Chapter 3: Battles and Negotiations

Robb rode swiftly, as if the effort could help calm his thoughts. He was playing a dangerous and bold game, but he was fairly confident it could work.

If his mother could negotiate with Renly before he clashed with Stannis, and if Renly agreed to march northwest to help him against the Lannisters, instead of northeast to besiege King's Landing... and if Tywin took the bait and left Harrenhal to chase him and protect his lands...

Damn it—he thought—there are too many "ifs" in my plan. Let's focus on the things I can control. Going into the Westerlands and ravaging them, defeating the reinforcements the Lannisters were preparing, without getting discovered.

He quickly glanced to his right and left. The cavalry columns, the vanguard of his troops, were commanded by Roose Bolton and Rickard Karstark, respectively.

Gods, help me...

Arya Stark stepped out of the hall in Harrenhal, where she had been serving as cupbearer for Tywin Lannister. The old lion had guessed that she was an educated girl, but she had managed to pass herself off as the daughter of a cloth merchant from the North, who had come with Robb Stark's troops in search of trade, only to be killed by the Mountain during a raid.

Once outside, she returned the cups to the kitchens, then, with a certain discretion and no particular hurry, she made her way to where Hot Pie was baking bread; then she headed toward the smiths' quarters, where Gendry had been put to work, making use of his skills, forging and repairing swords, shields, and armor for those same Lannisters—what irony—who would have killed him if they had known he was the same boy the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing had been hunting.

Finally, to pass the time, she pretended to loiter in the vast courtyard... where her eyes met those of the former Night's Watch prisoner who had introduced himself as Jaqen H'ghar. He was doing heavy repair work alongside his two companions, Rorge and Biter. She acted as though she hadn't noticed them, but the man with the red hair gave her a knowing look as she passed by.

That man made her feel uneasy. He had made her some sort of proposal, and although she wasn't entirely convinced he could actually carry it out... perhaps one day she would test him, if necessary.

She sat in a corner, alone, as much as was possible in that enormous castle, and mentally began reciting her list:

"Ilyn Payne, Meryn Trant, Amory Lorch, Weese, Chiswyck, Tickler, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling, Gregor Clegane, The Hound, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei."

Catelyn was worried and in a hurry, but that didn't stop her from being cautious.

She was aware that, although it was a relatively safe journey from Riverrun to the Reach, there was a narrow stretch that brought her brother's lands dangerously close to the Westerlands to the west and the Crownlands to the east, so she preferred not to take any chances.

Equally challenging was choosing the right road to take. According to the latest reports, Renly and his colossal army had stopped at Bitterbridge, in the lands of House Caswell in the Reach, to celebrate a grand tournament in honor of his coronation (madness, thought Catelyn), but just recently they had set off east to lay siege to King's Landing.

Though the news had only just arrived that Stannis was besieging Storm's End, there was only one road the young would-be king, with his army of nearly a hundred thousand men, could have taken: the Kingsroad, which cut the Reach in half and then, crossing with a coastal road in the Kingswood, veered northeast toward King's Landing.

The infantry had to move more slowly, so it would have made sense for them to travel on a road; they must have already been on it when they received word of Stannis.

In that case, Catelyn reasoned, if I were Renly (or rather, one of his more sensible advisors), I would continue east until just past Tumbleton, then leave the main road and head south, taking dirt roads. Though they would travel more slowly, they would, once they reached Storm's End, be able to rejoin the Kingsroad to reach the capital from south to north.

A long detour in any case, but it was the only way not to lose too much time, making the infantry travel on a cobblestone road for most of the journey.

Her predictions proved correct. Catelyn's small escort group reached Renly's army at Felwood, just south of the Kingswood in the Stormlands. Several days had passed since their departure, but they had traveled swiftly, safely, and, most importantly, in secret.

When Dacey Mormont returned from her scouting mission to announce that she had spotted them, she seemed unusually excited, which was odd for her. Although not cold by nature, the warrior woman was generally quite composed. But then Catelyn understood when she crested a hill and saw it.

