Chapter 34: The King of the North.
The next morning, Ylliria comes down to have her breakfast, her eyes still swollen from her tearfulness. She discovers Belinda and Emma whimpering. "Oh, My Lady." Belinda says between two sobs. "This is a tragedy. We all loved the Lord so much."
"I know, Belinda. But, as grievous and distressing this is..." Ylliria squeezing her hands together, trying to hide them from shaking. "... And how much we cry and mourn, I will ask you to pull yourself together and show no tears in front of the little Lords. If you are not able to do it, please have the courtesy to leave the room and hide to cry." She says with the firmest tone she could manage.
"Yes, My Lady." The two maids softly answer.
"My Lady?" Maester Luwin calls, entering the kitchens. "May I have a word with you, in private." He asks. She follows him in a corner of the Grand Hall. "Don't be too hard on the household and on yourself, My Lady. We are all very affected by Lord Stark's death."
She slowly nods.
"And I would advise, to give the day off to most of them and only keep the once strictly necessary, for all of them to begin their mourning."
She nods again.
"No council either. Let us use this day for prayers and silence in respect to the late Lord."
"Agreed. But, at tomorrow's council, I'd like to make an announcement. I'd request all men, young and old, from Winterfell to have swords training at least two times a week. The Harvests are done and I want them to be prepared for all contingencies."
"My Lady, we have the guards for that." He softly protests.
"In a small number since most of them have followed Robb's host. Therefore, my decision. I've already discussed this with Bran and he supports this idea. Some of our people are really scared and I think that giving them a few battles tricks will maybe appease them more than all the guards around the Castle."
"Has you wish, My Lady."
"I was wondering, Maester. What about Sansa and Arya, now the Lord Stark is no more? Will they come back to us?"
"I'm afraid not, My Lady. I suppose Queen Cercei will keep them as hostages to have a threat against Lord Robb."
"That is awful! There are only girls!" She frowns, her gaze going down.
"I'm sure they will be treated with all the honors their rank demands, My Lady."
She nods once again.
"My Lady." He sighs, putting a gentle hand on her arm. "I'm begging you to spare yourself. Those last weeks you did more than it was expected from you. You cannot continue at this rhythm. I see you here in front of me so pale and fragile. It's worries me grandly."
"I'm fine, Maester. And I'm touched by your concerns." She smiles.
"Let me at least give you this tonic potion." He hands her a little bottle with a yellow-orange contains. "A few drops in your water every morning. Promise me you'll take it."
"I promise you, Maester. Thank you." She accepts the phial.
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The Northern Lords are sitting around the long table in Robb's tent, trying to agree on the next moves they would make. Some of them wants to march on Harrenhal, convinced that Lord Tywin and his army will regroup there and by that, end Lannister's power once and for all.
Lord Reed youngest son, Marq, urges to strike west at Casterly Rock, the Lannister's stronghold.
Another Lord proposes to regroup at Riverrun, laying across Lannister's supplies lines, and so cutting Lord Tywin's army from their provisions.
Robb stays silent, patiently listen to all the options and already pondering the pros and the cons of each of them.
"The proper course is drawn, My Lords. Pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his." Lord Glover proposes as his turn has come.
"Renly is not the King." Robb bristly answers.
"You cannot mean to hold for Joffrey, My Lord? He put your father to death."
"That still doesn't make Renly a King. He is Robert's younger brother. Bran cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me. And so Renly cannot be King before Stannis."
"Do you mean to declare yourself for Stannis?"
"Renly is not right!" One of the Lords yells from the back of the assembly.
"Renly is already crowned." Lord Glover insists. "A large part of the Stormlands and the Dorne Lords have already signed treaties of alliance with him. If we add our strengths to his, withing the year, we will have all the Lannister's heads on pikes. All of them!"
"Why not sue for peace?" Lady Stark softly says.
