13 Farewells (2)

The 600 first words are the same as the last chapter, the next 1300 are new.

***

[Several days later]

[Third person's POV]

***

Over the course of nearly seven years of constantly increasing suffering, William senior overcame all the hardships that his illness had placed upon his path.

He had accepted to sacrifice his love of meat and cheese for a diet involving healthier and more easily digestible aliments...

He had endured the pain that was assaulting his stomach ever more violently as the days went by (so much so that he required always more milk of the poppy to sleep properly)...

He had coped with the fact that his body was getting scrawnier and weaker, which was perhaps the easiest thing to bear in all that was happening to him because his already paralyzed and skeletal legs (long before his illness had manifested itself) had accustomed him to this process...

And finally, he had temporarily resigned himself to the role of a mere spectator of his own life and that of his family.

All this he had done to gain a maximum of extra time on this world, a precious time that he had used to observe and judge his descendants (except Catelyn and Lysa) in order to prepare in advance the last words he would have for each of them...

William knew his sons and grandson well enough to know that those words could have a great impact on them, and he intended to take advantage of that to set them on the path he considered most beneficial to the future of House Tully.

Brynden was fulfilling his role as father and uncle perfectly, but he was keeping himself a bit too far away from anything that wasn't involving swords even though his opinions on subjects like politics and economics were rarely irrelevant...

William intended to push him to take a greater interest in these matters to further shoulder Hoster.

Speaking of the latter, it was clear to William that the role of Lord of House Tully and the Riverlands was better suited to his eldest son than to himself...

The economic rise of the House Tully wasn't only the result of William's grandson's ideas but also of Hoster's ability to implement them...

However, although when it came to earning gold Hoster's ears were wide open, it wasn't at all the case when it came to remarks about the army of their House as well as the nature of their relationship with some of their bannermen, which were subjects on which he simply didn't accept any criticism or suggestion...

For this reason, William would make sure to remind him of the definition of the word 'humility'.

Lying, manipulating, he wasn't proud of it but William senior was also willing to resort to these things to get his sons to do what he expected of them if his honest opinion wasn't enough to convince them...

As for his grandson...

It was both the easiest and the hardest part because, on the one hand, William senior considered that junior was already on the right track and that he didn't have to lie to him, and on the other, he knew that their conversation would be by far the longest and perhaps the most important of all.

'Keep your composure...' William senior told himself as he felt his heart racing while he was thinking about the repercussions of his upcoming actions, '...and hold on a little longer.'

A bit of blood was staining his now graying beard, his complexion was so pale that one could believe he was already nothing more than a lifeless body but in contrast to his pitiful appearance, William senior's mind was still sharp, sharp enough to know that he had only a few hours left...

***

[2 hours later]

[William senior's POV]

***

The first person I chose to see before passing away was Hoster, and just like Brynden and William, I had expressly demanded to see him alone so that what we were going to say to each other would remain between us (hopefully).

Moving around being impossible for me now more than ever, the last meeting between him and I was taking place in my stinking bedroom which I hadn't left for moons.

Lately, Hoster's visits had been getting rarer and rarer, so I assumed before he even arrived that his behavior would be that of a son full of guilt for not spending more time with his father when he had the chance, and his demeanor when he walked into the room was consistent with that...

Eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, he was ashamed to face me, it showed.

As far as I was concerned, I didn't blame him for having plunged himself entirely into his duties, but if his guilt could help me achieve my goals I would exploit it...

I cleared my throat more than necessary and took a bitter tone that I wanted to be as realistic as possible, "I would have... appreciated a less... tardive visit." I said, taking several deep breaths in the course of my sentence so as not to find myself out of breath at the end of it.

Hoster didn't answer right away, he sat on the stool next to my bed and picked up the cloth that was immersed in the basin of water on my bedside before that, "I'm aware that most of the times I wasn't there for you when you needed it and I'm sorry for that, but the future of our House comes first." He justified himself while wringing out the cloth.

I frowned as if I was greatly offended, "Aye... I agree with that... however... a visit from time to time... was it too much to ask?" I retorted, which had the effect of silencing Hoster.

