Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Catelyn Stark finally rode through the gates of Winterfell. Snow crunched under the horses' hooves and the cold wind bit at her face, but the moment she saw the grey stone walls she felt something loosen in her chest.

Every servant and every man-at-arms bowed as she passed. For the first time since she left King's Landing, she felt like she was home.

"Mother!"

Robb came running across the yard in his grey wolfskin cloak, arms open. Catelyn slid from the saddle and pulled her eldest son into a fierce hug.

"Robb."

She kissed his cheek and held him tight for a long moment.

"Where's Bran?" she asked, pulling back. "And Rickon… where did you bury him?"

Bran appeared a moment later, pushed in his new wheeled chair by the wildling woman Osha. His face was pale and his voice came out low.

"I'm here, Mother."

Catelyn's eyes filled with tears the second she saw him. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him like he was still a little boy.

"My poor boy," she whispered, voice breaking. "My poor, sweet boy."

Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Old Nan, and even Theon stood a few steps away, all of them fighting back tears of their own.

When Catelyn finally let go, she turned to the two men who had escorted her north.

"Thoros. Ser Beric. I owe you both my life. Will you rest here a while, or are you heading back to King's Landing?"

Beric answered first. "We'll stay the night, my lady. Then we ride north."

Robb stepped forward, frowning. "North? Winter's already here. It only gets colder and crueler past the Wall. You should stay."

Thoros gave a rough laugh. "You ever killed a man, boy? You know what real cruelty looks like?"

"I've killed," Robb said quietly. "Wildlings. Bandits. Mercenaries."

"Then you should understand," Thoros said. "We're going north to stop an army of death from coming south. The Lord of Light commands it."

"Valar morghulis," Thoros added.

"Valar dohaeris," Beric finished.

Robb and the others exchanged looks. Followers of the red god. In the North that faith had almost no foothold.

Robb cleared his throat. "You can take whatever supplies and men you need from Winterfell. If you're truly going north, you'll need them."

"Thank you, Lord Robb," Beric said with a nod.

Catelyn walked alone to the fresh grave in the wolfswood. The stone was still new, the letters carved only days ago. She stood there for a long time, then dropped to her knees and wept until her throat was raw.

When she finally spoke, her voice was raw with rage.

"Robb. Who killed your brother? I want their head."

Robb stood a few feet behind her, voice tight. "We think it was someone in King's Landing. We don't know who yet. Maybe Tony could help. He's always been good at puzzles."

Theon stepped forward and drew his sword. "If you find the killer, my lady, I'll ride south and take his head myself. In Lord Eddard's name."

Catelyn turned on him, eyes cold. "This is Stark business. Stark blood. You remember your place, Theon Greyjoy."

Theon's face went stiff. He sheathed his sword without another word and walked away.

The others stayed quiet. No one wanted to cross Catelyn while her grief was still this fresh.

Later, Osha pushed Bran's chair into the godswood. The tall weirwoods stood like silent sentinels, their red leaves whispering in the wind. The air felt older here, heavier.

Bran climbed out of the chair and crawled across the cold ground until he reached the edge of the dark pool. He dipped his fingers into the water. The shock of cold cleared his head.

"Yesterday I had a dream," he said quietly.

Osha waited, saying nothing.

"I was in a strange place. There was a giant… huge, taller than the Wall. I couldn't see his face, but he felt… old. Then I saw a body on the ground. It was covered in wounds. I didn't know who it was, but it made me sad. Then a dragon made of fire appeared. It burned everything. The whole world was on fire and I was running, but it kept chasing me. I woke up sweating and shaking."

Bran kept his eyes on the water.

"I also dreamed of Ice. Our family sword. It was in someone else's hands — an old man with white hair and a white beard, wearing white armor and a white cloak."

He swallowed.

"I saw Uncle Benjen and Tony. They were on a frozen lake, surrounded by dead things with blue eyes. Green fire was burning on the water, destroying the corpses."

Bran's voice dropped lower.

"And I dreamed of a crow. It had three eyes and black wings. It gave me a sword… Dark Sister. The old Valyrian steel blade."

A sudden rustle came from the trees. Osha spun around, hand going to her knife.

It was Hodor.

Old Nan had begged Catelyn, and Catelyn had finally told Robb to let him out. The big man crashed through the undergrowth, eyes wide and desperate.

"Hodor!" Bran called out, voice cracking with relief.

Hodor dropped to his knees beside Bran and wrapped his huge arms around him, burying his face against the boy's shoulder.

"Hodor," he mumbled, over and over. "Hodor…"