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I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.

My name is Chloe Jane and I read somewhere once that when your cat blinks real slowly at you it's cat language for "I love you" so every time my cat blinks at me I blink back. Repeatedly. Just in case she missed the first blink.

Chapter Thirty: Winter and Battle

Lenora

Robb had not slept well since he had received the news of Winterfell's fall to Theon Greyjoy. His temper was short, even at times with Lenora, though she was the only one who would not put up with the undeserved anger. When he would snap at her she would snap right back, reminding him of the lion that was her mother.

They were now sitting in Roose Bolton's tent, he had received word from his bastard son and he had sought them out immediately. "My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell," Roose informed them. "Once he has captured the castle -"

"Theon has my brothers," Robb interrupted. "If we storm the castle -"

Lenora placed a comforting hand on top of his, "Theon would not touch Bran and Rickon," she told him. Her voice sounded more sure of that fact than she truly was. But she would not let Robb see that.

Roose nodded, "He wouldn't dare hurt the boys," he agreed with Lenora. "They're his only hope of escaping the North with his head."

Lenora scoffed inwardly at that. After what he had done Theon had no hope of escaping the North alive. Every Northern Lord, every Northern knight, every Northern soldier - they all wanted to kill Theon Greyjoy for their King.

Even with Bran and Rickon, Theon would die.

"Send word to your son," Robb commanded. "Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes."

Lenora and Roose shared a look of concern at that. Roose leaned forward, across the table. His voice was soft, but Lenora and Robb heard every word. "A touch of mercy is a virtue, Your Grace. Too much -"

"Any Ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy," Robb amended. Lenora nodded from beside him, that was a better option. He did not look soft this way. "He betrayed our cause. He betrayed me. We will hunt him down, no matter where he runs."

Roose nodded his agreement too, "I expect his countrymen will turn on him the moment they hear the offer," he said as they rose from the table.

Lenora nodded her gratitude to Roose before she and Robb left the tent. She did not want to tell Robb, but she had a suspicion that the Ironborn at Winterfell would never hear Robb's offer. She had tried to voice her concerns over Roose Bolton's bastard son, but Robb had not listened to her then. He would not listen to her now.

They weren't just gossip though, her information had come from the Spider. The were her own suspicions, from what she had heard while listening to Small Council meetings through the door. Whether the bastard had been raised by Roose Bolton or not he was Roose's son. Roose was a hard Northman who prided himself on loyalty, but he also disagreed with many of Robb's plans. He wanted to torture and kill prisoners after every battle, he would have imprisoned Lenora, he could be cruel. She was sure that his son was the same way.

Whatever Robb intended for the Ironborn that had followed Theon to Winterfell, she was sure that none of them would survive the week.

She shook her head as they walked through the camp, the soldiers were hurrying to pack up the camp, they would leave at dawn the next day to march south, past the Yellow Fork, to continue their assault on the land around Casterly Rock. As angry as she was by her family, as betrayed as she felt, Lenora had to admit that she had her reservations about marching on the Rock.

It was her home. So much more than King's Landing had ever been. The people of Lannisport were her people, even if Lannister had never been her family name. She wished that there was a way she could save them from their fate.

Robb turned to look at her, "What are you thinking?" he asked her.

"Just about the differences between you and Lord Bolton," Lenora told him, lying. She hated lying to him, but it was easier than to tell him she had misgivings about his battle plans.

"What differences?" Robb asked.

Lenora shrugged her shoulders, "Just look at how the two of you speak of his son," she told him. "You call him your son, Lord Bolton calls him bastard." She shook her head, "For all Lord Bolton knows about battle, he understands very little about how to gain loyalty."

Robb smiled at her, "I wouldn't put too much stock in it, Nora," he told her, his voice gentle. "It's for you and Jon that I don't use the word bastard."

Lenora glanced up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She understood Jon. He was a bastard, but Robb had always looked at him as a brother, it would be an insult to Jon to use the word to describe another baseborn son. But her, she did not understand that. "How is it for me?" she asked him.

