ARC III: THE AWAKENING OF THE DRAGONS AND THE WAR OF THE EMPIRE
Chapter 38: The Trap of Paranoia
POV: Queen Catelyn Tully (301 AC)
The thick smell of smoke, myrrh, and sweet incense that filled the air of the Great Sept of Baelor was the only thing capable of calming the erratic beating of my heart.
Kneeling on the cold stone before the immense statue of the Mother, with my hands joined in a fervent prayer, I begged the Seven Who Are One for clarity, strength, and, above all, forgiveness. I desperately sought forgiveness for the terrible, unspeakable sin I had committed in the past.
My mind, no matter how hard I tried to fight against the memories, insisted on dragging me back to the dark chambers of Winterfell, during the time the Southern court traveled to the North to celebrate the victory against the Greyjoys. I remembered Arawyn's relentless touch, the way his titanic, wild body had dominated me in such a sinful, so devastatingly pleasurable and warm manner. Just remembering the intensity of those moments made me feel my womb warm with a shameful, forbidden heat.
I shook my head violently, opening my eyes and locking them onto the carved face of the Mother to banish those profane thoughts.
"Cast these demons away from me..." I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.
It had not been my fault. No decent woman of the Riverlands, raised under the sacred light of the Faith, would surrender herself so wholesomely to a pagan barbarian of the North of her own free will. That cursed Stark... he had surely used some vile, dark sorcery to poison my mind and corrupt my body in Winterfell. Yes, it was the only logical explanation. The Northmen were monsters who controlled supernatural and demonic forces; he had planted that sinful desire in my womb through black magic.
But I needed to focus on the present. The world around me was crumbling far too quickly.
Everything had begun to go wrong with Robert's idiotic paranoia. He never accepted the fact that Jon Arryn had died simply from old age and a common fever. Robert insisted, in his drink-addled mind, that his former mentor had been poisoned by hidden enemies in the court. A true fool. When I related my husband's absurd suspicions to my dear sister Lysa and to my great and loyal friend, Petyr Baelish, the two of them even looked at each other in silence, unable to believe how a king could be so incredibly naive and paranoid.
And shortly after that, Robert still made a point of finding his own death in a stupid way, being gored by a wild boar during a hunt. Some "Demon of the Trident" he was. Robert had died like the drunken pig he always was.
But the real blow to my chest came from within my own family. Now, even my dear baby, Gendry, was turning against me. He had the audacity to say, in front of Ned Stark, that the wine his father had drunk during the hunt had a "strange" taste, and that the bottle had come directly from my family's private stocks.
My own son suspected me. Gendry thought I was responsible for his father's death. As much as I hated Robert Baratheon with all my strength, I would never be capable of committing an act as vile as regicide.
Someone had planted that bottle in my stock, or Robert himself had imagined things in his drunkenness, but the suspicion in my son's blue eyes was a wound I could not close.
I heard the soft sound of firm footsteps echoing through the naves of the sept. Looking up, I saw the imposing figure of the High Septon approaching. He wore robes of white silk and gold threads so absurdly luxurious and ornate that even I, the Queen of the South, did not possess similar garments in my wardrobe. But he was the herald of the true gods in the mortal world, a mystical authority positioned above kings and empires; therefore, there was nothing wrong with his opulence.
I knelt before him, bowing my head in a sign of deep reverence.
"My daughter..." the High Septon's voice sounded soft, yet laden with a solemn gravity. "I can see that worry and darkness have taken hold of your devout mind. Tell me what afflicts you."
Shedding my tears, I told him about Robert's death, about Gendry's suspicions, and about the immense shadow that the North cast over us.
"And your late husband, may the Seven keep him in a good place, left the regency of the realm in the hands of the Stark?" he questioned, arching a grey eyebrow.
"Yes..." I replied, my voice trembling. "And worst of all, my own son approved of this decision. Gendry turned against his own mother to support that Northern wolf."
The High Septon remained silent for a few moments, caressing his long white beard.
"The king was killed by a wild animal in the forest, correct, my daughter?"
