Chapter 7 : Marriage Proposals

Catelyn Tully

Winterfell

She sat in her chair, knitting, while her daughter Sansa sat beside her. 'The castle had changed, and Ned had grown distant ever since he had chosen to support the bastard. The thought of Jon Snow still brought bitterness to her heart. Things had only worsened when Lady Mormont arrived to take over the household, a position that it should rightfully be hers. But now, these women from the North had taken over, filling her daughters' heads with tales of their savage traditions. Especially Sansa, who could be betrothed to the crown prince of the realm, and if she also became like Arya, it could all fall apart,' she thought.

'There was still a chance for Robb to be married to Princess Myrcella. King Robert had wanted to unite the families ever since the rebellion. It was no longer possible to do so as Lyanna Stark died Dorne, murdered by the Rhaegar Targaryen. Perhaps she should talk to her husband, although he hadn't been listening to her for some time now. All because of that, the bastard, but at least he was sent off to the backwater of the swamps. It brought her a sense of relief.' She thought as she looked at her knitting cloth with a trout on it.

"Sansa, what do you think of Lady Mormont?" She asked her daughter, hoping for a response aligned with her disapproval.

Sansa hesitated momentarily before answering, "Well, she's a different kind of Lady, but still a lady nonetheless. She has been teaching Arya and me about the history of the North, which I find quite interesting. She even encourages us to learn some combat. I'm not sure it's for me, but Arya seems to enjoy it. Although, I might try my hand at archery. It requires precision and patience, qualities that I believe are valuable to learn."

Her heart sank at her daughter's words. No, even my eldest daughter has fallen under the influence of these false gods and heathens. "Sansa, that's not ladylike. You shouldn't be learning archery. Can you imagine what the crown prince would think if he knew you were indulging in such activities?" she questioned, hoping to instill doubt in her daughter's mind.

"Oh, I think on it, Mother," Sansa answered, not sure if she had taken her words to heart.

"Well, I hope you think about what I have said. Are you excited about it? Lady Alys arrives in two weeks. I suppose she will be coming from a good Northern house. But I still believe your father could have arranged a marriage with a princess for your brother. I think you still have a chance to be with the prince. It's Robert's dream to marry a Stark with his blood," she said, offering a hopeful smile.

Sansa's expression shifted, and she replied, "Well, if the gods bless me with such an opportunity, I will gladly welcome it, Mother. But for Lady Allys or one of the Manderly ladies. I hope Robb finds a good wife for himself and finds a good connection. And having other ladies for noble houses will be enjoyable. As I only have Beth and Jeyne for true companions,"

Her mind raced, contemplating how to make her husband see reason. 'She would speak with him, and if he failed to listen, she considered writing to her dear friend Peter and perhaps even to Lysa to guide the king in the right direction.' She set aside her knitting and embroidery materials, determination etched on her face.

"Sansa, please continue. I need to have a word with your father to guide him in the right direction hopefully," she said firmly.

"Of course, Mother. I'll see you at supper," Sansa replied, her face filled with deep thought.

Not much later, she arrived at the inner courtyard. Her disapproval of the scene was palpable, but she kept her opinions to herself, knowing that her disdain for such activities would only fuel her growing animosity toward Lady Mormont. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed Maege Mormont standing at the edge of the training area, watching the girls with a proud and approving smile.

She approached Lady Mormont and her husband "Lady Mormont, it seems our daughters have taken quite a liking to these... unconventional pursuits." She said, her voice laced with forced courtesy

Maege turned to face her, her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. "Aye, Lady Stark. The North breeds strong women, and I must ensure that they are prepared for whatever challenges they may face." Lady Mormont said.

Her lips tightened, but she kept her tone measured. "There are other, more appropriate ways for young ladies to prepare themselves for their future roles."

Maege raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "And what would those be, Lady Stark? Embroidery? Singing lessons? The world beyond these walls is not always kind, and we have to equip our children with the necessary skills to survive. My people on bear have defended each other from the Ironborn raids for thousands of years." Her voice was full of pride.

