The Northern army's camp, the main tent.
Catelyn slumped in a crude wooden chair, looking as though she had aged ten years overnight.
She clutched a letter from Winterfell, her hands trembling.
The letter brought news from the North.
Winterfell had fallen to the Ironborn, and Bran's fate was unknown.
The tent flap lifted, and Robb strode in, his face still carrying the grim severity of the military council that had just ended.
"Mother, you wanted to see me?"
His words stopped short, for he saw despair in his mother's eyes deep enough to swallow all light.
Catelyn slowly raised her head. All that remained in her eyes was an ash-dead emptiness and bone-deep hatred.
She neither wept nor shouted, but her voice was colder than the winter wind. "Robb-Winterfell-has fallen."
Robb reeled as though struck. "What?! Who?! The Lannisters couldn't possibly-"
"It wasn't the Lannisters!"
Catelyn sprang to her feet and hurled the letter at Robb's feet, her voice rising sharply. "It was your dear brother, Theon Greyjoy! That kraken whelp we raised in the wolves' den for ten years! He led the Ironborn in a surprise attack on Winterfell!"
Her voice was anguished, tears streaming down her face. "Bran-my Bran-was killed by that beast too..."
Robb's heart plunged into icy depths.
Catelyn looked at Robb. "Robb, how many times did I warn you? Yet you insisted on letting Theon return. You knew perfectly well that greed and treachery were etched into the Iron Islanders' bones like sea salt. Why did you let him go?"
She advanced on him, her tears pouring forth. "And this damned war! If you hadn't rashly summoned your bannermen and marched south over the secret of Jon Snow's birth, none of this would have happened! Your father wouldn't have died, Winterfell wouldn't have been