CATELYN

As the host trooped down the causeway through the black bogs of the Neckxy and spilled out into the riverlands beyond, Catelynxy’s apprehensions grew. She masked her fears behind a face kept still and stern, yet they were there all the same, growing with every league they crossed. Her days were anxious, her nights restless, and every raven that flew overhead made her clench her teeth.

She feared for her lord father, and wondered at his ominous silence. She feared for her brother Edmure, and prayed that the gods would watch over him if he must face the Kingslayer in battle. She feared for Nedxy and her girls, and for the sweet sons she had left behind at Winterfellxy. And yet there was nothing she could do for any of them, and so she made herself put all thought of them aside. You must save your strength for Robbxy, she told herself. He is the only one you can help. You must be as fierce and hard as the north, Catelynxy Tullyxyxy. You must be a Starkxy for true now, like your son.

Robbxy rode at the front of the column, beneath the flapping white banner of Winterfellxy. Each day he would ask one of his lords to join him, so they might confer as they marched; he honored every man in turn, showing no favorites, listening as his lord father had listened, weighing the words of one against the other. He has learned so much from Nedxy, she thought as she watched him, but has he learned enough?

The Blackfishxy had taken a hundred picked men and a hundred swift horses and raced ahead to screen their movements and scout the way. The reports Ser Brynden’s riders brought back did little to reassure her. Lordxy Tywinxyxy’s host was still many days to the south … but Walderxy Freyxyxy, Lordxy of the Crossingxyxy, had assembled a force of near four thousand men at his castles on the Green Forkxy.

“Late again,” Catelynxy murmured when she heard. It was the Tridentxy all over, damn the man. Her brother Edmure had called the banners; by rights, Lordxy Freyxy should have gone to join the Tullyxy host at Riverrunxy, yet here he sat.

“Four thousand men,” Robbxy repeated, more perplexed than angry. “Lordxy Freyxy cannot hope to fight the Lannistersxy by himself. Surely he means to join his power to ours.”

“Does he?” Catelynxy asked. She had ridden forward to join Robbxy and Robett Gloverxyxy, his companion of the day. The vanguard spread out behind them, a slow-moving forest of lances and banners and spears. “I wonder. Expect nothing of Walderxy Freyxyxy, and you will never be surprised.”

“He’s your father’s bannerman.”

“Some men take their oaths more seriously than others, Robbxy. And Lordxy Walderxyxy was always friendlier with Casterlyxy Rockxy than my father would have liked. One of his sons is wed to Tywinxy Lannisterxyxy’s sister. That means little of itself, to be sure. Lordxy Walderxyxy has sired a great many children over the years, and they must needs marry someone. Still …”

“Do you think he means to betray us to the Lannistersxy, my lady?” Robett Gloverxyxy asked gravely.

Catelynxy sighed. “If truth be told, I doubt even Lordxy Freyxy knows what Lordxy Freyxy intends to do. He has an old man’s caution and a young man’s ambition, and has never lacked for cunning.”

“We must have the Twinsxy, Motherxy,” Robbxy said heatedly. “There is no other way across the river. You know that.”

“Yes. And so does Walderxy Freyxyxy, you can be sure of that.”

That night they made camp on the southern edge of the bogs, halfway between the kingsroad and the river. It was there Theonxy Greyjoyxyxy brought them further word from her uncle. “Ser Brynden says to tell you he’s crossed swords with the Lannistersxy. There are a dozen scouts who won’t be reporting back to Lordxy Tywinxyxy anytime soon. Or ever.” He grinned. “Ser Addamxy Marbrandxyxy commands their outriders, and he’s pulling back south, burning as he goes. He knows where we are, more or less, but the Blackfishxy vows he will not know when we split.”

“Unless Lordxy Freyxy tells him,” Catelynxy said sharply. “Theonxy, when you return to my uncle, tell him he is to place his best bowmen around the Twinsxy, day and night, with orders to bring down any raven they see leaving the battlements. I want no birds bringing word of my son’s movements to Lordxy Tywinxyxy.”

“Ser Brynden has seen to it already, my lady,” Theonxy replied with a cocky smile. “A few more blackbirds, and we should have enough to bake a pie. I’ll save you their feathers for a hat.”

She ought to have known that Brynden Blackfishxyxy would be well ahead of her. “What have the Freysxy been doing while the Lannistersxy burn their fields and plunder their holdfasts?”