Her nostrils flared, her composure wavering. "Well, my daughter isn't on an island. They are the heart of the North. There is no need for this, and there are ways to be strong and resilient without resorting to swordplay and brawling." She said sternly.

"Catelyn enough," her husband said, harsh and stern, and he continued talking. "Lady Mormont is teaching our children about their heritage and history. She's teaching them to be proud of themselves and defend themselves if needed. That is just as good as your Southern ways. That is why I also allowed you and your septa to teach them. Remember that," He ended.

"Very, well, I will hold dear, as you have decided. I wanted to talk to you about something else. Would you like to join me on your solar?" She asked. "Yes, I come. Continue like that, Arya. You will be your aunt reborn, and Nymeria will be as well." He answered a smile graze their daughter's lips. But the words he gave to Arya, her inners crawl.

"Thank you, Father," she shouted and encouraged Lyanna for another spar. Ned smiled at her and nodded toward her to follow him to his solar.

She entered Ned's solar, her mind consumed by her determination to secure a powerful marriage alliance for their children. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the forthcoming disagreement.

"Ned, we need to discuss Robb's possible betrothal," she stated firmly, her voice carrying an undercurrent of ambition. Ned looked up from his desk, his eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of caution. "What is it, Catelyn? What troubles you about Robb's betrothal?" he inquired, his tone guarded.

Her eyes fixed on Ned, her expression resolute. "I cannot agree to Robb marrying Alys Karstark or the Manderly girls. We should be looking for a more advantageous match that will bring prestige and power to House Stark," she asserted, her voice laced with ambition.

Ned's brow furrowed in concern, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. "Catelyn, our alliance with House Karstark or House Manderly will serve us well. A marriage with both would further strengthen that bond. Besides, nothing has been agreed upon, and if they are not compatible, I won't force the marriage," Ned argued, his voice tinged with a sense of loyalty.

She shook her head, her determination unwavering. "The Karstarks and the Manderlys may be loyal allies, but their influence is limited. We should seek marriage with the crown or a strong southern house, like the Tyrells, or even secure a match within the Riverlands. Our children deserve a marriage that will elevate their status and secure our position in the realm," she emphasized, her voice filled with ambition.

Ned's expression hardened, his gaze meeting hers with concern and frustration. "Catelyn, it is not solely about power and prestige. We must consider our children's happiness and compatibility in their future marriages. Moreover, the North is our home and that of our children. A strong and united north is just as important. As for the Tyrells, that won't be an option," Ned reminded her, his voice laced with a sense of duty.

Her eyes flashed with a hint of impatience. "Why wouldn't the Tyrells be an option? The Lord Paramount has a daughter, doesn't he?"

Ned paused for a moment before continuing. "Robert has sent a letter. He has given permission to rebuild Moat Cailin, and the castle will have funds of around 100,000 gold dragons. Additionally, he will be sending another 100,000 for the rest of the North, to pay for the wars the North fought in his name and to compensate for what we, as Starks, lost," he explained.

Her face lit up, happy to hear about the funds and the restoration of Moat Cailin. "That's wonderful news! The Moat would be a magnificent keep for Brandon or Rickon," she said happily.

"No, it isn't meant for Bran or Rickon. It is for Jon. As for the Tyrells, Robert has ordered a marriage between Margaery and Jon. This way, Robert can rid himself of the Tyrells and their wish to marry their daughter to the Crown Prince," Ned revealed.

This revelation took her aback. "No, this can't be. You see, now he has a marriage pact with a Lord Paramount daughter and the lordship Moat Cailin. He will try to usurp Robb; he has the Reach with him and the power to do so. He has to take the black now; he has conspired against our children to take their birthright," she exclaimed.

Ned's face turned red with anger. "Catelyn, I wrote to Robert about Moat Cailin and asked him to give Jon his cadet house at Moat Cailin. Jon had nothing to do with Robert's orders regarding the marriage. He didn't conspire against us, and if you say anything like that again or speak about it to anyone, I will send you back to Riverrun," he warned firmly.

