Roose Bolton's pale eyes flickered as he spoke, "Gentlemen, Renly Baratheon has already raised an army at Bitterbridge. I believe Lord Tywin Lannister will be eager to negotiate peace with us. I am willing to go to Casterly Rock to negotiate the terms of a truce with the Lannister. I will secure a satisfactory…"
"You coward!"
Greatjon sat to Robb Stark's left, his rough roar drowning out Roose Bolton's words.
Jon Umber, known as Greatjon, stood nearly seven feet tall, his body thick with muscle. When Robb Stark summoned his vassals to Winterfell, Greatjon had openly challenged him with a sword, but was ultimately won over by Robb's courage and charisma. From then on, Greatjon became Robb's right-hand man and most steadfast supporter, vowing to chop off the knees of anyone who refused to kneel before Robb.
Daisy Mormont pointed at the expressionless Roose Bolton and roared, "Begging for peace is a sign of weakness! The Mormont will never lick the Lannister's boots!"
Rickard Karstark, with a full white beard, cursed, "To hell with the Lannister!"
The tent was filled with various shouts and curses. Robb slightly raised his hand, signaling everyone to be silent.
Robb's sharp gaze swept over the vassals present and he said, "The Lannister have harmed my family."
With a *clang*, he drew his longsword and placed it on the table in front of him, the polished steel blade gleaming coldly on the rough wood.
He said in a deep voice, "I will only negotiate with the Lannister with this."
Greatjon was the first to loudly agree, and others also expressed their consent, with the vassals present either shouting along or pounding their fists on the table.
Amidst the clamor, Greatjon suddenly leaped up and shouted loudly, "My Lords!"
Greatjon's voice echoed through the tent, and everyone's gaze focused on him.
"Let me tell you what I think of these two kings!"
Greatjon spat, then continued, "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, and Stannis is the same. Why should people sitting in Highgarden or Dorne, where flowers bloom everywhere, rule us? What do they know of The Wall, Wolfswood, and the barrows of the First Men? Even the gods they worship are not true gods. As for the Lannister, let the Others take them!"
"I've had enough!" Greatjon reached over his shoulder and drew his two-handed greatsword.
"Why can't we rule ourselves like before?"
His two-handed greatsword pointed at Robb, who was seated at the head of the table, and he continued, "My Lords, I have no problem kneeling to a king, but I will only kneel to this one king."
With a *thud*, Greatjon knelt before Robb, his voice like thunder: "Long live the King of the North!"
Silence fell over the tent. Rickard Karstark slowly Rose and said, "In that case, let those bastards keep playing with the Red Keep and the Iron Throne!"
Rickard Karstark drew his sword and shouted, "Long live the King of the North!"
Maege Mormont immediately stood up and proclaimed, "Long live the King of the North!"
*Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang*… The Stark vassals one by one stood up, drew their swords, and knelt on one knee towards Robb.
"Long live the King of the North!"
"Long live the King of the North!"
"Long live the King of the North!"
"Long live the King of the North!"
"Long live the King of the North!"
…
Since Aegon the Conqueror united the Seven Kingdoms, this ancient title, unheard of for three hundred years, grandly reappeared for the first time, echoing through the Neck encampment.
…
…
Five days later, Eyrie.
The sunrise over the Vale of Arryn painted the eastern sky in shades of Rose and gold. Catelyn Tully rested her hands on the elaborately carved railing outside the window, gazing at the gradually spreading light.
Dawn crept over fields and forests, and the world beneath her feet transformed from pitch black to deep blue, then to verdant green. Ghostly waters rushed from the mountain ridges, beginning their long journey, surging down the Giant's Lance, and white mist billowed over Alyssa's Tears (a waterfall).
It was rumored that Alyssa Arryn had watched her husband, brothers, and children brutally murdered during her lifetime, yet never shed a single tear. So the gods decreed that after her death, she would weep endlessly until her tears watered the black fertile plains of the valley, for all those she loved were buried there… Alyssa had been dead for six thousand years, yet to this day not a single drop of river water has reached the valley floor.
