Arya
Weese woke Arya with a kick well before dawn. "Get goin' to the kitchens n' give this ta smith." He handed her a note and cuffed her on the head. "Now off with you." With a grunt the squat man waddled off to kick more servants awake.
Arya ran before she could incur more kicks and cuffs from Weese. She ran out of the Wailing Tower and into the courtyard heading not towards the kitchens but instead to where she had found a small alcove where the stairs ran up the Wailing Tower.
A shadow passed overhead making Arya lookup. She saw ravens streaming out of the Kingspyre Tower.
Safe and sound in the alcove she turned her attention back to the note and read it. It was a list detailing bread and cheese and beer and salted pork that must be loaded into barrels and then onto wagons. The numbers ran on and on but to Arya the conclusion was obvious.
Lord Tywin is leaving Harrenhal.
Arya sat stunned for a moment as she tried to make sense of this. Jaqen! I have to find Jaqen.
She considered the note for a moment. It can wait.
She stuffed the note into her shift and then ran to the barracks. She ran past dozens of liveried men-at-arms who, like always, ignored her. She was just another little grey mouse that ran through the walls and towers of Harrenhal.
The barracks and armoury were busier than she had ever seen them hundreds of men crowded the narrow passages and wide halls carrying bundles of arrows and bow staves, spear shafts and sword blades, and racks of mail and saw men putting rusty coats of mail into barrels filled with sand then rolling them around the yard.
She ran up and down a dozen sets of stairs, from one hall to another and back again. She couldn't find Jaqen anywhere. She was on the verge of leaving but a hand grabbed her shoulder and forced her into a wall she struggled to turn around but the broad hand was to strong.
From the corner of her eye she saw someone moving up beside her. It was Rorge glaring at her with his beady eyes and noseless face. She looked down and saw that the hand holding her was pale and clammy. Biter.
"What do ya want ya littl' twat?" Rorge menaced while Biter, still holding her to the wall, only hissed.
"Where's Jaqen?"
Rorge seemed taken aback by the question, and Biter's grip on Arya lessened letting her struggle around and place her back to the wall while she glared at the two men.
Rorge managed to recover his courage and snorted through the hole on his face."Why should I tell you? Why shouldn't I drag you into one o' the beds upstairs and fuck you bloody?"
Arya kept silent for a moment. "Because Jaqen owes me and if you hurt me he'll hurt you."
Rorge sneered at her but answered her nonetheless. "He's on guard duty at the East Gate. Better hurry we and the rest o' the Brave Companions are headin' out with the van tomorrow."
With a nod from Rorge, Biter released Arya letting her walk away from the two monsters with a calm that she didn't feel. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She turned a corner away from the pair. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She controlled herself until she left the armoury and entered the courtyard that surrounded it. From there she ran to the east gate. I'm not scared I'm just in a hurry that's all.
The east gate wasn't used nearly as much as the main gate in the northern walls so the soldiers standing guard were all chatting among themselves, except for one. Jaqen, easily distinguished by his divided red and white hair, was leaning next to a wall far apart from the rest of the soldiers. She ran towards the Lorathi.
Jaqen spoke without looking at her. "A girl is in a rush."
Arya panted. "Rorge said you're leaving Harrenhal."
Jaqen, still not looking at her, shrugged. "A man spoke the truth."
"But you can't! I haven't said all three names."
Jaqen finally turned to look at Arya. "A man must do what another man orders. Perhaps a girl can think of two names to name."
Arya paused for a moment. "Weese."
Jaqen nodded. "And a second name if a girl wishes."
Arya furrowed her brows in thought.
"A girl has time to think. A man does not leave until noon tomorrow."
"No. I. I can think of another name." Arya bit her lip, thinking hard on everyone in Harrenhal. Who was cruel and who was not. There was only one choice. "Gregor Clegane."
