Jon
It took all his concentration to meet Ser Barristan's blows. Up and down, left and right the blades met, bringing forth a jingling sound. Ser Barristan could be his grandfather, but his blows were powerful and left Jon's arm aching. It was the wound from his maiden battle against the Dothraki.
Ser Barristan was also incredible quick. Again the blades kissed and parted. Jon gritted his teeth and stepped backwards to gather strength for his next attack. This time he aimed at Ser Barristan's left side. It was the weaker one.
An old war wound, he guessed and brought down his blade. Jon didn't know how, but the elderly knight seemed to anticipate his actions and parried the blow easily. Jon considered himself a good swordsman, but the mock battle made him aware how much he had yet to learn.
"I think that is enough," Ser Barristan remarked and graced him with a smile. "I think I am in dire need of a break."
Jon was stunned by his answer and lowered his blade. Ser Barristan's brow was covered in sweat and his breathing a little labored, but he looked otherwise unaffected.
"I am the one that is sweating like a pig," Jon replied and sheathed his blade. "And you are quick like a cat. How did you know that I would aim at the left side?"
"Your footwork," he replied and sheathed his own blade. "And your movements. You put too much strength in them. Fight calmer and your enemy won't be able to anticipate your next attack."
Jon couldn't help but to frown. He was sure that Ser Barristan meant well, but he still expected better of himself.
"Don't fret, my Prince," Ser Barristan assured him amusedly. He sure loves teasing me with this title. "You swordplay just needs refinement. Whoever thought you did well. Besides, you are still young. I was no Arthur Dayne at your age. I have years of practice and I have seen hundreds of battles."
"I have only seen two battles," Jon answered and brushed his sweaty hair out of his face. Then he craned his head to look at Daenerys.
She was seated next to Larsha and had watched them while preparing arrows for their next hunt.
"Knowing our luck these won't be the last battles," Daenerys remarked with a smile. "But I agree with Ser Barristan. You are still in training."
Her encouragement helped to ease his disappointment and he returned her smile.
I still need to get better, he knew and his gaze fell on Aemon stumbling after the other children. It is the only way to protect them. I cannot solely depend on the dragons.
"Jon," Daenerys called out to him and held out his cloak. He picked it from her hands and pulled the garment over his shoulders. She gave him a fleeting smile. "Are you perhaps nervous? You are a bit pale around the face."
He shook his head and tried to overplay his fear. He had tried mounting Sonarys before, but his weight made it hard for him.
"I am fine," he assured her Daenerys and swallowed hard. She nodded her head and leaned closer to pat Larsha's shoulder.
"Would you take Aemon home?" she asked Tito's sister. "The dragons need to be fed."
"Sure," Larsha replied and gathered the arrows in her arms."Aemon is in good hands. Today is the great day, isn't it?"
Jon didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid.
It looked so easy whenever Daenerys did it, but Jon wasn't as confident.
What if Sonarys decides to throw me from his back?"
…
The sun was sinking behind the hills when they arrived at the dragons' lair and the sky above was painted in a soft pink color. It promised a cold night.
"Ñuha riñar! māzigon kesīr!" Daenerys called out to the dragons.
It didn't take long before the dragons made their presence known. Viserion's silver wings glittered in the dying sunlight as he descended on the ground not far from their position.
Even from afar Jon was able to feel his hot breath. It was the smell of burned flesh and blood.
The sheep started to cry out in fear when they noticed Viserion's presence, but that was no surprise. Viserion was the most bloodthirsty of the dragons. Even Jon feared him at times.
Next appeared Rhaegon. His dark wings blocked out the sunlight as he descended upon the scorched plain below the hill. His red-black scales pulled out trees and roots as he landed on the ground. The whirled up dust made Jon's eyes water, but the sheep had it worse. They went mad. Their shrieking grew louder and louder. Jon felt almost like an executioner. He did this every day, but today it felt different. Maybe it was his impending flight that woke these feelings inside him.
At last Sonarys arrived, his blue skin barely distinguishable from the sea. He didn't roar nor did he throw flames in the air like his two brothers. He landed in the quietest way possible and turned around to look at Jon.
