AN: I do not own any of these characters. George Double R Martin does. Yeah…
Chapter 23 Catelyn III Daenerys VII
Catelyn
Hers was a somewhat gentle prison. Catelyn took comfort in at least that much. The ironborn in Moat Cailin she thought to be at least a bit more cruel, but she had modest chambers and she could smell the bog outside. She was in a tall tower, Catelyn knew, a tall tower that overlooked the Northern camp. Catelyn could hear them stirring every morning, with the neighing of horses and clanking of metal. There was a window in her chambers, a small window but it would do. If she stood on her cot she could see the whole northern camp ahead of them with their pitched tents and rising smoke coming from behind. Where are you Bran? Why are you taking so long.
Catelyn thought that the Ironborn were going to kill her upon arrival, since they were such a hard-treacherous people, but they stayed their hand. She could remember the night they took her straight from her tent, that cold damp night that felt like such a long time ago. Catleyn remembered waking up in a strange mans arms, slumped over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and she began to kick and scream. He threw her onto the ground and threatened to kill her before slapping her around once or twice. It shut her up. As she laid there on his shoulder, she could smell the salt and sweat in his hair and knew he was Ironborn.
"Who are you?" Catelyn pleaded as they made their decent from the Northern camp back to wherever he was taking her. "I am Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell and I demand to know who. you. are."
He made no reply, except to grunt. Catelyn could feel his anger rising in him, and he didn't like when she talked. So she decided to stay quiet for her sake, and did not ask anymore questions. The ironborn man was so serious.
"You're ironborn, I can see," Catelyn had told him, as they made their way further to the tower. "I can smell the salt in your hair and the sea in your breath. You reek of mud and you do not care to strike a lady. If you take me back now I won't seek retribution but-"
"You're words and promises are empty," he had finally replied. The man had a very strong-firm voice, "I am the one in control here and not you. You're lucky that Queen Asha has permitted me from killing you and taking you as a prize. We can do that now since the old ways were reinstated, but I have to obey or be killed. I wish I didn't have to obey."
That shut Catelyn right up. She knew what he had meant by the "old ways." The Ironborn were raiders and plunderers, taking what they willed by raiding the coasts. Their words were, "We do not sow," and the meaning was plain enough. They were savages in Catelyn's eyes. She remembered overhearing Theon Greyjoy speaking of his people, and their old ways that were lost to Aegon the Conquerer when he took the Seven Kingdoms. Before the War of Conquest, the Ironmen would use lightning raids from the sea to carry away women and plunder and burn what they left behind. Using this method they carved a great kindgom out of the riverlands, though their ships were known from the Free Cities to the southern coasts of Westeros near Oldtown. During the War of Conquest, Aegon I pacified the ironborn and outlawed the custom, at least within the kingdom, as the ironmen were allowed to prey on the shipping and settlements of the Free Cities and far away places. Those that continue to act in such a manner are said to be keeping to the 'old way.'
Catelyn half-expected to just be killed right then and there in her tent, but the ironborn had different plans. Instead, Catelyn was to be delivered to Asha Greyjoy, wherever the woman was to be. She found herself being lead inside one of the towers of Moat Cailin and under the custody of one of the ironborn men. He was a burly man with a bald head and round gut, Catelyn didn't know he his name and he never told her. She was lead up a huge flight of stairs and the tower smelled of the bog outside. Musky and rotten.
"What is to become of me?" She asked the man, being lead upstairs. He made sure to walk behind her at a slow pace.
"That is for queen Asha to decide," the man told him in his hoarse voice.
Catelyn scoffed. "And am I to get a private meeting with the Queen of the Iron Islands?"
He remained silent.
"How long do you deem to keep me?"
"Do I look like I have all the fucking answers?" He spat back, nudging her up the steps with the back of his hand.
"The least you could do is tell me where I am, or why you've taken me."
He sighed loudly, more of a growl. "You're obviously in Moat Cailin."
"I know I'm in the Moat, but which tower-"
"Do I appear as a fucking guide to answer all your questions about the land of Westeros? No, I don't. So keep walking and shut up!"
Catelyn rolled her eyes and walked the rest of the way up in silence. Along the way she thought about what tower she could possibly be in. She knew that Moat Cailin had three towers: the Drunkard's Tower, the Gatehouse Tower, and the Children's Tower. By the appearance of this tower, with its walls still intact and a ceiling over their heads, Catelyn knew it had to be the Gatehouse Tower. The Drunkard's Tower was too lean to be this one, and the Children's Tower was almost in ruins.
"Will you tell the queen that I wish to speak with her," Catelyn proposed to the man. "That, as the Lady of Winterfell I wish to speak with her."
"She thought you might." The ironborn took her by the arm and marched her the rest of the steps, one by one until she was out of breath. Catelyn could tell that her cell was all the way at the top, she eyed each window that she passed by and wondered when Bran would attack. Surely he has gotten word of my disappearance by now.
When the man barred and closed the door behind her, Catelyn took some time to explore her cell, if you could call it that. It was a small room with stone walls all around it, a small cot in the corner of the bed, and a table next to it that had some sort of game board on it. It was a board with pieces on it of wood, she figured, they were shaped into animals such as elephants, dragons, soldiers, calvary, a king, catapults and trebuchets. She recognized the game but couldn't put her finger on it. A chair sat in the corner of her room, small and made out of wood with a grey woolen dress on it. Am I to play dress up while I am here? All Catelyn was wearing was her nightclothes, and her furs that she was wearing from that night. There was also a chamber pot next to the bed, and surprisingly a small flagon of water on the table too. She noticed a small window above her cot that was centered on the wall. I could look outside it if I stood upon it, Catelyn realized.
After washing off her face with some water she went over and stood upon the cot to look out the window. Outside she saw the bog clear as day with its quicksand and mud. Even further back was the Northern camp with the steam coming out of it like smoke out of an oven. Where are you Bran? The day was sunny and she could tell that she was really high up. It gave her a nice view of the lands that lead to the Moat, and if Bran were to attack she could see the battle.
