A/N: Thank you for the follows and favourites, and thank you for the reviews especially. I'm glad you're all enjoying this. As promised, the first proper chapter is a lot longer than the prologues, and obviously as length and narrative increases, there will be a slightly longer wait between chapters now. There should be at least one chapter a week, sometimes more depending on my free time. But I hope you enjoy it and that you stay with me on this, and let me know what you think! Enjoy!


At first they had taken her to a cell that was located far beneath the bowels of the Twins, deep in the ground, where even sunlight struggled to reach. As she was taken from the room, her eyes had found the many dead bodies around her, lay strewn across the stone floor., and the blood stained the bottom of her dress. She had at first tried to avoid them, to make herself blind to the atrocities for fear it would weaken her resolve- she could not afford to break, for anything to create even the smallest crack or else she would fall and all would be lost. Yet as she was guided (a gentle description of the pushing and hard nudging she had received from the guard who had led from behind her) from the the room, she thought she was doing a disservice to Robb's men to avoid them and thus forced herself to look, to gaze upon them all, memorising all of their faces one by one. They were all someone's son, there was a Mother grieving now as she had grieved Bran and Rickon. They had left their homes to fight a war, to fight for what they believed right and paid for it with their lives. Not even the so-called glory of a death in battle had been granted them; they had been slaughtered at their tables while they ate. All because of broken oaths and injured pride.

Pride was all it ever came down to; what man would aspire to be king if it was not pride driving him. A man could fight to free his people, fight to end wickedness, but to fight for a throne seemed to Cat to be nothing but the product of the motivations of self-serving men. At least she could take comfort in the fact her Ned had never been one for such desires. Eddard Stark had not lacked for an opportunity to take the throne, nor lacked for the means or support, but he had never wanted it. All he aspired for was his home at Winterfell and the good and safety of his people. Robb was the same; it was not he that had placed the crown upon his head, he had not named himself King of the North. His men had elevated him to that status, his men had asked that of him, and he had answered them. What other choice did he have? But she had known even then that a dangerous path was being set, wars between kings rarely achieved anything but bodies upon the ground and the slaughter under Lord Walter Frey's roof had been but another collection of causalities for the cause.

But Robb was not one of them; Robb was alive. Her first son and now her last. Alive.

The thought kept her strong; it allowed her to look upon the bodies without falling, without breaking, and it allowed her to bear the dim, dank cell they had first brought her to.

The cell was worthy of the worst of prisoners and had most likely been previously used by murderers, smugglers and thieves and so the presence of a high-born Lady in in fine furs and braided hair had caused something of a stir amongst the few servants who worked on the dim cells. She had heard them discussing her, their talk so quiet and hushed that she could not make out the words entirely, but she had heard her own name spoken enough to know she was the subject of their hushed conversations. She only wished she could hear more; she had learned when she was a little girl that more useful information could be found in the chatter of servants than in the chatter of dignitaries, but she heard nothing clear from the Frey service and remained in frustrating ignorance of the goings on in the castle. She had to remind herself of why she was here, saying Robb's name to herself quietly over and over, so as to halt any desire to attempt to leave or to find a way out of the awful place.

After a few days, she wasn't quite sure how many, a gruff-looking man with a matted beard and a large belly was brought to the cells and shoved into the cell next to hers. She at least had been given the dignity of walking in herself and had been allowed access to a lady's maid of sorts to help with her hair and clothes- she may be a hostage, but she was still a Lady and even in cells such luxuries were granted as it always served the Lord better if their rich hostage was well-maintained. She doubted the man next to her would be granted such a luxury.

When her makeshift maid attended her the next day, she asked who he was and why he was in the cells.

"He's the enemy milady," The girl, a frail thing of nine with long fair hair the colour of wet sand who claimed she went by the name of Margaryt, said.

"I imagine the Lord Frey has many enemies," Catelyn replied drily. He was not well liked even by those he supported, her Father had mocked him for a reason, and by his enemies he was truly hated. With the events of the previous days and Lord Walter's obvious change of alliance, she thought it likely his enemies had increased twofold at the very least.

