NOTE: Everything you recognize belongs to George R. R. Martin, a simply wonderful author who is much better at writing than I am. I own nothing. I simply love his books.
CATELYN I
The sunrise that morning was as red as the blood. Catelyn's horse trudged wearily across the plain of battle, bearing its mistress towards the immense fortress of Storm's End. They made uneasy progress, picking their way over the corpses of the slain. The Silent Sisters were moving between the bodies like flies, examining each briefly before moving on. Catelyn knew that only the high lords and knights who fought for Renly would receive proper burials, while Stannis's men would burn on a pyre, as bright as the sword that Stannis had wielded before his death. Even from her distant vantage point, Catelyn and her guards had been able to see exactly where Stannis had been during the entire battle, his sigil illuminated by the glow of Lightbringer. They had lost sight of him for a moment when he toppled off his horse, but then he had emerged and cut down several more men before seeming to collapse. Had he died then? The light had vanished, like a candle being blown out. Even when dawn came, the world had seemed a little less bright.
All this death, and all for nought, Catelyn thought sadly as her horse trotted uncaring across the body of one of Renly's men-at-arms. The Baratheon brothers could not see reason, and now Stannis is dead on Renly's orders. And all for that damned throne. Catelyn Stark thanked the gods every day that her son had more sense than to go chasing after it.
Their approach to the gate was heralded by some cheers, and a few suspicious looks from the men who now camped around Storm's End She saw squires tending cookfires, knights and boasting. Here and there there was even a prisoner chained to a post, though the majority of them had already been taken to the dungeons under the castle. When the men whose loyalties lay with Stannis cast their baleful gazes upon her, Catelyn looked right back. She owed them that much. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I tried to bring peace, and I could not even do that.
The courtyard was alive with noise, as she had expected it would be. Everyone was chattering excitedly, none more so than the high lords who had led Renly's advance. She found the young king himself with the colourful knights, and lady, of the Rainbow Guard arranged behind him.
"Near two thousand dead at last count," Mathis Rowan was telling Renly loudly, as if the number was something to be proud of. "And only four hundred of them are ours. Monford Valaryon was slain in the fighting. Lord Duram Bar Emmon and Lord Ardrian Celtigar have bent the knee and accepted you as their king. The Lysene sellsail in service to Stannis was last seen sailing east with all haste, and Stannis's own ships are creeping north. Leaderless, they pose no threat. The remaining men have either yielded, fled, or been taken prisoner. It is, without a doubt, a great victory for a great king!"
"May there be a thousand more!" boomed Ser Guyard Morrigen, his rainbow cloak torn but still magnificent. The men of the Stormlands and the Reach echoed his cry.
"And what of my brother?" Renly asked, not seeming to share in the joy any more than Catelyn was.
"He is dead, Your Grace. The Silent Sisters are preparing his corpse for burial."
There was cheering, but not as much as might have been expected, and the yard was quickly silent. Renly looked more grim than everyone else present, besides Catelyn herself. She noted this carefully. Is he really grieved about this news? Or is this whole thing an act?
"Did we find the red priestess who bore his standard?"
"No trace of the woman has been found, Your Grace."
Renly's frown deepened. "And Ser Barristan Selmy?" he inquired. Lord Rowan shook his head helplessly. Catelyn wondered about that as she approached the King in the South. If Ser Barristan did not go to Stannis or Renly, then where is he? And where is the red priestess?
"Lady Stark!" Renly cried when he saw her, his facing morphing into his usual easy smile with an unnatural swiftness. "I trust you enjoyed the show?"
She fumed internally when she heard this, but did not allow it to show. I will not let Renly Baratheon get under my skin. He is barely more than a boy. As such, her reply was courteous but cold. "I'm afraid death is not my preferred form of entertainment, Lord Renly." She did not grant him the style he had chosen for himself and she could sense that half of the men in the courtyard wanted to speak up, to argue with her choice of words. Renly spoke before they could.
"That is a great shame, as I fear there will be more shows like it before the year is out!" His voice had risen at the end of the sentence, so that he was speaking to everyone present, rather than just her. Another cheer went up in response. Renly gave a gracious bow to his subjects. "My noble lords, I fear I miss my young queen terribly. I can scarcely bare to be away from her a moment longer! We will feast here tonight, and my brother Stannis will be interred in the tombs below. And tomorrow, at dawn, we will ride for the Roseroad. Our next feast will be in KING'S LANDING!"
The cheers were deafening this time. Catelyn bowed her head, eyes closed, waiting for them to die. When, at last, there was a lull in the celebrations, she fixed her sharp stare on the man who named himself king. "Lord Renly. I ask you once again for your leave to return to Riverrun."
He waved his hand casually. "Of course, you have it. Your purpose here is served, Lady Stark. Bring my terms to your son for his consideration. And inform him of what you saw here today, so he may know what I do to traitors."
"As you wish," Catelyn told him. Renly Baratheon is an arrogant fool, who thinks he can fix the problems of Westeros by showering them with flowers and blood. My fifteen year old son is already twice the ruler he will ever be. "I bid you farewell, my lords." She turned her horse and trotted away from the staring crowd, perhaps a little faster than was strictly necessary. Her guards quickly picked up her pace, and they departed the great castle of the storm lords together.