"Myrcella and Tommen," Robb told her as if it should have been obvious. "You care for them. They are not your true siblings, but you care for them as if they were. I thought it would hurt you to call Bolton's son a bastard."

She wanted to kiss him. There in the middle of the camp. In front of whatever men wanted to watch. From the letters they had exchanged when they were children she had known that he was a kind man. But with everything that had happened between their families there had been a time when she hadn't been as sure. When they were married, for example, that night she would have never imagined that the man beside her in the Godswood was capable of the kindness he was showing her now.

She wanted to kiss him, but it would not be proper. So instead she smiled at him, so wide that her cheeks hurt, "I love you, Robb Stark," she told him. Even if she had not been grinning like a fool at him she was sure that he would have been able to hear the smile in her voice.

He chuckled, he did not seem to care about what was proper because he leaned down, his left hand slid to the small of her back and he pressed it, pushing her forward into his body as he lowered his lips to hers. Lenora tried to fight him at first, but he was so good at kissing that a moment later she had melted into him. She smiled into the kiss as she heard some of the men around them stop their packing preparations to cheer loudly at them.

"I love you, Lenora Stark," Robb told her once he pulled away from her.

Lenora smiled up at him, for a moment it was as if it was just the two of them in the world. The war melted away. Theon Greyjoy and his crimes melted away. Her Lannister heritage melted away. It was just the two of them. And they were happy. Which is why it broke her heart a bit to pull Robb back into the real world with what she said next. "You need to legitimize Jon," she told him, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

"What?" Robb asked, his eyebrows furrowed together as his blue eyes darted across her face, trying to determine if she were serious or not. "Legitimize Jon? Lenora, why?"

"You need an heir," she told him, her voice urgent.

"And you will give me one," Robb told her, his voice confident in her ability to conceive his child and birth it.

"You need an heir now," Lenora specified.

"I have Bran and Rickon," Robb told her, shaking his head.

Lenora shook her head too, "I do not wish it upon them," she told him, she needed him to know that she did not wish his brother's harm. "Gods know how much I want them to be safe. But you must face the truth of your family. Your brothers are prisoners in their own home. What if, Theon loses his mind and decides to kill them? Your sister Arya is missing, no one knows if she is alive or dead. Your sister Sansa is set to marry Joffrey." She moved closer to him and lifted her hands to cup his cheeks, framing his face, "If something happens to you before I can give you a son, then any son Sansa has with Joffrey could lay claim to Winterfell." She looked away for a moment, feeling a bit of shame as if she was betraying her family. "If you don't think that my mother and grandfather won't take advantage of that then you do not know my family."

Robb stared down at her, "Nothing will happen to my, Nora," he promised her.

Lenora sighed, forcing tears to fill her eyes. Her mother had told her that tears were a woman's weapon, and as much as she preferred a sword she could admit that tears had their uses. "But what if something does?" she asked him.

His blue eyes were sparkling, he was touched that she cared that much for him. And pleased. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. A slight pressure that only lasted a heartbeat. Though that was enough to make Lenora feel weak at the knees. "I can't legitimize Jon," he told her. "No matter how much I would want to. Only a King can do that." His words had slowed down at that last sentence, he realized the flaw of his argument.

Lenora nodded, "Only a King can legitimize a bastard," she agreed. "And you are King in the North."

"Would it truly please you to have me legitimize him?" Robb asked her. "Would it please you, wife, if I named him one of my heirs?"

Lenora smiled at him, reaching up to wipe away her tears now that they had achieved their purpose. "It would please me, husband," she told him, playing at a formal marriage with him. "At least until I can provide you with one of our own."

Robb chuckled at her and shook his head, stopping to press one more kiss against her lips. "Then it shall be done," he promised her.

"Tonight?" Lenora asked him, standing on her tiptoes and bouncing a bit in anticipation.

Robb sighed, but agreed, "Tonight," he told her.

Lenora smiled as they began walking again. Robb laughed beside her, shaking his head again. Lenora turned to watch him, her eyebrows raised, "What?" she asked him, raising her eyebrows. "What is so funny?"