That name made even Jaqen raise an eyebrow. "A man is strong and fast and more clever than a man appears. It will take time, but it will be the day comes when you would find me again, give that coin to any man from Braavos, and say these words to him valar morghulis."
"Valar morghulis," Arya repeated. It wasn't hard. Her fingers closed tight over the coin. "Thank you Jaqen." She turned to deliver the Weese's message to the kitchens, only an hour late.
That night Weese beat her. "Stupid little bitch!" He slapped her across the face. "Can't even deliver a fucking note in good time!" He threw her onto the floor. "How fucking stupid are you!" A lash from his switch.
Arya squeezed her hands so hard her nails cut her hands, anything not to cry. But despite her best efforts Weese's switch and kicks drew forth her tears. It doesn't matter what you do to me you whoreson. Tomorrow you'll be dead! The beating lasted for near on ten minutes before Weese, red faced and gasping, gave a final kick and threw the switch at Arya's head.
Arya crawled into her bed and recited her names. "Weese," she whispered for the last time. After some thought she added. "The Mountain," one last time as well, he might still be walking but he was already dead he just didn't know it yet.
Instead of kicks it was screams that woke Arya the next morning. She pulled herself up with a curse as the welts and bruises on her body screamed against the straw bedding. She saw a serving woman fleeing Weese's chamber. With a groan Arya pushed herself to her feet and tottered to the door.
Weese and his bed were covered in blood. With a snap of her jaws the Weese's little spotted bitch took another bite out Weese's neck.
"Had that bitch since she was a pup." Someone said behind Arya.
"This place is cursed," said another. "Twill be good to leave."
A man shouldered Arya aside and took aim with a crossbow. He shot the dog as she began to worry Weese's neck. Arya stepped back and turned away from the dead man and the dead dog. She expected to see Jaqen watching with fingers on his cheek, like with Chiswyck, but no the walls were empty, save for more servants wanting to see proof of Weese's death themselves.
Arya did see Jaqen that day. He was in the company of the Bloody Mummers as they rode out of Harrenhal in the van commanded by Ser Addam Marbrand. The Mountain and his men rode with them. As Jaqen rode through the gates he raised a hand and extended two fingers.
With Weese dead there was no one to give Arya or the other servants commands, or rather no one for the rest of the day at least, so Arya spent her time on the walls watching endless lines of infantry and cavalry leave Harrenhal. The van had started leaving in the morning and had finished by noon. The main force under Lord Tywin himself marched a few hours after that. Taking the rest of the day to do so. The host left by the main gate and then turned west.
No one knew where the host was going, Arya had overheard Goodwife Amabel saying that Lord Tywin meant to take Riverrun, while Pinkeye said Lord Tywin was going to the west to trap the Young Wolf in the mountains and crush him, and Ben Blackthumb the smith said Lord Tywin was heading west to trick enemy scouts and that soon he'd go back round the God's Eye and fall on Lord Stannis, who had killed his brother Lord Renly, and was now marching on King's Landing.
It was Pinkeye who replaced Weese as understeward of the Wailing Tower. And Ser Amory Lorch who remained to garrison Harrenhal with three hundred men. Harrenhal had seemed vast with twenty thousand men within it's walls, but now it seemed empty. Only the Wailing Tower remained in use the rest were abandoned again to be the domains of bats and rats.
Pinkeye proved to be an easier master than Weese. He was no less foul mouthed but despite his threats and his drink fueled rages he never beat any of the servants. One would think that with far fewer people there would be far fewer tasks. But Arya was a busy as ever running errands for Pinkeye that sent her all over the castle. But Pinkeye was lax enough that Arya could often slip away and sit atop the walls to watch sunrise or sunset where she would break her fast or have her supper.
It was because of that that Arya was the first to see the growing cloud of dust to Harrenhal's north. A minute later horns blew to summon the garrison. From where she sat Arya saw Ser Amory Lorch huff and puff his way to the walls and take aim with a Myrish Eye. Was Blackthumb right is Lord Tywin coming back? Or did Robb beat him?
