Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it really does mean a lot. Apologies for the delay in getting this updated (a house move in real life). Things are back to normal now, though.
I'd also like to apologise for the slight error in the last chapter. Lyanna Mormont is Alysane's sister, not her daughter. That's now rectified and thanks to the reviewer who pointed that out.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Plan
As those seated at the high table fell into a contemplative silence the noise of the feasting crowds rose higher in Catelyn's ears. Near a thousand voices all chattering in unison, vying with the musicians for predominance - it was all she could hear. Meanwhile, Mace still looked half in a dream; Olenna was keeping her thoughts and opinions firmly under her wimple and Lady Alerie was discreetly conferring with her daughter. Margaery looked at Cat, their gaze meeting and the young lady smiled approvingly. Any moment now, the tables would be pushed aside to make way for the dances and they would have no chance at all at a normal discussion. Realising the impending problem, Lord Ashford himself suggested they reconvene in his private solar. A suggestion met with the approval of the Tyrells and the relief of the Starks.
As they rose from their seats, the hall stuttered into silence followed by the scraping of benches against wooden floors as everyone else rose. A mark of deference to their lord and lady. But it was Margaery who addressed them, with Lady Olenna looking on and smiling her approval.
"My Lords, please continue in our absence," her voice rang out clearly. "And forgive us our premature departure. We have matters of great import to discuss before this evening is done."
With that, the Tyrells and Lady Stark departed through a side door that led out into a gallery. There were guards posted at regular intervals along the walls, still and austere as statues. Their passive, but all seeing, eyes seemed to follow Cat and Ser Rodrik as they passed, causing her to shrink away. Their presence also ruled out all conversation more controversial than the weather. Or so Catelyn assumed.
"Lady Stark," a small hand squeezed at her elbow. When she turned, Lady Alerie was falling into step with her. "I wonder if you and I may have a moment."
"Of course, my lady," she replied, curiously. Catelyn stopped in her tracks with the other woman, letting the others go on ahead. The guards would escort them the rest of the way if they got lost. "Is everything quite all right?"
Alerie was smiling, but blushing red to the roots of her hair. Suddenly, she seemed skittish and nervous.
"Dear me, even after all these years it shames me to speak of this," Lady Alerie gave an awkward laugh, unable to look Catelyn in the eye her gaze eventually settled on an overhead chandelier. "My sister, Lynesse, wrote to me some time ago. She told me you were one of the few people in the North who went to some effort to make her feel welcome and at home there. Now that I have a greater understanding of how low she was on Bear Island, I think perhaps your friendship stopped her from doing something silly. Or rather, your friendship stopped her doing something silly a lot sooner."
Catelyn recalled the wife of Jorah Mormont. In an effort to salvage his marriage, the now exiled knight had brought his Lady to Winterfell. Cat, as a fellow southerner, had offered her advice and tips on how to survive the rugged north. But where Cat had flourished, Lynesse had found herself overwhelmed and alienated. It had been too little too late. Now that she thought on it again, she thought it madness that Lord Hightower had permitted that folly of a marriage in the first place. However, she kept her opinions on Lord Hightower to herself as she took Alerie's hands in her own.
"There is no shame in being lost and alone in a strange land," Cat assured her. "Allow me to confess I never, not in all my years of marriage to Lord Stark, ever truly felt at home in the North. Their ways are so different to ours; I was never truly one of them. But since Eddard's death I have come realise I was wrong. They are a proud and independent people, qualities I had not fully realised until they were put to the test they find themselves in now. No one can blame Lynesse for what happened."
At last, Lady Alerie looked her in the eye again. "Thank you, Lady Stark. I always imagined those Northern lords thinking her a silly and flighty girl. She wasn't really like that."
That was exactly how the Northern Lords saw her, but again Catelyn kept that to herself. "The shame belongs only to Ser Jorah. He took that decision to sell slaves, not your sister. Do you mind my asking where they are now? You have my word that I have no interest in dragging them back. I am just curious and I did like your sister."
A sadness filled her honey coloured eyes. Eyes so like Margaery's. "She is no longer with her husband. She is little more than a concubine to some wealthy merchant prince in Lys. He goes by the name Tregar Ormollen. In fact, father cannot bear to hear of her. The last I heard of Jorah he was a sell sword before taking up with a pack of Dothraki savages."