“There’s been some fighting between Ser Addamxy’s men and Lordxy Walderxyxy’s,” Theonxy answered. “Not a day’s ride from here, we found two Lannisterxy scouts feeding the crows where the Freysxy had strung them up. Most of Lordxy Walderxyxy’s strength remains massed at the Twinsxy, though.”

That bore Walderxy Freyxyxy’s seal beyond a doubt, Catelynxy thought bitterly; hold back, wait, watch, take no risk unless forced to it.

“If he’s been fighting the Lannistersxy, perhaps he does mean to hold to his vows,” Robbxy said.

Catelynxy was less encouraged. “Defending his own lands is one thing, open battle against Lordxy Tywinxyxy quite another.”

Robbxy turned back to Theonxy Greyjoyxyxy. “Has the Blackfishxy found any other way across the Green Forkxy?”

Theonxy shook his head. “The river’s running high and fast. Ser Brynden says it can’t be forded, not this far north.”

“I must have that crossing!” Robbxy declared, fuming. “Oh, our horses might be able to swim the river, I suppose, but not with armored men on their backs. We’d need to build rafts to pole our steel across, helms and mail and lances, and we don’t have the trees for that. Or the time. Lordxy Tywinxyxy is marching north …” He balled his hand into a fist.

“Lordxy Freyxy would be a fool to try and bar our way,” Theonxy Greyjoyxyxy said with his customary easy confidence. “We have five times his numbers. You can take the Twinsxy if you need to, Robbxy.”

“Not easily,” Catelynxy warned them, “and not in time. While you were mounting your siege, Tywinxy Lannisterxyxy would bring up his host and assault you from the rear.”

Robbxy glanced from her to Greyjoyxy, searching for an answer and finding none. For a moment he looked even younger than his fifteen years, despite his mail and sword and the stubble on his cheeks. “What would my lord father do?” he asked her.

“Find a way across,” she told him. “Whatever it took.”

The next morning it was Ser Brynden Tullyxyxy himself who rode back to them. He had put aside the heavy plate and helm he’d worn as the Knightxy of the Gatexyxy for the lighter leather-and-mail of an outrider, but his obsidian fish still fastened his cloak.

Her uncle’s face was grave as he swung down off his horse. “There has been a battle under the walls of Riverrunxy,” he said, his mouth grim. “We had it from a Lannisterxy outrider we took captive. The Kingslayer has destroyed Edmure’s host and sent the lords of the Tridentxy reeling in flight.”

A cold hand clutched at Catelynxy’s heart. “And my brother?”

“Wounded and taken prisoner,” Ser Brynden said. “Lordxy Blackwoodxy and the other survivors are under siege inside Riverrunxy, surrounded by Jaimexy’s host.”

Robbxy looked fretful. “We must get across this accursed river if we’re to have any hope of relieving them in time.”

“That will not be easily done,” her uncle cautioned. “Lordxy Freyxy has pulled his whole strength back inside his castles, and his gates are closed and barred.”

“Damn the man,” Robbxy swore. “If the old fool does not relent and let me cross, he’ll leave me no choice but to storm his walls. I’ll pull the Twinsxy down around his ears if I have to, we’ll see how well he likes that!”

“You sound like a sulky boy, Robbxy,” Catelynxy said sharply. “A child sees an obstacle, and his first thought is to run around it or knock it down. A lord must learn that sometimes words can accomplish what swords cannot.”

Robbxy’s neck reddened at the rebuke. “Tell me what you mean, Motherxy,” he said meekly.

“The Freysxy have held the crossing for six hundred years, and for six hundred years they have never failed to exact their toll.”

“What toll? What does he want?”

She smiled. “That is what we must discover.”

“And what if I do not choose to pay this toll?”

“Then you had best retreat back to Moat Cailinxy, deploy to meet Lordxy Tywinxyxy in battle … or grow wings. I see no other choices.” Catelynxy put her heels to her horse and rode off, leaving her son to ponder her words. It would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his place. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Nedxy? she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdomsxy were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson.

It was near midday when their vanguard came in sight of the Twinsxy, where the Lords of the Crossingxy had their seat.

The Green Forkxy ran swift and deep here, but the Freysxy had spanned it many centuries past and grown rich off the coin men paid them to cross. Their bridge was a massive arch of smooth grey rock, wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast; the Water Towerxy rose from the center of the span, commanding both road and river with its arrow slits, murder holes, and portcullises. It had taken the Freysxy three generations to complete their bridge; when they were done they’d thrown up stout timber keeps on either bank, so no one might cross without their leave.

