In the evening following the feast, Edmure retreated to the smithy to further hone his crafting skills. Along the way, his instincts flared, prompting him to check on his family's whereabouts. He eventually spotted Lysa leading Jaime toward a secluded corner of the keep.
"So, the girl is stepping up her game?" Edmure mused to himself. "I just hope she doesn't capsize by trying too hard."
Satisfied that the castle was secure, he returned to the forge and began hammering away at a half-finished blade. He didn't crave a Valyrian sword, but he knew that leveling his smithing might unlock a unique perk. Having reached the point of diminishing returns with his personal combat skills, he was now focused on anything that could bolster the strength of his realm.
The next morning, the Westerland guests departed. Edmure was eager to ride out, but upon learning that his uncle was occupied, he gathered a group of guards to investigate reports of brigands in the nearby villages.
Inside the solar, however, Hoster and Brynden were locked in a heated argument.
"Brother, do you truly wish to go through with this?" Brynden asked. "The boy is cocky, yes, but is there any need to strain your relationship this way?"
"I know the stakes," Hoster replied firmly. "But my conscience will not allow me to sit idly by. We ruined a girl's life; it is only fitting that we make amends. Edmure might not have been part of this scheme, but he has been far too insistent on severing the Dornish ties to the Crown. He speaks as if everyone else is a puppet for his fascination. He will only understand our family words once he feels the weight of duty personally."
"But why keep it from him?" Brynden countered. "You know his character. What if he takes a radical path when he finds out?"
"That is a risk I am willing to take as his father," Hoster said.
"That is what I hate about you, Hoster," Brynden snapped, memories of his own forced betrothals surfacing. "You make arbitrary decisions about people's lives and speak as if you are the one making the sacrifice."
"Are you going or not?" Hoster cut him off.
Brynden sighed. "Of course I'm going. I'll admit, I too want to see that complacent face of his get slapped. If betrothing him to a Dornish princess achieves that, so be it. For all his brilliance, it seems fate has decided to humble him. He had to pick that song yesterday."
"Control your gloating," Hoster warned. "He is still my son. Now, ride in secret. Convince the Martells of our sincerity. Elia Martell shall be betrothed to Edmure with all honors. If you fail, I'll find a marriage for you, too—and we'll see if you can run away from Edmure's questions then."
"Yes, My Lord Tully," Brynden grumbled, slipping out of Riverrun in secret while Edmure remained blissfully unaware of the trap being set for him.
The Lannister Convoy
A short journey from the Golden Tooth, the Lannister party made camp. Tyrion looked back toward the north. "Are you really not coming home, brother?"
"No," Jaime replied, adjusting his saddle. "I've completed the mission Father gave me. Besides, I want to see our sister. King's Landing is unlike any other place; the best gather there. I'll learn from them and one day beat that Tully brat."
"He isn't that bad, Jaime. Just brash, eccentric, and perhaps a bit poisonous," Tyrion offered. "Can't we be friends with him? What does Riverrun have that the West lacks? Why go to such lengths as to seduce Lysa?"
"We can be friends, Tyrion. But as that wiseass said, we shouldn't be sentimental. Our life is an act." Jaime bade his brother farewell and turned his horse east toward the capital. "Take care on the road. Go to Aunt Genna if you need anything. We're here for you."
The Red Keep
"The gall of that Lion!" King Aerys shrieked, lashing out at the air while the Kingsguard stood in tense silence. "He dares challenge my authority? To use the Small Council to push his daughter onto Rhaegar!"
"Unfortunately, your Majesty," Varys whispered, "the rumors of Lady Elia's fragile health have spread among the nobility. Lord Tywin has seized the opportunity."
"The Dornish should have been burned!" Aerys spat. "Was Tywin behind the rumors?"
"It seems someone else started the fire, but Tywin's sails caught the wind. Lady Cersei has been in the city for some time, attempting to reach the Prince."
"A whore! Tywin seeks revenge for Joanna," the King hissed. "Keep Rhaegar busy. There are brigands in the Kingswood; send him to hunt them. Then, order him to repair Summerhall."
"Is that wise, Majesty?" Varys asked smoothly. "Summerhall is traditionally the seat of the second son. For the heir to be sent there... might the Prince misunderstand your intentions?"
"Let him! If I let him and the Lion conspire, he'll offer his own mother to Tywin for a bargain. Leave me!"
Varys bowed and retreated. Left alone, the King rambled until something snapped in his mind. He began to laugh, a high, manic sound that chilled the very stones of the throne room.
"Yes... fire. Traitors, all of them. I'll burn them! Yes! Burn them all! Hahahaha! Burn them all!"