Something snagged in her chest. "The Dothraki?"
Lady Alerie frowned, a look of contempt marring her fair features. "Whether that's true or whether my sister exaggerated, I cannot say."
Daenerys Targaryen wed a Dothraki horse lord, she thought to herself. King Robert had threatened to hire an assassin to slay any infant born of the union, causing Ned such anger he resigned as Hand of the King and hired a ship to sail home. He had sent Maester Luwin a raven, forewarning his premature return. If only he had set sail, she thought to herself with great sadness. It was all she could do not to curse the memory of Robert Baratheon. Ned's brother in all but blood had talked him out of his return. How and why she did not know.
Cat concluded her discussion with Lady Alerie with a courteous thank you. Already the others had disappeared into Lord Ashford's solar and they needed to catch up fast.
"If there's anything I can ever do for you, Lady Stark, then I will try my best," said Alerie as they walked on. She smiled as she added, "Especially if the result of it is that our houses will be joined together."
Catelyn matched her smile. "That would please me greatly, also." The first names that sprang into her head were Sansa and Wylas. The thought alone bringing great satisfaction to her.
Lord Ashford's solar was a small but beautifully furnished room. Soon after arriving there, Catelyn found herself being lodged in a chair so plump with cushions she thought it might swallow her. Directly ahead of her, a large bay window looked out over the Cockleswhent River as it meandered into the distance over fertile fields, fat with harvest. At that time of night, however, it all looked black beneath the canopy of stars overhead. Although the Maesters of the Citadel had sent out ravens proclaiming the end of summer some time ago, it seemed the Reach had yet to catch up. It was so warm the terrace doors were open to tempt in the evening breeze, causing the fine net drapes to swell like silent ghosts on the current.
Such was the nature of their discussions that the guards on the door – Ser Rodrik Cassel among them – where left with strict instructions to admit nobody. Not even servants. As such, they were left to procure their own drinks before they began. Mace Tyrell looked from his full bottle to his empty glass as though it were some sort of conundrum. Luckily, Margaery laughed sweetly and poured the Arbour wine for him. She was a kind girl, Catelyn noted. Politically astute, clever, but gentle and caring with it. Everything that Cersei Lannister should be, but could never hope to be. She would make an excellent Queen.
Lady Olenna was seated on a long bench upholstered with silk and satin. To her right was her son; to her left was Margaery. Lord Ashford and Lady Alerie took up position behind them. All looked to Catelyn expectantly. Unsurprisingly, it was the elderly matriarch who broke the silence.
"Well, Lady Stark, the time for hypothetical talking has been and gone. What passes between us here is the truth and the whole truth. You have our word that none of that which passes between us shall ever be used against you," she assured. "If we're to do business you must be frank with us."
Then, she looked sidelong at Mace to give his word. "Just so," he stated. "You have our word entirely. Please, tell us about Rhaegar's son and heir. We must know everything."
And so she did. From the beginning, at the Tourney of Harrenhal to the Tower of Joy. Moving on to the discovery of Lyanna Stark dying with a newborn babe in her arms. She explained Lord Eddard's cover story, concocted with the help of Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. A valuable witness still living. After all that, she had to explain how Ned finally told her the truth. Of how Jon was taken by Roose Bolton for reasons they, at first, could not fathom and fear alone drove Ned to bring her in on the secret. How Barbrey Dustin's involvement led to even greater complications and how both she and Roose ended up dead in the wake of the abduction. It was a long and complicated story that Cat couldn't even abbreviate for simplicity's sake. All the same, her audience listened with rapt attention as she finished her story by explaining how Lyanna's wedding cloak and Rhaegar's silver harp were buried in the crypts below Winterfell.
As she finished, another silence settled in which everyone seemed to draw breath. Lord Ashford spoke again, rounding the bench to be nearer to Catelyn. "Although we see how this came to pass, we lack for proof. It is all very well us believing Jon to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, but what about the other noble houses. Not to mention the realm at large!"
Catelyn had prepared for and dreaded this moment in equal measure. She had little to offer. However, what little she had she liked to think was poignantly significant.