"You think that you're a trickster," Robb told her, still chuckling. "You think that you can bat your eyelashes and cry a few false tears and I will do whatever you wish."

"You knew?" Lenora asked him, surprised. She thought that she had hidden it so well, but she clearly had not.

"Of course I knew, Nora," Robb scolded her. "I have been your husband for a few moons now, more than half a year. I have seen you truly cry, and I have seen you cry for what you want. I know the difference."

Lenora pursed her lips for a moment before she stood on her tip toes to press a kiss against his cheek, "It matters not," she told him. "I still got what I was after."

"Aye," Robb agreed. "You did, though it was because you were after something reasonable, something I should do. Try those fake tears on me for something unreasonable and we'll see how well you do."

-.-.-.-.-

Tywin

Storm's End and Ser Cortnay Penrose had fallen and surrendered to Stannis. Now, with nothing unconquered behind him the Baratheon pretender would sail on King's Landing. Would was the wrong word. He already had. It was no longer a matter of if there would be a battle for King's Landing, but when. And the when was fast approaching.

"King's Landing will fall an hour after Stannis lands his force," his brother told him as they discussed Stannis' eventual attack on the capital city. "It's not too late for King Joffrey and Cersei and the rest of the court to ride west to safety."

Tywin glanced at his brother briefly, a matter of seconds, his face full of disdain. When he spoke, his tone was scornful. "Surrender the Iron Throne?" he asked, surprised that his brother would even suggest it. Tywin Lannister had worked too hard to secure the Iron Throne for his family he was not going to lose it now. And not to Stannis Baratheon.

"Better than seeing their heads mounted on the city gates!" Kevan argued. "Stannis will execute them all -"

"No!" Tywin fired back at him, interrupting him before he could continue. "A King who runs will not be King for long." Tywin Lannister would not be the grandfather of The King Who Ran. "Joffrey is a Lannister. He will stand and fight. As Jaime would."

He did not miss the look on his brother's face. Kevan had heard the rumors of Joffrey's parentage and he believed them. Tywin bristled, his brother should know Cersei better than that, the woman was too proud to not do her duty. And for her and Jaime to have - it would be a sin against the Old Gods and the New. He shook his head, when he spoke next it was almost a whisper. "Stannis is a week from King's Landing and I have a wolf at my doorstep."

"Our scouts assure us that Robb Stark remains north of Ashemark," Kevan interrupted him, in a hurry to assure him that it was not all as bleak as he believed.

Tywin sighed, it was not blind assurance he wanted from his younger brother, but rather informed counsel. There were plenty of men at Harrenhal who would tell him what he wanted to hear. It was Kevan's job to tell him what he needed to hear. But his brother did not seem up to the task. He shook his head, chuckling at his brother's statement. "Hah! The last time the scouts assured us of Stark's movements he defeated Stafford at Oxcross after somehow secretly making it past Golden Tooth. The time before that? He lured us into a trap! Which is why my son is his prisoner."

He stood from his seat at the table and moved toward the fireplace, extending his hands down so that he could warm them with the flames. Behind him he could hear the girl, his cupbearer, scurry around on her little mouse feet, pouring more wine into his brother's cup.

"He is too close to Casterly Rock," he told his brother as he turned from the fire, his glare landing on his brother's face. "Too close."

"He sent a splinter force to capture Winterfell," Kevan informed him. Tywin already knew this, he scoffed, the use of splinter force was the wrong word. He had not sent any of his fighting men to Winterfell, but had, instead, allowed the bastard of Bolton to take some men that he had amassed from around the Dreadfort to march on the Northern castle.

These men that Roose Bolton's bastard commanded would never have been part of Robb's host because Lord Bolton was too proud to have his bastard son fight in his King's army.

Kevan continued as if his older brother had not laughed at him. "The Greyjoys have done us a favor, truly. Stark won't risk marching on Casterly Rock until he's at full force."