Tents upon tents as far as the eye could see, so many that they obscured the city and the forest behind, casting shadows in the light of the setting sun. Renly Baratheon truly had one hundred thousand men, along with a good number of servants, merchants, quartermasters, and camp followers.

"Gods," prayed Lady Tully, "please let this army align with my son and not against him."

She spurred her horse, and the entire group began to ride, crossing the vast grassy plain that separated them from the camp.

Within three-quarters of an hour, they were brought to the gigantic pavilion that everyone referred to as King Renly Baratheon's, First of His Name.

It had not been difficult to be recognized, declare peaceful intentions, and request an audience, after all. The hard part began now.

Richly decorated guards led them inside—Catelyn, Dacey, Smalljon, Wendel Manderly, and Lucas Blackwood—while Robin Flint, Perwyn Frey, and Hallis Mollen remained outside with the escort's men-at-arms. They announced her presence: Catelyn Tully, widow of Stark, requested an audience with King Renly Baratheon and his Queen, Margaery Tyrell.

It was the first time Catelyn had seen either of them, though she only vaguely remembered Mace Tyrell, Margaery's father, who had grown balding and heavier with age.

"She is quite lovely," Catelyn thought, "even radiant, truly. It's no wonder tales of her beauty have spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He has charm too, but it's only surface-deep, I fear."

Beside the two rulers and the father-in-law stood a strikingly handsome warrior with light brown curls and an enormous woman in chainmail, taller and larger than even Dacey (who was still much more feminine), with a homely face and short, dirty yellow hair.

Despite being informed of the visit at short notice and likely having to delay their dinner, the King and Queen were perfect hosts, showing no signs of inconvenience to their unexpected guests and behaving with exquisite courtesy, as if they were the oldest of friends.

Both stood up and quickly came to meet her, smiling and shaking her hands as if they were one entity.

"Lady Stark, your visit is as unexpected as it is welcome," said the young King.

"Honored to meet you, Lady Stark. At your service," echoed the young Queen.

"Your Graces, Ser Renly, Lady Margaery, I am most grateful for your hospitality," Catelyn responded.

"KING Renly and QUEEN Margaery," corrected the curly-haired youth with a sharp tone.

Renly shot him a light-hearted, reproachful look, smiling. "Come now, Loras, we can't expect everyone in the Seven Kingdoms to recognize us as King and Queen until we are seated on the Iron Throne. Forgive my wife's brother's rudeness, my lady. He is a great warrior—I wouldn't have made him Captain of my Kingsguard otherwise—and a true gentleman, I assure you. But he is young, and like many men his age... impulsive." Concluded, looking at him briefly.

"And besides," he added with a sly glance toward her, "we are speaking to an equal, are we not? I must commend your son, your ladyship: the echoes of his victories against the Lannisters have reached even the Reach and delighted us all. No wonder his vassals chose to name him... what is it? King of the North and King of the Trident? Very evocative. Very fitting."

"To him, it's all a game," Catelyn thought, "a spoiled child used to getting everything with his pretty face, playing at war. And playing only because he is sure to win."

"Allow me also to offer my condolences for your loss, Lady Stark," added Margaery with a half-bow and a face so contrite that Catelyn was tempted to believe her sincerity. "Lord Eddard's death has shaken all Seven Kingdoms."

"An ignoble crime for which the Lannisters will pay," Renly promised her.

Loras knelt before Catelyn, fist to his heart, soon followed by the blonde woman.

"I apologize for earlier, my lady. And I assure you that as soon as we take King's Landing, I will personally bring you Joffrey's head."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Ser Loras. And while I thank you for your solidarity and support, I assure you it makes little difference whether you or my son bring me Joffrey's head... it will not bring back my Eddard."

"Though I knew him as an enemy many years ago, Eddard Stark was a valorous and honorable man," interjected Mace Tyrell, who had been ignored until now. "I believe there are many things we must discuss. But you must be weary from your journey, and I think we can postpone the conversation until after dinner."

