- Mattias -
Mattias gathered enough about the situation that the seven kingdoms found themselves in. The war of five kings was not a pleasant event for anyone, especially for the small folks.
War always ends up horribly and there are no winners in the end beside those who are not in the front lines and pulling the strings.
He rubbed his chin as he sat down on a stone he created. Mattias sees that the Stark are on the losing end considering Robb isn't suited in handling warfare especially how he is most likely distracted by women.
'If only he kept himself from bedding that girl and waited until he benefited from the Frey.'
Mattias finds his action rather foolish since he could easily use the Frey by manipulating and slowly weakening the said Frey by letting them handle the war.
Of course, he could have negotiated and made some deals that the Frey won't refuse.
If he gathered information on what kind of person Frey was and how he could use their personality and antics to his advantage then things would have ended differently.
In war, they are no allies, only shared interests.
Especially the Frey.
'Still for a land that lasted for hundreds of years there is hardly any progress.'
It took earth only a few hundred years to finally reach the moon.
He is trying to set his goal since there is hardly anything that could threaten him considering the might he possessed.
'Guess I'll just conquer this place and change its system because I have nothing else to do.'
Mattias shrugged as he finally decided on what to do.
"I-I did what you promised! Please let me live!"
The survivor said, quivering as he was on his knees begging to be let go.
"Yes. A deal is a deal." He said as he stood up and the relief in the man's face.
"Thank you! Thank you!"
The man stood up and began to escape only for his vision to swirl and saw his own headless body with despair, confusion and betrayal plastered on his now decapitated head.
"What? Don't look at me like that. I did let you live…for a while."
Mattias won't let someone who tried to kill go unless they have some benefit being alive rather than dead.
He searched their belongings and found a map. Mattias was between the north and king's landing near the twins.
Mattias has the choice of heading to find the Starks and offer them a deal or deal with kingslanding.
'I think it's best to deal with the stark first and move my way to kingslanding.'
If he were to conquer kingslanding without allying with the north then it wouldn't be as fun and would basically speedrun the entire game.
You could say….game of throne.
Mattias shook his head at his joke and decided to change his outfit since he found his clothes to look rather ridiculous.
He looked at all the metal and began to manipulate it like it's nothing and created an equipment for him to wear.
It was more for aesthetics than actual protection.
His body including his eyes are stronger and won't even faze by being stabbed by metal.
I mean moving at supersonic speed without destroying his eyes shows that it's stronger than it looks.
He took their garment and added small pieces of metal to design his own attire.
Eventually, he looked like a proper dark knight and despite it all was able to move rather easily thanks to using magnetic abilities assisted by his metal bending.
Mattias used his seismic sense once more to look for people and found no one. He decided to fly to get a clear view of his surroundings.
He let the horse of the people he killed go then flew in the sky using his iron woven cloak shaping it into angelic wings.
Why does he do it? Cause why not.
He heads towards the twin since from what he heard, the Stark army headed to the twin to unite the Frey and Stark along with the Tully which meant he's near the time of the red wedding.
Mattias would be disappointed if they all died but not a deal breaker to him. He'll simply slaughter the Frey to spoil his fun.
Was he acting like Psycho at how uncaring he started to feel? Not really, the Frey are different types of scum.
- Catelyn -
Catelyn was at utter loss. Everything had fallen apart. Her son was killed by the bastard Frey and she was kept alive to be bargaining chips for the Bolton that betrayed the Stark.
She was held hostage by the Bolton to prevent the loyalist to act and the remaining army of the Tully in riverland to attack.
Her brother was captured and killed by the Bolton in front of her eyes.
She wanted to make them pay but there's nothing she can do.
She prayed for the faith but none answered. Catelyn had completely lost her trust to the Gods who had abandoned her family. First her husband now, her eldest son.
Her only hope that kept her alive was the thought of her daughters and remaining son. If she were given the chance then she would offer everything she can to get the opportunity to see those that robbed her of everything to suffer like she did!
"You traitor!" Catelyn's voice cracked like a whip. Pain and fury sharpened every syllable.
"I swear — one day you'll pay for all you've done. For Robb, for Edmure, for my husband—"
She stepped forward, face wet with tears she refused to wipe away.
"You'll answer for this," she hissed, each word a stone thrown at a grave.
Her eyes, swollen from tears and sleeplessness, were fixed on the gruesome sight before her — Robb's body, her son, paraded around the hall with the head of his direwolf sewn crudely onto his shoulders. The Frey men laughed, drumming cups against the tables, mocking the fallen King in the North.
Her chest heaved as rage and despair tangled within her.
"You were supposed to be his ally! His banner-man! He trusted you!" she cried, glaring at the man standing beside her with cold, predatory calm — Roose Bolton.
Roose didn't flinch. He stood with his usual composure, hands clasped neatly behind his back, eyes pale and distant as if none of this carnage truly concerned him. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet, almost bored, yet each word carried the chill of a winter wind.
"Your son was a poor commander," Roose said flatly.
"He broke his word to Lord Frey, and worse — he grew arrogant. The North follows strength, Lady Stark, not honor. And your boy, for all his pride, was… weak."
"Don't you dare speak of him!" Catelyn snarled, jerking against her chains, her voice raw with fury.
"He was ten times the man you'll ever be, Bolton! You butchered your own kin, your liege lord!"
