A/N: SORRY FOR UPLOADING THE WRONG CHAPTER. I put an old Dream of Spring chapter up and even though I caught it immediately it took 5,000 years to update. Anyway.

Knock knock. Who's there? It's ROBB!

Also another chapter with a cliffhanger lol. To those of you who have been asking about Robb, here he finally makes a reappearance. I'm glad that the reveal of the assassins went over so well. I guess that means I did alright with the reveal. Whew. In any case, enjoy!

Chapter 21: The Third Name

The last time Robb had been to the capital, he was barely more than a baby, and he had no memory of the great city. The Red keep and the Great Sept of Baelor were certainly a marvel to look at. Yet the whole city had a dangerous atmosphere-an undercurrent of malice running beneath to beautiful buildings.

Robb did not trust this place. He had grown more suspicious over these past few years. How could he not? War drew out traitors like poison from a wound. Even his own friend had...

Robb shook his head. He could not think about Theon right now. He didn't want to think about him ever again. It was with his own blade that he executed his once best friend only a month ago. It would have been easier if Theon was unrepentant and boldly refused to kneel. But he didn't fight the sentence. He knew he had gone too far for redemption or mercy. He knelt on the ground and let Robb take his head without any fight.

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

If Robb could not trust his closest friend, it was even more difficult to trust an enemy. But the North needed peace. His son needed peace. And if they wanted lasting peace with the crown, he had no choice but to kneel before this rat of a king.

He remembered Joffrey from his visit to Winterfell. He had a smug face and the grin of a boy who had never been punished for a single one of his actions. Sansa had adored him instantly, and Robb worried for her. The prince was not kind. He could see that in an instant.

Sansa saw it now too. In fact, she knew it better than anyone. Her time in King's Landing had been such a trial for her. Before Robb left Winterfell, she had clasped her arm tightly and made him promise to be careful.

"Joffrey is a monster," she said. "And if he gets the chance, he will take your head."

"Tywin Lannister won't give him that chance," Robb said. "He is a man of his word. He can control the king."

But still, he was unsure. The Lord of Casterly Rock kept his word only as long as it suited him. If Tywin Lannister did decide that Robb was no longer useful to him, perhaps he would stand aside and let him die.

He found himself kissing his wife a little longer before he left, and holding their baby boy close. Little Eddard had been born two years ago, and he was healthy as ever. Talisa was days away from birthing their second child.

He did not want to leave them. He did not want to ride south.

"If they break their word," his mother promised before he left. "We will rain the seven hells upon them. Starks know how to survive the winter. They don't."

No. The Lannister's did not know the winter. Tywin had admitted that himself. He would avoid a conflict if he could. At least Robb hoped.

They passed through the God's Gate early that morning and made their way up toward the keep. At the stables, Robb and his men were met by an escort of guards. He already could feel the tension as he dismounted his horse.

"The king has prepared rooms for you all," the man at the front said. "You must be weary from travel. At noon, the king will hold court and receive you in the throne room. Until then, you may rest."

"You are most kind," Robb said. Already something seemed wrong. He would expect the Hand of the King to greet them, since this was such an important day. "We've ridden long and hard to meet with his grace."

The man inclined his head. "This way."

Fortunately, they were not immediately led to dungeon cells. That was a good start. They were given rooms in the keep. But still, Robb felt the danger. He would likely not feel calm until he left this city. His instincts told him to flee.

He wished, in that moment, that he had brought Greywind. But he worried the Lannister's would take that as a threat. When Robb was agitated, Greywind had a tendency to growl and snap. He would rather Greywind stay behind to protect Winterfell. Even if he died, his wolf would remain.

More than anything, he hoped to see Arya. She would be able to tell him if something was amiss. And of course, he wanted to make sure she was being treated well.

Then, att the door to his quarters, he heard his guards talking to someone. "What is your business with Lord Stark?"

"I'm his sister, idiots. Let me through."

Robb couldn't help but smile. Of course she would find him. He turned to see her standing in the door, her expression somewhere between happiness and anxiety. She had grown a few inches since he last saw her, and her hair hung to her shoulders. In her blue and gold dress, she looked like a proper lady. How she must hate that.

"Arya," Robb murmured. "It's good to see you."

Arya launched herself forward. He caught her up in a hug. This was still Arya. She was still alive and whole, and the Lannisters had not carved away her fighting spirit.