That night, Catelyn could not fall asleep. The cot was too tough and her whole body ached from hours of being slumped over the mans shoulder. Even when she finally fell asleep she found no peace in her dreams. That night she dream of her family, of Ned, James, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and even to an extent, Jon. She dreamed of standing upon the balcony of the Great Hall that overlooked the practice yard with Ned by her side. It was a cold summer afternoon and she was watching her sons practice at swords with Ser Rodrik and Theon Greyjoy. Part of Catelyn knew that this was a dream, even as she dream it. Don't grow too attached, Catelyn told herself, but when morning came, she was still in that damn cell, Ned and Robb were still gone and she was still alone.
Catelyn threw herself out of bed and stood upon it to look outside. The Northern camp was still there with its tents, direwolf banners, and steam pouring out of it. Where are you Bran? She jumped off and found a chest at the foot of her bed, the wood was worn down and had knife cuts in it. Inside it were more clothing, simple woolen dresses of different plain colors; one was green, the other black, and the last was a dark blue. Including the grey one on her chair, Catelyn had only these four dresses to wear. She stripped out of the nightclothes she'd traveled in and donned the dark blue dress, trying to imagine them as Tully colors. That way she could irk Asha Greyjoy with the choice of dress. Catelyn knew her as a tom-boy, and it often reminded her of Arya. She expected to see the woman that day, but when the door opened it was only the burly ironborn man coming with her mid-day meal.
"When will I see the queen?" Catelyn asked him, but he would never answer. She knew he hated being forced into playing the part of a servant, and the man always voiced his displeasure. He slammed a tray of food onto her table, which was a simple meal of just porridge that they had in high supply.
"Porridge again?!" Cat exclaimed, but the man kept quiet which was odd. "I can tell you that I am not nearly hungry enough to eat this again. Take this away and bring me real food."
"Fine," he hoarsely replied, taking away the porridge. "You can starve for all I care."
"No!" she blurted, "I'll eat the porridge."
He grunted and slammed the bowl back onto the table, it gave a little jump as some of it splattered. Once the food was eaten, there was nothing else for Catelyn to do. She paced around her small cell, thinking of whatever her mind wondered to. She sat beside the game board and idly moved one of the crossbowmen. She stood upon her bed and looked outside, finding solace in the strange bog. Catelyn would stare at the Northern camp for hours on end, and just stare at the ant-sized men that would move across from tent to tent. Bran, my boy, won't you come and rescue me? We must take this Moat and move onto to Riverrun like James asked. From there we need to go to King's Landing and rescue your brothers and sisters.
Finally, she crawled from the window and just laid down on the small bed. The room began to grow cold and dark around her, and there was little she could do but sleep and think. Why would Asha take me? she thought. Their must be some reasoning behind this. But she could never come up with some answer. Catelyn wasn't a general in her son's army, wasn't a brilliant tactician, she wasn't a lord or a queen, she was just Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell. Why would Asha Greyjoy need to take her? If they wanted me dead, they would have killed me already. They would have killed me in my tent on that night. That can't be it.
When Asha would come to see her, she would learn why. Asha Greyjoy did not come the next day, though. Nor the day after. The widow of Eddard Stark was left to pace, think, and nurse her wounded pride. During the daylight hours she would try to learn the game board on her table, coming up with different rules that she perceived from the game; the dragons would be the most powerful piece on the board, the elephant following, and then it went from there. From there she would go stand on the cot, and continued watching the Northern camp to see if the men were preparing for battle, but it was just business as usual. The men were walking around, carrying supplies, bathing, some were practicing with swords and the like. Bran will rescue me soon, she told herself.
Each day passed like this. She saw nobody besides the burly ironborn man who was dressed in his grey woolen armor with the kraken on it. Seaweed dangled from his breastplate, and his hair never grew back. Catelyn never bothered to ask his name, and didn't want to speak with him but she was desperate for human contact. The man would bring her meals, empty her chamber pot beneath her privy, but not without leaving her with some kind words. "I'm no fucking servant," he'd growl. "I'm Ironborn and I shouldn't bow and scrape to some wolf-bitch." She'd only be fed three times a day, sometimes two, and most of the time it was either porridge or chicken. Just plain chicken with some water. Most days she preferred the porridge.
"When will I see the queen?" Catelyn would always ask him each day, but that was the only question he ignored. If Catelyn asked him how he was doing, he'd usually reply with a sarcastic comment and leave then.
"I grow tired of these antics and wish to speak with her. I know you won't kill me, because you would have done so already. Tell the queen I want to speak with her." But he wouldn't answer.
"Today?" Catelyn asked, a few days later, "If you don't want me to throw myself out of that window I demand to see her today."
He'd only grunted and walked out the door. Does she wish to suck the life out of me? Cat thought, Does she wish to see me suffer before I can speak with her? What is the point in all of this? Catelyn grew to love the quiet, and enjoyed the time alone to heal and fortify herself for whatever was to come. She found herself reminicising about times past, when she was together with her family as one. She looked back on her regrets. Encouraging Ned to take Robert's offer was one of them, she looked back on them all. Taking the Imp was another. Leaving Bran's side to go to King's Landing, believing Littlefinger about the dagger, treating Jon so poorly, letting James take the black. All of those regrets poured out of her and she licked her wounds.
Finally enough time had passed that Catelyn's patience had worn paper thin. "I will speak with the queen now," she told the burly man in a commanding voice, the same voice she used to discipline her children. "Take me to her." The man did not take her to Asha. "I will see queen Asha today!" She yelled at him the next day, but he just grunted and called her an annoying wolf-bitch before leaving the room. The next day Catelyn decided the she had to do something about her predicament, and she stood by the door the next morning, waiting. When the man opened the door she bursted past him and ran down the stairs, but he caught her by the collar of her dress and slammed her onto the ground. She hit the stone floor with a solid thud and saw stars around her. He dragged her back into the room, kicking and screaming before throwing her onto the cot and walking out the door.
That night she spent it in bed with a throbbing headache, and a bump forming on the back of her head. It was then that she thought of her children most of all. Catelyn had stopped looking out the window a long time ago, thinking that the torment of watching her son do nothing was too much to bear. So, she left her mind to her thoughts, and those thoughts were always of Ned and the kids. There was, James, her first-born son and now king. What a cruel jest, Catelyn told herself, James was never meant to be a king. Robb was the king, Catelyn concluded, he was the one who was born to lead while James was meant to follow. Her son tried his best, she knew, but he didn't want it and didn't own it like Robb. Bran was a natural leader, as Catelyn had seen in these past few months. His banner men respected him and loved him, as they had loved his father and brother. Rickon was still a green boy who had a lot of growing up to do, but Catelyn just let him be. Already he reminded her so much of James at his age. A careless womanizer, Catelyn put it. Whereas James stayed with that one whore of Winterfell, the red head that he bedded.