"Yes, a monstrous boar."
"Animals..." he repeated the word with a drawn-out, significant tone of voice. "Animals which the vile and heretical sorcery of the North is fully capable of controlling through their profane skinchanging arts. We both know that those Northmen are capable of entering the minds of beasts and men. Has not the very little she-wolf they brought with them, the Stark's youngest daughter, already made similar demonstrations in the training yards? She used her tricks to leave our knights confused and disoriented... a confusion very similar, I presume, to the one that befel King Robert before he fell from his mount."
I felt a cold shiver run up my spine. My mind cleared instantly, connecting the dots of that terrible conspiracy.
"Does Your Holiness think... think they used black magic to kill my husband?"
"I think nothing, my dear daughter," he replied, offering me a compassionate smile. "I am but a humble apostle of the gods. But today we live in a world deeply corrupted by the forces of evil marching from beyond the Neck. And a devout mother must take extreme care to protect the soul and the crown of her son against the claws of sorcerer wolves."
Upon leaving the sacred atmosphere of the Great Sept of Baelor, I came across the familiar figure of Petyr Baelish waiting for me near the exit. I found it extremely strange; he had not been there when I arrived, which meant he had followed me or knew exactly where I would be.
We entered the privacy of my royal carriage together, and the vehicle began to move, rattling through the noisy streets of King's Landing toward the Red Keep.
"What brings you to Baelor's sept, my great friend?" I asked, adjusting my silk cloak.
"Staying in the fortress alongside the Starks' retinue is not a good idea at this time, Catelyn," Petyr replied, his voice low and cautious. "The atmosphere in that castle is unbearable. I feel as if the Northmen walk through the corridors as if they were the true masters of King's Landing."
His words found an immediate echo in my own frustration.
"It is the absolute truth! Those two bitches Ned Stark brought with him, Cersei Lannister and Ashara Dayne, parade around the castle as if they were sovereign queens, and the foolish nobles of the South treat them with reverence just to try and gain some favor or runic technology from that cursed empire of the North."
"Yes, Catelyn... but unfortunately we cannot do anything directly while young Gendry is under their influence," Petyr commented, looking out the carriage window with an expression of feigned concern.
"Even my own son is on their side..." I lamented, clenching my fists against my dress.
"Gendry is still very young and extremely impressionable, my queen," Petyr continued, turning his shrewd eyes back to mine. "You know very well that he spent his entire childhood desperately seeking a single crumb of attention and approval from Robert. And now that his late father's last order was for the Stark to assume the regency, the boy will do everything in his power to ensure that desire is fulfilled. He sees in Ned Stark the figure of an honorable tutor... but the reality behind that is much darker."
"What do you mean by that, Petyr?" I asked, feeling anxiety take hold of me. "Is there something else happening?"
Petyr feigned hesitation, looking around the carriage as if he feared that the wooden walls themselves were spying on us.
"Let us reach the castle first, Catelyn. One never knows who or what might be listening to our conversations under the influence of those magical marks the Northmen carry."
As soon as we entered my private chambers in the Red Keep, we were greeted by my dear sister, Lysa Arryn. She seemed extremely agitated, biting her nails and pacing back and forth with eyes wide with dread.
Petyr closed the heavy wooden door and locked it before approaching the two of us.
"I have noticed something extremely alarming regarding the young prince, my queen," Petyr began, keeping his voice in a tense whisper. "Before the arrival of the Northern delegation, Gendry actively repudiated and avoided the presence of the Stark girl. He showed not the slightest interest in Arya. But now? Look at how he walks up and down with her through the gardens, looking at her as if he had fallen desperately in love overnight."
I felt my chest tighten with protective fury.
"This makes no sense..." I whispered, my breathing quickening. "My baby would never want an unmannerly savage like that girl of his own free will. He was raised to be a refined king!"
"Exactly, Catelyn," Lysa interceded, coming closer and holding my hands with her cold, trembling fingers. "They are using sorcery against your son! It is the only explanation! That cursed Tywin Lannister has always coveted the crown of King's Landing for his lineage, and now that he has allied himself with the Starks through the marriage of his daughter Cersei, he is using the black magic of the North to dominate Gendry's mind and steal the throne from his hands! They want to destroy us, Catelyn! They want to rob us of everything!"
