CATELYN IV

"The rooster of the castle sang out its uuuu-ruhu-uuuuuuu! over the grey walls of Winterfell, the horizon a dark greenish black with the tops of fir trees and pines. It was morning, come at last.

It did not matter particularly that it was. Regardless of whether it was still night inside the bedchamber, or whether it had come and gone like a dark veil of hours on end, Queen Catelyn of House Tully could find no sleep in this castle ever again. Not since the past two days, and the terrible revelation they had brought.

Bran had told her what he had seen, and it was something so terrible that she could barely think about it. Brother and sister... If anyone else had told her, she would never have believed it, but Bran was clear in his eyes and sound of mind when he looked at her and told her. She had suspected that there was something awry with his fall all along and now she finally knew what had happened. She saw plain on his face that he was speaking the terrible truth.

Catelyn Tully's stomach was rumbling so hard that it was close to turning in on itself. Her heart was in uproar at the terrible revelation. Cersei... No. No, not her. Please, by the Seven and the old gods of the North, it could not be true. But when she looked into her son's eyes, she knew it to be so.

Cersei. So it had been Cersei herself all along. Her friend, her closest confidante in the castle throughout all of this time... That explained why she had wanted the serving girl captured and put into the cells immediately, to hide her own complicity. And her brother Jaime, the First Ranger at Castle Black, the Lion clad in black, the soiled knight, the Kingslayer. So that was why he had truly come to Winterfell during their stay.

Jaime Lannister was certainly a man without any semblance of honour. She already knew that, of course, but to think of this... This vile thing... She had no words for it. She was thankful for that her husband had banished him to the Wall all those years ago, but now she began thinking that perhaps he should have taken his head instead. It would have been a kindness to many others.

As she sat watching over Bran, her mind going in circles for the thousandth time, there was a knock at the door. Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon both unsheathed their swords.

"Who goes there?" Ser Erryk demanded.

"A loyal old servant to the keep, and to its royal guests." Catelyn recognized the voice. It was Maester Luwen. He had come to see her earlier only the past afternoon the day before.

"What do you want?" Ser Erryk continued in a stone voice. "The Queen shall not be disturbed."

"Morning has come, good ser, and so the castle has awakened with it. My lady Cersei has asked for permission to come and pray with Her Grace. I was tasked to deliver that message myself."

Ser Erryk looked at Catelyn. Catelyn opened her tired dark-circled eyes, lifted her head towards Ser Erryk and gave a look that spoke a thousand words. Most of those words were echoing into the howling contours of a dark and decided 'No'. Never. Not in all the Seven Hells would she let her.

Ser Erryk harkled himself before replying.

"Her Grace does not take visitors in her time of sorrow. She is not to be disturbed, by anyone. By the sword of His Grace, King Eddard of House Stark, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord Primor of Winterfell."

There was silence for a while. Catelyn thought that she could hear faint movements outside the hallway, merely the slightest hints of something stirring. Maester Luwen was not alone, she could tell. The thought terrified her even further, as she grabbed the folds of the bed coverlets desperately, and prayed to all the gods that noone would try and enter the door.

If they did, however, they would be met by Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon's swords. She could trust in that much, at least.

After a while, Maester Luwen spoke up again.

"I implore you to reconsider, Your Grace. In the name of Lord Benjen of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, my lady wants only to join you in praying for the prince's good health."

Catelyn's heart went numb with fear, as Ser Erryk turned his head once again to look at her, and Ser Mandon gave a tired eye to her as well, all the while holding his sword up against the dark wood of the door in anticipation for someone smashing it open. She prayed that they were both quick about themselves, and prayed that Ser Errky had gotten enough sleep last night for the both of them. Ser Mandon had not slept for a dayne, as far as she could remember. That was common for the kingsguard, but all the same, they were men of flesh and blood, and men needed their sleep to stay as sharp as their swords. She supposed that whatever household guard might wait on the other side of the door was more well rested than any of them, and certainly larger in number, most of all.

"Would you permit my lady Cersei to enter, Your Grace?" Maester Luwen asked once again, as if to remind her wearied mind what he had just said. "My lady only wants leave to pray with you."

Catelyn thought long and hard about what to reply, as she tried preparing her throat to carry out the words. She had not spoken much at all during the last couple of days, nor drunk much water, and she felt it sorely now. She took courage to her heart, and made to spoke.