Jon had the feeling that dragon knew about his plans.
Today is the day.
"Jon…it is time," Daenerys reminded him. He shook his head and brushed away his fears.
"Of course," he replied and freed the sheep. The animals fled in fear, but their feet were nothing compared to the dragons' wings.
Viserion roared and hunted one of them below the hill, before he snapped from the sky and caught the animals with his sharp fangs.
The sheep was barely able to squeak, before it was dismembered. Rhaegon was less cruel and gave his meal a quick death. Exposed to the flames there was soon nothing more left, but blackened meat..
Sonarys killed his sheep with a quick bite to the neck and was now disemboweling his supper with great eagerness.
"Don't be afraid," Daenerys whispered and touched his shoulder. Focused as he was on the dragons he hadn't even noticed her approach. "He will accept you. I am sure of it."
She looked confident, but even Jon noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Her concern warmed his heart and gave him the confidence he needed. Jon nearly pissed himself in fear when she mounted Rhaegon for the first time. Even now he was afraid when she did it, but there was no other way. It was bad enough that Viserion had no rider. The dragons needed guidance.
"I know," he replied and lifted her hand to place a kiss on her hand. "All will be well."
Then he exhaled deeply and shifted his attention to Sonarys. Ever slowly, he approached the dragon, sitting over the disemboweled body of the sheep.
Noticing Jon's presence Sonarys lifted his head. Jon saw a speck of his own reflection in the dragon's eyes. It looked like a dark shadow moving over a golden surface.
He can sense my fear.
"Sonarys," he called out to the dragon and touched his neck. His skin was hot like a brazier, but the dragon seemed to enjoy the attention, for he leaned into Jon's touch.
"Kessa ao rual nyke naejot sōvegon aōha arlī?" he repeated the question Daenerys instilled into him and braced himself for the dragon's reaction.
The dragon shrieked and lowered his back to the ground. Jon marveled at the dragon's intelligence. Ghost was a quick learner, but it felt as if Sonarys understood every word.
Again the dragon roared, hot puffs of smoke rising in the air. Get on with it, the dragon seemed to tell him.
Very well, Jon muttered to himself and lifted himself up. Slowly, he climbed up the dragon's back and tried to be as mindful as possible. He didn't want to burn himself.
Arriving at the top he became aware of the dragon's pulse. It felt like a powerful heartbeat that filled the dragon's body with a vibrating sensation.
Again the dragon roared and Jon met his gaze.
He took one last breath before he gave the last command.
"Sōvegon!"
Jon held on the dragon's back as if his life depended on it when Sonarys started to flap his wings. Once, twice and a third time was enough to propel them in the air.
Jon felt a hint of dizziness as the world beneath his feet shrunk to nothingness. The green and yellow plains of Lhazar stretched as far as the eyes could see. Even the high walls of Lhazar were nothing, but a speck of white. The sky above was reminiscent of the sea, endless and breathtaking.
Jon understood now why Daenerys loved to fly. Seeing the world like this was marvelous. All fear left him in this moment triumph.
He couldn't help but to laugh.
"Egilkta!" he called out to the dragon and he obeyed his command.
Again the dragon flapped his wings and propelled them upwards. For a moment it felt as if Jon would drown in the pink sky spreading above.
Jon wanted to remain longer, but Sonarys had other plans. He started to roar and threw plumes of smoke in the air.
Enough, the dragon seemed to tell him.
"Very well," Jon replied with a smile and the Sonarys' back."Ilagon."
Obviously satisfied with his answer the dragon dipped lower, back where his other two brothers dug their resting places deep in the ground.
"Paez!" Jon added when the dragon descended on the scorched plain."Paez!"
Again the dragon roared and again Jon held onto his back as if his life depended on it.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, but when the movement stopped he realized that he was still sitting atop Sonarys' back.
It rode a dragon, he realized in amazement. And I am still here.
Again Sonarys roared and lowered his back.
"You want me gone, don't you?" he asked in amusement as he started to climb down from the dragon's back.
His feet felt wobbly as he walked, but he was otherwise unharmed.
"How was it?" Daenerys asked him after he found her seated beneath the hill.
He couldn't stop grinning like a fool.
