Robb
HE SHIFTED IN HIS CHAIR, RAN HIS HANDS THROUGH HIS HAIR, AND SIGHED. "So," he said, biting back the urge to wince at how lost and uncomfortable he sounded, "do you understand what I'm saying?"
Across from him, Rickon didn't look up. The boy kept his gaze firmly locked on Shaggydog, brow furrowed as if petting the direwolf was the most important task in the world, the only thing that could possibly interest him. "You're going away."
Robb could only nod, somehow resisting the urge to spread his hands. Patience, he reminded himself, he's only a child. Bran had grasped what Robb was trying to tell him almost immediately, but Bran was eleven while Rickon was only six. There were years of lessons from Maester Luwin, thousands of words of wisdom from Mother and Father, and a life shattering tragedy laying between the two boys. All children are different, Mother had told him, he didn't know how many times, so Robb took a deep breath and slowly, carefully, let it out. "Unless something changes, yes."
Rickon's hand paused, halfway up Shaggydog's belly. Robb did his best to ignore the slight tremble that rippled up and down his little brother's body before Rickon resumed his belly rubs. "Like what?"
Like, Father is released, Robb wanted to say. Like, Sansa and Arya are returned to us. Like, Joffrey and the Queen drop this ludicrous demand that I present myself in King's Landing, alone and with no assurances or negotiations. Like, we all blink and it turns out that the past nine months have been nothing more than a horrid dream. But Robb wasn't sure how much of that Rickon would understand. Gods, I'm not sure how much of it I understand myself. So, he settled for, "Like…anything, really. I'll settle for just about anything." That wasn't quite a lie, which didn't make it taste any better in his mouth.
Silence fell on them, as Robb stared at his hands, which seemed to be the only way to stop his fidgeting. The shutters were open on the windows, letting in just enough sunlight to make the room look like a place someone might want to live. When Robb had entered, all the shutters had been closed tight, so that his little brother was alone, shrouded in darkness, endlessly rubbing his direwolf's belly. That had set alarms ringing in Robb's ears, but he hadn't known what to do about it, wasn't even sure what it could mean, I never was good with the little ones, Jon would know what to do, Jon and Sansa, so he had stomped into the room and thrown open the shutters and told Rickon that they needed to talk.
Robb had done most of the talking, had even paced at one point, but his little brother had remained on his bed, petting his direwolf.
In the end, it was Rickon who shattered the silence. "A lot of men have come here."
That was true. The ravens had been flying so thick that Robb was surprised they hadn't blotted out the sun. The days after sending out the call had been the worst of Robb's young life, endless grinding hours and little sleep, no matter how Maester Luwin had begged him to rest. Even Theon had counseled Robb to sleep, and Robb had tried, but he had always failed.
But then the responses came, and not long after the soldiers. They had poured in, continued to pour in, first a trickle, and now a flood. The Winter Town was full to bursting, the growing camp outside the curtain wall sprouted more banners every day, and Theon had told him that the madame of the brothel in the Winter Town was toasting Robb's health before and after every meal. There were times when Robb felt that all he did was stand in the yard, receiving homage from his vassal lords, vassal lords Robb then spent countless hours in Father's solar with, vassal lords Robb had to feast near every night. And always a different one beside me at the head of the table, while the definition of above the salt grows wider with each passing day.
Father was right. War is a tedious business.
"Yes," Robb admitted, "a lot of men, indeed."
"And Jon's coming, too?"
Robb finally allowed himself to smile, and this time, it didn't feel forced. "Yes." He had had the raven just two days before, and every time he thought of it, he wanted to jump up and dance with glee. At least, if nothing else, all of this has seen that mistake corrected. "He should be here any day now, with the Smalljon and the first part of Lord Umber's levy."
Rickon was nodding, and either Robb was seeing what wasn't there, or just a little bit of life had leaked back into the boy's face. "That's good. I didn't like it when Father sent him away."
