Catelyn

There were ways that a noble woman was supposed to handle a sleepless night.

Most castles had side rooms that were a woman's own, just off the main bedchamber. It was here that a woman could retreat to so she didn't disturb her lord husband with her tossing and turning. Filled with books or sewing projects or sometimes the articles of the Seven if one wanted to seek peace through prayer. The more sinful might indulge in the drinking of wine, hoping that would bring them into a false sleep. But that was what was expected.

Its what Catelyn Stark had always done.

At first it was because she was terrified of her new husband. While not as large and looming as Brandon had been he was still a rather big Northsmen, grim and stern. She had worried endlessly that he would be terribly angry if she began to shift about in her sleep. And there was the fact that he needed his rooms to be bitterly cold to sleep and Catelyn, back then, hadn't learned how to properly bundle herself up against the chill. So while he laid with just a thin sheet over his nude form she would wake up, slip on a robe, and retreat to her room to read and then rest for a bit in the smaller bed that was prepared for her.

Later, when she had learned that Ned did not care if she tossed and turned and in fact would sit with her if she had trouble sleeping, talking with her and rubbing her back and running his fingers through her long red hair, she almost rarely used the room. When she did it had been when she had been pregnant with their children and even then Ned, more often than not, would join her in there. It was frowned upon, of course, as that was supposed to be HER room, but she was joined by him all the same.

But that night Catelyn didn't go to her room. Instead she rose and quietly dressed in as simple of a gown as she could find, for she wanted to garb herself on her own without any help, and she began to quietly make her way through the halls of Winterfell, not really having any plan in mind of where she would go.

She was careful never to be spotted. Catelyn had heard that the smallfolk believed that castles shut down utterly and completely in the middle of the night but that wasn't the case. It wasn't a matter of all going to bed and everything being quiet and still like the old tales claimed. No, there were always servants moving about, getting things ready for the next day. Cleaning this or that, replacing things like candles, and of course the cooks deep in the kitchen already hard at work on the breads and meats that would fill the bellies of all the guards, soldiers, servants, and of course the Starks themselves and their guests. As such Catelyn was careful in how she moved through Winterfell, always checking before she made her way around a corner or past an open door.

Sleep had failed to come to her because she had been worried about what might happen if she did fall asleep. While there had been no other episodes since that terrible night Catelyn lived in fear that she might awaken again to have found herself wandering about in her resting, endangering herself in some way. Perhaps trying to dive into the hearth or walking down some stairs. Most nights she was able to drive off that fear but she had found herself worrying about it endlessly and now…

'And now I find myself wandering the halls of my own home like I am some slippery catspaw trying to determine what I am going to snatch up,' she thought in annoyance.

She was nearly ready to give up and return to her room to try rereading some of the correspondence that her brother Edmure sent (how someone that was so spritely and energetic could write such boring letters, she would never know but they would do the trick in helping her drift to sleep) when she passed by a window and heard a whooshing sound. Looking out she was startled to see a figure in the training yard. Panic nearly filled her at a stranger, this late in the darkness of night, out there with a weapon but when she saw their wings she realized it was just Shireen.

'So many odd guests and I have spent such little time talking with them,' she thought. Jane Seaworth, or rather Jane Lokidotter as Shireen had commented was Jane's title now. The future Queen of Asgard. Queen of the Seven. After their conversation a while back they hadn't had a chance to speak with one another. Same with Shireen, who spent much of her time with Ned going over plans to prepare the North for the Others. 'Then there are the Guardians,' she thought with a shake of her head. 'Lyanna… or Gamora…' the green skinned woman seemed to always waffle back and forth on what she wanted to be called, '…we had one talk about… Jon… and that was it too. I have barely dealt with Yondu one on one and Drax-'

She scowled at that.

The conversation with Drax had most involved him making comments about how, even after birthing so many children, she still had 'a lovely ass' that any man would be pleased to shove their face in. He'd then asked if Ned would be willing to let him give it a try since he was supposed to be the one that claimed her…

Catelyn wasn't one for violence but she had been seriously tempted to drive her knee into his unprotected groin after that.

Her thoughts on their many guests must have guided her feet because Catelyn blinked when she found herself before a door that was not all on its own. No… there was a guard standing there, alert and ready even though it was dark out, and she nodded at him before, without giving a reason why, she entered into the room.

She wasn't surprised to find Ravan Targaryen sitting in a chair, reading a book.

