"MURDER!" Lysa was screeching at the top of her lungs. "MURDER!" She then collapsed back into her chair, weeping hysterically. Catelyn wanted to move over to comfort her crying sister, but her feet refused to move.
"Your Grace!" Her uncle the Blackfish appeared at her side, urgency in his blue eyes and his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword. "You must leave immediately!" His eyes fell upon Catelyn's half-filled wine goblet. "Did you drink it?"
Catelyn nodded, unable to speak.
Uncle Brynden sighed with relief. "Thank the Seven you are alive, Cat," he said gruffly. "If you were poisoned too…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't rest until the one responsible was caught and executed."
"Your allegiance is to the king first," Catelyn reminded him kindly. Shaking like a leaf, she stood up and surveyed the High Hall. There was widespread panic and fear. Men were brandishing their swords and women huddling in groups looking afraid. Catelyn felt someone tug at her skirts. She looked down and saw a scared Minisa attaching herself to her.
"Your Grace," Uncle Brynden said again. "You must leave. Allow Lady Arryn to deal with this matter – you must go!"
"What about my husband?" Catelyn felt a lump in her throat. Her late husband now. Robert was dead and their son Orys was now the king. "We…we cannot just leave him here," she said, swallowing her fearful thoughts. "He is – was – the king and he must be entombed under the Great Sept of Baelor as is proper."
"There are traitors in our midst Cat! You need not fear about the late king; I'm certain he will be entombed under the Great Sept of Baelor once everything here has settled down. The best plan is for you and your children to leave for a secure place, perhaps the North."
Catelyn shook her head. "You know as well as I do that the safest place in all of the Seven Kingdoms is here in the Eyrie. Besides, with Robert dead, Orys must be crowned in King's Landing. We must leave for King's Landing."
"Are you certain?" Uncle Brynden sounded unsure.
"Yes." Catelyn was firm in her decision. "Orys must be crowned. I'll help in any way I can to find who poisoned my late husband – once Orys is crowned the king. Orys is still young and not many lords will want a young king." She couldn't help glance at the body of her dead husband. Lord Stark knelt beside him, tears in his eyes. Catelyn knew her good-brothers well. Renly would have shed a tear but his brother Stannis would not. Neither would have wept as openly as Lord Stark, the very man Robert always viewed as a true brother. Sensing Catelyn's gaze, Eddard Stark looked up and his grey eyes met hers.
"My lords," Lord Stark said loudly, standing up and turning to the lords, ladies, knights and other guests in the High Hall. "My ladies, sers, King Robert of House Baratheon the First of His Name is dead. We have a new king." He turned. Catelyn watched his eyes – now determined – travel to her son Orys, who had maintained a solemn expression though he was paler due to shock. "His Grace, Orys of House Baratheon," Lord Stark declared steadily, "the First of His Name, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms." He bowed at Orys. Catelyn gazed at the people in the High Hall a second time, and to her relief, everyone present bowed or curtsied.
All except the Queen of Thorns.
"Thank you Lord Stark." Orys's voice was clear and firm. "My late father spoke of you highly and I will view your counsel greatly too." He hesitated momentarily. "My father's-" He broke off as the High Hall's great doors banged open and a boy of fifteen ran in. His tunic was half pale purple and half white, splashed with two knights combatant with swords, counter-charged. Catelyn squinted at him. There was something familiar about him…
"Bryen?" said Orys, frowning. "Bryen Farring?"
"My prince!" gasped the young man, rushing forward to the dais as many lords and ladies parted to make way for him out of curiosity. Catelyn noted the boy had sweat pouring down his face, strands of his dark hair matted against his forehead. Catelyn motioned for a servant to come forward. "Give him a cup of ale," she told him, nodding at the exhausted young man. Bryen Farring. Catelyn suddenly knew why he looked so familiar. Bryen Farring was one of Lord Stannis's squires along with one of Lord Seaworth's sons (most of Lord Seaworth's sons seemed to have squired for Stannis Baratheon) and the Redwyne heir. Why was Bryen here? Did he even rest on his journey here from King's Landing? Why would he come to the Eyrie when Stannis was ruling on Robert's behalf – well now Orys's behalf – back in King's Landing. It didn't make any sense. Unless…a chill seized Catelyn by the throat. There is trouble in King's Landing. No, not trouble. War. Why else would a squire to the King's Hand be sent to the Eyrie at such a time?
