All she could see was the boy he had always been: the overly-excited, happy child he always was. Now he sat before her, scratching away his signature into a peace treaty she had given him. His green armour echoed his past excitement; but the beast behind him showed his new colours. Short, blonde hair lay before her face; dark almond eyes watched her every move. Catelyn shuffled nervously in her seat, as Renly raised his chin to meet her gaze. Just like Robert she thought: his black hair and growing beard down his cheeks and chin. His eyes glowed blue; like the seas beside Storm's End.
Brienne of Tarth is what they called her. Brienne the Beauty; was a more mocking jape. Her frown was the worst aspect; as if she was judging her for something she didn't possess inside her. What unsettled her even more was how she held her sword: not unlike Robb, but more like the Greatjon Umber, the towering oaf that he is, but a worthy banner-man.
"So, Stark and Baratheon will unite once again" Renly smiled; a reflection of the boy inside. 'I could have never foreseen him sit upon the Iron Throne' Catelyn thought.
"Just like Ned and Robert" Catelyn smiled pleasantly. Renly beckoned Brienne to pour them wine, and so she did. It was not strange to see a woman doing a job like this; but she wasn't a woman: she was a man in a woman's body. She had no grace as she poured; unlike the handmaidens that flocked behind Lady Margaery's skirts. Brienne grunted as she slammed the flagon onto the table, and returned to her station of protection; happily holding onto her sword like a babe to a rattle.
Renly grasped his glass jovially: as did Catelyn: so he pronounced:
"To Lord Eddard Stark, a good man, and the beginning of my cause" he downed his wine in once, and flexed his elbow for Brienne to pour more. She looked more like a mummer's farce than a knight; sporting the Tarth colours and the Rainbow Cloak of Renly's own Rainbow Guard.
"To Ned" Catelyn smiled mournfully, but drank nonetheless. 'The drink may ease my spirit'' she thought. Thoughts of her husband's head mounted above the walls of the Red Keep still haunted her dreams; even though she knew that Eddard Stark's head and bones were being transported to Winterfell by a pack of Silent Sisters.
"And to my late brother; the big fat oaf that he was!" Renly howled, and downed his drink, spitting up drops of purple liquid onto the table. He wiped his mouth "Don't worry, Cat, I loved my brother nevertheless!"
"To Robert" Catelyn said faintly, sipping the wipe from the rim of the goblet.
"On the morrow; I will crush my brother's host, meet with your son, and within a fortnight I shall crush Tywin Lannister and take the Iron Throne for my own!" Renly stood; quickly meandering throughout the tent to a mirror. "Brienne, remove my armour; I wish to rest up early before the ensuing conflict" Catelyn noticed a slight smirk through the dusty mirror.
Brienne the Beauty seemed almost melancholy as she untied the laces tying together Renly's chainmail. She removed it from his chest and placed it around the mannequin; mahogany with a helm already resting: antlers (like the Stag of House Baratheon). A heavy wind sailed across the tent that cut straight through Catelyn; enticing a low draft.
"Fetch my surcoat, Brienne; it's suddenly become quite chilly" Renly moaned. 'Still the boy I remember' Catelyn reminisced; as Brienne placed the coat over his shoulders.
The moon was rising to its potential outside before Catelyn left the King's Tent. Brienne of Tarth followed her outside; still with that dead look. Two other Rainbow Guards look at her with smirks behind their byrnies; but Brienne paid no attention. A slight rain must have fallen while she was speaking with the self-proclaimed king; as small puddles of muddy water stuck her feet to the ground. It took her multiple minutes to reach her tent; smaller yet conveniently draped in the Stark and Tully colours.
She dipped her head as she entered, and lowered her hood as she was greeted by the sudden heat. A small fire was billowing before a spit-fire; smoke rising through a small flap at the top of the tent. An alcove led off into what she assumed would be a bathing area and bed; so she called some waiting Tyrell servants from outside to fetch her some water.
Catelyn disrobed, folded her dress and fetched a robe from a small basket in the corner of the bathing alcove. A tub sat waiting at the centre; barren and freezing in the autumnal air. Catelyn sighed; but seconds later a bush of roses flocked into the room; flagons of warm water almost falling from their little arms. One poured; then another, a standard routine clearly taught in the holds they grew up in.