All the Lords look at her, but it was her own son's eyes she felt the most. "My dear mother, they murdered father, your husband! How could you possibly think..." He raises from his chair, unsheathes his sword and lays it on the table in front of him. "This is the only peace I will have for the Lannisters!"
"That won't make your father return, Robb."
"My Lady, with all do respect, women have often a hard time to understand certain ways men are doing things." Lord Umber gently intervenes. "A man has a need for vengeance."
"Robb." She turns to face him. "I will mourn your father for the rest of my days. But I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the Queen holds them still. We have something Cercei wants and she has something we want. Think of it." She pauses. "I want you safe, my son, ruling at Winterfell. I want you to live your life, marry a woman you love and father as much children as you like." She looks at the other Lords. "I want to go home, my Lords, and weep for my husband." The hall stayed very quiet for a long moment.
"Peace is sweet, My Lady." Lord Tallhart softly says. "But on what terms? And we know the Lannisters will strike again, as soon as we're all safe back on our lands. They are restless and revanchist and rich. Understand we cannot take that risk, My Lady."
"Why did my two sons die for, if I am to return to my Castle with nothing but their bones?" Lord Karstark sadly points.
"Aye!" Some others agree. "We all have losses and plundering to be counted by the Lannisters sell-swords. So, what of it?" One voice comes from their left side.
"Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my King." Lord Flint declares.
"Nor I!" Lord Karstark yells. And a mix of shouts and yells starts across the table.
"MY LORDS!" Lord Umber shouts, suddenly jumping out of his seat. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spits on the ground, making some of them laugh. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall? Or the Wolf's Wood? Even their Gods are wrong!" This time all are laughing. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bow to and now the Dragons are dead." He takes out his long-sword from its scabbard. "There!" He roars. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to." He points at Robb. "THE KING OF THE NORTH!" He kneels in front of the young man. Robb slowly raises from his chair, ready to put Lord Umber back on his feet and tell him to stop his non-sense. But...
"I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle." Lord Karstark comes forward.
"And their iron chair too." Lord Reed says, putting his swords down on Robb's feet. "The King of the North!"
"Am I your brother? Now and always?" Theon asks.
"Now and always." Robb answers.
Greyjoy grabs his swords and lays it at his feet too. "My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, from this day till my last day."
"THE KING OF THE NORTH!" All the Lords are repeating in unison, kneeling and putting their swords down.
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Ylliria watches the Captain of the Guards giving the common men of Winterfell their first swords and bows lessons. Grunts, curses and whistling arrows are echoing around the courtyard.
"No, not like this. Like this." The Captain keeps saying, showing them the moves once again.
"They don't fight very well." Bran, sitting next to her, giggles.
"Give them some time, Sweetheart. We don't want them to become soldiers, just knowing how to protect themselves." Ylliria explains.
"You fear the war could come to us? Here in the North?"
"You never know, Bran. But, we must be prepared, even if at the end it was not necessary. Pray the Gods, it won't."
"You fight like a goose!" The Captain suddenly yells on one of the me younger men.
"Captain! I know you like your craft, but don't be too hard on them. Just teach them a few moves." Ylliria calls him.
"Yes, My Lady. My pardons." He smiles at her and turns back to the young lad. "If those were real swords, the first peck would have taken your arm right off. Here, you need to block the blow by crossing it the other way."
"I wish I could be with them." Bran softly whispers.
"I know you would. But, you're Lord Winterfell now. You need to provide safety to your people and find any means to reach that goal. And let me tell you something." She leans over to him. "You are doing very well, My Sweet Little Lord." She puts an arm around his shoulder and squeezes him close to her.
"It's you that is doing the most." The young boy retorts.
"Not true. If you weren't here with me and Rickon and Maester Luwin, I wouldn't have the strength to do it." She kneels in front of him, taking his head between her hands. "Never forget, My Lord, you are my vigor. You are my power and my will. And I'm not doing it only for Robb... I'm doing it for all of you. I'm nothing without you all."
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