Riverrun appeared in the valley below her. Cat's heart was racing as she saw the soldiers approaching, at the front was the black armoured figure of her uncle, Brynden Tully, also known as the Blackfish. Under any other circumstance, Cat would have been happy to see her old home, and especially the Blackfish. However, her father was gravely ill, or possibly even dead. She could not be certain she had arrived in time before his demise.
Cat urged her horse towards down the hill towards him. Moments later, they both dismounted their mounts.
"Niece." Brynden smiled. "It is good to see you."
"Uncle." Cat tried her hardest to keep the tears from her eyes. "Please say I'm not too late."
"He is still with us." the Blackfish replied.
"Gods be good." Cat nodded. "I wish to see him."
Instead of riding to the castle, Catelyn walked the remaining distance with her uncle. The winch dropped the drawbridge and raised the portcullis to allow them to pass. Once inside, the drawbridge was securely back in place, the castle impenetrable once more.
The following five days were spent with her father in his chambers, next to his bed. Occasional visits from her uncle, and even fewer from Edmure would break up the monotony.
Few words left the lips of her father, and what he said was usually nonsensical, followed by grunts, gurgles and coughs. Upon first glance, Catelyn was astounded by how different the man laying on the bed was to how he looked the last time she saw him. He was pale and thin, face sunken, hair white as snow. As heartbreaking as it was, she wished the gods would take him sooner rather than later, so he would no longer suffer from whatever ailed him.
On the evening of the sixth day, after eating in her old chambers she occupied as a girl, Catelyn retreated to her father's chambers, sitting once more beside his bed, holding his thin, pale hand and rubbing the back of it with her thumb.
"It will not be much longer," Maester Vyman had warned her, that afternoon. "His last strength is going, though he tries to fight on."
"He was always a fighter," she said. "A sweet stubborn man."
"Yes," the maester said, "but a battle he cannot win. It is time to retire his sword and shield. Time to yield."
To yield, she thought, to make a peace. Not with the Lannisters. Not yet. The wars with them had yet to come, despite her having no discourse with the family. Family, duty, honour, she reminded herself. Could she ever bring herself to love her good-son, the one who would take them to a needless war. A war which could take away many of those she loved, including the possibility of Ned and her children.
"Tell me what I should do." Catelyn asked, knowing she spoke aloud to herself. Her father could not answer, for he was near gone. "I can forgive Ned for the love he held for his sister. But the boy. I know it is no fault of his. He cannot help who sired him. Jon, or Aegon, is wed to Sansa, in every way true. As a mother, I could wish for no more. A future king. He loves her dearly. I just fear the wars to come. If she can love him so, mayhap I can too."
Lord Hoster's hand tightened on hers. Cat turned to him, he tried to speak, but it came out throaty and more of a gurgle. She bent over him, to hear his words.
"Love them." He whispered. "House words."
Hoster Tully's breath laboured for a short while longer, each breath shallower than the last. The pulse in his neck slowing with each breath. It had been a minute or so when Cat realised both had stopped.
Let the kings of winter have their cold crypts. The Tullys drew strength from the river, and it was the river they returned to when their lives had run their course, Cat thought.
Lord Hoster laid in a slender wooden boat, clad in silver armour, plate-and-mail. His blue and red cloak was spread beneath him. A trout, scaled in silver and bronze, crowned the great helm they placed beside his head. On his chest, a painted wooden sword, his fingers curled about its hilt. Mail gauntlets hid his pale, wasted hands, almost making him look strong again. The rest of the boat was filled with wood, kindling, scraps of parchment, and stones to weigh it down in the water. The leaping trout of Riverrun banner ran from the prow, fluttering in the breeze.
In honour of the faith of the seven, the same number were chosen to push the funereal boat to the water. They were the Lords Bracken, Blackwood, Vance, and Mallister, Ser Marq Piper ... and Lame Lothar Frey, who had come down from the Twins. Edmure and her uncle made up the other two. Lord Walder had sent another son, the bastard Walder Rivers, to accompany Lame Lothar. Cat had concerns regards to the Freys being present, but this was not the time for worries. That would come later.
Their arrival, within hours of Lord Hoster's passing, sent Edmure into a rage. "Walder Frey should be flayed and quartered!" he'd shouted. "He sends a cripple and a bastard to pay his respects, tell me there is no insult meant by that."
"I have no doubt Lord Walder chose his envoys with care." she replied. "It was a peevish thing to do, but remember who we are dealing with. The Late Lord Frey, Father used to call him. The man is ill-tempered, envious, and above all prideful."
Lothar had the honour of helping to send Lord Hoster on his last voyage, as the Lord of the Crossing remained the most powerful of Riverrun's bannermen, and Lothar was here in his stead.