The timber had long since given way to stone. The Twinsxyxy—two squat, ugly, formidable castles, identical in every respect, with the bridge arching between—had guarded the crossing for centuries. High curtain walls, deep moats, and heavy oak-and-iron gates protected the approaches, the bridge footings rose from within stout inner keeps, there was a barbican and portcullis on either bank, and the Water Towerxy defended the span itself.

One glance was sufficient to tell Catelynxy that the castle would not be taken by storm. The battlements bristled with spears and swords and scorpions, there was an archer at every crenel and arrow slit, the drawbridge was up, the portcullis down, the gates closed and barred.

The Greatjonxy began to curse and swear as soon as he saw what awaited them. Lordxy Rickard Karstarkxyxy glowered in silence. “That cannot be assaulted, my lords,” Roose Boltonxyxy announced.

“Nor can we take it by siege, without an army on the far bank to invest the other castle,” Helman Tallhartxyxy said gloomily. Across the deep-running green waters, the western twin stood like a reflection of its eastern brother. “Even if we had the time. Which, to be sure, we do not.”

As the northern lords studied the castle, a sally port opened, a plank bridge slid across the moat, and a dozen knights rode forth to confront them, led by four of Lordxy Walderxyxy’s many sons. Their banner bore twin towers, dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey. Ser Stevron Freyxyxy, Lordxy Walderxyxy’s heir, spoke for them. The Freysxy all looked like weasels; Ser Stevron, past sixty with grandchildren of his own, looked like an especially old and tired weasel, yet he was polite enough. “My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host.”

“I do.” Robbxy spurred his horse forward. He was in his armor, with the direwolf shield of Winterfellxy strapped to his saddle and Grey Windxy padding by his side.

The old knight looked at her son with a faint flicker of amusement in his watery grey eyes, though his gelding whickered uneasily and sidled away from the direwolf. “My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here.”

His words crashed among the lords bannermen like a great stone from a catapult. Not one of them approved. They cursed, argued, shouted down each other.

“You must not do this, my lord,” Galbart Gloverxyxy pleaded with Robbxy. “Lordxy Walderxyxy is not to be trusted.”

Roose Boltonxyxy nodded. “Go in there alone and you’re his. He can sell you to the Lannistersxy, throw you in a dungeon, or slit your throat, as he likes.”

“If he wants to talk to us, let him open his gates, and we will all share his meat and mead,” declared Ser Wendel Manderlyxyxy.

“Or let him come out and treat with Robbxy here, in plain sight of his men and ours,” suggested his brother, Ser Wylis.

Catelynxy Starkxyxy shared all their doubts, but she had only to glance at Ser Stevron to see that he was not pleased by what he was hearing. A few more words and the chance would be lost. She had to act, and quickly. “I will go,” she said loudly.

“You, my lady?” The Greatjonxy furrowed his brow.

“Motherxy, are you certain?” Clearly, Robbxy was not.

“Never more,” Catelynxy lied glibly. “Lordxy Walderxyxy is my father’s bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm.” Unless he saw some profit in it, she added silently, but some truths did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.

“I am certain my lord father would be pleased to speak to the Ladyxy Catelynxy,” Ser Stevron said. “To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you.”

“He shall be our honored guest,” said Robbxy. Ser Perwyn, the youngest of the four Freysxy in the party, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a brother. “I require my lady mother’s return by evenfall, Ser Stevron,” Robbxy went on. “It is not my intent to linger here long.”

Ser Stevron Freyxyxy gave a polite nod. “As you say, my lord.” Catelynxy spurred her horse forward and did not look back. Lordxy Walderxyxy’s sons and envoys fell in around her.

Her father had once said of Walderxy Freyxyxy that he was the only lord in the Seven Kingdomsxy who could field an army out of his breeches. When the Lordxy of the Crossingxyxy welcomed Catelynxy in the great hall of the east castle, surrounded by twenty living sons (minus Ser Perwyn, who would have made twenty-one), thirty-six grandsons, nineteen great-grandsons, and numerous daughters, granddaughters, bastards, and grandbastards, she understood just what he had meant.

Lordxy Walderxyxy was ninety, a wizened pink weasel with a bald spotted head, too gouty to stand unassisted. His newest wife, a pale frail girl of sixteen years, walked beside his litter when they carried him in. She was the eighth Ladyxy Freyxy.

“It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord,” Catelynxy said.