The dinner was extravagantly lavish, served on gold-plated dishes and cutlery, as were the goblets, which greatly surprised the frugal Northerners and the more modest Riverland knights.

During the meal, Catelyn and the others learned that the blonde warrior was Brienne of Tarth, only daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Evenfall Hall on the Sapphire Isle. While a female warrior was not entirely unheard of in the Seven Kingdoms—ancient legends recalled several, and even after the Conquest, there were famous ones, like Jonquil Darke, the Scarlet Shadow, who had been Queen Alysanne the Good's sworn shield—it was rare enough to spark curiosity.

When it was revealed that she had joined the Rainbow Guard—Renly's personal Kingsguard—by winning a melee at the Bitterbridge tournament and defeating none other than Loras in the final, Dacey Mormont shot her a look of curiosity and respect. In the North, it was somewhat more accepted for women to bear arms, though it was still uncommon, and Bear Island was a notable exception to the rule in terms of frequency.

Margaery did not miss the mutual acknowledgment between the two warrior women, and at the end of the feast, she took both of them by the arm—much to their embarrassment—and led them out of the pavilion, under the pretext of "Telling this helpless maiden the grim tales of two warriors, while their guests discuss important matters." Mace and Loras exchanged knowing looks with their King and left with the other guests.

Catelyn was left alone with Renly, though she had no doubt that the exits were swarming with guards.

"So, Lady Catelyn, what does the Young Wolf want from me? I can imagine, more or less, but I prefer that you make your embassy in your own way."

"Lord Renly," Catelyn began, searching for the right words despite having rehearsed them thousands of times in her head over the past few days, "I assure you that my son, Robert Stark—named by my husband after his close friend, your brother the King—has no interest in politics south of the Neck or in the Iron Throne.

All he desires is justice for his father's murder, security for the North, and the safety of his family—his sisters being held hostage in King's Landing—and once this is achieved, he will return North without involving himself in any further struggles for power."

"Except," Renly interrupted with a sly smile, "for the fact that he has been proclaimed King in the North and of the Trident, correct? Forgive me, Lady Stark, you were born at Riverrun, were you not? If I remember correctly, it lies south of the Neck... part of the Seven Kingdoms, just like the North itself."

Catelyn had anticipated this objection, but she admitted it was difficult to respond to.

"His bannermen named him such. However..."

"Oh, don't strain yourself too much, my lady," Renly interrupted, amused. "I am well aware that what they say of him in King's Landing must be the same as what they say of me. A usurper defying the rightful King, Joffrey Baratheon, who was recently orphaned by our dear hero, Robert. A touching story for the ignorant masses.

If we didn't know that Joffrey and his siblings are bastards born of incest. Yes, I can confirm it to you: my brother Stannis' letters are true. Your husband Eddard had uncovered the truth and came to tell me directly—likely, Jon Arryn had discovered it too, and that led to his death—just before he was captured by Cersei's soldiers on that ridiculous charge of treason. It's sad to say, but if your husband had supported my claim to the throne back then, he might still be alive."

Yes, and you abandoned him and ran like a rabbit because he didn't agree to help you usurp your older brother, Catelyn thought, though she was careful not to say it aloud. Instead, she said:

"I knew Eddard like the back of my hand, and I'm certain he had nothing against you. He likely just considered it proper to support Lord Stannis' claim by birthright, in an effort to avoid further bloody conflicts for the realm."

"STANNIS!" Renly exclaimed sarcastically. "My dear brother on the Iron Throne! Can you imagine? A joke that's not even funny. Stannis Baratheon is the sternest, sourest, and least likable man in the Seven Kingdoms. A KING must be loved by his subjects, Lords and common folk alike. Primogeniture doesn't make a man a good king."

Nor does being loved by flatterers guarantee good governance, Catelyn thought, though she kept that to herself, too.

"Be that as it may, this conflict between brothers is madness, Your Grace. Forgive my bluntness. It's not eastward that you should be marching, against your own blood, nor northward against King's Landing—an undefended city, like a rotten pear waiting to drop.

