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GOT : Chapter 73
🕑 Added 2024-04-09 15:31:58 +0000 UTC( Catelyn )
The great halls of Riverrun were dark and silent. Once they had been filled with cries of joy, with bright sunlight seeping through the windows overlooking the rivers of the lands around the castle. Times that are now well and truly over.
Now, only darkness reigns here. Here, in the heart of Riverrun, Catelyn Stark stared at the flicker of the candlelight in front of her, slowly dying, just like her. The great hall of Riverrun never felt so cold, so empty, so small to her.
It is within this hall that they had celebrated her marriage with Ned. In this hall where they had feasted. Stark, Tully and Arryn; Blackwood, Umber and Royce; Waynwood, Bracken and Bolton.
All united in the common cause to avenge her first betrothed, Brandon Stark, and both her new betrothed and old's father, Rickard. A good cause, to overthrow the mad king.
There were smiles, jests and laughter then. Wine filled the room, delicacies from the Seven Kingdoms and the Narrow Sea came in the dozens. The party could've lasted longer, if not for the realities of war. That day, Catelyn felt truly happy.
And a big part of happiness sat next to her. Her husband, Ned. The Quiet Wolf, they called him, for he was more reserved than his older brother, Brandon. He smiled rarely, to be sure, but when he did, it was as if he illuminated the room.
There was a hint of sadness in him, no doubt due to losing so much family, so quick. A second son, not meant to inherit anything, suddenly thrust at the head of one of the greatest houses of the Seven Kingdoms.
The candle flickered.
The halls were now empty. There were no more sungs to be sung, no more feasts to be had, no more celebrations to rejoice. And most of all, there was no more Ned. Her husband that she grew to love so much that she gave him three sons and two daughters, and which they were discussing for another, soon, perhaps.
It would never be. She tried to cherish the memories of her husband, her Ned.
But every time that his smile came back, she would break down in tears once more. How could the gods be so cruel to give her all of this happiness only to take it all away? She had prayed faithfully, every day, and she felt as if she was rewarded. But now? Nothing…nothing more.
She spared a look at the staircase, far out in the distance, at the end of the room, barely illuminated by a few candles. It was on this staircase that she was carried to bed her betrothed. It was at the end of this staircase that she and Ned had spent their first of many nights together. It was there that Robb was conceived.
Robb…her young, brave, bold son. She remembered feeding him at her teat when he was but days old, his bright fiery hair only showing by small bits. She had been worried then. Worried about the Northmen's reactions, of him not being worthy of a Stark for they had dark hair, not auburn.
But Ned had placed a hand on her shoulder and said:
"They will accept him as a Stark because he is my son. His hair could be silver, blonde or brown, he is a Stark and a Tully all the same."
He had comforted her as they raised little Robb quietly in Winterfell. The best years of her life, if she was honest. Then came Sansa, and Arya, and Brandon, and finally Rickon. And the gods had taken all of them…
All of her sons were dead. Her daughters were captives. She had nothing. Nothing at all.
The candle extinguished itself.
It was dark now. Not a single candle was alight in the Great Hall of Riverrun. Everything faded to darkness, and a part of Catelyn wanted for it to swallow her whole.
There were still her daughters, she told herself. Sansa and Arya…but who knows what the Lannister brutes did to them. Every hour of every day she would pray for their health, but the gods never answered her pleas.
She stared silently into the abyss, her black robes matching the dark atmosphere. A door creaked open, holding a candle. Was it the Stranger? Was he finally going to claim her and lead her to her husband, her sons and parents?
"Cat." The voice called. "Why are you staying here with no light."
She recognized the voice but didn't answer.
"Cat. You haven't eaten in two days, please." The voice got closer, setting a plate of food next to her. She barely glanced at it.
A candle was brought and placed in the middle of the large table.
"Cat. Look at me."
Catelyn trembled, raising her eyes towards her interlocutor. Her brother was there in front of her, clad in the Tully colours, every inch a lord, like his father.
"Ed." she nodded. "You look well."
"You don't, Cat. Please, you need to eat. I've brought some fish and vegetables." He pleaded.
Catelyn looked at the plate of food again. The memories came back, the feast at Riverrun, the dances, the colours, Ned, Robb…no.
"I…I can't, Ed." she shook her head, tears in her eyes. "It…everything…reminds me of Ned."
Edmure nodded.
"I…I know, Cat. I know that you bear the whole world on your shoulders at the moment." He reached for her hand. "But…but Cat, you must stay strong. For Sansa, for Arya…for me."
The words stung. Her daughters, were still out there, in the clutches of the lions. But she still had kin. Her sister Lysa was in the Vale…or so she thought…no ravens had been returned ever since they had asked for Vale. And Edmure…little Edmure now lord of Riverrun.
Braving her fear, she slowly brought the plate of food and brought a bit of fish to her lips. It took her much willpower not to spit it out, but she did her best to swallow.
It was too much. She set the plate aside immediately.
"Easy, sister." Edmure clutched her hand.
"How could he have done this?" Catelyn shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. "I raised him amongst my sons, like my sons. I raised him not as a hostage, but as one of my own.
His father never once cared about his life, never sent a letter, never sent anything. And the boy betrays everything for him? He takes all three of my sons for what? Edmure? Why did he take my sons!"
