Hello Loyal Readers! Yes I know it has been a long time so here is answer to all your questions:
NO! This story is not abandoned! I am still working on it as much as I can, but writer's block and real life gets in the way.
But here is the latest update and I hope you enjoy. Do leave a review if you do.
King's Landing was not Westeros, even if most of the country had managed to temporarily congregate in the capital. The North remained buried under frost and snow as the Iron Throne struggled to reach them.
No one felt this isolation from the Crown more acutely than the only remaining Stark in Winterfell; Lady Catelyn, The King's Mother.
As King Robb's mother, Catelyn was the face for her royal son in the North. The face to which the Northmen delivered both their reverence and their complaints. Catelyn knew, or rather hoped, that Robb would not sit idle in the south whilst his home suffered. It was that belief in her eldest that kept her resolute in maintaining order in Winterfell.
Thousands of Northmen had flocked to the ancient granite castle when the snows had given them a brief respite. A small, makeshift city had risen around and within Winterfell's walls, creating a Northern capital unlike any seen in history.
They awaited word from their king, they sought hope from their liege lords and shelter in their castle. And yet in the face of the greatest threat the world had faced in thousands of years, tensions were running high amongst those who should have been united.
"I'll be damned if I hear lip like that from a fookin' Hornwood!" Lord Cley Cerwyn blustered, slamming his fists upon the dark wood of the feast table to stand and glare loathing at the man across him.
"The Cerwyns bent the knee before, I shall show you how." Lord Daryn Hornwood hissed, standing in response to place a three-fingered hand on the hilt of a dagger in his belt. In the great hall of Winterfell, lines were quickly drawn as Northmen took to support one young lord or the other.
The shouting grew louder, the shoving began, and steel would have been drawn were it not for the timely arrival of the Lady Regent of Winterfell.
Lady Catelyn had taken to wearing a heavy grey wolf's fur cloak, the collar of which was clasped together by a shining silver direwolf clasp. Through necessity rather than desire she was embodying more and more the nature of the Starks. It was only through what she had learned from her time in the North was she able to bring silence into her hall with only a single, sharp look.
The Northern lords and their warriors had snapped to attention, bowing their heads in shame as Catelyn stood in the archway. The sound of her steps echoed as she approached the two young lords who were no older than Robb himself. These were boys who had fought beside her son, bled for him, sacrificed for him, raised their swords to the skies and pledged their fealty to him; boys who had not grown from their time at war as their King had done.
"I need not remind you both that you are in Winterfell. I need not remind you both that you have sworn your allegiance not just to the lords of this castle, but to the name of House Stark. I need not say that you are acting like boys," Catelyn spat, that single word stinging the two lords enough to make them flinch "at a time when your people and your King needs you to be men, to be lords worthy of the name."
"I apologize, my lady. The fault was mine." Cley Cerwyn said in an abashed tone, his cheeks red with shame as he avoided her gaze.
"Aye, the fault was his. But I too apologize, Lady Stark." Daryn Hornwood's tone was stiff, and his eyes more resentful than she would have liked. She debated reprimanding the Lord of Hornwood further, but settled on one simple statement.
"I will say this only once. To all of you." She said, turning her back to Daryn and Cley to face the rest of the Northmen, her voice rising as Ned had taught her almost twenty years ago.
"You have all known me for as long as any of us can remember. I am the mother of your King. I am the widow of your liege. I am the Lady of Winterfell." She held the gazes of a few particularly troublesome lords until they bowed their heads in acquiescence. She turned on her heel to glare coldly at Cley and Daryn.
"This will be the last disturbance I tolerate in Winterfell. Perhaps you and your men will learn to work together by relieving the Manderly troops on our walls and perimeter." Catelyn said, her intent quite clear as both men looked up sharply. It was Cley who opened his mouth.
"…My-…my lady?"
"You heard me, Lord Cerwyn. Your men and the Hornwood men shall share the burden of guard duty until I say otherwise. And you and Lord Hornwood will command our outriders. Together." She gave both men one last cold look before turning on her heel to march out of the hall, leaving whispering in her wake.
Maester Luwin hurried after her, his hands hidden in his sleeves for warmth.
"If I may say, Lady Stark, that was beautifully handled. With hope, the two might become comrades in arms yet again."
"Thank you, Luwin. But I tire of mothering these lords and warriors. Have Ser Rodrik join them to keep an eye on things. Have we any word from Robb yet?" Catelyn asked, the hardness dropping from her voice as she and Luwin entered Ned's solar. Not since her husband left for his fateful trip to be Robert Baratheon's Hand had this room been changed in any way. Robb could not bring himself to do so in the brief time he was Lord of Winterfell, Bran had not returned to the castle in over a year, and Rickon was still a boy and only Brandon's heir.
Catelyn clutched her cloak tighter around her, despite the two roaring fireplaces. Her cold and discomfort was not eased by the regretful shake of the head she received from her Maester.