"It feels like a lifetime since we've seen each other," Robb murmured, setting her back on the ground. "You're beginning to grow up Arya."

"Not up. Just older," she replied.

"No, I'm quite sure you're taller than I last saw you." Robb rested his hands on her shoulders. "Are you well?" He felt a bandage beneath her dress, at the shoulder. "What's this?"

"That's nothing," Arya said. "There was an incident...But it wasn't the Lannisters that time."

"That time?" Robb asked. "Was there another time when it was?"

"There was a situation with Joffrey," Arya said. "It doesn't matter. It was over a year ago. I'm all right. You should be worried about yourself."

"I'm not the one who's a hostage," Robb said.

"I'm safe enough. You're not." Arya gripped his arm. "Listen...Robb. Two days ago, someone tried to assassinate Lord Tywin."

He blinked. "Tried?"

"He's still alive as of this morning. But he won't be in the throne room today when Joffrey receives you. Do you understand what that means?"

Robb's jaw clenched. "That Lord Tywin chose a poor time to almost die?"

"Someone chose, at least." Arya looked up at him. "I think Joffrey was behind the attempt. I don't have time to tell the whole story now, and I can't stay or they might think I know something. But Joffrey is hungry for blood. And war."

"Do you think he'll execute me at court?" Robb asked.

"No. But he might throw you in a black cell and sentence you to death." She looked up at him, a fierceness in her grey eyes. "Don't worry. I'll handle it. You will be fine Robb."

Robb shook his head. Arya had watched their father die over two years ago. She had suffered so much. But if Joffrey tried to kill him, she wouldn't be able to do anything. "How will you handle it, Arya?"

"Just trust me," Arya squeezed his hand. "I have to go."

Then, without another word, she swept from the room.

Robb's hand was shaking as he rested it against his sword. He longed for the ice cold northern winds. He longed for home. But he had come south to the wolf trap where his father had been ensnared. And there was no turning back now.

If it came to a fight, he would die with a sword in his hand.

Arya kept waiting for an announcement of the king's death. She spent the whole morning listening for the bells. Listening for cries in the halls. Listening for chaos. She heard none of it.

Please Jaqen, she thought. Please be quick.

Anxiety made it impossible for her to eat. Shae tried to force food upon her but she turned it all down.

"Your brother is here," Shae said. "Be happy. Eat."

"My brother could die here like my father," Arya muttered. "I don't think I will eat until he leaves alive."

"How will starving yourself help him?" Shae asked.

It wouldn't. But still, Arya could not stomach food.

Just before noon, Arya made her way to the throne room as fast as her feet would carry her. She found a place with a clear view of the throne, where Joffrey was already seated, looking particularly smug. He was still alive. Alive and vicious. His malicious green eyes trained on Robb.

Her brother stood in the center of the court, surrounded by his men. But his men would not be enough to defend him against the King's Guard or the Lannister men stationed around the throne room. There were more than usual. Arya could see it. Amongst the many nobles who had crowded inside, just as many soldiers stood, all with swords.

She was suddenly conscious of the knife up her sleeve, the metal resting against her forearm. If Jaqen did not intervene, would she have to use it?

You would die for it, a small voice inside of her said.

If I die killing Joffrey, so be it, Arya thought. They will sing songs about this day.

"You stand in the presence of King Joffrey Baratheon. First of his name. Protector of the realm!"

Robb did indeed stand before him-before the iron throne. But he did not for a second look weak. He held Joffrey's gaze and stood his ground with the pride of a wolf. In truth, he looked more a king than the boy sitting on the throne.

If he was afraid, he did not show it for a moment.

"Lord Stark," Joffrey called out. "It has been some time since we last saw each other."

"It has, your Grace," Robb said. Arya knew the title must have taste it like poison, but he said it all the same. Her brother was better at hiding his hate than she was. "We've both been fighting wars."

"Yes. I suppose your rebellion did qualify as a war," Joffrey said. "But it's over now, isn't it? Time for you to kneel before your king."

Robb held his gaze for a pause. Then, he slowly bent the knee. Arya hated to watch it. She hated that her brother had to kneel at all. In the back of her mind, she blamed herself for that. If only Lord Tywin had not captured her. Then maybe he would not have had to surrender.

