Mid January, 299 AC

Part II: Red Wolf

Grief lay upon Catelyn Stark as heavy and deep as the sea. But I am a fish, and I must swim. She could not drown in her sorrow, this was neither the time or place. Upstairs her father lay dying; below the lords of the North and the Riverlands assembled for a war council.

Catelyn's heart was as frozen as the Wall as she reread the words Maester Luwin had scratched at the bottom of the parchment, his hand sharp and clear beneath Sansa's delicate, ladylike script. Sweet Sansa, only just turned twelve, who'd begged to go south with Catelyn's encouragement. I failed you, Catelyn thought as she stared at the words her daughter had risked her life to send.

Arya missing.

At least the Lannisters didn't have her in their claws. Of all her children, Arya was the most wild, the most adventurous, the quickest to befriend smallfolk. Perhaps she would find her way home. If she's still alive. Catelyn pushed the thought away.

Joff sent catspaw.

There was the answer to a riddle. When she'd received Ned's raven ordering the Imp's release without explanation, Catelyn had been dumbfounded. The Imp had been near as surprised, his ugly face screwed up in concentration. He had denied any involvement, and called Littlefinger a liar... but she hadn't believed him. She'd thought Ned ordered the Imp's release for the sake of peace, not for innocence.

Joffrey son of Jaime.

The Northern lords had not held their tongues about that. The minute they met at Moat Cailin the Greatjon had immediately, loudly told Ser Wylis and Ser Wendel Manderly all about "Ned's clever girl" and the "brotherfucking Lannister bitch."

Though Robb had not yet decided how to proceed, the word spread like wildfire as the host marched south. Men had shouted Winterfell and Riverrun when they fought in the Whispering Wood, but they'd shouted "brotherfucker" too, even as Jaime Lannister cut down Robb's guard before being captured.

Baelish betrayed father.

There were the bitter dregs at the bottom of the cup. Her own voice rang in her ears. I will not forget the help you gave me, Petyr. When your men came for me, I did not know whether they were taking me to a friend or an enemy. What a fool Catelyn was. Petyr had challenged Brandon for her hand, and she had turned away from him, as was her duty. Small wonder that he bore her no love, nor Ned for taking Brandon's place.

Catelyn set her despair aside. The war council awaited.

The Great Hall hummed as the lords seated themselves, northern lords to one side and riverlanders to the other. Catelyn's brother Edmure looked uncomfortable in the high seat of the Tullys. Her uncle Brynden the Blackfish was more at ease, his face as stern as any northman's. The river lords were at their side, Blackwood and Bracken as far apart as possible, Piper beside Smallwood, Mallister by Frey.

Ser Karyl Vance sat near one end, his face somber. He'd gone to Ned for justice after Clegane slaughtered his people, and it was he who had come to her this morning to give her the last known word of her daughters. Arya he had glimpsed only in passing, grinning and filthy. But Sansa he praised at length. Sansa had hosted Ser Karyl, Marq Piper, and Raymun Darry, presiding over the dinner table with gentle courtesy. Not only that, but she'd given their smallfolk fresh clothes and kind words. At least the last word of her daughters was sweet.

Catelyn sat beside her eldest son, surrounded by the northern lords. Robb's back was straight as steel, his blue eyes somber as he waited for the council to begin. Catelyn examined her son's face, her heart aching as she looked for her daughters. Sansa's eyes were a deeper blue, but her brow furrowed the same way when she thought. There was little of Arya Stark in Robb's Tully looks, but they shared their father's long face.

Catelyn looked at her brother Edmure. He had a little of Robb's looks, but he lacked Robb's solemn bearing. Despite being twice Robb's age, Edmure shared his river lords' boyish self-satisfaction. They were boistrous after lifting the siege of Riverrun. Even little Lyman Darry, a boy Bran's age whose lord father had been slain not two weeks past, was caught up by the glory of battle.

