The old knight released a silent sigh as he crossed under the gates and into Winterfell. Although it wasn't Riverrun, there was still a homely feel to the castle that made Brynden feel a little more at ease. That and the fact that the castle was built on top of a natural hot spring, meaning that there was plenty of hot water. Besides the hot water, there was only one thing that Brynden was looking forward to more, and as he predicted, she was waiting for him in the courtyard.
Cat.
The courtyard of Winterfell, which would usually be filled with servants and soldiers, was emptier than Brynden had expected. One man was flanking his niece and another group of servants off to the side, under the cover of the stables. They were all bundled in furs but didn't look too miserable.
Brynden dismounted and handed his horse over to one of the waiting servants before throwing a look at Edric and the others as he made his way over to his niece. When he reached her, he knelt and bowed his head.
"My lady," he said kindly.
"Rise, uncle," Cat said happily, laying her soft, gentle hands on his shoulders. When Brynden was back on his feet, the two embraced warmly.
"Hullo Cat," Brynden said quietly. Their hug went on for a few more minutes before Brynden pulled back and wiped the tears from Cat's cheeks. "You're still as lovely as ever."
Cat slapped Brynden on his chest, but it was a weak action and she still couldn't help but smile.
"It feels like it's been forever, Uncle," she said.
"I've been in the south with Robb," Brynden said. "You should be proud of him. He's been a great king."
"But he's not in King's Landing," Cat said, losing her smile.
"No, he's not," Brynden agreed. "It's been a long, cold ride, Cat. Perhaps we can talk in the great hall."
Cat nodded. "Of course. My steward will see that your commanders are given rooms and that your men are taken care of. Hot food has been prepared for you in the great hall."
Brynden smiled. "Thank you, Cat," he said, holding his arm out to her. Together, the two Tullys walked into the keep.
Line Break
The food was good, simple, and nourishing. A pork stew complete with potables and other winter vegetables. It was served with warm cider instead of ale and warm, crusty bread with lots of butter. After weeks of salted pork that was as tough as leather and lumps of hardtack, the food was like a blessing from the gods.
Cat was the perfect host, sharing words with the other commanders and making sure that they had all they needed before returning to her conversation with Brynden. She was particularly kind to Edric, which Brynden found odd considering her view on bastards, but he let the matter be.
After an hour, Brynden's men took their leave and went to find their beds. After warm food and drink on a cold day, a soft bed and thick blanket could cure any problem. Soon, all who were left in the hall were Brynden and Cat.
"Cat, I hate to ask you this, but have you heard anything?" Brynden asked quietly.
Cat shook her head. "It's started, but that's all I know. I've seen only a few riders coming south, and they all say the same thing. The snow is worse further north."
"Were these riders coming from the Wall?" Brynden asked.
"The last one did, yes," Cat answered. "He said that he had a message from the king bound for King's Landing. He was hoping that he could send a raven south from Moat Cailin. If not there, then the Twins."
"If the maester at Moat Cailin can get a raven in the air with this weather, then I pray for the bird," Brynden grunted, taking a sip of his cider. "His best bet is probably the Twins. What message did he carry for King's Landing?"
Cat hesitated and tightened her hold on her cup. "Robb is wondering how possible it would be for him to get wildfyre sent to the Wall."
"Wildfyre?" Brynden sighed. "That's an extreme measure. Whatever he wants it for, then he must be desperate for it. Have there been any other letters sent south?"
"There was one where he asked for Lord Garlan, Prince Oberyn, and a few others by name, but they passed through here almost two months ago," Cat said. "That boy, Gendry, saved Arya from a group of thieves."
"Thieves? What happened?"
Cat rolled her eyes and Brynden knew that it was not a topic that his niece enjoyed talking about. There were few things Cat, who liked everything to be neat and orderly, disliked more than talking about the failings of her children. Of course, since Brynden knew her so well, he knew that she only disliked her children failing because she believed that it reflected poorly on her as a mother.
"Three men from the village somehow managed to sneak into the castle disguised as guards. Arya saw through their facade immediately and stalked them. She soon found out that they planned to steal some of the food we had set aside," Cat explained tiredly. "In the early hours of the morning, Gendry found her watching the thieves. He offered to get the guard, but when she dismissed him, he went to find himself a weapon. That's when my daughter decided to confront the three men by herself."