My Ned… Lady Catelyn was filled with immense grief remembering her husband.
Ned had told her… the living go south, the bones return north, he belonged to Winterfell, he repeated it to her again and again, but did she listen? No, she told him: You must go, go be Robert's Hand, not only for our family, but for our children… It's all my fault, my fault alone… Lady Catelyn thought, how big a waterfall her tears would become after she died.
"Good day, Cate," Petyr Baelish's hoarse voice came.
Lady Catelyn did not turn around. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions, and said, "Petyr, you should address me as Lady Stark, or Lady Catelyn."
Petyr, dressed in a neat black and grey velvet robe, stood with his hands behind his back: "My apologies, lately I keep remembering things from when we were children, and often I can't help myself."
"I don't like that reason, Littlefinger."
After speaking, Catelyn turned to face Petyr, having regained her outward composure.
Petyr first gave a helpless smile, then said, "I will try to correct myself, Lady Catelyn."
Catelyn looked at Petyr, her eyes trembling slightly… Lately, she too would occasionally recall things she hadn't thought about for many years, remembering how young they were then… She herself was about Sansa's age now, Lysa was younger than Arya, and Petyr was even younger. She and her sister would take turns playing kissing games with him, sometimes with great seriousness, sometimes giggling. Now, recalling it, it was all so vivid.
Catelyn's pupils constricted. She remembered… At that time, when Lysa was with her, she shyly whispered to her that Petyr wanted to put his ** into her mouth, and Lysa excitedly said she liked it very much… Did her sister fall in love with Littlefinger from that moment on?
Catelyn's expression grew colder… The shy girl she knew had grown into a woman who was sometimes arrogant, sometimes fearful, or perhaps ethereal and impractical, careless and timid… The worst part was that she dared to imprison her own sister?!
Catelyn's voice was very cold: "Petyr, if you are not letting me leave Eyrie, I refuse to meet with you."
A few days ago, Catelyn was so worried about the situation outside that she suppressed her anger and sought out Petyr, but… not only did she receive heartbreaking news, she also saw a frantic Lysa afterwards.
Petyr spread his hands and said, "Lady Catelyn, I cannot just stand by and watch you sisters harm each other…"
He seemed very helpless, sighing softly, then continued, "I only want to do my best to reconcile the sisters."
Lady Catelyn's eyes flashed with anger: "Is it my problem? If it weren't for my sister, if it weren't for my trust in her, would I have come here alone?!"
"Don't be angry…"
As he spoke, Petyr tried to step forward to comfort her, but Catelyn's warning gaze stopped him.
Petyr shrugged slightly, looking a bit awkward, then paused and said, "Catelyn, our Lysa has nightmares every day, she needs our help."
Catelyn's voice held a hint of sarcasm: "Your Lysa, I suppose, Littlefinger."
Catelyn's words seemed to hurt Petyr: "Catelyn, I think you should know that after Lysa married into the Vale, she had many miscarriages, and her mental state has always been… not good."
Petyr sighed as he took a small step forward, then added, "At least Lysa trusts me, her childhood friend, not to harm her. She is willing to trust me, willing to listen to my advice… Since my love can help her in her helplessness, how can I hesitate, Cate?"
Five miscarriages, plus two stillbirths… Catelyn could not imagine Lysa's sorrow. She thought if it were her, she would certainly be in unspeakable grief.
When Catelyn came back to her senses, Petyr was already standing in front of her.
Catelyn's voice was filled with warning: "Petyr!"
This time, Petyr ignored Catelyn's warning: "Cate, my heart has always stayed there, never moved."
Catelyn's anger intensified, and she warned again: "Petyr!"
Petyr smiled bitterly, then took a step back.
Only then did Catelyn speak: "Petyr, I don't want to repeat myself, please call me Lady Stark!"
Petyr feigned anger and said, "The most I can accept is calling you Lady Catelyn. As for calling me Sta… I'd rather meet the stranger!"
