moonlight10
patreon
GOT : Chapter 191
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 14:35:05 +0000 UTC( Catelyn POV )
Hectic.
This was the word that best described the situation in Winterfell at the moment.
Complete madness had invaded the North and the castle, with the second War for the Dawn approaching…if it hadn't already started.
With a heavy heart, the Wildlings had told her that they had sealed the last entrances to the forts on the Wall due to more and more wight attacks. Attacks which strengthened with each passing day.
Catelyn had to sit with Rickon as reports of giant spiders made of ice made their way to them. Half-dead bears and elk or deer charging onto the thick, icy, walls, accompanied them. Things that made her stomach turn.
And as usual, she would have to assign men to each castle, to man the forts. Men from the North, but also the Vale, the Riverlands, and, more recently, the Crownlands, Westerlands and even Stormlands. The Reachers and Dornish would also come to bolster their strength at Moat Cailin in time.
And at the heart of it all, there she was.
Jon Snow had bent the knee, ending Rickon's short-lived reign as King in the North.
In her mind, she should resent him for that action. But she also knew that the Targaryen dragons were too valuable.
She had seen the army of wights amassing under Castle Black. She had seen the unending sea of dead men walking towards the Wall. Mance Rayder himself had to support her as she nearly fainted once again.
Not this time, though.
She had endured through many hardships, and she would continue to endure. Seeing the dead men only strengthened her resolve to protect the North and Winterfell. Ever since, she had worked tirelessly to achieve it, and dragons would be key to that end.
Arya and Rickon helped, of course. Arya volunteered for missions, which Catelyn refused at every turn.
However, with the threat of the dead, she had to concede that any training she could get with a blade was essential.
She herself had started taking lessons.
Should the wights come for her, they would not find a weak, defenceless lady. She would fight for her last breath, and she definitely would not let these arrogant Northern lords do so for her.
As for Rickon, he was as wild as ever, but no less determined for a boy his age. He rode Shaggydog as if it were a horse, brandishing a battle-axe and calling himself 'the Wild Wolf'.
Well, in the North, any help was needed.
Every man, woman or child old enough to bear arms did so. From swords to axes to hammers to knives, all made with dragonglass, of course.
Dragonglass made its way to the North at too slow a pace for her liking, whether up the Neck from Dragonstone or across the Bay of Seals from Skagos. Catelyn was thankful the isolationist Skagosi houses had honored their vows of fealty and pledged to deliver as much dragonglass as they could ship across the treacherous waters of their strait.
Now, Catelyn Stark had the North in her hands, completely.
With Jon Snow having resigned his position after making peace, he had left the Regency to her. A…surprising move, but one that was accepted by all, from Umber to Karstark to Manderly to Reed. And since then, she had slept little and worked much to ensure that every sword was given a wielder, every grain was stored, every ounce of meat or drop of ale accounted for and every single southerner housed.
Speaking of southerners, they had started coming in droves. From the Riverlands, first of all. Then, from the Vale. Then came Lord Yronwood, forced to take the black after some form of treason, with Ser Kevan Lannister and Lord Mace Tyrell having landed in White Harbor, ready to join him. Then, the Westerlanders and Crownlanders, Braavosi and Lorathi, Pentoshi and Reachers and Dornish…all waiting to see the War for the Dawn start.
Those who did not believe made a quick trip to the Wall and had their eyes opened. Some of them never woke up again, fear having stricken their bodies past the point of what they could handle. They would be fuel for the first pyres of the war.
Yet, between all of this, Catelyn's mind still wandered.
She had lost Robb, yes. But Sansa was alive and brought to Riverrun, Arya was alive in Winterfell along with Rickon…but where was Bran? It was as if he'd disappeared completely. She had asked Rickon, of course, but he had said that they separated to avoid being caught by Theon if he sent search parties…but where? Where could Bran ever have gone?
These thoughts helped to keep her awake in the few nights of rest that she got.
During the day, though, other worries clouded her mind. The North was at the forefront of everything, now, and she was caught in the middle of it all.
Today, she had to preside over another meeting around the high table, with herself seated at the place of honor, besides Rickon and Arya.
And, like every meeting, the Northern lords talked over each other in an indescribable hubbub, each trying to speak louder than the other, as if that would validate their argument over their counterparts.
Thus, like every meeting, Catelyn sat in silence until they either tired themselves out or she grew too annoyed by their childishness.