Ser Amory gave her the answer. The bandy legged knight returned the eye to it's leather sheath. "Bolton," he said. "And ten thousand cattle-fucking, frozen dicked, Northmen with him."
Arya stayed up late watching the northern army gather around Harrenhal and lay siege.
Catelyn
Since arriving at Riverrun Catelyn spent most of her time in her father's solar, sitting beside him in the wheeled chair Edmure had had fashioned, watching the Tumblestone and the Red Fork meet below the walls of Riverrun. Beyond the rivers were fields and forests and hills. And far in the east she could see a haze on the horizon that Edmure told her was smoke. Lord Tywin was on the march from Harrenhal, and once more the Riverlands would suffer and burn.
Edmure met with her every night to talk, usually about the war, but on other things as well, their childhood, Lysa, Petyr, Ned, her children. He spoke on how he had gathered eleven thousand men to meet Lord Tywin if he tried to cross the Red Fork. How his outriders, led by Marq Piper, were scouting and skirmishing with Lord Tywin's raiders, chief among them Ser Gregor Clegane and the Bloody Mummers led by the foul Qohorik, Vargo Hoat.
It was evening now and she had eaten her supper alone, save for her father and Septa Gisella who watched over her. For a few days she had tried to tempt the septa into conversation but the younger woman was overly courteous and too shy to speak comfortably with her queen.
Edmure was late today, but she had expected that, Maester Vyman had told Catelyn that her brother was riding to inspect the fords, and the men who held them, near Riverrun. This had been mentioned when Maester Vyman came to examine her wounds. According to Vyman they were almost healed and soon only scars would remain. Scars and this damned chair!
From her position on the balcony Catelyn could see the gates of Riverrun begin to open, but it was not the fish-crested helms and blue and red cloaks of Tully men who rode through the gates. Rather these men wore simpler armour and bore worn white and grey cloaks, stained red and brown in places. In the midst of this mass of riders was Robb, auburn haired and red bearded with Grey Wind at his side. Her son dismounted and passed the reins of his horse to his squire. He walked out of the courtyard and Catelyn's sight.
Twas not long before the door to her lord father's solar opened letting Robb enter. Before he could say anything her son was pushed aside by the great grey bulk of Grey Wind who crossed the room in a single great leap. She heard Robb laugh and Septa Gisella shriek as Grey Wind buried his nose into her stomach and then turned his head up to lick her face. Her chair creaked alarmingly as it skidded over the stones of the balcony and was rammed into the carved stone trout railing.
"Down Grey Wind," commanded a chuckling Robb as he pulled the beast off of Catelyn by the scruff of his neck. He paused when he saw the chair. "Mother. I. I'd heard what happened but I could scarcely believe it," he pushed the chair to the center of the balcony and pulled a chair of his own over. "I came as soon as I heard we abandoned the siege of the Crag. The stories are mad half the rumours say Stannis had dragons the other half say wildfire." He put a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"
"It was not wildfire or dragons, at least not of the kind you're thinking of. But I don't know what else to call them but dragons. They spewed fire and smoke and killed at a great distance far farther than any trebuchet ever built. With them Lord Stannis destroyed a host four times the size of his own and brought the survivors into his fold. My son I have seen the power Stannis has at his command and I tell you there is no army in the Seven Kingdoms that can stand against him." Catelyn was almost in tears by the end.
"What would you have me do? Bend the knee to Stannis? To the man who almost killed you?" Robb shook his head. "No mother I will not kneel. Not to Stannis."
"Please. Please don't fight him."
Robb grimaced as if in pain. "I can make no promises. I can say only that I have no plans to march against Stannis." Robb stood. "I'll see you again on the morrow. Tonight I have business with my vassals. Good night mother."
Catelyn clenched her hands, digging her nails into her hands, and said nothing.
Septa Gisella approached. "Your Grace do you need-"
"Get out."