"My prince," Bryen Farring said again, "where's the king?" His blue eyes fell on Robert's body. "By the gods!"
Orys nodded grimly. "My father is dead, Bryen."
As the servant hurried out and gave Bryen a cup of ale, Catelyn carefully gazed at the faces of the more prominent lords and ladies. One of them was responsible for poisoning Robert – could the same person have incited a rebellion or uprising in King's Landing too?
"The Dornish…" gasped Bryen. "The Dornish have overrun and taken King's Landing!" Catelyn slid a wary glance at Lady Olenna Tyrell who had remained seated comfortably the whole time like a wizened toad sitting on a lily pad, leisurely waiting to catch its next meal. Frogs and toads weren't common sights in King's Landing, but they were in the Riverlands. Why is she not worried the Dornish might have invaded the Reach? Catelyn wondered. "The Dornish army had invaded the Stormlands," Bryen went on, "or so everyone had thought. When the news reached King's Landing, Lord Stannis sent Prince Oberyn Martell and Lord Swann of Stonehelm to deal with the matter. I suspect Prince Oberyn was sent to have his loyalty to the Iron Throne tested or something.
"In any case, the two lords went and the next day Prince Oberyn returned with at least a hundred men, if not more. Prince Oberyn declared the king – I mean the late king – an usurper and claimed King's Landing for…" Bryen hesitated. "For his true king, Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of His Name."
Shouts of surprise, astonishment and denial broke the silence. Catelyn too was shocked. Aegon Targaryen? She had not heard that name in years. Aegon was the infant son of Rhaegar and Elia, the babe whose head was dashed against the wall by the Mountain. "He is not real," Catelyn murmured to herself. Minisa looked up at her inquisitively. "He can't be real," Catelyn said more softly. When Robert had first arrived in King's Landing, he was presented with the bodies of Princess Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon all wrapped in crimson cloaks. Aegon Targaryen was dead – unless the babe the Mountain murdered was not Aegon Targaryen…
Catelyn's thoughts buzzed in her mind as Orys demanded more answers from Bryen Farring. Catelyn had only met Elia once in the tourney at Harrenhal but the two of them had never spoken to each other beyond the customary greetings, yet she remembered Elia Martell's gentleness and kindness. Elia Martell would never condemn another woman's son to a horrible death to save her own…would she? I would do anything to save my children, Catelyn reflected, but having another child murdered to save even one of mine? Even if it was war and she was moments from being killed, Catelyn couldn't imagine dying peacefully knowing that at least one of her children was still alive. It was too cruel. I am a mother first though, Catelyn pondered. She should be a queen first and a mother second and by the Seven she had tried. It never felt comfortable.
"No one would follow a false dragon!" a Vale lord bellowed.
"Clearly the Martells have," another lord – possibly from the Stormlands – had retorted back. "I must leave at once! My lands are in bloody danger!" There was a thunderous scramble as the lords of the Stormlands present all stood up and ran to the doors, yelling for servants to prepare for their departure. It was rude but it was understandable. Catelyn glanced at Lysa who was gasping and sobbing quite wildly on her chair. Lysa had always been prone to hysterics, but now was not an appropriate time. Careful not to attract too much attention, Catelyn gently moved her daughter Minisa's hands from her gown and slowly edged to the empty chair next to her sister. Lysa didn't even notice Catelyn there until Catelyn touched her lightly on the arm.
"You must retire to your chambers, Lysa," said Catelyn quietly.
