This story is an AU beginning from the events of the Red Wedding. It will be based primarily on the information from the books, but I do watch the TV show so that will probably have some influence as well naturally. This is not going to be a happy 'Oh they weren't killed so now everything will go brilliantly' story; there will still be hardships, there's still hellish things going on and there is still going to be a complicated, hard story, and is more an exploration of how things might have played out had the Starks not been so viciously murdered. I love the Red Wedding- it's brilliant writing- but this is just an alternative direction, rather than an entire new story world and all characters will be heavily featured, not just Catelyn and Robb.
I hope you like it and reviews are always appreciated as is constructive criticism.
"On my honour as a Tully, on my honour as a Stark let my son go or by the seven Hells I shall cut your son's throat"
She held the boy tightly to her, the vice like grip on his arms, aggravating the scars on her fingers from when she had held back a blade from her own throat. She remembered the Valeryian steal cutting through to the bone, the lack of dexterity in her two smallest fingers serving as much a reminder as the scars, and she knew the fear the boy in her arms was feeling. But he did not try to push the blade away as she had, but stood in her grip, trembling and she thought she could almost feel his heartbeat through his clothes and hers.
Ser Walder Frey's attention was drawn, his watery eyes focused on her, his mouth set in a grim line and for a horrifying moment she thought all was lost, that he would sacrifice his own kin for the sake of obliterating hers. But then he held up a hand, like that of an emperor commanding an end to the fight of two Gladiators.
"Stop," He ordered, the one word bringing an end to all movement in the room, even the dying seemed to fall still, their moans of agony momentarily silenced. He looked at Cat, squinting, judging, "You don't have it in you"
"Do not try me, ser," She warned and there was something of a madness in her voice, the desperation of one who has nothing to lose. The Cat Ser Walder believed he knew was gone, she felt her vanish the moment she saw the multiple arrows pierce Robb's flesh. She would do anything to see him live, anything to see him walk out of the hall, to have him seen by a Maester, to have his wounds heal. The Lannisters could have the throne for all she cared, they could have their lands, their battles, they could take the Twins and Winterfell and Riverrun, they could take anything they wished, but not her son. She turned back to Ser Walder, "Let him go,"
The Late Walder Frey licked his cracked lips, and sucked against his teeth, thinking and Cat could not believe he would debate his own son's life while she would give anything for Robb's. He looked over at her son.
"What's to say you won't break your oath again? You swear to not take vengeance; what's to say your blessed son won't break your oath the moment I let him walk out of that door? It wouldn't be the first time"
Once again Cat cursed her son's impulse to marry that girl, to put aside his betrothal to the Frey girl. He had made an oath and by the Gods how she wished he'd kept it. Robb stood there in the centre of the room, the blood of those around him splattered on his face and clothes, the multiple arrows protruding from his skin, and he could barely stand upright from his injuries. She felt the burn of the arrow in her own back, but knew she would not die from the injury just as surely as she knew Robb would not die from his. Arrow wounds could be healed; a cut throat could not.
"I swear it, I swear by the old Gods and the new, I will not take vengeance," She repeated her vow, her voice desperate and pleading, more tears flowing down her cheeks, but she did not allow them to loosen her grip on the Frey boy. Her hostage was all that stood between life and death for her son and she would not let go if there were a thousand of the Kingsguard before her.
"Aye," Frey nodded, "But does he?" He looked at Robb again, but the fallen King stayed silent, his mouth closed, his expression defiant.
"Please, Robb," Cat begged, "Make the vow, promise him we will let this pass, please,"
Robb faltered in his stance as the leg which had been shot gave way, but he stood once again, pushing himself to his feet as he gazed upon Ser Walder with pure, black hatred in his eyes. He took a few steps forward and seemed almost to stumble again, but he remained upright. He opened his mouth to speak and Cat knew he was about to refuse, she knew by the way he stood, by the way his jaw was set, by the way he looked so like Ned, she knew he would refuse to make the vow.
"Please," She begged again and her son turned to look at her, the hatred in his eyes fading to reveal love and sympathy. He clearly did not wish to make the vow, but the sight of his Mother, her scarred hands holding a blade to a young boy's throat in desperation, seemed to alter something in him and his defiance fell away as he returned his gaze to the man who had betrayed them all.