"We've only managed to receive two ravens since the storm subsided. Both from Lord Umber. We cannot know if any of the birds we have sent south even arrived. But I cannot believe that Robb is sitting in King's Landing without doing anything to get word from us or the Night's Watch."
"Have we any word from them?" Catelyn queried, looking up to him from her seat. Luwin sighed, pursing his lips to shake his head once more.
His belly rumbled with hunger so strong that he could not even be disgusted with himself that it was burning flesh that caused his mouth to water. Fifty bodies burned on a pyre so large that the plume of black smoke could be seen from Mole's Town.
Lord Commander Donal Noye stood stoic watching his fallen men burn alongside the fallen wildlings.
"So much for your treaty." Mance spat out in a bitter undertone from beside Donal. The two men stood in the shadow of the Wall.
"Piss off, Mance. Our supply lines from the Crown were operational until this fuckin' storm. There's probably wagons of food and weapons meant for us that are frozen solid on the road." Donal said, keeping his eyes fixed on the blistering dead skin of Walton Rivers, a Riverlands bastard who had been in the Watch as long as Donal himself.
"Aye, and what has your Crown done to remedy that, Noye? Days its been, weeks maybe since this happened. They've been picking us off like a fuckin' game night-by-night. How many have I lost? How many have you?" Mance challenged of the Lord Commander.
"We and the Wall are the last defence the Seven Kingdoms has against them. Jon Snow is Hand of the fuckin' King, I refuse to believe he would allow Robb Stark to abandon us. If the Wall falls, the North follows and I severely doubt a Northern king would abandon the land he was raised on."
"Doubt."Mance said, turning to look at Donal intently.
"What?" Donal asked, cocking his head in confusion.
"You said doubt. You aren't sure of it yourself, are you?" The King-Beyond-the-Wall's words were harsh and stern, his question rhetorical as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Donal to stew in his doubt.
"Judging from your condition with the twins, I would confidently say that you are with child. Though you might be pleased to know its only one this time around." Rickard japed as he hauled himself back onto his feet and dusted his hands from the spot where he had been crouching to examine Margaery who covered her exposed belly with a roll of her eyes and a good-natured smile of bemusement.
"I suppose you have not yet perfected a way of a painless childbirth?"
"Would that I could, Your Grace." The Grand Maester chuckled as he washed his hands in a bowl of steaming water that his sole surviving acolyte had prepared for him. Robb wrung his hands behind his back, watching his Maester and his Queen banter as though the threat of death did not literally hang in the skies. Margaery took a tentative step towards him to place her own gentle hand atop his.
"It appears to still be an early stage yet. I would guess no more than a moon or two ago. You mentioned your moon's blood is a week late?"
"Around that." Margaery nodded. Rickard pursed his lips in thought before looking up to see Robb still several miles away.
"My King, this troubles you?" he asked, causing Robb to look up at him then towards Margaery for a long moment. Robb considered his answer long and hard before he finally said it.
"How could it not?" he said, looking at Margaery instead of Rickard.
"The last time I had to leave King's Landing when Margaery was pregnant, she was almost killed and our babes butchered. Now we face an even greater threat and my queen shall be alone again. The notion greatly troubles me." Robb said as Margaery gave him a sad frown and a supportive squeeze of the hand. Robb sighed, pursing his lips as he looked at her for a moment. "Leave us, Rickard. Attend to those who need you."
The Maester inclined his head, leaving the young King and Queen alone in the King's solar. Robb took Margaery's hands in his to bring them to his lips. He held them still as their hands fell back down, his gaze following their journey.
"I want to stay, you know that don't you?" he asked her quietly as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and raised his blue-eyed gaze back to hold her own doe-eyed look of concern.
"I know." She said, giving him a small encouraging smile before a graver look slowly took her features. "I also know that we do not live lives that could give in to selfish desires. You are not just any king, you are the King. The King that Westeros needs now more than ever. If you do not lead them, we will lose everything. King's Landing…the Iron Throne…our titles, our families, our children…each other. So much more is at stake if you do not go than if you do. Against all odds…you came home for the twins. You were here to see the birth of your heir. You did it once Robb Stark, you've always done better. You will again." She told him, doing her all to give him the strength and resolve she knew he needed to march North away from her.
If she had the luxury of being honest, the sweet freedom to have what she wanted, Margaery would have demanded that Robb stay to protect their family. She would have demanded that they ride to the safety of Highgarden or even sail to furthest corner of the world away from this madness.
But as she had said to Robb, and to Petyr Baelish years ago, she was the Queen. And that title meant the responsibility of ensuring the realm thrived, the duty to protect every family and not just her own, the sacrifice to send her beloved husband away to fight for everyone and not just for her and their children. In that moment of painful selflessness, Margaery had to lie to Robb.
"At least something good came from that night, hm?" Robb asked, placing his hand over her belly.
"What n-…oh…" Margaery was confused for a moment before she realized that they had not been intimate since the night that Westeros fell to the snows. The knowledge that such horror occurred the same night that they conceived this child caused her a moment of deep concern.
