away from the world, we were only so naïve. When we came back we heard that our sister was to be married off to some Southron lord. My father had spit in the face of everything we believed in. The King Who Knelt they called him, mocked him, my father, the man who surrendered the North to the Valyrian invaders. What would the world be like if our forefathers had done the same to the Andals, how will our descendants look back at us, with contempt? Will they wonder what they could have had, what we did have, until my father threw it away? To spare lives he said, how many more Northerners will have to die being dragged into Southron wars now that he bent the knee? How am I to look him in the eye and see my father, not a craven, or a coward, who would rather run back North a lesser man, than to fight and die for his freedom, but my father. My father, the man who raised me to be proud of who we are, to be ruthless in attaining what is ours, who gave up what was ours.
He came to me for the first time in a long time, after laying down his crown, and marrying off his daughter to the lord of the Vale Ronnel Arryn,finally he had the time for his first born son and heir. Not that I would be bothered, it seems I had hardly known the man in all the time I had called him my father.
“Brandon, you must understand why I did it? You are not so proud that you refuse to see it.” He had not spoken to me in months, yet when he does he wishes to lecture me. His eyes were soft and his face seemed drained of life. He had forgotten how to live yet he would talk to me of saving lives. What life is it to be some dog to the Conqueror?
“Father, do you have no memory of when I was young? You talked to me of duty, to the realm, the people in it, and to family. You had me believe the North was ours. Not just for House Stark, but every man of Northern blood. Does your King have northern blood? Does he claim kinship to the ancient first men that used to rule over this continent?”
“Has your memory already begun to fade Brandon, or do you choose to forget that your duty will include keeping your people safe?”
“Of course not, but what of our descendants? Do their lives have less meaning? How many wars will they be dragged into?”
“We experience for freedom than the other kingdoms, we are secluded from them. Had I fought that may not be the case.” He would not falter in his beliefs, arguing would get us nowhere as I would not falter in mine.
“Why did you really come to speak with me? You know my position, there must be something more.”
“No, I have other reasons to come here today,” His face gave no suggestion as to what he was going to tell me. His mouth was even and his eyes never faltered, “I have come here to give you command of Moat Cailin, learn to rule, learn to defend, learn to be just and fair, when my last night passes, you must be ready to take my place. You are young, and naïve Brandon, you have much to learn.”
“You honor me father.” Commanding moat Cailin was a prestigious position, it was the best defense the North had from Southron armies. I nodded at him, yes, I will be ready, but not for what he wants me to be. I will learn what he wants, but also how best to lead my troops, how to most efficiently lay siege to a castle. I will learn how to win our independence. If the North is not a free kingdom on the day I die then I will have failed. I will have let down my house, and every man, woman, and child in the North. My people deserve to be left out of the petty squabbles of the South. But first I must turn my gaze to Moat Cailin.
“Your wife and son shall remain here until he is of an age to travel, I would suggest improving the living conditions before they arrive. I will also be sending with you twenty men to ensure you get their safely, they will remain with you to aid in training your own troops. I have had your belongings collected and your horse ready, you can leave as soon as you are ready?”
“Have you met your grandson yet? You should come with me, while I say goodbye.” Brenett was only a few weeks old, he could be found with my wife Lyra, she never left his side.
“I would be delighted.”
My horse trotted along the trail through the forest, I could smell the fresh soil and the morning dew on the leaves. We started early this morning so that we would reach the castle at a decent time. I weaved through the trees as the cart with my personal effects stayed true to the trail, my men all on horseback slowly meandered behind and in front of the cart. They were not a talkative bunch, much of the ride was done in silence. I was not bothered as it gave me time to think. My father said the three towers still standing in Moat Cailin are all in poor shape and in need of repair. Much of my wealth would be put towards these repairs and expansions. The trees quickly became sparse and the road grew wider, at the edge of the forest I could see in the distance three towers. The largest, and middle tower, was known as the Children’s Tower. Father said I should make it mine, it should be in the best shape. I spur my horse into a gallop and race towards my new home. The closer I become the more I realize how much my father understated the condition of the castle. It was a wonder it was still standing. The tower itself was on a slight slant, one side sinking into the ground, with each wall possessing great holes, the wooden walkways were rotted away and the Iron Gate had turned red and brittle. My task may be more difficult than I had first thought.