"I said there was one living witness to Jon's birth," she reiterated. "But there's one other who can offer further evidence. Maester Aemon Targaryen, now of Castle Black. Eddard and I thought it would be good for Jon to meet his last surviving Targaryen relation in the whole of Westeros, so we sent him there with his other uncle, Benjen. He is a ranger in the Night's Watch, you see and he also knows about Lyanna's absconding with Rhaegar, as it happens. Anyway, Aemon already knew of Jon's birth. He was able to show Jon letters Lyanna and Rhaegar sent to Castle Black during her pregnancy. They were meant to call him Jaeherys. Rhaegar refers to Jon as the Prince that was Promised. The third head of the dragon – whatever that means."
Mace Tyrell sat up abruptly. "Rhaegar was always talking about that prophesy. I remember, he was unwilling to have Elia endure another pregnancy, but he needed the third head of the dragon. His would be the song of ice and fire. The fire of the dragon; the ice of the north. Of course it makes sense now, -"
"What utter piffle!" Olenna cut in, acidly. "Prophesy makes sense if you're a silver-haired dreamer with one head up your arse, a second in the clouds and a third in a jar of wildfire."
Catelyn had to agree. "Oh, stuff and nonsense I am sure. But it's all talk relating to Jon. Rhaegar himself set great store by the boy and Aemon backed that up completely. I read those letters myself before circumstances compelled me to leave Winterfell."
"Now, that I agree with and it'll help convince the superstitious and the ignorant teeming in the streets of King's Landing," Olenna concurred. "But, we must send someone to Castle Black post haste. Someone we can trust, who can act as a reliable witness and hear the man's testimony. Gods, he must have a hundred names days on him by now. There's not a moment to lose."
"Yes," Catelyn agreed. "Immediately. A scribe and a guard, too. As well as witnesses. We also have the letters as evidence. And, also …. We have Dark Sister."
Her revelation was met with stunned silence. All of them turned suddenly to face her, breaths hitching in various throats.
"The lost ancestral sword?" Mace asked, seeking clarification. "The boy now wields that same Dark Sister?"
Cat nodded, letting the significance sink in slowly.
"But how? It's been lost for aeons!" Ashford cut in.
"The last known person to carry Dark Sister was Brynden Rivers-" she began.
But Mace Tyrell finished the sentence. "Who escorted Aemon Targaryen north to the Wall. Of course!"
She was glad she didn't have to do all his thinking for him. "And he hid the sword in an ancient godswood not far north of the Wall. It had been there so long it had become part of the tree. But Jon's polished it to a good shine. And Valyrian Steel never loses its edge."
"Its edge will be tested before long, Lady Stark," Mace Tyrell stated. "But when that time comes, Tyrell swords will be there to help."
Relief washed over Catelyn in a wave. Unable to hide her smile, she beamed from ear to ear for just a second, before turning serious again.
"Now, to the real business," she said. "What will our next move be?"
"My Lady," said Mace, turning to Alerie. "Summon Garlan and Loras. It is time they knew. While we await their arrival, I suggest we clear our heads with a short walk in the gardens."
That was a suggestion Catelyn agreed with wholeheartedly. It was late and she had had a fair amount of Arbour wine. The cooling night air would be just the thing to revive her dulling senses. There were stone steps that led down from the solar terrace, straight into manicured gardens. While they had been deep in talk, servants had been outside and lit torches along a beaten earth driveway used by carriages. But the rear gardens were out of the way of the main army encamped all around them. The air was clear and the atmosphere relatively peaceful. The din of the troops reached them only in distant waves, muffled as they were by large curtain walls that encircled the gardens.
As she strolled among the flowerbeds of red and white roses, Catelyn noted Margaery falling into step with her. For a moment, they walked in silence and took in the gardens. Although only dimly lit by the flickering torches, they could make out the colours and shapes of their surroundings. They could breathe in the balmy air, heavy with the scent of flora and fauna. It was like nectar to Catelyn's senses after so long on dusty roads, riding with sweaty men and sweatier horses.
"I hope I'm not intruding, Lady Stark," said Margaery, sotto voce.
Cat smiled. "Not at all, my lady."
She smiled, casting her golden eyes downwards demurely. "I was wondering, what is Jon like? Do you think I would please him?"
