act i . chapter xxv

VENGEANCE
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WITH HIS GLOVED HAND, Brandon pushed open the tavern door and stomped in with his escort of companions. He was riding ahead with his squire, Ethan Glover, and his other friends, Kyle Royce, Jeffory Mallister, and Elbert Arryn. They rode ahead of the Tully host in order to drink and be merry before he had to marry Catelyn Tully.

"The Lady Cat's going to have one sick husband by tomorrow," Royce noted with zest. The group of men laughed boisterously as they stepped up to the bar. The air was dusty and the bar was sticky. The smells of sweat and alchohol invigorated him. It turned him on.

"You're finest for my men and I," Brandon ordered, dropping the money on the bar. The tender looked at him with suspicious eyes as he wiped the money into his apron and sat five horns onto the table.

"You're Lord Brandon Stark?" he asked as he took a bottle out from under the counter with a clink of glass. "Aye," answered Brandon as he filled up one of the first glasses. Brandon picked it up.

"You all going to Riverrun to marry the Tully's daughter?"

"Aye," Brandon said in his gravelly voice as he took a sip, waiting for the rest of the cups to be filled.

"So I s'pose you heard the news, young Lord?" the bartender said darkly. "Of your sister?" Brandon's interest was peaked.

"My sister?" he asked. "What of her?"

The man scowled. "The Dragon Prince fell smitten wit her and decided to take her right from your Lord Father's encampment. Not a soul's seen either one of them for weeks. I would 'ave thought you'd known, m'lord. There's been Stark men combing the wholst of the Riverlands in search of 'er, but we all knows where she went."

Brandon's eyes went dark and, all of the sudden, the Stark heir seemed nearly twice as large as he actually was.

"Your saying Rhaegar Targaryen took her?" he asked darkly, making the barkeeper shrink back.

"That's the word. You was at the tourney wasn't you? He crowned you sister Queen of Love over his own princess."

Scowling, Brandon downed the drink in one swallow and slammed the horn down on the bar. "Aye, he did."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, m'lord. 'Ave this one on me," the bartender said, pouring Brandon another glass. "Goddamnit," he growled, taking down the second poured drink.

"Come on, men," he barked as he stomped out of the bar, rage seeping from his very being. Lord Elbert Arryn, nephew and heir to John Arryn looked grimly at Brandon's squire with weary eyes. The young Ethan Glover just pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. The boy was more used to the Wild-Wolf's antics than anyone. He was the youngest of all of them. A boy of only fourteen. A handsome face, but young. He had the dull, dark hair and white skin of the northmen. He was short and skinny and had obvious potential.

Nineteen year old, Jeffory Mallister, the second eldest in the group looked the same, only he had the making of hard, stone face and he was growing a thick beard. He was a huge man. Bigger than Brandon. Then there was Kyle Royce. House Royce was bannerman to House Arryn and was one of the more powerful families in the Vale. He was short and stocky and hard in muscle. A proven warrior.

The squire gulped his own drink and bounded after his Lord. The rest of the boys did the same. Brandon Stark was no knight. Not many Northmen were. It was widely believed that the title "Ser" was for perfumed, southern Lords who were starving for glory. The North was more humble than that. And besides, they didn't need to such a title to intimidate in battle. Their gruesome reputation preceded them. Just because Brandon wasn't a knight, didn't mean that he couldn't dub another with the title. Lord was a higher title than Ser and Brandon was heir to a Lord Paramount.

Nevertheless, the North was changing. All the kingdoms were. They were unsettled by the uncanny rule of their Mad King. It had been going on for almost two decades and the Great Lords were conspiring for and end. House Stark included. That meant alliances. Alliances to the the Tully's of Riverrun. A marriage would do. The Arryns of the Vale. Fostering a son might have done it. And marrying a daughter to the Lord of Baratheon who also fostered with the Stark son at the Vale. Mixing in with the rest of the kingdoms took more than just alliances. Culture was a part of it. Bringing the Knight title to the bleak cold could do it.