The paranoia, fueled by my sister's whispers and Petyr's insinuations, exploded in my mind like a sandstorm. It made perfect sense. The Starks and the Lannisters had united to usurp Robert's legacy. The mind control, the runic marks, Jon Arryn's death, the poisoned wine bottle in my stock... everything was a web perfectly designed to blame me and distance me from my son while they took control of the South.
"We cannot allow them to rob us of everything, Petyr!" I exclaimed, grabbing his collar in desperation. "What shall we do?! Their magic is too strong!"
"Do not worry, Catelyn. The true gods are on our side in this holy battle," Petyr replied with a comforting, calm smile. "The High Septon came to me this morning and guaranteed me the unrestricted support of the Warriors of the Faith who are infiltrated in the city. In addition, we have the loyalty of the entire City Watch and the Tully guards we brought from the Riverlands."
"But... what of their magic? The armor enchanted with runes that the soldiers of the North carry?" I asked, fearing the destructive power I had seen in Winterfell.
"They may be stronger and more resilient than two or three ordinary men due to their runic tricks, my queen... but they are still made of flesh and bone. They can still die if they are cut," Petyr explained with calculating coldness. "It may seem like we face a great sacrifice, but we can easily subjugate them through the use of overwhelming numbers. If we surround the castle and act quickly, they won't have time to react. Besides, their cursed Emperor is thousands of leagues away in Winterfell. We only have old Ned Stark, his two wives, and his youngest daughter here. If we secure the women as hostages under our blades, the Northmen will not dare to lift a single finger against us."
I looked at my sister Lysa, who nodded frantically, her eyes filled with tears, and then at Petyr, whose gaze conveyed absolute security. Even fearing the terrible strength of the North, I knew that this was the only correct path to take to save my son and ensure the continuity of the Baratheon dynasty. I would act in the name of the Seven.
The next day, the summer sun shone brightly over King's Landing, but the air in the gardens of the Red Keep felt strangely heavy.
I had sent a formal invitation for Ned Stark's wives and his youngest daughter to join me for afternoon tea under the stone pavilion. I needed to maintain appearances until all my pieces were properly positioned in the darkness.
Cersei Lannister and Ashara Dayne approached the pavilion with that arrogant elegance that always made me nauseous. Arya Stark walked right behind them, wearing leather trousers and holding the hilt of her slender sword with a posture that in no way recalled the delicacy of a Southern lady.
"Look, dear Ashara..." Cersei commented with a loud tone of voice laden with mockery, adjusting the sleeves of her crimson red dress. "It seems the Queen of the South has finally deigned to invite us for tea after we spent an entire year living under the same roof. I suppose here in the South things move at a considerably slower pace than in the North."
"Yes, Cersei... an entire year just to manage to brew a pot of tea," Ashara replied with that irritating Dornish grace, letting out a light laugh as she settled into one of the cast-iron chairs. "But what can we do? We must be patient with the speed of the Southerners."
I swallowed my pride and maintained a mask of perfect courtesy, forcing a sympathetic smile as I poured the cups.
"I am glad you accepted my invitation, my ladies," I replied softly, trying not to raise any suspicion.
I looked askance at the Stark girl, who remained standing near the stone balustrade, observing the gardens with those grey, analytical eyes she had inherited from Ned. She looked nothing like her mother or the bitches raising her; Arya was the physical embodiment of the wolves of the North, which only increased my inner anger.
I noticed a crucial detail that brought me an immense wave of relief and silent satisfaction. The immense direwolf that always accompanied her, Nymeria, was nowhere in the garden.
"Where is your direwolf today, dear?" I asked the girl, keeping my voice maternal.
"Being locked up for so long inside the stone walls of this filthy city ended up irritating her temperament," Arya replied dryly, without even looking in my direction. "Therefore, I sent her to hunt freely in the royal forest near the city this morning."