Yes, Catelyn knew about his liaisons with her in the godswood, but she never said anything. What could she do? James would have found another way. She did not know about them until Robb's fifteenth name day, when the family was in the Great Hall feasting as one. James had come down from the Wall at the time, as he was still a novice and had freedom to come and go as he pleased. Catelyn remembered sitting in her chair, with Ned beside her and her children were below them laughing and talking. She then remembered hearing Theon Greyjoy boast about some whore he had bedded the night before, "I made Ros scream until she yelled my name. I did her good for you, James!" No sooner then he had said it did James lunge at him from across the table. The two boys went tumbling down, sending plates and cups flying off the table. James and Theon threw punches at each other, James was standing on top of him throwing punches . Robb and Jon tried to pull him off but he was a man possessed, while Bran and Rickon were off to the side in shock, and Sansa was screaming with Jeyne Poole, Arya was just laughing. Theon managed to elbow him in the face, and he flew off him. It took Ned to make them stop. By the end both boys had bloodied faces and soiled prides.
Arya was happily married with her children and Gendry, while Sansa was with them too, in love with Jon so they say, or so Bran said. Catelyn didn't know what to make of that just yet.
Days came and went, one after the other, so many that Catelyn lost count of how long she had been imprisoned. She found herself spending more and more time abed with her thoughts, until she reached the point where she did not rise at all except to use the privy. The porridge the burly man brought grew cold, untouched. Catelyn slept and woke and slept again, and still felt to weary to rise. She prayed to the Seven that she clung to so fiercely in her life. She prayed to the Mother for mercy and the Warrior for courage, then slept some more. Fresh chicken and porridge replaced the cold ones, but she did not bother to touch them either. One day, she decided to look out the window again and found that the Northmen were practicing some sort of drill that she did not recognize. About a dozen of them were lifting a giant wooden covering.
Then a day came when a rough hand woke her, shaking her by the shoulder. "Up Wolf-bitch," the burly man yelled. The burly man stood over her in that same damned armor he had worn since day one. Catelyn looked up at him, sleepingly. Even though she did not like this man, he had been the only companion she had this whole time. Catelyn looked beside him and saw a figure sitting at table playing with the game board. It was a woman with short-black cropped hair and a sharp nose in a thin face. She was wearing a riding tunic with breeches, a kraken on her tunic. Asha Greyjoy…
"Asha?" Catelyn called out to the woman. She looked up at her and then went back down to the game board.
"That is 'Her Grace' to you, Wolf-Bitch." The burly man spat at her.
Asha stared at him and looked back to Catelyn. "Lady Stark," she said, "come sit with me here."
Catelyn stood from the bed and took a seat across from the Greyjoy woman, who was now idly toying with one of the elephants. She smiled at Cat and handed her a cup of water which she took and drank.
"Leave us." She commanded to the burly man. He grunted before bowing his head and closing the door behind him.
Asha knocked down a crossbow men with her elephant before speaking to Catelyn, "Cyvasse is an interesting game, is it not?"
Cyvasse! That is what it is called. "So it would seem, Your Grace."
She gave her a small smile. "My father taught it to me as a kid and I couldn't stop playing," she took the dragon in her hand, "and honing my skills. I felt that those transferred onto the battlefield. It somewhat taught me how to lead in a world dominated by men."
Cat kept quiet.
"Did you play at all, Lady Stark?"
Catelyn shook her head. "I did not know of the game, Your Grace, but I did figure out how it was played."
"It is easy," she replied. "I learned when I was five, so why can't you now? I believe life is like a game of cyvasse. Each move can alter your fate, and if you make the wrong move," she took her dragon and knocked down Catelyn's king, "you lose."
Catelyn gave a small smile. "That is certainly some interesting insight, Your Grace. But as much as I am interested in this game I-"
"-You were hoping I'd tell you why I took you?"
Cat nodded.
Asha looked up at her, setting down the trebuchet she had. "We had hoped that by taking you it would make your son desperate to attack us. I sent an envoy to him the next day, telling him that I took you and that you were in Moat Cailin. But I never told him what tower you were in. I had hoped that he would react rashly and attack all out, but I was wrong."
"Bran knows that I am here?"
She sighed. "Did I not just say that, Catelyn? Yes, your son knows you are here."
Where are you Bran? "What is to become of me?"
Asha shrugged. "Mayhaps I can ransom you, make you a servant of mine, kill you, give you to one of my men, who knows what I could do. I am Queen of the Iron Islands now."
"You wouldn't dare do that."
She cocked her head to look at Cat. "I could if I wanted to, Lady Stark, and there is nothing you could do to stop me."
"The only reason you're Queen of the Iron Islands is because of Aegon Targaryen."
Asha looked at her with a stern face, but it did not scare Catelyn. "Yes, you may be right there, Lady Stark. Aegon Targaryen did make me Queen of the Iron Islands, and will let us have the old ways once he takes his throne. We will take what was ours."
"Aegon won't give you part of his kingdom!" Cat yelled. "You are nothing but his puppet."
"I bow to no man!" She spat at Cat. "I am a warrior woman and I lead men into battle. The same can't be said for the likes of you."
"You're a fool to believe him. Aegon will never let you be Queen of the Iron Islands, and the fact that you're so blind just makes you even more foolish."
Asha tsked. "Careful, Lady Stark. My mercy does have limits…"
Catelyn studied her face before she asked, "Why? Why go in league with Aegon Targaryen? Why trust him?"
Asha sat forward in her chair and took a cup of water as well before answering, "I believe you partially know the answer to that question. Aegon has promised me not only the seastone chair, but Independence. He says he will keep to his word. I could've gone over to your son, but he did not show me such kindness."
"Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Aegon."
Asha smiled at her. "Why he was at the Vale for a time, and was going to go to King's Landing to release the dragons but he thought against it. He realized it would be too dangerous, so he sent Baelish and Varys instead."
"Varys? Littlefinger?"
She laughed. "Why most certainly! They've been supporters of Aegon this whole time, don't you see? Varys had always been Aegon's man."
