CATELYN
The riverlands stretched out to either side of the God's Eye, the tourney grounds and the sky completing the frame of the water as the sun poured down. A strong breeze was raising its vapours up into the castle, every banner flapping loudly. The gatehouse provided a beautiful view, unmarred by the ugly walls of Harrenhal that ate up one's eye in any other part of the place.
But it was wasted. All Catelyn could think about was the terrible history of the place, and not just that of the dragons melting the towers in the days of the Conquest. She was there herself when Rhaegar Targaryen offered the crown of blue winter roses to the sister of her husband-to-be, from the point of his lance.
She had been sitting in the next box, as aghast as everyone else. A married man and a prince offering a girl betrothed to a Lord Paramount his regard for all the realm to see.
Her eyes drifted to a spot on the grounds, a little way off from a tree that looked familiar. Her heart was already heavy with the weight of recent events, and grew more so as she regarded the ghosts of the past. There it is, she thought idly, where it happened.
And now the castle was host to history once again. To the west some way off, Catelyn watched the first wildlings south of the Neck were entering the walls through a gap. The rubble that had been burned through centuries before had fallen into the moat and silted up, creating an entrance without a gate. On their horses and unicorns, the infamous barbarians out of the tales were in her father's lands. Perhaps it is a kindness he cannot see this, in his illness.
Hoster Tully would not have tolerated it, not in a thousand generations, for any reason. Her brother Edmure was more tolerant, courtesy of the shattering of Tywin's host at the Blood Ford. She was sure the son had not given the father the true telling of what had happened, nor did she have the courage to do it herself.
The savages trotted in column into the expanse of the godswood, so orderly that Catelyn could scarcely believe it though it was no longer a novel sight. A large area had been granted them for their stay, including the bathhouse and the scarred weirwood.
May the gods grant them the revelation of actually using the baths, she thought, recalling the scent of unicorn from her last encounter. The next meeting was ordained from on high too, it seemed.
A snow owl had flown directly to Robb with a message in its talons, its mind overthrown by that of one of the wildling skinchangers. To the surprise and alarm of many, the Canadians announced they would not be returning home, and an expedition had been sent their queen. For what purpose, they did not say, save that their ambassador would be arriving with a large entourage and to clear the way.
"Mother," said the familiar voice she had been expecting.
Catelyn turned to Robb, a light grey cloak over his shoulders and a hand on his sword's grip held in rest. She found Theon with him, his father's golden kraken on his black doublet. Both were smiling. She frowned. There was much for her son to smile about, but it was unnerving seeing Greyjoy do so in earnest. Mayhaps he has gotten too comfortable.
"What has made you climb all the way up here?" she asked her son.
"I could ask you the same, Mother," Robb replied, walking over and embracing her quickly, "I bring good news."
She glanced at Theon, still smiling like a cat. "I can see that," she said.
Robb caught the look, and his hand appeared from underneath his cloak with a raven scroll. "Lord Lannister has all but admitted defeat," he beamed, "He has offered terms for a truce. He's willing to send Father back to us."
Catelyn suddenly felt as light as air, like she might blow away in the wind, her hands shooting to her mouth. She swayed on her feet for a moment. Her son's jerking step towards her snapped her out of it, just before he grabbed an arm to prevent what would have been a fall to her knees. Eddard Stark shall return to me.
She looked up and found Robb's blue eyes wide with concern. Catelyn gave a nod and straightened up. "I am well," she reassured him, "I prayed for this every morning and night." Robb took a step back again, his mouth still a thin line with concern.
"It is not perfect," her son said, "Neither Sansa nor Arya are a part of his offer. We still must go to King's Landing. We will get even more favourable terms with our host beneath the walls of the Red Keep."
"The whole realm is with us," Theon sniffed, waving a flying insect out of his face, "Even without a truce, the Lannisters are doomed."
