Chapter X: The Second Son

In the distance, a Direwolf howled as the bitter cold of midnight descended upon the Ironwood.

"How much further must we go, brother?" Ethan whined from a few feet behind, sounding breathless after almost an hour long trek through the Ironwood.

Asher Forrester groaned, his body crying in pain against the weight he carried over his shoulders. "Stop complaining," he urged his younger brother. "You're not the one carrying two a hundred pound corpse over your shoulders." He sighed. "By the Gods, how many Blueberry tarts did Lord Gryff gobble up at the last feast to make him so heavy?"

"His muscle is what makes him heavy, Asher," Ethan assured him. "Gryff Whitehill was a strong man. He is said to have wrestled with bears and wolves armed only with his two hands," Ethan claimed, but Asher was not as convinced. The Lord of House Whitehill did not seem so strong now that his body rested limply over Asher's shoulders.

"If he was as strong as you say, then you did well to defeat him," Asher told him, his voice bearing a hint of respect, which seemed to take Ethan by surprise, so much so that the boy paused in his tracks. Asher turned to face him, even though the man now felt as though he was being crushed under the weight over his shoulders.

"Defeat him?" Ethan echoed, a confused expression on his face. "I told you back in Talia's bedchamber, I murdered this man. I crept up behind him and stabbed him in the heart." Ethan bowed his head. Ashamed, he couldn't look his brother in the eyes. "I used a coward's tactic. I'm no warrior like you," Ethan confessed. "I don't deserve to be called 'Ethan the Brave'."

Asher gazed upon his brother, noticing for the first time the man that he had become.

Carefully, he lowered the body from over his shoulders down to the ground beneath their feet. Lord Gryff's body was limp and lifeless, his face pale as moonlight. Then, Asher returned his gaze to Ethan. Slowly, he approached his brother before reaching out and embracing Ethan in a hug.

"You risked your life to save your sister without hesitation," Asher reminded him, feeling his brother's cold breath against his breastplate. "You are the bravest man in the whole of Ironrath, and I am proud to have you as a brother."

When Asher stepped back, he saw his brother smile. "Thank you, Asher," Ethan said warmly. "I'm glad you're back home. Truly," he added. "We could use more friendly faces around here."

"By the sound of it, you could use more Forresters," Asher said. Suddenly, his expression turned to one of sorrow. "I'm so sorry about Father," he told Ethan, sincerely. "We may have had our differences, Father and I, but he was a great man and a noble warrior. Nobody can take that away from him." Not even the Whitehills, he continued in his own head, and one day, they'll pay in blood for their actions.

"You should have been there," Ethan fired back at him, a hint of contempt in his voice. "You should have been there, at the Twins, fighting alongside Father and Rodrik when they needed you most." Ethan's voice began to tremble, as did he himself. "Now, they're both dead..."

Asher placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. "We don't know that for sure," he reminded his brother. "As we sailed back to Westeros, Malcolm told me that Rodrik's body was never recovered from the slaughter at the Twins. Neither was Norren's, for that matter. They may both still be out there, perhaps with even more Forrester men that we believed dead."

Ethan nodded. "Perhaps," he uttered. "Either way, the Whitehills will pay for their crimes."

"Aye," Asher agreed. "One murder at a time though, aye, brother?" He mocked, his stone cold expression turning into a smile. "Speaking of which," he said, moving swiftly on to the dead Whitehill lying between them. "Perhaps it's time we buried our Lordship," he suggested as he reached out with his hand towards Ethan. "Hand me the shovel would you, brother?"

It took them an hour to bury Gryff Whitehill's body deep enough under the Ironwood that Asher could be confident the young lord would never be found. Before shovelling the first mound of dirt onto the corpse, Ethan grabbed Gryff's sword, deciding he the Lord of Whitehill would have to do without in in whatever afterlife awaited him.

Secretly, Asher wondered whether Duncan Tuttle might also have been buried somewhere nearby. He did not, however, share these thoughts with Ethan.

Although the deaths of his father and the suspected deaths of Rodrik, Norren and many other Forrester men had come as a shock to Asher upon his arrival at Ironrath, it had been the death of Duncan that had saddened Asher the most. The former Castellan had been like a father to Asher. Duncan had come to his defence when Asher had been branded a traitor after falling in love with Gwyn Whitehill, daughter of Lord Ludd Whitehill. He may even have been the reason the second son of House Forrester avoided a death sentence, and was offered the option of exile instead.

Another hour passed, and although their path had been blinded by the seemingly endless darkness of that autumn night, Asher and Ethan finally emerged from the Ironwood, facing the castle of Ironrath, with Gryff Whitehill now nothing more than a buried secret that was far behind them.

Or so they thought.

"So, what now?" Ethan finally asked, turning his attention to his elder brother. It was an inevitable question, and one Asher had been awaiting for the entirety of their hour journey back to Ironrath.