"Greyjoy will pay." Edmure caressed her hand. "The northern lords will never let such treachery pass. Winterfell is surrounded, and believe me, if the whispers from the northerners here are anything to go by, he will die screaming."
"But it won't give me back my sons…" Catelyn sobbed. "A bit of cruelty and suffering for their murderer won't bring them back from the grave. I shall never hold them in my arms one last time. Never kiss their cheeks. Never seen them grow and marry and live happy lives. I shall never see their grandchildren…never."
Edmure nodded sadly, scratching his auburn beard.
"Your…erm…Robb's heir."
"Jon Snow." Catelyn said simply, defeated. "Just call him Jon Snow."
"Jon Snow." Edmure nodded. "He may not be your blood, but he may well bring justice to them. The northerners are on their way to the Wall as we speak."
Jon Snow. The stain on pure Eddard Stark's honor. She never found out who exactly the mother was. Was it indeed a fisherman's daughter of the Sisters? A whore from the Riverlands? A wetnurse from Dorne?
Or worse, was it the beautiful Ashara Dayne, of whom the whispers said that her Ned had charmed at Harrenhal? After all, did everyone not say that the bastard was too pretty to be a Northman?
She wanted to know, but Ned never said a thing. It was the only secret he never shared with her and took to his grave.
"What difference does it make?" he had asked. "He is my blood and my son. That is all that matters."
She remembered his Stark looks, the fear that she had that the Northerners would depose Robb in favor of the bastard. How Ned had laughed at such a proposition. It was all far away now. Part of her fears were erased when she saw both him and Robb getting along as brothers, and all her fears were erased when he joined the Wall, but now…
Now the bastard was at the head of House Stark. He was the only hope she had to see justice done by a Stark for the murder of her sons. The only hope she had was to rally another Northern host to go liberate her daughters. The gods truly were cruel…the only hope of house Stark…the last male of the line wasn't one of hers, it was the bastard she worried about taking over all of these years.
She had spent so much time worrying that Jon would harm his siblings that she never thought about the other member of the Stark household…the squid. Theon Greyjoy, gods curse him for all of eternity. Still, she hoped that Jon Snow would sever the Greyjoy's head from his shoulders.
She even hoped to see him again. After all, she saw Ned in him every time she looked at him. Perhaps it is why she was made to dislike him at first. But now…now she would kill to even get a chance at looking at her beloved Ned again, even if it was through his bastard son.
"Cat, are you listening?" Edmure brought her out of her thoughts.
"Not really, Edmure." She shook her head.
"Can we trust Jon Snow to bring his host back to us? Can we trust him to defend our lands and our alliance?"
Catelyn thought for a few moments and nodded.
"Yes." She replied. "Whatever faults the boy may have, bastard or not, he is a man of his word. Ned raised him well, he will do anything to get our daughters back, and he will honor his brother's word."
Edmure nodded and was about to ask another question when a man burst in.
"Not now, Ser Harry," Edmure grunted.
"My lord, it's important, you must come at once." The knight replied.
Edmure spared a look at her, but she just nodded.
"Go, brother." She encouraged him. "Your people need you."
Edmure nodded in thanks and soon rushed out of the room. Another candle flickered, its flame dancing around the room. She looked at it dance, its steady movements making the table and hearth beyond it glow slightly.
This flame didn't go out instantly like the other. Instead, Catelyn stared at it while it slowly started to gain in intensity.
The door creaked open again.
"Cat." Her brother called out. "You need to see this."
"I'm not in any mood to go see anything, Ed." she shook her head.
"Mother." A voice suddenly caused her eyes to go completely wide.
No.
No. No. No.
It couldn't be. It just…couldn't.
But she would recognize that voice amongst thousands. That little, sweet voice with a hint of defiance.
She rose slowly, watching the flame, and turned around to face her brother. With him was a little girl…or…well…a little person at least. Covered in mud and grass and gods know what more from the roads and woods of the Riverlands. But she could recognize that face even if it were covered in mud and branches.
"A…Arya…" she let out.
She rushed towards her daughter, and her daughter did the same with her. They collided in a tight embrace, with tears flowing freely on her cheeks, paying no mind to the horrid stench her daughter had likely picked up from a terrible journey through these lands.
"Where's Robb?" Arya asked. "Shouldn't he be here too?"
It was as if Catelyn's heart shattered in a thousand pieces once more.
"Robb…your brother…" she repressed a sob. "He's dead, sweet. Robb, Brandon, Rickon…they're all dead."
"What?" Arya's voice broke. "No, this isn't true! Mother, this isn't..."
"Theon killed your younger brothers, burnt Winterfell and when Robb went to take it back, he had him treacherously murdered…" Catelyn looked her daughter in the eyes. "It's…it's only you, me, and Sansa now. And…and the bastard."
Arya couldn't repress her tears as she emptied them into Catelyn's dress. She didn't know how long they both cried, but in the end, they fell into each other's arms nonetheless.
"Will Jon save us?" Arya asked, fiddling with her small sword that Catelyn finally noticed.
Catelyn looked at her with sad eyes.
"I hope he will, my sweet." She could only reply. "When he comes, we can go save Sansa, and we can go back to Winterfell. In the meantime, I'm not letting you go ever again."
"Me neither, mother." Arya, said, tears in her eyes as she clutched Catelyn's dark gown. "I want to stay with you forever."