I smiled internally. That was the best news I could have received. Without that monstrous beast nearby to tear my men apart, our task would be infinitely simpler and cleaner.
In the next second, the heavy sound of marching steps and the clear clank of steel armor echoed through the bushes of the garden.
Dozens of City Watch guards and Warriors of the Faith with the symbol of the seven-pointed star painted on their chests emerged from all directions, completely surrounding the pavilion. Archers positioned themselves on the upper balconies and walls, aiming their arrows directly at us.
Cersei Lannister remained seated, raising her teacup with a calm that bordered on insanity. She looked at the troops around her and then fixed her green eyes on me.
"And what exactly would all this be, Queen Catelyn? A belated welcoming committee?" she ironized, without a single fraction of fear crossing her face.
"Your evil plan has come to an end," I declared, rising from my chair, my voice trembling with indignation. "I will not allow you to continue controlling my baby's mind with your Northern sorceries to usurp the crown!"
Arya Stark acted in the blink of an eye, drawing her slender sword with a sharp metallic ring. The swiftness of the movement and the determination in her grey eyes were enough to make the nearest City Watch guards take a step back out of sheer physical fear of the girl.
"What do you think you are doing, Catelyn?" Ashara Dayne questioned, maintaining her erect posture, though her violet eyes were serious. "This insane action will only bring destruction and war to the lands of the South. You have just sealed the fate of your own people."
Before any order to attack could be issued, Petyr Baelish approached the pavilion accompanied by more Tully guards, displaying a victorious and satisfied smile.
"It seems everything went exactly as we planned here, my queen," Petyr announced. "Now we must prepare, for the Silent Wolf is coming our way."
And indeed, a few minutes later, the imposing figure of Eddard Stark appeared in the pavilion's garden. He walked accompanied by my son, Gendry, and the immense grey wolf, Neve. However, Ned Stark brought with him only a minimal escort of ten Northern soldiers and the two imperial Black Guard warriors, whose black armor and long cloaks looked like pieces of living shadow walking under the sunlight.
Ned stopped abruptly upon seeing his wives and daughter surrounded by dozens of armed men and archers positioned on the walls.
"What does all this mean, Catelyn?!" Ned Stark roared, his solemn voice echoing through the garden like the crash of thunder. "Have you lost your mind entirely?!"
Cersei let out a loud, sharp laugh, shaking her head.
"Yes, my dear love... I suppose spending so much time married to that filthy pig Robert has finally driven our dear queen to the limit of her mental sanity."
A young City Watch guard, recently recruited and trembling with nervousness, pressed the tip of his blade with a little more force against Cersei's neck to silence her, causing a thin trickle of crimson blood to run down the fair skin of her throat.
The golden bitch of Casterly Rock slowly turned her face toward the boy, her green eyes shining with a promise of pure death.
"I will make sure to have your head delivered on a silver platter before the end of this week for that, boy," Cersei whispered with a coldness that made the young guard turn pale instantly.
"Mother! Stop all this madness immediately!" Gendry screamed, trying to advance toward me to intervene in the conflict.
Upon seeing my sweet boy approach, I could not contain the tears that flooded my face. I ran toward him and wrapped his muscular body in a desperate embrace.
"Do not worry, my dear son... your mother is here to protect you from all these monstrosities," I cried against his chest. "I will take care of you and cleanse your mind of these cursed sorceries they have implanted in you!"
Under my silent command, several Warriors of the Faith and Tully guards moved quickly to hold my son. Gendry had inherited Robert Baratheon's extraordinary and brutal physical strength; he fought and shoved several guards with ease, but ended up being subjugated and restrained by the overwhelming number of men who threw themselves upon him.
"Take my son immediately to his royal chambers!" I ordered the guards, my voice hysterical. "Lock the door and do not let him out under any circumstances! He is under the effect of the demonic magic and mind control of the North!"
As Gendry was dragged against his will through the stone corridor, screaming my name and Ned's, I turned back to the Lord Hand.
"Now, arrest the traitors!" I commanded.
