The Birth of Dragons

Lady Catelyn Stark

Ned was dead, executed by a boy King, who had once meant to marry their daughter. She grieved for her husband as surely as she did love him, and yet Catelyn knew she could not give herself to the grief she felt. Their children needed her, Sansa who was trying so hard to help her and be a lady, Arya who was headstrong and only growing more so, Bran, who was fighting hard to be a man when he was but a boy, and little Rickon who was no more than a babe. They needed her more than ever, and she worried for Robb and Jon, fighting a man's war in the south. Not for the first time she cursed herself forever encouraging Ned to go south, what she thought they'd achieve by that she no longer knew. All she knew was that she was a widow now, and that her children had no father. There were offers of marriage coming in, but she refused them all, she would not marry ever again, she would not let anyone touch her the way Ned had. There were many things she would not do, but there was one thing she would do, and that was see to the defence of the north.

"The situation on the western coast continues to worsen my lady." Ser Rodrik says, his face contorted in barely contained rage. "The Ironborn are strengthening their hold over Deepwood Motte and are selling any who do not bend to them and their salt King, into slavery. The people in the Wolfswood are beginning for help."

"What action have the Forresters taken?" Catelyn asks, she remembers Lord Forrester, a big bold man, who liked a fight, she knows he was old but he was always ready for a fight.

"The Forresters are going through their own internal issues right now my lady." Ser Rodrik replies, Catelyn raises an eyebrow, she does not understand how such a thing could happen now of all times. "Lord Forrester is old, and his son and grandsons are fighting in the south, whilst his nephew and his nephew's family are angling to take over Ironrath, once the old man has passed. Lord Forrester's good daughter is doing her best to prevent that. Hence the ironborn being able to encroach further inward."

Catelyn sighs exasperated. "Do they not understand what foolery that is? They are endangering their own safety by continuing to feud."

Ser Rodrik nods. "I am sure that if they were thinking rationally they would, but they are not, and as such, this requires firm hand from Winterfell in order to prevent further encroachment."

Catelyn sighs. "I wish that we could send more men, but as it is there are men trying to take back Torrhen's Square and men making a move for Moat Cailin. We cannot ignore the fact that Theon Greyjoy sits in a cell here, because he tried to take Winterfell. I cannot and will not allow my home to be left undefended."

Maester Luwin speaks then. Ever the voice of wisdom. "Lady Catelyn is right Ser Rodrik. Theon Greyjoy was nearly successful in his attempt to take Winterfell, had you and the men meant for Torrhen's Square not been here, there is a chance his plan would have worked. We cannot send more men to places where they might not be needed in the near future."

Catelyn sees Ser Rodrik grimace, and she knows he is thinking back to that letter. "You think the man meant it then?"

Catelyn thinks over the letter and its contents, whispers of a time long passed in the north, before even her husband's father's time, the man had stirred once more. "I think that we cannot rule it out. Regardless, the Ironborn are a menace, but they are contained to the coast for now. Once Robb returns or this threat passes, we can better deal with them then."

The question she has been dreading since she said that statement comes next. "What happens if Lord Robb does not return or this threat does not pass, my lady? What then? The north can only wait for so long. Deepwood Motte is under foreign occupation, as is Moat Cailin. Torrhen's Square might fall easily enough, but House Tallhart is on its knees. There is little stopping some of the more rebellious lords from doing just that."

Catelyn closes her eyes then, remembering the word that had come, Benfred Tallhart dead, slain by Greyjoy and his uncle, little Eddara's head dashed against a rock as an offering to the drowned god. Leobald and his sons were in Winterfell, and they were desperate for revenge, or rather Leobald's sons were in Winterfell, the man had led the party to retake his castle. Catelyn takes a deep breath and then asks. "Do you think Ryswell and Dustin will rebel then, if we do nothing?"

Ser Rodrik nods. "Most definitely, they have never been on the best of terms with Winterfell since the rebellion, and with Lord Eddard dead, and Lord Robb in the south, they will sense an opportunity too good to miss."

"And with Bolton's son there whispering in their ears, they will be hard pressed not to." Catelyn surmises. "What do you suggest then? We cannot leave Winterfell undefended, not with everything happening as it is."

Ser Rodrik tugs on his whiskers in thought, then his eyes light up as a thought comes to him. "The harvest feast has been and gone, that is true, but if you perhaps invite the Ryswells, Dustins and Manderlys to Winterfell alongside Bolton's son, for a feast to celebrate good harmony and to prepare for an incursion against the ironborn, that could do much to restore good faith."

Catelyn nods though she is slightly uncertain, still, if it does more to help heal any potential wounds then she is all for it. "Very well then. Maester Luwin, send the ravens out tonight. I will have the cooks prepare something for this feast." She pauses, watching as the Maester makes a note of what she has said, that done she turns and says. "Unless there is anything else?" both men shake their head and she replies. "Very well. Good day Sers, I will be with my children." With that she walks out of the room to where she knows her children will be smiling as she hears their laughter.