He continued before she could say something else, "Also, you must stop thinking in your southern way. It makes you blind to what truly matters – our children's well-being. Jon would never harm them; the boy loves his siblings and the North. We are a pack; we don't fight against each other. So take these words to heart. This is strike two. There won't be a third," Ned urged, his voice filled with caution and anger.

She felt a surge of frustration and hatred toward Jon. Ned was blind toward the bastard. 'No, he has the Moat and the alliance with the Tyrells. I have to make sure that won't happen,' she thought.

"This can't be, Ned. Giving the boy the Moat is a mistake. Why not give it to Brandon or Rickon?" she asked, hurt and angered.

"Catelyn, enough. Brandon and Rickon are too young to take up that position. Jon, with his wardship at Greywater Watch, can also learn. He will be there for two years, if not more, and then take up the lordship. So, no more about this, Catelyn. Just know that Jon will be a great asset to Robb and maybe the best bannerman he will ever have. If not that, then it will also be a great boon for the North," Ned said firmly, shutting down any further arguments.

"Ned, please reconsider. I will say nothing else but rethink this." She said, left the solar, and started thinking about what she could do against the bastard.

Olenna Tyrell

High Graden

'Oh, they were in the shit. They had received the royal decree. A royal command for a marriage pact between Margaery Tyrell and Jon Snow. A bastard was to marry her perfect rose of High Graden. Damn, the stag for his grudge against her house. He married her and rose to the crown prince if he was smart. But no, he has gotten into his head to punish house Tyrell for the acts in the rebellion. Besieging his home and handing him his only defeat, although that was really Randly Tarly's doing. But the idiot of a son of hers was more than willing to take the credit.' She thought bitterly.

"The king can't command me to marry my daughter to a bastard." Her son announced as he had reread the message after he had given it to him, making sure he had read it correctly.

"Well, if you hadn't pestered the King with your constant messaging to marry Margaery to the crown prince. Knowing Robert, we wouldn't even have been on his radar." She huffed in annoyance. 'She truly wanted it too, her little rose as the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but it had to be done more subtlety, and now it was too late. All in truth, it would never have happened. The King wants the Stark girl like always since Lyanna Stark's death.' She thought.

"Well, the King commands it. We can't do much more about it. You made our beds with your foolish siege at Storm's End. But we can, perhaps, Robert at least state that the boy would be given the Moat Callin, which would be considerably expanded. A canal for the Narrow Sea, a harbor town with a navy of fifty warships, and the rebuilding of Moat Callin itself." She ended.

"But mother sending my little rose to the cold North, perhaps if it were Robb Stark, it would be the heir to North. But a bastard, with who know mother could be." Her son said with a huff. 'Damn, you fool, the North would never marry a Southern two times in a row. The last Southern marriage is still considered a disaster as it dragged the North into two wars, killing three members of House Stark.' She thought as her fool of a son spoke.

"No, that would never happen. The North wouldn't accept another Southern marriage. But the bastard seemed to be no problem. That might make the Northerners happy, as he would show the North as strong. That house of the South is marrying a bastard of the North." She said.

"But, I don't like the thought of my daughter down in the North. But then again, we don't know much, if anything, about the boy. Perhaps he is good. The North and Starks have never really been in the spotlight. Except for the War of the Usurper and Cergan Stark, who fought for Rhaenyra during the dance of the dragons." Her good daughter said.

"But, still, this is an insult to our house." Her son huffed again, 'and he was correct in that it was an insult and it was meant to be seen as one. But she would make well damn sure to make the best out of the situation they were in now.' She thought resolutely.

"That may be, but perhaps if we sent someone down, perhaps Garlan, to take a stoke of the Starks and the boy." She said, hoping to soothe her son. But in truth, there weren't any other options. A royal command was to follow. It wasn't as if Robert ordered them to execute someone like Aerys with Robert and Eddard Stark when he demanded Jon Arryn to hand them over. For now, they would flush these wolves out, pull their tail, and see what would happen.