Tywin shook his head, "He's a boy," he told his brother. "A boy who has never been to war. A boy who has never lost a battle! He'll risk anything, at any time, because he doesn't know enough to be afraid."

Gods how he wanted to be the one to teach the boy to be afraid. He wanted to see the fear in Robb Stark's eyes as it dawned on him that his war was coming to an end. But they had more pressing matters. The Young Wolf was somewhere near Ashemark, no doubt pushing closer to Lannisport and Casterly Rock as they spoke. But Stannis was only a week from King's Landing, perhaps less if the wind was with them and his oarsmen were strong. As much as he hated the thought of losing Casterly Rock, as humiliating as it would be to lose his family seat, it would be worse to lose King's Landing - to lose the Seven Kingdoms.

He would have to march from Harrenhal, and soon. He only hoped that if he left Harrenhal, the boy might change his course and leave Casterly Rock to take this castle instead.

A fool's hope, but a hope nonetheless.

"We will ride tomorrow at nightfall," he told his brother. "I want a full night's march before he knows we're on the move."

"We march to King's Landing?" Kevan asked him.

Tywin shook his head, "No," he told his brother. "Not just yet. Clegane will maintain a small garrison here at Harrenhal. We will task him to track down the Brotherhood Without Banners and destroy them."

The girl's movement in the corner caught his attention. He had not thought of her. They would not bring her on the march. A march to battle was no place for so little a girl. He gestured that she should walk closer to the table, "The girl's proven herself a good servant. She will stay on with Clegane." He turned to address the girl specifically, "See that he doesn't get drunk in the evenings," he ordered her. "He's poor company when he's sober, but he's better at his work," he added with a wink.

The girl looked distressed, though Tywin could not understand why. He had found her in the pen that Clegane and his men had selected prisoners from to question about the Brotherhood, but Tywin had put an end to that when he had arrived. He would make a point to tell Clegane before they marched that they were not to kill the prisoners.

If the Stark boy abandoned his campaign on the Rock they would need all the people at Harrenhal that Clegane could get his hands on. If only to use as shields.

The girl would be fine, as long as she did not allow Clegane to get too drunk. And as long as she stayed out of his way when he got into one of his rages.

-.-.-.-.-

Tyrion

Lancel met him in the Great Sept to share his news of the Queen. Tyrion's poor cousin had become traitor unwillingly, but he was proving himself most useful. He had asked Tyrion the day before for his own command in the next battle, they both knew the battle to be the one Stannis brought to them. He had not given Lancel his word, but he was toying with the idea.

"The queen intends to send Prince Tommen away," Lancel told him as they both knelt in front of the large statue and alter of the Mother. "Lord Gyles will take him to Rosby and conceal him there in the guise of a page. They plan to darken his hair and tell everyone that he is the son of a hedge knight."

Tyrion sighed, if only his sister had been smart enough to darken her children's hair when they were babes and continue to darken it as they aged. They wouldn't be in the situation they were in now. Rather, if only she had done her duty as Robert's wife more than once. If only Lenora had not been born the only child Robert and his queen Cersei had created. Stannis was an honorable man, he would not march against a King who had been the trueborn heir of Robert and Cersei. He was sailing to King's Landing because he truly believed that of the four children, only the eldest daughter belonged to Robert.

Tyrion could not blame him.

"Is it the mob she fears?" he whispered to Lancel. "Or me?"

"Both," Lancel answered him honestly.

Tyrion nodded, this would not do. As much as he would want Tommen away from King's Landing in case the battle went sour and Stannis sacked the city. There was only one way to control Cersei and that was through her children. Lenora and Myrcella were out of his reach, at least partly by his own fault. And Joffrey was out of his control. He only had Tommen. The boy could not be allowed to leave the city.

"You have my thanks, Ser," he told Lancel, not sharing his thoughts with his young cousin. He trusted the boy to tell him the truth because he was afraid of what Jaime would do once he returned if Tyrion told him that Lancel had been sleeping with the queen. He trusted the boy not to tell Cersei that he had turned traitor, he valued his life too much for that. But he could not trust him to accidentally let Cersei know that Tyrion knew what she planned.

