Chapter 58: It's All the Crow's Fault

The charcoal in the brazier burned with unusual quietness, casting eerie shadows that danced along the stone walls of the chamber. The Duke of Winterfell's private solar stood secluded from the castle's bustle, warm and intimate despite the vastness of the ancient stronghold. Only four figures occupied the room: Lady Catelyn, her eldest son Robb, the aged master-at-arms Ser Rodrik Cassel, and Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

And, of course, the three diminutive sprites that had caused such a stir.

Catelyn sat alone beside the great canopied bed, her Tully eyes wide with astonishment as she beheld creatures she had dismissed as children's tales.

"Children of the Forest," Robb murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking normally might cause the mythical beings to vanish like morning mist.

Joffrey seized upon the young heir's recognition. "Robb, since you recognize the Children of the Forest, you must also be familiar with skinchangers and greenseers, are you not?"

Catelyn turned to study her son's face.

Robb nodded slowly, his auburn curls catching the firelight. "Maester Luwin educated us about such matters. They are said to possess the ability to control beasts and, in some cases, to perceive events regardless of distance or time."

Could such things truly exist beyond Old Nan's stories? Catelyn wondered, her skeptical nature warring with the evidence of her own eyes.

Joffrey released a carefully measured sigh. "Maester Luwin was a scholar worthy of great respect. It was only beyond the Wall that I discovered the tragic truth—he perished while attempting to protect Bran!"

Catelyn's heart seized at the mention of her broken boy. Panic flashed across her features. "Bran is but a child! Who would seek to harm him?"

"Greenseers!" Joffrey declared with practiced sincerity, his emerald eyes intense. "Perhaps you are unaware, Lady Stark, but your son Bran possesses the innate talent of a greenseer. This rare gift has drawn the attention of a powerful entity known as 'Bloodraven,' who lurks beyond the Wall."

At last, Catelyn heard a name that resonated with her knowledge of history. "Lord Bloodraven? Brynden Rivers?!" Her voice trembled with disbelief.

"The very same," Joffrey confirmed. "The sorcerer who was exiled to the Wall."

"In time, he became a greenseer in service to the Children of the Forest, yet even his considerable magic could not extend his mortal lifespan indefinitely. Therefore..."

Joffrey paused deliberately, assessing the impact of his words upon his audience.

"He turned his covetous gaze upon Bran's youthful body, invading the boy's dreams repeatedly in an effort to consume his very soul. Maester Luwin met his end precisely because he discovered evidence of this intrusion."

Words alone would not suffice. Proof was required.

"These Children of the Forest were pursued relentlessly by Bloodraven's wildling servants and skinchangers, all because they glimpsed his true intentions. My companions and I rescued them from certain death."

Leaf bowed her spotted head with graceful deference. "Indeed, Your Excellencies. The prince speaks truth."

Talking sprites that stood no taller than a child of eight, creatures one could reach out and touch! Even the battle-hardened Ser Rodrik found his certainties shaken, to say nothing of Catelyn's maternal fear or young Robb's bewilderment.

"Bloodraven was attempting to seize control of Bran on the very night Maester Luwin was slain," Joffrey continued. "I intervened within Bran's dream, helping him repel the assault. Bran himself can verify this account."

The wounded boy would serve as the perfect corroboration.

Catelyn shook her head in disbelief. "What mean you, 'defeated Bloodraven in a dream'?!"

Joffrey clasped his hands together piously. "The gods have blessed me with extraordinary powers. I saved your son and subsequently received divine guidance that led me to the Wall, where I discovered the boundless darkness gathering beyond."

With a flourish, he separated his palms to reveal a string of scorching flame between them, paper-thin and eerily beautiful, suspended in the air as though it were a physical thing.

The light and heat radiated palpably, the flame responding to subtle movements of his fingers with docile precision. No sleight of hand could accomplish such a feat.

"But this is not why I've come with such urgency." Joffrey swallowed the flame as though it were nothing more dangerous than a ribbon, drawing the stunned gazes of all present.

"Lady Catelyn, Robb—I must ask that you steel yourselves for what I am about to reveal."

The atmosphere within the chamber grew taut as a drawn bowstring.

Joffrey stared at mother and son without blinking, waiting until both nodded their solemn acknowledgment before continuing.

"The Children of the Forest have uncovered Bloodraven's true conspiracy. The man remains obsessively loyal to House Targaryen, harboring particular hatred for my father and Lord Eddard. He is poised to strike, and all those traveling in the southward convoy may perish at his command!"

Nearly the entire Stark family traveled with that retinue.

Catelyn surged to her feet with a strangled cry—"No!"—only for a violent wave of dizziness to overcome her. She collapsed weakly against her son's sturdy frame.

Robb's face drained of color. "Father and the others face imminent danger?!"

