May the Gods accept my son, Catelyn struggled to hold back tears. She had been kept at the rear, where it was expected she would be in no danger. Robb was confident, certain victory was near, just like all the other occasions he had ridden into battle.
Yet there had been no sign of him. Ignoring pleas from her bannermen, Catelyn had rushed over to the retreating Northmen, desperate to find Robb. Many failed to notice her in their desperation to get to where they felt was safe.
Lady Catelyn:
Your son's attack has failed and he is now my prisoner. If you wish to see Robb spared, you will cross the river alone into my encampment and accept the surrender terms I offer you. Agree to them, and your remaining men will be spared. Refuse and they will pay the piece.
Note that I will consider any attempt to buy time or ambiguous response as a refusal and act accordingly. You have until the sun falls to respond.
Joffrey Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm
Catelyn read the letter out loud to the bannermen assembled around her. A few screamed and cursed, but most stood there in quiet rage. She listened intently for a new plan of attack, some way the Lannisters could still be defeated. Without Robb, no one appeared certain of what to do.
"I will cross the river and negotiate with the King," Catelyn decided after some hesitation.
"It's a trap, My Lady," Royce warned. "King Joffrey will kill you as well if you cross the river."
"A risk I must take," Catelyn braced herself for the inevitable.
"My Lady, please consider what you are doing!" Maege Mormont implored of her. "If you cross that river, we cannot protect you, and we cannot trust a man like Joffrey Lannister to keep his word! Your husband has already died at his hand!"
"And if I do not go, my son will suffer the same fate." Catelyn forced back the rage inside her at Ned's death. "What else would you have me do, my Lords? Shall we make another attempt across the river?" For a moment, she was tempted to take up arms herself. Catelyn knew she would not be the first woman to lead an army, and she had sat on enough war councils to understand strategy.
We still have the Vale. The Imp's cutthroats could make things dangerous for the smallfolk, but posed no serious threat to their sovereignty. Lysa, however, was not a brave woman and had only acted. . . after the Lannisters announced Baelish had been executed.
"Prepare a boat for me," Catelyn eventually ordered. A few of her bannermen frowned, but moved to obey her orders. At least Arya is out of their hands. Her younger daughter, at least, was safe at Winterfell.
XXXXX
"You shouldn't have agreed to surrender to them." Robb turned his head to look at his mother. Her face was expressionless, but he had no trouble reading her anxiety. "I didn't want you anywhere near the Lannisters."
"I wasn't going to leave you to their mercy," Catelyn decided. "They threatened to kill you if I didn't comply."
"They're going to do that anyway, as they did to Sansa." Robb clenched his fists. He'd been escorted into one of the enemy tents with several Lannister bannermen outside. Robb could not have escaped even if he'd had the strength to do so. "I'm going to be executed, but I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to put yourself in such danger."
"You're my son. I don't need any other reason." Catelyn placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off. Robb refused to show weakness when he was in enemy captivity.
However tempted he was to pace around, he resisted the urge. Robb knew Joffrey and Tywin were trying to break him by making him wait. They wanted him off-balance, frightened, angry. I won't give them what they want. So he hoped, at least. Robb wasn't certain whether he could control himself at Joffrey's presence. Sansa was an innocent soul and however much he wanted to deliver justice, he couldn't.
"Robb. . . I know this is going to be painful to hear, but bending the knee would be best." Catelyn counseled.
"You would have me surrender to them?" Robb spoke with quiet fury, ensuring the guards couldn't hear their conversation.
"I mourn for Sansa and Ned as well, but consider our current position. You are their captive, we risked everything to win this battle, and we lost."
How did this happen? That the Lannisters matched him in numbers and held a superior defensive position hadn't fazed him any. Robb had won battles against worse odds and Joffrey was a boy playing at war; so he believed. Was there anything he'd done wrong, a mistake he'd made? The new weapons were a surprise, but he compensated for them. They were slow and could only fire so many times.
He'd been certain fording the river during nighttime would allow him to seize victory. Maybe I was deluding myself. His men had believed he was invincible. Robb wondered if he fell victim to his own hype.
Joffrey marched into the tent, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He wore a small smile on his face, hands behind his back. Robb looked for an opening, but even if he were armed, Barristan or Jaime would remove his head before he had an opportunity to try anything. "Robb, Lady Stark." Joffrey gave them a brief nod. "I trust you haven't been waiting long."
Robb saw Grey Wind's head in a large basket carried by Ser Balon Swann. He felt his blood boil at the thought of his direwolf butchered. "You dare. . ."
