Game of Thrones: A Bastard's Story Book One

by diredestroyer88

This is the story of Matt Snow, Rickard Karstark's bastard, as he goes on adventures throughout the Game of Thrones story. This is a story of life and death; love and hate. Will Matt be able to find his love in all the turmoil of the War of the Five Kings and beyond? Read to find out. Rated M for language and future chapters. P.S. This will be on Ao3 under the same name.

9. The King in the North

Author's Note: Well, here it is, the final chapter of book one. I just want to thank you for all the support on the first part of this story. I hope you will all continue to support the story in the next part. Parts of this chapter are word for word from the book. Specifically most of the exchange with the Freys. Now, without further ado, I give you Chapter Eight: The King in the North. Enjoy.

Matt rode for a day and a night without stopping. When he finally did stop, it was only for a few hours. When he started off again, he rode for two hours before coming upon the Lannister host. He quickly dismounted and tied his horse far away from the camp. He left Blaze to guard it and crept up behind a tree.

He surveyed the camp, getting an idea of the numbers, and started to walk back. He was halfway there when he heard the singing. He knew the song (The Rains of Castamere), but, more importantly, he knew the voice. It was Tyrion Lannister, the Imp. Suddenly, the singing stopped.

"Well, who do we have here?" The Imp said. "The bastard of Karstark. You're supposed to be in King's Landing."

"And you're supposed to be dead."

"Luck is with us both, it seems."

"I think yours has run out," Matt said, drawing his sword.

"Wait!" Tyrion shouted. "I won't tell them you're here."

"That's not why I'm going to kill you," Matt said, his anger flaring. "You tried to kill Bran!"

"How many times do I have to tell you people? I never tried to kill the boy, indirectly or otherwise."

"It was your knife! You won it from Littlefinger!"

"There it is," the dwarf said. "Tell me, bastard, do you really trust Littlefinger? From what I heard, he betrayed Ned Stark and got him captured. And besides, who would be stupid enough to hire an assassin, then give the assassin their own knife? It completely defeats the point of hiring an assassin."

Matt remembered the knife Lord Petyr held to Ned's throat. "You're saying Littlefinger tried to have Bran killed?"

"I don't know," he said. "But, what I do know is that it wasn't me."

Matt put away his sword. "You will let me leave?"

"Yes, I probably hate my sister just as much as you do."

As they walked back to Matt's horse, Tyrion was explaining his father's plans, "He wouldn't tell me much, but I know he is going to try to strike at your army before you can cross the Twins. He is sending me to King's Landing to be Hand of the King in his stead."

"Can I trust you?" Matt asked.

"I just told you my father's plans. Of course you can trust me."

"Varys is hiding Arya. Sansa is still in the Red Keep. Promise me you will keep them safe. Yoren, a recruiter from the Night's Watch, will take Arya if Ned gets killed. Help him in any way you can. As for Sansa, she is still betrothed to Joffrey. They won't let her out of their sight. Just keep her safe. Swear it."

"I swear that I will do whatever I can to keep the girls safe."

"I can't believe that I'm saying this, but thank you, Tyrion."

"You're welcome. Could you please try to tell Lady Catelyn that I am innocent?"

"I will try, but she trusts Littlefinger too much."

"I know," the Imp quickly looked around. "You need to go. They will be wondering where I am."

"Goodbye, Imp," Matt climbed on his horse.

"Oh, one more thing," Tyrion said turning back. "Seeing as I am acting Hand of the King and said king is not yet of age, I have the authority to legitimize you. Kneel." Matt dismounted and knelt before the Imp (which only put him at eye level). "I, Tyrion of the house Lannister, Hand to Joffrey, the first of his name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby legitimize Matthew Snow, bastard son of Lord Rickard Karstark. Arise, Matthew Karstark."

"Thank you, my lord."

