DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Catelyn I

Riverrun appeared in the valley below her. Cat's heart was racing as she saw the soldiers approaching, at the front was the black armoured figure of her uncle, Brynden Tully, also known as the Blackfish. Under any other circumstance, Cat would have been happy to see her old home, and especially the Blackfish. However, her father was gravely ill, or possibly even dead. She could not be certain she had arrived in time before his demise.

Cat urged her horse towards down the hill towards him. Moments later, they both dismounted their mounts.

"Niece." Brynden smiled. "It is good to see you."

"Uncle." Cat tried her hardest to keep the tears from her eyes. "Please say I'm not too late."

"He is still with us." the Blackfish replied.

"Gods be good." Cat nodded. "I wish to see him."

Instead of riding to the castle, Catelyn walked the remaining distance with her uncle. The winch dropped the drawbridge and raised the portcullis to allow them to pass. Once inside, the drawbridge was securely back in place, the castle impenetrable once more.

The following five days were spent with her father in his chambers, next to his bed. Occasional visits from her uncle, and even fewer from Edmure would break up the monotony.

Few words left the lips of her father, and what he said was usually nonsensical, followed by grunts, gurgles and coughs. Upon first glance, Catelyn was astounded by how different the man laying on the bed was to how he looked the last time she saw him. He was pale and thin, face sunken, hair white as snow. As heartbreaking as it was, she wished the gods would take him sooner rather than later, so he would no longer suffer from whatever ailed him.

On the evening of the sixth day, after eating in her old chambers she occupied as a girl, Catelyn retreated to her father's chambers, sitting once more beside his bed, holding his thin, pale hand and rubbing the back of it with her thumb.

"It will not be much longer," Maester Vyman had warned her, that afternoon. "His last strength is going, though he tries to fight on."

"He was always a fighter," she said. "A sweet stubborn man."

"Yes," the maester said, "but a battle he cannot win. It is time to retire his sword and shield. Time to yield."

To yield, she thought, to make a peace. Not with the Lannisters. Not yet. The wars with them had yet to come, despite her having no discourse with the family. Family, duty, honour, she reminded herself. Could she ever bring herself to love her good-son, the one who would take them to a needless war. A war which could take away many of those she loved, including the possibility of Ned and her children.

"Tell me what I should do." Catelyn asked, knowing she spoke aloud to herself. Her father could not answer, for he was near gone. "I can forgive Ned for the love he held for his sister. But the boy. I know it is no fault of his. He cannot help who sired him. Jon, or Aegon, is wed to Sansa, in every way true. As a mother, I could wish for no more. A future king. He loves her dearly. I just fear the wars to come. If she can love him so, mayhap I can too."

Lord Hoster's hand tightened on hers. Cat turned to him, he tried to speak, but it came out throaty and more of a gurgle. She bent over him, to hear his words.

"Love them." He whispered. "House words."

Hoster Tully's breath laboured for a short while longer, each breath shallower than the last. The pulse in his neck slowing with each breath. It had been a minute or so when Cat realised both had stopped.

Let the kings of winter have their cold crypts. The Tullys drew strength from the river, and it was the river they returned to when their lives had run their course, Cat thought.