Chapter 19: Mother Mercy Take My Hand

Robb

Sansa was missing, had been taken by the Lannisters as they had all been walking back into the castle after seeing Lord Hoster's body out into the river. Jon had been stabbed by Ser Raynald Westerling, and had been abed for a week now, with a deep wound in his chest, though the bleeding had stopped. The castle had been in chaos, when Jon had been stabbed, Ser Raynald had tried to flee after doing the deed, but Ser Barristan and Ser Perwyn had chased after him and had caught him before he could mount his horse. Robb had had Smalljon carry Rickon back into the castle, and had with Edmure's help carried a severely bleeding Jon back into the castle, his mother and Arya had ran back into the castle together. By the time they were all in the courtyard, Robb had realised that Sansa was not amongst them, and had been about to go out and look for her when he heard her high pitched screaming and had watched helplessly through a window in the battlements as she was carried away on a horse ridden by the Mountain that rides Ser Gregor Clegane, to gods alone knew where.

Search parties had been sent out since then to look for her or for the company that Clegane had with him, but so far they had turned up nothing. Robb still found it hard to believe that Sansa had truly been taken, how had the Lannisters known to come to Riverrun on the exact day that Lord Hoster was being given to the river Robb knew not, unless- and this was certainly a possibility especially after learning about Bolton's betrayal- there was a spy in their camp. For one horrible moment Robb's thoughts turned to Jeyne and Theon, whom had come to Riverrun when Robb and Jon had been in the north, Jeyne had tried to speak with him twice since he had come back from the north, but Robb had been too busy to speak with her, he had abided by Theon's ribbing that Jeyne was in love with him, because whilst he had spent a great deal of time in Jeyne's company whilst in the Crag, it had merely been because she was always in the room when Robb came to look upon Theon, and they had done nothing more than exchange a few friendly words during that time. Besides even if she wished for something more, Robb could not give it to her for he was married now.

Jon was still abed, Maester Vyman had told him that with the blade had pierced through Jon's skin and had come close to puncturing an organ, and it was a miracle Jon hadn't bled to death, though it was apparent that he would not be marching off to find Sansa or to finish the Lannisters anytime soon. With Jon incapacitated Robb had had to take up the leadership role, and had sent several search parties out and had led some of them to find Sansa, all of which had turned up blank. He was half tempted to send his mother and two remaining siblings back to Winterfell simply for their protection, he had brought up the idea one night over dinner but his mother had outright refused to leave until they found Sansa again. Arya had of course refused to leave as well, but Robb knew that if the Lannisters were willing to take Sansa from right under their noses with a full court of people around her, then they would not hesitate to send more people to take either Arya, Rickon or their mother, and after having spent so long fighting them and having feared for his family's safety before now, Robb was entirely reluctant to see any of them come to harm again, and so had begun planning to have them either ride north with sufficient protection or ride with Patrek Mallister to Seagard and take a ship north, Lord Jason was still being held in the cells of Pyke and might be for some time.

Ser Raynald was being held in a tower cell, and so far had not given them any answers as to why he had done what he had done, when the Westerlings had bent the knee to Jon at the Crag and again at Casterly Rock, he found all very infuriating. Especially since Sansa's abduction, Jeyne had taken to almost daily visits to his room begging to speak to him and claiming that she did not know about what her brother had done, nor would she have known. Of course since it had been her brother who had done the deed, and since Sansa was his sister as well as his queen, Robb had had to give some sort of retribution to the Westerlings, and as they still held Lord Gawen Westerling as a prisoner in the dungeons, Robb had had to execute him the day before last, with Jeyne watching.

Another of the headaches that Robb had faced since Sansa had been abducted had been Ghost and Serrax's almost daily howling and roaring, both seemed to sense their master's loss and had become extremely aggressive to anyone who was not either Robb, Arya, Rickon or their mother from approaching Jon- well Ghost had since he had spent the whole time since Sansa's abduction beside Jon's bed, much the same as Summer had when Bran had been in a coma after his fall- Serrax on the other hand had had to be chained in the Whispering Wood though his roars could be heard for miles around and the plumes of flames he released could be seen from miles around. Robb feared that if they did not find Sansa soon, Serrax would more than likely break free from his chains and burn the whole kingdom to shreds looking for her, for Robb was convinced that each time he looked into Serrax or Ghost's eyes he was looking at Jon, he did not know what gave him that feeling only that it felt like Jon was watching everything that happened even though he was still unconscious on the bed. Robb supposed that whatever it was must be similar to the night dreams he had where he saw through Greywind's eyes as he hunted and sat guard next to Robb.

