AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all that have followed and reviewed. After publishing the Prologue, I had to revise some of the key plot points of A Clash of Kings, so this story can make sense. Please, let me know what you think of this chapter. Stay safe!
CATELYN
Catelyn Stark's eyes were closed, but she was not sleeping.
Her lips kept moving in silent prayer.
The sight of the shadow-form creature advancing toward Renly, with a sword ready to pierce his heart, made her wonder about the mysteries of the unknown. She suspected such a haunting sight would torment her for many years to come. She had never believed in magic, smiling whenever Old Nan told the children about wargs, the Children of the Forest and dragons. Yet, what she had felt in the king's pavilion hours ago had proved the visible threats of the world were nothing compared to the forces they couldn't master. A part of her was still astounded by the quick instinct that had come to her.
Nevertheless, the creature had pierced her courage and left a wound in the form of a new fear. A shiver went down her spine again, as she imagined a shadow-creature in the form of Tywin Lannister piercing Robb's heart or throwing Bran's from the top of a tower. The only remedy at hand was prayer, or so she hoped – if not, at least she could find some solace in the light of the Seven.
Outside her pavilion, the future of the Realm was being decided. The abominable attempt on Renly's life had proven to any living man that there was something wicked about Stannis and his consorting with shadowbinders. After barely surviving the attack, Renly had been very resolute in its decision to make Stannis pay. And so, the battle had started. A song of swords clashing, of horses' hooves drumming through the ground and screams of men perishing. The terrors of the night had been broken by a dawning red as blood, with hundreds dead and thousands injured.
Oh, Ned, she whispered, knelt on the ground of her small pavilion.
Seven candles were lit in front of her, aligned on top of a wooden chest. She longed for those days before Robert had come up when the only looming threat had been the coming Winter. Her heart ached for her children, for her girls still trapped in that reeking city, for her eldest playing a game he had not yet completely understand and for the youngest waiting back at Winterfell.
May the Seven keep them, she repeated.
The roars coming from the battlefield made her shiver. Something was happening nearby, she realized. A rustling outside her tent confirmed her suspicion, making her open her eyes. Men were galloping back to the camp, many of them singing and screaming what seemed to be a victorious hymn.
"My lady?" The voice of Ser Wendel Manderly came from outside. "May we enter?"
Catelyn gulped, quickly making the seven-pointed-star gesture across her face and getting up. Considering herself in the small mirror next to the bed, she recomposed her dress and her hair before pulling the flaps of the pavilion.
"Ser Wendel, I presume you bring news?"
Ser Wendel Manderly was not alone. Right behind him came Ser Perwyn Frey, Lucas Blackwood and Robin Flint – the lordlings part of her entourage. Robb had made sure she was accompanied by a small force composed by at least twenty of his best men.
"Lady Stark, it seems the battle is over."
There was no doubt about that, as the clamour around camp grew every second that passed.
"Renly Baratheon was victorious", she said.
All four of the young lords nodded.
"Well, there is no surprise there." Once again, the image of the shadow creature reminded her the day could have started in a very different way.
Everyone was aware that Stannis had barely the numbers to snatch a victory– even if he had a better claim, a sorcerer at his side and will to fight. From what Wendel had estimated, Renly had around eighteen thousand men against Stannis' seven thousand.
"It seems Lord Renly has set himself in the castle," Added Ser Lucas Blackwood.
Catelyn nodded, suspecting the camp would soon become a tavern and whorehouse.
"Well, then we must go pay him a final visit," Catelyn replied, looking around. There was not much to take with her, besides a chest with a few clothes.
Not long after, she was climbing on her horse with the help of Robin Flint and making her way toward Storm's End. One of the Northmen in the vanguard carried the banner with the direwolf of House Stark, opening a path through the chaos of the camp.
The soldiers returning from the battlefield had fresh wounds on their limbs and smiles on their lips. Ignoring the blood on their armors and the dead left behind, they were indeed celebrating. Barrels of wine were being pulled from tents and opened to serve the deserved refreshments of victory. As a group of soldiers set Stannis' banner aflame, a carriage with Maesters stopped, calling for any men seriously injured.
And with disdain, Catelyn took notice of a group of camp followers. The girls were singing an obscene song, offering the comfort and company of their warm bodies. From the corner of her eye, she saw Perwyn Frey throwing a coin to one of the girls, who in response flashed the flower under her skirt. The group of men all around her laughed and whistled.