Catelyn was unmoved by Petyr's teasing. She turned sideways, extending one hand towards the windowsill, a cold sneer on her face: "Please!"
Petyr was momentarily stunned, then cleared his throat a few times, covering his embarrassment.
He shyly avoided Catelyn's gaze, yet his voice was filled with dissatisfaction: "Lady Stark."
Catelyn stared coldly at the embarrassed Petyr. Though she showed no emotion on her face, she actually… felt a momentary disorientation, as if a childhood scene had just replayed.
What a cunning fellow, that's so Littlefinger.
Catelyn turned around, facing the window, and said calmly, "Please leave here, I don't wish to be disturbed by you again."
Catelyn's auburn hair glowed captivatingly in the morning light; she was still as beautiful, captivating him.
"Esteemed Lady Stark, are you sure you want me to withdraw?"
Petyr's lips curved slightly as he continued, "I have just received news of your eldest son. If you are not interested…"
Catelyn quickly turned to Petyr, her voice somewhat urgent: "News of Robb? Tell me, what is the news?"
"It's good news, don't worry, Cate."
Petyr first offered a calming remark, then continued, "I may have to abandon all my previous forms of address for you…"
He bowed elegantly, then looked up at Catelyn and said, "Robb has proclaimed himself King of the North, Queen Catelyn."
King of the North? Catelyn covered her mouth in disbelief.
Why would Robb make such a reckless move!
Their enemies were originally only the Lannister, but now they would have to add the two Baratheon brothers. The North would quickly become isolated, or rather, surrounded by enemies.
Ned's misfortune had already caused Catelyn unbearable pain. Once her two daughters returned safely, she longed to return home and weep for her deceased husband until her dying day.
Catelyn hoped that Robb would safely inherit his father's title, rule Winterfell, kiss a girl's lips in the Godswood, marry, have children, and live a happy life.
Catelyn said angrily, "If I hadn't been imprisoned here by you, I certainly could have prevented this from happening."
Catelyn's heart was in turmoil… She and her son had gathered the armies of the North for the safety of their family. How she wished for this war to end quickly… Would the Lannister and Baratheon unite against her son?
Petyr's smile deepened, his eyes glinting: "Cate, it sounds like… you think your son proclaimed himself King of the North because of others' instigation?"
"Of course, that's it!"
"Not necessarily…"
"You don't understand my son!"
Petyr maintained his smile: "Cate, I may not understand your son, but I understand human nature."
He slowly said, "Who can shake the stubbornness of a Stark, except himself?"
Catelyn's body leaned weakly against the windowsill… Robb's character was so much like his father's… No one could sway their decisions… Why was he so eager to proclaim himself king? Did he not see the problems that would arise from becoming king? Catelyn couldn't guess the reason.
Catelyn suddenly looked at Petyr and said, "Petyr, I must return to my son's side, he needs me! Please help me!"
Petyr looked troubled: "Cate, you know I can't bear to refuse you…"
He sighed, then added, "Lysa won't let you leave, and even my current situation… can be said to be similar to yours. The only place I can move around is this castle."
You are cunning, you must have a way! Catelyn thought to herself: "Petyr, help me, I'll owe you a favor."
After a moment of silence, under Catelyn's expectant gaze, Petyr nodded helplessly and said, "Let me think…"
After speaking, he paced back and forth a few steps, then pondered with his chin in his hand.
After a pause, Petyr looked at Catelyn and said, "Cate, Robb's proclamation as King of the North is irreversible, and… I don't think your son would agree to retract that decision. It concerns the ruler's dignity."
Catelyn had to admit that Petyr made a lot of sense… Robb was not just her son, he was Ned's heir, he had already proclaimed himself king, he had come this far, and his vassals were all watching him… If she were to stop him, it would be like a mother sending a child to bed and not giving him dinner, his vassals would mock their liege lord behind his back for being disciplined by his mother… Robb needed his vassals' respect, even their fear, and mockery was poison to fear.
Petyr revealed an elegant and confident smile: "Cate, don't worry. Since I have raised the problem, I will naturally help you solve it."
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