"Will you grant me the boon I asked of you?" Lancel asked him. The battle would come sooner rather than later and he wanted to know if he was to be given a command. He had heard some of the other knights around the Red Keep say that he had only been given a knighthood because he was the king's kin. He was eager to prove his worth.

"Perhaps," Tyrion told him, not quite ready to make his decision yet. He thought giving Lancel, who had not so much as fought in a tourney yet, a command against Stannis would be stupid. It was a splendid way to die before he grew his mustache, but young knights always thought they were invincible.

They would never go to battle otherwise.

His cousin slipped away, unseen out of the sept, but Tyrion lingered a bit longer. He moved from the alter in front of the Mother to stand in front of the Warrior's alter. He used one candle to light another one. And then, on second thought, another candle after that.

"Watch over my brother and my niece, you bloody bastard," he whispered, glaring up at the tall, formidable looking statue. "They are both yours after all."

He did not pray for his father. Tywin Lannister believed that praying to the Gods was a waste of time and would not want his son's prayers. Especially the prayers of Tyrion, the disappointment. He did stop in front of the alter for the Stranger and, without looking up at the mysterious, cloaked statue, light a candle there for himself.

After he left the sept he searched out Bronn, stopping only to write a quick letter to Jacelyn Bywater and seal it with the stamp of the Hand of the King. He handed the letter to Bronn when he found him. "Take this to Ser Jacelyn Bywater," he ordered his sellsword.

"What does it say?" Bronn asked suspiciously. He lifted the parchment up to the light, trying to read it without opening it.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "That he is to take fifty of his best swords and scout the Roseroad," he told Bronn, not lying.

"Stannis' foot soldiers are more likely to take the Kingsroad," Bronn told him, as carefree and calm as if he were discussing the weather.

"I know that," Tyrion told him, impatience coloring his tone a bit. "You are to tell Bywater to disregard what is in the letter and take his men north. He's to lay a trap along the Rosby road. Lord Gyles will depart for his castle within the day with a dozen men-at-arms, some servants, and my nephew. Prince Tommen may be dressed as a page."

"You want the boy brought back, is that it?" Bronn asked him, already catching on to Tyrion's plan.

Tyrion nodded, "My sister will send one of the Kingsguard with the prince."

Bronn seemed less than impressed, "The Hound is the only one I would worry about," he told Tyrion with a shrug of his shoulders. "And he is Joffrey's dog. He won't leave him. Ironhand's gold cloaks should be able to handle the others easy enough."

Tyrion nodded, glad to hear it, "If it comes to killing, tell Ser Jacelyn that I won't have it done in front of Tommen. My nephew is tender-hearted."

Bronn chuckled, "Quite different from his older brother," he observed. "Or his older sister if what I hear is to be believed of the Queen in the North. Are you certain that he's a Lannister?"

"I'm certain of nothing but winter and battle," Tyrion told him as he began to walk away from their empty spot on the wall of the Red Keep. "Come," he ordered Bronn, "I'll go with you part of the way."

"Got something waiting for you in the Tower of the Hand?" Bronn asked as they walked.

Tyrion nodded, a smile on his face, "You know me too well."

...

Unfortunately for Tyrion it was not Sansa Stark's newly acquired handmaiden who awaited him in the Tower of the Hand, but Varys. "I almost fear to tell you why I've come, My Lord," Varys told him by way of greeting when Tyrion walked in to see him. "I bring such dire tidings."

Tyrion's first thought was Jaime. He had just prayed to the Warrior for his protection that morning and already the Young Wolf had decided to kill him. If Robb Stark had harmed Jaime in any way there would be nothing in the world that could save him, of that Tyrion was certain. A part of him even believed that Lenora would kill the boy for them if he harmed her uncle.

He did not want Varys to see his fear though. He forced his face into one of casual concern. "You ought to dress in black feathers, Varys, you're as bad an omen as a raven." He was quiet for just a moment before he asked, "Is it Jaime?" He was unable to stop himself.