"Wonderful," he replied and pulled her in his arms. She leaned in his touch and smiled up at him. She looked so beautiful, her cheeks flushed and her lips rosy like the sky above. "I didn't think flying could be this wonderful."
"Your fear blinded you," she answered with obvious amusement, a smile curling on her lips.
"I was indeed a little afraid…," he admitted openly and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face.
"Only a little?" she asked and leaned closer, her warm breath tickling his cheek.
"Alright, I was pissing myself in fear," he finally admitted and leaned down to kiss her lips. Her lips were soft and warm, stirring something inside him he had buried for the last weeks. Robb's letter brought him only pain and guilt. Even when he was planning to join the Night's Watch he had been hoping that Robb would ask him to stay. Robb was his brother, but he couldn't help but to harbor resentment towards him. The Robb he knew would have never defied his Lady Mother. What changed? Was it because he knew the truth? Not that it mattered. That was the past and his place was here.
It was still hard for him to accept, but he was both a wolf and a dragon. He had nursed doubts, but the ride on the dragon helped to strengthen his belief. Sonarys accepts me. Bastard or not, I am also a Targaryen.
"Where is your mind?" she asked him, her lips moving against his.
"Right here," he replied and pulled her closer, one hand buried in her hair and the other resting on her shoulder.
She chuckled, but was silenced when he crushed his lips to hers. Her hands went to his hair and she pulled hard.
She always liked doing that. It was a pleasant kind of pain. He needed no further invitation.
Then he leaned down and kissed her again. Together they stumbled in the grass. The dragons roared and Jon rumbled with laughter.
Again her hands pulled on his hair. He laughed and kissed her beneath the jaw. His kisses were soft and feather light.
She seemed to like it and giggled happily.
"You definitely have to ride your dragon more often," she remarked cheekily.
"It's Sonarys who has to agree," he whispered against her lips and started to brush up her dress. Her skin was pale and soft like silk.
It was not the first time he did this, but he marveled at her reaction. She gasped and moaned as he tasted her.
"Jon," she whispered and grabbed his hair. As always, he stopped when it was too much for her and lifted his head. He wiped his mouth and looked down at her, head rolled back and her purple eyes wide and blown.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked breathless and fumbled with the laces of breeches. He helped her, kissing her eagerly.
She stroked him and he gasped against her cheek. She was driving him mad.
"Stop," he said hoarsely and grasped her hand. "Stop."
She laughed and did as he asked of her. Her hand wandered back to his cheek and opened her thighs to cradle his body between her legs.
She whimpered against his cheek as he pushed into her. The feeling was too much and he stopped himself for a moment, savoring the feeling.
He moved hesitatingly, but he was unable to hold himself back when her fingers started to dig into his back. By the tenth time he grabbed her hand and thrusted deeper. Daenerys kissed him suddenly, hot puffs of air leaving her mouth.
It was enough to send him over the edge. Stars burst before his eyes and his other hand grabbed the grass beside her head as the last tendrils of pleasure washed over him.
It took him a moment to recover, his head resting on her chest. It was the song of the dragons that called him back to the present.
He wanted to slip out of her, but she grasped his shoulder.
"Stay a while longer. Let me hold you," she whispered. Her words warmed his heart, though he couldn't fathom how this position was pleasant for her.
"We should get going. Don't you need to drink your tea?" he asked, already half asleep. He could have stayed like this forever, but he knew how dedicated she was when it came to this, though it confused him at times.
"I am surprised you remember that," she said and smiled sweetly.
"You didn't do that before Aemon and now you are so dedicated. It just confuses me."
She sighed, her eyes narrowed in irritation.
"I can hardly ride a dragon if I am heavy with child," she replied jestingly. "And Tito's mother told me to wait. That is why I am drinking her tea with so much dedication."
The last part she said in a low voice as if she wanted to avoid talking about it.
Then she loosened her grip from his shoulder and tried to move away. He followed her wishes and rolled away, still confused by her behavior.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and avoided his gaze.
"Are you telling me everything?"
Her words confused him.
"What do you mean?"
"Every day you are staring at your brother's letter. Today was the first time in weeks that I saw you smile."