Brandon thunderously swung his leg over his horse and kicked his big, gray destrier forward into a run. The four companions scrambled to do the same. Brandon raced down the kingsroad, straight past the wedding party, not saying one word to the men who felt obligated to following after him. Thoughts and feelings of fear, anger and hatred swirled around his head like a violent blizzard.

Rhaegar Targaryen may be a prince, but that sure doesn't mean that his can take his sister like she was his own. Not only could this collapse the alliance the North had with Robert Baratheon, but Lyanna was Brandon's sister. He may not show it; he may be hard on her, but the love he carried for that girl was a fierce, unbreakable one. He wasn't going to stand for her mistreatment, even if it was the Crown Prince.

They all rode hard for a fortnight, not resting but to sleep. When Lord Elbert asked what they were doing, Brandon replied in a voice that gave them all chills, "I'm going to kill Rhaegar Targaryen and take my sister back to Winterfell."

All of them became visibly scared. This endeavor was indeed treason and a sure suicide mission. But they were already in the Crownlands. It was too late and they couldn't say no to Brandon Stark. When they rode into King's Landing, everyone knew who he was and word spread quickly that Lord Paramount Rickard Stark's son was in a tavern, drinking the bottoms out of every glass he could get his hands on. The four men who had accompanied him had down the same, knowing that there was no way that they could do what they were about to do with a sober mind.

Brandon grew angrier with every sip he took. The heat in his body rose by the minute and all he could think about was that incest-born abomination's hands on his sister.

"Lord Brandon Stark," a deep, but obviously young voice greeted from Brandon's right. He had a melodic, Dornish drawl. Brandon looked to his right with bloodshot, angry eyes, he saw a young, sandy-skinned man who was obviously older than Brandon by only a few years. He was clean shaven and had a head of messy, curly, black hair. He wore the bronze and orange of House Martell with a peirced sun on on his coat of arms.

"Martell?" asked Brandon with a slur, his head starting hurt.

"Oberyn," the second son introduced, holding out his hand. Brandon shook it. His hand was nearly twice as big as Lord Oberyn's and twice and rough.

"The Red Viper," the wolf slurred. "A formidable fighter."

"As are you, Lord Brandon. I heard that you were quite the contender in the Tourney of its Time."

"Is that what they're calling it?"

"That is correct," Oberyn told him. "It was Prince Rhaegar that unhorsed you?"

"The fucker," Brandon growled.

"I've been there. The fucker can't be beaten," Lord Oberyn said in his accented voice as he looked the man up and down. "You are about to do something bad, bad, bad, aren't you?"

"You're the one with three bastard daughters. Those are your three bads, let me deal with mine," Brandon jived. Oberyn was unaffected by the insult.

"My Sand Snakes bring me no shame. Bastards are born of passion," he said nonchalantly.

"One of them is off a Septa, you sick shit," Brandon scoffed.

"You know what I heard of you, Lord Stark?" Brandon raised an eyebrow. "You're bedding that Ryswell girl every time you get the chance, ignored the blaring fact that you are both promised to another. That's what is shit. You don't see me bedding a woman whose as good as married."

Brandon shot up out of his chair and held up Oberyn by the collar. "Don't you fucking dare."

The Red Viper looked as calm as ever. "You are about to do something bad, Lord Brandon. Rhaegar Targaryen dishonored my sister too. The baby inside her is her death sentence and her husband crowns another woman, steals her and hides from the rest of the kingdom?

"I know why you're are here, Lord Stark and I want my vengeance too."

A/N: alright so we moving along pretty swiftly now. Looking at the stats( since no one bothers to comment) I can see that Rhaegar, Lyanna, and oddly Ashara are the favorites. I'm trying to put more of her in here, be she won't be really big again until the end. You guys are gonna have to warm up to Ned. Many of the important chapters will he through him!!! I hope he'll end up a favorite!

Anyway!! I hope you enjoyed this one, but it's a but of a shot filler. Because of that and because of Battle of Winterfell, I will post on Sunday. If Jon Snow dies, I'll post two chapters. Those will be Lyanna then Brandon. Happy reading!