"Everyone has enemies, milady," The girl replied as she continued to braid, "They don't say much to me, mind, but like as not he was on the lands. Found him stealing or some such, and him being on the wrong side and all that makes it treason milady"

Considering the fact The Late Lord Walter Frey was not a King or anywhere near the title, Catelyn did not thing stealing from his land could be considered treason, but Margaryt was well-meaning and one of only a few servants who spoke to her, so she didn't both to correct the girl.

"And so he has exchanged a river of fish for the lion's den," Cat murmured, silently praying for the lions to devour their new bannerman whole. She could not seek vengeance, by the words of her own vow, but that did not prevent her from wishing it. When she had spoken, it had been more to herself than Margaryt but the girl replied anyway.

"I hear he gets many a raven from the King's Hand," She said knowingly, as though one sharing a loosely guarded secret with a best friend, "I think Lord Tywin must be frightening in battle- they say he stands 7 feet tall"

Cat knew that little rumour to be greatly exaggerated, and suspected it might even have been the Lannister patriarch himself who had begun it. Yet again, however, she did not correct Maragryt on her assumptions, for she had a more pressing query in mind.

"Lord Tywin writes him often?" She asked.

"Yes, milady, for a long time now, Milady"

A long time. Long before the wedding. His betrayal, his slaughter, had been planned for so long and while they had been guarded they had been never suspicious of such a massacre. The realisation that it had not been orchestrated briefly, within a short space of time, but in fact had been planned long and arduously, with the Royal Family pushing him onwards, supporting his every move, made Catelyn heat up with rage. It made it more than vengeance, more than simply a vicious consequence of injured pride but a battle strategy for an attack none were permitted to prepare for, that had not taken place in the proper arena, in the battlefields of war. To fall in battle was something expected, all men walked in knowing the risks of the task they were undertaking, but to plan the massacre of a wedding was beyond forgiveness, beyond even retribution. May the Gods have them all, may they all burn in the seven Hells for this.


Once Margaryt had left and silence and stillness took over the prisoners' keeps once more, Cat sat alone, thinking over a great many things, both regrets and jubilations, successes and failures, when she heard a gentle humming from the man in the cell next door. It was not a tune she had ever come across before and she thought perhaps the man was making it up as he went along; he would not be the first as she vividly remembered the awful songs the minstrel had 'created' when they had been escoriting Tyrion Lannister to her sister. That was a journey she deeply regretted; she had wanted to avoid Winterfell for fear of Lannister following, but her plans had been pinned on the belief her sister would be sane and reasonable. Instead she had found an oddness only amplified by a lonely existence in the sky castle. She had begun to doubt the Imp's guilt as they had travelled, wondering if mistaken evidence had led her astray, and her intent for him to be tried was to be find the real truth- there was no use in executing a man who had not committed the crime. There was no justice in it either. But her sister had not listened, and the youngest Lannister sibling had walked away free as the birds that flocked the sky cells, and Cat had had no justice nor any answeres that would lead her to it, though as she knew now that Jaime had been the culprit, she doubted Tyrion would have betrayed his brother even if he had known the truth.

At least this man hummed better songs than the ones performed on that regretful journey. S

She had just started to adjust to his gentle humming, the quiet, wordless song, serving to bring some brightness to the dank little home she seemed destined to spend an unknowing amount of time within, when the singing abruptly stopped and the man spoke instead.

"I happened upon a glimpse of you when I was brought here, you know," The man's voice said, and Catelyn was a little surprised to realise he was speaking to her and not one of the servants who came wandering by with some small task.

"It is a small selection of cells, ser, I would not think it unlikely for you to have seen me as you came by," She answered curtly. She had to be careful; if the wedding had taught her anything, it was to be even more vigilant in choosing where to place one's trust. Betrayals did not just happen in the battlefield or on counsels; they were everywhere and one had to be wary and vigilant always.

"I am no ser," The man replied, his words more a grumble than anything and Cat thought that perhaps he had been a knight once, but the recent turmoil across the kingdoms had somehow stripped him of the title. He would not be the first or the last to suffer such a snub, "Though I find myself curious to discover a Lady in these ranks"

Cat did not answer and so the man, unprompted, spoke further.