The seven launched Lord Hoster from the stair, wading down the steps as the portcullis was winched upward. Lothar Frey, Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood, stood at the prow, chest deep in the river as they shoved the boat out into the current to guide it on its way.
Catelyn watched from the battlements, like she had many times before. Beneath her, the swift, wild, muddy waters of the Tumblestone plunged like a spear into the side of the broad Red Fork. A morning mist hung over the water.
The boat drifted out from under the stone arch of the Water Gate, picking up speed as it was caught in the currents of the Tumblestone. As the boat emerged from the sheltered walls of the castle, its square sail filled with wind. Lord Hoster Tully's rudder held true, he sailed down the centre of the channel, into the rising sun.
"Now." Brynden urged. Beside him, her brother the now Lord Edmure, nocked an arrow to his bowstring. His squire held a brand to its point. Edmure waited until the flame caught, lifting the bow, he drew the string to his ear, and let loose, and the arrow sped upward. Catelyn followed its flight, until it plunged into the water, well away from Lord Hoster's boat.
Edmure cursed. "The wind." he said, nocking a second arrow. "Again." The brand lit the rag behind the arrowhead. Edmure lifted, drew, and released once more. The arrow flew too far. It vanished in the river, far beyond the boat, its fire extinguished in an instant. A flush of red was creeping up Edmure's neck. "Once more," he commanded, taking a third arrow from the quiver.
Ser Brynden must have seen the same thing. "Let me, my lord." he offered.
"I can do it." Edmure insisted. He let them light the arrow, lifted the bow and drew back the arrow. Finally he released. The arrow flew up, and up before finally falling. Into the waters, hissing past the billowing sail.
A narrow miss this time, yet still a miss. "The Others take it!" Edmure swore. The boat was almost too far away. Edmure thrust the bow at his uncle.
"Swiftly." Ser Brynden said. He nocked an arrow, held it to be lit, drew and released. As the shot rose through the air, she saw the flames trailing. The boat had all but vanished in the mists. Falling, the flaming arrow descended into the fog, but only for a moment. Then, fog glowed pink and orange as the sail took to the flame.
Momentarily, Catelyn saw the outline of the boat, engulfed in flames. Watch for me, little cat, she could hear him whisper.
Catelyn reached out for her brother's hand, but Edmure had already gone. Instead, uncle Brynden took her hand with his strong fingers. Together they stood watching as the fire grow smaller as the boat disappeared into the distance. And then it was gone. The weight of his armour would carry Lord Hoster down to rest on the riverbed, where the Tullys lay eternally to rest, with the fish as their last attendants.
Once the burning boat vanished from their sight, Edmure disappeared inside. Edmure was Lord of Riverrun, with knights falling in around him, murmuring condolences and promises of fealty.
Last night in his cups he had broken down and wept, full of regret. "I should have been with him, as you were." he said. "Did he speak of me at the end? Tell me true, Cat. Did he ask for me?"
Lord Hoster's last word had been "House words." But Catelyn could not bring herself to tell him that.
"He whispered your name." She lied, and her brother had nodded gratefully and kissed her hand.
Others were waiting to offer their consolations, so Catelyn stood aside while Lord Jason Mallister, spoke to her brother. But when Lothar Frey approached, she stiffened, and waited to hear what Lothar would say. The story she had been told of Robb's wedding at the forefront of her mind. Whatever a Frey had to say, was worth listening to, for they were treacherous, and would slit your throat in a heartbeat.
"My Lord." Lothar Frey nodded, a leg twisted at birth had earned him the name Lame Lothar. He had served as his father's steward for the past dozen years, and thus was close enough to know of Walder Frey's planned treacheries. "I am loath to intrude upon your grief, but perhaps you might grant an audience tonight?"
Edmure frowned. "Not tonight."
"It would be my pleasure," said Uncle Brynden.
"I shall look forward to our talk." Lothar's weasel smile emerged from under his pointy beard.
"Uncle." Catelyn approached the Blackfish. "We must speak with urgency and of the utmost privacy." Her voice was low, only enough for him to hear the last words. "There is much to say, and before you speak with Lothar, you must hear what I have to tell you." Uncle Brynden frowned. "It is of father's last words."
Tears, genuine for the death of her father, poured from Catelyn's eyes. Uncle Brynden ushered her to his private chambers and insisted to the courtiers and staff, they should not be disturbed, while he comforted his niece.
Once inside, Cat scuttled over to one of the chairs in front of the hearth, while her uncle closed the doors and locking them. Producing a carafe of wine and two goblets, he sat in the chair opposite to her, and handed her a goblet containing liquid, the colour of blood. He watched on as she took a sip, gathering her thoughts. She needed answers before she could reveal the truth.
"What do you know of Rhaegar Targaryen? I don't mean the stories branded around, uncle. I mean of the man himself. Before he took my good-sister. What did you think of him? Would he have made a just King?"
