It took a week for Edmure to return to the castle, arriving just as the morning mist was clearing. Word quickly reached Hoster that the boy had returned with a few courtesans in tow. He waited patiently in his solar, preparing himself for the inevitable conversation.
"Father, I will be leaving after a meal," Edmure announced, barging in with his usual lack of ceremony. "I'll stay at the capital for a while; we likely won't meet again for two months. The tourney is four months away, and after that, all hell will break loose. Where's Uncle?"
"Don't be so restless, my child," Hoster replied, his prepared lecture vanishing in the face of his son's weary frame. "I am already proud of what you've accomplished. Why take the risk of going to the capital now?"
"On the surface, I'm responding to the Prince's invitation," Edmure said, dropping his voice. "But before the rebellion breaks out, I must be in King's Landing. The Mad King has hidden caches of wildfire beneath the city, hoping to take everyone down with him if he loses. I need to see if I can diffuse them without drawing ire. Trust me, I'm very sneaky."
"The Seven preserve us!" Hoster gasped. "Is he truly that far gone, hasn't Duskendale worn off his mind yet? Does anyone else know? A gamble like that would ruin us all."
"Only his pyromancers. Not even Tywin Lannister knows. That's why it has to be me—quietly. Keep this to yourself, Father. I don't want a target on my back. Diffusion brings fame, but fame is a scarce resource in a world where nobility are hunting for legitimacy. Unnecessary fame that makes others hungry for your head."
"Very well. Not even Brynden shall hear of this," Hoster promised. "Can you not stay for at least a day?"
"No reason to waste time. I'll ride alone; taking a retinue into that den of jackals is a weakness, not a strength."
"Hold on," Hoster interjected. "What about the women you brought back?"
"What about them? Riverrun can afford a few more idle mouths."
"And if they are spies?"
"So what if they are? I am already stronger than you can imagine. Besides, I've observed them. What kind of self-respecting spy doesn't carry untraceable poison or aphrodisiac?" Edmure had suspected Elaena early on, a Lyseni woman in the heart of the Riverlands was a rarity. He had spent days looking for signs of the Tears of Lys, the silent killer of the histories, but found nothing.
Before leaving, Edmure made a final round of the castle, beating the residents into shape so no one would harass the new arrivals. Even Petyr and Lysa received a taste of his blunt scolding. Edmure didn't leave Lysa's room until she was weeping with fright.
During the meal, Hoster sat in a dark mood. Edmure assumed it was due to his stern persuasion of the household earlier.
"Father, a man should make his intentions clear," Edmure said, tearing into a piece of bread. "I made sure everyone got the message."
"No, it's something else," Hoster sighed. "Lysa... it seems she's pregnant. The Septa went to check on her after your little stunt and noticed."
Edmure merely raised an eyebrow, his expression saying, And? What of it?
"Take this seriously, boy! It isn't Petyr's; I forbade them and kept them monitored. It's Jaime's."
"The Lion!" Edmure chuckled. "It seems the cub is taking himself far too seriously. Well, we can't send the mother or the child west. That Lannister girl is crazier than the King; she'd torture them both. We'll raise the child. We don't lack for coin."
Hoster nodded slowly. Edmure had already revealed the truth of Jaime's incestuous relations to him weeks ago.
"Still, we can't let it slide," Edmure continued, his eyes turning cold. "A man makes his intentions clear: no one touches my family or my castle. I'll pay the Old Lion a visit at the capital."
Hoster looked up, shocked. He thought Edmure would deal with Jaime, but the boy intended to confront Tywin himself. "Is that wise?"
"We need a reason to open the struggle with the West for Plan Red anyway. Why not start with a bang? I'll handle it. Now, give me some coin."
Hoster pointed to a heavy iron-bound chest. "Twenty thousand golden dragons. Take them. I might not shit gold, but I am a better father than Tywin Lannister. My son will never live a life of wanting."
"Life of the High Lords," Edmure smirked. "I'll steel my heart and carry the burden of this lifestyle. Farewell."
On the Road to King's Landing
"How fast do you think that boy truly was that day, Oswell?" Rhaegar asked, watching the road ahead.
"Not fast enough to run from me," Oswell grinned, though those who knew him saw the prelude to a reckoning. "Next time we meet, I'll give him a proper thrashing. Haven't you heard? A maternal uncle is born to drag his nephew through the mud."
Jon Connington shook his head, wondering what kind of water they fed the children of the Trident. Each one was more eccentric than the last.
In the Red Keep
"Your Majesty, the brigands have been apprehended," Varys whispered in his soothing voice. "The Prince is bringing them now. It seems the son of Hoster Tully had a hand in the matter. My birds checked the site; they found a message carved into a tablet."
Varys recited the words: "I deeply mourn the passing of the Kingswood Brotherhood. Such is the way of the world—that good men must spill each other's blood. I hope they find liberation from the cycle of reincarnation."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" The King cackled, his long, yellow fingernails scratching at the arms of the Iron Throne. "What a braggart! Even the High Septon isn't that pompous. Bring the outlaw leader to me directly. I have a special entertainment prepared for him."
As Varys bowed and left, the King murmured to his shadow, "I'll hear just how sweet he sounds when he's in the flames."
In Riverrun.
Elaena was holding a mirror. The view showed a statue of a woman crying and collecting the tears in a bowl. Elaena murmured, "How heartless of the boy. Left without a goodbye." She touched the mirror and spoke, "Mother, help him. I find him interesting, maybe I won't have to live such kind of life anymore." The mirror returned to normal showing Elaena's smiling face.