"Your direwolf attempted to kill me," Joffrey spoke casually. "He failed to do so. Not a bad plan, I grant you, but I'm aware of what a dire wolf's capabilities are." Jaime wore his usual smirk, standing alongside his supposed nephew and secret son. Robb shuddered at the idea of him and his sister coupling together.
"Lord Joffrey, let us begin this discussion." Catelyn kept her tone diplomatic.
"You will refer to him as 'Your Grace', or I will have your tongue removed," Mandon Moore threatened.
"We really don't have much to discuss." Joffrey sat down. "You're in no position to offer terms, in case the reality of your situation has yet to sink in. You set my kingdom on fire for ambition and revenge. I hope you have a very good reason why I shouldn't execute you both."
"You tortured and murdered my sister!" Robb slammed his fists on the table. Joffrey's guards put their hands on swords but Joffrey revealed no response. "You had my father killed! You dare speak to me about atrocities?" Catelyn put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"No, Lord Baelish had your father killed, both because I would get the blame for it and because Eddard possessed his greatest desire." Joffrey's eyes went to Catelyn. "And you thought he got over you."
"Your Grace, the battle is over." Catelyn's eyes glinted with danger. "There is no need to continue with such falsehoods."
"What would I have to gain from killing him? Ned was far more useful to me alive. Killing him ended any chance of ending this war. And I have still yet to hear any reason to spare your lives."
"You've won this battle, but you haven't won the war, Joffrey." Robb refused to use his proper title. "I still have all the might of the Vale behind me."
"Funny; I was told you were a competent commander." Joffrey pushed his feet onto the table. It took all Robb's self control not to punch the arrogant son of a bitch. "And you never lost a battle. . . until now. Starting a war you couldn't win wasn't very smart of you, and now thousands are dead for it."
"I was right about you from the beginning. A second Mad King."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "If I was this 'Mad King', neither you nor your mother would still be alive. All my captives would be burned alive." He folded his hands and put his feet onto the floor. "However amusing it is to listen to your futile anger, we do have a surrender to arrange."
"We can still hurt you. No army has ever managed to survive an invasion to the North."
"Perhaps you can," Joffrey shrugged. "But your position grows weaker by the day. I'm to marry Margaery Tyrell the moment I return to King's Landing, with all the power of Highgarden behind me. Your men are demoralized, broken, and wish to go home. As your house words say, 'Winter is Coming.' How long will you last without food imports from the South?"
"What are your terms?" Robb choked back his rage.
"First of all, both of you will come to me to King's Landing and publicly declare me the true King. You will apologize for your treason and beg for mercy, which I will grant. . . to a point."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't intend to execute you, provided you don't force my hand. And you'll be able to see Lady Sansa again, at least for a short time."
"You wish to display her corpse to us?" Catelyn's stoic demeanor broke and tears rolled down her eyes.
"No, she's still alive, or she was when I left."
"I saved your daughter's life, Lady Catelyn." Jaime Lannister flashed a smirk at them. "Varys had a few of her birds attempt to murder her. It was too late for her friend, but I managed to prevent any further damage."
"You're lying," Robb said immediately. Joffrey had boasted about the murder, and the Kingslayer attempted to cover up for him.
"You can visit her once we arrive at King's Landing," Joffrey declared. "Granted, she was still in a coma when I departed, but Grand Maester Pycelle is doing everything in his power to ensure her survival."
"Why should we believe a word you say?" Catelyn spoke. "Petyr is my oldest friend. He would never betray me."
Joffrey broke out laughing. "You haven't spent much time in King's Landing, have you? Some will betray even their family for power. We're only beginning to discover the damage Baelish has caused to the realm. He was obsessed with you, bragged about taking your maidenhead at court. It was his favorite story." Catelyn blushed bright red at his words.
"So what terms do you offer us?" Robb intervened. He wished to spend no more time in Joffrey's presence than necessary.
"You order the Tullys to submit to the Iron Throne as well. The North will pay increased taxes to the crown for a decade. This is to help pay for the damage you caused."
"What we caused?" Robb glared. "Tywin marched into the riverlands, with his brigands raping, pillaging, and burning everything in their path!"
"I've read enough reports to know you did the same in the Westerlands. I'm not interested in a pissing contest as to whom committed worse atrocities. As a gesture of goodwill, the Tully will be allowed to remain Wardens and no additional taxes will be levied. If your bannermen wish for funds to repair their lands, you can negotiate with my grandfather for a loan."
"And what are you going to do with me?" Robb questioned.
"Once you swear loyalty to me in King's Landing, you will be allowed to return to Winterfell. There is a catch, however. Your family will no longer be Wardens of the North. That title will be given to someone more deserving."