Not willing to ask the kraken's spawn what he meant, Catelyn looked to Robb again instead. There was a scowl aimed Theon's way before the answer came.
"A raven arrived from Highgarden," Robb explained, "Lord Renly has declared his own claim to the throne."
Catelyn blinked. "But Stannis has already declared himself king." The message had come the same day they had arrived at Harrenhal from Riverrun.
"And told the world that Robert wore cuckold's horns instead of antlers," Theon smirked out, the reminder turning her stomach, "It was the Tyrells who starved Stannis in the Stag's Rebellion, was it not? He's as like as not to name another house as Warden of the South for that insult. No men should wait quietly for that."
Anger rose in Catelyn's throat. "Theon Greyjoy, I would remind you that Lord Stannis is the elder of the Baratheon brothers," she said with as much sternness as she could muster, "I cannot say if it was Lord Renly or Lord Tyrell who conceived this claim, but it shall bathe the realm in blood."
"Aye," Theon agreed defiantly, "In Lannister blood. We have no quarrel with either stag." He speaks of 'we' like he is one of us?
Catelyn and Robb exchanged glances, both knowing better. Renly might be understanding, for he had no need of troops if the Reach stood with him, but his acquiescence would come at a price. Stannis was not a man to allow the North and Riverlands to stand by. Both would look to the Tullys and Starks to support their claim regardless.
Yet the talk of the lords within Harrenhal was not of support for either man. Other whispers were shared, an old dream quietly reviving.
An eagle's cry broke off any further discussion of the matter, sounding so loudly it made Catelyn jump. She turned her head in the direction of the noise, as did every other person on the gatehouse.
A cavalcade of birds swooped quickly, just overhead, one after the other; snowy eagles, snowy owls, and white seagulls. Skinchangers.
Everyone ducked as they darted between the two towers of the gatehouse, and watched the birds turn in the direction of the godswood.
There was barely enough time to see feathers fall before a bearded sentry with a Tully tabard shouted. "Look, m'lady!"
Shocked into it by the man's tone, Catelyn and Robb went to the wall and looked where the man was pointing. A column of dust approached from the south-west, coming up the ancient road that led to High Heart. The dirt rose like a tail, narrow towards the ground before spreading out high into the air and floated off northwards with the wind. From behind a copse bursting with green leaves, the things kicking up the dirt appeared.
Three objects flew up the road at an unbelievable speed towards the castle, the shape of men riding inside and atop them. Catelyn's mouth dropped open. She had never seen anything move so fast. How does a body take such a thing?
They were quite obviously cousin to the Canadian machine, but rather than some moving castle like that had been, these were more akin to carts or merchant's carriages, albeit without the need of horses. They even had the frame for a canvass roof, though it appeared to be used to steady large sorcerous weapons on each of the machines.
What has been brought upon Westeros this day! Catelyn thought, a shiver riding up her spine, Is this the beginning of another Conquest? Does Queen Elizabeth herself come to force us to bend the knee?
Her feeling of dread only deepened as behind the three came a whole army of the crawler machines, each a perfect sibling of the original, and led on by still more horseless carriages.
Some had long flat backs stacked high with what Catelyn assumed was vittles and arms, others seemed to have cabins enclosed with glass for carrying people. All looked like creatures from the Hells; belching smoke, made to ram men down and crush them under wheel. Flashing red lights sparked to life atop the leaders, accompanied by a siren's song of repeated wailing that would have woken a dead man.
"What a noise!" Theon proclaimed, as more men ran to the crenellations to see what it was, "These Canadians have no intent to hide."
"Why would they?" Robb said, with a worried glance to his mother, "There must be many more than four of them now."
Catelyn gulped her fear down, so she could speak with a clear voice."The question is how many," she thought aloud, "But we shall soon have our answer."
The three machines that had raced ahead of the rest appeared once again, following the edge of the dried moat across the tourney ground. They passed the place of Rhaegar's Folly directly, and the gap in the walls the wildlings had entered by. The column behind was catching up, a large metal snake, weaving its way forward.