Brynden smiled wryly and shook her head. "She's stubborn, just like her mother."
"And without her wisdom," Cat countered. "It pains me to admit it, but Arya nearly beat all three men. Nearly. She was disarmed and would have been severely hurt if Gendry hadn't shown up in time. He dealt with all three thieves, killing two and knocking the third unconscious. He was executed by Ser Mychel weeks ago."
"The food was unspoiled, I assume," Brynden said.
"Thankfully," Cat replied. "I talked with Arya."
"How'd she take it?" Brynden asked.
Cat smiled softly. "After all these years, I think that I'm finally seeing eye-to-eye with my daughter," she said gently. "I just needed to bend over myself instead of having her look up every time."
"Wisdom indeed," Brynden chuckled. "I am glad that no one and none of the food was harmed. Gendry's a good lad. A little innocent, but he means well."
"Arya asked me what I thought of him," Cat said. "I see Robert, but I see none of his brashness. None of his impulsivity. He's Robert without his flaws."
"You sound almost fond of the boy," Brynden noted.
"He saved my daughter's life. He's…he seems like a good man," Cat said. "Birth be damned."
Brydnen smiled and took another drink of his cider. "I've had a lot of time to think over the past few weeks. Recently, my thoughts have turned towards Hoster."
"Father?" Cat said, shocked.
Brynden nodded. "This will likely be my last war, Cat. If I manage to make it through this, then I will retake my place as Robb's Master-at-arms and spend the rest of my days in King's Landing. With that in mind, I've come to wonder how my life would be different if I had just sucked my pride and married Bethany Redwyne when Hoster had told me to."
Cat looked stunned, and Brynden couldn't blame her. For the vast majority of her life, Brynden had been feuding with her father. Cat's marriage, Lysa's marriage, even Hoster's death could have reconciled the two brothers. Now, here was Brynden, riding to fight death, admitting that he was wrong to feud with Hoster for so long.
"I don't know what to say," Cat admitted after a few stunned moments.
"You don't have to say anything, Cat," Brynden said, draining the last of his cider and getting to his feet. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry if our feud has caused you any hardship. I should have been better."
Cat shook her head and grabbed his hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Uncle. You were great."
Brynden kissed his niece on her head before walking off. He needed sleep.
Margaery Stark
"This isn't good," Tyrion muttered from across the desk.
The Lord Hand, the queen, and the Queen of Thorns were all seated in the Small Council chambers, slowly making their way through the small mountain of reports that were flowing in from Westeros, none of which had absolutely anything good to say. Every day, more terrible news arrived, all because of the prolonged absence of the king and soldiers from all seven kingdoms.
"What's the matter?" Margaery asked, looking up from what she was reading.
"A young lordling had been riding around the Vale, asking for troops so that he could stamp out the homes of the mountain clansmen since all their warriors are away in the north," Tyrion explained. "Lord Belmore had him locked up for disturbing the peace and now the lad's family is asking for our support in the matter. His father writes, and I quote, "I understand that the king hails from savages, but my son had good intentions"." the lord of Casterly Rock threw the report back on the table with a disgusted scoff. "Imbeciles."
"Here's one from Willas," Margaery's grandmother said, breaking the wax seal and briefly reading over the contents of the letter. The more she read, the deeper her frown became.
"What's wrong?" Margaery asked.
"Ice has begun to spread across the Mander and there is word that fields on the northern edge of the Reach have begun to wither," Grandmother answered grimly. "Willas believes that it will take a few months, perhaps half a year at the longest, for it to freeze over completely."
"Same reports in the Riverlands," Tyrion added, holding up another letter. "The castellan of the Twins has noticed chunks of ice floating down the river and farmers are complaining that their crops are dying from the frost."
"The people of Westeros began their preparations for winter months ago, but a new threat will soon be upon us," Grandmother said, wagging her finger. "Thieves and bandits will begin to spring up like weeds in the garden. We must have a way to prune them." Tyrion chuckled suddenly, causing both women to look at him.
"Do you find something amusing, Lord Tyrion?" Grandmother asked crisply.
"I am reminded of something, that is all," Tyrion said. "After we heard of my father's defeat at High Heart, Joffrey, or his mother I should say, ordered that the city be prepared for a siege. I placed my man Bronn in charge of defending the city. Do you know what he did first?"