Acknowledging that if I continued on this path, Hoster would no longer be responsive to what I was going to say, I nuanced my approach, "*Sigh*, I don't blame you... that much. In truth... it's not as if... I had been really alone." I relativized with a soft glint in my eyes that I didn't need to fake.

Undoubtedly seeing in my words a way to change the subject for the better, Hoster grabbed the pole I was holding out to him, "He is a good child." He said with fondness in his voice, having understood that I was referring to William in particular when I said that I hadn't been that lonely.

I snorted, "Yes. He is. That... and much more." I corrected him, thus reigniting a topic of debate that had been much discussed among us during the last 2 years.

Hoster raised his voice, fully aware at the insinuation I made, "My succession isn't the last subject of conversation I would like to have with you, Father."

I didn't try to match his commanding tone to answer him so as not to provoke a conflict and to preserve my voice, instead I replied calmly, "Don't... deny me that Hoster. I need... to have this... conversation to depart... peacefully."

My son looked at me for a long time with a firm countenance, but his determination to stand up to me ultimately faded, I saw it in his expression which was becoming softer and softer as the seconds passed, then he confirmed it, "As you wish Father." He gave up with apparent reluctance.

I took his words as an authorization to speak without detour, "If the child... that Minisa... is going to give birth to... happens to be a boy... what will you do... in consequence?" I asked while staring deeply at Hoster in an attempt to detect the slightest hint of a lie in what he was about to respond to me.

At first, Hoster's gaze was slightly evasive and hesitant, which infuriated me because I concluded from this that he was going to tell me what I wanted to hear without meaning a single word of it, but at some point, in what must have been an impulse of clarity, I saw his face brightening up as if he had just freed himself from a weight, so I understood that he was going to be sincere...

"If it's a boy... then he will replace me when the time comes." My son confessed with a gaze conveying self-righteousness and certitude.

I felt myself losing a few of the hours I had left in an instant...

How could he possibly say something that fucking foolish to me? How could he believe for a second that it was the right choice?

I was shaking with anger, ready to yell at Hoster (or at least try) to express the full extent of my frustration, however, his systematic answer to this kind of behavior is to get defensive, so again, I chose another approach...

I swallowed my wrath, "If William doesn't become... Lord of the Riverlands... what will be his role... in the future?" I inquired without showing any sign of judgment.

"The same he has now except that instead of assisting me, he will assist my son." Hoster blurted out immediately, showing thus to what extent this idea was set in stone for him.

I frowned, no longer capable of hiding physically and verbally my dissatisfaction, I knew I had to use measured terms, but right now I couldn't help but let my emotions spill over, "William isn't devoid... of ambition. What makes you think... he will settle for only that?" I asked with a cynical tone.

Hoster looked at me with a hint of surprise, as if he was taken aback by what I had just told him, which was worrying because it would mean that he had sincerely not seriously considered this possibility, "Family, duty, honor. If the motto of our House has any value to him then he will settle for that." He answered me with a slight annoyance, oversimplifying the problem.

At this point I was just disappointed, disappointed in Hoster for taking William's talent for granted, disappointed that he was limiting his potential to a gold maker and nothing else...

I was now well aware that convincing him otherwise would be almost impossible based on his reasoning and how stubborn he could be, but I was still going to try one last time before considering more extreme solutions, "So if William... were to express... the desire to replace you... you would ask him... to give up that ambition... for the sake of our House... and only... for the sake of our House?" I inquired.

Hoster's face took on a doubtful countenance as if he realized that I was setting a trap for him with this question, "Yes." He responded after a non-negligible time and without much conviction.

My gaze turned harsh, "Then explain to me... explain to me in what way... this decision is a good... development for our House?" I demanded, involuntarily spitting out a small string of blood at the end of my sentence.

Hoster stared emotionlessly at the corner of my mouth, then looked up at my face, which he spent a few seconds staring at in the same way before standing up from his stool...

When I saw him put the wet cloth he had been holding in his left hand since earlier back into the basin of water, I immediately guessed what he wanted to do, which made me even more furious, "You better... Not!" I warned him with a painfull shout as he was making his way to the door.

When Hoster stopped dead in front of the door, I thought that hearing me yell had an impact on him, but instead of that he just told me something to ease his conscience before leaving, "Father. I love you."