"No, my Lord. Nor the princess Lenora. A different matter entirely. Ser Cortnay Penrose is dead. Storm's End has opened its gates to Stannis Baratheon."

Tyrion rolled his eyes and moved around Varys to pour himself a cup of wine. This was old news to him. "You're a little late, Varys," he told the lord, even though he had never known Varys to be late on news. "We already know that Ser Cortnay surrendered. We had a raven from Storm's End two days ago."

Varys shook his head, "The raven said he surrendered, I tell you that he's dead and surrender he did not."

Alright, Tyrion thought, I will play your game, Spider. "How did this happen?" he asked.

"It is said that he threw himself from a tower."

"Threw himself?" Tyrion repeated, even as he shook his head. "No I will not believe that."

Varys shrugged his shoulders as he moved around the chamber and took a seat, "His guards saw no man enter his chambers, no did they find any within afterward."

"Then the killer entered earlier and hid under the bed," Tyrion suggested. "Or he climbed down from the roof on a rope. Perhaps the guards are lying. Who's to say they did not do the thing themselves?"

"Doubtless you are right, My Lord," Varys told him, though he looked as though he disagreed.

"But you do not think so?" Tyrion asked him. "Go on then, how was it done?"

Varys paused for a long moment, weighting his words before he began to speak. Finally he cleared his throat, "My Lord, do you believe in the old powers?" he asked.

Tyrion chuckled, "Magic?" he asked, remembering his recent conversation with Sansa Stark about the battle of Oxcross. "Bloodspells, curses, shapeshifting, those sorts of things?" He snorted. "Do you mean to suggest that Ser Cortnay was magicked to his death?"

Varys shrugged his shoulders, "Ser Cortnay had challenged Lord Stannis to single combat on the morning he died. I ask you, is this the act of a man lost to despair? Then there is the matter of Lord Renly's mysterious and most fortuitous murder, even as his battle lines were forming up to sweep his brother from the field." The eunuch paused a moment, "They say he travels with a red priestess from Myr."

Tyrion nodded, the thought made him uncomfortable, "I took that from his raven, where he signed that it was done in the Light of the one true God or something to that effect." Those who followed the Lord of Light were fanatics, and they made him feel uncomfortable.

Varys nodded, "Many strange things come from Myr, My Lord," he told him. "And so I will ask you again ... do you believe in the old powers?"

Tyrion could tell how much Varys wanted him to agree, to believe. But he could not. There were things he believed in and things he did not. He believed in steel swords, gold coins, and men's wits. He believed in a woman's love (even if he had to pay for it), and his brother's loyalty. He believed in Lenora's laughter and Tommen and Myrcella's goodness. He believed in Joffrey's cruelty, his father's disappointment, and his sister's hatred. He believed in all these things because he had seen them at work.

He believed in dragons because he had seen their skulls.

But he could not and would not believe in magic.

-.-.-.-.-

Catelyn

"Tell Father I have gone to make him proud," those were her brother's words to her as he mounted his horse. Scouts had arrived at Riverrun days before to tell them that Lord Tywin Lannister marched on Riverrun from Harrenhal. It was a smart move, Catelyn would give him that. With Robb marching ever closer to Casterly Rock and Winterfell too far away even for Tywin Lannister Riverrun would be closest to Robb's heart, the best blow Tywin could give him.

Brienne, Gods bless her, had wanted so much to go with Edmure, but Catelyn had ordered her to stay at Riverrun. Edmure had taken his best fighting men with him, leaving only a small garrison, mostly made up of young boys and old men to hold the castle. Catelyn would have one young knight with her, even if it was a woman.

And so, she had told Brienne that they would do their duty. They prayed. And they waited. And Brienne hated it.

The next afternoon she finally spoke up, "Fighting is better than this waiting," she informed Catelyn. "You don't feel so helpless when you fight. You have a sword and a horse, sometimes an axe. When you're armored, it's heard for anyone to hurt you."

