Catelyn Tully Stark

On route from the Northern Camp to Bitterbridge, 300AC

It was strange, riding through fields and small towns instead of large towns and following roads. It was something one had to somewhat get accustomed to with living in the North because even if one followed a road, more often than nought, said road was covered in a thick layer of snow. Even in summer, something that baffled many south of the Neck. Some Kingdom's never even experienced snow and even fewer had experience with said terrain.

Which gave Catelyn an advantage. As it meant any other tricky terrain was simple to navigate in comparison. Jaeron had ordered her to ride hard and fast for Bitterbridge because there was a relatively high chance that she would miss the Baratheon brothers. Her nephew confirming he was going to have one of the wargs cause a distraction by dropping off some falsified letters, but time was running out. If she was early it would work in her favour because then she could assess Renly and hopefully catch some gossip from the armies about next moves they could use to their advantage. If she was on time, she'd be able to get a measure of both. But if she was late then it meant she'd need to pick and choose which one to go after.

The one with more military experience and a renowned commander? Or the one with the largest army and the backing of the Tyrell's?

She knew what one she was leaning more towards, but Jaeron was correct in taking in both of them. Suddenly remembering that technically they were cousins. Granted, distantly, but cousins. Stannis' and Renly's grandmother was Jaeron's great grandparents younger sister. Whether the other claimants would see it as such was difficult. Robert didn't care, had even been the one to knock Rhaegar off his horse with his spiked warhammer into the waters of the Trident, scattering rubies everywhere for those who were less fortunate to scavenge for during the chaos that erupted afterwards.

Her mare began panting now, slipping off its back and letting her drink from a nearby stream, looking around to try and figure out where she was. It had been three days since she had left the camp at Oxcross which was slowly working its way further into the Westerland's. Not enough to be near anywhere, but enough that if any armies were sent their way they wouldn't find them straight away. Wondering if Jaeron had been successful in getting House Lefford to at the least remain neutral. Knowing Lord Leo, he was likely trying to wriggle his daughter her nephews way. Humming quietly as she thought on this, that wouldn't be a terrible match actually. If Tywin weren't the Lord Paramount of said Kingdom she might've even suggested it herself. If she had to guess, she was currently southeast of Silverhill. It had been a long time since Catelyn had last visited Bitterbridge, but she was not going for her own good. Remembering the King's words.

"If they are already aware of me, do not deny it. But if they are not, do not reveal it until after they parlay. Then run it by both individually by asking if they would step aside for a Targaryen."

A dangerous game, especially considering her own House had rose up against the Targaryen's. Whilst it had been out of duty and honour to family, it had been done. Many rulers would've stripped a House for such a thing, which set her nephew apart. It would help in getting more allies to his side, because it made him appear merciful and willing to forgive slights against his own House. She didn't stop for long though, mounting her mare again and galloping hard into the Reach. Her thighs screaming at her for doing so and she knew that when she finally did stop for an extended period of time she was going to find bloodied sores in between her thighs alongside a few blisters to burst.

There's no gain without a lot of pain. A saying her father used to say to her when she was little. The first time she had found the truth of this was when she laboured with Robb. She'd been bound to her bed for the last month of her first pregnancy which irritated her massively, not liking remaining stationary. Even now, she had never experienced a pain as such. Not even with the other children. It took another four days before she came to the town she was intended for, not yet getting off her mare and asking where the main camp was as she had come with urgent news for King Renly. Being pointed to the outskirts and heading that way. It wasn't difficult to find out where they were, seeing the numerous sigils of the Reach House's and the massive army. Gulping a little to herself.

Remember dear niece, numbers do not always win battles.

Her uncle's words he had spoken just before she had ridden here echoing in her mind like a catchy tune sang at a feast. Hiding her trepidation as much as she possibly could and riding towards the guards and introducing herself. Neither were wearing sigils which confirmed they were likely lowborn given an opportunity they had grasped like a starving child for food. Eyes widening momentarily before speaking to someone behind them who was wearing the golden rose on his chest of House Tyrell. Stating to let her through and to send for someone to tend to her horse.

The moment her feet touched the ground, a shooting pain made its way into her legs. It had been a while since she had last ridden such a distance in such little time. Even when she had ridden to the Eyrie to confront her sister for seizing Lord Tyrion she had docked in Maidenpool first. Not understanding how people could ride atop a horse for weeks at a time and a small shred of respect coming onto her for said people. Now understanding why Queen Cersei made it known she would only travel in her wheelhouse. Just the thought of the woman made her insides boil, especially remembering her lingering stare towards her eldest daughter like she was prey.