The woman was in her natural form: blue scaly skin and slicked back crimson hair. She had at least put on a white dress, which was a relief for Catelyn as according to Arya Ravan (or 'Mystique' as Arya called her, same as how Ravan tended to call Arya 'Shadowcat' and Gendry 'Colossus'; Gambit was just 'Gambit' though) enjoyed walking around completely naked, seeing no issue with a lack of garments. When they allowed her out of her room she tended to take on a more Esssosi look, with tanner skin and dark eyes, but Catelyn had a sinking feeling that Ravan was out more often than they thought, and in different forms. It was only Arya promising that she wouldn't cause trouble that kept Catelyn from having a full blown panic attack about the shapeshifter wandering the halls.

That… and Sansa confirming she could smell her and would know if she was up to any tricks.

"I must admit," the woman said, never bothering to look up from the pages, "these Northern tales are far more interesting than I expected. Everyone outside of these lands think that the Northerners are too serious to have truly entertaining works of fiction." She looked up at Catelyn and smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile but it wasn't a wicked evil smile. It was… well… just a smile. A small one.

One that spoke of power.

Catelyn had never smiled like that since she had come to the North. There was no need for such games in these lands. But when she had acted as the Lady of Riverrun, doing all for her father that her mother had once done? Oh… she had flashed that smile many times. At guards who thought because of her age they didn't need to listen to her, just before she got their commanders to reassign them to dealing with the chamber pots and waste buckets. To visiting Lords who thought they could bluster and blather their way into getting an audience with her father when she'd already told them he was seeing to other matters.

It was the smile of a Queen, as her old Septa had told her.

"I was wondering when you or your Lord Husband would come to speak with me. I didn't expect it to be so late at night but then again I suppose that makes sense. Trying to throw me off guard."

"I couldn't sleep," Catelyn admitted, seeing no reason to lie to the woman; she seemed like one that would be able to read through a lie.

Ravan nodded and gestured towards a chair and Catelyn forced herself not to feel irritated; the woman was acting like she was the lady of the keep and Catelyn was some guest. Rather than the truth of it, even if they didn't say the words: Ravan was a prisoner.

'Though, is she truly when she can change into any shape, most likely slither and slink her way past any barrier, and has Arya around to break her out?'

That was the worst part of it, in Cat's opinion: her daughter wouldn't think twice to help Ravan escape. Had made it VERY clear to her and Ned that as long as Ravan didn't mind the room they had given her and the guard at the door she wouldn't act but the moment that she grew bored…

"Well, I suppose you have every right to be restless," Ravan stated. "We are in a time of great upheaval." She raised an eyebrow. "When were you going to tell me that the Others had returned?"

Catelyn cursed at that. "Who told you… Arya." She shook her head. Of course he daughter had told her that.

"No," Ravan stated, cutting off those thoughts. "It wasn't Arya." She smiled once more that sharp cunning smiling of her's. "You should have far more faith in her and her loyalty."

Catelyn didn't know why she said the next words aloud. She had better restraint. But she still found herself blurting out, "That is easy for you to say, when she would break you out of here in a heartbeat."

Ravan though merely raised an eyebrow at that. "And if the tables had been turned and you were held by my husband and I she would go to war against us to save you."

That made Catleyn want to wiggle in place like she was a scolded child.

Ravan gestured at the chair again and this time Catelyn actually sat down in it. "I think we need to discuss Arya."

"What is there to discuss?"

"Like it or not," Ravan stated, "I was there when she was at her most vulnerable. Without my aid she would have been captured by the Lannisters." Ravan hissed out there name, eyes flashing with wrath; Arya had told her about that rather casually. That the Brotherhood hated the Lannisters most of all because of their inability to trust them. Catelyn… didn't believe that was the case. Or the full case. She wondered if Ravan's dislike for them more came from the fact that Tywin Lannister and his daughter had managed to win the prize that Ravan and the rest of the Blackfyres were hoping to claim. The Iron Throne.

"I know," Catelyn said, bringing herself back to the present.

"No, you really don't," Ravan stated. "They came in with swords drawn. If she had fought them they would have had no issue with beating her. Perhaps claiming a piece off of her." Ravan at once held up her hand when Catelyn started. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm being honest."

"I… I used to have nightmares…" The dreams of what had happened to Arya, where she had gone to, her fate. Until Yondu had told them that Arya was fine and Rickon had confirmed it they had been so utterly terrified. Holding out hope she was alive but also… "I used to sometimes pray she was dead because it would be better than being trapped in a Black Cell, tortured by that little monster Joffrey."