"Joffrey. . . Your Grace. . ." Robb choked on the words. "My family has ruled the North for thousands of years."
"Yes, interesting how long families last in Westeros. So unlike. . . never mind, I'm getting off track." Joffrey brushed it aside with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps you should have considered the consequences before rebelling against the crown. I'm not stripping Winterfell away and giving it to the new warden, so count your blessings." His eyes narrowed. "I'm sure the Dreadfort will be perfectly suitable."
Robb stood up. Jaime's hand went to his sword in case he tried anything. Bolton. . . He'd heard nothing from the man since sending him to harass the Lannister camp as a distraction. Far as he could tell, the Lannisters had suffered no losses. Now Bolton's the Warden of the North. Robb doubted that was a coincidence.
"You're the one who started the war." Joffrey crossed his arms. "Lady Catelyn seized my uncle without cause and carted him off to the Vale. Her sister attempted to murder him, only sparing him due to Lord Bronn's intervention."
"And that justifies. . ."
"Shut it, Stark. I'm not interested in listening to self-righteous bullshit."
"I had good reason to believe your Uncle was responsible for the attempt on my son's life." Catelyn pushed her chair aside. "I intended to find out the truth."
"This would be far easier if you didn't have your head wedged up your ass. Yes, I know I'm supposed to conduct this meeting with courtesy, but there is only so much stupidity I can tolerate. Tell me, what evidence did you have my Uncle was guilty?" He looked over at Jaime, who had removed his mocking smile and replaced it with a furious glare.
"I found his dagger in the hands of the man he hired. It was made of Valyrian Steel. Petyr confessed to losing it to Tyrion in a joust when his brother was unhorsed."
"You threatened my brother's life because you were stupid enough to trust a man like Baelish?" Jaime sneered. "And here I thought my opinion of you couldn't get lower. Tyrion never bets against me, which you'd know if you had bothered to speak to anyone else in King's Landing."
"My Kingdom has suffered far too much due to your foolishness," Joffrey added. "You did nothing to prove my Uncle was responsible, which he isn't. Tyrion's an alcoholic and whoremonger, but not a murderer." Robb's face darkened at such language being used in front of his mother. "Your idiocy tore the realm apart even before my father died. Your husband was a fool to validate your actions, though I know he was acting out of devotion. Because of what you did, you caused the death of Ned Stark and countless others. The damage you cause ends now."
Catelyn kept her face expressionless, though Robb knew she wanted to break down. "My father was a good man, an honorable man, and you besmirch his memory?" Robb cursed ever losing to a boy like Joffrey.
"He was; I don't dispute that. Unfortunately, good people don't always make good leaders. Like you, Catelyn, he trusted Baelish, and it led to his downfall." Robb would never believe Joffrey was innocent of murdering his father. No doubt Baelish was a viper, as most were in King's Landing, but the King was a monster. "But we are here to discuss your surrender. In addition to my previous terms, Lady Catelyn, you will write a letter to your brother telling him submit to the Iron Throne. I don't expect he'll want to lose a sibling."
"And what do we get in return?" Catelyn asked in a defeated tone.
"You get to live and keep most of your titles. I will require hostages from your prominent bannerman as well to ensure nobody else gets any ideas." Robb muttered curses under his breath. "Out with it, Robb."
"I don't recommend pushing us into a corner," Robb narrowed his eyes. "However, I do have. . . one request and that is for my family to remain Wardens of the North. My bannermen will not follow Roose Bolton."
"I will stay at King's Landing to ensure my son's obedience," Catelyn spoke up.
"That's already been decided for you, so it isn't a concession," Jaime mocked.
"You haven't lost Winterfell, or your lives, so be grateful." Joffrey smirked. "I expect, were our positions reversed, I could expect no mercy from you." Robb would have been happy to give Joffrey to Lord Bolton, at least if the man hadn't betrayed him.
"I want my sister's bones returned to Winterfell." Robb would not budge on that. "She deserves to be at peace alongside her ancestors."
"Hard to do, considering she's still among the living. Isn't burying someone alive cruel for a Stark?" Jaime mocked. Joffrey raised a hand before Robb could respond.
"I'm aware you don't believe me, which is precisely what Varys hoped for. Once we arrive at King's Landing, visit her as often as you like."
"Assuming you're telling the truth, what happens to her?" Catelyn kept her voice from sounding too desperate.
"Like you, she'll stay at King's Landing. Lady Sansa has shown little inclination to leave. Surprising, considering the city's a shithole with a pit of vipers in the center." They argued for a while longer, but Robb saw no way around the King's terms. With his men broken and demoralized, he didn't have the energy to fight on.