Wherever Sansa was, she hoped she was safe. Or at the least, not with someone who would rip her apart until her gentle nature was replaced with hardened steel. Of course, she wasn't going to remain a naïve little girl forever, but Catelyn wanted her to have some semblance of normalcy before she would need to learn the art of political movements. Jaeron had learned quick enough. Whilst not wholly adept, considering he had known next to nothing of such a thing a little over a year ago it was surprising. The only thing that was still up in air was betrothals.

It was a bitter pill to swallow to accept a Frey for her eldest. A first son of a great House should be with someone else of a great House. It was an insult at best, but they needed the bridge and the extra men. Perhaps they could break it some way further down the line, but that was far away from now. Her eldest's suggestion of Sansa being tied to one of the Martell Prince's was decent, but thanks to her nephew having the gall to threaten Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn that was unlikely. Then an idea struck her. She was heading into a field of prickly roses, but there was two sons. Yes, that could work. Whilst it would tie Jaeron to Renly somewhat, it would further tie hands for people.

She didn't have much time to think on it before she was taken to a tent that appeared to be unoccupied, the guard stating he would send for the King and Queen immediately. Which gave her time to think over what she was going to say. For some reason, she was more nervous for this than she was when she had confronted Varys. Which in itself was saying something. She wasn't waiting for long before two people walked in with a few guards who immediately circled them all, not missing her watchful gaze all had their hands on the hilts of their swords should the need arise.

First, she took in Renly, a laugh beginning to bubble up but keeping it down. He certainly looked like Robert when he was younger, no one could deny that. Armour freshly polished and not a single nick on the metal confirming he either hadn't worn it in battle or he had not partaken in battle yet. Deep green and yellow designs etched into crushed velvet covering the metal. An odd thing to see now, having seeing nought but leather covering armour to deal with the cold. Sword dangling at his hip too and an incredibly intricate crown atop his brow which seemed too heavy for him given the creasing in his forehead. He looked like a boy playing King, but that was something she not going to say aloud.

Eyes instead trailing to his Queen and having to fight her eyes widening. It was a known fact that Margaery Tyrell was a beautiful young maiden, gossip as such was spread openly. But Catelyn felt like she was perhaps looking at one of the most beautiful woman she had ever laid her eyes on. Small face in a heart shape, not a single blemish on her skin, dark brown hair intricately braided from her face and tied at the nape of her neck. Wearing a green and gold dress with a scantily plunged neckline which left little to the imagination.

"Guards, please leave us be."

What? Why would he command such a thing? He didn't know her, nor did he know why she had come, something that the other female noticed too if the slight dart of her eyes was anything to go by. Yet she didn't voice her concerns, being tied to her oath of remaining loyal to her husband. She'd been brought up with such beliefs herself, but Ned always made it known she was aloud to voice her concerns. For the first couple of years of their marriage she had been timid to do so, but when she opened up no one was safe from her venomous tongue. It felt freeing almost, being able to speak her mind.

"Lady Catelyn, what brings you to my camp?"

Catelyn curtsied lightly as custom dictated.

"My son sent me your Grace, to discuss certain matters that are best done so in person and not over raven. Any raven can be intercepted after all."

Renly let out a bark of laughter at this, clearly finding her words funny. A guard coming in again with a small tray of salt and bread and all parties partaking as per guest rights tradition. Calmness overcoming her as it meant she would not be harmed so long as she was in this camp.

"Let us walk, my Lady. And we can discuss these matters in more detail. My Queen, you may leave us."

Margaery bowed her head in submission before leaving the tent, her own feet following the young male. Gods, that crown looked ridiculous atop his head. Jaeron's were simple. Even Rhaegar's crown was nowhere near as ornate as this one. Nor was Aegon the Conqueror's. That was the one he had eventually decided he was going to wear for official purposes, the signal that gave only further solidifying the claim. She'd asked Arthur about it, him confirming he was certain it had gotten to him through some intervention of Princess Elia. Whether that was true there was no way to know now.

"I assume your son is looking to ally to tie us together, would I be correct in such a thing?"

No, he wasn't. But she had to play it in a way that would have him confirm if he did know about Jaeron yet.