"Now," he began, "you go back to your sister," he instructed his brother. "She'll be frightened, and the last thing she needs right now is to be alone." He paused, stroking his chin as his eyes moved between the different sections of the castle. "Not to mention, as far as I'm aware, you're supposed to be dead. The last thing we need is for you to go wandering around the hallways of Ironrath like a dead man walking, frightening the servants and drawing necessary attention to us."

Ethan nodded. "Agreed." A stern expression descended upon his face. "Listen, Asher, about me and Talia," he began, his trembling voice making a return, "There's something I think you should-"

"I don't want to hear it," Asher interrupted, silencing Ethan. "Frankly, it's none of my business anyway," he added. "I've always suspected there was something between you and Talia. Whether it's purely platonic, I couldn't say, and I don't want to know." There was a pause, but Ethan remained silent. "As long as you two are happy, that's all I care about."

Ethan nodded again, reading his brother loud and clear. Once the moment had passed, he asked the next inevitable question, "What about you?" What are you going to do?"

"Well," he began, "as of right now, you, Talia and Malcolm are the only people in Ironrath that are aware of my presence here, and, for now, I'd prefer it to stay that way," Asher decided out loud. "The last thing we need right now is for the Whitehills to suspect some kind of uprising. Revealing myself would just get people killed." He turned his gaze from Ironrath to his brother. "I don't suppose there's any place around here an exiled son might be able to lay low for a while?" He asked with a lopsided grin on his face.

Though the question had been, to Ethan's understanding, rhetorical, he believed he knew just the place. "The Dungeon" he blurted out almost too loudly. "Duncan hid me in a cell in the dungeon underneath Ironrath for weeks before you arrived, and not a single guard, Forrester nor Whitehill, so much as set foot down there that entire time." Ethan stuttered. He seemed to like the idea of having his long lost brother now residing only a couple of floors beneath him. "It's not the most comfortable of places to spend the night, and I can't promise you'll like the smell, but-"

"I'm sure it will suffice," Asher said. Paying less attention to his brother, Asher's focus had been drawn to a couple of shadows emerging from the courtyard. "Ethan," he called with a whisper before gesturing his brother with a point of his finger to the two men-at-arms, clad in iron armour, that stood, their hands on their swords, guarding the rear entrance to Ironrath. The larger of the two men was grasping a banner almost twice his size.

In the torchlight, Asher, with a squint of his eyes, recognised the sigil the banner displayed: a row of hills sitting under a four-pointed star, both coloured in white, against a backdrop of blue.

The sigil of House Whitehill.

"Seven Hells," Asher cursed. "These men are no friends of ours," he revealed to Ethan, whose disappointment was just as bitter.

Ethan turned to his brother. "Are we in trouble?" He asked in a panic.

"No," Asher dismissed, reassuring Ethan. "No, we're not in trouble. At least, not yet." Asher continued to gaze at the two men-at-arms. When he realised that the larger of the two men was returning his gaze, however, Asher felt his heart sink.

"Oi! You!" The man-at-arms barked from the courtyard, about thirty feet from where Asher and Ethan stood, where they had hoped the shade of the trees would hide them. "Get over here!"

"Okay, now we're in trouble," Asher announced, stating the obvious.

The two men-at-arms were approaching them now. The sound of iron scraping iron echoes across the courtyard as they drew their swords from their sheaths.

Ethan and Asher remained still, as though hoping they would disappear back into the shadows.

Such was not the case, and the two men-at-arms continued their approach, now mere meters from them, swords in their hands.

As if to frighten the two Whitehill soldier, Asher drew his own longsword, the sound of Valyrian Steel ringing out as he did so. A sound that was impossible to mistake.

"Draw your sword," Asher advised his brother as the two soldiers advanced.

Ethan offered him a look of desperate confusion. "What?" He asked, his voice trembling once more.

"You want to make the Whitehills pay for what they've done to our family?" Asher asked his brother as his grip on his own sword tightened. "Now's your chance."

Asher smiled. "It's time to take back Ironrath."

END OF CHAPTER TEN.

Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter guys, but I hope the wait was worth it!

By now, the latest episode in Telltale's video game series has been released, but I hope that won't stop you guys from reading. Between Ethan being alive thanks to the North Grove, and Asher coming home early to kick some Whitehill butt, this story is obviously very different to what Telltale are telling in their episodic series, so I hope you guys will stick around, especially since I still have so much cool stuff planned for this story; stuff that I've been planning for a while and can't wait to share with you guys!

If you haven't already (or even if you have, for that matter!) please leave a REVIEW below, as I always find it helpful to hear people's thoughts on the story, and it really gives me the motivation I need to get writing!

The next chapter is a pretty big on, so it's going to take some time, but hopefully it'll be worth it. The Battle of Ironrath has begun, and to be able to save it, Ethan is going to have to make a tough decision.

-George