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The Lord of Castamere

Summary:

The Rains Wept Over Castamere, and the Reynes died.

Save one.

The son of Roger Reyne, grandson of Lord Roger Reyne the Red Lion was born nine months after the Siege of Castamere, his mother a maid who had loved his father and who his father had loved. Raised in secret by his distant kinfolk, the Vikarys, he was sent across the Narrow Sea at the age of 16, during the Defiance, so that he would he could live without the specter of Tywin Lannister over him.

Now, 22 years later, the Last Red Lion sees his chance for revenge. Revenge for the family that was stolen from him, for the home that was lost beneath water, for his very name. He returns to the land he once called home, and he seeks all that was stolen from him and from his family.

Notes:

And who are you, the proud lord said,

Chapter 1: Prologue-Part I

Chapter Text

She had been following Roger for what had seemed an age, down the winding tunnels and shafts of sections that had long since had their riches of silver and gold stolen from their veins, all the while fearful of his countenance since he had collected her from where the rest of the servants and handmaids had been hiding since his lord father had returned from battle with a crossbow bolt sticking from between his shoulders. 

She had never seen him so afraid, not in all the years she had served his family, not even when King Aegon had brought charges to the Lord Paramount against his father and only his uncle's clever words persuaded the Laughing Lion to pardon him and his men. 

She struggled to find the will to ask him where they were going, as if the words had caught in her throat every time she attempted to speak them.

As they rounded a corner, she felt a breeze across her face, and breathed in air that was far from the stale and musty affair that lingered in the mines. She knew where they were going now, and finally forced the words to flee her mouth. 

 

"There really are secret exits out of the mines, aren't there? We're leaving?" 

 

At that he stopped in his tracks and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair- no longer in the careful back braids she had done before he had went with his lord father to fight the Lannisters, but a long loose tangle of fine red strands-and turned to her, his cheeks wet with long streaks of tears and his blue eyes glistening with more yet. 

 

"You are, Gemma. Not me."

 

"No! I won't go without you!" 

 

He grasped the sides of her arms then and brought her close to himself then, the embrace nearly crushing, as she smelled the blood of the men he had killed on his armour and the heavy scent of sweat that spoke to how long he'd been wearing his plate and mail.

 

"You can and you will, love. I do not know what will happen when that heartless monster takes the castle, but I do not want you here when he does. Because he will. By the Seven, he will."

 

He leaned close as he spoke, remembering the host that had battered his father's own and now stood at the gates. They were alone in this fight, and the other Lords of The West had already seen the die cast. 

Castamere would fall.

 

"But what about you? Your lord father? Your brother and cousins and uncle?" 

 

"He will kill us. He wants blood. He proved that when he had that bastard Lorch throw Rohanne's little boy down a well."

 

Looking up at him, she saw he had already accepted it and had replaced the fear with a vacant look in his eyes, but then he looked down at her, and he smiled sadly before he pressed his lips to her head and let her go. 

 

"I can not lose you. I will not see you dead or...or worse. So you are leaving."

 

He took her hand then and led her down the tunnel once more, before they rounded a final corner and she saw an opening at the end of the tunnel, leading outside. The light hurt her eyes for a moment, but she adjusted soon and breathed in deeply as they stepped outside. 

Just outside the tunnel she saw two men she recognized, Gawen and Dermott, two members of the castle guard and friends of Roger and his older brother Robert. They were dressed in their ringmail and boiled leathers, their traditional silver and red surcoats missing, as well as their red cloaks replaced with dirty brown ones. They both bowed to her as she exited, before they turned to Roger.

 

"Thank you again, my friends…I...I cannot repay this."

 

"You've done more for us than most lords do for their kin, my lord. We are glad to do this."

 

Dermott nodded solemnly at this as Roger looked at the two men fondly. 

 

"And that is what makes you good men. Kneel, my friends."

 

Looking at each other once, both men kneeled in front of Roger while he drew his longsword, hours old blood on it becoming a brown stain on the blade. 

He placed the sword on Gawen's right shoulder and spoke, clearly and proudly. 

 

"Gawen of Rain Fort, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

 

"I-I do, my lord."

 

"Then rise, Ser Gawen of Rain Fort, as a Knight of The Seven Who Are One."

 

Rising on shaky feet, Gawen smiled broadly at Roger, as Roger moved to Dermott. 

 

"Dermott of Spicertown, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

 

"I do, my lord."

 

"Then rise, Ser Dermott of Spicertown, as a Knight of The Seven Who Are One."

 

At that, Dermott stood up, and stood tall, as if the knighthood grew him. 

 

"Now your title reflects it. You both know where to go?"

 

"Yes, my lord. To Ser Tybolt Vikary."

 

"Good. Where will you meet his men?" 

 

"At the inn near the main road to Payne Hall, ask for some Dornish red and boar."

 

Dermott had practiced this, she thought, as he seemed to recite it by rote. She knew who Ser Vikary was, a friend to House Reyne and both Lord Roger Reyne and her Roger. 

 

"Very good. Now...now ready the horses while I say farewell, if you would?" 

 

Nodding their heads, both newly anointed knights went down the rough dirt path, to the coursers she now saw. Turning to Roger she saw him stare at the blood on his sword, before he replaced it in its scabbard, and turned to her.

 

"Tybolt is a good man, he will look after you, as will Gawen and Dermott. You will be comfortable, I promise...I have given as much of the silver as I could grab to them. You will be able to buy a home near Goldengrass, and I'm sure-" 

 

"Stop. Just...stop please."

 

He looked at her then and saw the tears, as she trembled, her body wracked by gulping breaths of air and muffled cries. 

He went to her then and held her close then, stroking her head and letting his own cries die in his throat. He must be strong, he thought, for her.

 

"I love you Gemma. I have loved you since your mother brought you to Castamere when I was six. I have loved you more every day. I wish we had more time. The Seven...they are cruel."

 

"But we can have more time. You…you can come with us. Ser Vikary could protect you-" 

 

"To what end, love? So that Tywin Lannister can slaughter his men and murder his sons? No. No I will not bring his wrath upon my kinsmen's house. But you…"

 

He took her face in his hands and memorized every detail, to see him through the long hours to come. Her lovely spun gold coloured hair, tied in the same braids he had pulled as a child in their games. Her hazel eyes, with their flecks of gold, making them appear to be jewels pulled from the earth. Her heart shaped face, her small curving nose, her full cheeks, all of it. He would see it whenever he closed his eyes. 

 

"You will go, and you will be safe. You will live, Gemma. Live and be happy. You are mine, and I am yours. I love you."

 

"I love you too, Roger. Oh by the Mother, I love you."

 

He kissed her then, long and passionately, until he heard the gallop of a horse approaching, and he broke away and saw Gawen, a nervous look on his face. 

 

"My lord, we best be going, Dermott says the Lannisters have been looking around these hills for entrances into the mines. We don't know how long until they come back."

 

"Yes. Yes of course."

 

He looked upon her once more, and let go of her, and stepped back, afraid that if he did not, he would never let her go. 

 

"Farewell, Gemma. I love you. Ser Gawen, you have my eternal gratitude, as does Ser Dermott. Live well."

 

Gawen helped Gemma on as she climbed atop the courser then, and swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded towards his lord and his friend. 

 

"It is our honour, my lord. Fight well."

 

Gemma looked at Roger one last time and felt her tears start once more.

 

"I love you, Roger."

 

At that, Roger nodded to Gawen and Gawen spurred the horse down the dirt path to where Dermott was, leaving Roger behind, as he stared at the trio as they rode into the east, with Gemma catching a glimpse of him as she turned back to look. 

 

It was the last time they would ever see each other.