Ravan didn't judge her for that comment. "Yes. Yes I… suppose it would be." She sighed and set her book down. "I have those nightmares too." She didn't shift or avert her eyes or anything like that. She continued to stare at Catelyn with a regal grace that made Cersei's queenly looks come off as the petulant glowers of a toddler. Which, Catelyn reflected, did actually suit her temperament rather well. "And I think that is the crutch of our predicament."

"Oh?" Catelyn said, keeping herself from retorting that their issue was that Ravan was married to a Blackfyre pretender and they were going to try and take over the Seven Kingdoms.

'Seven. Not six,' she thought to herself. 'The Targaryens were obsessed with Dorne. It drove them mad they couldn't claim it as part of their domain. Every Targaryen king attempted in some way to sway them into joining and in the end it was only through marriage they managed that. Ned will never agree to a marriage, even if Ravan offered it. The pain of what Sansa went through… it will never go away.' And she couldn't imagine that the Blackfyres would allow Ned to remain king. Arya had claimed to her that she had a deal in place, that they were fine. But she had been able to tell that her daughter was worried about the plan, scared that she hadn't fully thought it through. She had doubts and that was VERY good because Catelyn was positive that the Blackfyres would find some way to wiggle out of whatever deal Arya had made.

"We have a beautiful daughter," Ravan said.

Catelyn stiffened at that.

"Don't try and deny it," Ravan said. "You gave birth to her, yes, but I have raised her as well. I held her when she was terrified that the Lannisters would figure out who we were. I comforted her as she found herself a woman grown rather than a child. I have taught her many things and… she has taught me many as well." She looked at Catelyn, gaze fierce. "WE … have a lovely daughter. One that loves us both equally."

Catelyn forced herself to nod. Because that truly was the problem she now had to deal with. Her daughter had another mother that was… so very different from her. And she was going to be in competition with Ravan for the rest of their lives.

She hated it.

She hated the thought that her daughter had turned to someone else and seen them as a mother. It was part of the reason why Catelyn had never argued with Ned to foster the children. She knew it was unusual for families of their standing to not send their children out to be fostered, to build the relationships between the houses. There had been plenty who had offered and she had to admit that many of them would have been good for Arya. The Mormonts of Bear Island. The Manderlys of White Harbor. The Umbers of Last Hearth. She would have enjoyed being with any of them.

But Catelyn hadn't wanted Arya, her wild daughter who barely tolerated her some days as her mother, to cling to another and see them as a parent.

And somehow she'd still found herself in that situation.

"And we are going to have to accept that each of us is an important part in her life," Ravan stated. She leaned forward in her seat. "The maesters… they debate which is stronger: blood or environment. There are arguments for both sides, you know? They point to Aegon the Unworthy and state that it was his Esossi blood that made him as he was. That if his father had only married a proper Westerosi woman than he would have been a fine and just king. That his need for food and for whores and his delight in causing problems throughout the realm were always going to happen, no matter how he was educated and raised, because the pure blood of the dragon had been tainted.

"On the other hand… history is full of men with horrible fathers who, thanks to someone else stepping into the role of educator, became good and just and went on to do amazing things. Oswin Baratheon was a horrid drunk of a man, bitter and angry that his brother was made the Lord of Storms End instead of him. He abandoned his wife and his son and went to Essos to indulge in drink and in violence and eventually returned with a small army to try and take Storms End."

Catelyn nodded. She knew this story. "And his son, Ser Samgood Baratheon, was there to confront him."

Ravan nodded. "Samgood was raised by his uncle and his mother to be a good, just, kind man. He led his forces against his father and despite all of Oswin's attempts to goad him into violence he refused to become a kin slayer, instead bringing Oswin back to his lord uncle for judgment. Never once did he desire to rise above his station.

"The truth, I think, is that both are important. Blood is strong… there is a connection there that we simply can not understand. That we aren't meant to understand. Call it something by the Seven or something involving the deep magics or just sentimentality. But the fact remains that blood pulls one towards like blood. A child will always desire to know who their parents were, even if fostered with a loving couple that saw to their every desire. Brothers can be the fiercest enemies and yet weep for one another when the war is done.

"But those around them matter just as much. It is the fear all parents have." Ravan held her gaze. "Is there not a servant you worry about your children become too close to? Seeing them as someone that they can latch onto as someone of great importance? Did you not have one?"