"She may do so from outside the chamber, in the sept, or in the godswood, if it please her ladyship. I know how much she cares for the prince. I will much appreciate it.", she only managed before her voice became a dry crunching, the words catching in her throat as meek tears welled from the corner of her eyes.

Silence again. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heatbeats. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

They at long last heard the leaving of shuffling footsteps on grey stone floor of the hall, more distant for each step, and Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon both loosened somewhat in their posture over by the door. Ser Erryk held his sword up for yet another couple of moments, as he made sure that Maester Luwen, and whoever else was out there were truly out of hearing before allowing himself to relax.

Silence again at that. Silence at last, as Queen Catelyn of House Tully, wife and royal consort of King Eddard sunk down on her weary elbows into the grey ragged fur of her son's direwolf on the bed. She wept in silence.

Bran looked up at her, she could tell. Her son had been awake the whole time, yet said nothing.

He still said nothing, even though he was scared. He only caressed her hair, and the pelt of Summer, as the three of them closed their eyes, numb to the world outside.

…

The next day went much the same, with Maester Luwen once again calling on her door at the hour of the nightingale and asking whether Her Grace would let anyone in. She said no again.

They delivered her breakfast on a platter outside her door, as they had before, and Ser Erryk opened to let the wolves sniff the food first. It was a plate of bacon, smallfowl eggs, caught especially for her, fishbread and a bowl of porridge with honey and blackberries. The wolves scented it. They seemed to be fine with it, so Catelyn trusted it was safe to eat and not posioned.

After the sun had stood highest in the sky, however, she finally got up from her resting son's side and prepared herself for what she had come to plan.

She knew that she had to be brave, for the sake of both of her young sons. She washed her hair herself, as she had done several times before, not trusting in any of the servants to do it, and dressed herself up in her finest red silk gown with golden and silver laces lining the sides, and silver trouts and direwolves adorning the hem. She brushed her auburn hair until it shone like beaten bronze, and put on her golden tiara that she had worn to the feast several moons earlier, an eternity before.

Then she put on a grey robe on top of it all and made her way carefully out the chamber. She had to go alone in this. She had to be brave now, braver than ever before, for her children.

She had to leave either one or both of Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon to watch over Bran, of course, and she decided on both. Ser Mandon had almost grabbed her, insisting that he must join her to guard her, that it was his duty, but she had replied that his duty was to the King's son, and that she would be fine. They had both been hard pressed to accept letting her go on her own, but they also knew the Tully family words. Family. Duty. Honour. She would gladly take the risk, as small as it was, to sacrifice herself if it meant the saving of her children.

She might have taken Rickon and his huge black wolf, Shaggydog, with her, as she had long thought and mulled over the possibility of, but he was far too rowdy to be controlled, still only three and a half, and most of all as eyecatching as anything south of the Wall and north of the Neck. They would be revealed in a matter of minutes if she'd taken them with her.

And so instead she only went by herself, disguised as a simple servant woman or else, with the grey hooded robe on and a white shawl cloth over her hair, trying her best to seem like a modest washerwoman, servant or maid.

...

She took the long way around, the backway around, to the stables. Winterfell was not so much a castle as a giant stone labyrinth, a vast sprawling expanse of stoneways, courtyards, walls, corridors and gatehouses, with at least two guards in most places of passage. But she had learned how to find her way around the keep during the past two or three moons, and so she knew what path to take to avoid as many eyes as possible.

She went the outer way, the southwestern way, to the stables that lay to the south.

...

Catelyn went up to the courtyard outside the stables. The stables were greyish yellow with hay and things of riding equipment stacked up along the sides of the doors even before she entered. Saddles, riding whips, threshes and entire barrels of horseshoes, as well as haybales, shauberks painted with the Stark direwolf and much else.

The man she wanted was right where she expected him to be. She found him soon.

Mankan, one of Benjen's old riding companions, and yet one who had also taken a great liking to her own person, was only a decent sixteen years older than his son Macks. Perhaps just above or around forty, some years older than her husband.

He was much like Benjen himself, though significantly older, long of leg and arm, with an easy smile on his face on most occassions, and a master horseman. His hair was long, like that of his son, yet tattered and balding in spots on his forehead, all a greyish sandy blond turning fast to grey. He had a snipey nose, deep wrinkles and laugh-lines, and all too many pock marks and knaggly fingers to have been born in any castle. He would do just fine for her purpose. And now she must steel herself, for her son, she told herself.