Damn that eunuch. "Where is he now?"
Asha smiled again. "Well, Aegon did come here for a time. I kept him well hidden in this very cell, in fact. He did not complain at all and I did his bidding for him."
"And now?"
Asha shrugged. "He then went to Highgarden for some time….to spend time with his betrothed, Margaery Tyrell. Cunning bitch, that one. She sent that red-haired whore after your son and caused the strife between the king and Targaryen queen. She also planned the assassination attempt on your son, even though they botched it."
I'm going to kill her. "Is he still in Highgarden?"
Now Asha flashed her a devilish smile. "No, he is not. Aegon," she paused looking at Catelyn in the eyes, "is on his way to King's Landing with an army of men. He took some of my ships."
The shock must've been on Cat's face, because Asha began to laugh. "Yes, the hour is finally upon us. He left quiet a bit ago and by my guess he should be there by now. King's Landing could be his as we speak."
Gods, Catelyn cursed, she said a silent prayer to the Father to watch over her family in King's Landing. Asha did not linger much longer, as she quickly rose from her chair and left Catelyn in her room. The day passed as the rest had before, and she spent it sleeping in her bed thinking about her family in King's Landing. Paranoia and worry filled Catelyn's thoughts, and she just wanted to know if everything was all right. The burly man came in with her food again, and she finally ate today. Sleep did not come for her this night, but finally it took her.
AAAHHHOOOOOO, she heard early in the morning. Catelyn jumped out of the bed and looked around. By now the burly man would have come in and placed the porridge on her table, but she did not find it there. Outside she heard cursing and rustling. AAAAHHHOOOOO, she heard again it blasted across the bog and she finally realized what it was: the Northern war horn. Catelyn, quickly ran over to her chest and flung on her dark blue dress, as the horn continued to blow, sounding the men to the battle. Outside her cell she could hear ironborn rumbling and yelling, most of them were archers, she knew. Bran must know that I am here. Catelyn looked around for anything she could use to symbol to Bran where her chambers were, but couldn't find anything. AAAHHOOOOO, the war horn blew again.
Catelyn stood on top of her cot and looked down upon the scene. She saw northmen coming down upon the Moat, a huge wooden shield was coming down on the Kingsroad. It was made of wood, Catelyn could tell, and it was painted black with a white sun on it. The Karstarks, she realized. It was the diversion force that Bran had spoken about. The main force were making their way around the swamp and were coming from behind, being led by the Greatjon. The arrows began to fly down upon the Karstark men, as the shield was being riddled with arrows. Catelyn felt her stomach in a knot, and soon the air was filled with sound of men screaming and hissing arrows. She couldn't see everything perfectly, but Catelyn saw some of the battle looming below her. The men were getting bigger as they made their way slowly down the Kingsroad. Some arrows were beginning to make their mark, and the Karstark men were falling by the dozens. Catelyn saw a few of them take it in the face, neck, and torso. The quicksand was making it hard to move, and for those who couldn't make it behind the shield were the first dead.
Bran must know I'm up here, Catelyn thought again. She turned around and looked to see what she could use to hang outside the window. First I have to break this window. Catelyn jumped off the bed and found the game board that was actually made out of solid wood. She threw the pieces off it and began to pound on the window with it. It took a few solid strikes, but suddenly the window shattered and shards of glass went flying everywhere. A few pieces cut her dress and she felt blood trickling down her forehead. Now what do I hang? Catelyn looked around once again, and couldn't think of anything to dangle. They'll need to know it was me.
"Forward!" Catelyn heard a northmen shout. "Winterfell!" Another shouted.
Catelyn finally found something she could use: her grey woolen dress. It was not only Stark colors, but it would help the men see where she was. Cat grabbed the dress off the chair and climbed back up the cot again. She took the dress and stabbed it onto a shard of glass that was sticking up from the window sill. The dress flew threw the window and hugged tightly against the wall. Catelyn looked at the battle now. Some Karstark men were retreating back, and she saw the wooden shield had now reached the tower. Under the shield she saw the men were holding a battering ram, and the tower began to shake with each strike. The retreating Karstark men were being hit in the back with arrow fire, and Catelyn saw hundreds of them littered about the Kingsroad and swamp.
AAAAHOOOOOO, she heard again but this time the war horn came from behind her cell. The Greatjon!
"They've brought up a ram from behind!" She heard an ironborn yell from outside.
"The men in the Children's Tower surrendered and the Manderly's have overran the Drunkard's Tower! The Greatjon is coming from behind!" She heard another man yell.
Catelyn hopped down from her cot and sat in her seat, as she knew it was just a matter of time before they took the last one. She could feel the battering ram hit against the door a few more times, and then finally she heard the splintering of wood. "The door is opened!" She heard somebody yell from outside. The broken window let the smell of the bog reek throughout the room, and a cold draft began to creep through. Catelyn heard screams and clashing swords outside her chamber, as the sound grew closer and closer. She braced herself for the worst, but finally she heard a familiar voice.
"Take that you fucking squids!" She heard the Greatjon growl in his booming voice.
Suddenly Catelyn saw her door begin to splinter, as it finally caved in. Standing at the doorway was Jon Umber, his great sword was bloodied and his face was splashed with a mix of blood and sweat.
"We've found her!" He yelled out into the halls.
"Lord Umber," Catelyn said in her lady demeanor.
He bowed. "Lady Stark."
The Greatjon strode the room in a few strides and yelled out the door, "ALL THE SQUIDS ARE DEAD! MOAT CAILIN IS OURS!"
A great cheer came from the remaining men outside, and he lead Catelyn out of the room. She took one last look at the cell, and went out with the Greatjon. He had sent an envoy to Bran to tell him that they'd taken the Moat, and the road north was open. Thirty minutes later she was outside for the first time in only gods knew how long, and was on a horse making her way towards the Northern camp. On the way down the tower she had remembered seeing the scores of Ironborn that were slaughtered by the Greatjon's men. It was when she got to the bottom of the steps that she saw the burly men slumped against the wall with a hole in his stomach. Catelyn sent a prayer to the father to judge him justly. As she made her way across the Kingsroad and field, she couldn't help but notice the amount of Northmen they had lost in the attempt. Scores of Karstark men were being dragged from the road, and the Silent Sisters were already out there collecting the dead.