"Murder…" Lysa whimpered, her watery blue eyes meeting Catelyn's. "There's been a murder in my castle…"
"You are still safe. The Knights of the Vale will always protect you. If it by…um, chance, it comes to war, you will be the most protected of us all."
Something in Lysa snapped. "My children!" she said suddenly. A few lords and ladies looked up at her. "They must not return to Storm's End! I must send a note to Lord Stannis, telling him he'll no longer be guardian to Sweetrobin and Alyssa. I want all three of my children to remain with me."
"Sansa is Harrold's wife," Catelyn reminded her.
"I will not have her living at Ironoaks! Lady Waynwood is a schemer and she'll want her beloved ward Lord of the Eyrie through Sansa. They will scheme and in a few days, they will have my dear boy murdered." Lysa grabbed Catelyn's hands. "You are the queen, Cat. You can convince the High Septon to set aside the match. It hasn't been consummated yet and Sansa deserves better than a knight. You can also tell your good-brother that my Sweetrobin will never wed his ugly daughter either. He'll already receive Alyssa as a good-daughter – he won't rid himself of a hideous daughter through marriage to Sweetrobin."
Catelyn's lips tightened as she tried to remain patient. "You are unwell, Sister. You've been through shock." It seemed Lysa was more in distress than she was – even though the dead bodies belonged to her husband and a good-brother. "Rest. I will be leaving for King's Landing with my sons. We will speak again next time I come here." Catelyn doubted Lysa would set foot in King's Landing again.
"Absolutely not," Orys said sharply. "You and Minisa will remain here until we have rid King's Landing of all its traitors."
Catelyn gave Minisa one last hug and gently pushed her towards Lady Sansa. It would've been preferable to leave Minisa with a trusted adult, but Lysa was in no condition to care for children. Sansa was still young, but she could be a sister of a sort to her young cousin. Catelyn turned to Ormund, who was arguing with Orys. More like whining, Catelyn thought as she saw Ormund's pout.
"Orys is right," Catelyn said gently to her younger son. "It is better for you and your sister to stay here a little longer. Think of it as an adventure you'll have with a few friends. Your father was fostered here when he was younger too." Better to think positively. Deep inside, Catelyn was aware that keeping Ormund secure in the Eyrie was a safety precaution in case…in case Orys was killed.
Ormund sighed heavily. "Alright," he relented grudgingly. "At least you'll have plenty of war stories to tell when we see you again!"
"You will continue your training and education here," Catelyn instructed. "You will have Ser Garth training you here."
"Yes Mother."
"Do not run off."
"Yes Mother."
Catelyn embraced Ormund. "Take care of your sister," she whispered. Ormund nodded when they broke away. Catelyn took a deep breath and joined Orys back in the High Hall. King for less than half a day, Orys was already surrounded at all times by a number of lords and at least one sworn knight from the Kingsguard. It was Ser Barristan Selmy who was accompanying Orys now. When Catelyn stood at Orys's side, the talking lords fell silent.
"Condolences for your loss, Your Grace," Lord Royce spoke gravely. "If you do not mind me asking my queen, will you be staying here with your children?"
"No my lord," Catelyn responded. "I will be with the king."
The lords began arguing again. The majority were in favour of Catelyn staying in the Eyrie for her own safety.
"Mother," Orys said quietly, "we will be riding to King's Landing. We are under the assumption that what Oberyn Martell said was wrong. There's no Aegon and Oberyn only claimed there was as an excuse for a Dornish invasion. The Dornish have no fleet, but they have strong connections to powerful and noble families in the Free Cities that may aid them by giving them ships. Dorne has no allies but to our knowledge, the Dornish are in control of King's Landing and it won't be long before they control all of the Crownlands."
"You are my son," said Catelyn stubbornly.
"I'll be surrounded by good advisors and seasoned warriors. Besides, I can put my sword fighting skills to the test."
