Catelyn had never liked Ned's Gods, never liked godswood of Winterfell, never cared for her husband's bastard though much to chargain that boy turned out to the rightful king and now she hated him more. Catelyn had been anointed with the seven oils and named in the rainbow of light that filled the sept of Riverrun. She was of the Faith, like her father and grandfather and his father before him. Her gods had names, and their faces were as familiar as the faces of her parents.
Now as she walked to godswood of Riverrun, a place the Tullys kept to walk or read or lie in the sun, as all the great houses did, a garden with green canopy of leaves, filled by tall redwoods and great old elms, with the heart tree, a slender weirwood, in the center with a face more sad than the tree with melancholy of Winterfell.
Ned had been coming to pray to the old gods now more so than anytime since their marriage, ever since the letter came from Winterfell with tellings of capture of their daughter by basta.... Aemon Targaryen after the breaking of sacred vows of guest rights. The mere thought of violating the guest right right sent her chills and doubts grew anew. Is it true, was it really her daughter or some folly of the targaryen spawn and treachery of Lord Manderly.
She found Ned kneeling before the heart tree, his greatsword lay in front of him in offering, his gloved hands clasped together. Around him others knelt Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover, and more. The old houses of North who have kept their old gods. It would not do to disturb them at their prayers and so Catelyn waited.
Ned got to his feet slowly and picked up his sword hesitantly, and Catelyn found herself wondering what is it that made her husband hesitant.
"Lady Stark," Ned said when he saw her standing there. "What is it."
"There was grievous letter send, my lord. The Eyrie had fallen." she said. "My sister Lysa and nephew had been captured by the Targaryens."
His eyes found hers, and Ned could see how hard it took her, and he felt the same. In his youth, he had fostered at the Eyrie, the seat of Lord Arryn who had become a second father to him and his fellow ward and brother, Robert Baratheon.
"I am sorry, Cat… for your sister and for nephew. But I do believe nothing evil shall befall on them." Ned said for he could see the grief and worry in her wife's eye.
"The boy may as well burn my sister, nephew and uncle Brynden who had rushed to Vale in support like his grandfather." Catelyn grumbles and her words gives the rise of uneasiness amongst the lord present.
Ned could see the affect of her wife's word on the lords and his mouth tightens in anger, "Jon will not, he is as much as my son as Robb and I know his nature well. He may burn down many castle, forts and men but not a single innocent shall die by his order that I know for true."
"And what of our daughter, my lord. Would you be ready to watch our girl burn for the crime the letter say she committed." Catelyn face turned hard and she continues, "What of my father's house, they took part in the rebellion and you sending him to Night's watch. The boy may as well bring fire and ash to us for our actions towards him."
Ned did not feign surprise: he knew her wife's reaction were for the safety of her children but he knew results of war and it was not in his heart to lie about it, "Sansa broke the rights ..." Seeing Catelyn open her mouth, he interrupted her reason and excuse, "It matters not if her actions killed guests or not, to even think of killing your guest never mind poisoning of food it crime foulest of all. We all have heard of Rat Cook."
A shiver ran down Catelyn body but she persistent on matter continues, "And what of North, my lord. North lay a major part in the rebellion and he is Aerys grandson for all matter with a fire raining dragon in his hand."
Ned reigned his temper at his wife call on his sister's son, comparing him to Aerys and his own son for he cared same for him. "Aemon is as much Rickard's grandson as he is Aerys. As for the North, Jon cares for it as much as any true Northmen for did he not take actions against the Ironborns?" He asks rhetorically to lords present. "As for my crimes to send him to Nights Watch, I will take them happily. The Blacks is no prison to Starks."
It was Shiera Seastar who shook him roughly from his dreams of tragedy of fire and Summerhall of his father, Rhaegar's birth and Aemon stumbles into the predawn chill, groggy from sleep to find Jojen Reed, Ser Barristan and Lord Celtigar outside his tent while Beric already mounted on his horse.
Beric broke silence seeing him out of tent, "Pardon breaking your sleep, your grace but Tully banner were seen by our scouts travelling up the High Road up the mountain."
Lord Celtigar starts after him, "Your grace, our men hold the position should they come with anything but thought of surrender they won't see today's dawn. Would you join with Meleys or on horseback."
Aemon brooded for a moment thinking of plans and then turns to Jojen, his eyes and ears. "Who marches under the banner, Lord Reed."
"Its Ser Brynden Tully who marches, your grace." Jojen repiled.
Aemon then turns to Lord Adrian Celtigar, "We march lord Celtigar, however you will march to rear of our camps where not to far from us lay men of Corbray and Waynwood. I will not have our army become wedged between Tully coalition."
Lord Celtigar nods hearing Kings command and rides with his routine to the far end and its Jojen who breaks the silence then, "It was my mistake, your grace. I looked too far away for enemies that I misjudged the foes breathing just down our neck."
