Fic: Lady Stoneheart
Title: Lady Stoneheart
Rating: PG
Character: Lady Stoneheart!Catelyn
Word Count: 697
Summary: Her only purpose is vengeance.
Note: Written for the "scarred" prompt of my 10_prompts claim.
There were no mirrors in the caves and huts she sheltered in, but she saw her face reflected in the eyes of those who saw her. They looked at her with horror and fear, and dimly she remembered when people had looked at her with admiration, with respect, with desire. They had taken her children and her life; the loss of her beauty mattered little. Grimly she even thought it to be a good thing. Her torn cheeks and wisps of white hair, the gaping red wound beneath her chin, her putrid flesh, it inspired a terror that gave her power and helped her do what she needed to do.
She needed to kill them. That was all she needed. She didn't need food or drink, didn't need warmth or sleep. Her helpers, however, needed those things. She paced while she waited for them, eager to be on the hunt for another Frey. There were so many of them, and Lannisters, and Boltons, and all their lackeys, and she had killed so few as yet.
"We have good news, my lady," said the man Harwin. She had known him, though she could scarcely remember. There was anger in his eyes when he looked at her, not anger towards her, but for her. She kept him near for that as much for his ability to understand her and make her words known to the others. "Arya may be alive."
"We had not wanted to give you false hope," said the priest Thoros. The others hailed her as a miracle of his red god, but he feared her. He had not left with the squire and the archer and the Tyroshi, though, he stayed out of duty. She had forgotten so much but she remembered duty. Her duty was the same as her will: to avenge her family.
"We were not sure whether Clegane meant to ransom the child to you or another of your family, or whether he meant to sell her to the Lannisters. But we have received reliable word that he was seen at the wedding with a child. He fought there and managed to escape the slaughter."
"We don't know whether he still has Arya with him," Harwin said. "But I promise we will find them, my lady."
Her heart was dead. It did not beat. The thing left in her chest could not hope. She could not believe she would see her child again. But she wrapped her hands around her severed throat to hold the muscles tight and commanded, "Find her." Even to her own ears, it was a nearly incomprehensible hiss, but Harwin nodded.
"Aye, we'll find her if we have to scour every inch of this bloody land."
They left her alone while they went to eat and tend to bodily needs she no longer had. She did not sleep, but the nightmares came anyway. That awful music playing, arrows raining down, a traitor saying, "Jaime Lannister sends his regard," the sword plunging into her son's chest - it took all her will to force it from the forefront of her mind. But others took its place: her two little boys' heads on pikes, pecked at by ravens; her beautiful daughter helpless under a vile dwarf; Arya alone and afraid, calling for her. She moaned and she knew the sound that came from her damaged throat would frighten any who heard it.
"M'lady?" A girl had come to see what was the matter. "Is there anything we can get you?"
"Horrssssse," she said.
The girl ran to carry out the order and Thoros came. "It's late," he said.
She did not care. She had to do something. She'd ride to Oldstones now. They'd have another Frey for her by the time she arrived there. She would know no peace until everyone who had had a hand in her family's destruction was dead.
Her helpers called her simply "lady" but the common people had other names when they whispered about her. They called her the Hangwoman, and Mother Merciless, but she liked Lady Stoneheart best. It was a name to strike fear into the hearts of those who had destroyed her heart.
Rating: PG
Character: Lady Stoneheart!Catelyn
Word Count: 697
Summary: Her only purpose is vengeance.
Note: Written for the "scarred" prompt of my 10_prompts claim.
There were no mirrors in the caves and huts she sheltered in, but she saw her face reflected in the eyes of those who saw her. They looked at her with horror and fear, and dimly she remembered when people had looked at her with admiration, with respect, with desire. They had taken her children and her life; the loss of her beauty mattered little. Grimly she even thought it to be a good thing. Her torn cheeks and wisps of white hair, the gaping red wound beneath her chin, her putrid flesh, it inspired a terror that gave her power and helped her do what she needed to do.
She needed to kill them. That was all she needed. She didn't need food or drink, didn't need warmth or sleep. Her helpers, however, needed those things. She paced while she waited for them, eager to be on the hunt for another Frey. There were so many of them, and Lannisters, and Boltons, and all their lackeys, and she had killed so few as yet.
"We have good news, my lady," said the man Harwin. She had known him, though she could scarcely remember. There was anger in his eyes when he looked at her, not anger towards her, but for her. She kept him near for that as much for his ability to understand her and make her words known to the others. "Arya may be alive."
"We had not wanted to give you false hope," said the priest Thoros. The others hailed her as a miracle of his red god, but he feared her. He had not left with the squire and the archer and the Tyroshi, though, he stayed out of duty. She had forgotten so much but she remembered duty. Her duty was the same as her will: to avenge her family.
"We were not sure whether Clegane meant to ransom the child to you or another of your family, or whether he meant to sell her to the Lannisters. But we have received reliable word that he was seen at the wedding with a child. He fought there and managed to escape the slaughter."
"We don't know whether he still has Arya with him," Harwin said. "But I promise we will find them, my lady."
Her heart was dead. It did not beat. The thing left in her chest could not hope. She could not believe she would see her child again. But she wrapped her hands around her severed throat to hold the muscles tight and commanded, "Find her." Even to her own ears, it was a nearly incomprehensible hiss, but Harwin nodded.
"Aye, we'll find her if we have to scour every inch of this bloody land."
They left her alone while they went to eat and tend to bodily needs she no longer had. She did not sleep, but the nightmares came anyway. That awful music playing, arrows raining down, a traitor saying, "Jaime Lannister sends his regard," the sword plunging into her son's chest - it took all her will to force it from the forefront of her mind. But others took its place: her two little boys' heads on pikes, pecked at by ravens; her beautiful daughter helpless under a vile dwarf; Arya alone and afraid, calling for her. She moaned and she knew the sound that came from her damaged throat would frighten any who heard it.
"M'lady?" A girl had come to see what was the matter. "Is there anything we can get you?"
"Horrssssse," she said.
The girl ran to carry out the order and Thoros came. "It's late," he said.
She did not care. She had to do something. She'd ride to Oldstones now. They'd have another Frey for her by the time she arrived there. She would know no peace until everyone who had had a hand in her family's destruction was dead.
Her helpers called her simply "lady" but the common people had other names when they whispered about her. They called her the Hangwoman, and Mother Merciless, but she liked Lady Stoneheart best. It was a name to strike fear into the hearts of those who had destroyed her heart.