"Knights die in battle," Catelyn reminded her, hoping that the girl was not glamorizing battle just because she missed it.

Brienne looked down at her with those blue eyes of hers, the only beautiful part of her face, "As ladies die in childbed. No one sings songs about them."

She had the right of it, no one would sing a song about Catelyn Stark. But they sang songs of her son. That was enough for her. "Children are a battle of a different sort," Catelyn told her as they walked across the yard. "A battle without banners or warhorns, but no less fierce. Carrying a child, bringing it into the world," she paused, thinking about when she had given Sansa this lecture not that long ago. Her arms ached for her children: her daughters lost to her down south, her sons lost to her up north, her eldest at war. She shook her head, "As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, on for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

"And who would keep you safe, My Lady?" Brienne had asked her curiously.

Catelyn smiled, tired and rueful, "Why, the men of my House. Or so my Lady mother taught me. My Lord father, my brother, my uncle, my husband, they will keep me safe," she paused, shaking her head sadly. Her father was old and dying, her brother and her uncle were fighting her son's war, her husband was dead. None of them could keep her safe. "But while they are away from me, I suppose you must fill their place, Brienne," she told her, trying to force a lightness she did not feel into her voice.

Brienne took her suggestion to heart, "I shall try, My Lady," she vowed.

Later that afternoon Maester Vyman brought news of her son Robb. He was marching toward the Crag, the seat of House Westerling - that was all he wrote her. But the raven that brought the news had carried two letters: one from her son and one from his new wife. Lenora's letter had been much more informative. She assured Catelyn that Robb was safe and well protected as they marched and as he battled. She spoke of her work with the Silent Sisters. She expressed her bittersweet joy that Ned's bones would finally make their way north to Winterfell, she hoped that Theon would not be so cruel as to bar his burial in the crypt with his family, she wrote well and long about her sorrow that Bran and Rickon had been taken as wards in their own home when Theon had taken Winterfell.

She was reading Lenora's letter a second time, looking for any sort of clue that they would be marching back to Riverrun soon when the sound of hurrying footsteps pulled her from the parchment in her hand. Ser Desmond's squire dashed panting into the room and knelt. "My Lady," the young boy gasped out. "Lannisters ... across the river."

Catelyn would have laughed if the situation were not so dire, "Take a deep breath, lad, and tell it slowly," she commanded.

He did as she asked, taking a few deep breaths before he spoke again. "A column of armored men," he told her. "Across the Red Fork. They are flying a purple unicorn below the lion of Lannister."

A Brax and Lannister force. She quickly led Brienne to the battlements where Ser Desmond stood, no doubt waiting for her. "A few outriders," he told her, meaning to assure her. "No more. The main strength of Lord Tywin's host is well to the South. We are in no danger here."

Catelyn would not rest until they were fought back though, she was sure of it. South of the Red Fork the land stretched open and flat, Catelyn could see for miles. Though only the nearest ford was visible. Edmure had spread his forces up and down the river, this ford was under Lord Jason Mallister's watch. The Lannister riders were waiting uncertainly on the south-eastern edge of the river, no doubt sizing up Mallister's own force.

"No more than fifty, My Lady," Ser Desmond guessed.

The riders stretched out in one long line down the edge of the river, still waiting. Lord Jason's men waited for them, hiding behind rocks and trees. One trumpet blast sent the horses forward into the river. For one heartbeat they made a brave picture, all bright armor and streaming banners, the sun flashing off the points of their lances.

Brienne shifted beside her, no doubt wishing that she could be part of the battle below. They were too high and too far to make out what exactly was happening below them, but the horses' screams were loud, even to Catelyn's far away ears. Beneath the horses' screams she could hear the faint clash of steel. This is what war sounded like, she realized, clashing steel, dying men and terrified horses.

A banner vanished suddenly as if its bearer was swept under, and soon after the first dead man drifted past their walls, borne along by the current. By then the Lannisters had pulled back in confusion.