Catelyn felt herself softening considerably. Beneath that cool exterior of political shrewdness and diplomatic prowess, Margaery had insecurities the same as other young woman. Why did women always worry about whether or not they pleased their potential husbands? Surely, women should be more concerned as to whether these men pleased them or not. Before she could answer, Margaery spoke again.
"Is he similar to King Robb?"
The younger woman looked her in the eye now. As Cat suspected, she had developed real feelings for her son. Now, at the last minute, she was instead being given to a stranger everyone believed a bastard of no import, until recently. Cat had to be honest.
"Not really. He is a Stark in looks, down to the last hair on his head. His mother, Lady Lyanna, was a great beauty. He is a shy young man, inclined to be very sombre. I think someone like you could bring him out of himself and gently teach him to enjoy life. It will take time, but you two could complement each other very nicely, I think."
Even though Catelyn believed this was not what Margaery wanted to hear, the girl let out a deep breath of relief. By the light of the torch, she could see her smile too. "You must think me shallow and foolish, Lady Stark, but I am human and curious."
"Not at all, Margaery. It's only natural." Catelyn reassured her by placing one comforting hand on her shoulder. "But I think you rather liked Robb, didn't you?"
Margaery lowered her head again, hiding her face. "Was it that obvious?"
"The sad thing is, I strongly suspect Robb felt the same about you," replied Catelyn, tilting the girl's chin up. "Don't be sad. Meet Jon and get to know him. You may find him a pleasant young man."
When Margaery met Catelyn's eyes again, she had her diplomatic mask back in place. "Even so, marriage is a pact to secure the futures of our families. Sometimes, even the realm as a whole. We must all do our duty."
Her sentiments were like an echo of Cat's own voice from years ago, when she was betrothed to Brandon Stark. Duty, duty, duty. She raised a sad smile. "I did my duty, too. It was the best decision I ever made." She thought again of the love she had for Ned. A love she would carry until she was cold in her grave. A love made piercingly acute since his own untimely death. "I pray it will be best decision you ever make, too."
"I will make it so," Margaery assured her. She cast a quick glance left and right. "The others have returned. We should, too."
She was right. But they continued talking as they meandered back, in no hurry despite the lateness of the hour. Their little chat seemed to have perked Margaery back up again and she was all smiles.
"You were so kind to take in another woman's son," she remarked. "Many women would have left him out for the bears to finish off. Or rather, I imagine it is wolves in the north."
Regret came gnawing at Cat's heart like an old rat. "I'm sad to say I was not always kind to the boy. For most of his life I tolerated his presence, and no more than that."
Was that why she worked so hard for Jon now? To compensate for the years of misery. Was it guilt that motivated her? She could not say, but deep in her heart, she knew it was true.
Margaery glanced at her and smiled. "You were still kinder than most, just by giving him space in your halls."
Catelyn appreciated her effort.
Once they had returned to the solar, two handsome young men had joined their ranks. Both were unmistakably Tyrells. One Catelyn knew was Loras, meaning the other had to be Garlan. Only briefly did they glance at Catelyn before kissing her hand as courtesy dictated. They then moved to hover protectively over their younger sister. It was Lady Alerie who made the formal introductions. With that out of the way, it was straight back to business.
A table that was previously shoved against a wall had been pulled to the center of the solar. On it, a large map of Westeros was unrolled and weighted down with carved figurines of stone and wood.
"Tomorrow, I say we ride for Bitterbridge and reconvene there," Loras stated.
His brother agreed. "But we must avoid the Roseroad; it will lead us too close to King's Landing. I suggest we make for the Stony Sept."
Garlan traced the dotted lines on the map with one gauntleted finger. Catelyn tracked his progress, seeing the sense in his directions.
"It's close to Lannister lands," she pointed out. "But not too close, having said that. And, if we head for Pinkmaiden, we will be on direct route to Riverrun. We even avoid Harrenhal if we just follow the Red Fork River."
Margaery nodded her approval, stepping closer to the map. "Surely Tywin Lannister has left Harrenhal by now? He was only there in the first place to check the progress of the Northern host, but now he is needed in the capital."
"We were mistaken, sister," replied Garlan. "Following the murder of Renly, we assumed Ser Cortnay Penrose would yield Storm's End to Stannis. What other choice did he have? But he has not."