She had finally finished taking her hot bath for the first time in months, and was preparing to meet with the Lord of Winterfell. Catelyn still decided to wear the dark blue dress, and was escorted to her son's personal tent in the middle of the camp. The guard opened the flap for her, and she stepped inside. Bran was at his desk in his chair, listening to the army maester giving him the number of dead and wounded.
"I'll need more bandages for the wounded, my lord." He told him.
Bran nodded and bid him leave, as he noticed his mother. Bran had grown a wilder beard since last she saw him, and his shoulders had grown broader. Catelyn ran over to him and took him in her arms, as he kissed her brow and whispered how sorry he was for making her wait so long, telling her that he couldn't attack the Moat so rashly. Catelyn forgave him and told him she understood. They supped together that night, and she told him about her captivity. About how Aegon was here at the Moat, then at Highgarden, and now was on his way to King's Landing.
"We have to move to King's Landing with all haste," Catelyn advised her son.
He sat there in his chair and raised a hand to his chin. "My army has taken a beating today, mother. We have many men, and I cannot move my army just yet."
"But we must go with all haste!"
"At the expense of my men? If we move now then more will die, and I can not do that to them."
"Bran, James needs-"
"I know what he needs! And I'm sorry that I can't be there for him, but if what Asha said is true and Aegon could be there now, and then it might be too late. No matter what happens I won't arrive in time. I'm sorry, mother."
Catelyn saw where he was coming from. The wounded needed to be treated first, and the men needed to rest before moving through the Moat. It would take them quite awhile to mount up and move through regardless, so Bran was right in some way. It was too late to help James. He was in the hands of the gods.
Catelyn took a breath before speaking, "So where do we go now? Back home to Winterfell?"
Bran shook his head. "No. We can not turn back around now."
"So where do we go?"
"We go to where James bid me to go, mother."
"Where?"
"We're going to Riverrun and saving uncle Edmure. We will relieve the siege and from there move to King's Landing…let's just hope the gods are watching over our family."
-x-
Daenerys
The torches shimmered brightly against the hammered metal of the wall sconces, filling the Queen's Ballroom with silvery light. Yet there was still darkness in that hall. Daenerys could see it in the pale eyes of the ladies of court that sat around her, in the men-at-arms and two Kingsguard that stood at attention at the door, both of them still as stone. They're scared, Dany realized looking around the room, they're scared for what will happen, but I am not. The blood of the dragon is never scared and I must be strong. The queen must always be strong. She could see it plainly on the women's faces, they clung together in small groups as they prayed and sang hymns. Dany was never one for prayer or worship but today was different, she stood to lose everything. She found herself saying silent prayers too.
Dany had finished eating her simple broth, when the first men-at-arms came into her ballroom, it was some man she had never known with the Targaryen dragon on his breast plate. He had climbed the dais and knelt by the high seat beside Dany, smelling of sweat and blood, with his hair falling down past his collar into his eyes.
"The fleet has been seen entering the bay, Y'Grace. The archers have lined up on the ramparts with the men-at-arms collecting at the Mud Gate. They will be upon the shore soon. Some looting has begun down at Flea Bottom, but the Gold Cloaks have seen to it, and the Sept of Baelor is filled with praying."
"And my husband?" Dany asked him, smiling to make him at ease. She knew the profound effect her beauty had on men. Daenerys had chosen her favorite violet dress that clung to her, with her crown heavy on the brow.
"His Grace is on the ramparts with the Lord of Storm's End, the Lord Hand, and the Imp, speaking of battle plans. He is telling the men to be brave, and has been lifting the morale."
Don't be the hero, James. I see the Night's Watchmen hasn't died in him yet. "Thank you, kind ser. Go back to the king."
He gave a swift bow and walked out, as Dany beckoned her page for more wine, a vintage of Arbor Gold that she had ordered up from the cellar, it was fruity and rich. Daenerys did not normally drink so heavily, but tonight was a special occasion and it calmed her nerves. She had to be calm. The wine had begun to flush her cheeks and her head had started to spin. We wouldn't be in this mess if we had my other children. Where are you my children? Daenerys had called out to her dragons on numerous occasions since their escape, but they would not answer. Dany figured they harbored feelings of malcontent towards her for being chained, and her children were such intelligent creatures. Tyrion had told her that they were in a warmer climate, perhaps Dragonstone or the ruins of Valyria but Dany didn't know. She just regretted agreeing to having them chained.
The musicians were playing. The jesters jesting. Jugglers were juggling. The children in the room were being entertained and were laughing, it warmed Dany's heart. Her children and her niece and nephew were all asleep in the corner of the room, with Irri and the handmaidens watching over them. The guests were laughing right along with the children who were still awake, but Daenerys knew the laughter could turn into crying in about a quick second. Their bodies are here but their thoughts are on the city walls, and their hearts as well. As my heart is there too.
After her broth, Dany, decided to have a nice salad with apples that she quite enjoyed. Usually it would have been figs with olives and bread, but she wanted to eat light. The food would have tasted better on any given day, but her appetite was just lost, as were everyone else's by the look of it. Most of the women couldn't eat, particularly Sansa. The auburn haired woman was over in the corner of the room watching the children sleep with her sister Arya.
They were both talking to themselves in hushed voices, and were trying to calm down the rest of the women. Most of them had begun to cry, and some whimpers could be heard here and there. Arya had made sure to walk around and offer words of comfort, putting on her strong sense of stoicism, but Daenerys knew her thoughts were on Gendry and her brothers. Sansa, was of a different nature. Try as she might she couldn't keep back her tears, and had let a few roll down her cheek, staring out the window. No doubt she was thinking about Jon and her brother.
Earlier that day when the bells began to toll, she was in the gardens with the children and her sisters by law. All three women were picking blue flowers as the kids were chasing each other. When the bells began to boom throughout the city, Dany had dropped her flowers. The women all gave each other looks of concern, rushing over to grab the kids. Daenerys immediately ran over to the Great Hall with Rhaella in her arms, and the women running behind them. She already found the men there with the Kingsguard, dawning their armor.