"What's the point of guessing if you're going to tell us anyway?" Grandmother hissed. Tyrion shrugged, proving once again that he was one of the few men in Westeros impervious to Margaery's grandmother's wicked tongue.
"He rounded up all known thieves and had them arrested," Tyrion said. "No trial, no evidence, nothing. He just had them thrown in the cells and was content to let them rot until the city was taken or the siege was over."
"We never found any thieves in the cells when we took the city," Margaery said slowly. "Where'd they go?"
"I believe they became brave 'volunteers' and joined the ranks of the gold cloaks when the king attacked the city," Tyrion answered. "But my sources told me later that Aegon Targaryen gave the men two choices: fight for him or be executed and dumped into the sea."
"I always thought he was a horrid young man," Grandmother grumbled. "Never understood how Rhaegar could sire such a brute."
"He did spend his entire life in a mercenary camp," Margaery said. "They're certainly not the most civilized of people."
"Back to your point, Lady Olenna," Tyrion said. "We cannot round up every thief in Westeros, but we can encourage small groups of soldiers to ride out into farms and villages, teach villagers how to fight and defend themselves. Perhaps they can even help organize a militia of sorts."
"A farmer and his son can't fight off a band of half a dozen bandits, Lord Tyrion," Grandmother said. "They need some kind of protection. A militia is a suitable idea, but where would the arms and armor come from?"
"They don't need castle-forged steel, my lady," Tyrion said. "Leather armor should serve their needs just fine, as would simple iron spears and studded cudgels. Nothing better than what the gold cloaks use."
"Can the crown afford such an expense? That would be a lot of iron to buy and disperse," Margaery said. "Not to mention forge into weapons."
"If the lords could supply their villages with enough material, then we can pay them back for the material at a later date," Tyrion offered. "No need for us to do all the work. Besides, I'm sure most villages will have a blacksmith capable of forging spears and cudgels. All they need are the supplies."
Margaery tapped the table thoughtfully. "We will bring this to the council and see what they think. There's merit to your idea, Lord Tyrion, but the execution and plans afterward must be carefully examined."
"Fine with me," Tyrion said with a shrug. "Now, if you two wouldn't mind, I would really like to get back to this thrilling letter from the valeman's father as he lists all the reasons why his son should not be in jail."
"It's all well and good to make fun of the stupid until they are at your doorstep," Margaery chuckled. "I'm sure the man means well."
"He means to bore me to death, your grace," Tyrion countered. "I am short. Not blind."
"Or quiet," Grandmother added with a sly smile.
Tyrion pointed at her from across the table. "I will have my revenge, my lady, I promise you that."
"I will be waiting eagerly, my lord," Grandmother shot back.
"Peace, both of you," Margaery said. "Let us try and halve this mess before you flirt anymore."
"Flirt," Tyrion snorted before adding in a quieter tone: "she started it."
Robb Stark
A massive funeral pyre had been erected outside the Nightfort, with dozens of bodies laying shoulder to shoulder. Three men walked among their ranks, giving final rights. One was a Green Man, blessing the bodies in the name of the Old Gods. Another was Thoros, attending to those who followed his flaming god R'hllor. The final man was a man named Berengar Parren, a septon who traveled with the King's Company. He anointed bodies with the oils of the Seven.
Robb watched as Brienne laid a hand on Ser Garth's shoulder, said a prayer for her former brother, then stepped back for Berengar to anoint the body. The king knew how much the bonds of the kingsguard meant to his commander. She viewed every man in her unit like her brother, and she would die to protect just as they would die to protect her.
Robb had already said his goodbyes to the man, as did Ser Rolland, Ser Balon, and Ser Robar once his arm had been bandaged. All three men toasted to their fallen brother and shared the fond memories they had of him. The four men had served under Renly together before joining Robb and becoming part of his battle guard.
The king waited patiently as his commander returned to his side. There was one pyre that stood apart from the rest. It was the final resting place of Bryn Highsmith, the Green Man.
"Rest, my friend," Robb said softly. "I promise that your name will never be forgotten."
