As he looked at the dumbstruck Clay, the smile suddenly vanished from Earl Wyman's face, leaving none of his earlier kindly air. He set the wine bottle down on the table with a clunk and said sternly to Clay:
"Clay Manderly, you shouldn't be surprised. If you're surprised now, it means you have no idea how important you are to all of House Manderly!"
"In front of Lord Stark, I had to uphold House Manderly's image. Do you have any idea how relieved I was when His Grace had you thrown into the dungeon for your own protection after you slashed that Lannister?"
"What are you staring at? Were you really counting on a trial by combat, on the gods to give you justice and fairness? Never mind what His Grace was thinking. Let me tell you, if the Lannisters really made an issue of it, His Grace wouldn't turn against them for your sake. You aren't worth that yet!"
"And let me tell you something else. Don't expect any fairness or justice from the royal court or those southerners. If I didn't still have an army worth reckoning with, you would have gone to meet the gods long ago."
The old man dragged Clay over to the window, pointed at the bustling harbor outside, and said coldly:
"Think about your own situation. Your father and your uncle are brutes who only know how to fight. Expecting them to manage a city this big is a pipe dream. As for your elder and younger sisters, the best outcome for them is to marry well and give White Harbor an ally or two with whom we can offer mutual aid."
"Understand your position. You are House Manderly's best heir, and its only heir. You became a warrior of lost Valyria without my permission. The water has already frozen solid, so I won't say any more about it, but next time you have any similar ideas, you must tell me!"
The old man pointed at his graying hair and continued, breathing heavily:
"I'm already sixty. There's no telling when I might return to the gods' embrace. The White Sea is the best tool you have for laying your plans and maneuvering White Harbor into the most suitable position. You must take it over!"
Clay fell silent. Until just then, he had still approached things with something of a carefree, playful attitude. Subconsciously, he had never grasped what the title of heir to House Manderly actually meant.
Whether he was slashing a Lannister in anger or dealing with the assassin, he had acted on his own feelings first, never realizing that his every word and deed represented the immense House Manderly, which had held White Harbor for over a thousand years.
The old man wasn't worried about him drawing on the family's strength and gaining the corresponding authority. Quite the opposite: he was afraid Clay would charge ahead on his own, neither knowing how nor even thinking to use the family's strength. As the old man had just said, he was the only heir. What harm was there in giving him some authority?
Now that he understood, he would bow his head and admit his mistake. Clay said meekly:
"I understand, Grandfather. Next time, I'll be sure to consult the family."
With a couple of grunts, Earl Wyman let Clay off and settled his broad body back into the chair. Clay could clearly hear the wood groaning.
This time, the old man didn't pick up the wine bottle again. Instead, his gaze drifted out the window.
"Did you know? While you were still aboard the ship crossing the Narrow Sea back to Westeros, that old fellow Marlon and I were already considering your marriage."
Marriage? What the hell? How had they jumped to that?
"While you were away from White Harbor, I received an invitation from House Frey. They invited you to the Twins to attend the Name Day of Lord Walder Frey's who-knows-how-many-th child. Clearly, they want to see whether they can marry one of their Frey girls to you."
Although it was a lot to take in, Clay nodded as calmly as he could. Once he truly thought of himself as the heir to White Harbor, he realized how perfectly reasonable this was.
To nobles throughout the Seven Kingdoms, apart from the seven great ruling houses and the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands, Clay was undoubtedly an excellent marriage prospect as the heir to a great noble house. White Harbor's standing was equivalent to that of House Hightower of Oldtown, minus the Citadel.
"Then, Grandfather, how did you reply?" Clay asked cautiously.
Although he knew there would be plenty of this sort of thing in the future, he still found it a little hard to accept being set up for marriage the moment he returned home, especially with House Frey, of whom he had an extremely poor impression.
Giving him a brief glance, Earl Wyman stretched his mouth and said slowly:
"I replied to the Late Lord Frey, telling him you were still at Winterfell and that I would give him an answer once you returned."
"Don't tell me what you think. Hear me out first." Earl Wyman raised a hand to interrupt his grandson, who was about to speak.
"My suggestion is that you write Lord Walder Frey a letter right now. I can write it for you, too. You had best make this trip. Lord Walder has never been generous-minded for a single day of his ninety-odd years."
"But you're only going to show his lordship due respect. His family's castle is in far too important a location, after all. Keep that thing in your breeches under control. It isn't time for it to serve its purpose yet."
The old man's words were rather crude, but Clay understood what he meant. The lord of the Twins, who had earned the name "the Late Lord Frey," actually wielded considerable influence, but his reputation stank. So Clay had to go, but the old man had no interest whatsoever in the women of House Frey.
The old man's words probably reflected the views of most northern nobles. Thinking of how Robb Stark would later break his oath and tear up his marriage pact with House Frey, Clay suspected this was part of the reason.
Only Robb hadn't expected old Frey's vindictiveness to run so deep. Thus, the undefeated Young Wolf had his heart pierced at a wedding feast by a dagger bearing the Lannisters' regards, bringing about the Red Wedding that changed the course of the entire war.
Clay had little room to resist this. He could only nod in agreement, while also asking himself what sort of person he would ultimately choose.
If it really were up to him, he would choose between Daenerys and Margaery Tyrell without hesitation. His reasons would be things like their beauty, but Clay knew perfectly well that those were all excuses.
He had never met Daenerys Targaryen, nor had he met Margaery Tyrell. He had no idea what either of them looked like. Rather than saying he liked some vague description of their beauty, it would be more accurate to say he liked the titles they bore.
Queen consort or reigning queen-the desire to conquer was the primary driving force.
Conversely, he was currently no more than the heir to White Harbor. Even if he did have such ideas, he could only keep them hidden in his heart. Most noblemen and noblewomen in this world were creatures of self-interest, especially the great nobles. There weren't so many people recklessly pursuing love.
When the day came that Clay commanded an army of a hundred thousand and had so many titles that reciting them would wear someone's lips out, he would probably be able to decide his own marriage freely. For now? He would have to put up with it...
Posting first and fixing typos afterward. Doge face to save my skin!
Let's also talk about the female lead. Speaking personally, of course I celebrate freely chosen love-putting up my defenses first-but the world of Game of Thrones, intentionally or otherwise, keeps demonstrating one fact: love between nobles who disregard their families doesn't end well. Think about what sparked the War of the Usurper and how Robb Stark ended up. Both make that same point.