CATELYN

The rain pelted down on the sea of tents. Twenty-five thousand Northmen and thirty thousand Riverlanders were camped outside the huge sprawling castle that was Riverrun. There was a sense of unease about the men, each one as different as the arms on their surcoats. Sword hands twitched constantly, and there were many rumours about where they were headed next.

The army of Robb Stark was itching to fight.

Catelyn Stark felt hundreds of eyes upon her as she rode up to the gates. Behind her was a score of well-armoured knights. Alongside her rode a huge person clad in thick plate armour.

As Catelyn arrived at the huge oak door, it swung slowly open to greet her. Three men walked out. In the centre was her son, Robb Stark, The King in the North. He wore a long black cloak and a boiled-leather tunic. Belted to his hip was his longsword. Prowling at his heels was the huge grey direwolf, Grey Wind. Only a year old, yet standing as tall as her son, Cat felt shivers run down her spine at the sight of the direwolf, even now. On Robb's left was Cat's uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. The Blackfish was an old man by now, his once auburn mane of hair was now a drizzly grey. He wore black, as was his custom. Catelyn knew that he did not like being here; he'd quit Riverrun before the War of the Ninepenny Kings, decades ago. Being back only brought sour memories. On Robb's right was Ser Edmure Tully, Catelyn's younger brother and heir to Riverrun. His long face was melancholic as ever. Edmure was not the brightest of the Tully children, and that was saying something. Even Lysa made better decisions. Cat didn't need to ask about the health of her father. She knew from the faces that something wasn't right.

Catelyn dismounted, as did the knights around her. She walked to her son first, and embraced him. He had grown stronger, she could feel it in his arms, but his eyes were sadder than when she saw him last.

"How are you Mother?" he asked, "We heard news that Renly –"

"Renly Baratheon is dead," Catelyn replied, "His brother Stannis now holds the Stormlands."

"He sent a raven." Robb said, his voice cold as ice, "He sent a raven commanding me to bend the knee. I sent one back telling him to prepare his men."

Catelyn took that moment to appreciate how old her son looked. No longer was he the babe she fed at her breast. No longer was he the boy who played with wooden swords in the godswood. He was six-and-ten, a man grown. On his chin grew a beard of thick auburn hair, so much like his father's. With it, he looks less like a Tully, Catelyn thought; He's a Northman now, in blood and in body. On his head was the Crown of the North, a circle of black iron with spikes wrought in the shape of longswords.

"Robb, that was unwise."

He ignored her, "Come inside. You must see your father."

"Robb –"

"We'll talk later."

Catelyn was about to object, but stopped herself just as quickly. She dismissed the knights who followed her, all but the tall person beside her. She climbed the steps quickly. Her father – Lord Hoster Tully – was an old man, and an ill one. He had fallen ill two years ago, and Cat had not seen him for nearly a decade.

Behind her, Brienne of Tarth, Cat's sworn sword, took off her helmet. The woman was as homely as she was good with a sword, with lank blonde hair and cool grey eyes. She had been one of Renly's Rainbow Guard, and had been present when the King in Highgarden was slain. She had sworn herself to Catelyn as they rode out of the camp, fearing the wrath of Renly's bannermen.

Hoster's room was at the top of the highest tower of Riverrun. Catelyn bade Brienne wait outside, then opened the door slowly. At first, she thought she had arrived at the wrong room. Then she heard his voice.

"Lysa? Lysa, is that you?"

Cat opened the door fully and walked in. What she saw made her heart stop. Hoster Tully was less than a shrivelled relic of the man he once was. He'd halved his weight, and his beard had grown wild in his illness. His hair had gone snow-white, and his features were sunken, his skin pallid. Catelyn sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at her with rheumy eyes.

"Lysa, I'm so sorry."

"No, Father." Catelyn clasped his hands. When did you get so small? "It's Cat. Your Cat."

"Lysa? Seven save me, I'm so sorry, Lysa."

"His mind slips further every day."

Cat looked round, and saw the Blackfish standing by the door, his eyes deep and blue and sad.

"Is – is there any stopping it?"

The Blackfish shook his head, "The maesters have tried everything. I'm his own brother, but he doesn't even know my name." He strode over, and put his arm around Cat's shoulder, "Illness of the body is cruel enough. Why did the gods curse us with addled minds too?"

The two Tullys sat in silence for several minutes, just watching the rise of old Lord Hoster's chest as he breathed slowly. Tears began to prick at Cat's eyes before Brynden squeezed her shoulder.

