Riverrun
"What happened to him? Is it a side-effect of his powers? Should we tell his family?"
Elaena stood next to the sleeping Edmure. He had not woken up since yesterday afternoon. Next to her, her mother stood perfectly still—as if she were not just here, but in many places at once. Like a statue. Hearing the question, the goddess emerged from her trance and looked at her daughter. This was one of the younger among her children, and consequently, a rebellious one. The two had not met in person for centuries, communicating only occasionally.
"No, the little one is alright," her mother replied. "As alright as one can be when his foundational beliefs are being tested. This is not related to his powers or his actions, but the meaning of his life. Let him sleep for a few hours; then he will have to face the headache of finding his own answers."
"That tells me nothing. Tell me clearly: what went wrong, can it happen again, and how do we solve it? Spare me the philosophy. I never liked your way of talking—that was one of the reasons I ran away, remember?"
"Young one, being rebellious is good, but endless negativity will only breed dissatisfaction. He always believed that he knew his path best; therefore, he could continue to walk without attachments, sure about eventually reaching his destination. But the world likes to test. It asks him: What if you know the path is correct, but do not want to follow it? Can one still reach his goal? Is that goal truly important, or is the alternative good enough?"
The Weeping Lady spoke for a while, but noticing Elaena's fuming expression, she realized her daughter was about to erupt. Having lived away from the mundane for so long, communicating with others was a challenge—even with her own child. The lived experience of a higher being is so vast that simple things like affection and parenting require conscious effort. She gathered her thoughts and clarified, "Don't worry, he will get better on his own. Let us talk about you. Are you willing to visit my realm? Or are you still mad?"
"Don't pull that trick on me! Do you even remember exactly why I ran away? You must be fooling my siblings with that soothing tone, but I am not them." Elaena riled up at the memories, then calmed herself, speaking in a plain tone. "Fine, don't tell me. Edmure will. The boy likes to show off; he'll babble continuously about that philosophy of yours."
"I am glad you found a friend, but do not forget that you are one of my favorites. I do not go in person to help your siblings like this. That should tell you something." She was about to continue when Elaena cut her off hysterically.
"Then I am grateful to the way of the world that my mother found her valuable time for me! You should leave and pursue your higher mysteries; I would hate to prevent you from such important matters." The Weeping Lady simply shook her head, looked at Edmure one last time, and vanished.
In the morning, during meals, Brynden was bragging about his bout in the arena. "You should get out of your study sometimes, Hoster. You should have seen the old man. Even I had to be careful fighting him. I don't know what has gotten into his head, but he has started training in earnest. Is this your plan? Did we not decide that Lord Grell would only be present on the field to boost morale, not to actually fight at his age?"
Hoster was about to complain that he was being accused for no reason when Princess Elia walked in. She scanned the room and spoke in a mocking tone. "Where is our favorite heir? Is he still cuddling with some girl?" This morning, she had been informed that Elaena had been staying in Edmure's room since yesterday.
"Edmure is asleep; he should be up by tomorrow," Elaena answered. Before Elia could mock her further, she continued, "He hasn't slept for a month. Now, he is just catching up. Usually, he only naps during patrols on horseback and works in the smithy at nights."
"Hoster, what kind of father are you?" Princess Elia erupted. "Has House Tully fallen to such a degree that it needs a child to work this hard? No matter what he is, in the world's eyes he is but a child. Do you not care about your reputation? Never mind—I will handle his daily business. I am taking over the management of his servants."
Elia glanced at Catelyn. She was slowly taking household power from her. No matter the intention, such a move could unnecessarily sour relations. As a seasoned hostess, Catelyn understood the concerns and simply nodded in approval. In a few years, she would be the Lady of Winterfell; she knew Edmure would never let her wander around with Eddard as a mere second son's wife. She knew her brother well, so ceding power at home had no long-term bearing on her.
Hoster understood the political maneuvers of the household at a glance. Meanwhile, Brynden was still bragging about his duel with Lord Grell. Hoster sometimes thought he had done right by stealing Minisa; she had lived a better life with a schemer like him than with his pig-headed brother, who would have remained ignorant of such schemes for decades.
Somewhere in the Narrow Sea
A crew was collecting spoils on a ship while a young man directed his victorious fighters to man the vessel properly. Instead of claiming the spoils for himself, he was ensuring that their success was not wiped out by an unruly wave.
"Mi'lord, what should we do with these scum? Sell them in Essos, or throw them into the sea?" the second-in-command asked. He had noticed over the past few months that this noble was different from the others. Even at a young age, he had led them to many victories in skirmishes. Now, the man had given them their greatest victory yet: they had captured a ship. Now they had two—something the sailor had never dreamed of.
"No," the young man spoke in a tone imitating a seasoned captain. "We report to the Royal Fleet, hand over a portion of the spoils, and petition to retain the pirates. We will call them reformed men, willing to act in the interest of Westeros."
"That won't do, Mi'lord. The men won't agree. I will not betray you for the next ten years—that was our contract. But the others have no such qualms. At sea, being self-righteous, kind, or of noble birth rarely helps. Men here decide their loyalty on a daily basis."
"Then I will use my share. I will try to bribe our contact in the Royal Navy to get some sort of recognition for the crew. Perhaps in a few years, each will have at least a village reeve's position. I don't believe these men want to spend their entire lives in this god-forsaken sea. Let us depart for the nearest supply point. Interrogate the prisoners for rumors in Essos; see who can be easily recruited to our cause. For the truly tough, the sea will accommodate their final rest."
The second-in-command nodded; they had been successful so far, and he believed he could convince the crew. The young man went to the side of the ship, gazing west and muttering to himself. "Cat must have married by now. It is a pity I wasn't good enough for her. Not yet. But that brat was right: legitimacy is our greatest asset. In a few years, I will stand before the nobility without feeling inferior. As Lord Petyr Baelish."