Robb was taken from his thoughts by the sound of a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to come in, he found himself looking at Theon, his uncle Edmure, Lords Umber, Karstark, Glover, Dustin, Blackwood, Bracken, Tarly, Yronwood and Appleton, who were followed in by Ser Barristan and Ser Leyton of Jon's Kingsguard – he had yet to name four more men to his seven. Robb nodded at each of them and bid them to sit down. Before he could truly begin to discuss why he had called him to the Lord's Solar he asked Ser Barristan "Who guards the king?"

Ser Barristan replied "Ser Perwyn our brother as does Ser Wendel, my Lord."

Robb nodded then continued. "I thank you all for coming. As you know Her Grace Queen Sansa has still not been found. I have sent and led many search parties out to find her, here in the Riverlands and also in the Westerlands. None of the search parties have come back either with a sighting of her or her captors."

Lord Tarly spoke, "It would not make sense for the Lannisters to take her grace back to the Westerlands or keep her in the Riverlands, my lord, for that is where they know we would look and if we got so much as a sighting of her or her captors, then they know his grace would command us attack them or unleash Serrax on them. No I tell you they are taking her grace to King's Landing to be punished by that bastard Joffrey Waters."

Edmure spoke then. "If what you say is true Lord Tarly then why have our scouts in the south not reported seeing any Lannister banners flying, or any sign of a group of men with the Mountain leading them?"

Robb nearly sighed with exasperation his uncle could be so clueless sometimes; thankfully it was Ser Barristan who deigned to reply to his uncle's question. "Because my lord, they know that if they were to fly the Lannister Banners in the Riverlands they would be stopped and killed and then her grace would be free to go. Also Lord Tywin is not a foolish man, he knows that the Mountain is a recognisable figure, so it is not hard to suspect that whilst the man might have taken her grace, he will not be leading the party to wherever they go, he would have beaten a path back to his holdfast, someone else will be leading the party. It would not surprise me if her grace is taken back to King's Landing to be left at the hands of the boy Joffrey and his mother. "

Edmure spoke up once more and asked, "But why King's Landing and why not somewhere like the Vale, we know Lord Baelish has married my sister, and if he were to ask Lysa to bring her grace up to the Eyrie, she would comply and then we would never be able to get her grace back without breaking the Eyrie, which no army has ever been able to do."

Robb sighed; this conversation was not getting them anywhere. He spoke loudly before anyone else could get another word in and an argument broke out. "They would take her to King's Landing uncle because she is pregnant. And because they know that we would not march on King's Landing whilst they still hold her, because then her life and her child's life would be in danger. It would also serve to keep his grace from the field of battle, for if he were to ride in on Serrax, her grace's life and that of their graces child would be forfeit. That is why they would take her to King's Landing."

There was silence for a moment as the Lords digested what Robb had said, and then Lord Dustin spoke. "What would you have us do my Lord?"

Robb sighed. "As much as it pains me to say this, we cannot spend any more time looking for her grace when we still have a war to fight. Lord Rowan has moved his men to the blue fork, no doubt planning to assault Riverrun. We have also received word from our source in King's Landing that Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell are preparing to march from the capital with the whole of their strength and aim to join with Lord Rowan's host. We must defeat Lord Rowan's host before they can do that." Robb paused for a moment then turned to look at Lord Tarly and Lord Yronwood, and said in a clear tone. "Lords Tarly and Yronwood, you both shall join your men together and give attack to Lord Rowan's host. I want there to be no survivors in his army, no man is to be left alive. Is that understood?" When they nodded their agreement, he went on "Good you shall march at first light tomorrow." He turned to look at his uncle Edmure then, "You shall lead your men down south toward Harrenhal uncle, you and Lord Royce are to keep Lord Tywin and Lord Mace preoccupied whilst Lords Tarly and Yronwood deal with Lord Rowan."

His uncle nodded, and then asked "And what are you going to do my lord?"