"I vow it," He finally said, "I swear by the old gods and the new, on my honour as Stark, that I will take no vengeance for this night"
There was no one in the room who could deny he meant the vow with all he had left in him, and Cat sighed a little with relief. She did not let go of the boy though, nor did she drop the blade from his throat; not until her son was safe beyond the grounds, safe beyond the reach of these men who would call themselves soldiers of honour would she loosen her deathly grip.
Frey nodded, accepting the vow.
"I accept your vow, and there's a great many here who bear witness to it should you break it," He gestured at Catelyn, "She's my hostage until I see fit-"
"What-" Robb began to question, but Frey spoke over him as though the King of the North had not spoken at all.
"Until I am sure that I am not further risk of you breaking another oath to me, she shall be kept as hostage"
"And when I am to expect such a thing? You have proven you do not trust me, and if that is the case, you will have my Mother until the day you die. Nothing I do or do not do will change that"
It was quite a sight to see Robb still able to right for his corner, to still fight for his Mother like an alpha wolf viciously protecting his pack, despite the many injuries he had suffered which must be causing him insufferable pain. The burning in her back had increased as though her very spine had caught aflame and she could only think her son must be feeling thrice the pain. And yet he stood there, his life in his grasp, fighting for her. He was his Father's son, never more so than now. Yet, she couldn't let him risk what she had barely gained.
"Please Robb," She said again, though her words were calmer now, the small slice of hope serving to calm her earlier fervour. Before she had nothing to lose, now she had everything, and well it did nothing to lessen her desperation, it had lessened her madness. "I will be fine. Please, I ask you, go. Please"
She looked at him, her expression as pleading as her words and if she could have dropped to her knees and begged she would have done. She watched as her son glanced around the room, the slaughter before his eyes only serving to make his expression grimmer and she prayed further that he would do nothing stupid, that he would do as she asked and walk out of this hall alive. If he left he could still find Arya, still get to Sansa, but if he remained he would only die, able to do nothing but rot in the Earth.
Again the defiance was in his eyes and it was as if all was lost, but it faded as quickly as it had arisen, and slumped, looking as defeated as so many men in battle, he nodded. He began to walk over his Mother, perhaps to say what he thought would be his last goodbyes, but she shook her head at him. She couldn't risk loosening her grip on the boy in her arms. She was holding him against her like a shield, but in truth it was Robb's shield; her own life was of no value, but her sons was worth more than all the Lannister's gold.
"Find the girls. Bring them home," She urged as he began to slowly limp towards the grand entrance at the end of the hall. Two guards pulled the heavy doors open, and they creaked loudly and ominously, the sound echoing across the now silent room. Before there had been joy and music, then there had been screams and slaughter, now there was only silence and Robb's limping step. She watched his every move, though she spared brief glances in the direction of Walder Frey, but the man remained in his seat.
Only when she knew her son to be out of harm's way, did she loosen her grip at all, though while she slackened she still held the blade to the boy's throat and she heard him swallow nervously. She tried to move, but found she couldn't. Her hands, thanks to Petyr's blade, were no longer as flexible as they had once been and such a tight grip for such a long time, seemed to have frozen her hand to the hilt. But even if her grip were not so rigid, she believed she would still be unable to move. She was frozen all over, her stance stiff and unrelenting, fearful of the power hold that would fall away the moment she let go. Jamie Lannister had called her a she-wolf, and perhaps that was who she was now, a Mother wolf protecting her remaining cubs, wild and fierce, fighting off anyone who would come near.
"Take the blade off her," She heard Ser Walter command, though his voice seemed distant and far away, as though it were being spoken from more than another land, but another time. Robb was safe, Robb was away from here, Robb was gone, Robb was alive, were all the thoughts that consumed her and she barely felt the servants her prized her hands away, who broke her grip on the blade.
"And find a cell to throw her in," Frey added, but she didn't care. She would share the tiniest cell with the largest rats and live on nothing but old scraps of stale bread if it ensured her son's survival and so she calmly went with her captors as they led her to her new quarters.