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Catelyn

           Somesaidthechildrenoftheforesthelpedhimbuildit,shapingthestoneswithmagic;othersclaimedthatasmallboytoldhimwhathemustdo,aboywhowouldgrowtobeBrantheBuilder.Nomatterhowthetalewastold,theendwasthesame.Thoughtheangrygodsthrewstormafterstormagainstit,theseventhcastlestooddefiant,andDurranGodsgriefandfairEleneidwelttheretogetheruntiltheendoftheirdays.

           Godsdonotforget,andstillthegalescameragingupthenarrowsea.YetStorm’sEndendured,throughcenturiesandtensofcenturies,acastlelikenoother.Itsgreatcurtainwallwasahundredfeethigh,unbrokenbyarrowslitorpostern,everywhererounded,curving,smooth,itsstonesfitsocunninglytogetherthatnowherewascrevicenoranglenorgapbywhichthewindmightenter.Thatwallwassaidtobefortyfeetthickatitsnarrowest,andneareightyontheseawardface,adoublecourseofstoneswithaninnercoreofsandandrubble.Withinthatmightybulwark,thekitchensandstablesandyardsshelteredsafefromwindandwave.Oftowers,therewasbutone,acolossaldrumtower,windowlesswhereitfacedthesea,solargethatitwasgranaryandbarracksandfeasthallandlord’sdwellingallinone,crownedbymassivebattlementsthatmadeitlookfromafarlikeaspikedfistatopanup-thrustarm.

           "Mylady,"HalMollencalled.Tworidershademergedfromthetidylittlecampbeneaththecastle,andwerecomingtowardthemataslowwalk."ThatwillbeKingStannis."

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