Robb

A small council, they called themselves, and they were that. Only three people sat the twelve stone chairs surrounding the weirwood table. The war was won, the North was his, but King Robb had learned to move with trepidation. The Boltons had taught him that lesson with their treachery. I can not afford to trust every ally, Robb reminded himself, if there are only three people in this world I can rely on, then I will call them my council and thank the gods.

To the immediate left sat his mother. Grief had changed Catelyn Stark's features, Robb could remember a time when her watery blue eyes would shimmer in adoration for her children every day, but since Sansa was executed in King's Landing they watered only in sadness and worry. Her council was often a panicked plea for Robb to put his own safety before the lives of his subjects, nevertheless she was his mother, and he valued her opinion.

Littlefinger was accepted into the council mostly be default. He was the man who had sent Catelyn a raven warning her and Robb not to attend the wedding of Edmure Tully and the Frey girl, at first Robb had assumed it a sad ploy to manipulate him into insulting Walder Frey's honour and thus cause a rift in his alliance with the house, but when Littlefinger arrived at Riverrun the next day on a boat he brought documents with him, letters to the Freys and the Boltons sent by Tywin Lannister.

"Know what a man desires, and you know when not to trust him." Littlefinger had once said, and Robb thinks of it often.

"I know what he desires Robb," his mother had said. "He desires to rule over the Dreadfort, and to have influence over the kingdom. Give him what he wants, and he will content himself with it. Keep these things from him, and somewhere along the line he will betray you."

Robb did not doubt it, but as long as Baelish was kept happy he was a powerful ally, that could not be denied. He often gave the best council, and he had inside knowledge of the court of King's Landing.

Maester Luwin had been like a grandfather to Robb for as long as he could remember. After Winterfell was declared the capital of the North, Luwin actively involved himself in political affairs, and it became quite clear that much of the Maester's Citadel education had been wasted in the hands of house Stark. He was welcomed into the Small Council with sincere gratitude.

Today Luwin read out the status reports of ship construction with the loud commanding voice of renewed vigor, becoming involved in politics had been good for him.

"...and you'll be pleased to hear that House has made good with their promise of ironwood, at last count we have enough for five new galleys, though it will be a long while before we can expect any more of that particular resource. Once, the ships are built, House Umber has agreed to resume supplying our wood."

Silence washed over the Small Council. Petyr lazily thumbed his moustache, Catelyn looked meekly at the floor, and Luwin glanced expectantly between the other two council members and the King.

"Well, if that is that." Robb nodded. "I believe we can call this meeting to a close. Thank you, Maester Luwin."

"Of course Your Grace. Although, I believe Lord Baelish has a report of his own that he was going to bring to your attention."

All eyes turned towards Littlefinger. "Oh," he said, as though only just remembering something. "Yes. If I may Your Grace, there is another matter of more... trivial importance."

"Out with it Baelish." Robb instructed pointedly. Although he valued Littlefinger's services, he often grew weary of the man's roundabout way of speaking.

"My scouts have spotted an escort from the Wall, they are coming to treat with you, almost certainly to ask you to send them more resources. I have also-"

"Out of the question." Catelyn put in quickly. "We are stretched far too thin as it is, the North will not hold itself, and a new king must have a firm grip if he is to keep his crown."

Maester Luwin sighed. "By all accounts, I have to say that any giving of resources to the Wall would put us in a dire predicament. However... I don't believe that any predicament is as dire as what is going on beyond that wall right now."

"Maester Luwin, we have heard your uninformed opinions about the Others many times before," Catelyn sniffed. "But a king can not act on theories and speculation."

"A king can speak for himself," Robb scolded. "I should hope you'd remember that."

At that Catelyn returned to her meekness.

"The Wall is part of the North, and we must protect it." Luwin urged.

Petyr shrugged. "It can't be done. We don't have the gold. Let's not argue about this when there are other things to be discussed. Your Grace, if I had been allowed to finish my sentance earlier I'd have told you that your bastard brother was seen leading the escort."

"Jon?" Robb gasped, and he felt his mother's lips tighten on her face. "He is the Lord Commander, he could not leave Castle Black."

Petyr threw his hands up. "It seems he can."

"A temporary Lord Commandor would take his place in his absence Your Grace," Luwin offered. "It is the way on the Wall."

Robb did not know what to say. He never expected to see Jon again, especially after learning of his new office.

"How long?" he asked.

"A day," Petyr shrugged again. "Two."

"Then we must be ready to treat him with the honour befitting his station. Have the guest chambers prepared."

Catelyn scoffed. "Robb, we cannot agree to-"

"We cannot agree, that I know. But he is still my brother, and I am happy just to hear of him again, Mother."

So happy it almost feels like sadness. What has the Wall done to him, I wonder. Will he still be the same brother who would climb the weirwoods with me? Who would help me play japes on Sansa? Will he be the same brother who would keep me warm in the cold Winterfell nights?

No, I must not think that. His battles will have hardened him, I must expect a man as cold and unmoving as the Wall itself. I must expect that, or else my heart might break.