"Not entirely, your Grace. My son is weighing his options but as he is currently fighting in the Westerland's to try and lure Lord Tywin out of Harrenhal, he could not come himself."

"Last I was aware your aunt was Lady of Harrenhal."

"My aunt stepped aside and allowed the Old Lion to use it as a base. As for her sons, I have heard nothing about them I'm afraid."

Even now, despite knowing for weeks what Shella had done, her blood boiled. So much for their words of a colony of blind brings sight. Her aunt had alienated herself, and if Ser Oswell hadn't fallen outside the Tower of Joy, she didn't doubt he would've immediately went there and rooted out Tywin himself. Even if his vows tied him from doing so, he would've found a way. As for her Whent cousins, she knew all had been put to the sword. Which meant said castle was free to be given had someone not already gotten there first.

"When I take Kings Landing, I will bring you Joffrey's head. Of that I promise you, my Lady."

"You are most kind, your Grace."

If he took Kings Landing, she thought to herself. The North had been fighting for weeks, had already fought three battles and potentially more in her temporary absence considering Robb and Jaeron were venturing further into the Lion's Den. At least they had Rhaegon and Lyrax if things got bad which was a strong possibility.

"And when do you plan on marching on the capital?"

"Within the next turn of the moon."

Gods, what an idiot. Not that Catelyn could say so aloud as that would end in her head being removed from her shoulders. Even if she hadn't been trained in the acts of war, it was a dumb move to give away movements and time frames for said movements. At least it was something she could use though for when she heads back north. Did she dare prodding further?

"It will bring myself and my children great pleasure that their father be avenged. If I may be so bold, how do you plan on taking the capital?"

Renly laughed aloud at her words.

"My Lady, I know nought what game you are playing but a man does not reveal his war strategies."

Nay, but some did reveal their moves, biting her tongue to prevent the words from leaving her mouth. She really had become more Northern in some regards compared to Southron. A loose tongue being one of those changes. Perhaps Ned was right, she was becoming like his people. Even if she denied it. She was a follower of the Seven, not a follower of the Old Gods. The Godswood still set her on edge, misliking the way that the carved faces felt like they were staring right through her as if she were invisible.

"Pardon me for my rudeness, your Grace. It appears I have adapted to my husbands Kingdom's ways. Northerner's don't dance around people with pretty words, they will say it as is. But I must query something. My husband sent out ravens declaring your brother Stannis as the true heir. And he is also pressing on the claim is he not?"

"Stannis has as much charisma as a man with a stick shoved up his arse."

That may be so, but he was still an heir. Not only an heir, but an heir further ahead in line than the young man walking alongside her. She wasn't going to insult him because he was a man grown, but his eyes still glimmered with a boyish desire. Something Robb had before he had taken his first life. Something Jaeron also had. Whether it was the same for him, it was difficult to say as she did not know the man.

"The laws of inheritance are clear- "

"Are they, my Lady? If so, why was Viserys Targaryen not named King when the Mad King fell?"

Damnit, he'd gotten her there. And she couldn't say the real reason why this was the case. Remembering words Maester Luwin spoke that there were rumours that the other male Targaryen had been crowned by his mother on Dragonstone but there were no records to confirm with certainty.

"Viserys Targaryen was a boy of eight name-days, Daenerys Targaryen still being in Queen Rhaella's womb. But your eldest brother did depose said House. In this case, your other brother would still be heir would he not?"

She was treading on dangerous ground now, that much was obvious. Perhaps she had poked a little more than she had intended to, but the damage had been done now.

"My brother is not well liked, my Lady- "

"Your Grace, the duals of the tourney are due to start shortly."

A tourney? In the midst of a war? Cursing silently to herself at not getting an answer because of the interruption. Renly making his way towards his army where she noticed there was a clearing set up, eyeing all of the banners there were. Noticing one she hadn't seen before but it wasn't difficult to figure out what it signified. A golden stag on a green field. Likely an ode to his wife's House colours. Taking his place at the top of a raised area with Margaery sitting beside him. If she were here, it meant her father was likely here. A man she wanted to speak to. If a betrothal could be agreed it would unknowingly tie House Tyrell and by extension much of the Reach to her nephew.

"You should kneel before a King."

"There is no need for that, Lady Brienne. Lady Catelyn is here to discuss an alliance for her son."