The occupants of the three became distinguished from mere shapes as they got closer. They were almost all Canadians, dressed in their dark green clothes and armour with black boots, scarves and strange devices over their mouths and faces to protect from the dust.
Two people stood out more than the others, for they wore black and grey, and their heads were not covered by Canadian helms. Jon and his wildling bride, Catelyn thought, A Stark now. Her instinct told her the man was a threat more than ever, no matter the relationship between Robb and Jon.
The machines carrying them slowed and turned to a stop just in front of the gatehouse, outside what was practical bow range. Most of the Canadians dismounted, as did Jon and Val Stark, leaving only one man upon each for the perched weapons. As if it mattered, for each Canadian carried a smaller weapon of one kind or another and no doubt almost as deadly.
They formed a loose line in front, and a small man walked out a little further with Jon and his wildling wife, giving a wave up to where Catelyn and Robb watched.
"We shall meet them," Robb declared, giving Theon a nudge, "All three of us." The young kraken groaned an incoherent objection.
Catelyn felt no shortage of sympathy for Theon at that moment. "Very well," she said.
Robb led the way down the spiral stairway of one of the gatehouse towers, more and more bannermen seeming to collect behind them as they went. No word of command was given, the need was obvious. When they reached the bottom and out behind the portcullis, Lord Umber was riding up at a ferocious pace.
Robb stopped to wait for the man, and the huge and sweaty Greatjon half-leapt off the saddle to join. "My lord," he rumbled, wiping the water off his brow, "The wildlings've arrived, poured through into the godwood as they said they'd do. The Canadians are not far behind, must be hundreds of 'em!"
"We know," Robb replied, "Their envoy is without. Come, we shall hear what this is all about."
Nothing to our benefit, Catelyn thought, Not in the long view.
The portcullis began to rise, a noise of clanging metal and thumping wood rolling from above. They all mounted horses for it was too far to walk with any dignity. Some men-at-arms got into the saddle too, to carry the banners. Elsewhere the riverlords were stirring, drawn to the commotion.
Catelyn quickly hurried her son with a word or two. This would become more complicated if her father's banners became involved. The Mootons in particular had come to Harrenhal with a grievance.
Robb once more moved in front, walking out of the gate and out of the shadow of the walls. Grey Wind darted from behind by to join him, a blur of lighter colour and dog-smell. The envoy shifted his weight nervously, and his fellows turned their sorcerous weapons towards the wolf specifically. Catelyn wanted to wince and move away from where they aimed, but Robb just kept walking, so she did the same. At least we know they fear something, she consoled herself.
The Stark party approached in line, all fully aware that the Canadians waiting could destroy them in mere seconds. Only the Greatjon smiled as the distance closed, his appreciation for the foreigners rooted three-fold; marriage into royalty, victory at the Ford and leaving him the glory of taking Harrenhal back.
Soon, Robb called a halt and dismounted. That was wise, there was no need to give the impression of superiority. Meet them on open ground, on foot, Catelyn thought bitterly, And we shall seem as equals.
The smell of burning fuels assaulted the senses, the machines belching them still growling with life. The envoy turned and made a cutting gesture to her throat, causing her fellows to return to the metal beasts and gentle them for the moment. With that task complete, the envoy removed her helm.
Eyes and hair as black as night, skin bronzed from the sun so much it made her look like she was from Dorne, Princess Zheng gave a cursory salute in the manner of her people. "Hey," she called, clearly pleased with herself and holding her arms out to either side, "We're back."
Blowing out a breath through her teeth before she could stop it, Catelyn was utterly flabbergasted by the woman's manner. How is this woman a Princess?!
"Your Highness," Robb replied cheerily, "I see you bring my brother back to me."
Gods, he is enamoured with her, Catelyn said to herself, And Theon too. "And you bring a great many others too."