On this day, it was her who snapped before her lords.
Knocking loudly on the table, she cried out,"MY LORDS!"
The shouts died down, with everyone slowly sitting as she stared down the last recalcitrant.
"One at a time." She sighed, having to remind everyone of this basic courtesy for the hundredth time. "Lady Flint, if you would start."
Lady Lyessa Flint, a grown woman with dark hair, stood up. "The sea between Skagos and the Northern coast has frozen. It is now impossible to ferry dragonglass from there safely enough."
"Even by taking the east route?" Catelyn asked.
Lady Flint shook her head. "Waves as large as mountains have been reported. Three ships have already been lost and even the Braavosi cannot weather these storms."
"And the western shore has started to freeze as well!" Robett Glover pointed out. "I have sent a message to my son who passed it to…Prince Daeron and the Small Council in King's Landing, but the situation around Bear Island and the Shadow Tower is looking grim. We have had no news of the Mormonts for a week now…"
"Ravens cannot fly in these conditions, Ser Robett," Catelyn countered.
"Aye, I agree, Lady Regent." Robett inclined his head respectfully. "But no ships from the island have reached Deepwood Motte and I fear for the worst."
"You fear that the dead may try to outflank us?" Catelyn narrowed her eyes.
There was a murmur amongst the audience.
It had been suggested for a long time that the dead would just try to sneak around the Wall instead of breaking through it. And as the shores of the North had started to freeze, the number of men garrisoning it had started to rise.
"Lord Greengood, your men watch the Bay of Ice, surely they would have received reports?" Catelyn then asked.
Lord Helman Greengood was a man of three-and-thirty, half-blind in one eye, but whose imposing stature commanded fear and respect.
"Yes, Lady Regent, but my men have not observed anything out of the ordinary. Cold winds, fog and mist, aye, but no dead have started walking on the ice yet."
Robett Glover pushed his point, "With all due respect, if they came from the Frozen shore onto Bear Island, Lord Greengood's men would not have seen a thing."
"I fear that if the Mormonts have indeed been attacked, there is not much we can do," the Smalljon Umber said with a shake of his head.
"Well, the pass between Deepwood and Bear Island is still open and relatively sheltered, is it not?" Catelyn asked. "Ser Robett, have a ship readied and sent to Bear Island and report back immediately. Do not let them take any risks."
"It will be done, Lady Regent." Ser Robett acquiesced.
"Lady Regent," another voice spoke up from the crowd. This time, it was Dunstan Overton. "I must ask, what of the grain supplies from the Reach. How will they be distributed with the newcomers? We have so many mouths to feed now, I fear that we will have to delve into our reserves before the dead even start their attack."
"The reserves we have at present should be able to sustain our entire population, the Wildlings and the armies coming up North for at least a year." Catelyn frowned, trying to find her numbers in the mess of papers before her.
"Yes," Lord Overton agreed. "But that was excluding the southern armies. Ten thousand Valemen, ten thousand Riverlanders, forty thousand more of various other allegiances that have arrived or that are in the process of arriving…that is much, especially since they will have to be fed proper rations."
"The Crown has promised to give even more food supplies than we already have," Catelyn answered, taking Sansa's raven as proof. One of the concessions of Tumbleton and one of the burdens inflicted on the Tyrells…
"With due respect, Lady Regent, I do not trust the Crown…"
"Well, if you have any other solution, Lord Overton, I am listening." Catelyn narrowed her eyes. "Because apart from sending these soldiers – soldiers which we absolutely need to face the common threat – home, then I do not know what you wish to do."
"Not to mention, Lord Overton, that much of our population has already started fleeing," Gamyn Flint, a Flint of Flint's Finger, pointed out. "Moat Cailin has reported columns of people fleeing towards the Neck, wishing to try their chance with the swamps rather than the dead. As it stands, those are much fewer mouths we have to feed…"
"Which also raises the point of properly keeping the Kingsroad open, both for reinforcements and for the steady supply of food!" Daryn Hornwood took over from the Flint. "If the Kingsroad is flooded with columns of fleeing smallfolk, it slows down the pace of reinforcements and supplies…"
"And blocks Moat Cailin as smallfolk start to realise the folly of trying to cross the Neck," Harlon Knott, a Mountain Clansmen with a thick, brown, beard and long hair scoffed. "They run south, and then realise that south of Moat Cailin lies the graveyard of the Andals, with swamps as far as the eyes can see."