It's westward you should be heading with this army. Join forces with my son and my brother to defeat Tywin Lannister, our true enemy, and then most of the work will be done.

Any discussion of who should sit the Iron Throne and which part of the Seven Kingdoms belongs to whom can be settled later. My old tutor used to say, 'You're counting your chickens before they hatch.' And he was right."

"Aye, Tywin Lannister is dangerous, I'll agree to that. But he doesn't have an army of a hundred thousand men like I do. Any contender would have to reckon with that.

Nor will I allow my brother to lay siege to MY castle while I take the Iron Throne. This detour has already cost us several days, but I intend to settle the matter first. Stannis never got over Robert giving me Storm's End while leaving him Dragonstone...but I won't go against my brother's wishes, not even in death.

As for the Young Wolf," Renly added magnanimously, "I acknowledge that he's doing a good part of the work. I won't forget that.

Once I've won, I'll ask only that he nominally recognize the Iron Throne's authority over the North—I won't ask him to kneel, that's so distasteful—and return the Riverlands to me, which will have nothing to fear from me. Then he can return to Winterfell and call himself Lord, King, or Emperor, for all I care. It makes no difference to me."

Gods, this man is even more conceited and vain than I thought. How can I persuade him? Wait, what had Myrella told me?

With spoiled children, you have to let them have their way so they can figure out for themselves where they went wrong, not confront them head-on. Let's see...

"As you wish, Your Grace. May I ask for just a couple of conditions?"

"If it's within my power to grant them, of course," Renly replied with an oily smile.

Catelyn approached the large military map of Westeros hanging in the tent and studied it for a moment. Then she pointed to a spot with her finger.

"Your plan to confront Stannis was to proceed only with the cavalry to Storm's End and leave the infantry here?" she asked.

"Exactly, that was the idea. I have twenty thousand cavalry out of one hundred thousand soldiers, and this detour has already cost us far too much time."

"Don't do it," Catelyn continued. "Wait until you've moved the entire army at least as far as the Bronze Gate. That way, the infantry can resume marching north along the Kingsroad at a good pace."

"I see what you're saying," Renly interjected. "The cavalry can either accept Stannis' surrender or... subdue him if necessary, and then still catch up with the infantry in time, while they've already gained some ground and saved time. Brilliant. And the second?"

"Here," she indicated a point slightly farther north. "Right in the middle of the Kingswood, the road forks; the main road continues northeast toward the capital, but a smaller one veers northwest, crossing four of the Seven Kingdoms, passing through Tumbleton, Stone Sept, and all the way to Hornvale.

I ask you to split your forces, since they are so vast, and certainly you don't need them all to take King's Landing. Send half of them west to assist Robb against the Lannisters."

Renly looked at her with surprise, respect, and even a bit of unease.

How could he refuse without losing face and admitting he wanted to let others fight his battles, or that he wouldn't be able to take King's Landing otherwise?

That was his weakness: he wanted to please everyone. He knew he was a coward, but he didn't want to appear as one.

Catelyn shot him a determined look.

"The wolves of the North don't kneel easily, Your Grace. But they do kneel…sometimes. Thorren Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror to spare his people from the dragons' fire...and I assure you that Robb Stark will kneel before the one who helped him save his people and his family, IF he has a debt of gratitude to him. And one more thing."

"What?"

Catelyn knew she had him now.

"When you take back King's Landing…I have two daughters being held hostage there. I want you to bring them back safely, unharmed. Do this, and both the North and the Riverlands will kneel before you…King Renly."

Robb didn't make a sound, just like the rest of his cavalry, as they advanced slowly, the horses' hooves wrapped to muffle the noise.

They had penetrated the Westerlands a week ago, burning and devastating fields and farms to give back to the Lannisters what they had done to the Riverlands. But their armies were large and could not go unnoticed.

Stafford Lannister, Tywin's first cousin, was training new troops gathered from the entire region to send as reinforcements to his lord. Their camp was set at Oxcross and was fairly well guarded, but Stafford wasn't known for being a great commander. It was likely that he had overlooked something.

