The trout of Riverrun
The outline of Pinkmaiden gradually shrank at the stern of the ship, and the Red Fork flowed like a blue ribbon, carrying Daemon's fleet slowly eastward. The river was indeed as winding as rumored, and the muddy riverbed could be seen in the ripples left by the oars. Occasionally, reeds would brush past the side of the ship, startling flocks of water birds.
"That's Red Deer Island." Larys Strong pointed to a lush sandbar to his left, feeding his gray donkey. Red deer on the island were grazing on the grass. "I've heard that the ancestors of House Trout once ambushed the Lannister Golden Lions, who were then King Casterly Rock, on the island and lured them into the shallows."
Daemon, leaning on the gunwale, looked out and saw that the terrain on the west bank of the Red Fork was clearly higher than that on the east bank, House Bracken flag was faintly visible on the distant hills.
As you travel downstream, the river gradually widens, but the current slows down considerably, creating ripples wherever the boat goes, like crumpled silver foil.
"That's Mummer's Ford up ahead," Myles Rivers suddenly said, pointing to a wide expanse of water. "My father said that opera troupes used to set up stages here, and later it became a ferry crossing."
As the fleet passed through Mummer's Ford, they could see merchant ships moored on the shore, and fishermen unloading their freshly caught trout ashore, their shouts carried on the wind. Daemon thought of the House Tully crest and couldn't help but smile—the trout in this river seemed to be their family's living advertisement.
As evening fell, the outline of Riverrun finally appeared at the confluence of the rivers.
The two rivers embrace here, the rapids of the Tumblestone and the gentle flow of the Red Fork creating white waves, while Riverrun is like a wedge, firmly embedded between the two rivers.
The triangular castle rises from the water, its sandstone walls glowing a warm red in the setting sun. Although the moat on the west side is not yet filled with water, one can imagine its imposing grandeur when it is flooded.
"That's the waterwheel tower." Gael pointed to a corner of the castle, where ivy climbed the tower and swayed in the wind, while the huge waterwheel turned slowly with the flow of the Tumblestone. "Just like my mother used to tell me, it's like Giants's toy."
As the fleet approached the water gate, Daemon finally saw the heavy steel lock, its lower half covered in reddish-brown rust, clearly indicating it had been submerged in water for years. Several boatmen were untying ropes from the iron rings, preparing to guide the fleet through the arch.
"Your Highnesses, Prince Daemon! Your Gael, Princess Geri!" A loud voice came from the waterside steps.
Duke Grover Tully stood at the top of the steps, wearing a red and blue striped silk coat with leaping trout embroidered in silver thread on the chest. Behind him was a group of children, the older ones already showing signs of being teenagers, while the younger ones were still being held in the arms of maids, lined up like a string of candied hawthorns.
"Welcome to Riverrun!" Grover opened his arms wide, his smile hearty. "Thank you, Your Highness, for mediating this dispute between the House Bracken and House Blackwood. The entire House Tully has been eagerly awaiting your arrival!"
As Daemon stepped onto the stairs, a little red-haired girl with pigtails rushed towards him. Damon remembered this girl; she had accompanied the Duke to King's Landing for the tournament where Rhaenyra was born last year, and at only seven years old, she dared to ride a pony all by herself.
She held up a wooden trout in her hand. "Your Highness, this is for you!" Behind her followed a chubby-faced boy, clutching a reed leaf, probably trying to play a tune, but only producing a buzzing sound.
"This is my youngest daughter, Leia. You should have seen her at the tournament in King's Landing's Landing last year," Grover introduced with a smile. "That's my brother's third son, Edmure. There are a whole bunch more, but I won't introduce them all, lest Your Highness get them mixed up."
Upon entering the castle, Daemon paid special attention to the man-made moat; the gears of the sluice gate gleamed metallically in the sunlight, clearly in excellent condition. The crenellations and arrow slits on the sandstone walls were arranged in a pleasing pattern, and the shadows of the towers perfectly covered the mudflats on the opposite bank—no wonder it could withstand the attacks of the Kingdom of the Rock.