Catelyn turned her head to face who had spoken, eyes widening at seeing a woman taller than even Brandon had been which in itself was saying something. Pale blonde hair cut short like a boys and with gleaming armour and a deep blue cape attached to her shoulders. Only noticing now those standing alongside her also wearing cloaks of varying shades. One in particular causing her to quirk an eyebrow. Ser Robar Royce. As far as she was aware, his House was remaining neutral in the wars.

"I do not sit on my sons war council, your Grace. Even if I did, I would not share his strategies with you."

"If Robb Stark wants a pact with us he should come himself instead of hiding behind his mother's skirts- "

Turning to face who had spoken and immediately seeing the sigil on his chest. This must be Ser Loras Tyrell. Wearing armour that also had not a single nick on it and a cloak in the colours of the rainbow.

"My son is fighting a war, Ser. Not playing at one."

The Knight's face soured at her remark, and a lot of muttering broke out from it. Suddenly remembering where she was and looking back to Renly sheepishly for having insulted his goodbrother. Surprise blossoming in her that he had a small smile adorning his face in amusement, clearly enjoying the byplay. His wife on the other hand had eyes trained on her. Whilst her face was the picture of utmost poise, her gaze was furious.

"Don't worry, my Lady. The war is just beginning."

Nay, it had started long before. Even if many had taken steps to try and hold it off.

"I have one hundred thousand men at my command. All the might of the Stormland's and the Reach."

"Are all of them young and bold like your Knight of Flowers? It is a game to you, isn't it? I pity them?"

"Why?"

At least he didn't take insult to the comment. Many would've.

"Because it won't last. They are Knight's of summer and Winter is Coming."

"Brienne, please escort Lady Catelyn to a tent, she is tired from her journey."

There it was, she'd finally gotten to the end of his patience. Now, her order had been fulfilled on one aspect. Renly Baratheon was nowhere near as brash as Robert, did not have a plan in the war other than marching straight for the capital, and an ego boosted by the large army he had surrounding him.

"If you'll follow me, my Lady."

Whilst it was asked as a question, there was no denying it was an order. Nodding her head lightly and following the woman, weaving through the crowd as she did so where many people were glaring at her for putting them in their place. She'd need to keep her guard up this night, that was for certain. Morning came quicker than she would've hoped, noting Brienne outside her tent and it now not missing her gaze she had a sword at her hip.

"Why do you wear a cloak of blue, my Lady? Is it in honour of your House?"

"Nay, it is not. I am one of the seven Rainbow Guards for his Grace."

That explained the cloaks of differing colours. Meaning Ser Loras was clearly the Lord Commander. A part of her wanted to ask him if he was given the honour because of his prowess or because he was the one who had the joys of sharing a bed with the younger Baratheon.

"May I stop by a stream to clean myself first?"

Brienne nodded and led her towards one before leaving. Looking around her to take in her surroundings. It was quiet, oddly quiet. Especially considering the army there was so close to her. To say it set her on edge was an understatement. A large eagle landing on w rock as she splashed her face with cool water. Not as refreshing as the water in streams in the North where it was so cold that it could easily freeze a man. Then something caught her eye, turning to face the bird and seeing its eyes milky white. Meaning only one thing.

"Elissa?"

The head bowed a little confirming her guess was correct. A leg being lifted and revealing a small roll of parchment and with a look towards Brienne and seeing she was looking elsewhere to give her privacy, untying it and reading it quickly.

Aunt,

By the time you receive this, Lord Stannis will perhaps be a couple of hours away. Elissa has kept an eye on yourself for us so we know everything.

Jaeron Targaryen.

She already felt on edge, but now even more so. Of course he had someone spying on her. With having wargs working with him it should've been an obvious thought.

"Elissa, ask the King if he would accept talks of a betrothal between Lord Willas and Sansa."

Milky white turned to dark brown before flying elsewhere. Tucking the parchment away because she didn't trust anyone here. It could easily be found. Clearly, it had not gotten out here yet, and a part of her hoped that Stannis didn't know either. Now, she had to move on to her next order. Toy with the idea of Renly bending to a Targaryen. Difficult, but not impossible. Without revealing Jaeron, it meant she had to toy with the last remaining Targaryen. It wasn't uncommon to have a woman in a powerful position in the North, but it wasn't common in the south at all. But first, she had to get Renly alone, which was going to be tricky. Being led towards the crowd once she confirmed she was done and once again being met with furious glances her way. Still heavily insulted by her words the day prior. None dared try anything though, knowing that would bring the Northern force down on them which many knew was a death sentence. An eagle overhead bowing its head which gave her permission to discuss a betrothal as such.