"You're welcome. I know the Crown might not recognize this, seeing as you are technically a traitor, but, if my father plans to marry Arya Stark to Tommen Baratheon, I will do everything I can to stop it. One marriage 'alliance' between the Starks and the so-called 'Baratheons' is bad enough, but with two, my sister could guarantee the North's allegiance no matter what happens. If Robb, Bran, and Rickon die, Sansa becomes queen and Tommen becomes Warden of the North. That cannot be allowed to happen."

"Of course," Matt mounted his horse once again. "Goodbye, Lord Tyrion."

"Goodbye, Matthew," the Imp started walking back to the Lannister camp. "And don't die," he shouted back. "I'd hate to legitimize you for nothing!"

Matt chuckled as he rode away, hoping he could reach the Twins before Robb crossed.

—

It was night when Matt reached Robb Stark's army. He would have shot at the perimeter if not for Blaze, who was immediately recognized as a direwolf. He rode through the camp, Blaze at his side, until he found the command tent. He dismounted and walked inside. His presence was immediately given away by Grey Wind, who started barking when he smelled his brother's scent.

Robb turned around, "Matt!?" He said incredulously. "How did you get here?"

"Varys and Yoren, a recruiter from the Night's Watch, helped me escape."

"And the girls?"

"They got to Sansa before Varys could. Arya was with me for a time, but she refused to leave the capital. She feared that you would send her to Winterfell if she came with me."

"Is she safe, at least?"

"Yes, I made Yoren swear that he would take her home if something goes wrong."

Suddenly, Lord Karstark barged into the tent. "I heard my bastard was here," He looked around. "Where is he?"

"Here, Father," Matt stepped forward. "Only, I am not a bastard anymore. I was legitimized by Tyrion Lannister, acting Hand of the King."

"The Imp would never do that," Catelyn Stark stepped out of the shadows. "He tried to have Bran killed. Why would he legitimize one of his foster brothers?"

"He did not hire that assassin, My lady."

"Tyrion Lannister's own knife was used!"

"A knife he supposedly won from Littlefinger in a bet. Now, I don't trust Littlefinger. Not after he betrayed Ned."

"He what!?"

"Robert named Ned regent. Lord Stark knew that Cersei would try to dispute that claim, so he asked Littlefinger to pay off the City Watch. The gold cloaks turned on us. Ned told me to run. The last thing I saw was Littlefinger holding a knife to his throat."

"That little weasel!" Lady Stark was fuming. "I should have never trusted him!"

"Tyrion also said that no one would be stupid enough to give their own knife to an assassin. Said it defeats the point of hiring an assassin."

"Thank you for this information, Matt. It seems that there is no one in King's Landing whom we can trust."

"We can trust Varys, my lady. He saved Arya and me."

"That may be true, but we don't know if he had an ulterior motive."

"We can speculate another time," Robb cut in. "We should get to bed. There is a larger tent set up for you, Matt. We received a raven from Jon. He was going to try to join us, but it seems that his brothers convinced him otherwise."

"You would not have executed him, my lord?"

"He would have received a full pardon. He is my brother. Father was just captured. He has every reason to desert."

"I see," Matt turned to go. "One more thing," he said, turning back. "Tywin Lannister is turning north. He plans to smash our host before we can cross The Twins."

"We will need to ride twice as hard in the morning, then. Thank you, Matt."

"You should thank the Imp. He was the one who gave me this information."

"He has my thanks. Now get some rest. We have a hard ride ahead of us."

Matt let Blaze out to hunt before going to bed. It was the first real bed he had slept in since he left King's Landing. It felt strange not having Arya next to him. Nevertheless, he got to sleep alright. He dreamt that he was Blaze, running through the woods. He pounced on a deer and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

—

They reached The Twins at noon the next day. The gates were closed and there were archers on the walls. Matt didn't like the look of that.

As the northern lords studied the castle, a sally port opened, a plank bridge slid across the moat, and a dozen knights rode forth to confront them, led by four of Lord Walder's many sons. Their banner bore twin towers, dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey. Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder's heir, spoke for them. The Freys all looked like weasels; Ser Stevron, past sixty with grandchildren of his own, looked like an especially old and tired weasel, yet he was polite enough. "My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host."

