read my new story : American Fast & Furious NSFW
In the Throne Room, the evening banquet was in full swing, with guests twisting and turning on the dance floor.
Human nature boils down to socializing.
Banquets, dances, tourneys, courts—even battlefields—were all prime spots for networking.
At this feast, lords could chat freely, arrange advantageous marriages, or swap squires and wards.
Normally, folks met at dances, tourneys, or house visits—today was a golden opportunity.
Over by a long table along the aisle, Lord Selwyn Tarth greeted Arthur with a warm smile, striking up a casual conversation.
The old man and the young heir stood together without a hint of awkwardness.
Lord Selwyn, in his blue silk robe, carried himself with graceful, old-school dignity—a classic middle-aged lord.
Arthur wore black with gold accents, emblazoned with the black bat sigil.
A strong, handsome, energetic heir to a major house.
"Young Master Arthur, Tarth has stunning views. If you have time, I'd love for you to visit the island," Lord Selwyn said.
Lord Selwyn eyed Arthur—the Whents were known for their impeccable manners and good looks.
Seeing Arthur only reinforced that image.
A handsome, vibrant boy—a real keeper.
"Thanks for the kind invite, Lord Selwyn. When I get a chance, I'll definitely pay you a visit," Arthur replied with a smile.
Tarth was one of Westeros' top scenic spots, famous like the Gods Eye in the Riverlands, the Giant's Lance in the Vale, or the rose fields of Highgarden.
If he had time, Arthur wanted to see Tarth—not just for the views, but for the legends of "Evenstar" Galladon too.
"Then you'll have to put up with me and my entourage. Tarth's landscapes and marble are one of a kind," Arthur added.
"You won't be disappointed, Arthur. Tarth is welcoming—I'll make sure my guests have a great time. You'll see the sights and the marble," Lord Selwyn chuckled.
Arthur was eyeing some marble; it was Tarth's pricey specialty.
Tarth didn't have sapphires, but its marble was top-notch.
Whitewalls had used Vale stone, which was already expensive.
Tarth marble was even better.
Back when the Eyrie was built, it dragged on for generations because King Roland rejected Vale stone—all the marble came from Tarth across the Narrow Sea.
That showed the stone hierarchy—Tarth beat the Vale.
After a bit of small talk, Lord Selwyn excused himself.
Arthur watched him go, lost in thought.
"Evenstar" Lord Selwyn Tarth, nicknamed "the Good Guy," was another pity case right now.
He was a breath of fresh air among lords—not power-hungry, just into enjoying life.
Tarth was beautiful, he had plenty of gold, and his lifestyle was refined.
He had a new mistress every year.
Lord Selwyn hadn't chatted Arthur up for no reason.
His big worry now was finding a betrothal for his daughter.
His only son had just drowned, leaving his only daughter, Brienne of Tarth.
Tarth's inheritance was hanging by a thread.
Brienne was one of a kind—ugly, built like a tank, a female giant of a knight.
So betrothals kept falling through.
"Too bad," Arthur thought with a sigh. He and Lord Selwyn hit it off—they could've been great buddies.
Buddies, sure—but nothing more.
Brienne was SSR material, best kept as a knight or bodyguard.
"Kid, why aren't you out there dancing?" a booming voice asked as a big guy sidled up to Arthur.
Arthur looked closer—it was Lord Bracken.
Lord Jonos Bracken, head of House Bracken, a big name in the Riverlands.
Lord Jonos had broad shoulders and arms, rough brown hair, brown eyes.
He wore a brown wool tunic embroidered with House Bracken's red stallion.
Since Lord Blackwood was at Arthur's table, Lord Bracken had picked another to join.
Houses Blackwood and Bracken were ancient rivals.
While Lord Blackwood was off dancing, he'd snuck over.
"Everyone here's a lord, not many kids around—I wouldn't want to embarrass myself," Arthur replied politely.
"Come on, no little girls here, sure. But visit Stone Hedge, and you'll have young folks to dance with," Lord Jonos said, slapping Arthur's shoulder, reeking of wine.
Those "young folks" meant his daughters.
His wife only had girls, while Lord Blackwood had all boys right now.
Arthur laughed, "You're too kind—I'll definitely stop by sometime."
"It's a deal then." Lord Jonos got up to leave, muttering under his breath. "What a weird world—I only have girls, some folks only boys..."
He was griping about his old rival, House Blackwood, for sure.
"You're quite the hot commodity now," Ser Lucas Dayne said to Arthur.
"Everyone's at the banquet for that reason," Arthur replied with a smile.
In Westeros, marriages and politics demanded noble blood—even slight mismatches were rare.
The Lord Paramounts, Oldtown's Hightowers, the once-mighty Velaryons—that was tier one.
Major lords and top landed knights were tier two.
That covered a lot—second-tier big lords and first-rate ones squeezed in together.
Reach: Redwyne, Rowan, Florent, Tarly, Oakheart, red and green apple Fossoway.
Riverlands: Whent, Frey, Bracken, Blackwood, Mallister.
Vale: Royce, Grafton, Redfort, Waynwood, Belmore, nine-star Templeton knights.
Westerlands: Crakehall, Marbrand, Farman, Prester.
Stormlands: Caron, Swann, Dondarrion, Tarth.
North: Bolton, Manderly, Dustin, Karstark, Ryswell.
Dorne: Yronwood, Dayne, Fowler, Blackmont, Manwoody.
Then it went down from there.
If no match in your tier, you'd look lower or wait forever for the right one.
Arthur had a prime example right in front of him—his relative, Edmure Tully.
Hoster wanted a major lord match for his son, even eyeing the Martells.
Options were slim, so Edmure was still single at twenty-seven or eight.
Old Frey had politely offered alliances, but Hoster brushed him off—that old trout was greedy.
Even with all the enthusiasm, Arthur was cautious about betrothals.
Especially between major lords.
Nobles built alliances through marriages and fostering squires or wards.
Last time, the trout-wolf-stag-falcon multi-marriages and fosters toppled the Targaryens.
But done wrong, marriage was a double-edged sword—like Robb's Red Wedding later.
Folks like Lord Selwyn and Lord Bracken were the eager types.
Lord Selwyn had only one daughter left, Lord Bracken a string of girls.
They probably wouldn't have sons in their lifetimes.
So they were extra picky about their daughters' marriages.
"No need to rush," Ser Lucas said.
Lucas trusted Arthur—a promising heir didn't have to hurry.
The Whent heir carried weight.
Especially since Arthur would hold Harrenhal and Whitewalls, basically the whole Gods Eye region.
But Harrenhal's big flaw was its creepy curse aura.
That kept some top nobles at arm's length.
With his "Greenhand" skill, once Arthur shook off Harrenhal's curse, the place would truly revive.
As Arthur chatted with Ser Lucas, Edmure Tully made the rounds, greeting the Riverlands lords.
"Don't forget to visit Riverrun sometime, Arthur—there's a spot by the hearth for you," Edmure Tully said with a grin.
Edmure was easygoing, average height, friendly—but incompetent.
Lord Hoster doted on his youngest, and Edmure wasn't some standout knight or lord.