The throne room was dimly lit, as night was falling around them. James had his breastplate with the direwolf of Stark running across it, and his sword belt on. Each woman ran over to their respective man, as Daenerys ran up to James and threw herself around him, kissing him long before pulling away. He had told her how they confronted Varys when they heard the bells begin to toll, confessing his treachery before them. Dany was about to ask him whether he performed the deed, but men-at-arms began to fill the room pulling him away. She did not shed a tear when he gave her the one last final hug and kiss, walking out the Throne Room with Gendry, Jon, and Tyrion by his side. Then the woman took the kids and went to the ballroom, where they are now.
Dany ordered her page to fill up her cup again, the Arbor Gold was very refreshing this time around. She'd hardly touched her salad by this point, and had mostly kept to herself. The women were still praying and singing, the kids laughing and crying. Daenerys saw Sansa and Arya walking towards her with smiles, which she returned in kind. Both of them sat upon cushioned seats before her on the stairs of the high dais.
"Wine?" Dany offered, handing them both empty cups. She ordered the page over with the flagon and saw them filled. They slowly brought the cups to their lips, taking small sips as they ate their salads. Dany tried to eat a little too.
"How are you doing?" She asked them, realizing it was a stupid question.
"I'm managing," Arya answered first.
The Stark woman was in her typical dress of grey and had a dagger by her side. Daenerys laughed when she saw it, but realized it would come into play if they were to loose the city. Although, Dany knew she wouldn't be harmed, it was her family she worried about. Her children.
"I'm scared," Sansa admitted. "I am trying to be strong for the women here, but my heart is with Jon. I can't stop thinking about him."
Dany reached out and touched her hand. "Jon will be ok, Sansa. Gendry will be ok, as will James," she laughed, "even my dwarf will be ok. One must have hope."
"Men must be brave though," said Sansa. "To ride out there and face swords and axes, all the men trying to kill you…"
"Gendry once told me that he only felt alive when he fought in battle and when he was in bed." Arya said, raising her cup to take a long swallow after speaking.
Dany laughed. "James told me the same thing. Telling me that when he was a boy he only felt truly alive when he fought and fucked."
Sansa scoffed at her foul language, but Arya laughed; Dany knew it was the wine talking, she normally wasn't like that.
"Let me tell you something," Arya began. "I'd rather be fighting out there with men and face their swords, with Needle in hand. I hate being cooped up in here like some frightened woman just because of my sex."
Daenerys agreed with Arya on that point. She'd rather be out there by James, riding Drogon as she did when she first took King's Landing. But she knew that she had to be here for not only the women, but her children. She was a queen and had to show them that she was strong. Also James would've never allowed it. The man he was.
"You mustn't say things like that, Arya," Sansa scolded.
"It's true," she replied. "I know that I can fight better than half of those men out there. The Gold Cloaks aren't soldiers, and half of those men-at-arms are green boys who'd run at the first sight of blood. The archers are of no use once they come into contact with swords, and the wildfire is as likely to destroy the city as it is protecting it."
"Must you always be so gloomy," Sansa chided.
Arya shrugged, as she studied the wives, mothers, and daughters who filled the ballroom with them. "Look around you, Sansa. All these women are just frightened hens who cannot stop crying. All of their husbands are by the Mud Gate right now, fighting their battle for them. Sure, some of them may live out the night but most won't. Aegon has too many men and most of them are actual soldiers. I doubt we will see morning."
Sansa scoffed. "Stop being so pessimistic, Arya. You know better than that."
Arya rolled her eyes before drinking her wine again. Daenerys found her cup being filled again, finally finishing the last bite of her salad. She could not help but think about her husband again too. Arya was just being Arya, and was always stern when her courage was called into question. Dany knew she was probably as scared as the rest of them.
"What will happen if the castle should fall?" Sansa asked.
"Well I'd hope you could answer that question yourself, Sansa" Arya did not wait for her to answer. "We'd probably be stuck in here if King's Landing itself should fall, and we should be able to hold here for a time. If the men were to be killed, Daenerys, would have to go yield to Aegon in person. Hopefully Aegon will be there by the time she has to. If Maegor's Holdfast were to fall before Aegon lands onshore…than I don't know what will happen. We will be stuck in here like sitting ducks, and us women will look like cake to the soldiers after the heat of battle."
Sansa was horrified, she looked at Daenerys. "You don't think Aegon would let his men…rape us…would he?"
"I'm not sure," Dany answered, "but Aegon was never one to be cruel. Since I had him imprisoned he might have changed a bit, though. Surely, he'd ransom some of these high-born women to the houses they belong to. The women of King's Landing and the servant women won't be so lucky though, and their is naught I can do for them. I will try to defend them with all that I can, but I fear we will be lost."
"Will they try to…"
Dany cut her off before she could finish. "I'm not sure, Sansa. I don't want to fill your head with worry but I won't lie to you either. I'm sure nobody is safe if the men arrive before Aegon. Let us hope that they don't."
"What about the children?"
Dany took another sip of wine. "Hopefully, the men will be merciful towards them but who knows…a man does not think when he is in battle. Certainly Aegon would spare your children, and hopefully mine too. But…but."
Daenerys could not finish before two men-at-arms came through the door again, causing all the women to turn their heads at once. One of them was a tall man with a wild beard of black, his armor was grey with the direwolf on it. A Stark man, Dany realized. The man next to him was wearing the gold of Baratheon with the Stag upon his breastplate. He had come with the splinter force of men that came from the Stormlands. Daenerys could see the worry on their faces, as the took a knee by the her. Making sure to speak in a whisper.
"Aegon's ships have entered the rush, Your Grace," the northmen said in his husky northern voice. He was part of the retainer force that came with James when he came down to King's Landing to apologize to Daenerys for his outburst at Arya's wedding when she told him she was barren…only for it to be a lie. Dany remembered him walking into her messy room and giving her a heart-felt apology, professing his love. She tried to hold back a laugh. "Lord Lannister has began to load the wildfire pots onto the catapults, and the archers have began to knock their bows. The men-at-arms are forming a greeting party at the Mud Gate for any men who land ashore."
"And the king?"
"He is by himself on the ramparts, with the archers. His Grace insisted on watching the battle from atop so he can give direct orders, surveying the scene. The Lord Hand is with him too, as is Lord Tyrion, but Lord Gendry is down with the men-at-arms preparing to lead the men."
"Good," was all she said, "but make sure that James does not do anything foolish. I understand he must be out there for morale, but don't let him play the part of hero. He cannot die."