"My dark mood had nothing to do with you," he assured her and touched her shoulder. She shrugged him off and turned around. "I told you the reason and I have been thinking…thinking what we are going to do once Lord Wylis returns…," he trailed off, struggling to find the right words.
"I don't want to go to Winterfell," she said, before she was even able to form a sentence. Her answer was surprising and rather blunt. Why didn't she tell me before?
He looked at her and she continued.
"I don't want to go begging to your brother to allow us to stay. Everyone there will think me your whore and the Mad King's daughter. Besides, neither the Lannisters nor Baratheons would tolerate us or the dragons. You said so yourself."
She said this in such a quick manner as if these thoughts and feeling had been long simmering beneath the surface of her mind.
"I know that," he replied quickly. "The only way would be to take the crown. That is why I am waiting for Robb's answer. We are in need of support and I trust him."
"But I don't trust him," she said almost coldly, but corrected herself quickly. "I mean…I don't want to solely depend on him…if we are going to do what you suggested. I don't even know if I want that. I hate this Twyin Lannister for what he did to my niece and nephew, but I don't think it is right to pursue the crown for the sole purpose of revenge. Besides, there have to be other people that could Support us. Ser Barristan's thinks Rhaegar's former allies could help us."
"Ser Barristan is an old man…I doubt he has spoken to my father's so-called allies in a long time. But I agree with you…taking the crown shouldn't be done out of revenge, but it would be the only way for us to return to Westeros.
"Westeros," she repeated. "You call it home, but for me it is a foreign land. Maybe we are meant to be here to protect the Lhazareen from the Dothraki. Isn't that a worthier goal than to win a crown? Do you understand what I am trying to say?"
"I do," he confirmed and leaned over to touch her hand. "And I agree with you. The Lhazareen need protection. I wasn't aware that you harbor such dislike for my brother. You need to tell me these things. I cannot read your mind."
"Neither can I," she replied more softly, her purple eyes searching for his. "It is just...everyone I know left me. I am just afraid that you will do the same."
Her words felt like a slap to the face.
"Leave you?" he gasped. "I would never leave you. I love you…I just thought you wanted to take the crown as is your birthright. Especially, with Ser Barristan joining us..."
"I appreciate Ser Barristan's presence, but I am well aware how hard it would be to seize the throne. We have dragons, but no army. Dragons can die. Even Aegon the Conqueror's dragons were not invincible. But I don't want to go begging to your brother, because I fear he would only support us to take revenge against the Lannisters. I hardly recall Viserys, but what I do recall is his constant obsession with the past. I don't want to end up like him," she replied and tightened her grip on his hand. "I do love you, but I don't love your brother…I doubt I ever will. He bought me."
He swallowed hard, but it was true.
"You don't want to depend on my brother," he acknowledged her position. "I understand that. We will stay here."
When a hesitant smile crossed over her lips he felt a hint of a relief washing over her.
"And you mean that?" she asked.
It irritated him that she didn't believe him, but he also knew how it felt to be alone. It also hurt him that she thought he would leave her.
"Of course I mean it…Lying was never a habit of mine," he replied and touched her cheek.
She looked at him with wide purple eyes and bit her lips. She looked unsure as if she was torn on something.
"About the tea…I should have told you a long ago. Aemon's birth was not easy….stepping into the pyre saved my life. At least that is what I believe."
He didn't know what to say. It took him a moment to make sense of her words.
"So you did step in the pyre?" he asked disbelievingly and befuddled by this revelation. He saw her burned off hair, but it was still hard to believe. "And you didn't burn?"
"I didn't burn," she confirmed and touched his hand still resting on her cheek. "I don't know how it happened. I was bleeding heavily. I should have died, but I didn't… Tito's mother thinks should wait a while longer, before we attempt to have another child. That is why I am drinking the tea."
He didn't know what to say and pulled his hand away. He felt anger, but also fear.
"Are you angry?" she asked fearfully, her voice soft and distant to his ears.
"Of course I am angry!" he snapped and tried to calm his emotions. "You could die. And this tea…this tea really… works?"
Her eyes widened in fear and he instantly regretted his sharp words, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't fathom the thought of losing her.