"We must go down to my brother's solar," he said, his voice etched with sadness, "Robb has requested you at his war council."

Cat wiped her eyes, squeezed her father's hand by way of farewell, and walked downstairs accompanied by her uncle and Brienne.

Robb's war council consisted of the three strongest lords of the North, Ser Aenys Frey – commander of the forces from the Twins – Brynden Blackfish and Robb himself. The six men were seated around a huge round oak table. There was a seventh seat which was empty. Cat felt uneasy as she sat down. On Robb's left was Lord Jon Umber, called the Greatjon for his size and strength. Despite being near fifty years old, he was still the strongest man Cat knew. On Robb's right was Lord Rickard Karstark, the hard lord of Karhold. He was as cold as the Greatjon was boisterous. There was also Lord Howland Reed of the crannogmen, a tall, thin man with mud-coloured hair and moss-green eyes. Cat knew him well; Ned always spoke fondly of the crannogman.

There was only one lord missing. "Your Grace," Cat said, speaking directly to her son, "Where is Lord Bolton?"

Robb's fist curled in anger, "Roose Bolton was slain in the Sack of the Crag. He took a spear meant for me. I mean to grant the Dreadfort to Ramsay, his bastard son, when this war is done. In the meantime we must plan our next move. Ser Aenys, what news of Stannis Baratheon?"

The Frey stood, "Lord Stannis marches on King's Landing, Your Grace, at the head of an army of seventy-thousand."

"What do you say we should do?"

"We should not march them down, Your Grace. Tywin Lannister is between them and us. To be caught between Baratheon and Lannister…" Frey shuddered, "It does not do to think of it, Your Grace."

"Bollocks!" the Greatjon bellowed, "Do you know who you are speaking to? This is Robb Stark, King in the North! He's never lost a battle. We should march on Tywin Lannister before he recovers his strength from the last fucking we gave him." Umber's eye caught Catelyn, "Begging your pardon, my lady."

A small smile played across Robb's lips, "Thank you for that, Lord Umber. What say you, Lord Karstark?"

The Lord of Karhold was an impressive man, broad in the belly and in the shoulder, "With respect, Your Grace, winning battles and winning wars is not the same thing. Robert Baratheon became King not by beating Aerys Targaryen in the field, but by laying waste to his city."

"What do you propose?"

"I say we sack a city."

"We have already sacked the Crag."

Rickard Karstark spat, "That's what the Crag is to Tywin Lannister. How much gold did we take from the Crag? How many men did the Westerlings grant you?"

Robb nodded slowly, "Thank you."

He's learning to listen. Cat thought. The talk went around the table and eventually it was Catelyn's turn.

"Your Grace," she began, "my lords. You forget, we are fighting three wars. The Lannisters in the west, Balon Greyjoy in the north and Stannis Baratheon in the east, by proxy. Balon Greyjoy cannot hold the North, and Tywin Lannister marches to break Lord Stannis, having forgotten us. The Lannisters took my husband from me, took Eddard Stark from this world. For all I know, they have killed my daughters too. I say we show them how it feels to lose everything that is important to you. And there is nothing more important to a Lannister than gold. I say we should take Casterly Rock."

A murmur of assent went around the table. Aenys Frey stood up to interject, "And what if Tywin Lannister attacks us beneath the walls of the Rock? We'll be slaughtered, my lady."

"I always thought the men of the Twins were cravens. You've got less balls between you than a horde of Unsullied" Jon Umber roared with glee, "And here I have a chance to prove it!" he turned to Robb, "Tywin will have taken most of his men with him. Do not lay siege to Casterly Rock. That is how we beat them here at Riverrun. We should take it from them as soon as we can."

"Lord Umber," Ser Aenys replied, reddening from the insult, "you forget. No army has broken the Rock in thousands of years. Even Lann the Clever only managed it by trickery."

Lord Howland Reed, who had been silent throughout the entire council spoke up. His voice was less than a whisper, yet all listened intently, "Then perhaps we should follow in his footsteps. We know of the catacombs beneath the Rock. Your Grace, let me take a thousand crannogmen into the castle while you and yours feign siege. We shall deliver the castle to you within the night."

"Fie on your words, crannogman," Aenys Frey snarled, "you and your bog devils. Do not trust him, Your Grace. Those of the bogs are evil men and dull ones too."