Robb worked hard to keep the smile on his face. "Neither did I, but that's done now. He'll be here, you can see him again, and when I go south, he'll be there to watch my back."
Rickon was still nodding. Robb couldn't help but feel that that wasn't a good thing, but it was the most life anyone had seen out of Rickon since Mother had gone south, so Robb decided to take the victory. "Bran will be happy, too."
"I should imagine so."
A pause, and the nodding stopped. "Mother will be upset."
Mother will be furious, but what's done is done, and she can just live with it. The words in Robb's head sounded more confident than he felt, but he knew, deep down in his heart of hearts, that he was right, and his parents had been wrong. Jon was a Stark, and he belonged with his family. He never should've been sent away. "A little, but she'll come around."
Rickon looked dubious. "If you say so."
Robb couldn't help but laugh. "Well, we shall see! In fact-"
He was cut off by the knock at the door. Robb sighed, stood, adjusted his sword and ran his hands down his doublet. One must always look a lord, Father was always saying, especially when one doesn't feel it. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal one of the steward's boys. The boy gave a quick bow and said, in a small, thin voice, "M'lord, apologies, but the Umber banner's been seen on the road. Master said you'd want to know right quick."
Robb's heart jumped into his throat. Finally. It would be good to no longer be the only grown Stark in Winterfell. "Have they been met?"
"Yes, m'lord," the boy said, eyes still firmly locked on Robb's boots. "Ser Rodrik sent a man out soon as they was seen, m'lord."
Robb sighed. "Look up, lad."
"…m'lord?"
"I said, look up, I won't bite you."
The boy gulped, paused, and finally looked up, though Robb didn't miss that the boy's gaze made it no higher than Robb's chest. Another of the new ones. Vayon Poole had taken so many of the best, most experienced servants to King's Landing. Robb prayed that all were well. Surely, they must be. What need could there be to put servants to the sword? Robb pushed the thought away, reached into his purse, and tossed the boy a silver stag.
For all that the boy wasn't really looking, he still caught it, and when he saw what Robb had tossed him, his eyes went wide as saucers. "I…I mean…m'lord…"
Robb reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "This is the best news I've had since my brother woke up. Take it, enjoy it, try not to spend it all in one place."
The boy shook his head, made the coin disappear. "I won't, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord."
Robb waved him towards the door. "Go on then, be about your duties."
The boy bowed his way out the door with what felt like a hundred m'lords, and when he was gone, Robb turned back to Rickon. "Well, that'll be Jon. Want to come with me? He'll be mighty pleased to see you."
For a moment, Robb thought he might have gotten through to his brother, might have finally found the key that would release the boy from the sadness that enveloped him, the sadness that was shot through with the occasional burst of sudden, savage wildness.
But it was not to be. Rickon sighed, shook his head, and said, "Later."
Robb didn't know what to do, so he bowed, said, "If that's what you want," and left, closing the door softly behind him.
He pretended that he couldn't hear Rickon closing the window shutters as he strode down the hall.
SO, here's the thing...my wife gave birth on Tuesday! Yay! On the plus side, she's fine, our brand new son is healthy and hearty, our two-and-a-half-year-old son is...mostly okay with it, the dog keeps giving me really judgmental looks, and I've rediscovered how bad formula smells, though not as bad as formula farts. Parenthood is super fun, you guys.
Now, you guys almost didn't get this today, but then my wife poked me and was all, "Hey, babe, it's Thursday, I just had a baby, we're finally home, and you said the next chapter was a Robb chapter." So, here you are! Because there's a minus side: I am, just, super tired. Hence, not a big AN today. At present, I'm, like, 90% sure I'll be able to maintain the current posting schedule until the end of the story, which will probably end up being three "books"/"parts." I have a pretty decent sized buffer, but if it looks like I'll have to slow down at some point, I promise to give you a heads up.
In the meantime...
Moving on! In Monday's episode, we check in on Arya. Stay tuned!