Confusion etched the grizzly lines on the face of her uncle, turning to thoughtful. "If you had asked me the day prior to discovering Lady Lyanna gone, I would have said he would have made King Jaehaerys the first envious for the love the people had of him. Rhaegar was a man of the people, but he knew how to charm lords alike. A righteous man who would have made a good King. However, I suspected, he was in no hurry to sit on the Iron Throne. He would have been a reluctant ruler, doing it out of duty." He furrowed his brow. "Why are we speaking of Rhaegar Targaryen?"
"Do you think he was touched with the same madness as his father?" asked Cat.
"I cannot say. Up until the day he met Lady Lyanna, I would have said no. But he took a young woman, barely flowered, against her will and murdered her. On that alone, I would have to say aye, he must have been touched by the madness of his father."
Catelyn sighed, this was not news to her. Many had said the same; Rhaegar was a righteous man. Hard to believe he would do such a thing.
"What do you think happened with Rhaegar and Lyanna? I mean truly, not what the tales say, uncle. From what you know of the people." asked Cat.
"It is almost twenty years ago. Is this about Brandon's bastard?" Her uncle deduced.
Catelyn couldn't, or needn't lie. This was about Jon and Sansa. Without telling her uncle the truth, she was still able to claim it was about Jon. "It is, uncle Brynden. What did Brandon die for?"
The edginess in her voice must have told the Blackfish there was more to the story, as he eyed his niece with suspicion. Yet he spoke with care. "I heard rumours that Lyanna wished for nothing to do with Robert Baratheon. Upon meeting one another, it was said they fell in love. I don't believe in the song where they sing of love at first sight. But who am I to say?" the older man shrugged.
"If you want to know what I think, this is it. Rhaegar and Lyanna fell madly in love. They ran off together as young lovers. When her brother and Brandon were killed by the Mad King, Lyanna was too scared to return, for she too would perish at his hands. When Rhaegar died, I think Lyanna was so grief stricken, she took her own life." He narrowed his eyes, as Cat lowered hers. "But Ned might know more. Why don't you ask him?"
"You think the madness Rhaegar had was being madly in love?" asked Cat.
The Blackfish nodded. "Sadly, I do. Thousands died for that love. It was not the behaviour of a King. It was selfish of him. Had he been anyone other than the crown prince, then he would not have been deemed so mad."
The answer satisfied Cat enough to suggest her uncle would believe her, and mayhap have more faith in Jon than she did. Although, in truth he had done nothing to prove him unworthy, although bringing the wildlings south of the wall was not something she would have advocated.
"You are right." said Cat. "They were in love. Rhaegar didn't kidnap Lyanna. Not only that, but he set Elia aside, annulling the marriage. He and Lyanna were married in secret. I doubt Rhaegar wished for it to stay that way, but he died. I suppose it was for the best. The rebellion was based upon a lie. Brandon and Rickard died for a lie."
"I believe Hoster suspected the truth of it." Her uncle said. "He did not wish to take part in the rebellion. I suspect he knew something. But eventually he was left with little choice. A sad tale, if you ask me."
"Lyanna didn't kill herself. Rhaegar didn't kill her, or order her death." said Cat.
Shock clouded the face of the Blackfish. "You know how she died?"
Catelyn nodded. "She died on the birthing bed."
"Poor girl." Brynden sat back. "So, what has this all got to do with old Walder Frey?"
"Do you not wish to know what happened to the babe?" asked Catelyn.
The Tully blue eyes of her uncle widened. "Seven hells Cat, do you say what I think you are about to say?"
Catelyn nodded. "My good-son is called Aegon Targaryen. Ned and I have been raising the son of Robert's greatest foe. We are all traitors to the realm. Now I find out Robert's son is not his, but a Lannister bastard, and the true heir was under my nose all the time."
The Blackfish rose and paced about the floor, before heading to each window, checking for anyone being able to listen, although his room were over the river and there was no balcony in sight. And closing the shutters.
"What is he like?" Her uncle asked. "I know you had no fondness for the boy."
"Jon does not wish to be King." said Cat. "yet, he knows Joffrey is a tyrant who will bring ruin to Westeros. Tywin is determined to have his family presiding over the Seven Kingdoms and ruling each kingdom individually."
"And yet, he intends to take the Iron Throne." Her uncle surmised. Catelyn nodded and sipped on the wine. Dornish red, she surmised, distinguishable by the quality. "This is enormous, and yet I understand the secrecy for now. The realm will bleed once more for a Targaryen." He sighed.
"He is doing what he believes is right. Joffrey cannot be allowed to sit on the Iron Throne, and Jon is the only one with the credentials to challenge him."
The Blackfish chuckled. "He wants our fealty." It wasn't a question. "And you came to me first?"
