A black and a green flag fluttered in the wind over the grand plaza in front of Casterly Rock. The guards waiting to welcome them stood in perfect formation, their spears thrusting straight toward the sky, looking absolutely imposing.
Aside from the guards, there were also many lean but fiercely rugged mountain clansmen.
Having learned that the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock were returning today, they were all waiting with bated breath.
Long before Jon left Casterly Rock to marry Margaery, Addam had already started preparing for the couple's return. After all, once Jon got back, Addam had to leave for the Wall. He just wanted to leave a good impression before he shipped out.
This shouldn't have been a difficult task, and with Brynden's help, it should have been a walk in the park.
But two sudden developments complicated things. First, the Hand of the King, Alester, arrived at Casterly Rock. He brought a royal decree, supposedly to take total command of the war against the Iron Islands right from the castle.
The Lord Hand threw his weight around immediately. The moment he arrived, he started interfering with local affairs—having his personal maester take over the rookery and demanding Casterly Rock provide military rations. If his army weren't still on the march, he probably would have tried to replace the castle garrison.
If that was all, it wouldn't have bothered Addam much. He was heading to the Wall anyway as soon as Jon returned, so this wasn't going to be his headache to cure.
However, Alester constantly showed his disdain for Addam, viewing him as a morally bankrupt, unforgivable scum for killing Tywin. To Alester, a mere year at the Wall wasn't nearly enough to wash away that sin.
Addam could stomach that much, but when Alester claimed Jon "knew nothing of honor" and just liked hanging around bastards, Addam snapped. If Brynden hadn't stepped in, they would have come to blows.
The second complication was the arrival of the Mountain Clans.
The first wave of migrating clansmen numbered a staggering thirty thousand. Their leaders told Addam that every single one of them wanted to personally welcome Jon and his new bride.
A welcoming committee of thirty thousand was obviously impossible. Getting that many people just to stand still without causing a riot was highly unlikely, let alone organizing them to greet Jon.
After a lot of back-and-forth negotiation, they agreed to send a delegation of elders and warriors to handle the greeting. Even so, this swelled the welcoming party's size to over two thousand people.
Compared to the insufferable Alester, Addam actually liked these mountain clansmen. At least they shot straight and didn't hide behind passive-aggressive remarks.
"S-Ser, can the Lord truly use magic to make it rain?" a blue-eyed girl asked.
This blue-eyed girl was Sola, who had previously left King's Landing with Harken to return to the Mountains of the Moon.
Addam could tell something was off about her. Whenever Jon's name came up, she got practically giddy, jumping for joy.
Any fool could see she had major feelings for Jon.
But unfortunately, her father was just a clan chief. Even if Jon eventually handed out titles to win the clansmen over, an earldom would be the absolute ceiling. That was nothing compared to House Tyrell.
Still, Addam figured it wasn't his problem to worry about. Right now, he just needed to focus on surviving a year at the Wall so he could return to Sarsfield as an Earl. He had killed Tywin with his own hands, and Tywin's son—the Kingslayer, Jaime—was currently stationed at the Wall.
In a way, Jaime was a hell of a lot scarier than the White Walkers.
As for whether Jon could actually control the rain, it wasn't just Sola asking; her father and several other clan elders were all looking at Addam for an answer.
Addam was more than happy to hype up Jon's "divine power" at a moment like this—especially since it had actually happened.
"Yes, Lady Sola, the Lord did indeed pull the rain from the sky."
"As expected of Lord Jon," Sola's father, Vido, said with a look of pure reverence, before dropping to his knees and bowing toward Casterly Rock.
Following his lead, other prominent clansmen bowed as well. The ordinary folk and warriors didn't need to be told twice; they dropped to their knees in a massive wave, prostrating themselves toward the castle.
Addam was a little freaked out by this reaction. This went way beyond basic loyalty; this was the posture of zealots bowing to a living god.
He genuinely wondered how Jon had managed to completely conquer these savages.
But, wanting to blend in, Addam offered a deep, respectful bow toward Casterly Rock as well.
Right then, an incredibly inappropriate and grating voice cut through the air.
"He's nothing but a young man with a bit of luck. How could he have achieved any of this without His Grace's patronage? King Stannis is the true savior chosen by the Lord of Light."
Addam turned to see Alester Florent speaking.
Ever since the man had arrived at Casterly Rock, he had been endlessly judging everything. Seeing zero trace of the Red God's faith around the castle, he constantly pointed fingers, insisting that as Stannis's subject, Jon was obligated to spread the religion throughout the Westerlands.
Addam naturally humored him with empty promises, not actually acting on a single demand. He figured all these complaints could wait until Jon got back.
Just as Addam was about to smooth things over again, a young mountain clansman spoke up.