On the battlefield once more, Catelyn's party turned north. Having to lay eyes on the desolation all over again made her feel nauseated, but at least now many of the corpses had been moved. The smell of death lingered, however, clinging to the churned earth. A light breeze tugged at Catelyn's simple travel garments. There's a chill in the air. Autumn is upon us now, of that there is no doubt. From there, her thoughts turned backwards towards the past, remembering where she had been the last time the season had changed. Winterfell, of course, before Arya, Bran and Rickon had been born. Sansa had been no more than a babe, and Robb was a little boy who loved nothing more than to play with wooden swords in the yard with Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow. She remembered Maester Luwin coming to her with the news, while she and Ned were breaking their fasts in the solar they had shared.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Lord Stark, Lady Stark," he had said, smiling a little to show that he had not come to them with ill tidings. "I thought you might like to know. The white ravens have flown from Oldtown. Winter is over before it barely began, and soon summer will return to us."
"And may it be a long one," Catelyn had replied to him. But even now, years later, she remembered what Ned had said. "A long one it may be, but it cannot last for ever. The longer the summer, the longer the winter, or so the smallfolk say." Remembering her husband's words caused her grief, so she turned her thoughts to Robb. The memory of the boy he had been was still fresh in her mind, and it still took her by surprise every time she remembered that he had grown up. Her son now wielded more power over the North than any Stark for almost three hundred years. A boy of fifteen had severed Winterfell's ties to the Iron Throne, accompanied by the thunderous cheers of all the northern lords. I am truly blessed to be his mother. But he is not the only child I should be worrying about. I haven't seen Bran or Rickon in months. I could return to them, but how could I leave Robb's side when he needs me the most? And how could Robb ever return home while a Lannister army sat at Harrenhal? Lord Tywin was poised to renew his assault on the Riverlands, she knew this. There would be no going home for either of them unless he was defeated.
"My lady?" asked Hallis Mollen, the captain of her guard. "Is everything alright?"
Catelyn wiped away the tear that had been rolling down her cheek, and nodded. "The wind makes my eyes water, is all."
They continued on, the great castle shrinking behind them. About a mile north of Storm's End, the road ran through a thinly wooded area. Catelyn hadn't been paying much attention to the road, having been lost in thought and memory, so she didn't notice immediately when the boy stepped out in front of them. Her party slowed, and one of her guards rode out a little way.
"Make way, lad. Make way for Lady Stark." Catelyn was looking at him now. He appeared about eleven or twelve, with brown hair and eyes. He wore light leather armour stained with mud, and he was clutching a large black bundle about half his own size. When he heard who was riding with the party, his face seemed to brighten a little, where before it had been stricken with despair. He did not move.
"Lady Stark," he spoke, with a quavering voice. "My name is Devan, of the House Seaworth. I was a squire to Stannis Baratheon."
Catelyn rode immediately to the head of the party, and adressed the boy personally. "I am Lady Catelyn Tully. Mother to Robb Stark, the King in the North. What would you ask of me?" I failed at diplomacy with Renly. I failed at diplomacy with Stannis. I may at least succeed with this boy.
"I r-request your aid in returning me to my father, Ser Davos Seaworth, who some call the Onion Knight. I am trained as a squire and will serve you any way you want. If my father... If my father lives, you will have the e-eternal gratitude of our house." The boy was visibly shaking now, whether from cold or fear Catelyn did not know. Perhaps both. Seeing the boy like this, alone, terrified, asking a complete stranger for help... she pitied him more than words could say. This is your fault, Renly. If you had listened to me, then this child would not have been placed in this situation. And so, of course, Lady Catelyn Stark nodded her head, just once.
"You will ride with us to Riverrun, under my personal care. There, we will send a raven to your father." She felt her heart become just a little warmer as she saw the sudden expression of joy on his features. "Do you have a horse?"
"Yes, my lady. I found her after the battle. My own horse died, and she lost her rider. She's over there."
"Very good. Mount up, quickly now. We need to get you as far from Renly Baratheon as we can."
She watched as the boy scurried to fetch his horse from a cluster of trees. And so I am leaving the Stormlands, she thought, bringing with me only a dead king's squire and terms that my son will not accept. Perhaps you should have sent the Greatjon, my sweet Robb. I fear even he could not match the damage I have done today.
Catelyn Stark closed her eyes and prayed silently, for her children and all the children of the Seven Kingdoms.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: And now, we have the first proper chapter in my little tale. I hope you enjoyed it even more than the prologue. It was a tricky one to write, I might add. I have copies of the courtyard scene from the POVs of Renly, Loras and Brienne, but I wanted to show this battle for what it really was - a dishonourable slaughter. And who better for that than Lady Stark? She may not be everyone's favourite character, but I like her a lot. Whether you love Cat or despise her, please take the time to leave a review. It's quick and easy and you don't even need an account. Summing up your opinions of my story in one word would be fine, if you're just that lazy.
The next chapter, featuring Tyrion, should be out in about a week if all goes well. I hope to see you then.