A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.


Robb

The courtyard rang to the song of swords.

William's pace had been frantic. He was using his size and strength to his advantage, and for most opponents that would have worked. Robb was not most opponents.

The problem with William's style was that he didn't have the conditioning for it. Even now as the boy swung wildly at him, Robb could she his labored breath burst through the cold air, his chest moving back and forth rapidly as his technique faded away into pure power and strength. The blood of Skagos was strong in him.

If someone could get it through his thick skull to marry his strength with the skill that Ser Arthur and Ser Rodrik had taught, but the boy had chose to ignore, he could be dangerous. Better than them all.

But William never liked the yard. He never was fond of trading blows with the other boys his age and he was only here because he still felt guilty for Bran. It was noble, wanting to be a knight because your best friend was no longer able to, but it was also folly. Did he really want it?

Still, he pressed on, hacking and slashing at Robb, trying his hardest to land the knock out blow that had already sent one poor boy to Maester Luwin. Robb ducked and dodged. He was trying to mock his cousin, trying to get him to see the point. He wasn't even using his sword anymore. It wasn't working.

"Stop running and fight me," he spat, taking large gulps of air between each word. He was struggling now. Ser Arthur would have taken this time to embarrass him, to teach him a lesson that would hopefully make him want to do better. Robb would try to do the same.

"Ash you wish." he charged forward, going on the offensive. William stumbled backward, he couldn't really defend himself, he was too tired. When he raised his sword, Robb decided to beat him with a simple move, one that Ser Arthur had taught them all when they were young. He went underneath his sword with a sweeping blow that crashed against the back of his legns and sent him staggering. If he hadn't been so exhausted, the boy might not have fell flat on his face.

He waited for him to roll over before he pressed his boot firmly on his chest, and pointed his practice sword firmly at his neck. "Yield." His cousin looked up him and scowled before he let his head fall, no longer attempting to hide that he was winded. There would be no rest.

"Get up," Robb scowled, removing his boot from the boy's chest. "You disgrace this yard. Your teachers were Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Cassel whose family has been serving ours long before you were a thought in your fathers head."

The boy struggled to move. "Get up!" he yelled this time. William struggled to his feet, chest still moving in and out rapidly. He lifted his sword, determination etched in his features.

"You are bigger and stronger than me, yet you can not touch me because you refuse to use the skill you were taught," he scolded. "Attack!"

The boy took another large gulp of air and charged, again his sword raised high above his head. Robb kicked him, hard, in his stomach and the boy fell over in front of him, spilling the contents of his breakfast on his boots.

Robb waited before he was finished, before he kneeled down next to his cousin, and lifted his chin so they were face to face, eye to eye… "Is this what you want?"

Defiance stared back at him. Robb smiled. "Get up!"

"Robb," he heard Maester Luwin call out. Robb looked up, saw a frown on the old Maester's face and sighed. "I think that is enough, besides, I have received word from your brother and Lord Stark."

Robb nodded and stood up, extending his hand out to his fallen cousin. He turned to Hallis Mollen. "Let him rest, and then put him in the classes with Rickon and the rest of the children. If he wants to act like he has never picked up a sword, we will treat him like it."


He read Jon's letter three times before he put it down. He couldn't help but admit the feelings of jealousy stabbed at him as he read it. He had to deal with the responsibility of Winterfell, while it seemed like Jon was having a great adventure with Ser Arthur. He knew it wasn't that simple but still… The respect for his father grew more and more each day. He wasn't sure how he handled it all, but he did and Robb had a duty to his people to do the same.

Still, settling petty disputes between the small fold wasn't as exciting as capturing the Mountain. He read Jon's letter again;

Brother,

We have captured the Mountain. I cannot tell you where we have taken them in case this letter gets intercepted, but I can tell you that we have him. I trust you will be able to figure it out. The men tell me that I should be happy and celebrating that it was my plan that captured the Mountain but I confess to you that I am not happy. I cannot celebrate. Revenge is not as sweet as it sounds. All I feel is sorrow. Sorrow for what never was. The North remembers, and it seems like I do as well.