"I do." Robb spurred his horse forward. He was in his armor, with the direwolf shield of Winterfell strapped to his saddle and Grey Wind padding by his side.

The old knight looked at her son with a faint flicker of amusement in his watery grey eyes, though his gelding whickered uneasily and sidled away from the direwolf. "My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here."

His words crashed among the lord's bannermen like a great stone from a catapult. Not one of them approved. They cursed, argued, shouted down each other.

"You must not do this, my lord," Galbart Glover pleaded with Robb. "Lord Walder is not to be trusted."

Roose Bolton nodded. "Go in there alone and you're his. He can sell you to the Lannisters, throw you in a dungeon, or slit your throat, as he likes."

"If he wants to talk to us, let him open his gates, and we will all share his meat and mead," declared Ser Wendel Manderly.

"Or let him come out and treat with Robb here, in plain sight of his men and ours," suggested his brother, Ser Wylis.

"I will go," Lady Catelyn said loudly.

"You, my lady?" The Greatjon furrowed his brow.

"Mother, are you certain?" Clearly, Robb was not.

"Never more," Catelyn said. "Lord Walder is my father's bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm."

"I am certain my lord father would be pleased to speak to the Lady Catelyn," Ser Stevron said. "To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you."

"He shall be our honored guest," said Robb. Ser Perwyn, the youngest of the four Freys in the party, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a brother. "I require my lady mother's return by evenfall, Ser Stevron," Robb went on. "It is not my intent to linger here long."

Ser Stevron Frey gave a polite nod. "As you say, my lord."

"If he requests a betrothal for Arya," Matt said as Lady Catelyn passed. "Tell him he'll have to kill me first." Cat only nodded as she rode through the gates.

A swollen red sun hung low against the western hills when the gates of the castle opened. The drawbridge creaked down, the portcullis winched up, and Lady Catelyn Stark rode forth to rejoin her son and his lord's bannermen. Behind her came Ser Jared Frey, Ser Hosteen Frey, Ser Danwell Frey, and Lord Walder's bastard son Ronel Rivers, leading a long column of pikemen, rank on rank of shuffling men in blue steel ringmail and silvery grey cloaks.

Robb and Matt galloped out to meet her, with Grey Wind and Blaze racing beside them. "It's done," she told him. "Lord Walder will grant you your crossing. His swords are yours as well, less four hundred he means to keep back to hold the Twins. I suggest that you leave four hundred of your own, a mixed force of archers and swordsmen. He can scarcely object to an offer to augment his garrison . . . but make certain you give the command to a man you can trust. Lord Walder may need help keeping faith."

"As you say, Mother," Robb answered, gazing at the ranks of pikemen.

"Perhaps . . . Ser Helman Tallhart, do you think?"

"A fine choice."

"What . . . what did he want of us?"

"If you can spare a few of your swords, I need some men to escort two of Lord Frey's grandsons north to Winterfell," she told him. "I have agreed to take them as wards. They are young boys, aged eight years and seven. It would seem they are both named Walder. Your brother Bran will welcome the companionship of lads near his own age, I should think."

"Is that all? Two fosterlings? That's a small enough price to—"

"Lord Frey's son Olyvar will be coming with us," she went on. "He is to serve as your personal squire. His father would like to see him knighted, in good time."

"A squire." He shrugged. "Fine, that's fine, if he's—"

"Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age."

Matt's heart stopped. "She is already betrothed!" He objected.

Robb put a hand on Matt's shoulder, "I will talk to him. Perhaps we can negotiate a better deal."

"Thank you, Robb," Matt relaxed a little.

"And you are to wed one of his daughters, once the fighting is done," Cat finished. "His lordship has graciously consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer. He has a number he thinks might be suitable."

To his credit, Robb did not flinch. "I see."

"Do you consent?"

"Can I refuse?"

"Not if you wish to cross."

"I consent," Robb said solemnly.