Cat shook her head. "I asked father first. He said, Sansa, Queen. House words."
"It looks like Hoster swore fealty." Her uncle smirked. "Is this what you want?" Catelyn nodded. "I'll talk to Edmure."
"I told Edmure, father's last words were his name." Catelyn shrugged.
"Even better. Hoster told you to tell him." Her uncle had the first twinkle in his eye since she'd returned to Riverrun. "You'll get your fealty. Don't you worry. Now, on to the problem of Walder Frey."
"I suspect he is in league with the Lannisters." Catelyn told him. "Whatever Lame Lothar has to say, concerns me greatly. I need to know of their machinations. I fear they will betray us. I fear they are going to betray Edmure either way."
"I suspect you are right." Her uncle rose and made his way to his desk, pulling out a scroll. He gave it to Cat who read the words to herself.
His gracious majesty, King Joffrey, requires you attend his wedding to Margaery Tyrell in Kings Landing, where you will swear fealty to him and his family. As it the tradition for three hundred years.
The wedding will take place on the first day of the third moon. If you are unable to attend, King Joffrey will still require for you to swear fealty, as is with all new Kings. Alternative methods would have to be made.
To not swear fealty would be deemed an act of defiance.
Tywin Lannister
Hand of the King
Cat read the threatening words, once more, in horror, before looking up at her Uncle. "How have you responded? What did Edmure say?"
"Edmure knows nothing of the letter. What are they going to do? Take us to war for not bending the knee?" Blackfish asked.
Cat vigorously nodded her head. "Yes, he will. Why have you not told Edmure?"
"He would listen to nothing. He was busy with his friends, doing who knows what. The wedding is in less than a fortnight, we would never be able to ride to Kings Landing in such a short amount of time." Her uncle said.
"And how long have you had this letter in your possession, uncle?" asked Cat.
"Three weeks." The Blackfish replied.
"Seven hells."
"Not really any point now, we've got a better offer." Blackfish smiled.
"And will Edmure see it that way?" Catelyn asked.
"It matters not, niece. The Lannisters have already made their decision. Our first response was not enough to sway them or give us time for Edmure's transition as Lord Paramount of the Trident. His bannermen must swear fealty to him, then he can swear fealty to the King. Lord Tywin knows that, even if the little shit, Joffrey does not." said Brynden. "Anyway, I think it matters not. The Lannisters are already making their presence felt in the Riverlands. Five moons ago, Kevan Lannister marched on Harrenhal to force Lady Shella Whent to swear fealty to Joffrey."
Cat brought her hand to her mouth in shock. Her uncle continued. "Lady Shella had no men to hold the castle and surrendered it to Ser Kevan. My spies tell me she did not swear fealty and did not live to tell the tale. Lord Tywin himself visited the castle only one moon later. He wasn't the only one. One of the Frey's was there, although my spy said he didn't know which one because they all look alike. He heard another name mentioned. Although I do not wish to worry you."
"Roose Bolton?" asked Cat. She knew certain plots had been hatched at Harrenhal in the other life of her children, as she called it.
Blackfish frowned. "How did you know?"
Cat's heart sank, even more truths from the stories they had told of their past lives. "Call it an educated guess. Robb suspected he was not fully on board with Jon's wildling proposal."
"Why has Jon brought the wildlings south of the wall?" Blackfish asked.
"The Others have returned." Cat said. "We are getting reports from multiple sources. Jon saw them himself. If we leave the wildlings in the north, we will surely face them in battle. If we bring them south, they will fight beside us." Cat couldn't believe she was defending the plan, but the more she considered what her children and Jon knew, she had to believe it made sense.
"Who is Lord of Harrenhal?" asked Cat. If it was Janos Slynt, she could not ignore what they said, and Jon would have her unquestionable support.
"Janos Slynt is not Lord of Harrenhal."
Unsurprised by the information, Catelyn nodded. "Treat with Lame Lothar. I will write to Ned and Sansa. They must be told of this."
"Be weary what you write, niece. The ravens fly over the Twins. An arrow could easily intervene in any letters you send."
"Then we must make haste and head north as soon as we can." Cat said. "Ned needs to know, Roose is planning on betraying him."
"I will speak with Edmure and Lame Lothar. We pretend nothing is happening and I will go north with you on behalf of House Tully."
Cat stood. "Thank you, uncle." She said, as her uncle got to his feet. "I fear it is time I must retire. Today has been long and arduous."
Her uncle nodded and placed a kiss upon her forehead. "Go rest, Cat. Leave it to me." He said.
Cat nodded, straightened her skirts, and left her uncle alone to digest what she had told him, while she herself needed to consider her feelings towards her good-son. This wasn't just about Jon, this was about fighting to not only save the Seven Kingdoms, but her entire family.