chapter 199 part 1
Chapter 199: The King in the North
Roose Bolton's pale eyes shifted slightly as he began to speak. "My lords, Renly has already raised his banners at Bitterbridge. I believe Lord Tywin will be eager to negotiate with us. I am willing to go to Casterly Rock to discuss terms of a truce with the Lannisters. I will obtain satisfactory—"
"You coward!"
The Greatjon, seated to Robb Stark's left, drowned out Roose Bolton's words with a coarse roar.
Jon Umber, known as the Greatjon, stood nearly seven feet tall, his body covered in thick muscle. When Robb Stark had called his banners at Winterfell, he had openly challenged him with a sword, only to be won over by Robb's courage and charisma. From then on, the Greatjon became Robb's right-hand man and staunchest supporter, vowing to chop off the kneecaps of anyone who would not kneel to Robb.
Maege Mormont pointed at the expressionless Roose Bolton and shouted angrily, "To sue for peace is to show weakness! The men of Bear Island will not lick the boots of a Lannister!"
The white-bearded Rickard Karstark cursed, "To hell with the Lannisters!"
The tent filled with all manner of shouts and curses. Robb raised a hand slightly, signaling for the crowd to quiet down.
Robb's sharp gaze swept over the assembled lords. "The Lannisters have harmed my family."
With a clang, he drew his longsword and laid it on the table before him. The steel blade glinted coldly on the rough wood.
"This is the only way I'll negotiate with the Lannisters," he said in a low voice.
The Greatjon was the first to loudly agree, and the others quickly followed suit. The lords present either roared in approval or slammed their fists on the tables.
Amidst the clamor, the Greatjon suddenly leaped to his feet and bellowed, "My lords!"
The Greatjon's voice echoed through the tent, and all eyes focused on him.
"Hear my thoughts on these two kings!"
The Greatjon spat, then continued, "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, and neither is Stannis. Why should we be ruled by someone sitting in flowery Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall, the wolfswood, or the barrows of the First Men? Even the gods they worship are not the true gods. As for the Lannisters, may the Others take them!"
"I've had enough of it!" The Greatjon reached over his shoulder and drew his two-handed greatsword.
"Why can't we rule ourselves as we did in the old days?"
His greatsword pointed toward Robb, who sat in the lord's seat. He continued, "My lords, I have no problem kneeling to a king. But I will only kneel to this king."
With a thud, the Greatjon knelt before Robb, his voice like thunder. "The King in the North!"
The tent fell silent for a moment. Rickard Karstark slowly rose to his feet and said, "If that's how it is, let those shits keep playing with the Red Keep and their iron chair!"
Rickard Karstark drew his own sword and shouted, "The King in the North!"
Maege Mormont stood up immediately after, her voice ringing out, "The King in the North!"
*Clang, clang, clang, clang...* One by one, the bannermen of House Stark rose, drawing their swords and dropping to one knee in Robb's direction.
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
...
Since Aegon the Conqueror united the Seven Kingdoms, this ancient title, unheard for three hundred years, had been resurrected, its thunderous echo resounding through the Neck.
...
...
Five days later, at the Eyrie.
The sunrise over the Vale of Arryn painted the eastern sky in hues of rose and gold. Catelyn Tully rested her hands on the ornately carved railing outside her window, gazing at the gradually spreading light.
Dawn crept across fields and forests, and the world beneath her feet turned from pitch black to deep blue, then to a tea-green. Ghostly waterfalls burst from the mountain ridges, beginning their long journey down the Giant's Lance. White mist churned above Alyssa's Tears.
Legend told that Alyssa Arryn had witnessed the brutal murders of her husband, brothers, and children with dry eyes, never shedding a single tear. So the gods decreed that in death she would weep forever, until her tears irrigated the black, fertile soil of the valley plain where her loved ones were buried... Alyssa had been dead for six thousand years, yet not a single drop of the river had ever reached the valley floor.
*My Ned...* Thinking of her husband, Lady Catelyn was overcome with grief.
Ned had told her... *The living go south, and the bones come back north.* He belonged to Winterfell. He had repeated it to her again and again, but had she listened? No, she had told him: You must go. Go and be Robert's Hand of the King. Not just for our House, but for our children... It was all my fault, my fault alone... Lady Catelyn wondered how great a waterfall her own tears would become after she died.
"Good morrow, Cat," came Petyr Baelish's raspy voice.
Lady Catelyn did not turn. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions. "Petyr, you should address me as Lady Stark. Or Lady Catelyn."
Petyr, dressed immaculately in a black-and-gray velvet doublet, stood with his hands behind his back. "My apologies. Lately, I find myself thinking of when we were children. I often get carried away."
"I do not like that excuse, Littlefinger."
Having said this, Catelyn turned to face Petyr, her composure seemingly restored.
Petyr first gave a helpless smile, then said, "I will try to do better, Lady Catelyn."
Catelyn looked into Petyr's eyes and shivered... She too had recently found herself recalling things she hadn't thought of in years. She remembered when they were young... She had been about Sansa's age now, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still. She and her sister had taken turns playing the kissing game with him, one moment solemn, the next giggling uncontrollably. The memory was now vivid.
Catelyn's pupils contracted slightly. She remembered now... Back then, Lysa had shyly and secretly told her that Petyr had tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, and Lysa had excitedly said she liked it very much... Had her sister started falling for Littlefinger back then?
Catelyn's expression grew colder... The shy young girl she once knew had grown into a woman who was by turns arrogant, anxious, and detached from reality, careless and fearful... Worst of all, how dare she place her own sister under house arrest?
Catelyn's voice was frigid. "Petyr, unless you are here to let me leave the Eyrie, I refuse this meeting."
A few days ago, Catelyn, truly worried about the situation outside, had swallowed her anger and sought out Petyr. The result... not only did she receive heart-wrenching news, but she also witnessed a crazed Lysa afterward.
Petyr spread his hands. "Lady Catelyn, I cannot stand by and watch you two sisters destroy each other..."
He seemed quite helpless, sighing softly before continuing, "I only wish to do everything in my power to help the two of you reconcile."