The old man squinted at her suspiciously. “Is it? I doubt that. Spare me your sweet words, Ladyxy Catelynxy, I am too old. Why are you here? Is your boy too proud to come before me himself? What am I to do with you?”

Catelynxy had been a girl the last time she had visited the Twinsxy, but even then Lordxy Walderxyxy had been irascible, sharp of tongue, and blunt of manner. Age had made him worse than ever, it would seem. She would need to choose her words with care, and do her best to take no offense from his.

“Fatherxy,” Ser Stevron said reproachfully, “you forget yourself. Ladyxy Starkxy is here at your invitation.”

“Did I ask you? You are not Lordxy Freyxy yet, not until I die. Do I look dead? I’ll hear no instructions from you.”

“This is no way to speak in front of our noble guest, Fatherxy,” one of his younger sons said.

“Now my bastards presume to teach me courtesy,” Lordxy Walderxyxy complained. “I’ll speak any way I like, damn you. I’ve had three kings to guest in my life, and queens as well, do you think I require lessons from the likes of you, Ryger? Your mother was milking goats the first time I gave her my seed.” He dismissed the red-faced youth with a flick of his fingers and gestured to two of his other sons. “Danwell, Whalen, help me to my chair.”

They shifted Lordxy Walderxyxy from his litter and carried him to the high seat of the Freysxy, a tall chair of black oak whose back was carved in the shape of two towers linked by a bridge. His young wife crept up timidly and covered his legs with a blanket. When he was settled, the old man beckoned Catelynxy forward and planted a papery dry kiss on her hand. “There,” he announced. “Now that I have observed the courtesies, my lady, perhaps my sons will do me the honor of shutting their mouths. Why are you here?”

“To ask you to open your gates, my lord,” Catelynxy replied politely. “My son and his lords bannermen are most anxious to cross the river and be on their way.”

“To Riverrunxy?” He sniggered. “Oh, no need to tell me, no need. I’m not blind yet. The old man can still read a map.”

“To Riverrunxy,” Catelynxy confirmed. She saw no reason to deny it. “Where I might have expected to find you, my lord. You are still my father’s bannerman, are you not?”

“Heh,” said Lordxy Walderxyxy, a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt. “I called my swords, yes I did, here they are, you saw them on the walls. It was my intent to march as soon as all my strength was assembled. Well, to send my sons. I am well past marching myself, Ladyxy Catelynxy.” He looked around for likely confirmation and pointed to a tall, stooped man of fifty years. “Tell her, Jared. Tell her that was my intent.”

“It was, my lady,” said Ser Jared Freyxyxy, one of his sons by his second wife. “On my honor.”

“Is it my fault that your fool brother lost his battle before we could march?” He leaned back against his cushions and scowled at her, as if challenging her to dispute his version of events. “I am told the Kingslayer went through him like an axe through ripe cheese. Why should my boys hurry south to die? All those who did go south are running north again.”

Catelynxy would gladly have spitted the querulous old man and roasted him over a fire, but she had only till evenfall to open the bridge. Calmly, she said, “All the more reason that we must reach Riverrunxy, and soon. Where can we go to talk, my lord?”

“We’re talking now,” Lordxy Freyxy complained. The spotted pink head snapped around. “What are you all looking at?” he shouted at his kin. “Get out of here. Ladyxy Starkxy wants to speak to me in private. Might be she has designs on my fidelity, heh. Go, all of you, find something useful to do. Yes, you too, woman. Out, out, out.” As his sons and grandsons and daughters and bastards and nieces and nephews streamed from the hall, he leaned close to Catelynxy and confessed, “They’re all waiting for me to die. Stevron’s been waiting for forty years, but I keep disappointing him. Heh. Why should I die just so he can be a lord? I ask you. I won’t do it.”

“I have every hope that you will live to be a hundred.”

“That would boil them, to be sure. Oh, to be sure. Now, what do you want to say?”

“We want to cross,” Catelynxy told him.

“Oh, do you? That’s blunt. Why should I let you?”

For a moment her anger flared. “If you were strong enough to climb your own battlements, Lordxy Freyxy, you would see that my son has twenty thousand men outside your walls.”

“They’ll be twenty thousand fresh corpses when Lordxy Tywinxyxy gets here,” the old man shot back. “Don’t you try and frighten me, my lady. Your husband’s in some traitor’s cell under the Red Keepxyxy, your father’s sick, might be dying, and Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy’s got your brother in chains. What do you have that I should fear? That son of yours? I’ll match you son for son, and I’ll still have eighteen when yours are all dead.”