In the end, the Mountain was not smart. He thought the caught the men and woman of the village he was attacking, he thought that we hadn't known about him but we had been scouting, we saw him coming and figured out his plan pretty easily. Then we trapped him, and his men crumbled. Only the Mountain was left standing, but what is a Mountain to Ser Arthur Dayne?"

The last time we wrote, we spoke about having dreams in shades of yellow and red. I still have those dreams. Sometimes I wake in the morning with the taste of rabbits fur and blood on my tongue but lately it has been different. In the crypts where our ancestors rest, we learned a lot about our family. I found myself dreaming about that too. Except, instead of red eyes, I see eyes white and as pure as snow telling me to free him from his slumber.

I'm not sure what it means, but it scares me. I will not lie.

Word has gotten out that father has chased the Kingslayer from King's Landing licking his wounds. War is coming brother. I can feel it. From what we have been taught of history, we both known that the old lion of Casterly Rock will not like what has happened. He is gathering an army.

I do not pretend to know what father has planned, but I hope that he has written to you to do the same. We will need you soon brother. I will need you soon. I can't explain it, but I feel it. Everything is about to change.

Give Bran and Rickon my love,

Jon

Jon had become a master of saying a lot without writing much. Perhaps it was a testament to their brotherhood that Robb knew exactly what Jon was talking about. Perhaps he was naive, and anybody could figure it out, although he hoped not.

It was obvious that they took the Mountain to Riverrun. It would have been the safest place to take him. Their father did not want Jon in King's Landing, and Riverrun would have been the closest place they could take him but it also made his mother's home a target. His mother had already drawn the ire of Lord Tywin Lannister by taking his son, the fact that Riverrun held his loyal bannerman prisoner would not calm it.

If Robb got word that Tywin was beginning to march, he would have to rally the North, and quickly.

The other part of the letter wasn't as straight forward. People would think they were crazy if they told them they dreamed through the eyes of their wolves let alone if someone figured out that Jon was talking about dreaming of a dragon….

A sudden knock on the door caused him to jump a bit. He had been expecting her, but didn't realize that she would come so fast.

"Come in," he felt like his father, and the curious look on her face as she walking in only reinforced that. Father always had a way of knowing who was there to see him.

She was as tall and lean as the day he met her. She had begun serving his family not long after Rickon was born, father requested for her specifically, and was one of the only people that could cure his wolf blooded wildness. His father had always rewarded her for her loyalty. Said that she had done more for them then he could understand. He was right, of course, Robb didn't understand… but his father trusted her. Bran trusted her. Rickon trusted her. So would he.

"Osha," he smiled, gesturing for her to sit down across from him.

She took her seat and stared at him blankly. It wasn't often he saw her smiling except for the times in which she spent with his brothers. He didn't expect her to know why she was summoned, and guessed that she could have been nervous. "M'lord."

"How's Rickon, and Bran?" he questioned, hoping that she would relax.

"Rickon is as wild as ever," she answered slowly before pausing, a small smile fighting against her frigid features. "Bran is… better. Bran is better. He is slowly getting back to himself. I took them both for a ride in the wolfswood yesterday. The saddle that the little lion left Bran works, they enjoyed themselves."

"Did you take guards?" he frowned.

She laughed. "If by guards you meant the wolves then yes. Even Lyarra came. You'd have to be stupid to attack the little Lords with their wolves around."

Robb smiled at her again, but suddenly he felt nervous. He didn't want to come off as insensitive, but she was the only person he could think of asking. The truth was that they heard rumors about the free folk, tales that some of them had special powers to take over the minds of animals. Wargs, they called them.

Old nan told tales of them too, of course, but all of her stories were of old legends that seemed so long ago. It was possible that Osha would know a living one. Then again, it was possible that she would just stare at him with the same blank face as she was, and think that he was crazy.

Bravery won out.

"I have to ask you something," he told her just as slowly as she answered him. He closed his eyes and sighed. "When I dream at night, I sometimes dream in shades of yellow. Sometimes I'm locked in a change with nothing to do but stare up at the moon and howl to be let out from my prison. Other times, I'm running through the godswood with my brothers, hunting deer and rabbit. It all feels like a dream, only when I wake up, I can still taste the blood of the animal I have hunted on my tongue, I can still smell them. It doesn't go away."