"You leave us with little," Robb rebuked.
"Woe to the vanquished, Stark." Joffrey smiled. "I've learned better than to offer traitors lenient terms."
The North Remembers, Joffrey, Robb thought to himself. He'd do what was necessary to keep his family alive, but he would not forget. Bolton wouldn't keep his position long, not if he had anything to say about it. His bannermen would not follow a traitor.
That went surprisingly well, Matthew mused on the negotiations. Stubborn and furious as Robb was, he still had to recognize when he was in a hopeless position. Had he chosen to fight on, the battle would be his, but the Northerners could still inflict much harm upon him. Keeping Catelyn hostage would ensure the Riverlords bent the knee as well.
Matthew doubted Bolton would be able to keep the North for long, especially with Ramsey as a liability. The Starks were loved and respected by their bannermen, whereas the Boltons would only be feared. Worse, they would be known as traitors to their brethren.
However, the infighting would mean the threat Stark posed would be neutralized. Even if triumphant, Robb wouldn't possess the strength for a second attempt, even leaving out the hostages in King's Landing. "How wonderful! You're having the savages kill each other!"
I think I preferred your insults, Joffrey. Matthew groaned, tired of listening to him. He didn't care how much Joffrey screamed, but when the psychopath approved of his actions, Matthew worried.
XXXXX
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Arya held the dragon egg, never imagining she'd ever see one for real. At first, she was positive it was a replica, but after some private research in Winterfell's library, the truth became apparent. Why a dragon egg was hidden underneath her Aunt Lyanna's grave, however, she did not know.
She hadn't spoken a word to anyone about what she found, not even her brothers. The egg felt. . . felt alive, not a relic of days gone by. Part of Arya imagined flying on the back of a dragon, as Visenya and Rhaenys had during the Conquest of Westeros.
But she had the strong feeling the egg wasn't meant for her. I can't show it to anyone. They wouldn't understand.
Arya's ears perked up at the sounds of fighting outside her chambers. She jumped up, knocking the egg onto the floor, and grabbed Needle by her bedside. Arya heard demands to withdraw but from what she could hear, no one was listening.
"I knew I'd find you here." Reek grinned, hands behind his back. Arya drew Needle at the sight of him, aiming the point at his throat. Sounds of fighting echoed throughout Winterfell.
Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya nevertheless found herself backing away from the sight of Reek. "Get out of my room right now, or I'll have you executed!" She shrieked.
"Oh, I don't think you're going to be in any position to pull that off." Reek laughed. Arya's nose curled at the smell of him. He shut the door and marched forward with a predatory grin on his face.
Fear cuts deeper than swords! Fear cuts deeper than swords! Arya's back hit the wall. "Touch me and I'll kill you!" Her eyes darted around for a possible exit route. With her guards dead and no one capable of assisting her at that moment, she didn't know if it was possible. Her hands shook, sweat dripping into her eyes.
"Ramsey's wanted you from the beginning, but he's allowed me to have a taste of you first." Reek licked his lips. "Your family's time is done." He allowed himself a small laugh. "I've never had a Stark girl before."
Arya trembled despite herself, no longer capable of speech. Reek approached her, step by step, until he was only a foot out of reach of her blade. She would not fall into his grip, no matter what it took. "Get away from me!" Arya thrusted the sword in his direction, forcing Reek to jump back. Her cut only drew a slight amount of blood, amusing him.
"Put that toy away; you're not going to do anything to me." Reek pulled out a sword much thicker than Needle. Arya moved from side to side, desperate for a way to escape. "Tell me: do you want to survive this? You'll. . ." Reek swung his sword. Arya ducked and aimed the point at his chest. The point bounced off the breastplate hidden underneath his clothes. "Bitch!"
Arya did not respond. Young as she was, she understood killing him was the only way to survive. Reek swung at her, using his sword as a butcher's cleaver. Arya ducked and evaded each one, searching for an opening in his defense. Reek's snarl sounded like nothing human.
Adrenaline allowed her to escape from Reek's grip, her small frame sufficient to avoid significant harm. Arya pierced his clothing several times, but never in an unprotected area. Reek quickened his pace, swinging his sword widely, with little care or attention to his surroundings.
Arya ducked underneath another swing, Reek's sword getting stuck in her dresser. She aimed a desperate thrust through his throat, Needle coming out the other side of Reek's body. He gurgled and clutched the wound, his sword forgotten. Arya stabbed him through the eye, refusing to give him another opportunity to harm her.