One caught Catelyn's eye; a young girl; barely older than six-and-ten; with smooth, spruce hair and deep, brown eyes. 'The Forrester Girl' Catelyn realised. The girl turned; and was almost taken aback by her liege lord's wife's appearance.
"Lady Catelyn" she bowed deep to the floor; her nose almost rubbing the cotton carpets.
"I do believe you are Lord Gregor's daughter? Mira, was it?" Catelyn asked
"Yes, my lady" she smiled behind her hand.
"You have your mother's face though your father's hair and eyes"
"Thank you, my lady"
"I do quite believe your friend can be dismissed?" the other Tyrell servants stood towards the far end of the tent; their heads bowed. They obliged, bowed, and followed each other out the tent flap.
"Like identical hens they are!"
"Yes, my lady"
"I would invite you to sit; only, I haven't seen a chair yet, myself"
"No trouble, my lady. I trust I shall see you tomorrow then?"
"I do hope so, Mira" Mira bowed, and skidded from the tent.
Catelyn tugged against the strap that held her gown together, and let it drop to the floor. She looked down her chest; to her breasts which were sagging ever so slightly. 'I'm aging' she thought, as she skimmed her toes across the water. The temperature was just right; so she placed her foot inside, and then the other. She lowered into the tub; and sighed as it raced around her legs and absorbed into her skin.
A table was placed against the tub; with a sponge and certain bath scents. Catelyn picked one that didn't smell too vile; and applied it to the water. It frothed weird, pink foam; but it tickled the soft skin around Catelyn's body.
She rested her eyes; the face of a young Renly Baratheon floating before her. Then images of him seated upon the Iron Throne: a fair king; gentle with his wife in the marriage bed, perfect for many sons to last many winters; holding the hand of fair Margaery Tyrell. Yet Northern traditions echoed around his image; the bronze and iron crown, the sword on his knees, the cold metal resting against his wolf skin surcoat.
Many noble lords kneeled before him: Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden; Prince Doran Martell of Dorne; Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands; and Lord Petyr Baelish; still as short and mischievous as he was when he was fostered into House Tully.
"Cat" said a familiar voice. Catelyn opened her eyes at a start; to the face of Petyr Baelish; smirking with that pathetic goatee and surcoat that trailed on the floor. Her hand rested against her breasts: she knew he was pervert, having taken abed with her sister, and had fought for her hand against old, muscular Brandon Stark: long deceased. "Don't worry. I understand you hold no interest in me" he smiled.
"What do you want, Petyr?" Catelyn snarled
"I only came to welcome you to the camp of Renly Baratheon, King of Storm's End. Our last meeting wasn't very pleasant; having me arrive with old Ned's bones"
"Can't a woman bathe in peace?"
"Oh sorry! Being raised from a young age at the Fingers doesn't give you much for privacy. It seems the Tully traditions never rubbed off on me" he smirked, his eyes trying to translate the
ripples of her nipples.
"No. You were too busy trying to either bed me or Lysa!"
"We were always the best of friends; were we not, Cat? I was deeply disheartened when I was banished from Riverrun by the behest of your lord father"
"Yet it seems the scolding he gave you never left its mark"
"Oh yes, it did. I still have the scars on my back. Men don't take kindly when you bed their daughters. Lysa did have a way with words"
"Leave! Or I'll call the Rainbow Guard"
"Such a ridiculous name! By the Gods, I do hope the rumours aren't true, if Renly takes the Iron Throne"
"King Renly is a valiant man, with hopes for the best for the Six Kingdoms he shall inherit; and for the continued aid to the Kingdom of the North"
"Ah, yes, your son, Robb. How is he? The self-proclaimed, King in the North"
"Being self-proclaimed would make him a rebel. The Northern Lords named him their king: you have no right to name my son a traitor!"
"Did I utter the word?"
"You have been a good friend, Petyr... though from this moment, I hope to never set eyes on your treacherous face again. Rumours spread, but I know this particular one is a truth. You betrayed Ned when he tried to take the throne for the rightful King: after you gave me your word; the word to the woman you once loved"
"And yet; you're the one making a treaty with the youngest brother of our dearly departed Robert!" Littlefinger smirked, bowed, and swept away from the hall, his surcoat flapping against the cotton.
'What if he's right?'' Catelyn thought; after she had scrubbed herself and was pulling the covers to her chin.
