I needed a new POV character for the few remaining chapters, since I don't want everything to be seen from Arya's perspective and Ned is kind of busy fighting off Wildlings right now. I didn't want to use Gendry because let's face it, he's clueless :) I couldn't justify Sansa being part of some of the scenes I intend to write, and I just couldn't write Catelyn if my life depended on it. So I went with Robb. We're getting closer to the end now, only 3 or 4 more chapters to go.
ROBB
As far as battles went, this one had been rather easy, he conceded as he sat down in the big uncomfortable seat and took a moment to compose himself before facing what came next.
He let his eyes wander around the great room, remembering how powerful his father had always looked when he'd sat in this very chair listening to his people's requests. It was his turn now, and he wasn't as anxious as he once would have been. He had successfully led men into battle, he had held his ground discussing strategies with the intimidating man who was now king, he had known when to listen to his advisors and when to impose his own decisions, he had become a man. He knew he could do this, even if he was going to miss his father's counsel.
It felt good to be home.
But retaking Winterfell had only been the beginning, and he was starting to believe that the end would never come. There were many things to be done before he could send word to his father and brother that the Starks once more ruled in the North.
Theon's fate would be easy to decide. Although if asked, he would say a quick death was too merciful, he also wanted the matter settled as soon as possible, and he would wield the sword himself with great satisfaction.
Most of the traitor's men would meet the same end. Those who had been cruel to the northern people, those who had helped Theon hunt down Bran and Rickon, those who had raided the farms around the castle.
A few would be kept alive and stay as prisoners, either because the people of Winterfell would vouch for them, assuring him that they had been kind to them despite their leader's commands, or because they would be more valuable alive than dead. Some of them were sons to House Greyjoy's bannermen, keeping them here would prevent something like this from ever happening again. He wouldn't make the mistake of trusting them like he had trusted his father's ward.
Once he had dealt with his enemies, he would need to deal with his allies.
He didn't know how much his father knew of the situation. King Stannis had told him that he would send a message to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and tell him about seizing King's Landing and about Jaime Lannister being on his way to take the Black. Robb hoped his father had gotten the message and taken steps to protect Arya and Gendry. But even if he had, the sooner Arya was safely returned to Winterfell with the boy who kept the truce strong even if he didn't know anything about it, the better. When his host had reached the crossroad with one turn leading to Winterfell and another leading to the Wall, he had sent fifty of his guards north to get his sister and Robert's son. He would worry about what came next for them once they were here.
Now that the realm was at peace, he also needed to appease Lord Frey. The old man wasn't too happy about him breaking his betrothal to his daughter.
Then there was Sansa. He had lost count of the number of men who had asked for her hand in marriage, but after the way her last betrothal had turned out, he was loath to put her through this again. Still, he may not have a choice; he couldn't keep turning down perfectly acceptable suitors with no good reason, unless he wanted to anger half his bannermen.
Winterfell itself was a concern as well. The castle was practically crumbling. If he asked, the king would allow him to keep some of his men here to help with the repairs, but he would also need to hire skilled workers. Builders, blacksmiths, carpenters, and cooks to feed all those hungry mouths.
And most of all, he had to find Bran and Rickon. The messenger who had gone back and forth between his camp and the Wall over the last two years had told him everything his father knew: while Theon had claimed that they were dead, Eddard Stark knew that they had survived, thanks to Hodor and Osha. As soon as the castle had fallen under his control, he'd gone to the crypt, but he had found the place empty, just like he'd expected. This hiding spot was viable for a few weeks at the most. The wildling woman had probably figured they could stay there until the search died down, and then she had led them out of the castle. The question was where were they now? Were they even alive? Even if Theon hadn't succeeded in killing them, there were many things that could go wrong when one single person had to take care of a small child, a cripple, and a halfwit on the run. What gave him hope was the fact that Shaggydog and Summer were with them, and direwolves were valuable protectors, to say the least.
There was not much he could do but send word, and even that would be difficult since Theon had had all the ravens killed. He would need to send a rider to King's Landing, informing Stannis and Renly of his victory and asking them to spread the word to the whole realm. If they were still out there, Bran and Rickon would eventually hear that they could safely come back home.
"Robb."
He sighed inwardly but didn't let his annoyance show. He should already be grateful for these few minutes of silence, given that the fate of dozens of people depended on his next decisions.
"Mother."
"The Stark's banner," she simply said.
She was right. It was the first thing he should have done. He nodded his agreement to Maester Luwin. The old man left the room to relay the order, and for the first time in two years, the direwolf head could be seen floating above Winterfell.
ARYA
Fortunately, fifty men and their horses made a lot of noise. This was good, since they were on a part of their journey where they couldn't avoid the main road, and if they hadn't heard them coming, they would have found themselves face-to-face with Jaime Lannister. As it was, they had been able to turn back and gallop to a place where they could stay hidden in the forest until the Kingslayer and his men where far behind them and it was safe for them to resume their ride towards Winterfell.
"How long do you think we should stay here?" she asked, already tired of doing nothing.
"It will be dark soon. We could stay for the night."
"There's at least one hour of daylight left."
"But we can't be sure they're gone. It would be safer to wait."
She hated him for being right.
"Fine."
He frowned at how chilly her voice sounded.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
She started taking down the bags of food from her saddle, knowing her silence was proof enough that she was upset, but hoping he would leave it at that. He didn't, of course.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No."
She stayed quiet as he helped her get their dinner ready and make camp for the night. They had been on the road for a little over a week, it was the first time they'd stopped so early in the day, and she didn't like it. She hated feeling like she couldn't do anything but wait. She wanted to jump ahead, right to the moment where they would be safe in Winterfell and she would be with her brother, mother and sister.