"Your Grace!" Mankan looked surprised to see her, and he bowed with a sudden smile. "I'm sorry, m'lady, my queen, we had not heard...-"

"The fault lies not with you", she quickly interrupted him. "I simply wanted to go out into the stables on my own, and not have my entire court follow me around."

She did barely know herself what she meant by that. Perhaps her two remaining ladies, Lady Eresa and Sandalla, as well as Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon of course, but how would she explain that?

Mankan did not seem to think overly about it, though. He only bowed and proclaimed the stables ready for her tenure. She thanked him, and did her best to give him her most elegant smile. For these short moments, her grief must be as good as gone, if she were to ever be free from it.

"Is Hullen here?"

"He is, my queen", Mankan answered.

Hullen was master of horse so of course he would be in the stables. But that was not part of her plan. The man was like to be most loyal towards his lord. Mankan, however, might be swayed.

"Do you know what his son's name is now again? I forget."

"Harwin", Mankan said quickly. "He's a good old friend of my son, Macks, and of Lord Benjen. He rides a horse like other men use their legs to run. Fast as a wind he is."

"I am sure his mother is proud of him", she tried.

"Aye, she is."

So she is still alive then?

"And your wife? She must surely be proud of her son as well."

Mankan grew quiet. "I am afraid she is not with me any longer."

"I am sorry", she said in earnest.

"Thankyou my queen", Mankan said and bowed slightly again.

"How many years has it been since she passed?"

"Six years, my queen."

"And do you still hold yourself to her memory, or have you tried looking for someone new?"

"I have looked, of course, and been close some time but... Not many who would want an old man like me so soon before winter. Not many here who have not already their own husband to keep on with."

She found herself feeling innerly for the man who stood before her, but she had only ever meant for him to be a means for what she must do to save herself and her family. She felt light-headed all of a sudden.

I must be strong now, she told herself again. I am doing this for Bran and Rickon. For all of us.

"I would not know about that. You are still a good man. Any wife would be lucky to have you."

"I thank you, my queen. You are too kind."

He was almost beginning to blush, she thought. Or perhaps it was merely sadness within himself.

"Would you like to ask for Master Hullen...?" He said, suddenly remembering his place.

"No, not as of yet. I might go to him later. I would like for you to tell me about her. Your wife."

Mankan looked at her with a skeptical face, almost scared, but then nodded quickly and gave way.

"Certainly, my queen. My lady. If that is what my lady wants. ..."

He cleared his throat, and stood awkwardly for a while, leaning on the back of the wooden wall of the stable box as he began telling her of his late wife. "Well... She was fair to look upon, and always kind to me and our bairn. She was a good mother to Macks. Always kept him out of trouble as best she could. Raised all of our bairn the right way, gave them all she could. Took good care of them..."

The man was tearing up already, as Catelyn cursed herself for toying with the man's emotions like this for her own benefit. But once again, she knew what terrors at the castle she was up against, and this would not hurt him, she hoped, at least not in the short run.

As for the long run, well... She hoped that the blame of it might be parcelled out, or perhaps that Benjen would be merciful. He was good to all of the horsemen at the stables. He would not want them hurt, even if they were to make a mistake such as letting the queen escape on a horse – or three or four of them...

Mankan continued telling her about his late wife.

"She had dark hair, and blue eyes..."

Blue eyes... There is something I can work with, she thought to herself, as she glanced at herself in a mirror that hung on the wall. The dirtiest mirrror she had seen in all her life, but still she could see her Tully blue eyes sparkling in its grimey muddled silver glass, full brown and grey of fly-shit and old dust and old horsemuck as it was.

"And her smile... When she smiled, it was as if the spring sun came out... Aye, that's what I miss about her..."

The horsemaster and servant is still at a-tightance, but the man within is beginning to stir and come redly alive... Catelyn thought to herself, as she slowly, discreetly took off her gloves.

She took another two steps and placed herself up onto the wooden platform of the stable box and took the old man's hard and wrinkled hands into her own.

He was shocked at first, and tried shying away, diverting his gaze, but she held on to him firmly, and then spoke to him soothingly.

"Please... Do not be afraid. I know what it is you feel. It is not the same, not by far, but... I was once betrothed to Lord Benjen's older brother, Brandon, long before I married His Grace. They were three brothers, and one sister, before the war began."