They crossed at evenfall as a horned moon floated upon the river. The double-column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin like a great steel snake, slithering across the courtyard, into the keep, and over the bridge, to issue forth once more from the second castle on the west bank.

Robb went in with a small guard to negotiate with Lord Walder. He came out fifteen minutes later with a smile on his face, "I managed to convince him to marry one of his sons to Sansa instead of Arya."

"Thank you, my lord."

"There's something else," Robb said. He looked to his bannermen, "Ser Brynden?"

The Blackfish stepped forward and nodded. He looked at Matt, "Kneel,"

Matt knelt. He couldn't believe that it was finally happening.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocent. Arise, Matthew Karstark, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Thank you, Ser."

—

Two weeks later, they waited in the Whispering Wood for Jamie Lannister's host. The night was warm. Where are they? Matt wondered. Could Brynden Tully have been wrong? So much rested on the truth of what he had told them. Robb had given the Blackfish three hundred picked men and sent them ahead to screen his march. "Jaime does not know," Ser Brynden said when he rode back. "I'll stake my life on that. No bird has reached him, my archers have seen to that. We've seen a few of his outriders, but those that saw us did not live to tell of it. He ought to have sent out more. He does not know."

"How large is his host?" Robb asked.

"Twelve thousand foot, scattered around the castle in three separate camps, with the rivers between," the Blackfish said. "There is no other way to besiege Riverrun, yet still, that will be their undoing. Two or three thousand horse."

"The Kingslayer has us three to one," said Galbart Glover.

"True enough," Ser Brynden said, "yet there is one thing Ser Jaime lacks."

"Yes?" Robb asked.

"Patience."

Their host was greater than it had been when they left the Twins. Lord Jason Mallister had brought his power out from Seagard to join them as they swept around the headwaters of the Blue Fork and galloped south, and others had crept forth as well, hedge knights and small lords and masterless men-at-arms who had fled north when Edmure Tully's army was shattered beneath the walls of Riverrun. They had driven their horses as hard as they dared to reach this place before Jaime Lannister had word of their coming, and now the hour was at hand.

Matt and Robb mounted their horses and rode to the front of the column. Soon they heard birds whistling, the signal the outriders were to give when they saw the Lannister host. Matt peered down the hill. He could just barely make out the red and gold Lannister banners through the trees. A horn sounded. Jamie knew they were there. Robb gave a shout and started down the hill. Matt spurred his horse after him, Blaze by his side. "Winterfell!" He heard Robb shout. The men behind them echoed.

They met the Lannisters with a flurry of swords and arrows. Matt cut down about five men before his horse went down. He kept fighting on foot, with Blaze killing anyone who tried to get behind him. Soon, the enemy was all but defeated. Jamie rallied the last of his men for a desperate charge at Robb. "To me! To me!" Robb shouted, and Matt rushed to his side. In the chaos that followed, Matt saw two of his brothers, as well as Daryn Hornwood, go down. When Robb finally cut down the Kingslayer, he was covered in blood. Matt grabbed Jamie Lannister by the arm and held him.

Jamie looked up at him, "You're the Karstark bastard," he said. "How do you feel about me killing your brothers? I would kill your Stark lover, too, if she wasn't betrothed to Tommen."

Matt's anger flared, "Arya will never marry your bastard son!" He turned to Robb. "Let me kill him, Robb, he deserves it!"

"We should take him to my mother," Robb said. "She should decide what to do with him."

Robb went up ahead. Matt followed after with Theon and the Greatjon dragging Ser Jamie between them. They threw him down in front of Lady Catelyn's horse.

Lannister raised his head. "Lady Stark," he said from his knees. Blood ran down one cheek from a gash across his scalp, but the pale light of dawn had put the glint of gold back in his hair. "I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it."

"It is not your sword I want, ser," she told him. "Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters. Give me my lord husband."

"I have mislaid them as well, I fear."

"A pity," Catelyn said coldly.

"Kill him, Robb," Theon Greyjoy urged. "Take his head off."