"Lyanna-"
"Princess Lyanna will be safe," Lord Tyrell interrupted genially. He puffed out his chest. "I will lead my men to rescue the princess, Your Grace. Princess Lyanna is my good-daughter after all. Why not travel to Highgarden, Your Grace? You can have a companion in my mother. My mother plans to journey to Highgarden too. I can assure you that Highgarden is as safe as the Eyrie."
"An excellent idea," said Orys suddenly. "Once Lyanna is rescued, she'll be sent to Highgarden to join you." He nodded at Lord Tyrell. "Thank you my lord."
"Why not the Riverlands?" questioned Lord Blackwood. "Perhaps Her Grace is reminiscing of her girlhood home. I will be honoured to escort Her Grace there. It will be a privilege too."
"Highgarden is closer to Dornish lands," said Lord Stark uncertainly. "Maybe it will be best for Her Grace to leave for the Riverlands. I would offer the hospitality of Winterfell to Your Grace-" he nodded at Catelyn "-but the North's embroiled in a war against the wildlings and it will not be safe for you there." He turned to the other lords. "Are there any objections in Lord Blackwood escorting Her Grace the Queen Mother to Riverrun?"
Lord Tyrell looked as if he was about to object but his mother gave him a hard jab in the ribs with her lacquer black walking cane.
"You are a woman, Your Grace," said Lord Royce as gently as he could. "War is no place for a woman. It is better for you to be safe at Riverrun. Once the Dornish are dealt with, a raven will be sent to you. I swear on my honour there will be no coronation until you are at King's Landing."
Catelyn shook her head. "It is kind of you Lord Royce, but I desire my son to be crowned as soon as possible, with or without me. I'll be satisfied with your word of honour that the moment the Dornish are defeated, Orys will be crowned king. I will be content with that, my lord."
"Very well Your Grace. Perhaps it will be best for us to depart now?"
Catelyn watched helplessly as Orys nodded. "Lord Stark," she said, as the lords began to separate to see to their individual baggage. Lord Stark stopped and gave her a sad smile. "My condolences, Your Grace," he said to her. "You just lost your husband and your niece's wedding was cut short. Now your son is taken away by his new advisors. You can trust Lord Royce and the other lords, Your Grace. They want your son safe on the Iron Throne with a crown on his head."
"Please, call me Catelyn," Catelyn said impatiently. "Will you be accompanying Orys to King's Landing, Lord Stark?"
Lord Stark paused, his grey eyes darkening like grey storm clouds. "I am afraid not," he said finally, to Catelyn's bewilderment. "King Robert was my best friend, a brother even. You know I will do anything for his son. I'll not be going south – I plan to head north with Ashara and Arya. We will go back to Winterfell."
"Why?" Confusion almost turned to anger. "Orys is your king and good-son! He needs you now!"
"I will be returning to gather men," said Lord Stark patiently. "It takes my men much longer to gather and march south than the men from say, the Reach. If it's a Dornish rebellion, it can be subdued easily and my men will go home. If it is what that young man Farring claimed, Westeros will be plunged into another war. One that may continue when winter comes. Even if it doesn't come to war, alliances of old and new must be made and everyone prepared. If what Farring said was true and there is a true Targaryen on his way to King's Landing, King Robert's death – and Renly's – were no accidents. This Aegon Targaryen has allies. The Martells of course, and possibly others. How a Martell could poison King Robert when there is no Dornishman in sight…" Lord Stark shook his head. "I'm afraid intrigue is not to my strength, Your – I mean, Catelyn."
Her anger subsided, Catelyn said softly. "Thank you Lord Stark."
"Is something on your mind, Your Grace?"
Catelyn looked at the Lord of Raventree Hall. Lord Tytos Blackwood was a tall and thin man with a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard, a hook nose and long hair. He was garbed in black and red (the colours of House Blackwood) and wore a magnificent raven-feather cloak. From what Catelyn recalled, Lord Tytos was a good and honourable man, a fair fighter and chief rival to Lord Jonos Bracken. He also had three squires, one of whom was her nephew Hoster.