"You've been quiet all day."
She acknowledged his observation with a short nod, but still didn't speak.
"Is this about this morning?"
"No." She paused, reconsidered, and admitted, "Well, that probably didn't help."
He sighed. They hadn't talked about their kiss after that first night on the road, but as they were getting ready to leave today, she had tried to kiss him again. To say his rebuff had annoyed her would be an understatement. But this wasn't why she was upset right now. She could understand his reasoning. She could even agree with part of it. She certainly did not agree with the ridiculous idea that it would be improper, but she had admitted that they couldn't risk being distracted when they were supposed to keep alert every single moment. While she still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this shift in their relationship, she did know that she wouldn't let him pull away from her just because he thought he had no right to want her like that. If he was good enough to be her friend, he was good enough to be... actually, that part was a bit of a mystery, and she'd decided not to dwell on it. What wasn't a mystery was the way she'd felt when she'd realized how deep his feelings ran. Scared and elated. And anything that made her feel this way could only be a good thing. Still, he was adamant nothing more could happen and she had agreed with him, if only temporarily.
But this morning, Arya had wanted to forget for a while, and instead of letting her, he had been all practical. In his defense, he hadn't known that she needed comforting.
"What is it then?"
"It's stupid."
"Tell me."
She looked at him to try and determine if he was ordering or asking. Seeing him open and patient instead of stubborn and irritated, she complied.
"I had a nightmare last night."
He didn't tell her it was stupid to be upset because of a dream. He didn't laugh at her for being so fearless in the face of real danger, and so unsettled by her own imagination. He didn't ask any questions. And that's what made her want to talk.
"My father. I dreamt he was killed in a raid against the Wildlings."
He could have told her that it was just a nightmare, and only natural given that her father was marching against powerful enemies. He didn't say any of that.
"We'll ask for news as soon as we reach Winterfell."
She nodded, grateful for the lack of criticism. Seeing she was still troubled, he suddenly asked, "Did you know I met your father before I met you?"
Startled, she just gaped at him, too stunned to think of anything to say.
"It's true. He came to the forge where I worked in King's Landing."
"To the..."
Her voice trailed off. Oblivious to the extent of her astonishment, he continued, "He wanted to buy my helm, but I snatched it out of his hands. I swear, I thought my master was going to kill me right there," he laughed at the memory. "Anyway, Lord Eddard asked me about my mother. And believe me, Arya, what I saw when I told him that she died when I was little was the face of a man who would do anything to stay alive for his family for as long as possible. You shouldn't worry about him."
"You met my father back in King's Landing."
Her voice was devoid of emotion, like it always was when she simply could not believe something. He frowned, surprised by her excessive reaction to what he probably considered harmless information. She knew she was somehow missing the point of his story. Something about her father staying alive. But the nightmare was forgotten, as were her worries for now. She let herself fall more than she sat down, not caring that he was now looking very concerned. He knelt down in front of her and gently lifted her chin to make her look at him. She did, but didn't give him enough time to ask questions. She had enough of her own.
"And he asked about your mother?" When he nodded uncertainly, she asked, "Why? What kind of questions?"
"The same kind Jon Arryn had asked."
"What?"
"The Hand of the..."
"I know who Jon Arryn was!"
He frowned again, and she tried to calm down. They weren't going anywhere like this. So she took a deep, relaxing breath and tried again.
"Tell me everything."
He did. About how Jon Arryn had come to visit him, had asked him about his mother, and about his work as an apprentice. About how the man had been so kind that he had been sad to hear of his passing only a few weeks later. About how Eddard Stark had come a couple of months after that and had asked the same questions. And when he was done, she asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
He looked confused.
"I didn't think it was important."
It was. Because suddenly her silly little theory wasn't so silly anymore. This was what she had been missing from the beginning, the piece of information that made everything else make sense. If Jon Arryn had known three years ago that prince Joffrey was Jaime Lannister's bastard, which was now well-known throughout the realm, and if he had sought Gendry out... Maybe the Hand's death hadn't been as natural as everyone had thought. The echo of a conversation long forgotten came back to her. "If one Hand can die, why not a second?... Lord Stark's the one who troubles my sleep. He has the bastard, he has the book, and soon enough he'll have the truth."
By the Gods! How had she not understood back then? She had been admittedly young, and terrified, and lost in the dungeons, and she'd had absolutely no idea what the two men were talking about, and by the time she'd gotten back to her father, she had forgotten most of what she had heard, the reality of those sentences meddling with the fears of a young girl who had spent a night running away from dragon's skulls... But still, it seemed so obvious now. She felt like kicking herself for not coming to this realization sooner, and for doubting her own reasoning after the warhammer incident.
"Arya? Are you all right?"
She gestured for him to leave her to her thoughts for just a little longer, and though the concern was still clearly written all over his face, he complied.
Think, Arya. Just get over the shock and think about what really matters: what do you do now?
Later, she would need some time to analyze the role her father had probably forced on a clueless Gendry in the war for the Iron Throne.
The real question right now was what did she tell her friend? Did she even tell him anything?
The answer was obvious as soon as she looked into his eyes. She had not kept anything from him from the moment he had found out that she was a highborn girl, she was not going to start now, and certainly not with something so important. She would have killed anyone who tried to hide something like this from her.
"Sit down."
He did.
"Did you ever meet King Robert?"
The question seemed to surprise him.
"Why would I have met the King?"
She considered talking in riddles for a while, to try and get him to see the truth for himself, but that wasn't like her. Quick and efficient was always her way.
"Because you're his son."
TBC...