"What?" Catelyn gasped. This was madness, but it bought them all more time.
Garlan shrugged, causing his scales of his armour to creak. "He has Edric Storm in there. One of Robert's bastards."
Catelyn remembered then. A child begotten on a highborn Lady of House Florent. Stannis had taken Selyse to their marriage bed, only to find Robert and his wench in there pumping the future Edric into her belly. It had done little to improve relations between the brothers. However, it was because of the mother's rank that Robert was forced to recognise the consequential infant.
"So is Stannis laying siege to Storm's End?" asked Olenna. "He could be at that for some time to come."
"It's impregnable!" Loras guffawed. "What is that fool playing at?"
"Who knows, but it gives us breathing space just as it keeps the Lannister's attention divided," Olenna remarked. "The sooner we join the northern host at Riverrun the better. Lady Stark, we must take Harrenhal, however. When we join you there will be no room at Riverrun for all of us."
"Just so," said Mace. "The sooner we dislodge Tywin Lannister the better."
Suddenly troubled by memories of the night Renly was murdered, Catelyn shivered and stood back from the others. Instinctively, she looked to the only other person who had been there and currently present in that solar.
"I would not bank on Ser Cortnay's defiance," she spoke to the room at large. "Lady Margaery and I saw what killed Renly and it could be coming for him next."
"She's right," Margaery stated. "But we whatever that really was, we must take full advantage of the time we have. This siege will not last forever."
The rest agreed. Just as they agreed to retire for the remainder of the night. Come first light they would begin the long march to Bitterbridge.
To her surprise, Catelyn slept. The surprise almost woke her up again, but the irony was deprived her. She slept as the realm slept. Restless and shallow, but sleep all the same. Leagues away, Sansa slept beneath the austere crenels and merlons of the Red Keep. Her dreams took wing like the little bird she was. Taking her north against the gushing flow of the Blackwater Rush, beyond Harrenhal to the Trident and the rocky road back home. In Harrenhal itself, an army seethed against enforced inactivity, scowling at the scarlet banners and golden lions. Deep in the cavernous cellars a little mouse who currently answered to name "Weasel" stirred, afraid and alone. The mouse did not sleep. She murmured a list of names under her shallow breath, and tried to weep for a family she believed she would never see again. But no tears came; only anger kept her going. I am a wolf, the mouse thought. Alas, she remembered she was only a mouse now. A remembrance that snuffed out her last remaining spark of defiance.
Farther to the west, a castle did not sleep. Its occupants raged and stormed against a tide of misfortune. High Lords gathered around a large wooden table in the great hall of Riverrun. At their head, the still eye of the storm rose to his feet and raised a gauntleted hand.
"Enough," he said. "Enough."
Jon had never taken command before. But with everyone else losing their heads and Robb blaming himself, it was now or never.
"We have already heard the advice of Lords Glover, Manderly, Umber, Karstark and Mallister. Here is what I suggest we do…"
Come first light they were to march back north, leaving the Tully's to man Riverrun. Moat Cailin was already garrisoned and well protected. So one section would march to Seaguard with Patrek Mallister and the Manderlys to form a blockade at sea, preventing the Ironborn retreat. The Glovers would march to Deepwood Motte to protect their home and people. He, Jon, would go with them. Robb was to ride as far as Torrhen's Square and prevent the Ironborn fleeing on land. He would go as far back as Winterfell, if need be, and smash the bastards onto the curtain walls of their home. The Karstarks and Umbers would go with them.
Once he had finished setting out his plan, Jon sat back down again. His mouth was dry with nerves, his hands shaking so he hid them beneath the table. To his shock, no one protested. Already the men, high lords themselves no less, got up to rouse their hosts. There was no more time to lose on arguing and recrimination. Suddenly, he felt proud of himself for having taken the lead. A small, fleeting thing he indulged for only a second.
When first light came, the portcullis of Riverrun cranked upwards and the drawbridge fell. Revealed behind the latticed rust was an army of thousands, riding out to a war in the north. Robb and Jon at the head, their lords filed out behind them. They glanced at each other, nodded and began the forwards advance.
Thank you again for reading. A review would be lovely if you have a minute.
Again, apologies for the delay in getting this updated. I'm optimistic that real life has now settled again.