As he stepped back, he looked over at Daenerys, who stood by Drogon. It would take a lot of oil to burn so many bodies, oil that Robb would loathe to use on anything other than wights, even his own men. Thankfully, the Lady of Dragonstone was kind enough to recommend the use of her dragon to help lay the bodies to rest. It was well known that dragon fire would burn much more fiercely than oil.
Daenerys nodded and whispered something to her dragon. The black dragon raised its head and unleashed a torrent of flame that consumed the entire pyre and all the bodies on it. There was not a sound from the men who had assembled to watch the funeral. The only sound was the crackling of fire from the burning pyre.
"Your grace, it is time," Brienne said, laying her hand on Robb's shoulder.
"Thank you, Brienne," Robb said, glancing at his commander before walking back to his commanders. Once again, he nodded to Daenerys.
Soon, the Green Man was burning alongside the others who had fallen in the battle.
Line Break
"How many did we lose in the battle?" Robb asked quietly.
After the funeral, a cloud of sadness as thick as any in the sky, hung over the castle. Men had lost friends and brothers. Several men had been left injured and mutilated. After one battle with the enemy, men were beginning to doubt if they could handle another attack.
"Roughly a hundred dead, several hundred others wounded," Lord Tarly reported grimly. "As of now, we would be hard-pressed to hold off another attack like that."
"There's a chance we won't have to," Jon said, crossing his arms. "The Others got what they wanted. The enchantment that kept them from crossing under the Wall has been dissolved."
There was an underlying note of anger in Jon's voice that Robb noticed, but said nothing. During the battle, Jon and Rhaegal had been pulled over to Brienne's flank when hundreds of wights targeted her side. They would have been overwhelmed instantly if not for his help. Unfortunately, he had missed the first Other and because he was trying to stem the tide of wights entering through the main gate, he had missed the second Other as well.
Robb knew that Jon blamed himself for not only the Green Man's death but Ser Garth's as well. If he had been more vigilant, then perhaps he could have destroyed the Others before they had ever reached the castle. Robb had told his brother that there's no point being angry at the past. He just needed to learn from it and move on.
"But they lost two of their kind in the battle," Jaime pointed out.
"They don't care," Lord Royce countered. "They got what they wanted. They know they outnumber us. What's a couple thousand wights to them and two White Walkers? They still have plenty more of both."
"We still have two gates that they have not touched," Father mentioned. "There's still time for our men to heal and prepare for the next battle."
"What if they come from the south again?" Jaime asked. "The Green Man said that it was unlikely because they would have encroached on the Drowned God's territory. Clearly, the two fucking sides are working together."
"We'll just have to watch both sides," Robb sighed. "We don't have a choice. What have the other castles reported?"
"None were attacked like us, my lord," Brienne said. "But all noticed that the Wall changed. Many are asking what happened."
"Spread the word to all the commanders that the Wall can no longer keep out the Others or their wights. The second and third gates will soon fall under attack," Robb ordered. "Has there been any word from Ser Brynden?"
"Lord Garlan's party has been spotted close by," Father reported. "They should arrive tomorrow."
"A bit of good luck then," Mance grunted.
"What of the Blackfish?" Robb asked.
"He should be close to Winterfell, if not there," Lord Tarly answered. "We can only hope for him and his men to arrive in the next three months."
"With how long it took our enemy to break down the first gate, that should be enough time," Jaime said.
"It may not be," Lord Royce rumbled. "In the tunnel, they are safe from Lady Daenerys and Lord Jon's dragons."
"Mance, do you happen to have any trappers with you?" Robb asked suddenly.
The former wildling monarch shook his head. "I can summon a few if you wish. What do you have in mind?"
"Summon your best," Robb said. "I want to see if there is any way we can set up traps between the third and second gate while we have time."
Mance smiled fiercely. "I'll do what I can, your grace."
"That will be all for today, gentlemen. Lord Tarly, find out how many men we have ready for battle. Lord Royce, assess the strength of the second gate. Jaime, you're with the archers tonight. Father, make sure that anything that was damaged during the battle is repaired. The rest of you, speak with the men. See if you can lift their spirits and the damn cloud that hangs over them," Robb continued.
The other men all nodded and bowed before leaving, with only Jon staying behind. Robb's brother had a worried look on his face.
"Robb, are you…."
"I'm fine, Jon," Robb said, cutting off his brother. "I just need some time."
Jon didn't respond. He merely clapped his brother on the shoulder before walking out.