"It truly gives me strength to think that in spite of the pain and misery…we can find hope." He said, giving her worries pause. She smiled a smile she had learned long ago, one to cover the true feelings she had and give the other person no reason to doubt her. With the burdens on Robb's shoulders he did not notice that his wife's smile did not reach her eyes in that moment, he did not notice that though her lips curled upward there was a force tugging the corners down. He did not notice the things that even three months ago would have had him pulling the truth from Margaery.
They held each other close with Margaery tilting her head up and Robb caressing the back of her head affectionately, they leaned in to kiss…
A horrific tolling of frozen metal bells caused them to practically leap apart, faces white with fresh fear as they charged in unison for the doors only to have Lord Davos Seaworth and Lady Dacey Mormont explode into the room with Ser Barristan and Ser Raynald right behind them.
"Gods…what now?"
The Myrish far-eye was cold against his skin, but he could not bring himself to tear his eyes away. Beyond the walls of the Red Keep and King's Landing, past the frozen shores of Blackwater Bay and the stranded, lopsided ships of the Royal Fleet locked in ice was a sight that made Robb's veins run as cold as the air around him.
"What is it, my love?" Margaery asked Robb quietly, shivering slightly despite the enormous fur cloak that practically drowned her.
"Ships, my Queen. Hundreds of them." Davos reported as Robb stayed silent and pressed the far-eye harder against his face.
"Lys. Braavos. Pentos. Tyrosh. Volantis. The Summer Isles." Robb's words were slow and deliberate until finally he pulled the far-eye down to look at Varys. "I see flags from every corner of the Known World that I can remember, and flags I have never seen before. What are we about to face, my lord?" his tone was as grim as their fate appeared.
"In all of history, the other regions have never united in this show of force and now they come to our shores when we are at our weakest?" Jon Stark asked incredulously.
"The Free Cities are our closest allies in trade, given our open correspondence I cannot believe they would attack us. They need us to defeat the Night King." Margaery said firmly.
"It is our openness with the foreigners that has led to this. We have trusted far too many far too easily and now we are about to pay the consequences." Robb sounded nothing like himself, fear and panic having warped the once liberal King's view.
Robb did not waste time, he turned on his heel and stormed away with his closest advisors behind him. Orders flew from his lips with every step.
"If it's my head they want, they will have to come get it. Lady Mormont, the army of the Reach is encamped along Blackwater Bay, liaise with Ser Garlan to have his soldiers form lines along the shore at once where the foreign ships will land." Dacey did not wait to incline her head or bow, she simply turned and ran to do as she was bid.
"Ser Davos have our sailors board the ships and man the scorpions. Any defence we can mount in our current state is a defence we will use. I will not let them take this city unbloodied." Robb growled. Davos did incline his head, musing for the briefest of moments on his King's command before mimicking Dacey and leaving quickly.
"Ser Barristan, your duty is greatest of all." Robb said, stopping to turn and face the greatest knight in modern history. "I entrust you with the lives of my family. You will take three other Kingsguard and a hundred Stark men to Highgarden with the Royal Family. You will take Princess Sansa, and you will leave two Kingsguard behind to protect Arya. In her state…she will be a liability…" Robb regretted his own words as he said them. Margaery, Ser Barristan and Ser Raynald looked at their King as though they wished to protest, but the tolling of the bells and the rising sound of a castle prepping for a siege forced them to realize that Robb was right.
Without a moment to kiss his wife or see his children, Robb was armed, armoured and standing on the battlements of the city with his top advisers watching rowboats stream closer towards them from the ships in the far distance. Some had already reached the thick of the ice, with men who looked as small as ants walking towards the solid line of Reach soldiers that spread out across the frozen shoreline of Blackwater Bay.
"If this is a siege, it seems like a bloody poor one." Davos commented wryly to murmured agreements from the others.
"Your Grace…they carry banners of peace." Dacey Mormont sounded as confused as Robb was, handing him the far-eye once again so he could see for himself.
To his shock and surprise he saw that she was correct. Every group that approached them from the fair-skinned people of Lys to the dark-skinned Summer Islanders flew white banners.
"A ploy?" Robb asked out loud.
"To what end? There's barely fifty of them coming to shore and the entire army of the Reach is facing them." Jon pointed out. Robb clenched his jaw, lowering the far-eye to think very hard.
"I'm going down. Lady Mormont, you have command. If anything should happen to me or the Lord Hand…the fate of Westeros rests on your shoulders."
"Oh…thank you…" Dacey said slightly sarcastically to her oldest friend and King. And though she japed, Dacey squared her shoulders and barked an order to her subordinates moments later.
"I'm coming with am I?" Jon asked. The Hand of the King had barely been back in King's Landing for a day after his exhausting task of liberating the greatest castles and keeps of the Reach from snow and ice. Rhaegal too was exhausted and even now was curled in a deep slumber in a warm cave underneath Aegon's Hill, unresponsive to Jon's attempts to reach out to him.
Robb did not turn to respond to his Hand, his words curt and to the point.
"If this is a ruse, I want you and that sword of yours at my back."