Aemon tapped the shoulder of young lad in front of him in appreciation, "Its no big matter, Jojen. Mistakes are part of life and are meant to be remembered so they not get repeated."
Jojen nods and Aemon turns to Ser Barristan Selmy, "You know of him well, Ser Barristan."
Ser Barristan pauses a second to formulate the truth and speaks, " I know him by his actions in The War of the Ninepenny Kings your grace. He is a blunt and stubborn man who does not care what others think. A seasoned warrior, a veteran who had took part in at least half a hundred battles, and a man of honor."
Aemon raised his eyebrow at Ser Barristan for his words, "And should he be captured."
Barristan smiles at Kings words, "Then we gain a reason to suppress Tully and Riverland lords into submission without dragon fire."
They rode knee to knee, in a line when Aemon saw the outline of men emerging from the morning mist. The man leading was tall and after riding much of distance he leaves his men behind and rides ahead alone.
Aemon noticing what the man meant to do stops his men as well and turns to Barristan at his side, "Should they fire arrows once I ride ahead, you will lead the charge, Ser Barristan."
Barristan though hesitant on matter nods knowing the reputation of Blackfish as honorable man and Aemon's talent with swords.
"You burned down an ancient castle boy." The Blackfish was a tall, lean man, grey of hair and precise in his movements, his clean-shaven face lined with a hoarse, smoky voice, the man asks Aemon when they meet in between their armies.
"Lady Arryn refused to kneel and she insulted my men by closing doors to the castle when they came to her door for her fealty." Aemon offers shrugging his shoulders.
"Your grandfather did the same with many lordlings, and you know the fate he suffered." Ser Brynden said.
"And your brother descended upon village of Goodbrook and decided to put them all to the swords Ser Brynden though it matter to nothing now for he was on the winning side." Aemon replies recalling his lessons by Maester Luwin and continues, "You have no more than five hundred men ser, while I command thousands. Tullys wont taste victory here nor in their lands."
Ser Brynden nods his head, "That is for true lad for I know my men are no match to yours but what about you. I will meet you sword to sword. If I win, you give me back my niece and her son. If you slay me, you march to Riverlands with fame to your name, The Blackfish's cook."
Aemon smiles, almost guffawing at the words, recalling his own told to the bastard of Bolton in last life, "Then I'll take your word for it ser Blackfish however I have my own conditions to it."
Brynden Blackfish arched a bushy grey eyebrow at Aemon's approval"More of a fool you boy but tell me your condition, I'll hear it."
Aemon unmounts his horse and lays out his condition, "I agree to winnings meet ser Blackfish but should I win, I will have your fealty to my name as Aemon of House Targaryen, your niece is alive and will be kept alive but on silent sisters while her son would join Nights watch once at age of maturity until then he shall remain hostage to the crown."
Brynden looks at the boy on the ground thoughtfully for he looked younger than his oldest niece's son, and starts with a dangerous smile. "You want to claim fealty of Blackfish who has gone against the wave of his own brother boy." as he unmounts from the horse in agreement of Aemon's condition.
Aemon unsheathes his sword and Brynden gets to see the beauty of infamous bastard valyrian sword. It was much darker compared to any valyrian swords, with smoky appearance and faint reddish-orange sheen. A distinctive red gemstone pommel with intricate dragon-wing guards fitted on it and the naked sword prompted Brynden to do the same with his sheathed sword.
Brynden circles around the boy and starts, "You were not even out of your mother teats boy when I had already killed hundreds if not thousands. Listen well boy the first rule of war, is to never give the enemy his wish and you just gave me a field of my own choosing."
By then Brynden finished he had his sword going for the boy's neck and yet somehow Blackyre was already at the juncture to block. The force of impact almost knocked the blade of his hand, and sent him staggering backward.
He then shifts to a two-hand grip, quick enough to deliver a stroke at his chest, but the young lad parries it aside with contemptuous ease. Back and forth they continued, their cloaks swirling, Brynden tried many of times to close the gap between them but the
youth's quickness rivaled that of wild cat. His own strength being matched by a boy of ten and five.
Then the counter from the boy started and by the God's the bastard sword seemed to be everywhere at once, raining down from one side and then the other, driving him where he would, always keeping him off balance.
Then the boy started, his voice most smug that he had heard from all conversation since earlier, "Do you know what my first rule of war says, Ser Brynden." and despite his arms going numb Brynden opened his ears wide to hear them all the same, "It says to never fight a battle one on one that you may never win. One retreat means nothing if you know next chance may give you a win."
Then it happened in an instant, as the boy twisted to widen the space and Brynden saw an opening. Brynden planted and pivoted on heels though it was all but a bait for him to pivot for the next second the Valyrian sword and the boy were at his throat, "I will have your fealty Ser Brynden as it is what my word dictates and your honor compels you to do."