"I would be hard put not to recognise you, Lady Stark, as I have seen you many times before this day"

Inwardly, Cat cursed the man for recognising her so easily; undoubtedly he had many questions he wanted to ask, and a great deal of information he wanted to gain, none of which Cat felt very much like giving. Though she had first been grateful for the sound of another person in the prisons, she now began to earn for silence once again where she could lose herself in thought, listen to any gossip that travelled down the narrow walls, and pray for the lives of her remaining children.

"And where might you have seen me before now, ser?" She asked, continuing to use the title owed to a knight. If he intended to garner information from her, then she was entitled to do the same, and her most prominent concern was how he might have come across her before; he did not sound like a northman, nor had he looked like one when he had been brought to the cells, but as she knew all too well, appearances could be deceiving. "Do you call yourself a lion or wolf?"

"Gods be good, I should have been a wolf like yourself, my lady," He replied and Cat almost went to protest that she was a Tully by birth, and that she was no wolf, but the words faded on her lips. She had married into the wolves many moons ago, but it was only in recent times that she felt herself becoming one of the pack. Her Houses' words 'Family. Duty. Honour' still rang true in her heart, but it was 'Winter is Coming' she spoke of more often. She had heard the words of both allies and enemies alike murmuring her name- it seemed men must create names for all and while they tagged Robb The Young Wolf, the Northern Wolf and other variations, she had heard them dub herself Mother of Wolves, She-wolf...not a single fish amongst their words. Perhaps they were right; she was a she-wolf, a woman of the north, and the Winters had come for her.

"Indeed," She replied, his admittance that he was not an ally making her even less inclined to speak.

"I was a stag by all accounts, member of the Kingsguard for King Robert," The man continued, "But after King Joffrey it might as well have been a lion I took for my banner.

"The Lannisters were on the seat of the throne, long before the boy Joffrey was crowned," Cat said wisely, knowing it to be true. Robert may have been king but the Lannister had held both the purse strings and the control, always. Robert's arguments against them had only ever been small defiances; his largest one being the appointment of Ned as Hand of the King, and such a great protest against the Lannisters' wishes had only concluded with both good men dead. Yes, the Lannisters had always held the reins and anyone who thought or believed otherwise was a fool among fools.

"Happen you're right," The man agreed, "Turned to madness when that boy took the throne, nothing but blood and treason and chaos" He paused briefly, "I abandoned my post. I am not ashamed to admit it my lady, and took my leave of King's Landing as soon as possible. I would rather be a traitor in the greens than fight for a man who shows no mercy" He paused again and Cat felt she knew what was coming, though she prayed the man would not speak of it, would not say the words, for it was a pain she still felt most poignantly, as much she did the loss of her children, and she could not break in here.

"I was there, when he made the order on Lord Eddard, my lady," He said and she felt the tears prick her eyes, though she strengthened her resolve. Tears may fall, but she would not break, and she forced herself to listen, "Both the Queen Regent and the little Lady Sansa pleaded for mercy, and it had been well known that Lord Stark was to be sent to the Night's Watch as punishment, but on the last moment, it was King Joffrey as changed his mind, my lady. And made a show of it. It was wrong, and unjust, and my vows are to protect the just and the righteous. I took my leave and it's took them this long to find me. I had a good run, though"

The Night's Watch. She would never have been able to be with him again, they would have been forever parted, but he would have been alive, and not a collection of bones in a glorified chest sent to be buried in a crypt that had since been taken over by Ironmen.

While she would expect nothing less from Sansa, Cat could not deny she was a little bewildered by Cersei's pleas for mercy on Ned's behalf. She briefly thought it may have been so leftover loyalty to Robert, but quickly dismissed the notion. Cersei had no loyalty to any but her own; no doubt she knew that such a death, such a blow, would only enrage the north and set them on the path of war they had all been doomed to since that day. It was true if Ned's life had been spared, Robb would not have been so eager to war, and perhaps peaceful agreements could have been made to gain Sansa and Arya. But Joffrey had dismissed his Mother's wishes, and sentenced her beloved Ned to a death he did not earn; he was no traitor, Catelyn knew, as she would always know.

"So, my lady, why is it I find myself in the company of such well-born inmates?" The man asked, and Cat sighed for she knew she had no choice but to answer. He had shared his story and so she must share hers.