"Yes, I know. I remember Lord Brandon. I knew him well", Mankan confirmed.

Yes, of course he did. He must be twenty years older than me, Catelyn thought. Now she must play her cards right, and while also remaining true to her heart.

"After he died at the hands of the Mad King, I felt as if my heart would burst from my grief. It was not only the loss of my husband to be, either, but the way in which he had died... I do say that I would not wish it upon my worst enemy, if I had one."

Mankan shuddered at the thought, and she saw plain on his face that he knew, and remembered. The fire. The Mad King's fire and chains. Her poor Brandon had choked himself to death while trying to reach for the sword to free his father from the Mad King's fire...

Catelyn had to control herself, so as not to begin crying all on her own. But she thought of Bran. She thought of little Rickon. And she thought of her sweet Ned, and Robb and her girls down at King's Landing, and her many duties to the realm as well... Everyone who was counting on her, who was waiting on her to get back. She could not miss her opportunity now, on the account of old sorrows long since gone. No. She must act now. And she must be brave.

"It is a hard thing for a woman to lose her husband, and for a man to lose his wife", she said solemnly, as she continued to hold Mankan's old weathered hands in her own, pale smooth ones.

"I am sure that you know of what pain and sorrowful feeling that I speak. A longing, of sorts."

"Aye, my queen... That much I do." He said.

This was it. She steadied herself, forgot about her shame, her dignity, all of her fears, as she looked into the eyes of the poor simple stableman and made her most queenly and delicate image she could.

This is for Bran, she repeated to herself in her mind. This is for my poor sweet babes. This is so that we can leave this place from our captors and go home.

"Do you think I resemble her?" She asked, angling herself to show her best side to him, and let her auburn locks out from beneath her hood and the white shawl cloth once again. Her hair, her Tully auburn locks shone dimly in the lighting of the stable. She was almost beautiful again.

She hoped that he liked red hair. Most men did, in her experience, especially up north. Outside of the Riverlands it was even more of a rarity than it had been growing up as a Tully at Riverrun, as she had found in her many years at court. Only the Redwynes and a few other families came close.

"Do I look like her?" She repeated, glimmering towards him with her deep Tully blue eyes.

"Aye... I think so, my queen... Perhaps... Yes..." Mankan said, as she saw his eyes light up with the profound hallucination of a man who had found his new reason to live and strive forth.

"Aye... Your Grace... My queen... You are most... " She saw him searching for a word, some word that he had heard at some point in his far-gone youth, the finest word that he knew. "Most... glamour-like", he said finally.

She accepted the compliment with a serene smile, and looked up at him with gratitude.

"Thankyou, Mankan." She said, as she began to caress his face. "You are a good man."

"My... My queen... I am sorry my queen, if I have...-"

"No, you need not be sorry", she only said. "There is only something that I would like from you, if you could picture doing such a thing. As a favour for me... Between you and me.

"I... I... Certainly, my queen."

She swallowed hard, and prepared herself for what she was about to ask of him.

"It is simply that… Could you show me one of Brandon's old trails through the forest? I would so much like to see where he would go. That is, if you... still recall it by heart, of course. He once told me of a little abandoned crofter's village to the east where he would go. I would wish to see it...

He never had the time to take me there before he passed, but... I always wanted to see it with my own eyes. To see where my first love had been, where he had ridden and spent his days when he was young and in his time of manhood, before he left me and his sister and brothers behind. Would you do that for me? Will you take me there?"

Mankan stuttered somewhat, before gathering his thoughts, and giving a quick and dutiful nod.

"Of-... Of course, my lady. My queen. I will go and tell Hullen to...-"

"No. You need not tell Hullen. We can manage with only these horses here at the back, can we not? Can you take them out of the boxes yourself here, do you think?"

"I... Well... Certainly, my queen, but it would proper be best that I told Master Hullen and he could go and take you...-"

"I don't want Hullen to take me to Brandon's place", she interrupted him, as she placed yet another of her soft pale hands on his wheathered old cheek, feeling the roughness of the straws from his stickly old beard which he had not shaved for at least a septance-night. "I want you to take me. I want you to show me.", she said, in as sincere of a voice that she could muster.

Mankan simply stared back at her for a long time, mute to the world, beyon speech, as he got lost in the sight of her shimmering blue eyes, and finally he swallowed and replied.

"...Aye, certainly. … Certainly, my queen. Yes, my queen. As you will."