"Your Grace?"
"Get out!"
Septa Gisella left leaving Catelyn alone with her father and the setting sun.
The next day her uncle came to see her first. He looked at his sleeping brother first. "I think this is the most quiet he's been in decades." The grey haired knight turned to Cat. "Robb and I spoke last night."
"About what?"
"About the war. About what happened to you and about what you said to him."
"I spoke the truth about Stannis."
"I don't doubt you think you do. But whatever weapons Stannis has they're only weapons. Even if they're as powerful as the dragons of old, what does it matter. Dorne fought them. Dorne beat them and so can we." Her uncle straightened as he spoke. "I wish Stannis luck in his campaigns the North is vast and far from Dragonstone."
Catelyn frowned. "The Riverlands are not."
"Stannis must fight the Lannisters and the Tyrells first."
"And Robb must fight the Ironmen or else lose the North and if he goes then Tywin and Stannis will take the Riverlands. What did you say to me before I left that the first rule of war, "is never give the enemy his wish," so what is Robb to do when every choice is the wish of one of his enemies?"
"You want him to sit in Riverrun and do nothing? Or else bend the knee to the man who maimed you? Have you no pride?"
"Have you no sense, " Catelyn shot back. "The Riverlands are all but spent and Ironmen reave half the North with impunity."
Ser Brynden shook his head. "You'll see Cat, Stannis and Tywin will break each other and will have to accept Robb and King in the North and King of the Trident."
Catelyn gave a bitter laugh. "Stannis will destroy us."
Brynden shook his head. "You're hurt Cat. You're in pain. You're not thinking right. Perhaps when you've calmed down we can speak some more. Goodbye." Her uncle stood and left her.
From her place on the balcony Catelyn saw riders coming to and from Riverrun. She saw companies of riders on both sides of the Red Fork. Clouds of dust and smoke on the horizon marked where armies marched and where the Riverlands were burning. Edmure came to see her in the evening as he always did.
He looked at Hoster as he sat. "Was he awake at all today?"
"For a little at midday, he kept calling out for Tansy, whoever that is."
"I've never heard of a Tansy, mayhaps I'll ask Uncle Brynden about it. See if he knows anything." Edmure fell silent. "Robb isn't happy about what you said to him and to Brynden."
"If they don't want to see the truth I can't make them."
"Neither of them want to admit that this war can be lost."
"And you can?"
"When I was captured by the Kingslayer I knew the war was lost. I was wrong then. Now I'm not sure." He gazed south to where faint clouds of smoke scuttled across the horizon, "Ser Marq's and Uncle's outriders finally pierced the raiders Lord Tywin sent out. He's not marching west. He's turned south toward the Reach."
"He'll seek an alliance with the Tyrells then. Another fifty thousand swords."
"Less than that. Half of Renly's foot went over to Stannis."
"So Robb is only outnumbered two-to-one instead of three-to-one."
"If he brings all his strength yes..." Edmure sighed. "He's planning to go south will all the horse and the eleven thousand I gathered to defend to Red Fork. Some seventeen thousand men all told."
"What of Lord Bolton he has ten thousand men does he not?"
"Yes ten thousand men or close enough Lord Roose lays siege to Harrenhal as we speak. Robb means to smash Tywin in the field and then force the Lannisters and the Tyrells to consent to peace. Then he and uncle will go north take back Winterfell from the Greyjoys and throw the Ironmen out. You're to stay here until it's safe for you to go to Winterfell."
"I don't get a say?"
"No. It's one of the few things everyone at the council agreed on. You have to stay safe. You've suffered enough in this war."
"Everyone has suffered enough."
They sat there brother and sister late into the night watching their father die and their kingdom burn.