The main hall of Riverrun was simpler than I had imagined, yet it exuded a profound sense of history. The triangular structure of the main castle made the space feel particularly compact. The House Tully's high seat was located at the north end of the hall, and a copper bell hung in the room above. It was said that at the Duke's command, servants would arrive immediately. Grover invited everyone to sit down, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by the laughter of children.
"I'm sorry," the Duke said with a smile, waving his hand, his eyes full of helplessness and doting affection, "The house is just too lively."
A banquet had already been set up in the hall, with a long table stretching from the head of the table all the way to the door, piled high with roasted wild boar, stewed trout, and candied apples. House Tully's relatives sat close together, some with white hair, others with toddlers just learning to walk, their laughter and chatter like the bubbling broth in a pot.
"Try this." Grover had a maid hand Daemon a bowl of fish soup, the milky white broth floating with emerald green herbs. "Red Fork trout, stewed with the flowing water of the Tumblestone, is Riverrun's specialty."
Daemon took a sip, the delicious flavor spreading across his tongue. Grover seized the opportunity to recount his family's history, from Axel Tully building the castle to how they held their ground during the Andals invasion, his tone brimming with pride. "We House Tully have no grand ambitions. Guarding these two rivers and protecting our families is enough."
He pointed to the family crest on the wall. "Family, responsibility, honor"—these six words are our roots.
Outside the window, the setting sun casts its golden light upon the surface of the Red Fork. The waterwheel continues to turn, its sound blending into the unchanging pulse of the Riverrun.
During the meal, Leia led several children to Daemon's side, pestering him to tell them the story of the Glutton.
Daemon was happy to steal a few moments of peace and quiet to fool around with the children, laughing and gesturing the shape of the famous Black Dragon, which made the children gasp in surprise.
Gael and Mysaria sat to the side, watching the lively scene, smiles appearing on their faces.
Daemon Targaryen was unusually quiet; this was the first time he hadn't bothered the women of his master's household since he left Saltpans to deliver the message and followed Daemon's party.
The handsome, arrogant face of the seventeen-year-old boy was unusually etched with worry; for the first time since entering the world of romance, he began to doubt his own charm.
At this moment, he exuded a melancholy aura. His silver hair and purple eyes, combined with that melancholy, could not conceal his handsome and unrestrained face. Unbeknownst to him, he had fiercely attracted the attention of the red-haired daughters of the House Tully.
After all, while Prince Daemon, surrounded by children, was more handsome and alluring, the princess and her sweet, platinum-haired maidservant beside him seemed to be keeping a close eye on him.
Oh, and there's that woman with black hair and green eyes not far from the prince. Her gaze towards the prince isn't intimidating, but her ample figure inevitably prompts the red-haired women of the Trout family to make comparisons.
"If Your Highness doesn't mind, please stay in Riverrun for a few more days," Grover, raising his wine glass. "Let the children learn from you, and let me fulfill my duty as a host."
Daemon watched the sky darken outside the window and listened to the creaking of the waterwheel in the distance. Suddenly, he felt that this pilgrimage didn't need to be rushed. Since it was a pilgrimage to the Seven Kingdoms, why rush every day? What harm would it do to let the group relax for a few more days? He raised his wine glass and clinked it with Grover's. "Very well, then we'll have to trouble Your Grace."
As evening fell and the Riverrun was shrouded in darkness, the waterwheels continued to turn tirelessly, drawing water from the Tumblestone into the water gate.
The lights inside the castle, like scattered stars, echoed the fishing lights on the Red Fork.
Daemon stood on the east-facing balcony of the main castle, gazing at the shimmering waters where the two rivers met. Coming here again today, he suddenly understood why the House Tully had been able to stand here for a thousand years—the river carried not only water, but also the family's bloodline and heritage.
Tomorrow, perhaps I can visit that windowless dungeon, or walk along the waterside steps and touch the stone steps worn smooth by time. After all, the journey through the Seven Kingdoms is still long, and it wouldn't be bad to stop occasionally and listen to the sound of the river.