As I approach the gate, from the inside I can hear a man barking commands to the men at the walls, he stops talking for a few moments and the creaking of the gates fills the silence. Slowly the castle is opened up to me. From behind me I can hear the rest of our party catching up, I turn and see the men, each full of a look of sorrow, they had not been prepared for this. I could not help but laugh at their dismay, we were in this together now. Looking around the courtyard I can see many men, none too happy, doing work around the tower. It was enough to keep it standing, but I wanted much more than that. I must remember to send some men out to some of the small villages in the area to ask for men to help.
“You must be Brandon.” It was the same man who was giving the commands I had heard as I came upon the gates.
“Yes, and you would be?”
“Fashbinder.” A strange name no doubt, he appeared to be Northman if not named as one. He was a portly man with a kind face. He wore a mustache that went down to his chin and a hood to cover his balding head. “I’ve been master at arms of this castle for the past few years.”
He didn’t look the type, maybe he had some strength to him. I would find out later, for now I would rest. I turned to one of the men that came with us “Bring my things to my chambers.”
Fashbinder and I walked through the keep to my room, it was a simple room, nothing too extravagant adorned the walls or the bed. There was a small window opposite the door that looked out over the courtyard. Soon after Fashbinder I arrived the men brought in my effects, I had them set at the end of my bed.
“You’re dismissed Fashbinder, take this time to get some more men, well need much more if we are to rebuild these towers.” He left and I was left alone, outside my room I can hear the bustle as the tower comes back to life, no longer forgotten by the lord of the North, someone has been appointed to command this land. It was time I rested, my time for sleep the past week has been few and far between. My rest was short and plagued by dreams, of which I remember little.
The peace was short lived, my maester, Duncan, comes to me late at night with news from Winterfell and the South, Aegon is not yet finished in his conquest, now with the forces of his seven lord paramounts behind him he is marching on Dorne as we speak, he will not take no for an answer this time. In the letter my father asks that I supply my troops to Aegon’s cause as is my duty and that I be the one to lead the troops of the North into Dorne to conquer it for our king. Duncan would have me comply and send as many troops as I can spare, he was a Southron man born and raised in the gardens of the Reach, it was to be expected
“You must not deny your king troops my lord, it is an act of treason, should Aegon feel it necessary we would be burned as rebels in this tower. What then would the North do under the threat of these Southron invaders you would have me fear so much? With Moat Cailin a burned wasteland enemy troops could march up North as if they were Torrhen’s own, unopposed.”
“What business do Northern men have in Dorne? What glory awaits them so far south?” His face grew into a scowl, he was less than pleased that I was considering to remain in Moat Cailin. Mayhaps he wanted to head south himself, the summer snows were too much for him. Regardless, Aegon would never risk angering his vassals so early into his reign by burning the son of the man who rules over half the continent. No, he would wait for a better reason to take action against me.
“Brandon speaks the truth Duncan, we are worlds apart. By the time Torrhen’s forces arrive in Dorne the war will be over.” Fashbinder and I were of the same mind, “We would be better off keeping the men here and having every capable man working on the repairs.”
“My lord, I must insist–”
“Duncan, send word to the Gatehouse tower and Drunkards tower, tell them to stay put.” My father will not be pleased.
As the wars in the south rage on, I have other desires. Recently I have been hearing rumors spread throughout the realm of some old man claiming to have knowledge of the whereabouts of a Valyrian steel sword, like my father’s Ice. Anyone I have talked to says he’s just a crazy old man, but I think there may be some merit to his stories. I have already had my maester send out word that I wish to acquire a valyrian steel sword for my own, rather than wait for my father to die. With the ravens sent all I can do is wait for news of this man to reach me, and hope someone else hasn’t already taken up his offer.