"I am here as hostage to ensure my son's life. My first son...and my last," She added in a murmur, her thoughts turning to Bran and Rickon as they often did, "I am sure the news of the wedding celebration has reached you, ser, if not before your entry here then certainly after"

"You hear no words in the forests, my lady, where there are no people and there are no ravens, there is no news. And here I find the conversation even less"

Cat sighed yet again, and prepared herself for further speech. Though she saw the massacre in her mind's eye everytime she slept, she had not needed to speak of it with anyone thus far, for all in Frey's walls had been present. This would be her first time voicing the incident and she found the task a harder one than she would have believed.

"My brother had married one of the Frey girls. It was only while we were in celebration that the doors were closed and a brutal slaughter began" She told him, "None but Robb escaped, and only through a bargain that has me in this cell before you, ser"

"At a wedding..." The man repeated softly, and there was some comfort to be found in the disgust in his voice. Murder at a wedding was a thing unheard and she was certain that beyond the Lannisters, the Freys would gain no allies from such an action, but only further prove to those around him that he was a Lord most untrustworthy.

"He violated Guest Right?" The man asked, and though Cat remained silent, he knew her answer was 'yes', "That is to break an oath with the Gods themselves; they will never forgive such a thing"

"Then let them bring all the punishments of the seven Hells upon him soon," Cat whispered, pleading for it more than she had made any prayer, with as much fervour as she had given to her pleas for Bran's life when he had been pushed from the window at Winterfell.


There was further conversation between the two cell mates, and Cat had found Ser Victor to be a small comfort in a dark time. Though it seemed such interaction was frowned upon by the Freys, or gave great concern for the Lord himself (an ally alone was less worrisome than allies together) as after a few days, Cat was informed she was being moved to a cell more befitting a Lady of her rank and station.

As she had been led away, she had caught a final glimpse of Ser Victor and was finally able to put a true face to the voice. There had been a soft smile between the two of them, an understanding between comrades, before Cat had been taken around the corner and out of sight, and she had wondered whether she would ever come across the former Kingsguard again.

Now, she was being kept to one of the many rooms in the twins, only slightly smaller than the one she had been confined to with her father after her act of treason in letting Jaime go. If she hadn't sent him with Brienne would the wedding slaughter have happened? No matter how spurned Lord Walter had been by Robb's marriage to Jeyne, no Lannister would have supported a massacre while Jaime was was still in their cells surely? It was impossible to know, just as impossible as it had been to foretell the future and where actions and events would lead them. If they knew such things, the war would be won already, but alas, it raged on relentlessly, as though there would never be an end in sight.

Cat watched from her window, gazing across the green fields and the rushing water, seeing the horses and their riders come and go from the keep. Where do their hearts lie, she wondered. Though they held the Frey sigil on their breast, was that the nature of their true alliance? One was never sure. Cat began to think that sigils held no use or purpose, if men were so prone to breaking oaths and changing sides as the winds changed direction.

Margaryt was still her maid, that luxury had not been taken in exchange for the room thank the Gods, and while the nine year old knew relatively little of the goings on of the castle, she still gave Cat far more information than anyone else who passed her by and for that she was grateful.

"Milord is not in the best of minds today, Milady," Margaryt told her, "He has a right temper on him"

"I begin to doubt he has any other disposition than displeasure," Cat replied.

"He has many a ravens coming and going, some as say they're from the Lannisters"

"The Lannisters?" Cat asked, turning around in her chair to look at the girl, her interest fully piqued. Anything directly to do with the Lannisters was of possible importance, and Cat wished to know all she could.

"Yes, milady," The girl nodded. She began whispering again, as she always did when she felt she was sharing an important secret, "Apparently, it's said that Lord Tywin himself is to be visiting"

"Lord Tywin?" Cat repeated, "Is he not the King's Hand? I would have thought leaving King's Landing would not be a path easily decided"

The girl shrugged, not quite understanding, "I do not know, Milady. Must be it's important. It's quite exciting I think; every says that Lord Tywin is as handsome as a lion"

"And as vicious as one as well," Cat added, indicating for the girl to continue braiding her hair. Twin Lannister making his way to the Twins; she was not entirely sure of her thoughts on the matter, but there was one thing for certain- she did not think it boded well.