Roose turned his pale eyes on her then — not angry, not amused, simply… assessing.
"Kinship means little when it leads to ruin. My loyalty was to the winning side. You should take comfort, my lady — your son's death was swift. Many others here were not so fortunate."
Her trembling lips parted in disbelief.
"Comfort? You dare speak of comfort while they dance with his corpse?"
Roose tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words.
"I understand your grief," he said, though his tone betrayed no empathy.
"But grief changes nothing. The North will bend. The Freys will have their reward, and I—" he allowed himself a faint, almost ghostly smile.
"—I have been rewarded already."
He brushed his hand lightly across the hilt of his dagger, the one that had ended Robb's life.
Catelyn's breathing quickened as her tears began to fall anew.
"You monster…" she whispered, voice trembling with loathing.
Roose regarded her for a long, silent moment.
"Monsters survive, Lady Stark," he replied softly, turning away as another round of laughter echoed through the hall.
"Men of honor do not."
Catelyn's body shook, her heart shattering with every mocking cheer. She wanted to scream, to tear them all apart — but her voice failed her, drowned beneath the noise of drums and cruel laughter.
And through it all, Roose Bolton simply watched, expressionless, as the feast of betrayal continued.
"Please… someone… help us…"
Catelyn's voice trembled, fragile as a dying ember in the cold void of despair. She prayed to the divine — to the Old Gods, the New, any who would listen — but the heavens remained silent.
No light answered her grief. No mercy stirred the wind.
Only the endless, ebony night lingered… listening.
Then, from that silence, came the reply.
The earth shuddered beneath their feet, a deep, mournful roar rising from the bones of the world itself. The torches flickered. Panic spread like wildfire through the hall as goblets fell and laughter turned to screams.
It was not the gods who answered her prayer.
It was the darkness.
And the darkness had heard her cry.
They broke into chaos.
Men stumbled over one another, boots splashing through mud and blood as the ground quaked beneath them. Horses neighed in terror, breaking their reins, and the air filled with shouts and curses.
"The fuck's goin' on?!" one man yelled, clutching his sword as if it would help against the trembling earth.
"Seven hells?!"
"Shut up! Shut up and everyone calm down!"
The trembling grew louder, not from the earth, but from above.
Then someone screamed, voice cracking through the night.
"LOOK! Up there! by the moon!"
Every head turned.
The battlefield fell silent.
High above, framed in the cold glow of a swollen moon, a figure hung in the air. His armor shimmered faintly, each plate catching the light like liquid silver before swallowing it into shadow. A long cloak billowed behind him, black and vast, like wings woven from midnight itself.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
He simply hovered, a silent, motionless sentinel staring down upon them.
The wind shifted, and every torch flickered in unison. The men below felt their throats dry as an unspoken dread crawled up their spines.
"What the fuck is that… a ghost?"
"No way in seven hells it is, you idiot!"
"Then what—what the hell is that?!"
No answer came. Only that figure — steady, unbothered, almost bored — gazing down at the chaos below as if he stood above all things mortal.
The night grew colder. The air heavier. Every soul present felt it that suffocating pressure that made their knees weak and their hearts pound.
He was more than a man. More than a knight.
He was an omen.
Roose Bolton can't help but feel intrigued and perplexed by the sight of a strange creature in the sky.
He never was man of the supernatural yet he's not a fool to deny what's in front of him was a figment of imagination as a result of delusion when his men and captured Stark and Tully soldiers saw the same thing.
Catelyn's gaze was locked to this new arrival and hoped this is her salvation if not then hoped her enemies died with her.
"Who or what manner of creature are you?" Roose yelled out at the figure who finally moved by his words and looked down at him but it was only brief as his eyes locked into Catelyn.
'I assume that's Catelyn Stark. She's quite the looker and a certified milf. If I know any better she's blessed by the maiden of the faith seeing she has numerous children.'
Mattias thought looking at the red haired beauty below. She didn't look like the T.V show and was rather beautiful, almost like a model back in his world.
Her appearance was a mixture of Christina Hendricks and Triss Marigold from the Witcher. A top class milf.
'Should I entertain, Roose Bolton? Or should I kill him?'
Mattias looked at Roose Bolton since even though he was not a die hard fan of game of thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire giving him a limited knowledge of it does not mean he does not know the Bolton.
Bolton known for their heartless and brutal methods of flaying and torture.
'Nah, killing him would be a waste. I'll let Catelyn and Stark deal with him.'
He descended from the sky and hovered in front of Roose Bolton. Everyone watched stunned at why they were seeing. Many aim their bows and unsheathe their weapons.
All of sudden, Roose fell into his knees as he felt his armor move and grew heavy then metals flew and bounded him. This shocked the Bolton army and fired their arrows only for it to stop.
They were all dumbstruck and Mattias turned at them looking at those who fired their arrows before sending them back instantly killing them.
"What sorcerer is this!" Roose felt perplexed while Mattias ignored him and walked closer to Catelyn.
She saw his face up close. He appeared young, almost the same age as her daughter but more mature than his eldest son.
"I presume you are Catelyn Stark?" His voice was low yet seemingly resounded while Catelyn was left in awe until he spoke.
"I-I am." Catelyn is unsure how to respond since she normally would feel disgusted by those who use magic from her faith. But she was broken and had abandoned the Gods who abandoned her.
"That's good to hear. I have propositions for you."