Indeed, Grey Wind had found a small goat path through the hills, allowing them to bypass the sentries and fall on the camp by surprise.

Robb glanced at his bannermen, Rickard Karstark and Roose Bolton. They were there with him, ready, waiting for the supreme moment.

And Robb gave the order.

The men of the North stormed the Lannister camp in the dead of night, howling like a pack of wolves, while Grey Wind leaped from sentry to sentry, ripping out their throats in a flash before moving to the next, no doubt feeding the legends for years to come.

Robb himself led the charge from the front, inspiring the men by example. He attacked the center of the camp.

Bolton led the assault on the right flank, making a wide loop to prevent the men, once awakened, from trying to flee. The troops under his direct command were at the forefront. If the Lord of the Dreadfort felt any displeasure for that, he didn't show it.

Rickard Karstark commanded the left flank and seemed utterly possessed. Since his sons had been killed by the Kingslayer, he had a thirst for blood. Unable to slit Jaime Lannister's throat, he had to vent his rage elsewhere. He howled like a madman, terrifying to behold, his long, flowing white hair and beard blowing in the wind as he swung his double-bladed axe, cutting down men like stalks of wheat.

When he saw Ser Stafford emerge from his tent, half-armored and sword in hand, giving orders to try and repel the assault, he didn't hesitate: he spurred his horse and charged at him, and after a brief fight, he brought his axe down on his chest, killing him instantly.

Robb too was shouting, swinging his sword amidst the splashes of his enemies' blood.

He was happy. This was his element: not scheming, politics, or betrayals, no... war. Honest, raw, fair.

He was born to make strategies, rally his men, fight battles, and win them, and he would keep doing it.
In that moment, nothing could go wrong.

Catelyn was outside the tent they had assigned her, resting, standing against one of the poles. She felt exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Renly Baratheon hadn't expressly said "yes," but he had promised to think about it after consulting his generals the next day, and for now, that was enough for her. It was the only opportunity she had at that moment, and she had played it to the best of her ability. Now she had to hope that the gods would finally decide to be merciful.

"You're as magnificent as ever. Even in half-light."

THAT VOICE

Catelyn almost jumped. When she saw the person, for a moment she glanced left and right to see who was around and to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Then she opened her mouth to shout for help.

"Ssh, Cat… CAT! It's me, no need to scream. Of course, Renly knows I'm here. Do you think someone could enter a camp as big as a city without anyone noticing?"

Catelyn calmed herself and looked him up and down with disdain.

"Petyr Baelish. What are you doing here?" she asked coldly.

The Master of Coin and newly named Lord of Harrenhal (at least in name) stepped forward slowly with a smile, though the tone of her words had hurt him.

"What are you doing here, I suppose. I've come to negotiate. I and my entourage arrived a few days before you. Strange that Renly didn't mention it. Perhaps he's more clever than he seems.

You look… you look well, Cat."

If looks could kill, Catelyn Tully, widow of Stark, would have buried him on the spot.

"Don't you dare call me Cat, Baelish! You lost that right when you betrayed my husband to Cersei Lannister… to be killed like a dog!" she added, tears welling in her eyes, barely holding them back.

"I… that's exactly why I wanted to see you. To explain…"

"Explain WHAT?-by now, the tears were flowing freely, with no attempt to hold them back-that you betrayed Eddard? That you betrayed my trust? That you betrayed ME? When I think… that it was I who told him to trust you. How foolish. It was me… he died because of me."

"No, Catelyn, I assure you, I… perhaps Renly told you, or maybe he didn't… when he learned the truth, he told me everything. He needed help to stage a coup, to bribe the Gold Cloaks before the queen could… and I tried to convince Eddard to declare for Renly. I thought it was the best solution. But he wouldn't listen to me."

"Of course, because Eddard was an honorable man. Not that you would understand what that means, would you? And when he refused to play your games and declared for Stannis while Renly fled like a coward, you turned coat and handed him over to Cersei… yet you still stayed with the Lannisters, not with Renly? What, did they pay better?"