"Goodmother, I think you are right. But we can't send Garlan over as the boy isn't at Winterfell. The letter states he was at Greywater Watch. So perhaps we should wait until he goes there, or perhaps coordinate with them so he can meet them all. Maybe have Margaery write boy, so they could at least get to know him better." Her gooddaughter mused. She was right. The letter had stated that the boy was at Greywater Watch.

"Very well, I suppose we sent one to Greywater Watch and Winterfell. Informing them of our stands. Perhaps start talks to increase trade between the kingdoms." She said, and her son and goodaughter both nodded.

"Very I will write to Lord Stark and mother if you would be so kind as to deliver the news to Margaery for me." Oh, that fool.

"Of course, son, I shall." She said sweetly.

She waited in her solar for her granddaughter. Pounder, 'what if Rhaegar's son or himself had lived? Then perhaps she could hope for a royal marriage or place of prestige for her family. But the gods had other plans for house Tyrell. They would have to wait again. Her golden rose married the unknown bastard of the North.'

"Grandmother, you wanted to speak to me," Margaery said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Yes, dear, come sit." She did just Maegaery, which took place opposite her.

"We have received a royal command, my dear." Margaery's brightened, perhaps thinking she would be betrothed to the prince. Even at twelve years old, she was a smart one. She was the one she saw herself the most in.

"Yes, grandmother?" Margaery replied, her voice tinged with excitement. "Tell me, what does the royal command say? Is it about the prince?"

She took a moment to study her granddaughter's eager expression. She knew she was about to deliver news that might not be what Margaery had hoped for, but it was essential to handle this delicately.

"It is a royal command, indeed," She began, choosing her words carefully. "But it is not about the crown prince, I'm afraid. The King wishes for you to be betrothed, but not to him."

Margaery's enthusiasm dimmed slightly, but she tried to hide her disappointment. "Oh, well, to whom then, grandmother?"

"To Jon Snow, the natural-born son Warden of the North," she replied calmly.

"Jon Snow?" Margaery echoed, trying to place the name. "Lord Eddard Starks, bastard?"

"Yes, my dear, that's him," I confirmed with a heavy sigh. "It seems fate has dealt us this hand."

Margaery's brow furrowed, and she looked at me, searching for answers. "But... grandmother, what does this mean for House Tyrell? Is this not seen as an insult? He's just a bastard, and the North is so far away."

She could feel her uncertainty and worry and wanted to ease her concerns. "True, he may be a bastard, but he is still half a Stark and will be given a cadet house to the Starks and will be one of the respected houses in the North after Moat Callin is restored, that is," I explained. "This match could open new opportunities for trade and alliances between our regions."

Margaery considered my words, trying to find a glimmer of hope in the situation. "And Moat Cailin?" she asked. "The expansion, the harbor town, and the navy - it could be beneficial for our house, couldn't it?"

She nodded, recognizing Margaery's astute observation. "Yes, my dear, it could be. Moat Cailin is a crucial stronghold, and its development could strengthen our position in the Reach. You have a keen mind, Margaery, and I trust you to be a capable Lady of Moat Cailin."

She tried to muster a smile, taking in my words. "But, grandmother, I don't know anything about Jon Snow. What if he's not kind or good?"

She placed a reassuring hand on hers. "That's a valid concern, my dear. That is why we should send someone to Winterfell to meet Jon Snow and the Starks and get to know him better. We can also have you correspond with him to form a connection before the marriage."

As she saw a glimmer of hope return to Margaery eyes, although the optimism was contagious. "And who knows, Margaery," I added, "this match might bring about unforeseen opportunities and blessings for our house. You have the spirit and intelligence to make the best of it, just as you always have."

"But grandmother, how did everything come to pass?" Margaery added, "Your father's eagerness to secure a prestigious match may have inadvertently attracted the King's attention. And Robert may see this as an opportunity to remind us of our place." She ended with a sigh.