The ever-faithful Ser Rodrik grew agitated, his magnificent white whiskers quivering with emotion. "If this be true, I must depart at once to safeguard Lord Eddard!"

Joffrey nodded gravely. "Bloodraven possesses powers beyond our comprehension. I journeyed here specifically to entreat Winterfell's assistance. Why else would I tarry even a moment when time is so precious?"

"The threat could materialize at any hour. Each passing heartbeat brings greater peril."

"I can remain here but a single night before I must resume my journey southward."

He leaned forward, his voice urgent. "I swear upon the honor of Joffrey Baratheon that everything I have revealed is absolute truth. I implore you to reach a decision without delay. Any hesitation may prove fatal!"

Catelyn clutched Robb's arm with desperate intensity, silently beseeching her firstborn to take decisive action.

In that moment, she had transformed entirely from the dignified Lady of Winterfell into a terrified mother fearing for her family's safety. She seemed to forget that her son had not yet seen his fifteenth nameday.

Robb bit his lower lip unconsciously, turning his troubled gaze toward his half-brother, Jon Snow.

Sensing Robb's implicit trust, Jon recalled the more than ten years he had spent at Winterfell, from earliest childhood to the cusp of manhood.

A stern yet just father, a loyal brother in Robb, mischievous younger siblings, the contemptuous glances of Lady Catelyn, Theon's cruel japes, and the peculiar status that had defined his existence.

For a bastard, Jon Snow had fared remarkably well.

He had never coveted Winterfell or Robb's position; he had simply yearned to live honorably, maintain bonds with his siblings, and perhaps one day earn his father's pride.

He had thought the Night's Watch represented glory and noble sacrifice, the shield that guarded the realms of men. Yet Winterfell had never revealed the bitter truth of what that ancient order had become.

Was the Night's Watch truly as I witnessed?

Uncle Benjen surely knew its true nature, as Lord Eddard must have as well. Small wonder Lady Catelyn had never objected to the notion of Jon taking the black.

Yet, despite this realization, Jon wondered: Am I betraying them all?

Prince Joffrey's earlier persuasion seemed to echo in his mind:

"This is the will of the gods—I cannot refuse, nor can you. Lord Eddard and his family will remain unharmed. Is the guilt of a few well-intentioned falsehoods not outweighed by the preservation of countless lives? Consider what answer your conscience provides."

Jon vividly recalled the horrific scene beyond the Wall—hundreds of wildlings and their beasts obliterated in the span of a heartbeat. How many such assaults could Winterfell withstand?

The memory of King Robert's arrival at Winterfell flashed unbidden before his eyes. The wine-sodden, lustful monarch bore so little resemblance to his golden son that they might have been strangers rather than father and child.

A thousand thoughts raced through Jon's mind like autumn leaves caught in a gale, yet all this inner turmoil transpired in but a moment.

"Bloodraven is dangerous and cunning," Jon said at last, his voice steady despite the storm within. "He commands numerous Children of the Forest and wildling vassals. He can deploy beasts to launch attacks from vast distances. I fear Lord Stark and his companions would struggle to defend against such tactics."

Jon met Robb's eyes directly, willing him to believe.

"Even Lord Stannis Baratheon's death may be attributed to his machinations. King's Landing harbors his agents—no sanctuary can be found there either."

Jon clasped Robb in a fierce embrace.

"Robb," he said, silently adding, may the gods forgive me, "Father requires additional strength at his side. I beseech you as a brother—act without delay."

Robb remained rigid for several heartbeats, only his eyes betraying his inner conflict. Then he returned Jon's embrace with crushing force.

The course was set.

Joffrey produced a sealed parchment and presented it to Lady Catelyn. "I have drafted a message explaining the danger. Please dispatch ravens immediately to warn Lord Eddard and his party."

Catelyn accepted the parchment with unsteady hands. "The royal procession travels constantly. How might ravens locate them?"

Faced with his mother's distress, Robb intervened gently. "The King's company has reached the Riverlands by now. We should send word to Riverrun—Grandfather will know how best to proceed."

"Yes, of course." Catelyn's mind cleared somewhat. "I must alert Father and Edmure at once. Father will devise a solution—he always does."

She rushed toward the door, only belatedly recalling courtesy when her hand touched the latch. Hastily offering awkward farewells to Joffrey and the others, she hurried toward the rookery as though the Others themselves pursued her.

Robb turned to the Crown Prince with an apologetic expression. After a moment of visible internal struggle, he reached his decision.

"Forgive me, Your Highness. Father charged me to remain at Winterfell, and I cannot forsake that command. However, I shall send Theon Greyjoy with one hundred of our finest men to accompany you southward."

He glanced toward the weathered master-at-arms who had trained him since childhood.

Ser Rodrik Cassel spoke without hesitation, his fingers already brushing the hilt of his sword. "I humbly request permission to join this company, my lord."

...

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