Howland Reed did not raise his voice, "I trust that you have a better plan, Ser?"

Aenys Frey spluttered stupidly, but he was saved the trouble of speaking by his King.

Robb stood up. "I thank you for your counsel, my lords. As you say, Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon are marching to meet each other. The Ironborn are only raiding. We'll take the Rock, plunder it of gold, and then slay Tywin Lannister as he recovers from the stag." A roar rolled around the table at that. "We'll march at dawn." Robb added.

After the war council had cleared out, only Cat remained with her son. "Robb, that raven you sent to Stannis Baratheon –"

"I know how unwise it was." he sighed deeply, "I never thought fighting a war would be this hard. Will Stannis negotiate?"

Catelyn hesitated. If Robb took the Westerlands, he would rule most of Westeros. But Stannis Baratheon had all the arrogance of Robert and none of the humour. "Stannis is a good warrior, a proven commander. What he lacks is support. The storm lords only flock to him because he was Renly's heir. The Tyrells have yet to declare, but my heart tells me Mace Tyrell will fight for Tywin," Catelyn sighed, "Stannis Baratheon may be Robert's true heir, as your father believed, but he cannot win this war. Not if six of seven kingdoms dispute his claim."

"But if he can win?"

"Then he will never negotiate with you. Stannis believes he is the true King of Westeros. All of Westeros. He will not be contented with Dorne, the Reach, the Vale and King's Landing."

Robb sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands. "Like you said Mother, we are fighting three wars."

"The Greyjoys –"

"The Greyjoys have taken Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square and Moat Cailin. I will not be known as the Stark who Lost the North." Robb's voice was filled with cold anger. Hurt too, Cat realised, He sent Theon to bring the Iron Islands to our cause, but they've turned against us as well.

"Robb," she said after a moment, "You cannot march on Casterly Rock, King's Landing and Pyke."

"I know that." he stood and strode over to her, a sad look in his eye, "That's why I'm sending you to treat with Balon Greyjoy."

"What?"

The Young Wolf sighed, "I don't have any other negotiators. All the Northmen want to tear Balon's throat out, and I need them to advise me in battle."

"Robb, I can't –"

Robb's eyes went dark, "I'm not asking you as a son. I'm telling you as your king. You will go to Pyke and you will make a peace with Balon Greyjoy. You will ride to Seagard on the morrow, and sail to Pyke." he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he spoke again, it was softer, "Mother, you know as well as I do that we cannot win three wars at the same time. We need the Greyjoys and their fleet, and they need our armies to beat the Lannisters back. Remind Balon Greyjoy of our common goals."

Seven save me. He sounds more like Ned every day. Cat held her son's gaze for a moment, before nodding mutely. Robb Stark left his mother there, looking out of the window. Catelyn stayed for a long while, before retiring to her old chambers.

They'd changed little since she was a girl. Cat remembered the times when she and Lysa would sit on the bed and talk of the men they would marry. Lysa only talked about Petyr, she remembered, and I was obsessed with Brandon Stark. There was a small pane of polished silver, and Cat looked at her reflection. Those times were so happy. Where did all my sadness come from?

But that was when she was a girl, before Rheagar Targaryen stole Lyanna Stark away, before Mad King Aerys murdered her Brandon and his father Rickard, before Robert and his rebellion, before Ned, before her son fell from the tower, before the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn, before that bastard Joffrey took Ned away from her.

Catelyn Stark's life had been happy. Mayhaps she was different from the hard Northmen, but that wasn't a bad thing. She'd learned to love them, learned to know Ned as she'd never known Brandon, love him like no-one else. But that was all gone now. And Catelyn Stark had learned to hate.

"Gods," she said, praying quietly, "gods of the North, gods of the Seven, please hear me. If there is any mercy in you, any justice, then grant my son his victory. Grant me my vengeance against those who took my Ned. And grant death to the Lannisters."

After praying a little more, Cat lay down to sleep. The bed felt so wrong without Eddard's comforting body there, like a shield to guard her from any threats. Her dreams were strange too. She dreamt of a wolf's head on a man's body, of a river burning end to end, of a stag being strangled by roses, with a hot sun burning overhead. She dreamt of a great black dragon, flying over endless grasses. She was alone on a cliff. The dragon saw her and swooped down to swallow her up.

Catelyn Stark woke in a cold sweat.

Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear any constructive criticism or feedback you guys have, either through a review on here, or to my Tumblr page, where I try and post snippets;

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