This is how bastards are born, she thought to herself, uncomfortable.
Storm's End loomed not far, surrounded by the sea in the East and the wreckage of the battle in the West. The air was heavy with smoke, mingling with a thin cloak of early morning mist. Carefully, the company advanced, navigating the rocky terrain and deflecting the bands of soldiers already drunk or injured, making their way to the camp. A few were scavenging the corpses of the fallen, looking for treasures of war.
There were dozens of corpses, most of them young, just as she knew it would be. She couldn't help but feel a tear rolling down her cheek, wiping it away brusquely. The dead were lost among trampled banners of Houses serving both sides. Once more, she said a prayer for the fallen fighters, asking the Warrior to embrace them in his strong arms. She noticed also that there were fires here and there, most of them extinguished already, but a few still burning. Perhaps the red priestess of Stannis had attempted more of her tricks…
Or perhaps not, she said to herself, approaching the castle.
A close glance to the walls of Storm's End revealed more chaos and destruction. The walls were intact, but on their shadow, the camp of Stannis Baratheon was engulfed in flames. A column of black smoke rose as high as the single tower of the castle.
"It's poetic," Ser Wendel noticed, riding his horse alongside Catelyn. "The bards will sing about the king who played with fire and got burnt."
It was poetic indeed, but Catelyn simply nodded, not indulging poesy at this time. After all, Stannis was not the first king to play with fire and being burnt – and she suspected he wouldn't be the last.
Another surprise waited for them at the gates. Half a dozen heads had been placed on spikes along the battlements. She commanded her horse to stop, so she could take a more careful look to the freshly cut heads. The men behind her stopped too.
"Do you recognize any of them?" Ser Wendel asked.
"Yes," Catelyn replied, clenching the reins. "That one is the old and sour Lord Adrian Celtigar. He dined at Riverrun once, when I was nothing but a little girl."
There were four more men beside Lord Adrian, but she couldn't recognize their faces paralyzed in agony. Stannis, she noticed, was not among them. Neither was the man serving as his Hand, the one that had been presented as Lord Davos Seaworth during the parley the day before. Yet she noticed an old woman, in the form of a terrible and skeletal head, with white hair and unsettling red eyes.
"And I suspect that one to be the red priestess", she shared, before commanding her horse to resume its way. Those red eyes were unique.
A few soldiers received them at the courtyard, letting the northern company through after identifying the Stark sigil. There was no peace here also. Hundreds of soldiers were being lined against a wall or being led to the dungeons. She recognized the silver seahorse in the breastplate of a soldier sworn to House Velaryon and another avowed to House Celtigar, clutching a shield with crabs. They had fought for Stannis and they had survived – now was time to turn their coats or to face the dungeons.
Lost in the crowd, Catelyn looked around, searching for a familiar face. Thankfully, Ser Parmen Crane came riding towards them. Also known as Ser Parmen the Purple from the Rainbow Guard, the knight had been overlooking the prisoners. The low-ranking soldiers were registering the name of every single man, before sending them to the dungeons underneath Storm's End.
"Lady Stark, I'm glad to see you have come," He greeted her curtly, climbing down from his horse.
Catelyn nodded, dismounting and delivering the reins of her mount to Ser Wendel.
"You can wait here." She told him while caressing the nuzzle of her horse. "Be prepared to leave as soon as I return."
The kingsguard led her away from the courtyard, through a set of staircases that ended with the main door to the famous drumming tower of Storm's End. She had never been at the castle but had grown up hearing the tales surrounding it. With a smile, she recognized the legend told in the tapestries covered the walls of the great hall. There it was, with bright colors – the legendary figures of Durran Godsgrief and Elenei and their war against the sea god and the goddess of the wind. The light coming from the windows granted an eerie touch to the tapestries, as the smell of salt, smoke and candlewax perfumed the air.
Lordlings and servants filled the corridors and chambers. She had a chance to pass by Lord Tarly – that seemed safe and sound, except for a scratch in his face – and to see that Lady Arwyn Oakheart was also present, conversing with the Lord Commander of her army. Acknowledging both of them with a simple nudge of her head, Catelyn Stark kept following Ser Parmen, climbing a set of stairs.
The soft and rhythmic song of the sea echoed through the tower, muffling the voices left behind on the lower floor.
"I must take this moment to thank you, Lady Stark." Ser Parmen said, after a few seconds of silence. "His Majesty would be dead if it were not you."
