Chapter 167 — A Narrow Escape
"Could it be that Lysa has sent troops?" Catelyn narrowed her eyes, staring at the distant dust cloud. The silhouettes within it were faint—but the direction was unmistakable.
The Vale.
The Eyrie.
"Very likely," said Robb, clenching his fist, excitement flashing across his face.
If even one army had come to relieve them—
He was confident he could break out.
More reports soon followed.
The Lannister forces on the other two fronts were also moving.
That was enough.
There was no doubt now—
An external army had entered the battlefield.
"Order the cavalry to prepare rations," Robb said sharply to the messenger. "When I give the signal, they eat—and ride with me."
No matter who had come—
He would be ready to strike from within.
Ten minutes later—
Robb finally saw the banners clearly.
Blue field. Crescent moon. Falcon.
The sigil of House Arryn.
"It really is Lysa…" Catelyn whispered, disbelief in her voice.
The sister she had met not long ago—
So changed she was barely recognizable—
And yet she had sent help.
Robb didn't dwell on it.
The reasons could wait.
Survival came first.
Moments later, the armies outside clashed.
Robb gave the order.
The cavalry ate quickly—urgently—devouring what little food they had left.
Three months of siege had drained them.
But now—
Hope had returned.
And with it—
Strength.
Outside the walls, Lannister and Frey forces surged to meet the Vale army.
Battle erupted.
Then—
Robb struck.
He rode out with five thousand cavalry, cutting into the fight like a blade.
Infantry followed close behind, leaving only a skeleton force to hold Riverrun.
The balance shifted instantly.
From stalemate—
To advantage.
The Vale and the North began to press forward.
And then—
Without warning—
The Lannisters and Freys began to withdraw.
Not routed.
Not broken.
Just… retreating.
The Freys pulled northeast, toward The Twins.
The Lannisters fell back southeast, toward King's Landing.
Robb and Yohn Royce didn't hesitate.
They pursued.
Why let the enemy escape?
But they hadn't gone far—
When everything changed.
A shadow fell across the sky.
Vast.
Terrifying.
At the same time, the earth trembled—
Dust rising in great waves across the horizon.
Robb slowed.
Royce's expression darkened.
Only now did they understand—
Why the enemy had withdrawn.
Another force had entered the field.
And it was far more dangerous than either of them.
Royce already knew.
Daenerys Targaryen had come.
With her dragon.
But Robb—
Had never heard.
Not of her arrival.
Not of the dragons.
He stared upward—
At the growing black shadow—
Too stunned to move.
Meanwhile, the retreating Lannister army saw it too.
The dragon ahead.
And behind it—
A tide of Dothraki riders, surging like a storm.
Panic broke.
They turned immediately—
Abandoning their route to King's Landing—
And fled southwest, along the river road.
Escape—
At any cost.
After a brief moment of stunned hesitation, Robb Stark and his cavalry wheeled their mounts and resumed the chase.
But they hadn't gone far—
Before the thunder of hooves overtook them.
A tide of riders surged past.
The Dothraki.
They swept ahead like a storm, effortlessly overtaking Robb's forces.
Uncertain of their allegiance—and wary of friendly fire—Robb immediately raised his hand.
"Hold!"
His army halted.
He lifted his gaze—
Just in time to watch a colossal black shadow sweep overhead.
Only now did he truly grasp it.
The sheer scale of the dragon.
Ahead, the fleeing House Lannister army was already collapsing under pressure.
With the dragon looming above them—
They dared not stand and fight.
They could only retreat while resisting, their ranks steadily thinning under the relentless assault.
Casualties mounted.
Nearly an hour into the pursuit—
A vast mountain range rose in the distance.
At its base stood a massive fortress.
Perched atop Drogon's back, Daenerys Targaryen narrowed her eyes.
They had reached The Golden Tooth—
The gateway to the Westerlands.
The garrison had already spotted the approaching Lannister remnants.
The gates were thrown open in haste.
Cavalry flooded inside—
But before all could enter, the iron gates slammed shut.
Those left outside froze for a heartbeat.
Then turned.
Desperate.
They charged back into battle—
Only to be overwhelmed.
The Dothraki fell upon them like wolves.
Within moments—
They were nearly wiped out.
Only those who surrendered survived.
The Golden Tooth stood firm.
But everyone present knew—
Stone and steel meant nothing before dragonfire.
One breath—
And the fortress would burn.
Yet—
Daenerys did not give the order.
She knew.
And perhaps Drogon did too—
There was no need.
Their objective had already been achieved.
The Lannister army had been halted.
Half of it destroyed.
That was enough.
She glanced once at the fortress—
Then tapped Drogon's back.
They turned.
And left.
Inside the fortress—
Relief swept through the survivors.
They had witnessed—or heard of—the horror at the Gods Eye Lake.
A single blast of dragonfire—
Turning men and horses into brittle remains.
No one here believed walls could save them.
And yet—
They had been spared.
For now.
With the Lannisters driven off and the Freys routed—what remained of House Frey fled back to The Twins.
On the field, Robb finally joined with Yohn Royce.
He was about to offer his thanks—
When movement caught his eye.
Two riders approached from the rear of Royce's formation.
Robb froze.
Then leapt from his horse.
And ran.
Sansa Stark.
Arya Stark.
Two years apart—
And now—
They were here.
The moment they saw him, the last of their composure shattered.
They dismounted and ran forward.
The three of them collided in an embrace—
Tight.
Unyielding.
Tears flowed freely.
A full minute passed before they finally let go.
Robb wiped the tears from his sisters' faces, his voice soft as he asked about their journey.
Only then did he learn—
Why help had come.
Lysa was dead.
And the arrival of Daenerys—with her army and dragons—had changed everything.
It was Sansa and Arya who had convinced the Vale to march.
Robb understood enough.
He turned and formally thanked Royce and the Vale commanders—
Then led them all back to Riverrun.
On the battlements, Catelyn Stark had already seen them.
She didn't wait.
She ran.
Down the walls.
Through the gates.
Out into the open.
She had always believed—
That after escaping the Red Wedding—
She would see her daughters again.
But belief—
Was nothing compared to reality.
Seeing them alive—
Whole—
Before her—
It felt unreal.
The three of them embraced again.
And wept.
Not quietly.
Not with restraint.
But with everything they had endured.
Around them—
Hardened soldiers turned their faces away.
Not out of indifference—
But because the sight struck too deep.
The tragedy of House Stark was known to all.
And now—
At last—
There was reunion.
Later, after the wounded were settled and the army reorganized—
The family finally gathered in private.
Stories were shared.
Carefully.
Sansa and Arya avoided the darkest parts—
Choosing only the essentials.
But neither Catelyn nor Robb was fooled.
Between the lines—
They heard everything.
Sansa—
A hostage in King's Landing—
Surrounded by those who mocked her.
Alone.
Helpless.
And then—
The revelation.
Forced marriage.
To Tyrion Lannister.
At the command of Tywin Lannister.
Robb's hands clenched.
His jaw tightened.
In that moment—
If those men had stood before him—
He would have cut them down without hesitation.