"No," Robb answered, peeling off his bloody glove. "He's more use alive than dead. And my lord father never condoned the murder of prisoners after a battle."

"A wise man," Jaime Lannister said, "and honorable."

"Take him away and put him in irons," Catelyn said.

"Do as my lady mother says," Robb commanded, "and make certain there's a strong guard around him. Lord Karstark will want his head on a pike."

"That he will," the Greatjon agreed, gesturing. Lannister was led away to be bandaged and chained.

"Why should Lord Karstark want him dead?" Catelyn asked.

They explained it as well as they could. When they were finished, She looked at Matt. "You do not want him dead as well?" She asked. "He killed your brothers."

"I want him dead, my lady, but not for that reason. He threatened Arya," Matt paused for a moment. "But, I respect Robb's wishes."

"I see," she turned back to Robb. "Your men did what they were sworn to do, Robb. They died protecting their liege lord. Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. You may have lopped the head off the snake, but three-quarters of the body is still coiled around my father's castle. We have won a battle, not a war."

"But such a battle!" said Theon Greyjoy eagerly. "My lady, the realm has not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for every one of ours that fell. We've taken close to a hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax, Mallor the Dornishman . . . and three Lannisters besides Jaime, Lord Tywin's own nephews, two of his sister's sons and one of his dead brother's . . . "

"And Lord Tywin?" Catelyn interrupted. "Have you perchance taken Lord Tywin, Theon?"

"No," Greyjoy answered, brought up short.

"Until you do, this war is far from done."

Robb raised his head and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. "My mother is right. We still have Riverrun."

—

The only way into Riverrun from the North was by way of the Tumblestone. Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf's head as the rowers pulled at their oars. Theon Greyjoy and Matt were with him. Brynden Tully would come behind in the second boat, with the Greatjon and Lord Karstark.

They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Boats large and small were tied up all around them, secured to iron rings set in the stone. Ser Edmure Tully waited on the water stair. He was a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. At his side stood the Lord Tytos Blackwood, a hard pike of a man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper whiskers and a hook nose. His bright yellow armor was inlaid with jet in elaborate vine-and-leaf patterns, and a cloak sewn from raven feathers draped his thin shoulders. It had been Lord Tytos who led the sortie that plucked Ser Edmure from the Lannister camp.

"Bring them in," Ser Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and sitting down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man got a sheepish look on his face. Theon Greyjoy vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Catelyn by the waist, setting her on a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots.

Edmure came down the steps to embrace her. "Sweet sister," he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Catelyn hugged him fiercely.

"Your grief is mine, Cat," he said when they broke apart. "When we heard about Lord Eddard . . . the Lannisters will pay, I swear it, you will have your vengeance."

"Will that bring Ned back to me?" she said sharply. She quickly changed her tone, "All that will keep. I must see Father."

"He awaits you in his solar," Edmure said.

"Lord Hoster is bedridden, my lady," the steward explained. "He instructed me to bring you to him at once."

"I'll take her." Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey.

When they had left, Robb decided to go to the godswood. His bannermen went with him. That left just Matt and Theon. "So, Matt, how are you?" Greyjoy asked.

"Tired," Matt replied.

"Aren't we all?"

They talked for a while about their time at Winterfell. Eventually, Theon became distracted by the garrison, asking how the battle went. Matt pitched in when he could, mostly correcting Theon's exaggerations. They were interrupted by Maester Vyman. "Ser Matthew, Greyjoy, a raven arrived from King's Landing."

Matt's heart stopped. Ned. "Did you read it?"

"No, I thought it would be best to save it for Lord Robb."

"Very well," Matt said, as Lady Catelyn entered the hall. "My lady."

"Have you seen my son?" She asked.

"He went to the godswood, my lady."

"Thank you," she walked away.

—

"'If you swear fealty to King Joffrey, Sansa will be returned to you along with Eddard Stark's remains.' Signed, King Joffrey, the first of his name, blah blah blah…" Matt passed the paper to Robb.