"The tea works."
When he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes he brushed is anger away and leaned over to embrace her.
"Forgive my harsh words. I didn't mean it...I was just angry."
She held him closer and buried her head in his neck. Then she pulled back and leaned closer, their lips barely touching.
It was the anxious shrieking of the dragons alarmed them.
"I think someone is coming," Jon remarked and quickly started to lace up his breeches. Daenerys brushed down her dress and came to stand beside him.
Jon also rose to his feet and cast his way in the distance. He relaxed when he realized that it was Tito.
"Jon," he greeted and climbed from his horse. His hair was windswept and his bearing tense. "I bring bad tidings. It seems the Dothraki horde has returned."
…
Catelyn
Robb looked like a ghost. His face was pale like fresh-fallen snow, his cheeks gaunt and his hair was untidy. Again she found him grouching over his correspondence.
In one hand he held his quill and with the other hand he was tapping a blank piece of parchment. Greywind seemed to share her son's dark mood. He lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless and devoid of his usual energy.
This madness needs to end, she knew and gathered her courage.
She exhaled deeply and entered. The sound of her footfalls moving on the stone floor alarmed Greywind, but the wolf remained where he was, his eyes following after Catelyn as she passed.
Robb didn't move either, but he lifted his head and his blue eyes met hers. They were red-rimmed and underlined by dark cringes. The sight made her wince.
"Mother," he said and finally acknowledged her presence. "I called for you, didn't I?"
"You did," she confirmed plainly and moved closer. "You look tired. You should rest. It will help."
He shook his head and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"This will help…work. Something to distract my mind," he replied and pulled out several folded papers.
Catelyn sighed in exhaustion. For two days she had sat Lady Roslin's bedside, trying her best to comfort her, but in the end it was no use. Not even Maester Luwin had been able to stop the bleeding. The old Maester was even more distraught than Robb, though Catelyn had told him numerous times that he had not reason to feel guilty.
It happened to the best of women, her mother among them. Robb was there only at the end, yet he took it the worst. He acted as if he murdered her in cold blood and Catelyn couldn't accept that.
He has no reason to feel guilty and he has a child to take care of. It is a girl, but a healthy one.
"Distracting your mind won't help," she told him and leaned down to squeezed his hand. He pulled away and handed her one of the folded letters.
"I should have shown you this for a long time, but it took me a while to make the all the necessary inquiries. This letter here was written by Maester Aemon Targaryen, but these are father's words. It seems he entrusted the old man with his knowledge. It concerns a man known to you…Petyr Baelish…now the Lord Protector of the Vale."
Cat gasped and balanced herself against the table.
"Petyr is Lord Protector of the Vale?" she asked in utter disbelief."But…," she stuttered, unable to find the right words.
"It is true. Lord Royce confirmed it in our last correspondence. Petyr Baelish wed our Aunt Lysa a moon ago, but that is not the only interesting fact about this man," he added and waved the folded piece of paper in front of her eyes. "Read it."
Cat picked the letter from his hand read slowly. The Maester's writing was much more refined than Ned's, but these were clearly his words.
Petyr Baelish is a traitor. He promised to bring the Gold Cloaks to my side, but he betrayed me to the Queen. Do not trust him. All my confessions were as false as King Joffrey's birth right. The Queen confessed her crimes to my face. All her children are bastards.
Catelyn folded the paper and handed it back to Robb.
"What do you make of it?" Robb asked and gave her a weary look.
"But why?" she asked. "Why would Petyr do this?"
Robb frowned and put the piece of paper away.
"I don't know this Petyr Baelish, but I think I have an idea," he said and put the parchment back on the table. "The answer is simple: rejected love. Uncle Brandon fought this Petyr Baelish for your hand. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"
"Rejected love," she repeated and knew exactly what he was trying to say. The realization left her breathless. "Do you think he did it to get rid of your father?"
"Maybe," Robb said and nodded his head. "But I don't think this is his only motivation. Revenge perhaps and thirst for power... How do you think did he convince Aunt Lysa to wed him? Lord Royce informed me that the King gave his approval, but nothing more. What do you think?"