"Septa Billa," Catelyn softly admitted. After her mother had died Catelyn had made it clear to all that she was the Lady of Riverrun and that she would manage her father's affairs within the castle. That even if he took another ladywife she would remain the Lady of Riverrun and any woman her father courted had best understand that. A foolish and brash notion, she saw that now, and one that would have led to heartache. But she had been young and determined and wanted to prove herself.

And she had no desire to have someone replace her mother.

Catelyn had been convinced that if she did a well enough job running Riverrun her father would have no need to marry again. There had also been the fear she had held for her little brother, having heard stories about noble women who married into families already established and attempted to force their children, the ones they had birthed, into positions of power within the family. Had the Dance of the Dragons not happened because of such an event?

But while she wasn't interested in a new mother… Septa Billa had filled the place within her heart where a mother would have occupied. She had been wonderful for her and Catelyn had loved her dearly, mourning when she had passed away only a month after Robb had been born due to a horrid coughing disease she had caught.

'Perhaps though that is why I selected Septa Mordane,' she thought to herself. 'She cared for Sansa and… well, she cared for Sansa, but she was never as loving as Septa Billa was.' It was a rather startling thought. A cruel thought. Robbing Sansa of a Septa she could have cherished and loved and instead one that cared for her but also used sternness to get what she wanted. 'What would life have been like if it had been Septa Billa who had been with the girls?' she wondered. That had been her dream, of course; she had only been four-and-forty when she had passed on, so she would have had many years to help Catelyn with the children. She would have been like a beloved grandmother, which would have been acceptable. 'Would Arya have been far better behaved with her? Would Bran have listened when she demanded he not climb the walls? Would Robb had stopped trailing after Theon and forced the Ba… forcing Jon Snow to be part of all he did?'

She didn't know.

"Arya," Ravan said, bringing Catelyn out of her thoughts, "went through many difficult things. Not all of them bad just… difficult. And she did them all with me. But… I also acknowledge that you are her mother and you have a connection with her that I will never be able to understand."

There was a wistfulness to her voice… sad but also hopeful.

Catelyn's eyes went wide. "You have a child. One you bore."

"…two," Ravan admitted. "I have not seen them in years. But… I know that we are connected. But I have also raised other children, not just Arya. And I know that such a connection is just as deep. You and I… we will have to come to an understanding. We will have to work out how we can work together. For Arya. Because she doesn't deserve to be torn apart."

Catelyn considered her for a long moment. "But she will be torn apart, won't she? Because your husband… will he even accept Ned?"

"The Starks bent the knee to the dragon before," Ravan pointed out. "It was only because Torrhen Stark demanded no honors other than being left alone that they received no spot on the Small Council."

Catelyn blinked at that, startled. "I… never heard…"

"Hmmm, I would think not," Ravan said. "The Targaryens did not like to admit their debts. There were a few that they would allow to lord such things over them… the Baratheons and the Veleryons, due to the ties they had. But otherwise they were loathed to admit when they were indebted to another house. After all, as the silly folk tales go, dragons do not give up riches, they horde them."

Catelyn nodded at that. She remembered that Lyssa in particular had loved tales of knights going to fight dragons… not the Targaryen ones but wild savage ones that burned grasslands and stole cattle. Such tales weren't supposed to be spoken of, for even though they no longer had their dragons the Targaeryns were still dangerous, but they were whispered all the same. How the brave knight would wound the dragon and send it flying off (Lyssa didn't like it if the dragon was killed) before going into its cave to find the mass of treasure it had gathered. And usually a princess or two.

"People talk of the Princess that was Promised… that a Targeryen Princess would marry a Stark Heir for their aid in settling the Dance. They also speak of how that never came to pass." Catelyn nodded at that; more than one member of the Royal Party had japed that Robert was determined to one up the Targaryens by making Sansa queen. "Or the Hour of the Wolf and the many promises made to Cregan Stark. But there have been other times the Starks aided the House of the Dragon… my ancestors didn't like to discuss it."

