Roose Bolton's light-colored eyes flickered slightly as he spoke, "Gentlemen, Renly has already raised an army at Bitterbridge. I think Lord Tywin will be eager to negotiate peace with us. I am willing to go to Casterly Rock to negotiate truce terms with the Lannister. I will get satisfactory terms..."
"You coward!"
Greatjon sat to Robb Stark's Left Hand, his rough roar drowning out Roose Bolton's words.
Jon Umber, also known as Greatjon, was nearly seven feet tall and covered in thick muscles. When Robb Stark gathered his vassals in Winterfell, he openly challenged him with his sword, but was ultimately won over by Robb's courage and charisma. From then on, Greatjon became Robb's Right Hand and most steadfast supporter, vowing to cut off the knees of anyone who did not kneel before Robb.
Dacey Mormont pointed at the expressionless Roose Bolton and roared, "Begging for peace is a sign of weakness! The Bear Island will never lick the Lannister ' boots!"
Rickard Stark Karstark, his face covered in white beard, roared, "To hell with the Lannister!"
The tent was filled with shouts and curses. Robb slightly raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.
Robb's sharp gaze swept over the assembled vassals. " The Lannister have harmed my family," he said.
With a whoosh, he drew his longsword and placed it on the table in front of him; the sharp steel blade gleamed coldly against the rough wood.
He said in a deep voice, "This is the only thing I'll use to negotiate with the Lannister."
Greatjon was the first to loudly agree, and the others followed suit, with the vassals either shouting or slamming their fists on the table.
Amidst the shouts and commotion, Greatjon suddenly leaped to his feet and cried out, "My lords!"
Greatjon's voice echoed in the tent, and all eyes turned to him.
"Let me tell you my thoughts on these two kings!"
Greatjon spat and continued, " Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor is Stannis. Why should we be ruled by those sitting on the ground in Highgarden Dorne? What do they know about the the Wall of the End, the Wolfswood, or the Barrowlands? Even their gods aren't real gods. As for the Lannister, let the White Walker take them!"
"I've had enough!" Greatjon reached over his shoulder and drew his two-handed greatsword.
Why can't we just take care of ourselves like we used to?
He pointed his two greatswords at Robb, who sat in the main seat, and continued, "My lords, I have no problem kneeling before the king, but I will only kneel before this one king."
With a thud, Greatjon knelt before Robb, his voice booming. "Long live the King in the North!"
A hush fell over the tent. Rickard Stark Karstark slowly rose and said, "In that case, let those bastards continue playing with the Red Castle and the Iron Chair!"
Rickard Stark Karstark drew his sword and shouted, "Long live the King in the North!"
Maggie Mormont then stood up and proclaimed, "Long live the King in the North!"
With a series of whooshing sounds, the House Stark vassals rose to their feet, drew their swords, and knelt on one knee in Robb's direction.
Long live the King in the North!
Long live the King in the North!
Long live the King in the North!
Long live the King in the North!
Long live the King in the North!
Since Aegon the Conqueror unified the Seven Kingdoms, this ancient title, unheard of for three hundred years, has reappeared in grand style for the first time, resounding throughout the Neck Camp.
Five days later, Eyrie.
The sunrise in the Vale of Arryn painted the eastern sky with roses and gold. Catelyn Tully rested her hands on the ornately carved railings outside the window, gazing at the gradually spreading light.
Dawn climbs over fields and forests, the world beneath her feet transforming from pitch black to deep blue, then to lush green. Ghostly waters surge from the mountain ridges, beginning their long journey of cascading down the Giant's Lance, while white mist billows above the Alyssa's Tears (the waterfall's name).
Legend has it that Alyssa Arryn witnessed the brutal murder of her husband, brothers, and children while she was alive, yet she never shed a tear. So the Gods decreed that after her death she would weep incessantly until her tears watered the black, fertile plains of the canyon, for her loved ones were buried there... Lysa has been dead for six thousand years, yet not a single drop of water has flowed to the bottom of the valley.
My Ned ... Lady Catelyn was overcome with grief as she thought of her husband.
Ned had told her... the living go south, the dead return north, he belonged to Winterfell, he repeated to her again and again, but did she listen? No, she told him: You must go, go and be Robert's Hand of the King, not only for our family, but also for our children... It's all my fault, all my fault... Lady Catelyn thought to herself, how much of a waterfall her tears would become after she died.
"Good day, Cat," came Petyr Baelish's hoarse voice.
Lady Catelyn didn't turn around. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and said, " Petyr, you should call me Lady Stark, or Lady Catelyn."
Petyr, dressed impeccably in a black and gray velvet robe, stood with his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry, lately I keep thinking about our childhood, and often I can't help myself."
"I don't like that reason, Littlefinger."
After speaking, Catelyn turned to look at Petyr, having regained her composure.
Petyr smiled helplessly at first, then said, "I will try my best to correct it, Lady Catelyn."
Catelyn's eyes trembled slightly as she looked at Petyr... Lately, she would occasionally think of things she hadn't thought about for many years, remembering how young they were... She herself was about the same age as Sansa now, Lysa was younger than Arya, and Petyr was even younger. She and her sister would take turns playing kissing games with him, sometimes serious, sometimes giggling. Now, recalling it all, it was all so vivid in her memory.
Catelyn's pupils contracted slightly. She remembered... back then, when Lysa was with her, she shyly whispered that Petyr wanted to put his penis in her mouth, Lysa excitedly said she liked it... Had her sister developed a liking for Littlefinger from that moment?
Catelyn's face grew even colder... The shy the Maiden she once knew had grown into a woman who was sometimes arrogant, sometimes fearful, and sometimes unrealistic, careless, and cowardly... Worst of all, she dared to imprison her own sister?!