“You swore an oath to my father,” Catelynxy reminded him.

He bobbed his head side to side, smiling. “Oh, yes, I said some words, but I swore oaths to the crown too, it seems to me. Joffreyxy’s the king now, and that makes you and your boy and all those fools out there no better than rebels. If I had the sense the gods gave a fish, I’d help the Lannistersxy boil you all.”

“Why don’t you?” she challenged him.

Lordxy Walderxyxy snorted with disdain. “Lordxy Tywinxyxy the proud and splendid, Wardenxy of the Westxy, Handxy of the Kingxyxy, oh, what a great man that one is, him and his gold this and gold that and lions here and lions there. I’ll wager you, he eats too many beans, he breaks wind just like me, but you’ll never hear him admit it, oh, no. What’s he got to be so puffed up about anyway? Only two sons, and one of them’s a twisted little monster. I’ll match him son for son, and I’ll still have nineteen and a half left when all of his are dead!” He cackled. “If Lordxy Tywinxyxy wants my help, he can bloody well ask for it.”

That was all Catelynxy needed to hear. “I am asking for your help, my lord,” she said humbly. “And my father and my brother and my lord husband and my sons are asking with my voice.”

Lordxy Walderxyxy jabbed a bony finger at her face. “Save your sweet words, my lady. Sweet words I get from my wife. Did you see her? Sixteen she is, a little flower, and her honey’s only for me. I wager she gives me a son by this time next year. Perhaps I’ll make him heir, wouldn’t that boil the rest of them?”

“I’m certain she will give you many sons.”

His head bobbed up and down. “Your lord father did not come to the wedding. An insult, as I see it. Even if he is dying. He never came to my last wedding either. He calls me the Late Lordxy Freyxy, you know. Does he think I’m dead? I’m not dead, and I promise you, I’ll outlive him as I outlived his father. Your family has always pissed on me, don’t deny it, don’t lie, you know it’s true. Years ago, I went to your father and suggested a match between his son and my daughter. Why not? I had a daughter in mind, sweet girl, only a few years older than Edmure, but if your brother didn’t warm to her, I had others he might have had, young ones, old ones, virgins, widows, whatever he wanted. No, Lordxy Hosterxy would not hear of it. Sweet words he gave me, excuses, but what I wanted was to get rid of a daughter.

“And your sister, that one, she’s full as bad. It was, oh, a year ago, no more, Jon Arrynxyxy was still the Kingxy’s Handxy, and I went to the city to see my sons ride in the tourney. Stevron and Jared are too old for the lists now, but Danwell and Hosteen rode, Perwyn as well, and a couple of my bastards tried the melee. If I’d known how they’d shame me, I would never have troubled myself to make the journey. Why did I need to ride all that way to see Hosteen knocked off his horse by that Tyrellxy whelp? I ask you. The boy’s half his age, Ser Daisyxy they call him, something like that. And Danwell was unhorsed by a hedge knight! Some days I wonder if those two are truly mine. My third wife was a Crakehallxy, all of the Crakehallxy women are sluts. Well, never mind about that, she died before you were born, what do you care?

“I was speaking of your sister. I proposed that Lordxy and Ladyxy Arrynxy foster two of my grandsons at court, and offered to take their own son to ward here at the Twinsxy. Are my grandsons unworthy to be seen at the king’s court? They are sweet boys, quiet and mannerly. Walderxy is Merrett’s son, named after me, and the other one … heh, I don’t recall … he might have been another Walderxy, they’re always naming them Walderxy so I’ll favor them, but his father … which one was his father now?” His face wrinkled up. “Well, whoever he was, Lordxy Arrynxy wouldn’t have him, or the other one, and I blame your lady sister for that. She frosted up as if I’d suggested selling her boy to a mummer’s show or making a eunuch out of him, and when Lordxy Arrynxy said the child was going to Dragonstonexy to foster with Stannisxy Baratheonxyxy, she stormed off without a word of regrets and all the Handxy could give me was apologies. What good are apologies? I ask you.”

Catelynxy frowned, disquieted. “I had understood that Lysaxy’s boy was to be fostered with Lordxy Tywinxyxy at Casterlyxy Rockxy.”