Cat didn't know what to think. Her mind was still mulling over Ned's words.
Gods, she thought and clutched her chest. I told Ned to trust him.
"Mother," Robb called her back to the present. "I need your advice, before I decide on this matter. I have never met Aunt Lysa. Do you think she wed him willingly or not?"
She swallowed hard and sat down in a nearby chair. She closed her eyes for a moment and answered Robb's question.
"Lysa was in love with Petyr since we were little girls. I have no doubt that she wed him willingly."
"That is what I feared," Robb grumbled and brushed his hand over his face. "And that is why she didn't help us. She has been under his thrall from the very beginning."
Cat tightened her grip on the handle of her chair and leaned forward to search her son's pale face.
"Do you think he planned it all?"
Robb's grim look told her everything she needed to know.
"I have no proof for this, but I think this Petyr Baelish is the missing piece in our puzzle. However, I don't think he had anything to do with Bran's fall. That was clearly the Kingslayer's work. Yet I think he intentionally mislead you to blame the assassination attempt on Bran's life on Tyrion Lannister. And there is this letter written by Aunt Lysa's hands. These are far too many coincidences."
"Indeed," Cat agreed, but was still unable to believe it."Do you think Lysa knew of his plans?"
"I think so, mother," Robb replied. "But I have no proof. That is why I want you to travel to the Vale."
"To the Vale?" she asked in confusion. "But Lysa would never tolerate me…," she said, but Robb cut her off.
"This Lord Baelish is now in charge. I think he might very well greet you with open arms. I think he is using Aunt Lysa. I think he is still hankering after you. Why else betray father?"
"Maybe," she agreed and folded her hands in her lap. "But what would be the purpose of my visit there?"
"To gather information and to arrange a marriage," Robb replied promptly.
"You want to marry so soon after…," she began, but stopped when she noticed the dark expression washing over his even-shaped face. "Forgive me."
He shook his head.
"Not for me. I want you to arrange a marriage between Lady Ysilla Royce and Uncle Edmure. I already have his approval in this matter if you are afraid he might be offended. He agreed after I wrote him about father's accusations against Lord Baelish. The Blackfish is also aware of this arrangement…it was in fact his idea. Lord Royce agrees as well."
Realization washed over her, but also disappointment.
"Why were you so hesitant to tell me about your plans?"
"I am the Lord of Winterfell," he replied determinedly. "I cannot rely on my mother forever. I need to stand on my own feet."
She felt both proud and sad. My boy is growing too fast.
"I understand," she replied and lowered her head in acceptance. "I assume you want me to get Petyr's approval."
"Exactly."
Cat swallowed hard and felt the urge to refuse.
"Robb…I don't know if I can do that. I don't think I can look Petyr in the eyes without strangling him to death."
"I know," Robb replied more softly. "But it is the only way to get justice for father and to protect the Riverlands. I doubt my peace with Tywin Lannister will last forever. The Riverlands are vulnerable. I want to make sure that we have the Knights of the Vale at our side. I know that not all of them would be prepared to defy the Lord Protector of the Vale, but Lord Royce cherishes his past friendship with father. A marriage with Lady Royce would secure his help for the next fight and with luck the other lords might follow his example."
"I understand, but I know Petyr. He will see through your plan."
"My plan maybe," Robb said. "But not yours. Make him believe that it was your idea. You want a worthy bride for your brother who ought to be a long time married. Make him believe that he is doing you a favour. Play the grieving widow…do everything you can do gain his trust."
Cat couldn't believe her ears. She didn't like the idea, but Petyr needed to pay for his crimes. For Ned.
"I understand. I will do as you ask."
"Good," Robb said and sighed in relief."I thank you, mother."
Then he leaned over and picked up another parchment.
It was made of a fine material, the broken sigil of House Baratheon visible on the front.
"From King's Landing," Robb said. "Dark wings, dark words. The King invited me to his wedding. To humiliate me I suppose. He also informed that Sansa is going to wed Willas Tyrell."
She nodded and swallowed hard. It is a good match. Why is he so angry?
"You can't go. Your father…," she began, but Robb's sharp gaze silenced her.