The seven members of the Kingsguard of King's Landing, who had sworn loyalty to my regency, drew their ornate swords and advanced in a coordinated manner against Ned Stark's minimal escort.
The ten soldiers of the North accompanying the Lord Hand positioned themselves in front, holding their runic steel weapons without hesitation. But it was the two imperial Black Guard warriors who truly moved first.
Unlike ordinary soldiers, Arawyn's Black Guards did not carry shields; they wore only their heavy dark armor, closed helms, and long black cloaks that fluttered in the wind. And as the members of the Kingsguard approached, the two black warriors moved.
It was no ordinary human movement. They moved with a speed so absurd, so fluid and supernatural, that they seemed to have become one with the courtyard's gusts of wind. In a fraction of a second, the two Black Guards were no longer in front of Ned Stark; they mysteriously reappeared right behind the seven members of the Southern Kingsguard.
With a single, coordinated flash of their black blades of imperial steel, the heads of the seven Kingsguard knights simultaneously flew from their necks before they could even raise their golden shields to defend themselves. Jets of crimson blood sprayed high against the stone walls of the garden and against the white rosebushes.
I saw the expression of pure dread and surprise cross Petyr Baelish's face beside me as he witnessed the ease with which the elite of the North had decimated our best knights. If they advanced like that against the rest of our troops, it would be a complete massacre.
Ned Stark made a move to step forward and draw his own blade, but I acted, driven by sheer survival instinct.
"Do not take a single step further, Stark!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pointing at the blades that the guards now pressed firmly against the throats of Cersei, Ashara, and Arya. "A single move from your men, and we will slit the throats of your wives and your daughter right before your eyes!"
The Silent Wolf stopped abruptly. His tense body hesitated, and I saw the internal conflict tear through his austere features as he looked at his family under the imminent threat of death.
But the surprise was not yet over for me on that cursed day.
Under the fair skin of Ashara Dayne's arms and neck, dozens of hidden runic marks that had been invisible until then began to glow intensely in a bright, silver tone, as if they were living stars pulsing beneath her flesh. She was about to release a devastating amount of accumulated magical energy to obliterate our guards.
"Enough, Ashara!" Ned Stark commanded, raising his left hand with authority. "Let us avoid this unnecessary bloodshed here."
The runic marks on Ashara's skin gradually lost their glow until they disappeared beneath her skin once more, though her violet gaze remained locked on me with a promise of future destruction.
Ned Stark sighed deeply, relaxing his combat stance and looking directly into my eyes.
"It seems some fraction of honor and reason still remains in you, Catelyn... if we can even call this madness reason," Ned declared, his voice solemn. "You came here to capture me on charges of high treason, correct? Then we shall make a deal. Release my wives, my daughter Arya, and all my Northern soldiers immediately. Allow them to cross the city gates back to the North in safety, and I will voluntarily surrender myself as your prisoner in the cells."
"That will not happen under any circumstances, Stark!" I retorted, my voice heavy with hatred. "We will arrest all of you!"
Petyr leaned in quickly toward my ear, whispering urgently:
"Catelyn... accept his proposal at once. Having Ned Stark as our personal hostage in the dark cells is the best guarantee we could hope for. With their own father held under our blades, the Starks and that cursed Emperor of the North will not dare to march their armies against King's Landing, fearing for his life. This will buy us the necessary time to organize our defenses and prepare for any counterattack. Let the women depart; Ned is the true prize we need to keep locked away."
I took a deep breath, realizing the tactical intelligence behind Petyr's advice.
"Very well... let it be so, then," I declared, turning to Ned. "I accept your terms, Stark. Your wives and your daughter will receive safe passage to leave the South and return to their frozen lands immediately. But you will remain here to answer for your heinous crimes of treason against the crown."
I looked at Cersei Lannister, expecting to see despair or defeat on her golden face. But the bitch merely rose from her iron chair with elegance, walked to her husband, and gently touched his face with her fingertips.
"Do not worry about anything, my dear love... everything is perfectly under control," Ned whispered to Cersei, offering her a calming smile that caused me deep discomfort.
