Chapter 82 — The Three-Eyed Raven
Stevron Frey knew full well that Edmure Tully could not be used to take Riverrun. Still, he had the man hoisted up and flogged every single day, venting his fury at being outwitted by Robb Stark.
"How long will the food stores last?" Robb asked quietly, glancing toward the distant gallows outside the walls, where his uncle Edmure's cries drifted in on the wind.
"Your Grace, enough for three months," replied Lord Ryk, one of the northern bannermen.
Robb let out a slow breath. Fortunately, after learning that Walder Frey might mean them harm, his mother Catelyn had immediately begun stockpiling grain. Otherwise, they would already be starved to death within Riverrun by the combined Frey and Lannister forces.
"The water gates and the moat — have they been checked?" Robb continued.
"Yes, thoroughly."
There were several thousand defenders inside Riverrun. Even if the Frey and Lannister armies threw in every soldier they had, they still might not take the castle by storm.
Their only real chance lay in crossing the river or slipping through the flooded moat, infiltrating the water gate and opening the defenses from within.
"Your Grace, from our observations, the Lannisters do not seem readying an assault today. Instead, they've changed commanders. Someone recognized the new leader — it's Kevan Lannister, Lord Tywin's brother," Ryk reported.
"Kevan? Wasn't he ill and returned to Casterly Rock? Has he recovered?" Kevan was far more capable than the commanders they'd faced before.
Robb watched the enemy movements a while longer before descending from the battlements.
He did not know how much longer Riverrun could hold. Even if they survived three months, what then? Starve to death behind the walls?
After losing his wife Talisa at the Red Wedding, Robb had sunk into despair for a long time before slowly regaining himself. He did not know how much longer he could endure — a king in name, pushed onto the Northern throne by fate rather than desire.
He walked silently into the council hall. The lively discussions of lords and captains were long gone. Only his mother sat alone in a corner, lost in thought.
Hearing the doors open, Catelyn turned toward her son.
"Robb… who do you think sent us that warning before the wedding?" she asked.
They had speculated countless times about the mysterious messenger, yet never found an answer. They had expected him to contact them again after the Red Wedding — but no message ever came.
Their bannermen and allies had either abandoned them or plotted against them. The only person left they could almost trust was the one who had once warned them.
Highgarden had allied with the Lannisters. Dorne had as well. Neither could be responsible. As for the other great houses, none seemed both capable of learning Walder Frey's secret plan and willing to save the Starks.
In King's Landing, the only person they had any past connection with was Petyr Baelish.
Catelyn found herself thinking once more of her childhood companion… yet even she could not believe Littlefinger had the reach to uncover such a tightly guarded plot — or the motive to help them.
Since her husband Eddard's death, Catelyn had never again trusted Petyr Baelish — the man who had loved her since childhood.
"We have to send someone out — to the North, or to my sister Lysa in the Vale. They're the only ones who might help us," Robb said.
He no longer wanted to waste time guessing who had sent the warning that saved them. All he could do was wait for that person to reach out again.
Now he could only pray for aid — from the northern lords he had once alienated in the name of justice, or from Aunt Lysa.
"Even if House Karstark is willing, their numbers alone may not be enough to break the siege. As for your Aunt Lysa…" Catelyn's voice hardened. "Her world revolves around that sickly boy of hers, still suckling at her breast at ten years old."
Thinking of how much her sister had changed, Catelyn held little hope.
"We have no other choice. If they come, I'll apologize — I'll make amends for everything," Robb said quietly. Gone was the fiery pride he'd had when first crowned King in the North.
He had heard stories of Aunt Lysa from his mother, but never imagined that even now — with them trapped — she would not send help. Still, he did not press Catelyn further. He trusted her judgment.
Seeing her son's dejected expression, Catelyn did not despair. Escaping the wedding alive was already a miracle. Countless times she had silently thanked both the unknown messenger and the Seven.
Even now, she still dreamed of Robb being butchered before her eyes — and woke in relief each time.
Though Riverrun had been besieged for over ten days, she was not overly afraid. House Tully had stood in the Riverlands for thousands of years. Riverrun had faced sieges before — and survived them all.
They had escaped certain death at the Red Wedding. She believed she would live to see her children again.
---
Beyond the Wall
Far to the northwest beyond the Wall, after traveling thousands of miles, Bran finally reached a cave beneath a colossal weirwood tree.
Even now, as skeletal wights smashed themselves against the cave's magical barrier and shattered into piles of bones, Bran and the others were shaken.
If not for the two direwolves and the strange humans who had emerged from the cave to help them, they never would have made it inside. Jojen had died protecting Bran, cut down by the wights.
"Who are you?" Bran asked, cradled in Hodor's arms, staring at the strange being before him.
The figure was small, with dark brown skin and hair the same color, braided into thin strands like a nest of tiny snakes coiled atop the head. Its clothing seemed made of roots and bark, some roots sunken deep into its flesh, fused with its body.
"I am one of the Children of the Forest. You may call me Leaf. The Three-Eyed Raven has waited a long time for you. Follow me."
Leaf slipped into a tunnel formed of tangled roots. Hodor had to hunch low to squeeze through.
Meera, Jojen's sister, the wildling Osha, young Rickon, and the two direwolves followed close behind.
After two turns within the cave, Leaf led Bran into a wide chamber still threaded with weirwood roots.
The roots climbed the walls and ceiling, converging around a white-haired old man who seemed fused with the tree itself.
He was gaunt beyond belief. Below his chest, no human body remained — and even his arms had sprouted branches.
The group stared in horror. How could such a being exist? How had he survived?
"You have finally come, Bran Stark," the old man said slowly, his voice frail.
"You're the Three-Eyed Raven? The one who brought me here?" Bran asked, lying on the damp stone floor, looking up.
"You may call me that," the old man replied. "Or you may call me Brynden Rivers."
"Why did you bring me here?" Bran asked. Ever since his fall from the tower, he had dreamed again and again of a three-eyed raven.
---