"Of course, Your Grace," the Baratheon man answered. "We will defend the king with our lives and make sure he does nothing stupid. You can rest assure on that."
Dany smiled at both of them, as they bowed and left the room. Servants came into the room with some crabclaw pies that had come after the salad. Then after the pies came some honeyed chicken with leeks and carrots, and some fresh bread. Daenerys and her sisters by law ate their fill and she noticed that some of the women around her had too. Most of them appeared calm by now, but some of their eyes betrayed their feelings. A Kingsguard member came into the room now and kneeled by Dany again.
"We have captured some men who were caught attempting to rape some women in Flea Bottom, Your Grace. What should we do with them?"
Dany felt her anger rising. "Have their heads cut off and mounted on the spikes as a warning. I won't have rape happening under my watch."
"As her Grace commands." He said, walking briskly out of the room.
"Bastards," Arya whispered. "I'd go do the deed myself."
Dany pretended not to her that and turned to Sansa, who was just sitting in her thoughts staring into nowhere. Daenerys felt that she needed to hear a story with a happy ending.
"Tell me a story, Sansa." Dany asked.
Startled, she turned to her. "What would you like to hear?"
Dany thought on it. "Tell me a story of Winterfell. Tell me about how James was as a boy. He has told me a little but well…you know how he is."
Sansa nodded, raising a hand to her chin. "James was six years old when I was born. As a child I remember him being a happy boy, constantly playing with Jon and Robb." She laughed, "I remember him enjoying playing the part of older brother. I can remember being only three when there was a thunderstorm outside Winterfell, and I was crying in the night. Thunder scared me…you see. I vividly recall crawling out of bed, clutching my sheets as I walked, and going into James' bed at night. He immediately stirred awake and let me crawl in, telling me stories about knights and princesses. James told me stories until I felt safe, he hugged me until I fell asleep. He was my favorite brother and I was not ashamed to admit it. Sure, I loved Bran and Rickon, Robb too but I was close to James as Arya was to Jon. James understood me and always protected me from harm. He would always take my side when I would fight with Arya, when nobody else would. I loved him and still do."
Sansa turned away from her, as she continued telling the story, "Then one day something happened," her voice wavered, "he changed. James turned from this happy boy to this angry-stoic man. He loved his family, loved all of us that was for sure, but he changed."
"In what way?"
She cleared her throat. "He became angry and distant. It happened after his fourteenth name day, I reckon. James used to tell me everything but he'd stop being the older brother. He began to push me away, spent his time in the godswood a lot, and wanted to be alone."
"What changed him?" Dany asked.
"Ros, changed him." Arya answered before she could reply. "That woman changed who he was."
The name made Daenerys cringe, the sight of that women's last cursing words constantly rang in her ear when she saw James unhappy. Gods bless you, James Stark. For after this you are truly lost.
Arya now looked at her. "Have you heard how they first met, those two?"
Dany shook her head and didn't want to know, but in the back of her mind she had always wondered. James must have told her at some point, but she didn't remember listening. It would be good to hear it from an outside perspective other than his.
"Theon Greyjoy," said Arya, "gave her to him as a 'present' on his fourteenth name day; at least that is what Jon told me. Ros was a whore in Wintertown, a small town outside of Winterfell that was primarily used for winter, and Theon was one of her customers. James was only a boy when he lost his virtue to her, the happy boy Sansa described, but he changed after meeting her. Some say it was love, but I wasn't so foolish to believe it. It was lust and nothing more. James changed for her."
"And when he was seven and ten he took the black," Sansa added. "He took the black and left Winterfell. It was on his name day that he told us, we were gathered in the Great Hall for the family feast giving him presents and such. And then he told us all as if it was not a huge deal. The man was giving up becoming the Lord of Winterfell, giving up marrying Arianne Martell, giving up having children, a family." She sighed, "And then he left us for the Wall, never looking back. Sure, he came back once a year, maybe twice if we were lucky but he kept his distance."
"It was then that I noticed he had changed for the worst," Arya continued for her. "James became very cynical and depressed. Jon was the same way from being a bastard, and my lady mother didn't make it easy on him, but he had some honor about him where James didn't. So…he began to drink heavily and womanize, I'm sure you've heard about it."
"What made him that way?" Daenerys asked, she felt bad for the man she married.
"My father, partially." Sansa told her, staring at her. "My father resented him for taking the black, for throwing his life away as he used to say. The Wall was a place for bastards, thieves, low-lives, and scum. Sure, sometimes honorable men join like my uncle Benjen, but that is very rare. Jon joined because he was a bastard, my uncle Benjen was the youngest of my father's siblings and wasn't going to inherit. But James was the eldest son, future Lord of Winterfell, and my father was furious. He still harbored the resentment until he passed, I fear."
"And then coupled with witnessing our father's death and the events that followed made him go deeper into the depression, and his anger continued to rise. Then the cynicism grew into a form of not caring when it was all said and done, and James found a new sense of honor to himself. Surely you saw that when you first met him?"
Dany nodded. "Yes, I did. James was very serious, stoic, and stern. I didn't see love in those grey eyes, they looked cold."
"But he was capable of love, as you know. He is so much like my father now." Arya said.
"And you brought him back," Sansa admitted. "He was dead and you brought him back. That is why I will always be in your debt, Dany. James learned to love again because of you, and I hope me and Jon can be the same."
After the final course of baked apples with cinnamon had been eaten and the plates removed, some of the women asked Daenerys to go to the sept to pray and she obliged them with courtesies and a a smile. The Targaryen queen had a gentle heart, she'd remembered people telling her since she was a child. That she was kind, beautiful, sweet, but hard when she needed to be and unforgiving against anyone who slighted her. Sansa wanted to go with them but Arya and Dany bid her to stay behind, telling her that her company was needed. For those that remained, a singer was brought forth to calm their nerves.
He sang beautiful stories with his harp about Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. His voice was beautiful and reduced some of the women to tears, not Dany though. The blood of the dragon does not cry so easy. Suddenly, she imagined her older brother Rhaegar behind the harp, his silver hair flying in the wind as he played his harp in the ruins of Summerhall, sleeping under the stars. Daenerys had never known him and wished she would have, but she'd heard enough stories about him from everyone around her, Ser Barristan especially. "Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded," he had told her.