She stared at him as blankly as she did before, except it was worst because head turned to the side and for a moment she looked as if she was examining his very existence.

"So you too?"

Her questioned stunned him. What did she mean. The look on his face must have given it away because she laughed loudly at him, boisterous and full of mirth. "You Starks are full of surprises."

"What do you mean?"

"Your wild brother, Rickon likes to tell stories. He will gather all the other children around and tell them tales of how he went hunting with Shaggy Dog while they all were sleeping. They laugh at him and tell him he is dreaming, but I know the truth. I've seen the true North boy. Wargs you are, the litter of you."

"He does?"

She nodded. "Bran too except he is scared of them. He told me so himself. He came to me, much for the same reasons you come to me. He thought that being a free folk, I would know."

He was interested now. "Do you know?"

"A few. I knew a man once that was very fond of an eagle. He could control it, bond with it when we lived beyond the wall. He would use it to scout ahead for danger. It was useful. Orell was his name. I haven't really seen him since we left the wall. Word is that he went south and settled near Moat Cailin."

"He was a warg too?"

"A skinchanger," she replied like it was obvious. "Your little are wargs because of your wolves. Legend says that the Starks of old had direwolves. It is in your blood."

"Most of the ancestors in the crypts have statues of wolves next to them… " Robb trailed off, his mind racing with the answers she had given him.

"Aye," she shrugged.. "I will tell you like I tell Bran. When they come, don't fight it. Every day you kneel and talk to the heart tree. Might be that the gods are trying to talk back."

An odd silence passed before he spoke again. "Thank you."

"It was no problem m'lord," she told him. "Was there anything else you'd be needing?"

"If you could fetch Bran and Rickon for me? Maester Luwin too. Jon and my father have sent letters. I was hopping to let them know the contents."

"Of course," she responded and rose from her chair with a nod. Robb smiled at her before she turned and left. He waited a moment or two for her to be completely gone before he let out a deep sigh. She had left him a lot to think about but those thoughts would best be left for later. He still had a letter from his father to read.

He broke the seal and read,

Robb,

I write to you bringing both good news and bad. Your grandfather before you always told us that it is always best to lead with love, so that is what I will do.

By the time you get this letter, Sansa and Arya will be on the way home. I am sending most of the household home too. More than anything in the world, I want your sisters and brothers to be safe from what is to come, and there is no better place for them than Winterfell. After all, there must always be a Stark in our home.

This obviously means that something will happen in King's Landing. Do not worry for me son, as I have a plan to escape shall things go south. I will not lie to you Robb, war is coming. I can feel it. The time is coming where we will be able to do what is right… I hope you understand. Remember what I told you in the godswood. Winter is coming!

I know you are ready and I trust that you will do what is right but remember, just because it is right does not mean it is easy.

Summon the banners Robb. They will question you. They will tell you that you are not your father, and ask you what gives you the right. Remember that you are a Stark of Wintefell, that the blood of the King's of Winter runs through your veins, that you will fight for what is right, that the North Remembers. For us to survive winter, we must unite the South. It has to be done!

Be weary. Be safe. Trust your men around you. Listen to your uncle Benjen. I will see you soon.

Tell Bran and Rickon that I love them and make sure to bring Lyarra with you. I do miss her.

Love,

Lord Eddard Stark

Robb read it twice before frowning. His father had told him this would happen, had told him to be prepared… but it never seemed as real as this was.

Maester Luwin entered the room first and he looked up at him grimly before handing him the letter. He watched as various emotions played across the old Maester's face.

"You know what must be done," Robb spoke in a voice that reminded him of his father. Maester Luwin nodded tightly. "Summon the banners."


A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I know its been a while, but the good news is that my brother-in-law has landed on his feet again, so I have my space back. I'll be able to write and edit and rewrite etc more often, so expect the next chapter soon.

Hope you like this chapter! Kind of a filler I know, but next chapter we will get to some interesting action (at least I think it is.) As always, I do appreciate the likes, reviews, follows, everything!

Thanks!