“No, it was Lordxy Stannisxy,” Walderxy Freyxyxy said irritably. “Do you think I can’t tell Lordxy Stannisxy from Lordxy Tywinxyxy? They’re both bungholes who think they’re too noble to shit, but never mind about that, I know the difference. Or do you think I’m so old I can’t remember? I’m ninety and I remember very well. I remember what to do with a woman too. That wife of mine will give me a son before this time next year, I’ll wager. Or a daughter, that can’t be helped. Boyxy or girl, it will be red, wrinkled, and squalling, and like as not she’ll want to name it Walderxy or Walda.”

Catelynxy was not concerned with what Ladyxy Freyxy might choose to name her child. “Jon Arrynxyxy was going to foster his son with Lordxy Stannisxy, you are quite certain of that?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the old man said. “Only he died, so what does it matter? You say you want to cross the river?”

“We do.”

“Well, you can’t!” Lordxy Walderxyxy announced crisply. “Not unless I allow it, and why should I? The Tullys and the Starks have never been friends of mine.” He pushed himself back in his chair and crossed his arms, smirking, waiting for her answer.

The rest was only haggling.

A swollen red sun hung low against the western hills when the gates of the castle opened. The drawbridge creaked down, the portcullis winched up, and Ladyxy Catelynxy Starkxyxy rode forth to rejoin her son and his lords bannermen. Behind her came Ser Jared Freyxyxy, Ser Hosteen Freyxyxy, Ser Danwell Freyxyxy, and Lordxy Walderxyxy’s bastard son Ronel Riversxy, leading a long column of pikemen, rank on rank of shuffling men in blue steel ringmail and silvery grey cloaks.

Robbxy galloped out to meet her, with Grey Windxy racing beside his stallion. “It’s done,” she told him. “Lordxy Walderxy will grant you your crossing. His swords are yours as well, less four hundred he means to keep back to hold the Twinsxy. I suggest that you leave four hundred of your own, a mixed force of archers and swordsmen. He can scarcely object to an offer to augment his garrison … but make certain you give the command to a man you can trust. Lordxy Walderxyxy may need help keeping faith.”

“As you say, Motherxy,” Robbxy answered, gazing at the ranks of pikemen. “Perhaps … Ser Helman Tallhartxyxy, do you think?”

“A fine choice.”

“What … what did he want of us?”

“If you can spare a few of your swords, I need some men to escort two of Lordxy Freyxy’s grandsons north to Winterfellxy,” she told him. “I have agreed to take them as wards. They are young boys, aged eight years and seven. It would seem they are both named Walderxy. Your brother Branxy will welcome the companionship of lads near his own age, I should think.”

“Is that all? Two fosterlings? That’s a small enough price to—”

“Lordxy Freyxy’s son Olyvar will be coming with us,” she went on. “He is to serve as your personal squire. His father would like to see him knighted, in good time.”

“A squire.” He shrugged. “Fine, that’s fine, if he’s—”

“Also, if your sister Aryaxy is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lordxy Walderxyxy’s youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age.”

Robbxy looked nonplussed. “Aryaxy won’t like that one bit.”

“And you are to wed one of his daughters, once the fighting is done,” she finished. “His lordship has graciously consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer. He has a number he thinks might be suitable.”

To his credit, Robbxy did not flinch. “I see.”

“Do you consent?”

“Can I refuse?”

“Not if you wish to cross.”

“I consent,” Robbxy said solemnly. He had never seemed more manly to her than he did in that moment. Boys might play with swords, but it took a lord to make a marriage pact, knowing what it meant.

They crossed at evenfall as a horned moon floated upon the river. The double column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin like a great steel snake, slithering across the courtyard, into the keep and over the bridge, to issue forth once more from the second castle on the west bank.

Catelynxy rode at the head of the serpent, with her son and her uncle Ser Brynden and Ser Stevron Freyxyxy. Behind followed nine tenths of their horse; knights, lancers, freeriders, and mounted bowmen. It took hours for them all to cross. Afterward, Catelynxy would remember the clatter of countless hooves on the drawbridge, the sight of Lordxy Walderxyxy Freyxyxy in his litter watching them pass, the glitter of eyes peering down through the slats of the murder holes in the ceiling as they rode through the Water Towerxy.

The larger part of the northern host, pikes and archers and great masses of men-at-arms on foot, remained upon the east bank under the command of Roose Boltonxyxy. Robbxy had commanded him to continue the march south, to confront the huge Lannisterxy army coming north under Lordxy Tywinxyxy.

For good or ill, her son had thrown the dice.