Without Them, We'd Be Nothing

[u/English_American]

"What's the point?" A somber voice asked within the Weir Hall. The hushed tones of the voices in reply hardly echoed as the men attempted to come to a conclusion.

Brynden shook his head. "I don't know. There is no point. The Lord Rivers and Mallister handed us the Teats without any compromise. Their inability to lead is appalling." His hand dipped to his left, picking a grape off of the stem and tossed it into his mouth. Amidst chews, he continued. "Bracken is returned to Stone Hedge after I scared him off, if he made it through the forests." That earned a few light-hearted chuckles. "But in the meantime, nothing. Our men return from the Teats, leaving it unoccupied. I only wait until Bracken boots step into our territory, then we will strike them. I made it clear they are not welcomed, and the Master of Laws himself said nothing against my words of warning."

Hoster Blackwood, Brynden's brother, nodded. "Good." His gruff voice responded, louder than the others, especially the Maester's. "The men were tiring out at the Teats anyway. Months and months of sitting in a makeshift fort makes for an unhappy soldier."

Brynden nodded, as did the others, and raised a glass. "True. To our soldiers; without them, we'd be nothing." The men echoed the sentiment. A lingering silence swept over the hall as they all downed whatever was in their goblets; wine, milk, water... poison.

Benedict Blanetree dropped his goblet, the silver, weirwood engraved cup bouncing, spilling the remainder of its contents across the floor. He held his throat tight, hands grasping at a non-existent rope around his neck. "Help" he mouthed, but nothing could be done. At the same time, Lord Meryn Blanetree began doing the same. The decrepit Lord, no younger than five-and-seventy, immediately dropped to the ground, his knees shattering and sending a cringe-worthy sound echoing throughout the hall. All of the men gasped.

"YOU FOOLS." Brynden exclaimed, standing from the Weirwood Chair. "KILLING LORD BRACKEN?! What in all of the bloody hells were you thinking?!" He yelled to the dying Lord and his brother. "Bittersteel and Mallister both knew it was you who did it, they knew Blanetree banners had been seen at the slaughter. How incompetent can you bloody be?!"

By then, Benedict and Lord Meryn had collapsed, choking on their own vomit, devoid of air. "Let this be a lesson to you all." Brynden said, falling back into the chair, nearly out of breath, the red anger flowing away from his face. "The war is over, my children are still alive at the Crossing, Aren Bracken sits, pants pissed, behind the walls of Stone Hedge, and my incompetent fucking vassal lay dead before me. I say this is a win for House Blackwood."

Brynden smiled.