Catelyn gulped, humbly shaking her head.
"I may have stopped the shadow, ser. But it was Lady Brienne who fought it. If it had not been for her, His Majesty would be dead."
"Yes, so I heard," the knight replied, with a sourer tone. A woman defending the king better than any other kingsguard should have stricken a chord in the pride of the others.
"And how is Lady Brienne?" Catelyn pressed, remembering how the woman was bleeding after her duel.
"She will live." Ser Parmen told, barely hiding his resent. "Maester Jurne is taking care of her."
"I'm glad. She was born to have a sword in her hands," Catelyn added with a teasing smile.
"As you say, my lady"
"Tell me, ser. Was Lord Stannis captured?"
"The blasphemous traitor refused to surrender." Ser Parmen confided, slightly more confident. "Lord Randyll Tarly had to fight him to death. It was the only way to stop him, even though His Majesty had intentions to capture his brother alive. Even so, out of respect for his corpse, His Majesty insisted the body should be brought to the dock—"
"The dock?"
"It's supposed to have some significance."
Catelyn nodded, remembering what Ned had told her once. Yes, there was some significance in it, if her guess was right.
"I see. And the red priestess?"
"She is dead." Ser Parmen continued. "The witch made the fighting harder than it was supposed, conjuring a wall of fire that almost got us… A nice trick, but we managed to break it. Have you seen the head of an old hag on the wall? It's her head. She was a beauty, but underneath her spells, she was an old hag… It took three men to kill her and each one of them died with their insides reduced to ashes."
Catelyn shook her head, and made a gesture with a hand, begging to be spared of such grisly details. Ser Parmen scoffed, but he caught her hint.
"All the lords who refused to bend the knee to His Majesty were also executed. Velaryon, Celtigar, Chytterins and Follard – all of them are dead. More will be questioned in the next hours and—"
"And the Hand?"
"The Hand?"
"Seaworth, I believe he was called."
"Oh, the Onion Knight." Ser Parmen laughed as if it was a jest. "I imagine he is dead somewhere or lost among the prisoners. I'm sure that soon enough we will find him… But what can the old smuggler do?"
He can smuggle a princess, Catelyn thought to herself, nervously.
Stannis had a daughter – and Renly should make sure that young Shireen Baratheon wouldn't pose a threat to his claim. Even if the girl was scarred and had a feeble mind, she had still a better claim than Renly. Yet, she kept those thoughts to herself.
Catelyn imagined Ser Parmen would take her to the famous Round Hall of Storm's End or to a chamber where Renly would certainly be resting. Even so, she found the king in one of the stair landings. He stood in front of a window, overlooking the sea, still wearing his golden armor. His helmet was gone, allowing his long dark hair to fall on his back.
Keeping him company, was the Lord Commander Ser Loras Tyrell, whispering something only the king could hear. Another voice could be heard close by, noticed Catelyn. Her eyes darted quickly along the staircase leading to the top of the tower and finding that after another set of steps there was another stair landing with another window and two more figures. Quickly enough, she identified them. The old man would be the castellan of Storm's End that had sustained the siege – Ser Cortnay Penrose. He was accompanied by a young man that could have easily passed for Renly's son.
Another bastard, she gulped, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth. She had heard about the boy, yes, and knew perfectly well that his Father was not Renly.
"Your Grace", Ser Parmen announced, getting the attention of the small entourage. "I have brought you Lady Catelyn of House Stark."
As he turned, Catelyn noticed that, for once, Renly didn't resemble the lively image of a young Robert Baratheon, with an easy smile on his eyes and light words on his lips. His face was heavy.
As if he now knows the terrors of the world.
"Lady Stark, I'm glad you could join us." He said, making an effort to draw a smile. He opened his arms in a friendly way.
By the look on Ser Loras' face, Catelyn suspected the only one welcoming her was indeed the king.
"Your Majesty, I must congratulate you for your victory," Catelyn said, paying the necessary homage to boost Renly's confidence. She even bowed her head slightly, but not enough to let him think she saw him as her true king. "And I hope I'm not interrupting."
"No, you are most welcome, my good lady."
"I was hoping I could have a final word with you, Your Grace, before resuming my journey North."
"You can't be leaving so soon!" Renly replied promptly, more like his usual self. The smile, however, was just a shadow of his usual smirk. "You shall stay as my honored guest until the feast. It will take place within two or three nights, but I would be very honored to have you at my side and to let all my vassals know I'm alive because of you."