"I do on this day proclaim that Joffrey Baratheon is the one true king of Westeros," Robb said. "The seven kingdoms, including the north, belong to him. My sword belongs to the realm and he is the protector of the realm. I vow to serve loyally from this day until my last day."

Murmurs swept through the crowd. Arya dug her nails into her palms as she looked from Robb to Joffrey.

"What a relief to hear you say so." Joffrey stood from his throne, perhaps in effort to make himself even taller. "A shame that you did not ride south earlier when your father turned traitor. Instead you...raised your banners against me. Tried to rob me of the North." He tilted his head to the side. "Does simply kneeling forgive that?"

"I do not simply kneel," Robb said. "I crushed a different rebellion for you. The Greyjoys are dead."

"You both rebelled," Joffrey said. "So why do we crush them but let the Starks stand tall. That doesn't make sense does it?"

"I suppose that is up to you. Your Grace." Robb added the title almost as an afterthought as he looked up at Joffrey. There was no fear in his eyes, but Arya feared for him. She feared for him very much.

"And then...how do I know your words are true?" Joffrey asked, pacing back and forth in front of the throne. "In just this past month, two attempts have been made on the lives of my family. Someone tried to kill my brother. Someone tried to kill my grandfather. We have evidence to suggest that the culprit is from the north."

Liar, Arya wanted to snarl. You're a liar and a coward. Just like that day by the river. I should have run you through then.

"If there has been any plot against your family, I had nothing to do with it," Robb said. "I keep my word."

"Do you?" Joffrey asked. "Like your traitor father?"

Rage seemed to roll through Robb's shoulders and silver fire blazed in his eyes. But he did not rise to the bait. He just stared. His gaze seemed to unsettled Joffrey and the boy glanced around.

"Well. I suppose we will get to the truth of it."

The guards in the crowd shifted. Began to surge forward. Arya reached up her sleeve and grasped her knife.

But just then, the king coughed and swayed. His next order got caught in his throat and everything stilled. He coughed again, trying to get the words out. But none came. Instead, a trail of red seeped from his nose.

"Joffrey," Cersei stood from her seat beside the throne and moved toward her son, resting a hand on his arm. He waved her off, stumbling backwards. But he slipped and collapsed back into his chair. One of the blades impaled him through the shoulder. His whole body trembled. In that moment, everyone understood.

The king was dying.

Arya would remember the next few moments for the rest of her life, nearly as clearly as the day of her father's execution. As Joffrey coughed and twitched and bled on the throne, the King's Guard rushed to his side. Robb took a step back and his guards closed in around him on instinct. The nobles screamed and murmured.

And as Arya looked out among them, she saw Jaqen, standing in the midst of the crowd, looking right at her. He raised his finger and tapped just under his eye.

Cut it very close, didn't you? Arya thought.

Slowly she looked back to Joffrey, still writhing on his throne, blood streaming from his nose and mouth and eyes. Arya could not quite describe how powerful she felt then. Watching the life leave the wretched boy. Watching him bleed.

Over two years ago he had asked for her father's head. And by speaking his name, Arya had reaped vengeance upon him.

How sweet it tasted.

A few seconds later, the moment ended, and Joffrey went still on the throne. Cersei fell to her knees beside him, her face twisted with grief. It was amazing to Arya...that anyone could love such a monster. But still she felt the grim satisfaction of victory.

This is how it feels, Cersei. When someone rips away something you love. Does it hurt? Do you understand?

But the satisfaction vanished as Cersei looked up at her brother.

"Your people planned this," she hissed. "You did this."

Robb straightened. "No. We didn't. We only just arrived in the capital. How could we have done anything to the king?"

"Liars. You did. This is your doing," Cersei screeched. "Guards. Arrest them at once. They plotted to kill the king. Arrest them."

No, Arya thought. They didn't. It wasn't them.

But she could not say a word.

Joffrey Baratheon was dead. Arya's third name.

But Robb was still in danger.

A/N: On one hand, Joffrey is dead. On the other...the north looks more than a little guilty. Whoops. Hopefully Tywin wakes up soon to fix this situation.

It must be very stressful to read this story. I keep on hitting you with awful cliffhangers. I promise they'll slow down soon to give you a break :) Be sure to review, subscribe etc. and I'll see you next time!