"Lord Jon found us a new home. He is our savior. As for this king of yours, we've never even seen the guy. What the hell does he have to do with us?"
"That's right! Lord Jon is our savior!"
This sentiment immediately caught fire among the crowd, and a restless commotion began to stir.
Addam tensed up, watching Alester's reaction closely. The last thing he wanted was a riot happening right under Jon's nose just before he left.
Fortunately, Alester didn't say anything, merely letting out a cold scoff.
That let Addam breathe a sigh of relief.
But just because Alester shut his mouth didn't mean the mountain clansmen were going to let it go. A heavily built tribesman roughly the same age spoke up.
"If the Lord and I hadn't breached King's Landing, who knows where that king of yours would even be right now."
Hearing that, Addam's heart instantly shot right back into his throat.
Unsurprisingly, Alester completely lost his cool. His graying beard practically bristled, and he looked downright furious.
"Who! Who said that?!"
"I did! I, Harken, said it! You got a problem with that?!"
Harken stepped out from the crowd, tilting his head back and glaring at Alester with total defiance.
"You! You ought to be hanged for spewing such treason!" Alester roared, marching right up to him.
"Hang me? I'll strangle you first, old man!" Harken shot back, and the heavily armored clansman lunged toward Alester.
Alester's guards scrambled to throw themselves in front of him. Seeing that all hell was about to break loose, Addam threw himself between the two parties.
"Lord Harken! This man is King Stannis's Hand of the King!"
"Hand of the King, foot of the King, I don't give a shit!" Harken sneered, crossing his arms dismissively.
Addam had absolutely no way to reason with an illiterate brute like this, especially since the man was one of Jon's key battle commanders.
He looked over at Vido, the elder, but Vido clearly had no intention of mediating. Given how universally despised Alester was, the elder seemed perfectly happy to watch the pompous lord make a fool of himself.
Brynden was down at the docks receiving Jon, leaving Addam with absolutely no backup. His mind raced until he suddenly blurted out, "Lord Jon's father was the previous Hand of the King!"
"The Lord's... father." Hearing that, Harken finally reigned in his aggressive posture.
Addam then pivoted to Alester.
"Lord Hand, the Lord is arriving momentarily. He will handle these matters."
Seeing that Harken finally realized what the title of Hand actually meant, Alester gave a cold scoff and kept his mouth shut.
Seeing the crisis averted, Addam wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. A moment later, a young squire came running from the direction of Casterly Rock. It was Addam's younger brother, Joseph.
"Big brother! Uh—the Lord Duke and his Lady have arrived!"
Jon and Margaery sat inside their carriage. Margaery sat as stiff as a statue, terrified to move a muscle. Even the slightest twitch—
—sent an agonizing, exhausting ache radiating through her body.
Yet, she kept her face completely composed, fighting to maintain her perfect, dignified posture.
"Are you still sore all over?"
"Mhm." Margaery frowned as she answered him.
"Once we get inside, soak in a hot bath and eat plenty of lemons. You'll be back to normal in about a week or so."
"Oh, so my husband knows medicine now? I'd still much prefer if he was a little gentler next time," Margaery complained.
"I couldn't help it. My wife is just too beautiful, and I finally got to eat from a bowl I've been missing for over a decade. Naturally, I had to savor every last drop," Jon said, looking entirely unapologetic.
"A bowl?" Following Jon's gaze down to her own chest, Margaery's face instantly flushed bright red. She cursed him for being shameless, yet simultaneously couldn't resist leaning closer to him.
Brynden, who had been responsible for greeting them at the port, was currently riding ahead to clear the way. Seeing that they were almost there, he called out.
"My Lord, My Lady, we've arrived at Casterly Rock."
"Thank you for your trouble, Ser," Margaery replied with perfect gentleness, bumping up Brynden's good impression of her by quite a few points.
Jon gave an acknowledging grunt. Tapping into the vision of his ravens, he noticed that the welcoming committee was far larger than he had expected.
If it had just been a few hundred people, a simple wave from the carriage would have sufficed. But there were thousands of people out there, including the mountain clansmen who had trekked a thousand miles just to get to Casterly Rock. He needed to step out and greet them properly.
Soon, Jon's carriage pulled to a stop on a small ridge, roughly a hundred feet away from the waiting crowd. Every eye was locked onto the hero who had promised them rich, flat lands.
"Can you step down?"
"I can," Margaery said firmly.
Under the focus of thousands of eyes, Jon stepped out of the carriage first, then reached back to take Margaery's hand. With her entire body aching, practically every step she took was a brutal test of sheer willpower.
But when she saw the endless sea of people waiting to welcome them, the look of strained endurance on her face was quickly replaced by pure, undeniable excitement.