Feasts, tourneys, balls, she thought again, with a sign of impatience showing in her pleasantries shouldn't be on his mind until the fighting was properly done.
"I must thank you for such a generous offer, Your Grace, but I have to refuse. I stayed as your guest to witness the outcome of your negotiations with Lord Stannis, just as you requested. Now that the battle is won, I must reunite with my son and bring him the news and the terms of the alliance."
Renly contemplated her for a few seconds and gave up on trying to convince her to stay.
"Yes, I shall not detain you more than necessary." He averted his eyes to face Ser Loras. "Please, ser, leave us for a moment."
"Your Grace, but the ceremony—"
Renly placed a hand on Ser Loras' shoulder as if trying to reassure him of something.
"I'm perfectly well, ser."
Ser Loras nodded, not very happy with the king's insistence, but turned away and joined the castellan and the bastard child on the upper landing. He didn't look towards Catelyn, as she climbed the remaining steps of the staircase to join Renly on the windowsill. Behind her, Ser Parmen simply retreated, understanding his presence was not necessary at the moment.
From the window, it was possible to have a clear view of the Shipbreaker Bay.
Rocky and frequented by storms, it was named after the large number of ships that had been destroyed in its waters. Catelyn saw the pointed rocks emerging through the waves, like gnarling fingers trying to snatch a treasure from the sky. Once more, the legend of Durran and Elenei crossed her mind.
Standing in silence by Renly's side, she understood then why the king had his eyes set on the sea. There was a commotion on the docks built at the base of Storm's End. A dozen men were arranging a small boat, covering an armored body with a flag with the Baratheon sigil. Not the red banner with the fiery heart, but the golden one with the black stag.
"I don't remember the day my parents died," Renly told her softly, as if in need to explain what they were seeing. "But Robert and Stannis did. They were here, in one of these windows, watching my parents' ship navigating through the waves, wondering what marvellous gifts they would bring from across the Narrow Sea… But then the Windproud smashed against the rocks, and my parents die, proving they were just like any other. Only a fool survived, and the poor thing was left insane."
"Yes, I know the story," Catelyn confirmed. "Ned told me once."
"It seems only fitting that Stannis is delivered to the very same sea that took our parents from us," he continued, with a throaty voice. "He was not a sentimental man, but I believe he would have wanted this… Did you know he stopped believing in the Seven the very same day our parents died? Yes, it's true. Why would the Gods leave three infant boys alone in the world? That's what he used to ask old maester Colemon. It's no surprise at all that he resorted to another God, now that I think of it... One that allowed him some power."
The power to murder you.
"Yes," Catelyn said, feeling how the vanity had given place to the pain.
"I was never close to him. I don't even think I'm sad he is dead… There was no love between us", Renly quickly explained, trying to justify his noble act. He may not be sad for Stannis' death, but something was different in the man. A battle changed one's spirit. "But it's the right thing to do since I will never be able to wash his blood from my hands."
"It had to be his blood or yours." She replied, trying to comfort him. "From the moment things went sour during the parley meeting, it was a matter of time until one of you died."
Renly sniffed, nodding.
"Well, yes. Pardon me for burdening you with my feelings, good lady." He retorted, restoring the smile on his lips. "I believe you are getting more than you asked for. Let's talk about the terms of our alliance, shall we?"
Catelyn opened her mouth, decided to say something more to comfort Renly Baratheon – but as her eyes locked briefly with Ser Loras Tyrell, she understood it was not her place.
"I hope to deliver some useful information to my son and his advisors, Your Grace. Perhaps an estimate of how many men you can spare to help us put an end to the fighting in the Riverlands – as well as a date for the arrival of such reinforcements."
"This is a question yet to be debated by my council, Lady Stark. I can't compromise with numbers and dates just yet, even though I'm trying my best to do so. But you must be aware beforehand that Lord Tarly doesn't believe it wise to send troops to the Riverlands."
Catelyn clenched her fists.
"I had barely the opportunity to discuss the terms of such an alliance my council, but after the vow I swore to you last night, some of them expressed concern about the matter. They believe the Riverlands' war is a matter to be resolved by the Starks and the Tullys. Only after such a conflict is done, shall we consider an alliance with House Stark."