"There's no mention of Arya," he noted.

"That must mean that Yoren came through."

"There's more news," Ser Edmure said. "Renly Baratheon has crowned himself king. He has the support of the Reach and the Stormlands."

That set the lords off. They started arguing about what to do next. Many wanted to march on Harrenhal, where Tywin Lannister was making camp. Many others wanted to declare for Renly and join their strength to his.

"Renly is not the king," Robb said finally.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Galbart Glover said. "He put your father to death."

"That makes him evil," Robb replied. "I do not know that it makes Renly king. Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son, so the throne is rightfully his by all the laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey."

"Tommen is no less a Lannister," Ser Marq Piper snapped.

"As you say," said Robb, troubled. "Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis."

Lady Mormont agreed. "Lord Stannis has the better claim."

"Renly is crowned," said Marq Piper. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?"

"The right," said Robb stubbornly.

"So you mean us to declare for Stannis?" asked Edmure.

"I don't know," said Robb. "I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor, and we know that was a lie, but if Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we will be traitors."

"My lord father would urge caution," aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. "Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce . . . and the safe return of his son. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms . . . "

A roar of outrage drowned out his voice. "Craven!" the Greatjon thundered. "Begging for a truce will make us seem weak," declared Lady Mormont. "Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer," shouted Rickard Karstark.

"Why not peace?" Catelyn asked.

The lords looked at her, but it was Robb who spoke first, "My lady, they murdered my lord father, your husband," he said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him, the bright steel on the rough wood. "This is the only peace I have for Lannisters."

The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords and pounding their fists on the table. Catelyn waited until they had quieted. "My lords," she said then, "Lord Eddard was your liege, but I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you?" She took a long breath. "Robb, if that sword could bring him back, I should never let you sheathe it until Ned stood at my side once more . . . but he is gone, and hundred Whispering Woods will not change that. Ned is gone, and Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark's valiant sons, and many other good men besides, and none of them will return to us. Must we have more deaths still?"

"You are a woman, my lady," the Greatjon rumbled in his deep voice. "Women do not understand these things."

"You are the gentle sex," said Lord Karstark, with the lines of grief fresh on his face. "A man has a need for vengeance."

"Give me Cersei Lannister, Lord Karstark, and you would see how gentle a woman can be," Catelyn replied. "Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy . . . but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom.

"Well, the one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for their two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

The hall was very quiet when Catelyn finished speaking.

"Peace," said the Blackfish. "Peace is sweet, my lady . . . but on what terms? It is no good hammering your sword into a plowshare if you must forge it again on the morrow."

"What did Torrhen and my Eddard die for, if I am to return to Karhold with nothing but their bones?" asked Rickard Karstark.

"Aye," said Lord Bracken. "Gregor Clegane laid waste to my fields, slaughtered my smallfolk, and left Stone Hedge a smoking ruin. Am I now to bend the knee to the ones who sent him? What have we fought for, if we are to put all back as it was before?"

Lord Blackwood agreed, surprisingly. "And if we do make peace with King Joffrey, are we not then traitors to King Renly? What if the stag should prevail against the lion, where would that leave us?"

"Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my king," declared Marq Piper.

"Nor I!" yelled the little Darry boy. "I never will!"

Shouting filled the hall once more. Suddenly, the Greatjon lurched to his feet.

"MY LORDS!" he shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat. " Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." He reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at Robb with the blade. "There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "The King in the North!"

And he knelt, and laid his sword at Robb's feet.

"I'll have peace on those terms," Lord Karstark said. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair as well." He eased his longsword from its scabbard. "The King in the North!" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon. Matt joined him.

Maege Mormont stood. "The King of Winter!" she declared, and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. And the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Matt watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for more than three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one . . . yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of Riverrun:

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Matt looked at Robb and smiled.

Author's Note: That's the end of Book One. I hope you all enjoyed the first part of the story. Book Two will hopefully be out within the next week. As always leave a review with suggestions. This is DireDestroyer, signing off.