"I am concerned for my son," Catelyn admitted, slowing her palfrey down to a steady trot as Lord Blackwood rode next to her. "He learnt plenty from my good-brother, but what use is theory and politics when it is his crown at stake?"
Lord Blackwood chuckled. "My lady wife never stops worrying about our sons and daughter. You are probably aware of that."
"Indeed." Catelyn smiled. Lady Blackwood was one of her favourite ladies. "It's kind of you to allow your lady wife to continue serving me my lord."
"Anything for my liege lord's sister."
"My younger daughter Minisa, will need companions around her own age very soon." Catelyn didn't miss the tiniest flicker of pleasure in Lord Tytos's eyes. "It'll be an honour for your daughter Lady Bethany, to be one of Minisa's companions. I heard from your lady wife that Bethany is a gentle girl."
"She is," acknowledged Lord Blackwood. "She'd never been more than a day's ride from Raventree Hall. An incredible honour Your Grace, but I'm worried that my Bethany will be a little intimidated at attending court. All her life she dwelled in Raventree Hall, praying, singing, dancing and sewing."
The familiar sight of the inn at the crossroads augmented as Catelyn and Lord Blackwood's party rode closer towards it. Orys must have ridden ahead, pondered Catelyn as she dismounted her horse. Hopefully he rests at Castle Darry for a little while before he continues his journey to King's Landing. Catelyn didn't know if she wished Orys to prove himself a man by spilling enemy blood for the first time or for the Dornish rebellion to be suppressed before he even arrived at the city.
"We will be at Riverrun soon," Lord Blackwood assured Catelyn, dismounting from his own steed. "My squires will take care of our horses. Come, Your Grace. It is time you rest, drink and eat." I'm not tired! Catelyn wanted to yell. She was not hungry or parched either. However, like the proper lady she was raised to be, she only nodded and smiled. Catelyn's smile promptly disappeared the second she'd stepped into the familiar inn. Something felt wrong. Very wrong indeed.
Masha Heddle was still the same, hurrying around with plates and flagons, still chewing her sourleaf. It wasn't the serving boy either. It's the travellers. On a first glance, Catelyn glimpsed olive-skinned and dark-skinned Dornishmen, men from the Reach wearing badges of House Tyrell and to her utter discomfit the Queen of Thorns herself. Catelyn turned to Lord Blackwood. "My lord-"
"Your Grace." Lady Olenna rose and hobbled towards her. All the other men of the Reach present stood up too. To Catelyn's horror, the Dornishmen in suit, also followed. A malicious gleam appeared in Lady Olenna's beady eyes. "Your Grace," Lady Olenna said again. "You looked tired – why not come and sit with me to rest for a bit?" She grabbed Catelyn's arm with her gaunt thin claws. For an old, small woman, Lady Olenna had a surprisingly strong grip.
"My lady," said Lord Blackwood warningly. "Please release the queen mother."
Lady Olenna looked bored. "Obara Sand! Be useful for once."
Lord Blackwood sputtered and slumped to the ground, his blood trickling out. Catelyn whipped around and saw a big-boned woman yanking a spear from Lord Blackwood's back. The tip was coated in blood.
"You killed him!" Catelyn gasped. "Why?" Lady Olenna's iron grasp on her arm tightened. "Let's not state the obvious," Lady Olenna said smoothly. "By now, one of Obara's sisters would've already dealt with Blackwood's men. We'll be leaving for the Crownlands where the true king's very eager to meet you. Maybe your son will be there too." Catelyn grew cold. "Now, Lady Catelyn." Lady Olenna fixed her beady eyes on Catelyn. "Will you come quietly?"
Just to clarify, I don't like Jon Snow or Daenerys (I do find Jon more tolerable though - was really cheering him on in the scene in Season 7 Episode 3 when he was talking to Dany in Dragonstone though) as I find them overrated. I'm sorry if you are offended. I actually thought Aegon Targaryen surviving the Sack of King's Landing highly unlikely, but I do like to think of him as a better Targaryen alternative to the Iron Throne than Daenerys.