Catelyn's voice was cold. " Petyr, I refuse to meet with you unless it's to let me leave the Eyrie."
A few days ago, Catelyn was so worried about what was happening outside that she suppressed her anger and went to Petyr, only to learn some heartbreaking news and then witness Lysa going mad.
Petyr shrugged and said, " Lady Catelyn, I can't just stand by and watch you sisters kill each other..."
He seemed helpless, sighed softly, and continued, "I just want to do everything I can to make my sister and younger sister reconcile."
A flash of anger crossed Lady Catelyn's eyes. "Is it my fault? 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 Petyr was speaking, he wanted to step forward to comfort her, but he stopped in his tracks at the warning look in Catelyn's eyes.
Petyr shrugged slightly, looking a little embarrassed. After a pause, he said, " Catelyn, our Lysa is having nightmares every day. She needs our help."
Catelyn's voice held a hint of sarcasm. "It's your Lysa, isn't it, Littlefinger?"
Catelyn's words seemed to hurt Petyr deeply. " Catelyn, I think you should know that after Lysa married into the Vale, she suffered many miscarriages, and her mental state has always been... very bad."
Petyr sighed and took a small step forward. He continued, "At least Lysa trusts that I, her childhood friend, won't hurt her. She's willing to believe me and listen to my advice... Since my love can help her in her helplessness, how can I hesitate, Cat?"
Five miscarriages, plus two stillbirths... Catelyn couldn't imagine Lysa's grief; she thought that if it were her, she would be overwhelmed with indescribable sorrow.
When Catelyn came 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. " Cat, my heart has always been there, never moved."
Catelyn's anger intensified, and she warned again, " Petyr!"
Petyr gave a bitter smile and took a step back.
Catelyn then spoke, " Petyr, I don't want to repeat myself, please call me Lady Stark!"
Petyr feigned anger and said, "I can only accept being called Lady Catelyn at most, but you want me to call you Starr... I'd rather go see the Stranger!"
Catelyn remained unmoved by Petyr's teasing. She turned to the side, extending one hand towards the windowsill, and said with a cold smile, "Please!"
Petyr was taken aback at first, then coughed a few times to cover his embarrassment.
He avoided Catelyn's gaze with shame, but said in a disgruntled tone, " Lady Stark."
Catelyn stared coldly at Petyr, who looked embarrassed. Although she didn't show it on her face, she was actually... momentarily dazed, as if what had just happened was a scene from her childhood replaying itself.
What a cunning fellow, that's Littlefinger.
Catelyn turned to face the window and said calmly, "Please leave. I don't want to be bothered by you anymore."
Catelyn's auburn hair shone with a captivating glow in the morning light; she was as beautiful as ever, utterly mesmerizing to him.
"Your Excellency, Lady Stark, are you sure you want me to leave?"
Petyr's lips curled slightly as he continued, "I just received news from your eldest son. If you're not interested..."
Catelyn quickly turned to Petyr, her tone urgent. " Robb news? Tell me, what news?"
"It's good news, don't worry, Cat."
Petyr first offered a reassuring remark, then continued, "I may have to abandon all the ways I used to address you..."
He gave a graceful, slight bow, looked up at Catelyn, and said, " Robb has declared himself King in the North, Queen Mother Catelyn."
The King in the North? Catelyn covered her mouth in disbelief.
Why did Robb make such a reckless move?
Their only enemy was the Lannister, but now they have to add the Baratheon brothers to the mix. The North will soon be isolated and helpless, or rather, surrounded by enemies.
Ned's misfortune has devastated Catelyn. Once her two daughters return safely, she longs to go home and mourn her deceased husband until the end.
Catelyn hoped that Robb would inherit his father's title peacefully, rule Winterfell, kiss a girl's lips in the Godswood, marry, have children, and live happily ever after.
Catelyn retorted angrily, "If I hadn't been imprisoned here, I could definitely have prevented this from happening."
Catelyn's heart was in turmoil... She and her son had rallied the North army for their safety, and she desperately wanted the war to end as soon as possible... Would the Lannister and Baratheon join forces against her son?
Petyr's smile deepened, his eyes gleaming. " Cat, it sounds... you think your son proclaimed himself King in the North because of the encouragement of others?"
"Of course!"
"Not necessarily..."
You don't understand my son!
Petyr maintained his smile, " Cat, I may not understand your son, but I understand people's hearts."
He said slowly, "Besides himself, who can sway Stark's stubbornness?"
Catelyn leaned limply against the windowsill... Robb's personality was so much like his father's... No one could sway their decision... Why was he in such a hurry to declare himself king? Didn't he see the problems that would follow? Catelyn couldn't guess the reason.
Catelyn suddenly looked at Petyr and said, " Petyr, I must get back to my son. He needs me! Please help me!"
Petyr was conflicted. " Cat, you know I don't want to refuse you..."
He sighed and said, " Lysa won't let you leave. In fact, my current situation... is pretty much the same as yours. The only place I can move around is this castle."
"You're cunning, you'll definitely find 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 saying that, he paced back and forth a few times, then stroked his chin in deep thought.
After a pause, Petyr looked at Catelyn and said, " Cat, Robb's declaration as King in the North is irreversible, and... I don't think your son would agree to retract this decision either; it concerns the dignity of the ruler."
Catelyn had to admit Petyr was right... Robb wasn't just his son; he was Ned's heir. He had already declared himself king; he had come this far, and his vassals were watching him... If she tried to stop him, it would be like a mother forcing her child to bed without giving him dinner; his vassals would laugh behind his back at the lord being disciplined by his mother... Robb needed the respect, even the fear, of his vassals, and ridicule was the poison of fear.
Petyr smiled elegantly and confidently, " Cat, don't worry, now that I've raised the question, I'll naturally help you solve it."