Daenerys saw moisture pooling in front of Sansa's eyes, as she heard Arya scoff at her for doing so.
"Save your tears for Aegon, Sansa," she said, "you're going to need them."
She wiped them away and faced her sister. "What are you talking about?"
"We will need to be feeble-weak women if he is to be merciful with us, if the city should fall." Arya answered.
"That won't be necessary," Dany blurted. "Save your tears and your strength, Sansa. You're going to need them on the road ahead."
Dany saw her shift nervously on her cushion. "Your Grace?"
"You think I'd let you stay here if Aegon were to take the city? To be held at his mercy for gods know how long? No, that won't happen. You've suffered enough."
"What?" Sansa asked, in shock. "Dany, what are you talking about?"
Daenerys remained silent and kept her gaze to her lap, thinking of her children and husband.
"Daenerys," said Arya, firmly. Causing Dany to look at her, "what is your meaning? What do you mean?"
Dany cleared her throat, speaking in a whisper, "If the city falls half the women here will be ransomed or raped by the end of it. I can not let you two be one of them, I just can't. That is why James and I have come up with a plan for you to sneak out of the city."
The shock was on their faces. "What are you saying?"
She beckoned them closer, as they lowered their heads towards her. "There are a couple of horses and Stark men-at-arms by the Old Gate waiting for you should the city fall. You will sneak out of Maegor's Holdfast through the tunnels and make your way out there. Arya will protect you, Sansa. If they breach the Red Keep I want you to take the kids and run. Take my kids with you and go to Riverrun. Bran, has taken the Moat and is on his way there. I'll give you whatever money you need and go."
Sansa grabbed her arm. "We won't leave without you, Dany. We can't abandon the men."
"I won't allow it," Arya urged.
Daenerys pushed a strand of hair from Sansa's face. "If Aegon were to take the city, he will kill James, Jon, Gendry, and my children. He will not leave any contenders for the Iron Throne. That is why you must get out before it is too late, and run to Riverrun while Bran is still there. Raise them as if they were your own."
"But what about you?"
Dany grew stern. "I know that Aegon won't kill me. I am one of the last true Targaryens and he won't harm me. He will keep me for a wife or paramour, so we can keep the bloodlines pure."
They looked horrified, but Arya spoke first. "I won't let it happen! I will have Aegon's head before he takes you like cattle."
Daenerys grew serious. "He will kill you first, Arya. He will kill your husband, won't harm your kids, but he will kill your family. Aegon will exact revenge on anyone who has harmed him. The Starks of Winterfell have been through enough and I won't have it happen again. James will be killed, maybe Jon too, but I'm not sure what Aegon will do with him. I won't live for long, I assure you. I wouldn't be able to live without my children and James."
"Then we will get Bran to come and take it back. He will re-take King's Landing with the Tullys."
Dany laughed. "And to what end, Arya? Aegon will surely force me to call the dragons and he will use them against you if you do that, and his mercy has limits. Your brother would be slaughtered."
"I still won't leave you!" Arya insisted, her stubbornness reminded her of James. Those two were so alike and it was why they often argued.
Before Daenerys could speak again, the doors to her ballroom flew open as all the women turned their heads at once. She heard a scream or two, a figure had walked through the doors clad in armor that was clanking with each step. When he stepped into the light, Daenerys saw that it was her nephew, Jon. He was clad in black armor, head-to-toe, that reminded her of what Rhaegar would've looked like on the Trident, but his armor was unscathed. His hair was sweaty and he had a few scratches upon his face, along with his long unkempt hair and black beard.
"Jon!" Sansa squealed, running from her cushion to throw herself into his arms. She didn't seem to care that her dress would be ruined with mud, sweat, and blood. Arya and Daenerys glanced at each other before getting up from their seats to walk over to Jon. The women were watching them, but Jon assured them that everything was alright. That their men were fighting bravely.
"Why are you here?" Dany asked him. "Shouldn't you be out there with James and his men?"
He looked at her. "James sent me here personally to look after you. To make sure that you guys went through with the plan of escape."
"We aren't going!" Arya yelled. "We won't leave Dany to her fate, and our men too."
Jon sighed. "James told me to come here and force you to leave, Dany with you. And the kids too."
"No!" Dany yelled, "That was not the plan. I won't leave him!"
Jon spoke to her in a whisper. "What would you living in torment do? What else do you have to live for besides your children if James were to be killed? He no doubt will be if Aegon takes the city, Gendry too, and myself if I didn't choose to come back here. He wants you to run away and raise the children in Winterfell with his family. So I am here to make sure you do that."
Arya pouted. "We aren't-"
"-Oh let it be done, Arya!" Jon yelled, his anger rising. Dany could tell he was frustrated because his thoughts must've been out there too. "You are coming with me, Sansa, the kids, and Dany! We will make for Riverrun if the city falls."
Everything was silent, as Dany spoke first, "How is the battle going?"
Jon sighed. "Tyrion has ignited the Rush with the wildfire. Some of Aegon's ships are now burning in the river. However, Aegon has managed to land some men upon the tourney grounds, and there's more coming across. The Mud Gate's under attack, and they've brought a ram to that and the King's Gate. Gendry and Tyrion have gone out to drive them off."
"And James?"
"He is still on the ramparts with the men," Jon answered. "Last I saw of him he was preparing the men-at-arms and archers for siege ladders coming up the middle. James also sent some Gold Cloaks with Targaryen men-at-arms towards the Kings Gate."
"Then it has already began," said Arya, "let us hope that they can win. And that we hope to see the next morning."
Daenerys sighed and took her seat back on the high chair, with Sansa and Arya sitting beside them. Jon took off his breastplate and threw it on the floor with a clang, revealing a black tunic underneath. He kept his sword belt on, but took a seat by Sansa. Both were talking to each other and consoling, as Dany kept to herself and thought of James. Images of her husband fighting on the ramparts filled her mind, and sometimes the image of him being hit by an arrow or stabbed would come up at the end. Her strength wavered at last and she felt a tear roll down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.
Arya took her hand. "James will be ok, Dany. Gendry will be too, and Tyrion as well. We will win this."
"I certainly hope so," Dany replied, "for if they don't. We are lost."
Daenerys Targaryen then thought of the house with the red door that she lost so long ago.