"Your words wound me, but I understand how upset you are. But I assure you… I ASSURE you I had no other choice. Stannis wasn't even in King's Landing, and he has no friends anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. He's finished, Catelyn, as proven by this madness of besieging Storm's End with just two thousand men, out of pure pride.

Anyway, when we tried,we discovered Cersei had already bribed all the Gold Cloaks. There was nothing more we could do. Get captured with Eddard… or pretend to side with them and stay alive. That was the only choice.

And I couldn't… I COULDN'T have imagined that Joffrey would be so insane as to decide to execute him, even at the cost of starting a war. Even Cersei didn't suspect that. We were all convinced that he'd send him to the Wall in exchange for Jaime's release. But by then, it was too late."

"So you made your choice."

Baelish looked at the ground for a long moment.

"I'm not cut out to be a hero. The one time I tried, your then-betrothed, Brandon, nearly killed me, remember?"

Catelyn softened for a moment. "Yes, I remember… and I'm sorry about that. Lysa, especially, was devastated. She always had… feelings for you."

Petyr smiled, seeing her calm.

"And I've always had feelings for you, whether you believe it or not. And I'll prove it to you by helping you get what you want."

"What I want is the end of this war and Joffrey's head on a spike-Catelyn declared, irritated, turning her back on him-how could you help me achieve that? Didn't you just come to negotiate for him with Renly, to stop him from burning the Capital? Or have you escaped here to betray Joffrey too?"

Petyr ignored her words, knowing he had the right card to play.

"Aye, I've come here to negotiate peace, with little success, I fear. But I can give you something else… what you truly want. Your daughters, safe and sound."

Catelyn whirled around, her large blue eyes wide open.

"Sansa and Arya? Have you seen them? Are they well?"

"They're well and both being pampered in King's Landing, I assure you-lied Petyr-I've personally seen to it that they have the most comfortable and secure chambers in the Red Keep… but I can bring them back to the North with you. All it takes is one word from you."

"I… you… the Queen… the Imp… they've refused every exchange offer."

"Exactly, because dear Robb hasn't offered the right prize. But we must understand him, mustn't we? It was his Bannermen who crowned him King… and they wouldn't tolerate seeing him lose their best leverage, or they'd take that crown off his head as quickly as they put it on."

Catelyn swallowed hard. She knew where Petyr was heading.

Gods, give me the strength to say no. What he's proposing is treason. Can I truly betray my son to get my daughters back?

"Jaime Lannister. Return the Kingslayer to me, and I guarantee you'll get Sansa and Arya back, whole and unharmed… and the war will end. No more massacres, no more Robb risking his life every day… you'll all return to Winterfell and live happily ever after."

"But… the Riverlands…"

"The Riverlands were never a target for Tywin Lannister, CAT. It was YOU who put a bullseye on your brother's lands the day you captured the Imp. I understand why you did it, but it was a truly foolish move.

Now you have a chance to make it right. You started this war by capturing one of Tywin Lannister's sons, and you can end it by freeing another.

Let Jaime go, return to the North with your children, and leave the Southern lords to sort out their own matters... Joffrey, Renly, Stannis—after all, what difference does it make which one of them sits on the Iron Throne?"

Author's Note:

The story is picking up pace, though I realize that for now, we're still following the usual sequence of events, at least in my version, rather than encountering anything wholly new. However, I liked the idea of rewriting the different parts and tweaking the dialogues for the time being.

Additionally, some of the details that may seem overly emphasized, such as geography, roads, troop composition, and travel time, have specific importance in the story—or rather, they will soon—and relate to a topic that has been debated for years: a specific, crucial, difference between the books and the TV series...

Game of Thrones has always been a series divided between "classic" war events, adventures of ordinary people in difficult situations, and a side more focused on politics, intrigue, betrayal, and espionage. This chapter reflects that dichotomy.

Catelyn is managing to influence Renly, but Petyr is influencing her... will things play out as in the original, or...?