Sansa
The ride through King's Landing was quick and boring, for which Sansa was very thankful. She had had her fill of excitement in the riot two days earlier. She was kept in a covered wagon, supposedly for her own safety. Sansa shared the wagon with several other ladies including the ladies of Stokeworth, Tanda and her elder daughter Falyse, the younger Stokeworth sister Lollys was still missing. Most thought her dead.
The wagon rolled through the night and in the early hours of the morning stopped to allow its riders to rest. Sansa stepped from the wagon with the aid of one of her guards, she said a mindless courtesy as she released his hand. King's Landing was far from sight but the eastern wind brought the stink of the city with it.
The party made a circle from the wagons and made their tents and fires within. Sansa shared her own tent with pair of her ladies-in-waiting.
Sansa was one of the last to wake after the sun had risen. Today she was allowed to ride a horse rather than sit for endless hours in a wagon. A pair of mounted guards were never far from her. It's not as if I have somewhere to go. Without Dontos there is no hope of my escape. Without even the faintest hope of escape Sansa allowed her mare to meander from one side of the caravan to another as they followed the Gold Road west.
On the third day from King's Landing Sansa found herself riding next to Ser Balon Swann. Their guards mingled behind them and the Stormlands knight nodded to her from atop his courser.
"Good morn my lady. Might I speak with you for a time?"
"Of course Ser, it would be my greatest pleasure."
"I imagine it was a great pain for you to learn that our king has broken his betrothal to you in favour of Lady Margaery."
"My love for His Grace is eternal. Even if he no longer wishes to marry me I will always be his loyal servant."
"Even though your lord brother has risen in rebellion?"
"My brother is a rebel and a traitor."
"An admirable thought my lady and one I hope to hold myself to as well." At Sansa's raised eyebrow he continued. "My brother is in Lord Stannis' army and I think my father is like to swear his fealty to him."
"I shall pray for their safety Ser, and when the war is won that King Joffrey should show them mercy."
"I fear that that would take quite a lot of prayer for that," muttered Ser Balon. He offered Sansa a crooked smile. "I shall make the same prayers for your family as well my lady. Fare thee well." Ser Balon gave a low bow from his saddle.
"And you Ser." Sansa replied as Ser Balon rode away. His guards followed him, shouting farewells to her own minders.
That would not be the first time Ser Balon came to see Sansa. He was always courteous and polite, ever acting the perfect knight, but Sansa knew he wanted something. Everyone always wanted something.
On the noon of the tenth day he asked. "Do you like riding my lady?"
"Not particularly," she admitted. "But tis better than staying in the wagon all day. Of my family it is my sister Arya who loves to ride."
Ser Balon was silent for several long moments. "Some of the other highborn and I were planning to go on a little hawking trip tomorrow, after we cross the Blackwater. Would you like to join us?"
"I would love to my lord," Sansa said courteously but without much sincerity.
They crossed the Blackwater early the next day passing over the Gold Lions Bridge. It had been built by King Jaehaerys the bridge had had stone statues of lions plated in gold. But the gold was gone now, and the statues were deformed by weather and time.
Sansa and Ser Balon rode into the countryside not long after accompanied by the Stokeworth ladies, the Redwyne twins, a dozen lesser knights and ladies, and half a hundred guardsmen. Queen Cersei and King Joffrey deigned not to grant them the honour of their presence though little Prince Tommen rode with them accompanied by the old and fat and jowly Ser Boros.
It was Ser Hobber Redwyne who made the first kill of the day his hawk bringing in a plump rabbit. Tommen cried when he saw the rabbit and had to be taken back to the caravan. Ser Balon made a pair of kills a lean hare and a plump grouse, Ser Horas caught a partridge, and the hedge knight Ser Lothar Brune took down a brace of pheasants. Sansa herself was mostly content to simply ride and enjoy the fresh air of the borderlands between Reach and West and Riverlands. Though her own falcon did bring down a small partridge.