She fell to her knees, taking in what had happened. If Reek had shown more intelligence, if he had brought in his guards as well. . . Arya knew she would not have escaped his clutches. How am I supposed to get past them? None of Bolton's loyalists had responded to her efforts. Quiet as a shadow. If they hadn't acted, they assumed Reek had triumphed.
Arya creeped to the door, Needle in hand. She looked down at the floor, making out those standing outside her chambers. Her blood froze, knowing she would only have one opportunity. Arya's fingers curled around the doorknob, gathering her courage. She took a deep breath and threw the door open.
Reek's first guard had Needle plunged into his throat before he had a chance to respond. His second goon jumped back, hand reaching for his sword. Arya sidestepped him and stabbed his arm just as he drew, her opponent possessing no more than a breastplate and helmet.
Rodick Cassel came up from behind, cutting his throat before he could react. "Come on, we've got to get out of here!" Blood dripped down a wound on his face.
"What about Bran and Rickon?" For the first time, Arya found herself grateful Sansa was at King's Landing.
"Ramsey's holding them hostage; moved fast before anyone could stop him." Sword clashes throughout Winterfell emphasized his point. "We will get them free, but that will take time. Come on!" He looked ready to drag Arya along with him.
I'll kill you for this! Arya fantasized about shoving Needle through Ramsey's throat. She'd tried to warn them about Bolton's bastard, but since she was a child, and a girl, they had dismissed her words as hysterical.
Rodrick led her through the castle, throwing a hood over her head. "I know you're wishing to help, but right now, your best chance is getting out of this place alive." Arya scowled at being treated like a child. He'd never approved of training her and only did so because Bran insisted. "And sheathe your sword. It's far too recognizable."
However much Arya wanted to argue with him, she couldn't deny it made sense. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She kept her hand ready to draw it regardless. Stark and Bolton loyalists fought in every room, paying little attention to two individuals attempting a discreet exit of the castle.
"I told you he was dangerous!" Arya whispered, no longer able to contain her frustration. "I knew he couldn't be trusted, and said you should throw him out of the castle!"
"I apologize for the error, My Lady, but we can discuss this once we're out of here." The duo spotted several Stark bannermen finishing off their opponents. Rodrick approached them and ordered: "We need to get Lady Arya out of Winterfell. Give us as much time as you can and provide a distraction for us before the bastard finds out where we've gone!"
Arya recognized each of them: smallfolk whom her father had agreed to train and house in exchange for their loyalty. All of them nodded, knowing how unlikely it was they would survive the current battle.
"So tell me: what happened?" Arya demanded to be informed. Despite Rodrick's warning, she pulled out Needle, refusing to be defenseless a second time.
"The bastard promised to reinforce our defenses in case the wildlings breached the Wall, but it was a trick." Rodrick spoke as they ran. A Bolton man attempted to intercept them, but he cut him down without breaking stride. "His bastard's boys ambushed our men, took Bran and Rickon captive before anyone could react. I knew I had to reach you before the same happened."
Should have slit his throat when I first saw him. Arya snarled, attempting to keep her grip on Needle and the dragon egg at the same time. They wandered through the corridors of Winterfell, forced to rely on dim light to find their way around. The sounds of battle faded, though her grip on Needle was as strong as ever.
"There's a passage leading to the outside of the castle," Rodrick led her to the catacombs. "From there, we'll be able to find a couple horses, but we've got to hurry. I trust you know the way?"
"We're going to have a long talk about this when we get clear," Arya nodded. Only a handful of torches were lit, in sharp contrast to her previous visit. I can lead us through; I remember the way. She quickened her pace, wandering silently though the catacombs.
She ignored the growing cold, relying on her memory to guide her. Arya could see naught but a few shadows, with all the torches out. Despite the danger, she slowed her pace, heart racing with the knowledge that a single slip could be deadly. Rodrick's footsteps echoed behind her, lacking Arya's stealth.
She turned her head and pressed her ear against the stones to ensure they were not being followed. Did anyone notice them? See them in the chaos? Arya's breath quickened at the thought. "I don't hear anyone coming behind us." Rodrick attempted to reassure.
Arya clutched the dragon egg with all her strength. It gave her comfort, heat radiating from Lyanna's gift. Even if it wasn't meant for her, the egg was the only thing she had of an aunt she'd always been told she resembled. Arya bit her lip to keep from trembling.
"So where are we going to go?" Arya demanded as they climbed out of the catacombs. She shivered from the breeze, a remainder that winter was on its way.
"The only place we can go, a place where no Northman, even those loyal to Bolton, would dare to assault," Rodrick responded. "Castle Black." Arya felt her heart lighten at those words. Jon had always been her favorite brother, bastard or not.
Behind them, a pair of blue eyes stared.