Devon knew all too well that Edmure would never be able to take Riverrun. Still, he continued to hang Edmure from a rope and beat him daily, venting his fury over being deceived by Robb.
"How much food do we have left in the city?" Robb asked the man beside him, glancing at his uncle Edmure, whose agonized wails echoed from the gallows outside the walls.
"Your Majesty, we have enough for three months," replied Lage, a Northern Vassal.
Hearing the report, Robb finally breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good thing his mother, Catelyn, had rushed to stockpile grain the moment they learned Walder Frey might be plotting against them. Otherwise, they would have been besieged to death in Riverrun by the combined forces of House Frey and House Lannister.
"Have the water gate and the moat been inspected?" Robb continued.
"They have, Your Majesty."
Riverrun was garrisoned by several thousand soldiers. Even if the Frey and Lannister alliance committed their entire army, they would struggle to breach its walls. Their only chance of victory lay in crossing the river or infiltrating the water gate through the flooded moat to open the gates from within.
"Your Majesty," Lage reported, "our scouts observe that the Lannister army doesn't seem to be preparing for an assault today. Instead, they've changed commanders. Someone has recognized the new commander as Kevon, Tywin's brother."
"Kevon! Wasn't he sick and sent back to Casterly Rock? Could his illness be cured?" Kevon was far more formidable than the previous commanders.
Robb observed the movements of the army outside the city for a while longer before descending from the ramparts.
He didn't know how much longer he could hold Riverrun. Even if they managed to survive the siege for three months, would they simply starve to death after that?
After losing his wife, Talisa, at the Red Wedding, Robb had been despondent for a long time before slowly recovering. He didn't know how much longer he, the Majesty who had been thrust into the position of King in the North, could endure.
He walked silently into the Council Hall. The lively scene of king and court discussing matters was long gone. Robb saw only his mother, Catelyn, sitting in a corner, lost in thought.
Hearing the hall doors swing open, Catelyn finally turned to look at Robb as he entered.
"Robb, who do you think sent us the message before the wedding?" Catelyn asked, looking up at her son.
They had speculated countless times about the identity of the messenger, but they had never received a definite answer. They had hoped the messenger would contact them again after the Red Wedding, but they never heard from him again.
Their vassals and allies had either deserted them or were plotting their downfall. Now, the only one they seemed to be able to trust was the person who had sent them the message.
Highgarden and Dorne had both formed alliances with House Lannister, so neither of them was an option. They couldn't think of any other nobles who would have the means to learn of Walder's plan and the willingness to help them.
The only person in King's Landing they had any connection to was Littlefinger, Petyr. Catelyn's mind returned to her childhood friend, but she only thought of Petyr—she didn't believe he would have the ability to obtain such secret information and help them.
Ever since her husband Ned's death, she had ceased to trust Petyr, who had loved her since they were children.
"We must send someone out to seek help from the North or from Aunt Lysa at the Eyrie. They are the only ones who might save us."
Robb no longer wanted to guess who the messenger was who had saved them. He could only wait for the person to contact him again.
Now, he could only pray for the aid of the Northern vassals who had abandoned him because of his sense of justice, or for his aunt Lysa's help.
"Even if House Karstark were willing to come, their numbers alone might not be enough to break the siege. As for your Aunt Lysa, she only has eyes for her ten-year-old son who is still nursing." Recalling how much her sister had changed, Catelyn held little hope for her.
"We have no other choice now. If they're willing to come, I'd even apologize to them!" Robb had long since lost the spirited confidence he'd shown when he'd declared himself king.
He had heard his mother, Catelyn, mention Aunt Lysa before, but he never expected her to refuse to send aid even when the two of them were trapped. He hadn't asked his mother about it again, trusting her judgment of his aunt.
Seeing her son's despondent expression, Catelyn felt no despair. She had already thanked the messenger and the Seven countless times for their protection, allowing them to escape the wedding safely.
Though many days had passed, she still saw her son Robb brutally murdered before her eyes in her dreams. Waking up, she felt immensely relieved.
Despite Riverrun being besieged by a massive army for over ten days, she wasn't worried. House Tully had stood in the Riverlands for thousands of years, and Riverrun had faced sieges before, always overcoming the danger.
They had escaped the Red Wedding—a situation that seemed certain death. She believed she would one day be reunited with her children.
***
Northwest of the Wall, Bran had traveled a thousand miles, finally arriving at a cave beneath a massive Weirwood tree.
Even as they watched the Skeleton Soldiers shatter into scattered bones against the magical barrier at the cave's entrance, Bran and his companions remained shaken. They had only managed to escape into the cave with the help of the two Direwolves and the humans who emerged from within. Jojen had died at the hands of the Skeleton Soldiers, sacrificing himself to protect Bran.
"Who are you?" Bran asked, still cradled in Hodor's arms, as he stared at the strange figure before them.
The person standing before him was short, with deep chestnut skin and hair of the same color, woven into thin braids that coiled like little snakes atop her head. Her clothes were fashioned from roots and bark, some of which had grown so deeply into her flesh that they seemed to have merged with her body.
"I am a Child of the Forest," she replied. "You can call me Leaf. The Three-Eyed Raven has been waiting for you for a long time. Follow me."
With that, Leaf slipped into a passage formed by the gnarled, interlocking roots. Hodor's massive frame could only pass through the tunnel by stooping low.
Jojen's sister Meera, the wildling woman Osha, Rickon, and the two direwolves followed behind Hodor.
After two turns inside the cave, Leaf led Bran into an open space still crisscrossed with weirwood roots.
The roots on the cave wall extended upward, and in their midst was an old man with white hair, fused into the great tree.
The old man was emaciated and withered. Below his chest, no human body remained; even his two arms had sprouted branches.
The group stared in horror at the scene before them, wondering how such a strange human could exist in the world, and how he had even survived until now.
"You have finally come, Brandon Stark," the old man spoke slowly, his voice filled with weakness.
"Are you the Three-Eyed Raven, the one who brought me here?" Bran asked, lying on the damp ground and looking up at the old man.
"You may call me that, or you may call me Brynden Rivers," the old man replied.
"Why did you bring me here?" Ever since Bran had fallen from the tower, he had been plagued by strange dreams of a three-eyed raven.
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