"Well, it seemed we tried to grow too soon, but I will do my duty to my house. Make the best of this situation and become a dutiful lady of Moat Callin." Margaery ended, and she stood up and hugged her.

"I'm proud of you, my dear. I know I always said you would be queen. Gods and the King have other plans for you." She said and smiled at Margaery.

Robb Stark

Winterfell

As the announcement of Alys Karstark's imminent arrival, 'Oh, he wanted his brother there at that moment, but he was gone, and all had changed. When Jon turned twelve namedays, he had shed his timidity like a cloak. No longer bound by fear, he had stood up against his mother, defying her actions with a newfound resilience. He could still recall the mixture of horror at his wife's deed and admiration for Jon, etched upon their father's face, mirrored by Bran and Arya. Even Sansa, who had inherited her mother's demeanor against Jon, stood aghast,' He thought as he closed his eyes and his heart pounded in his chest.

Their mother, unyielding in her stance, remained steadfast in her disapproval of his betrothal to Alys Karstark or two Wylla and Wynafryd. Robb found himself growing increasingly vexed by her dismissive attitude. Neither he nor his mother knew the girls, yet she seemed determined to write them off. Their mother's sights appeared set on a different prize, Princess Myrcella. But he had refused to be swayed so easily. He entertained the notion that the ladies might be a worthy match, a companion, and future Lady of Winterfell.

He was dragged out of his thoughts as a party of the Karstarks arrived, a party of thirty men on horse and a carriage, where the Lady Allys would reside. Lord Rickard Karstark was a large man with a large grey beard, long hair that went to his shoulder, and grey eyes, and he was a horse, a large black destrier.

"My liege, my Lady," Lord Karstark said as he dismounted and bowed to his father and mother. "Lord Karstark, welcome to Winterfell." His father said dutifully. "It has been a while. Thank you for the invitation and request for my daughter's presents, my Lord." Lord Karstark said as he eyed him up. 'Here we go, right to the point.' He thought, trying to stand tall.

"I welcome you as well to Winterfell, my Lord, and the rest of your family," He greeted Lord Karstark with a respectful nod. "Thank you, my Lord Robb," Lord Karstark replied in kind.

With that, the Lord turned around and went to the carriage, opening the door for two figures inside. One was an older woman, surely Lady Karstark, while the other, tall and graceful, had to be Lady Alys. She possessed a certain elegance, her light brown hair flowing, her skin fair, and her blue-grey eyes glistening like a sunlit pool. 'She was the epitome of a true northern beauty.' He thought enthralled.

"My lord, my wife, Lady Ryna Karstark, and my daughter, Alys Karstark," Lord Karstark introduced them, drawing his attention back from his dazing at Lady Alys. "Welcome to Winterfell, my ladies," his father greeted them warmly. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and stepped forward.

"Lady Alys, welcome to Winterfell. If your father allows it, may I have the honor of escorting you to the guesthouse and your chambers?" he asked, his voice steady despite the nerves that danced within him. Lord Karstark's face remained stern, his gaze assessing, but he eventually nodded in approval. A glimmer of pride danced in his father's eye, a silent encouragement.

"Very well, my Lord Robb," Lord Karstark acquiesced, his tone serious. With that permission granted, he extended his arm, offering it to Lady Alys. She placed her delicate hand on his forearm, and together, they began their journey through the halls of Winterfell.

He couldn't help but steal glances at Lady Alys as they walked side by side. Her presence was captivating, her steps graceful and measured. The flickering torchlight illuminated her features, accentuating the subtle curve of her chin and the radiance of her blue-grey eyes. The silence between them was comfortable. 'I suppose that is a good sign.' He thought to himself as he walked on.

Soon enough, they arrived at the guesthouse, where Lady Alys would be lodged during her stay. He courteously opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. As she stepped across the threshold, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility wash over him.

"May your stay in Winterfell be comfortable and pleasant, Lady Alys," he offered, his voice laced with genuine warmth. "If there is anything you require or any questions you may have, do not hesitate to reach out to me. It would be my honor to assist you in any way I can. If I have a question for you, my Lady, would you do me the honor of sitting beside me at the feast." He ended as his heart pounded in his chest.