Robb looked at his uncle then and said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why uncle, Danaerys Targaryen has taken Maidenpool. I am going to go treat with her, and see if she shall join our cause."

Randyll

The light of the sun was just peaking through the clouds, and made the snow on the ground light up for a brief moment as Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill mounted his war horse. Preparing to march with his men and Lord Yronwood and the Dornishmen to the Blue Fork to deal with Lord Mathis Rowan. Lord Rowan, Randyll knew was a fierce and proud man, who was also a capable warrior. He had stuck with Mace Tyrell through Robert's Rebellion, and through this current war, though for what purpose Randyll knew not, for Mace had done the same to Mathis as he had done to Randyll. Whatever victories Mathis claimed in battle, Mace would claim as his own, indeed Randyll had heard it spoken that the defeat of Bolton and Tully forces at the Trident by Mathis and his men had been claimed as the tactical genius of Mace Tyrell. Randyll had never scoffed so hard when he had heard that, Mace a tactical genius? Only if there were White Walkers coming back south from the wall, would Mace ever be a tactical genius. No just like during Robert's Rebellion whilst Mathis had been the on doing the fighting at the Trident, Mace had no doubt been gorging himself on food hoping to tempt Lord Royce out of Harrenhal and to bend the knee. And just like at Storm's End Mace had failed to do that, and this time had been called back to King's Landing by Tywin Lannister.

The plan that Lord Stark had devised Randyll admitted was a wise one. He and Lord Yronwood were to follow the red fork until it came to the junction of meeting the blue and green fork for the Trident, and the Randyll was to march his men north west from the river and then east to attack Mathis's men from the left, whilst Lord Yronwood marched north and attacked them from the rear. If the plan went according to plan then Mathis and his men would be trapped with nowhere left to go, and as Lord Stark had said they were to all be put to the sword. It was snowing lightly when they came to the point where the Red, Blue and Green Fork met and became the Trident. Randyll waited for Lord Yronwood to spur his men into action and watched with his son Dickon by his side as the 10,000 Dornishmen marched north disappearing in the wind and snow. Randyll waited for a few moments before spurring his own horse on and leading his men north west on their path toward Mathis and his men.

As they curved in they could hear the shouting of men and the clanging of steel it became apparent that Lord Yronwood had engaged Mathis and his men. Randyll called a halt to the march, and waited for the signal that he and Lord Yronwood had agreed upon that would signal that Randyll and his men were to enter the fray. He waited one, two, three, four heartbeats before he heard it the mournful sound of the Dornish war horns being blown. Randyll drew his sword from its sheath and bellowed for his men to charge. He spurred his horse on and led the charged as they smashed into Mathis's left flank. It was complete chaos, men were hacking and slashing their foes, and soon Randyll found himself hacking and slashing his way through one man after the other, some of whom bore the Rose of House Tyrell on their armour, others who bore the Argent tree of House Rowan, and others who bore the Stag and Lion combatant of Joffrey Waters on their armour. He hacked and slashed his way through them, his sword coloured red the ground beneath him painted red.

He was determined to be the man who ended Mathis Rowan's life, the man had talked to Randyll about their loyalty to the Targaryens outstripping their loyalty to the Baratheons when news of King Jon's crowning reached them, and yet when Renly had died and Randyll had come to talk to Mathis about possibly joining with King Jon, Mathis had laughed in his face and told him not to be so foolish, a combined Lannister Tyrell army would be unstoppable, and besides Mace had apparently promised Mathis the hand of his heir Willas for one of Mathis daughters. Randyll was determined to avenge the slight done to him and his house today. He cut a bloody path through the men of House Rowan and their army, hacking and slashing like a man possessed, his sword completely covered in blood, Dickon his son and heir hacking and slashing beside him, when he finally found himself come face to face with Mathis Rowan himself. The man looked a sight, blood and mud stained his black armour and his beard making him seem more monster than human, Randyll supposed he looked no better. There was resignation in Mathis's eyes when he saw Randyll draw his blade, and as they spurred their horses to meet each other in battle, out the corner of his eye Randyll saw Dickon do the same with one of Mathis's boys also.