"My Lady, I welcome you. Please, help yourself to food. Although I must say the peaches are the juiciest kind I have ever had the joy of eating."

Oh he definitely thought it was all a game. They were at war where thousands were dead already yet he was talking about peaches. Still, the invite was given and she took one, annoyingly having to agree with his words. Juices exploding in her mouth and dancing on her tongue. Looking around to see Ser Loras and the Queen also in the tent, the Knight glaring at her just as much as the men outside. Perhaps Ned was right, the south was filled with glorified peacocks fighting over who had the prettiest feathers. An older male being there and almost rejoicing at realising this was Lord Mace.

"I assume you have come to apologise, my Lady?"

"What would you like me to apologise for, Lord Commander?"

Out the corner of her eye, she spotted his sister roll her eyes in annoyance. Meaning she had likely tried to talk him out of whatever. Face souring more.

"For your comments yesterday- "

"For saying you are playing at war? There is nothing to apologise for with said remarks, Ser. Until you engage in a battle, it is all words in the wind."

Lord Mace was now turning an interesting shade of red, but the Queen put an end to this.

"My love, why don't you escort my father and brother outside towards the grounds for the jousting?"

At least Renly had the sense to do just that, which left her with the young Tyrell girl. And that's what she was. Despite being nineteen name-days, she was short and had a body like a child. Well, apart from the ample breasts which were obviously on show from the plunging neckline of her dress. A woman's best weapon is her body, her father always used to tell her. Only being shot down by his brother by saying a woman's best weapon was her tongue.

"Please excuse my Lord father and brother, neither are used to being put in their place."

Catelyn doubted that, considering Olenna still lived. Whilst she had never met her herself, a name of the Queen of Thorns was not one to be taken lightly. But she appreciated it all the same, feeling a sense of calmness envelop her that hadn't been there before.

"I must say, your Grace. I find it strange that your husband is not alarmed considering his brother is heading this way."

Margaery's eyes widened for a second before stilling, something many wouldn't recognise. So, they didn't know.

"How did you find this out, my Lady?"

"A Lady never reveals her secrets, your Grace."

"Nay, we are meant to obey our husbands, Lord's, fathers, and sons. Smiling all the way."

It was quiet for a few moments after this, Catelyn breaking her fast on a small bowl of oats and a handful of fresh fruit.

"I congratulate you on your marriage, your Grace. I hope it bears fruit for yourself."

It wouldn't, she knew that much. Even in the North it was common knowledge Renly preferred men to women. It didn't sit right with her at all. It was unnatural. But courtesy called where courtesy called.

"I thank you for your words. I believe you are here to discuss alliances with your sons army?"

Nephews army, but it was something not to be revealed yet. There wasn't much time, and she needed to get the idea out in the open.

"Will your son kneel to my husband?"

"Perhaps, but I will not speak for him."

Margaery laughed gently, sounding like tinkering bells.

"My husband will crush his brother, he will be the King. But to hold the position he will need powerful allies. The Stark's rose to aid putting Robert Baratheon on the throne, I think a reward is needed. I do have a few female cousins who would be more than happy to accept the mantle of Lady of Winterfell."

Anger blossomed within Catelyn at this, but she kept her face stoic. Noticing the hidden message in her tone and knowing she had met a match. Clearly, her grandmother had taught her well. A way to keep her House by marriage below her own to remain at the top.

"My eldest two sons are already betrothed, your Grace. Unless your cousins would like to be betrothed to a boy of six who will receive a small holdfast of his own once he comes of age and will be swearing to Robb."

She had to give her praise, having a small smile on her face and not letting her feelings come to the surface. Hands clasped in front of her and tightening ever so slightly. Good.

"However, I do have two daughters."

"I believe the eldest is betrothed to Joffrey Waters and resides in the Red Keep?"

Horns echoed now, signalling the incoming army. Knowing the next step was now due to occur. Before she was escorted outside, she turned to the Queen and spoke.

"House Stark's influence is everywhere in the Kingdom's, your Grace. My daughters have not been in the capital for weeks."

She didn't stay to catch her reaction, following the beckon for her to follow.