Lady Alys turned to face him, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I would like that, Lord Robb. Thank you; your kindness is most appreciated," she replied, her voice gentle and melodic. Their eyes met for a lingering moment, and Robb felt a flicker of anticipation.

"Thank you, my Lady. Leave you to get settled." He said, and with a polite bow, he took his leave. As he walked away, his mind buzzed about the future and the uncertainties ahead. Yet, amidst it all, a spark of hope ignited within him, kindled by the presence of the enigmatic Lady Alys Karstark.

The evening descended upon Winterfell, casting a golden hue across the Great Hall as torches flickered and music filled the air. Adorned in his finest attire, he took his place at the high table. To his right sat Lady Alys Karstark, radiant in a gown of deep blue, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

As the feast commenced, he engaged in light conversation with Alys, their voices mingling amidst the lively atmosphere. They spoke of their respective homes, shared tales of childhood memories, and laughed at jests exchanged across the hall. He found himself captivated by Alys' charm and intelligence, her words flowing effortlessly as if they had known each other for years.

Their seats brought them close, allowing for stolen glances and subtle touches of their hands. He couldn't help but notice how Alys' laughter danced in the candlelight, how her eyes brightened with each passing moment. It stirred a warmth within him, a sense of connection he longed for.

He sighed softly, his gaze drifting towards the bustling crowd. "I miss my brother, Jon," he confessed, a trace of wistfulness tugging at his words. "We were raised together. He was there from the beginning. He was a constant for me. I hope you get to meet him, my Lady." He ended. 'I hope Jon will like Alys, as I wish I like Margery Tyrell. It would be best if we all got along a strong pack come winter.' He thought to himself as he looked at Alys.

Alys nodded, her expression sympathetic. "I understand, my Lord. Family holds a special place in our hearts. I, too, find myself missing my older brothers, Harrion, Eddard, and Torrhen. They have always been my protectors, guiding me through life's trials." She said.

"Well then, I will do well, not to offend you, my lady, or I will get a scolding and beating from my future bannerman." He said with a chuckle.

"I hope you will enjoy your stay at Winterfell and perhaps Lady Alys of Winterfell someday. It will hold a special place in your heart, too." He said as he gazed in her blue-grey eyes. 'She would be a good Lady of Winterfell.' He mused.

Their conversation trailed off, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. The music swelled, and a familiar song, The Bear and the Maiden Fair was sung, and the revelry intensified, creating an enchanting backdrop to their burgeoning connection. He couldn't resist the urge any longer. He extended his hand towards Alys. "My Lady, would you honor me with a dance?" He asked.

Alys' eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and delight painted across her features. She hesitated momentarily before placing her dainty hand in his, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I would be delighted, my Lord Robb," she replied, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

He led Alys to the center of the hall, surrounded by couples twirling and spinning to the rhythm of the music. As their bodies swayed in harmony, he found himself losing track of time, caught in a world where worries and obligations melted away in the eyes of Alys Karstark.

He guided Alys back to their seats, a sense of contentment settling upon him. They exchanged smiles, their eyes filled with a shared understanding. It was the beginning of something he hoped.

As the feast continued, he found himself lost in thought, envisioning a future where Alys was his wife. 'She had most certainly impressed him. He smiled at the idea. In the morning, he would write to Jon about Alys, and he wanted to tell his brother all about her.'

"My lord, would you be so kind as to escort me to my chambers," Alys asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Of course, my lady, I would be honored." He said with a smile. They spoke a little more about her home before they arrived at her chambers. "Here you are, my Lady, and I hope to hear more about Karhold in the future. Also, sleep well, and don't forget to ask me if you need anything." He ended and kissed her hand.

"Thank you, my Lord," she kissed his cheek, his cheeks flushed red, and she giggled and walked through the door and closed it. Leaving him in a happy daze.

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