"Has anyone heard the explosive news? That Riverrun is about to get a dashing new heir? I wonder who it might be?" Edmure swaggered into the feast hall in the early morning, his voice booming as he started a mock ruckus. "I know! It's me! What a fine day it is. I feel as though I could dance the whole morning away."
"Even pigs don't squeal as loud as you," Hoster grumbled, though his posture was relaxed, conceding that Edmure would be the inevitable center of attention today. "Sit down properly so we can get over with this nonsense before I regret my decision."
"Yes, my lord!" Edmure replied with a theatrical bow. "I, Edmure Tully, your humble heir, shall obey your every instruction."
"I'll truly beat you if you continue this," Hoster warned, "even if I have to muster the levies to do it."
Amidst Edmure's antics, the morning began with a rare, cheerful energy. There would be no sprawling public ceremony; Hoster had agreed that Edmure's upcoming tour of the realm would serve as his introduction to the vassals. After the meal, the family gathered in Hoster's solar. The study was packed: Hoster, Brynden, Edmure, Catelyn, and Lysa sat on one side of the massive oak table. Maester Vyman sat at a corner desk, his parchments ready and his ravens waiting to carry word to the Seven Kingdoms. Household guards and senior servants stood along the walls as witnesses.
Hoster stood and began his address. "I hereby declare that my son, Edmure, is the heir of Riverrun. From this day forward, he shall manage all my demesne as he sees fit. He is assigned twenty guards for the time being, until he forms a retinue of his own choosing. As the Lord of Riverrun, I declare that in my absence, Edmure's voice is the highest authority."
Hoster then signaled to a servant, who brought forward two items wrapped in velvet. "As his father, I bestow upon him the heirlooms of House Tully. First, the shield given to Edmyn Tully—the first of our line to be named Lord Paramount of the Trident by Aegon the Conqueror. Second, the hunting horn of Grover Tully, our most distinguished ancestor, gifted to him by King Jaehaerys I."
A murmur rippled through the room. Hoster was sharing the rule of the Trident in all but name. Not even Prince Rhaegar enjoyed such absolute political backing from his father. Edmure cleared his throat, his expression shifting from jester to statesman as he addressed the witnesses.
"Most of you know me. I am a man of few words," Edmure began, his tone steady. "I accept these rewards and, from this moment, bear the burden of this House. As a gesture to my sister, Catelyn, I declare that the Old Sept in the holdfast of Stoney Sept shall be fully renovated. I shall set aside ten percent of the demesne's income for the next ten years for this purpose."
The ceremony concluded shortly after. Catelyn and Septa Mordane were visibly moved by the gesture toward the Faith, and Vyman immediately began scratching out copies of the proclamation. For the next few days, the Maester and the Lord would be buried in correspondence.
Edmure spent the afternoon on patrol with Brynden, beginning an intensive inspection of the Tully lands. The private holdings of the Head of the House were scattered, and Edmure wanted to familiarize himself with every acre. With an annual income of roughly 20,000 golden dragons, the estates were vast. Though the coming rebellion meant he couldn't initiate grand reforms just yet, knowing exactly who owed what would ensure that supplies moved to the frontlines without friction.
However, when Edmure entered the feast hall that evening, the morning's joy had vanished. Catelyn's eyes were red from weeping, and Hoster's face was grimmer than usual. Edmure glanced at Brynden, who simply sighed.
"Father, sister, what has happened? Perhaps I can help?"
"The painting..." Catelyn sobbed. "The painting you gifted me... it's ruined. I wanted to keep it forever, but I couldn't even protect a gift. I'm a failure of a noblewoman."
"You are not!" Hoster barked, his voice echoing. "You did nothing wrong. It is simply that some people believe I am too old and incapable of managing my own family." He turned his gaze toward the end of the table. "Lysa!"
The booming voice of the veteran soldier startled both girls. Catelyn instinctively moved to shield her sister. Seeing this, Hoster forced his voice into a low, emotionless tone. "Why? See, even now, Cat thinks only of your safety. You two were inseparable as children. Why have you done this?"
Lysa offered no response, staring at Hoster from behind Catelyn's shoulder with a mixture of fear and defiance. Brynden looked ready to plead for his niece, while Petyr sat perfectly still, acting as though the drama had nothing to do with him.
"Father, if I may," Edmure stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like cold steel. "As their brother, I declare that both Catelyn and Lysa shall receive identical dowries: 6,000 golden dragons, in coin or estate. Furthermore, to compensate for our past inattention, I believe Lysa should be given her own choice in marriage."
Edmure looked directly at his weak willed sister. "Both mine and Catelyn's marriages will be for politics. But you, Lysa, may marry whomever you wish. If you desire Petyr as your husband, so be it. I will ensure you have a fief befitting your stature."
The arbitrary decision was shocking, but after a moment of stunned silence, both Hoster and Brynden nodded. House Tully already had two golden siblings to secure the realm; they didn't need to use Lysa as a pawn.
"I've watched Petyr grow up," Brynden added. "I find his character acceptable. If Lysa wishes it, I support the union."
Hoster stood and walked toward his daughters, lowering his head to Lysa's level. "Come forward, child," he said softly. "My attention was on Cat because she was groomed to be an heir. But never doubt my love for you. You are both my princesses. It is late, but I will make amends. I hope you find happiness with whomever you choose."
The tension broke as Lysa, emboldened, successfully proposed to Petyr. Others congratulated, only Catelyn felt down. To cheer her up, Edmure produced his copy of that painting. It featured the same sunset view, but with one addition: Edmure himself was perched on a scaffolding above the window where Catelyn and Hoster stood, making a ridiculous, tongue-out face at the artist to ruin the solemnity of the moment.
[Lordship level:1| +10% trainining speed per level]