They had not known Eddard Stark. The northern lords who'd raised the siege were quiet, their joy overwhelmed by their loss. The Greatjon's bushy black brows concealed red rimmed eyes. How many fierce northern lords had wept for Ned? Even Theon Greyjoy's smirk seemed fixed, his face pale. And Ned was not their only loss.

Lord Rickard Karstark was gaunt with sorrow, his youngest son Torrhen cut down by the Kingslayer as he tried to reach Robb. At least his second son, Eddard, was safe behind the walls of the Karhold. Thank the gods Robb had ordered each lord to leave a son behind to defend the north. In private Robb had confessed it had been Galbart Glover's suggestion, wary of ironborn attacks. It was a wise decision, given what had happened at the Green Fork. Lord Hornwood was dead, but at least Lady Donella had their son to comfort her.

Robb had entrusted Galbart's younger brother, Robett Glover, with most of his foot. While Robb marched on Riverrun, Robett had lured Tywin Lannister into battle at the Green Fork. It had been a bloody mess. The northmen had taken Ser Kevan Lannister captive, along with Ser Harys Swyft and a few others. Ser Kevan shared a cell with his son Willem, a squire captured in the Whispering Wood. The Lannisters held Roose Bolton, Lord Cerwyn, and Ser Wylis Manderly.

Yet there were still plenty of lords left to argue, and argue they did as soon as the council began.

Greatjon Umber proposed putting Jaime Lannister on trial for incest and sending his head to King's Landing. Jason Mallister urged patience, pointing out that the Kingslayer and other captives might be traded for Sansa, Bolton, Cerwyn, and Manderly.

The shouting went back and forth for an age, until Ser Marq Piper interrupted to propose marching on Casterly Rock. Then the arguing switched to strategy. Should they stay at Riverrun, resting their troops while blocking Lannister supply lines? Should they march on Harrenhal and fight Lord Tywin's army?

It was Lord Tytos Blackwood who finally brought up the problem of kingship. With Sansa's letter and Bran as a sworn witness, few doubted the charges laid against Jaime and Cersei Lannister. Catelyn should have been honored by the trust in her children, but she suspected that it was easy for men to believe the worst of their enemies. Honorable Lord Eddard's head on a pike condemned the Lannisters more than any child could. Peace, Catelyn thought. All I want is peace, and that is all I cannot have.

"Lord Renly claims the crown, with Highgarden and Storm's End at his back. Let us join our strength to his," Lord Jonos Bracken urged.

"Renly is not the king," Robb said, breaking his silence for the first time. "Bran cannot inherit Winterfell while I live, no more than Renly can claim a crown while his older brother takes breath."

"And what is Stannis doing on Dragonstone?" The Greatjon boomed. Northern and river lords looked back and forth.

"Brooding," Lord Karyl Vance said with a shrug.

"Dragonstone should be covered in chickens, then," Robb's squire, Olyvar Frey said. "He's been brooding nigh on a year."

"If he knew the children were illborn, surely he would have declared himself King when Robert passed," Edmure said, troubled.

"Yet he has not," Robb said stubbornly. "We cannot wait for Stannis. Nor shall I swear fealty to a bastard born of incest."

"Nor I neither," Marq Piper said.

"Never!" Shouted little Lyman Darry.

"Nor I," swore grim Lord Karstark.

"Nor I," Lady Mormont growled.

The Greatjon rose to his feet, the firelight casting his immense shadow behind him.

"MY LORDS!" he shouted, his voice like the crack of thunder. "Here is what I say to these Lannister and Baratheon kings!" He spat. "The Others take the Lannister bastards. But why should I kneel to Stannis or Renly? They did naught to help Lord Eddard, nor to defend the Riverlands from Lannister butchers. A king who fails his duty is no king at all."

All around the room lords were nodding, their eyes blazing. The river lords would not forget their rich fields turned to deserts, their holdfasts ruined and their smallfolk slaughtered. Oh, Ned, Catelyn despaired. I never should have urged you south.

"Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?" The Greatjon roared. "King Torrhen Stark knelt to Targaryens and their dragons. Show me a Targaryen riding a dragon and I'll kneel." The Greatjon looked around, one hand over his brow like a mummer, and laughter rang out across the hall. Catelyn envied them. Would she ever laugh again?

"The dragons are dead and gone," the Greatjon spat again. "I'll swear to only one king, one that heeds his bannermen, who knows his duty, who knows his people and mine."

Robb sat as still as stone, his gaze cold as ice as his eyes met the Greatjon's. Without blinking the Greatjon drew his sword and pointed the blade at Robb.

"There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "The King in the North!"

King Robb sat in her father's seat, his bare head held high as they brought the prisoner in. It was only a week past that the lords had knelt before him, and the smith was still forging a suitable crown.

No sooner had the new king and his men sworn to take Joffrey's head, news had arrived that they were too late. Joffrey Lannister was dead, killed falling from the traitor's walk of the Red Keep. The gods had a cruel sense of humor. And the rumors of how he fell...

"You may rise," her son said coldly. Ser Cleos Frey got to his feet, his knees shaking. He'd fought for the Lannisters in the Whispering Wood and been taken captive there, but it was hard to picture the man holding a sword.

Catelyn would be happy to never see another Frey in her life, but as ever the gods ignored her wishes. Olyvar Frey seemed glued to Robb's side, the image of a faithful squire. Olyvar was handsome, for a Frey. His close cropped brown hair was thick, his frame well built. Perhaps it was because he'd escaped the seething horde of Freys at the Twins, growing up as a ward at Rosby with his mother's kin before being summoned by Lord Walder.

Ser Cleos was a Frey of a different kind, half-Lannister and entirely dispensable, and thus perfect for the unhappy task ahead of him. Catelyn watched as Grey Wind circled the knight, sniffing and licking his chops.

"I brought you from your cell to carry my message to your cousin Cersei Lannister in King's Landing."

Ser Cleos nodded eagerly as Grey Wind slunk back to Robb's side. "I should be most glad to bring His Grace's message to the queen."

Several lords spat on the rushes.

"Brotherfucker," the Greatjon snarled. Ser Cleos twitched.

Robb laid out the terms of Ser Cleos' release. Ser Cleos accepted the terms, swearing to return bearing Cersei's reply and then resume his captivity. The terms sent to the Lannisters were simple, despite all the time and arguing that had gone into them.

Robb declared the North and Riverlands independent of the Iron Throne. He denounced the new king, Tommen, as a bastard born of incest. He offered to exchange captives, save the Kingslayer. Catelyn cared nothing for these terms. It was the final term she waited for, the one for which she had marshaled every argument, drawing on every instinct and ally.

"Finally," Robb said, his voice as stern as Ned's. "Word has reached us of the disappearance of our sister, the Princess Sansa, and the charges laid against her."

The lords rumbled.

All knew that rumor ran wild when a king died, but the rumors of Joffrey's death had been particularly strange. One story said he'd fallen off the Red Keep while fleeing from the ghost of Eddard Stark. Another claimed Joffrey was pushed by a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. No, others said, he'd been devoured by a great red wolf that carried Sansa away on its back. No, the Stark girl was the red wolf, sent by the gods to punish her father's killer.

Whatever the tale, all agreed that her eldest daughter was missing and charged with involvement in Joffrey's death. Golden dragons awaited the man who found Sansa Stark and brought her back alive. Catelyn shivered to think what Cersei would do if she got Sansa in her clutches.

"Understand this," Robb said, rising to his feet, Grey Wind snarling at his heels as he descended to stand before the shaking Ser Cleos.

The lords watched, their faces grim. Only the Greatjon smiled, a smile terrible to behold. Catelyn wondered if she should fear the man who had named her son a king and backed her in making this final demand.

"You are to tell Cersei that if any harm comes to Princess Sansa while in Lannister hands-" Robb stopped just in front of the the knight, his eyes hard.

"-then Jaime Lannister will share my father's fate."