She suspected Renly's council had advised him not to make an alliance with the North that could potentially result in the fragmentation of the Seven Kingdoms. But no, she had not waited this long to be sent away with non-acceptable terms.
"What you propose may be called many things, Your Grace, but it's not an alliance," she retorted. "Do you expect my son to deal alone with a common enemy without any guarantee that you will respect his wishes for the North?"
To her surprise, Renly flashed a tired smile and nodded.
"Yes, yes. I agree with you, Lady Stark." He replied. "A force of two can better defeat a force of one. Lord Randyll will certainly be hard to convince, but that's a battle I will fight on my own. I intend to restore peace to the land before Autumn's end, so the Realm can face Winter with healed wounds. And as my brother once confided in your husband, I pray I can find the same friendship in your son."
May the Seven bless him, Catelyn said to herself, feeling relieved.
"Well, that my son will be glad to hear, Your Grace."
"I do believe we can better discuss terms once we sit in other circumstances," Renly continued, moving again his eyes to the waves crashing on the cliffs. The boat was almost ready, Catelyn noticed. "For now, please tell your son that I intend to send forty-thousand men to the Riverlands to help him deal with Lord Tywin. As I said, I will have to check with my commanders, but I believe I can spare those men to aid your son."
Renly could spare more men if what he had said to her was true. Besides the twenty thousand men that had just won the battle, he had around eighty thousand encamped at Bitterbridge – and more on the way. Yet, a force of forty thousand was a good start.
"Meanwhile, I shall convene with my council to decide on the next move, of course," Renly continued. "But I expect to march toward the capital within a few weeks. A few allies in the city tell me there is hope the capital will fall without much resistance."
"Do you have news from King's Landing?"
"Not many, my lady," He said, the smug smile crossing again his lips. "Last I have heard from a friend, I was told the kingslanders were not content. There is hunger in the streets, the commerce is failing, and the taxes imposed to anyone who tries to enter the city are provoking riots by the gates. And it seems the Imp is twisting everyone at court according to his devious will and is paying visits to the Pyromancers Guild…"
Wildfire.
Catelyn gulped.
"They are preparing themselves to defend the city."
"Just as we are preparing to attack it, yes," Renly replied. "Don't fret, Lady Stark. I also have a few tricks upon my sleeve…"
But she was worried, of course. Her father-in-law had died consumed by wildfire at the command of King Aerys, while Brandon Stark watched the spectacle, being strangled by a foreigner device. The idea of the Lannisters using wildfire to protect the city made her feel hopeless. And her girls still stuck in the centre of such intrigue—
"Do you have news about my daughters?"
Renly looked at her and shook his head.
"I would have already told you if I did, Lady Stark. I know only that Lady Sansa is still betrothed to Joffrey—"
"And nothing about Arya," Catelyn confirmed.
Renly nodded.
The terrible feeling of foreboding regarding Arya made her shiver once again.
I won't give up hope.
"I will do anything within my power to assure their safety, Lady Stark," He said. "Even if we come to battle, I have allies who may protect your daughters from inside the Red Keep—"
"How?"
"I don't have an answer yet, Lady Stark, but out of respect for you, I will find out more."
Catelyn nodded, feeling again powerless.
"All of this to say that I expect your son will meet me at the capital as soon as he is done with Tywin Lannister. If by any chance of fate, the city falls before the matter in the Riverlands is done, you have my word that I will gather all my army and reinforce the battle until peace is restored. Will that suffice, Lady Stark?"
"Yes, Your Grace. I do believe it will."
"And as I promised, Lady Stark, you shall have your justice. As soon as the fighting is done, I will call for a Great Council – not to decide the matter of succession, but so that the Realm can judge the Lannisters for their crimes."
A yell on the docks made them turn their attentions to what was happening outside. The boat had been released and was quickly taken by the furious waves. Drifting dangerously, both of them waited to see the small vessel being smashed by the dagger pointed rocks. The body was visible from afar for just an instant, before being gulped by the sea. The Baratheon banner drifted among the waves, among the wreckage of the vessel – the last vestige of a fallen king.
Renly shuddered, and there was no smile at his lips.
"Well, I won't take you anymore, Lady Stark." He said. "I wish you safe travels."
An hour later, as Storm's End disappeared behind her, Catelyn Stark clutched the reins of her mount and closed her eyes for a second. The wind caressed her face, disheveling her hair as a last prayer came to her lips.
"Let us have peace," she begged.