"I must go. Tywin Lannister is far too cautious to harm me. He won't risk a war. I intend to play along to cover our plot."
"Allow me to go in your stead," she offered. "I will go to the wedding."
"Don't be ridiculous, mother. It would be an outright insult if I sent you there as my substitute. You captured Lord Tywin's son. Have you forgotten?"
"I did not," she said and bit her lips. This rebuke was meant to silence me."Very well. Go and get yourself killed."
His gaze softened.
"I know you are afraid," he declared determinedly. "But I won't hide away from King Joffrey."
"Robb…," she muttered. "You bent the knee…you gave your vow."
"Fuck my vow…it was forced upon me. Stannis and Renly are dead. Tywin thinks his grandson's position is secured, but that couldn't be further from the truth. When the time comes we will have someone to rally around. I sent Lord Manderly to find Jon…and his lady."
"Robb...!" she gasped. "You don't know what you are talking about. The boy ran away with a whore…he probably married her. The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms would laugh at us."
"Whore or not," he replied surprisingly cold. "I rather see Jon on the throne with his so called whore than a cruel little shit like Joff. And what is Margaery Tyrell other than a whore in a wedding gown? She just gets a crown instead of coin. What is the difference?"
"There is a difference," she insisted and tried to hide her shock over his crude choice of words. What happened to my boy? When did he become this bitter? "Lady Margaery Tyrell is a lady of noble stock…" she tried to explain, but Robb didn't want to listen.
"And Joff is a bastard of incest," Robb ended for her. "It surprises me that you are defending him…a bastard."
She couldn't help but to feel anger stirring up inside her.
"So that is what this is all about?" she asked defiantly and rose to her feet. "What do you want me to do? Approve of Snow's actions? Love him? He may not be Ned's bastard, but associating ourselves with him could cost us our heads. Ned lied to me for fourteen years...I endured enough. Leave me at peace."
She had spoken these words with so much bitterness that even Robb stared back at her in silence.
She felt a hint shame, but she remained adamant in her position. Someone has to show reason.
"I am not the Lord of Winterfell and I have any right to tell you what to do, but I am still your mother. I call this madness. That is all I am going to say on this matter."
She expected another rebuke, but nothing of the sort happened.
"Your objections are noted." he muttered and fell back into his chair. He looked so weary as he leaned down to stroke Greywind's head. "Please leave me now. We will speak later."
She couldn't leave like this, even if his words hurt her deeply.
"I am not going to leave. There is another matter that deserves your attention. You have a child…a child without a name."
"I don't have time for this," he excused himself, but she wanted to hear none of it.
"I have no time for this," she repeated his words and stepped closer. "Running away from this won't solve your problem."
He averted his gaze.
"You know why I can't do it. I killed her…and the worst. I hardly showed her any attention. I was so occupied with my own problems."
"That is your guilt speaking," she said and knelt down next to him. "But you have child. You owe your wife to take care of the babe."
When he lifted his head she noticed the tears shining in his eyes.
"Very well…," he answered in a trembling voice and rose to his feet. Greywind followed suit, but Robb shook his head.
"Stay," he whispered to the wolf and opened the door for her. She didn't speak as she followed after him.
They put the babe's nursery in Sansa's old chamber. It was still hard to look at the room, without thinking of her little girl. Catelyn feared the worst, but now she felt only relief.
The heir to Highgardnen was a worthy match. Better than King Joffrey.
The nursemaid gave them a surprised look and nearly jumped out of her seat.
She obviously didn't expect Robb's appearance.
"I apologize…," she said, but Robb gave her a weary smile and waved his hand. She nodded her head and slipped out of the room, leaving only Robb, Cat and the babe.
She looked like a bit like Arya. Her hair was brown and her face was always deeply flushed when she started to cry. Only the touch of red in her otherwise brown hair gave an indication of her Tully blood.
Robb didn't move. He simply stared at the babe.
A long moment of silence passed before he finally moved towards the crib. Ever slowly, he leaned down and touched the babe's curly hair.
The babe stirred and opened her eyes. They were blue and clear as the sky.
"Lyanna," Robb said at last and leaned down to place a kiss on the babe's head. "That will be her name."