They met in a clanging of steel, their horses swayed, but they both stayed a horse despite the slipperiness of the ground due to the snow and blood that covered it. They swung at each other meeting the other's swords with shields and sword, their dance continued. One man's swing was met by the other man's block or swing. Neither man seemed able to gain any purchase on the other. That was until Mathis's horse slipped and Mathis was forced forward exposing his neck, Randyll swung his sword and managed to clip Mathis's neck before the man swung him back and hacked at Randyll. Soon their elegant dance turned into something primal, both men's horses fell on the snow, and caused both of them to dismount. As they circled each other, they both forgot the dance and instead began hacking and slashing at each other, cutting or denting the other, drawing blood. And then Randyll found a gap between Mathis's chest plate and lunged forward and plunged his sword into his former friend's chest, just as he felt the cold bite of steel being plunged into his own chest, he looked down and saw Mathis Rowan's sword buried in his own chest, blood pouring out of both of them.

Tyrion

Perhaps it is true then. Perhaps Lord Yronwood truly has rebelled against Prince Doran's rule. Perhaps Prince Doran shall remain loyal to us. Or this is just an elaborate ruse. Thought Tyrion as he watched their banners flying as the riders emerged from the green of the living wood in a long and dusty column. From here to the river, only bare black trees remained a legacy of his battle. Too many banners even for a kingdom supposedly divided, he thought sourly, as he watched the ashes kick up under the hooves of the approaching horses, as they had beneath the hooves of the Tyrell van as it smashed Stannis in the flank all those years ago. Stannis is dead though and a dragon holds Maidenpool.

He tried to think something to do to whilst away the time, "How many banners do you count?" he asked Bronn.

The sellsword knight shaded his eyes. "Eight... no, nine."

Tyrion turned in his saddle. "Pod come up here. Describe the arms you see, and tell me which houses they represent."

Podrick Payne edged his gelding closer. He was carrying the royal standard, Joffrey's great stag and lion, and struggling with its weight.

Bronn bore Tyrion's own banner, the lion of Lannister gold on crimson.

He's getting taller, Tyrion realized as Pod stood in his stirrups for a better look. He'll soon tower over me like all the rest. The lad had been making a diligent study of Dornish heraldry, at Tyrion's command, but as ever he was nervous. "I can't see. The wind is flapping them."

"Bronn, tell the boy what you see."

Bronn looked very much the knight today, in his new doublet and cloak, the flaming chain across his chest. "A red sun on orange," he called, "with a spear through its back."

"Martell," Podrick Payne said at once visibly relieved. "House Martell of Sunspear, my lord. The Prince of Dorne."

"My horse would have known that one," Tyrion said dryly. "Give him another, Bronn."

"There's a purple flag with yellow balls."

"Lemons?" Pod said hopefully. "A purple field strewn with lemons? Four House Dalt of Lemonwood."

"Might be. Next's a big black bird on yellow. Something pink or white in its claws, hard to say with the banner flapping."

"The vulture of Blackmont grasps a baby in its talons," said Pod. "House Blackmont of Blackmont, ser."

Bronn laughed. "Reading books again? Books will ruin your sword eye, boy. I see a skull too. A Black banner."

"The crowned skull of House Manwoody, bone and gold on black." Pod sounded more confident with every correct answer. "The Manwoodys of Kingsgrave."

"Three black spiders?"

"They're scorpions' ser. House Qorgyle of Sandstone, three scorpions black on red."

"Red and yellow, a jagged line between."

"The flames of Hellholt. House Uller."

Tyrion was impressed. The boy's not half stupid once he gets his tongue untied. "Go on Pod." He urged. "If you get them all, I'll make you a gift."

"A pie with red and black slices," said Bronn. "There's a gold hand in the middle."

"House Allyrion of Godsgrace."

"A red chicken eating a snake looks like."

"The Gargalens of Salt Shore. A cockatrice. Ser. Pardon. Not a chicken. Red with a black snake in its beak."

"Very good!" exclaimed Tyrion. "One more lad."

Bronn scanned the ranks of the approaching Dornishmen. "The last's a golden feather on green checks."

"A golden quill, Ser. Jordayne of the Tor."

Tyrion laughed. "Nine, and well done. I could not have named them all myself." That was a lie, but it would give the boy some pride, and that he badly needed.