I stood staring at that scene with a cruel doubt hammering in my mind. Why was Ned Stark so calm in the face of the prospect of being locked in a dark dungeon? Did he already know that all of this would happen?
No... that was absolutely impossible. I shook my head to banish that ridiculous thought. The true gods would never allow mere mortals of the North to be capable of seeing the lines of future time; such sovereign power belonged solely and exclusively to the Seven.
Ned Stark was disarmed and led by the City Watch guards toward the depths of the black cells of the Red Keep. To ensure that his physical and runic strength did not cause any trouble, we bound him with extremely thick and heavy solid iron chains—chains that had been forged in antiquity with a thickness sufficient to restrain even the strength of a giant from the legends.
The Departure at the Docks of King's Landing
A few days had passed since the dramatic events in the royal pavilion's garden.
Now, I was formally established as the Queen Regent of King's Landing and Protector of the South until Gendry reached his legal majority. I would bring order, peace, and the true Faith back to our fractured realm, and I certainly would not do it alone. I relied on the advice and financial support of Petyr Baelish, as well as the presence of my father, Lord Hoster Tully, whom I had formally appointed as the new Hand of the King.
My father had been extremely irritated and furious with my extreme actions of arresting the Stark, claiming that I had started a war that the South was not capable of winning, but he was simply too old to truly understand the real dimension of the mystical conspiracy the wolves were plotting against our family.
At this exact moment, I was at the docks of the port of King's Landing, surrounded by a heavy guard of Tully soldiers and Warriors of the Faith. I made a point of personally appearing at the wharf to watch the departure of the two Northern bitches and the Stark girl. I wanted to savor the taste of victory and see their expressions of utter defeat as they were expelled from my castle once and for all.
They boarded the gangplank of the immense warship of the North, a robust vessel of dark wood whose hull glowed faintly with the carvings of marine runes of purification and speed.
I approached the edge of the pier and locked my eyes directly onto those of Cersei Lannister, who remained standing on the upper deck of the ship, observing the city with supreme disdain.
"You will bitterly regret your actions, Queen Catelyn..." Cersei announced with a firm voice that echoed clearly across the port.
"Is that so, Lannister?" I replied with a mocking, victorious smile. "I am the Queen Regent of the South now. I am the one who laughs last."
"Yes... you will," Cersei continued, raising her runic voice so commandingly that all the sailors, stevedores, and guards present on the wharf stopped what they were doing to look and listen to her words. "I will return to this city of stone and mud, Catelyn Tully... but I will not return alone. I will return bringing the grey winter itself right behind me."
She took a step forward, gripping the wooden gunwale of the ship and locking her green eyes directly onto my soul with a promise of pure destruction.
"When I march back to the South accompanied by my son, Robb, and the invincible armies of the Empire of Winter... I will personally ensure that, once we have finished our cleanup work, the Lands of Always Winter in the Far North will possess infinitely more life than the rest of this cursed, decaying city of yours, King's Landing. This I guarantee you on the honor of our house."
With this last and terrible promise of war, Cersei turned her back and gave the official order for the ship's moorings to be cast off. The runic vessel began to pull slowly away from the pier, gliding through the dark waters of the bay with an impressive speed that defied the natural currents of the sea.
I tried to force a disdainful smile and let out a short laugh to show that the empty, desperate threats of a defeated woman did not affect me at all. But in the depths of my soul, I felt a cold needle of sheer dread plunge into my stomach. What if I had truly made a terrible mistake in arresting the Stark? What if the power of the Empire of Winter was far worse than our Southern minds were capable of conceiving?
No... the true gods are with me... I tried to convince myself, tightening my cloak around my body.
Turning to walk back toward my royal carriage, a sudden, extremely icy and biting breeze swept over the stones of the docks of King's Landing. The cold wind penetrated through my fine silk fabrics and caused a deep, violent shiver to run the entire length of my body.
I narrowed my eyes, confused and frightened, looking around at the bay's waters that sparkled under the hot sun.
Why was it suddenly so cold... when we were exactly in the middle of summer?