"That unfortunately does sound right," Catelyn admitted. 'There have been whispers of my father ignoring certain houses and the long standing debts made to them…'

"King Torrhen Stark was offered many things by King Aegon when he bent the knee. After all, while he had marshaled his forces against him he hadn't actually drawn his sword and Aegon was very much inclined to prove to Westeros he was a fair king. So he made many offers to the Northsmen. Some Torrhen accepted; the Starks were able to give away the cheapest of swords, nicked and blunted, to be made into the Iron Throne. Their true swords they were all allowed to keep, carried back to their homes. Brandon Snow, Torrhen's bastard brother, married into the Forrester Family and became their liege lord with Aegon's blessing-" Catelyn started at that; she had never heard that tale! "-and of course other small honors were given. But Torrhen's biggest request was that he and his people be left alone. They had never desired to become involved with the rest of Westeros, other than trade and allowing volunteers for the Night's Watch to pass through their lands. He asked that they be allowed to live their lives and Aegon accepted. Torrhen would bend the knee but he didn't want to be dragged into a thousand wars or deal with the politics of the South.

"There have been other times though. The Starks allowing the Vale and the Westerlands to move into their coastal waters to search for fish. Sending down lumber to assist in the making of ships. Advice given on the ways of the First Men when some Andal lord in the South thought themselves clever to use laws written by the First Men to claim this or that. Again and again the Targaryens have turned to the Starks and again and again the Starks made clear all they wished was to be left alone."

Catelyn frowned at that. "And… would your husband agree to that arrangement again?"

Ravan made a face. "Most likely not… but not for what you think." She was hiding something, Catelyn could tell, even as she said, "Arya is important to him too. He wouldn't wish to be forever separated from her… and I sense the North is where she belongs."

Catelyn had dreamed of her children marrying into the powerful houses of the South. Sansa married to Joffrey. Arya to perhaps a family in the Reach… she would have preferred one of the Great Houses but Sansa would have covered Lannister and Baratheon, Arryn and Stark and Tully were of course out, and Dorne was simply too far away. The Tyrells were a possibility but none of them had produced a son that was the right age so she had begun researching houses in the Reach that were lower in nobility and standing but wealthy and noble. She had found a few…

"Wait," Ravan said, suddenly sitting up. The movement was predatory, reminding Catelyn of how Sansa would sometimes suddenly sit up before growling. Gamora too, if she thought that there was trouble. It was the movement of a being built for killing preparing to do what they did best. "Something is wrong…"

There was a sudden commotion and the door to Ravan's room opened and the guard looked inside, almost… frantic.

"You must stay here, your grace," he replied and Catelyn was dimly aware that Ravan had shifted, clearly thinking the man was talking to her.

"What is going on?" Catelyn demanded.

The guard glanced to his left. "I am not for sure, your grace. But there is a commotion-"

And that's when the room directly across from them exploded.

The guard was sent flying at them, along with large chunks of stone. The famous waters that ran from the hot springs all through the walls of Winterfell were unleashed, sending a spray of burning water all over. Catelyn felt herself being flung to her left and it was only when she landed on a bed, head rattling like she'd been on a runaway horse, that she realized that Ravan had pulled her out of the path of the destruction.

Looking down at the guard Catelyn swallowed when she saw him lying still, not even twitching. Ravan though was already moving, running her hands along his neck. "He's alive."

"How… how do you-"

"I studied as a maester," she said. "Erik learned what he did from me. There are ways to know." She looked through the doorway towards the other room. "But I believe we need to focus on other matters."

Through the dust and the spray of water that was still coming from the shattered wall Catelyn was able to see that there was a fierce battle occurring within Winterfell.

"Not Ironborn," she whispered as she saw two figures flying through the sky. One had large wings that gleamed like polished black stone while the other she might have mistaken for the Iron Man if not for the fact that his armor was completely silver in color.

"Definitely not Ironborn," Ravan said as she picked up the sword that had fallen from the guard's hand and swung it a few times. Her flesh rippled and Catelyn found herself staring at a man of average height but with thick arms and a bull-like torso and neck. Catelyn stared at her, startled, but Ravan rolled her eyes. "I need a body that fits this sword," she said in a deeper voice that sounded vaguely Westerlandish. "Now come on."

"What… what are we-"

"Do you not have a room you can retreat to if there is an attack?" Ravan asked. "Someone place deep in the castle, with plenty of supplies?"

Catelyn honestly didn't know.

Ravan let out a huff of annoyance at that. "Come along, we'll find something that works." She grabbed her hand and began to drag her out of the room and down the hall, Catelyn barely managing to avoid tripping over the rocks and rumble that covered the floor. "You Starks are supposed to be overly cautious… how do you not have something already planned?"