She watched, eyes weary, as they re-formed, conferred briefly, and galloped back the way they had come.

The men on the walls cheered, but not Catelyn. And not Brienne. This had not been a battle, but a scouting mission. Both were sure of it.

Ser Desmond slapped his belly. "Would that Lord Hoster could have seen that," he chuckled. "It would have made him dance."

"My father's dancing days are past, I fear," Catelyn told him, not unkindly. "And this fight is just begun. The Lannisters will come again. Lord Tywin has twice my brother's numbers."

"He could have ten times and it would not matter," Ser Desmond told her. "The West bank of the Red Fork is higher and steeper than the East. Our bowman have good cover and a wide open field in which to loose their shafts. And should any breach occur, Lord Edmure has his best knights in reserve, ready to ride wherever they are most sorely needed. The river will hold them. And we shall hold the river."

"I pray that you are right," Catelyn told him, her tone grave.

She did not believe him.

Author's Note:

Well there it is. Another day, another chapter.
I hope that you guys enjoyed it.
It was a bit of a slow one, but you know how things go. Slow and then suddenly shit hits the fan. So be prepared.
Anyway, if you liked this chapter let me know by reviewing! I really do love reading your reviews. It's great to know what you guys think.
And let's me know if I should keep writing.
As for those of you that reviewed on the last chapter, you guys are wonderful.

Raging Raven: No. It is not evil of you to be eager for the Red Wedding. I'm a bit excited about it too to be honest. Lenora and Robb have been too happy for too long.

darkwolf76: Two reviews and long ones! Friend you made my day yesterday. So I'm going to try to address both of them as well as I can in one novel length response. Here goes:
How do I update so quickly? Well it started with a very good outline. Chapter by chapter of what each chapter would cover, what point of views would be used, etc. I went through the whole story in this outline. Then when it was finished I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. When I posted the first chapter I had written five. That is my rule, I need to be five chapters ahead of what I post (it's kind of a writer's block shield). And then on top of that I work seven days on, seven days off. On my off days I clean my house, grocery shop, laundry, gym, walk the dog, blink at my cat, and write. My husband, my friends they all have normal 9-5 jobs Monday through Friday and we don't have kids so I have a lot of free time during the week to write. I write about 3/4 of a chapter to a chapter and a half every day. And I'm just pretty lucky that they turn out good. I'm glad you guys enjoy them!
You're welcome for giving you guys Tywin's perspective of Arya. I loved those scenes in the show, so I knew that I had to put them in when I started writing this. I couldn't help it.
Lenora is so confused, you guys will see that more and more in the next few chapters. She desperately wants to be loyal to her family, but the problem is that her family is fighting each other all over the place. She's made the choice to side with Robb for now, but that not always be the case. (Only the time line knows.)
As for Sansa, I love the girl. I'm not entirely sure why the fandom hates her so much. She might not always do the right thing, but the girl is just trying to survive. I'm not gonna judge her for that. And the Hound ... confession time: I love the Hound. Sandor Clegane is one of my favorite characters and I like him and Sansa so that kind of bleeds in to the writing a little more than I thought it did.
With Roose and Ramsay I explained it a bit in this chapter. Basically I know that Roose has cautioned Ramsay about his behavior, so people know it's happening. And they're talking about it. Ned would have definitely investigated any rumors that he heard, but Ned didn't have Varys. Or his little birds. So in this story, Ned didn't hear the rumors, but people in King's Landing have.
Yes, Robb and Lenora are ridiculously happy and adorable. And you should be nervous, because no one is every happy in GoT world. There will be a variation of the Red Wedding. It's like the turning point of this story. It might even be the end and then part two will be a sequel. I haven't decided if I want to split it up or not. But I promise you that you guys won't regret it.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you!

HPuni101: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Hope that you enjoyed this one as well!

HopelessRomantic44: They are sweet, which means things might get bad for them soon. We shall see.

That's all I've got for now. When you finish reading the chapter maybe you watch the Cavs game tonight and root for my man LeBron.
Chloe Jane.