They ate well that night with the quarry of the hunt roasted over the fires or else turned into soups and meat pies. All done by the dozen cooks brought by Queen Cersei. As the sun fell and the fires grew brighter wine and ale began to flow. The men drank and sang around the fires and the more they drank the louder they sang. Sansa politely had a small cup of wine, a Dornish red she was told, but had no desire to drink herself silly like she had that day at the Trident. She retired from the festivities when she saw Joffrey begin to partake of the wine. She had no desire to be his plaything. Not tonight.
She woke the next morning to the smell of smoke. Worried, she clambered out of the tent and saw that the cloud of smoke was being blown south over the land by a cold north wind. She grabbed the attention of a nearby guard, a dark haired and dark eyed wolfish man in mail and boiled leather.
"What's happening? Where's this smoke coming from?"
"The Riverlands my lady. This is what war smells like."
"Are we in danger?"
"I doubt it. A good wind will carry smoke from the North to Dorne, we'll likely never see whoever started these fires.."
Sansa nodded. "Thank you, Ser."
"I'm no Ser m'lady, just a sellsword."
But the sellsword was wrong. As the caravan travelled south the smell of smoke only grew thicker and the sky grew darker. When Sansa crested the top of a low hill she turned north and saw the dark clouds rising from the north. Movement on the horizon drew her eyes. A shadow on the earth moving south. Mother have mercy.
Before the caravan had, for the comfort of the king and queen, been moving at a leisurely pace now everything unnecessary was abandoned as they made all haste for the safety of Goldengrove. Wagons were abandoned and enough horses to carry them all were bought or stolen from the smallfolk in their path.
As sleep was restricted to only a few hours a night exhaustion bore down on Sansa. Even Joffrey had lost his usual pout in favour of blank exhaustion. Queen Cersei's hair was tattered and greasy, much like Sansa's own. Ser Balon Swann's charming smile was replaced by a rough black beard.
After three days and nights of almost no sleep Sansa was almost too tired to notice that her mare had ceased to walk. Voices roused her attention. She looked and saw men on horseback, whom she'd not seen before. They had trees on their surcoats. Golden trees on silver. The banner of House Rowan, have we reached Goldengrove?
A decent meal and a good night of sleep revealed that they had not reached the seat of House Rowan. Rather Lord Mathis Rowan had come to them, bringing thousands of men with him. Sansa had never seen so many soldiers in one place before and only King's Landing itself could rival the sheer numbers of men and animals, and the stench that followed them.
Sansa was honoured with a position of some respect when Lord Mathis received King Joffrey with all the respect due to his station. A hundred knights flanked the lord and the king in burnished silver and gold armour bearing waving banners of Rowan's golden tree, and Joffrey's lion and stag.
Joffrey, freshly bathed and dressed in a silken doublet, strode towards the kneeling Lord Mathis, he stopped a pace away and stood quietly.
Lord Mathis broke the silence. "Your Grace I, humbly and sincerely, welcome you and your court to my camp." He paused and bowed even lower. "I offer you my eternal devotion and fealty. Ask what you will of me. My sword, my service is yours."
Joffrey clasped Lord Mathis by his shoulders and lifted him up. "Rise my lord. You have done much to bring honour to the realm and your house. Rise a champion of the realm. Rise my Master of Laws. Rise my lord and lend your sword to my cause. Strike down the usurpers and the rebels."
"As you will it Your Grace, so shall it be."
The host from the north came the next day marching in long thin ranks through the wheat fields.
Again Sansa was given a place of honour to watch their arrival. She watched as King Joffrey, Queen Cersei, Lords Rowan, Baelish, and Varys awaited them. Sansa caught a glint of light from the top of the hill, sunlight on steel. The sound of marching feet was deafening as glints gave was to the steel itself. The steel of spear and lance and pike and halberd. Men and horses marched down the hillslope a tide of steel and cloth. Thousands of armed and armoured men. On their surcoats and barding were unicorns, burning trees, boars, hounds, sea shells, and lions. The golden lion of Lannister. Lord Tywin had come.