Robb

Robb sat in his solar with his uncle Edmure in silence. Everything had suddenly changed and there seemed to be no perceived way out of the situation except to go to Littlefinger and ask what he wanted. All Robb knew was that Lord Eddard was dead and Littlefinger was aspiring to the Iron Throne. His mother warned him, "Do not deal with him. Do not trust him. Your father trusted him, and look what happened."

Then Dacey knocked at the door.

Edmure opened it and she took a step inside, "Your Grace, there are two messengers here. One from Lord Renly, one from Lord Stannis." Robb looked to Edmure and they shared a knowing look. Whichever Robb went with meant the other would be scorned. If he could not manage a deal with Stannis, one would not form with Renly and vice versa. Renly seemed like he would not deal. He was perhaps offering Robb Stark the same deal as before. But they had not spoken with Stannis yet…

"Dismiss Lord Renly's messenger." Robb buckled his sword belt and followed Dacey out of the room. There in front of the two messengers, Robb found Ser Guyard dressed all in green waiting beside the Onion Knight. Robb nodded to Ser Davos before saying, "Give my regards to Lord Renly. I would be willing to speak to him when I am done with Lord Stannis." Ser Guyard stormed away after a silent huff. That should go over well.

Ser Davos said little after he began, "You've done quite well, Your Grace."

"I'm not your King yet, Ser Davos."

"But if you are, I don't think that would be such a bad thing."

Robb wasn't sure how to take that. He couldn't imagine sitting the Iron Throne and ruling like a southerner. They'd berate him for bringing his Northern customs to court. And if he even so much as looked in Arianne Martell's direction again, too many memories of the Blackfyres would come rushing back to those very same lords.

"Here we are, Your Grace," Ser Davos opened the door. Robb looked around the room and saw King Stannis sitting behind a desk with a map of Westeros on it. The room lacked any fineries or anything not directly useful. Robb automatically assumed the pitcher on the desk was filled with water.

"King Stannis."

"Robb Stark, I mean to discuss with you this debauchery we have found ourselves in."

"You mean the Kingsmoot."

"I do," Stannis confirmed Robb's suspicions when he poured two goblets of water, "I like to presume we understand each other. We fought together at the Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte. Together we threw back Mance Rayder."

Robb drank from his goblet, "I do think we understand each other."

"Then why do you still vie for my Throne?"

Robb looked away for a moment and thought, "Honor," he said, "My Lords, from Last Hearth to Riverrun have named me King. And I owe them the opportunity to rule themselves independently of southron rule. To give up, to simply kneel to a new southron overlord… what honor is there in that decision?"

"More than you think." Stannis Baratheon appeared as if he was going to draw that shiny sword at his hip, but he drew instead a roll of parchment and held it out for Robb Stark to read. The seal was broken, but Robb made it out plain as day: the direwolf of Stark.

To His Grace, Stannis of the House Baratheon,

By the time you receive this letter, your brother Robert, our king these past fifteen years will be dead. He was savaged by a boar whilst hunting in the kingswood…

The words twisted and turned until they simply declared that Joffrey and Tommen were base born sons of incest between Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime. That makes the Lannisters usurpers and Lord Stannis the rightful King on the Iron Throne. It was all information Robb already understood, except for the script and the name scrawled at the bottom.

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Hand of the King, and Protector of the Realm

Robb couldn't help but feel like he was holding a piece of his father in his hands. It may have been the last thing he wrote, just before Littlefinger betrayed him and Joffrey cut his head off. Robb held the parchment tightly and wanted to find a heart tree, to pray to the Old Gods to send a message, I killed him, Father, I killed Joffrey the Illborn. I avenged your death and I did it myself. I know what death is.

"As you can see, Robb Stark," Stannis said, "your father supported my claim. The honor in your title is contrived, shouted into your ear by the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark. Shout all you want, you can shout to the wind and declare yourself a tree, but truth doesn't rely on volume any more than a blacksmith relies on a brothel."

Robb put the sheet on the desk and wandered over to the window. The sun was setting over the Riverlands.

"If Lord Eddard was alive, he would have told you to declare for me. Now what do you say, Robb Stark?"

Robb had no desire to sit the Iron Throne. A chair in the south that cut you when you tried to sit in it, why? Why bother? He turned to King Stannis and began, "I've been conversing with House Martell. They promised to swing the West and Dorne in my favor if I grant Dornish internal autonomy. Lord Renly offered the same for the North if I swung him my support. I demanded the same internal autonomy be extended to the Riverlands since they already declared me King of the Trident in order to sway my supporters in his favor. Lord Renly would not grant me that border. If you consent, King Stannis, to the internal autonomy of the North, the Riverlands, and Dorne, I can assure you their vote."

Stannis looked like he was about to burst with wildfire, "You have been conspiring with Dorne and the Imp?"

"Conversing. Nothing has been set in stone. I never personally spoke to Lord Ty…"

"I am your King by rights. You besmirch everything your father and his house stood for when you conspire against me and make demands like the usurper you are."

"It is not a demand."

"It is! You presume to come here at my own summons and tell me what for. How dare you. I am the Lord's chosen one, and the rightful King of Westeros. Does law mean nothing to a man of honor such as this?"

"If you offer me the internal autonomy of the North, I cannot do you anything. If you offer me the internal autonomy of the North and the Riverlands, I can only grant you those. If you offer me Dorne as well, I can gather you the most support."

"To win the Throne and lose the Kingdoms? What kind of honor is it, in the North, to ask a man, to ask a King, to sell his own?"

"I can only offer you what I have."

"You disappoint me, Robb Stark. I will remember this treachery. When I am your crowned liege lord, you will rue the day you made demands of your King." Stannis marched out from the desk and threw open the door, "Ser Davos, see the Lord of Winterfell out."

Robb left the room thankfully behind and passed the red woman going in the opposite direction. The red jewel at her throat pulsed like an evil heartbeat. Stannis Baratheon stood the worst chance of winning the Kingsmoot. But if that was so, why did Robb feel so uneasy about this whole thing?