Swimming Upstream

In the Godswood a large number of the Brotherhood were assembled. The place had once been beautiful, full of flowers and well tended trees, in summer the birds would sing, and in autumn the leaves would turn shades of red, yellow, and a bold brown. However, winter had come, and the godswood looked harsh now. A number of Freys were standing in a row, disarmed, and chained. From the Redwoods and the Oak tree hung quite a few Freys, knights or soldiers, women and children. Some Freys were hanging from the Weirwood, the twisted sad face of the tree seemed to stare back at any who looked at it. Like a scene from some horrific story about savages before the coming of the Andals. Another Frey was pulled forward, some weasel faced knight likely named after a scion of a far better house. “Guilty.” Catelyn croaked, and the man was strung up upon the white branches of the weirwood, despite his protests. Brynden stood near his niece, as she passed grizzly judgement.

Mother Merciless turned attention from her judgement, as Lem Lemoncloak brought forward some no name Frey, half a boy in ill fitted armor. The hard blue eyes lodged in her ruin of a face looked through Jaime. She said nothing, but the young Northman spoke up for her. “And what will she do at the Rock? Plot to put her mongrel Frey spawn in Riverrun?” The kid’s face was scrunched up. Catelyn palmed at the wolf head pommel on the half of Ice that she possessed, an improvement added by Ser Gendry.

There was a silence, interrupted by Lem. “The kid pissed himself!” He called out, a few men laughed at the obvious discomfort and fear displayed by the young Frey.

Catelyn drew the boy close and croaked something into his ear. He turned his gaze back toward Jaime. “She will acknowledge that she and her spawn have no claim to Riverrun, and she will be the Lady’s.. guest.” He replied. “As long as she behaves she will not face the same fate as Emmon. Once all the Freys are dead..” He left the words trailing.

Men of the Brotherhood reached down toward their blades, or gripped their spears tightly. “Promise..” Catelyn croaked. “You expect us to let two Lannisters slip through our fingers? Who refuse to dismiss their claim to Riverrun?” Catelyn stared forward at Jaime, her eye-lids open wide, the Northman continued. “You said you were to become our hostage after Riverrun was taken.. Are you intent on changing the arrangement?” Things had changed, Tommen was no longer in Kingslanding, but the Kingslayer would still fetch a price with Stannis or the Dragon to the south. And without a Lannister in hand nothing would stop Westermen from marching in from the west again.

"Who would stand against this?" Jaime began. "I have no claim to Riverrun, and Genna does not. That much is clear. Tommen is no longer King, Cersei is dead, The Twins are open to you and indeed half the Riverlands are in open rebellion to that effect." Jaime sighed. "I have been true to my oath. Riverrun is yours." Jaime laughed. "Value? What value do you think I have the longer I waste away here? Who will pay my ransom? Kill me and do them the favor of it. I am sure Stannis would approve, or this pretender from across the narrow sea."

Mother Merciless stepped forward looking to the blubbering woman, in this place she was no lion, just a rotund and frightened woman. But, she knew to release them would risk the wrath of the Westermen against her, and her forces were not enough to deal with the Freys alone. Let alone the the Westernen as well. She turned toward the line of Freys, her discolored and bloated lips twitching. “G..guilty.” She croaked, halfway between a woman’s voice and a dying animals screams. Lem gave her a nod and made to hang the man. The corpses nostrils were flaring, as if she were taking deep breath, though her chest neither rose nor fell. She turned her horrifying visage from them. “You will be “guests” Lady Genna, you and Jaime Lannister. And as good guest you will sign whatever is necessary.” The boy said. “Until such a time as our position is secured. As the Blackfish says, we cannot afford to lose pieces.” He exhaled, stepping forward toward the oversized Lannister, the boy couldn’t be more than sixteen seventeen name-days, around Robb’s age when he passed. “I would not advice playing on her.. motherly nature, I’m not sure it survived the wedding your good-father arranged.”

The Northman rolled his eyes. “Lock them in their rooms.” He replied. “If they resist, try not to kill them.” He said plainly. As other Frey were being hoisted into the trees.