Martell brings some formidable companions, it would seem. Not one of the houses Pod had named was small or insignificant. Nine of the greatest lords of Dorne were coming up the Kingsroad, them or their heirs, and somehow Tyrion did not think they had come all this way just to see the dancing bear. There was a message here. Yes Dorne's support for the Iron Throne is weakening by the day it would seem, they want justice for crimes committed, and they mean to see them enforced before lending aid in the field. Oh Joy, thought Tyrion.

"My lord," Pod said a little timidly, "there's no litter."

Tyrion turned his head sharply. The boy was right.

"Doran Martell always travels in a litter," the boy said. "A carved littler with silk hangings and suns on the drapes."

Tyrion heard the same talk. Prince Doran was past fifty, and gouty. He may have wanted to make faster time, he told himself. He may have feared his litter would make too tempting a target for brigands, or that it would prove too cumbersome in the high passes of the Boneway. Perhaps his gout has passed.

So why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

This waiting was intolerable. " Banners forward," he snapped. "We'll meet them." He kicked his horse. Bronn and Pod followed, one to either side. When the Dornishmen saw them coming, they spurred their own mounts, banners rippling as they rode. From their ornate saddles were slung the round metal shields they favoured, and many carried bundles of short throwing spears or they double curved Dornish bows they used so well from horseback.

There were three sorts of Dornishmen, the first King Daeron had observed. There were the salty Dornishmen who lived along the coasts, the sandy Dornishmen of the deserts and long river valleys, and the stony Dornishmen who made their fastnesses in the passes and heights of the Red Mountains. The salty Dornishmen had the most Rhoynish blood, the stony Dornishmen the least.

All three sorts seemed well represented in Doran's retinue. The salty Dornishmen were lithe and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair streaming in the wind. The sandy Dornishmen were even darker, their faces burned brown by the hot Dornish sun. They wound long bright scarves around their helms to ward of sunstroke. The stony Dornishmen were biggest and fairest, sons of Andals and the First Men, brown haired or blond, with faces that freckled or burned in the sun instead of browning.

The lords wore silk and satin robes with jewelled belts and flowing sleeves. Their armour was heavily enamelled and inlaid with burnished copper, shining silver, and soft red gold. They came astride red horses and golden ones and a few as pale as snow, all slim and swift, with long necks and narrow beautiful heads. The fabled sand steeds of Dorne were smaller than proper warhorses and could not bear such weight of armour, but it was said they could run for a day and night and another day, and never tire.

The Dornish leader forked a stallion black as sin with a mane and a tail the colour of fire. He sat his saddle as if he'd been born there, tall, slim and graceful. A cloak of pale red silk fluttered from his shoulders, and his shirt was armoured with overlapping rows of copper disks that glittered like a thousand bright new pennies as he rode. His high gilded helm displayed a copper sun on its brow, and the round shield slung behind him bore the sun and spear of House Martell on its polished metal surface.

A Martell sun, but then years too young, Tyrion thought as he reined up, too fit as well, and far too fierce. He knew what he must deal with by then. How many Dornishmen does it take to have fighting in King's Landing again? Just one. Yet he had no choice but to smile. "Well met, my lords. We had words of your approach, and his Grace King Joffrey bid me ride out to welcome you in his name. My Lord father the king's hand bids you welcome as well." He feigned an amiable confusion. "Which one of you is Prince Doran?"

"My brother's health requires he remain at Sunspear." The princeling removed his helm. Beneath, his face was lined and saturnine, with thin arched brows above large eyes as black and shiny as pools that receded from his brow in a widow's peak as sharply pointed as his nose. A salty Dornishmen for certain. "Prince Doran has sent me to join King Joffrey's council in his stead, as it please His Grace."

"His Grace will be most honoured to have the counsel of a warrior as renowned of Prince Oberyn of Dorne," said Tyrion thinking, This will mean blood in the gutters. "And your noble companions are most welcome as well."

"Permit me to acquaint you with them, my lord of Lannister. Ser Deizel Dalt, of Lemonwood. Lord Tremond Gargalen. Lord Harmen Uller and his brother Ser Ulwyck. Ser Ryon Allyrion and his natural son Ser Daemon Sand, the Bastard of Godsgrace. Lord Dagos Manwoody, his brother Ser Myles, his sons Mors and Dickon. Ser Arron Qorgyle. And never let it be thought that I would neglect the ladies. Myria Jordayne, heir to the Tor. Lady Larra Blackmont, her daughter Jynessa, her son Perros." He raised a slender hand toward a black haired woman to the rear beckoning her forward. "And this is Ellaria Sand, mine own paramour."