"I…" Catelyn felt foolish. It made sense, after all, to have such a room for the women and children. She knew that Riverrun had one… a secret room with a hidden doorway that would lead out to the Trident. Only if you knew where to look for it would you be able to notice it… and it hadn't been used in so long that no one living actually knew where it was on the outside. Catelyn had tried to determine its location when she was a child but never managed. She did know though that the wall-like gates were so thick that no army could hope to get through them, even if they managed to drain the river so that a ram could be set up. But inside, amongst the supplies set up for the women, there was a wheel and pulley system that would allow two women of decent age to swing the doors open and escape out of the side of Riverrun.

The Starks HAD to have something like that. A hidden place for protection. A place where one could put those that they needed to watch over. A place no one would-

"The Crypts," she suddenly realized. It made complete sense when she thought about it and she dimly wondered why Ned hadn't mentioned it to her. Or the children. Did he simply not realize it? Perhaps… yes, he had left home when he was young and spent years in the Vale. It was entirely possibly that he had forgotten. Yondu would be able to tell her if he had told Ned…

She saw a blurring shape suddenly leap in the air only to be attacked by the winged figure, the two disappearing from view.

'Of course that would require him to be available to speak to us,' she thought.

"The Crypts?" Ravan said before nodding slowly. "The Starks never waste a thing." Others might have been insulting with such words but Catelyn could tell that Ravan meant them respectfully. "They are deep, plenty of places to store food and water, and most likely they built some way to get out of them if disaster struck."

The entire castle shook.

"Like now," Ravan said, making a face of bemusement that didn't belong on the grim visage she was currently wearing. "Right… is there anyway into the Crypts other than through the main entrance?"

Catelyn felt herself freeze up. It was like someone had placed her in the Summer Isles and told her to find where they were to have dinner. She was a foreigner in a strange land and-

'Breathe,' she mentally hissed at herself. 'Breathe. This has been your home for years. You know it. Just think.'

But it was so hard to do so when the entire castle was rattling and shaking and she could hear the panic coming from the guards.

"I AM GROOT!"

A white tree branch suddenly launched itself past the hole in the castle wall and Catelyn got the impression of a brown furry thing riding on it before there was a cry and she saw Gamora slam into the wood, causing it to tremble and crack, Groot's bellows filling the air as Rocket cursed before all three of them disappeared completely from view.

"Where is the entrance!" Ravan snapped.

"I… let me think-"

"We don't have time to think!" Ravan shouted, throwing her hands into the air. "We need to get moving NOW! Everything has gone to shit and we need to get you to safety!"

Catelyn glowered at her. "I don't make a habit of going down to the Crypts."

"And it is costing us greatly at the moment!" Ravan complained bitterly. "Fine then, we'll try and make for-"

Another blast ripped past them, forcing Raven to leap back from Catelyn. She turned… and started into the face of a monster.

It was in the form of a large armored man but at once Catelyn knew it couldn't be a man. The armor… it was… its pieces were far too close together. While weapons and war would never be her domain Catelyn had seen plenty of men in armor and understood that there had to be gaps for it to move properly. No armor could be perfect, so form fitting that it covered every inch of space. There had to be spots were it overlapped, spots were it left leather or cloth exposed. It was why men would wear chain mail, to try and protect their limbs while still giving them flexibility. Because that was the other issue with armor: it was big and heavy and bulky. It slowed one down and caused their swings to be clumsy and their movements reduced in reach.

But the metal of the creature's armor… it rolled and flowed along each piece. It was… unnatural. It looked more like segmented skin than armor plate. At once Catelyn thought of the beetles that used to cause her and Lysa to go off running and screaming when they played in the carefully maintained grassy play area in Riverrun.

The bug description wasn't helped by the creature's head. While he had two arms and two legs and his form was basically that of a man the head was utterly foreign and monstrous. A massive maw that glowed with an unnatural energy, same as the deep cuts that were its eyes. A set of mandibles on either side of its head. It was like some insect from the Seven Hells, forged to appear like a man but failing miserably.

"I must ask you to step away from the lady," the creature said, its mouth never moving but its words clear. "While I appreciate you guarding her there is no more need."

Catelyn knew that voice.

She remembered hearing it back in King's Landing, telling her that she should stay longer, that she shouldn't have come in secret, that there was so much he wished to show her and it was a shame that she had to hide because he wanted to have her on his arm.

"The princess will be saved from the ogre's lair by her knight," the figure said, his helm slowly retracting to reveal a ghostly blue face. "By… her knight in shining armor." He waved his hand towards his chest, smirking as he did so.

Catelyn swallowed as she took in the face of a dead man.

"Petyr."