Grey Wind immediately went to the Princess, interrupting whatever further message was to be given. She seemed frozen to the spot as the direwolf whined and pressed its large head up against her chest, tongue licking to try and touch her face. Robb and Jon both grinned as Zheng turned her head away from the affection.
"Not you too!" she complained with teeth clenched, "Ghost is bad enough." The complaint did not stop the animal's excitement. Catelyn watched with bemusement, thankful the creature did not do that to her. Gods only know where that tongue has been.
The distraction seemed to be a signal for Jon Snow, as he stepped past the Canadian without leave, Val close behind. Robb moved to meet him, and the two clasped each other's arms, smiling, before giving each other a quick embrace. "Brother," Robb said.
"Brother," Jon repeated, "Much has happened."
"Where is Ghost?" Robb asked, head moving to look for his wolf's sibling.
"Hunting. There was not time to stop on the march to feed him. He'll return by nightfall."
Robb nodded, before bowing slightly to Val. "My lady, you look well."
The beautiful wildling's chin rose slightly, shaking her long blonde braid with the movement. "For now," she allowed, "I am with child."
An eruption of joy came from the Greatjon and Robb both. They both closed in to congratulate and embrace, Val's form practically overwhelmed by her cousin's arms. Jon's face turned a bright red as Theon joined in with inappropriate remarks.
Catelyn's heart clenched. What she had feared had begun to transpire. If the child was a boy, it could be the beginning of the competition for the lords of the North; Jon's elder son against one Robb had yet to sire. And she knew she might live to see the festering wound that would become for the peace of the realm.
But her unease and resentment gave way to resignation. My son does not see the threat. She began to wonder if her own fear of the bastard was misplaced. There were other defences against the possibility of usurpation. Jon's children could be fostered at Winterfell with Robb's own, marriages arranged, the bloodlines rejoined. Assuming the Karstarks would agree. If anyone sends the spark to light a war of brothers, it would be them.
"Excuse me," said a voice in a strange accent beside Catelyn. She turned to find Princess Zheng. Grey Wind had put its head under her arm, still shifting its weight this way and that underneath.
"They seem busy," the mannerless royal said, thumbing at the others, "I'll just pass on the message I'm supposed to deliver to you, if that's okay?"
Catelyn glanced at her son, deep in conversation with his half-brother. "Very well, your Highness," she said, "What message does your Queen convey?"
Zheng seemed to pause, as if something that had been said was strange, before recognition lit up her dark eyes and she gave a small nod. "Canada has sent an expeditionary force to represent her interests here. Not just soldiers, but scholars. You would probably call them maesters."
Catelyn ingested this with interest, happy to think of something other than Jon Snow for the moment. If this is the beginning of a Conquest, Queen Elizabeth is more subtle than the Targaryens were, she thought, A woman's touch, perhaps? "And what interests does your queen have in Westeros?"
"Unity against the Others. Our dārion is afraid they'll get to our country," Zheng said with certainty, "Our best defence is bringing your people together to face the threat, so we don't have to." Grey Wind finally removed himself from her person, choosing to sit nearby, though still waiting for the attention it hadn't received yet.
The use of Valyrian aside, it was not hard to understand their purpose. More honest than many would be about that. "And how shall you achieve that?" Catelyn asked, "Events have moved on since you went to the Isle, and not for the better."
Princess Zheng shrugged. "Canada demands peace," she said, "So there'll be peace whether some people like it or not." Her hands went to grip her sorcerous black weapon, as if to explain how that might be achieved.
Unable to stop her brow from rising, Catelyn couldn't believe what she was hearing. So the foreigners will force the knights to put down their swords. She had expected naked demands, but not that. But if they return my children and my lord husband back to me, without my son needing to risk his life further, it shall all be worth it.
She smiled at the ill-mannered princess.
"It appears your Queen and I share an interest after all. You and I must talk further."