Tyrion swallowed a groan. His paramour, and bastard born, Cersei will pitch a holy fit if he wants her at the wedding. If she consigned the woman to some dark corner below the salt, his sister would risk the Red Viper's wrath. Seat her beside him at the high table, and every other lady on the dais was like to take offense. Did Prince Doran mean to provoke a quarrel?

Prince Oberyn wheeled his horse about to face his fellow Dornishmen. "Ellaria, lords and ladies, sers, see how well King Joffrey loves us. His Grace has been so kind as to send his own Uncle Imp to bring us to his court."

That caused a great deal of nervous laughter from the assembled Dornish nobility, but Tyrion was ready to counter the jest, as he introduced Prince Oberyn to the contingent that had ridden with him to greet them. Once the normal flattery had been observed the rode on toward the Red Keep, Prince Oberyn and his paramour the lady Ellaria riding beside Tyrion. They were silent for a few moments and before long Tyrion broke it simply out of frustration. " Prince Oberyn whilst I am glad of your presence here, I am sad to not see Lord Yronwood nor several other of your chief bannermen banners flying with you pray tell me where are they?"

Prince Oberyn snorted at that and replied. "Anders Yronwood is a fool, who thinks more with his cock then his brain. When he heard of the alliance my brother had struck with the Iron Throne the fool took it into his head to rebel against my brother's rule and brought several bannermen and their soldiers with him. The fools are likely dying somewhere in the Riverlands as we speak."

They were silent once more, but Tyrion could not help but see the way Prince Oberyn's mouth tightened after having spoken of the Yronwoods and wondered, Does he wish that he was there fighting alongside them instead of here, or does he wish to have killed Lord Anders long ago? It was a question he would need to find the answers for if he hoped to keep the peace in King's Landing for the duration of Lord Tywin's stay away from the capital.

Whilst the Riverlands bled once more, and King's Landing was alight with plots within plots. One Mockingbird laid the seeds of his decade long plan in the ground awaited to reap the reward. He had married the trout, the uglier one it was true, but she was the one who would give him the keys to the kingdom. Already he was taking steps to remove power from her control and put it into his. She was blinded by her love for him, and foolishly thought he felt the same. But that was far from the truth; in fact the day was getting closer when the trout and her brattish little child would no longer be needed.

It had been his whisperings that had planted the seed of the Lannister- Tyrell Alliance that had so thwarted Stannis Baratheon. It had been his whisperings that had planted the seed of doubt of Joffrey's stability and suitability for Margaery Tyrell; it was he who would be responsible for the fall of Cersei Lannister from power. All he needed was for the Targaryen boy to destroy Tywin Lannister and then he would see to it that the Tyrells saw fit to abandon the Lannisters and joined their full strength to the Targaryen boy in exchange for Margaery Tyrell as his queen. He would see the Young Wolf dead, and then he would swoop in and rescue the boy's mother and sister. The girl who looked like a much more beautiful version of her mother, the girls with the auburn hair who should have been his and Cat's he would get through her, the mother would be his as well. He would rule Winterfell, and the Targaryen boy would owe his throne to him, and would not seek to challenge him for the girl's hand.

For the boy was just like his uncle, a fool playing at King who knew how to win battles but did not, would never know how to play the game, and would die if he tried to best the mockingbird, for the mockingbird had been playing the game for as long as he had lived. Why it had been him who had told the boy's uncle, the one the song's called the Wild Wolf about his sister's "kidnapping" that had led to the wild wolf's eventual death. He would have both the girl and the mother soon enough. The girl was already on her way here. The foolish Lannisters thought to trust him, for they thought they had come up with the idea to take the girl from one of their own spies, but that spy had belonged to the mockingbird for as long as the trout had been in Winterfell, had reported her every move back to him. Had told him when the girl would be ripe for the taking. And he had acted on it, the Westerlings were an easy family to manipulate especially the girl with promises of her Tully haired love, it was all too easy, too easy. Soon he would have all that should have been his from the beginning.