When Robb closed his eyes he saw them: their skin of the weirwood during the frost; their armor like the ice that shattered atop a flowing lake; their eyes, burning cold. He felt their cold breath on the back of his neck. He saw their dead stolen from the snows, unlawful, unnatural creatures born from foul deeds. He saw the stolen babe turned into one of those things and the fat boy that killed it. What did he kill it with?
How do you kill something that's already dead?
Robb didn't know. He was good at killing live things and taking castles. The White Walkers, though, didn't have live things, nor castles. They had snow and ice and wind and millennia of practice in patience and waiting. What could Robb wait for? He couldn't even wait for his rightful bride.
"My beloved?" Jeyne whispered, her arm slipping over his middle. It hurt to sleep on his side like he preferred because of the arrow he took while taking her ancestral keep. He couldn't wait for that, either.
"Yes?"
"Have you slept? Does your wound pain you?"
"No."
Jeyne hummed in appeasement and tucked into his side, laying her head atop his chest as she fell back into sleep. He never thought he would have this before, not really. He couldn't wait for it; no patience, no foresight, nothing but the moment. That suited him well in battle, aye.
He needed to look ahead now. How else to defeat an army of the dead? They were dead longer than they were ever alive. Did they eat? His soldiers ate by the bushel. Did they sleep? His soldiers collapsed during the march. Were they impassioned, fervent? A man who fought for nothing died sooner than the man who fought for everything. What did Others fight for?
When Robb ate that paste, he saw something—he looked ahead. That fat boy was of the Night's Watch like his brother Jon. Robb needed to redraw his will; his unborn son, then Sansa, then Jon, and Jon especially. Jon would know of these creatures. Robb saw him see them, saw him burn one, saw him fighting, so graceful and deadly like some creature unto himself. His dear brother, the only one left.
Robb saw his father. He spoke with him as if it were just another day in the ancient Godswood of Winterfell. He'd thought it one of the witch's tricks again, another dream they shared but it wasn't. It was real and unreal. Ned Stark's ghost looked like he looked when Robb was a few years younger, giant and so very wise with that long, solemn face.
My son, he said with a proud smile. You've done well.
Yes, very well. He lost Winterfell and Bran and Rickon died for it. Now there were Ironmen pillaging the North, he had no Kingslayer, five thousand less men, and a witch in his shadow.
At least Sansa was safe and hale. She claimed the witch hadn't treated her badly though she warned Robb that Lady Talya had strengths unknown and was deadly besides. He doubted that. How could Sansa be so well versed in her particular danger if the witch hadn't shown her in the first place? He would keep peace for as long as she held her tongue.
Who wanted a witch in their army anyway? Was he Stannis Baratheon to be swayed and defeated at every turn by that cursed red priestess of his? His lady mother told him all about that murderous shadow—and could he even trust his mother's judgement now? He dropped his guard for a moment and everything fell to pieces.
Robb looked ahead. He had enemies to the south, west and north but who were the most dangerous? Tywin Lannister was implacable in his vengeance but he fought a war on three fronts. If Robb went North he would be beyond their reach and winter was coming. He needed to pass the Twins to go north and orient himself correctly.
There was the rub. The Twins.
Blame his lack of foresight and his stupid cock. Robb loved Jeyne but he'd been stupid in marrying her. If he had just waited, if he hadn't let himself become weak, if he just sent her away…now he had no Freys and he needed to pass their keep to go back North. He'd forgotten that when he married Jeyne. He'd forgotten everything when he married her. He was happy for a few hours, incandescent and unstoppable, and now he was losing the war.
He would die South before he ever had a chance to go North. Who else knew about the Others? The fat boy and Jon all the way up at the wall. The ghost of his dead father.
The witch. She went to the isle and ate the paste just as he. She had left a crater in the woods after digging something out of the ground, though the Green Man didn't know what. What did she take and why? What did the Gods show her? Did she speak to his father too? Did Sansa?
He needed to know. He was learning now. All this lack of foresight taught him one thing: he needed to look back. Maester Luwin once said that there were no new answers in the world; in the passing of millennia, everything had already been done. Robb must look to knowledge now and look back. All the answers of the future laid there.
And that meant talking to the witch.
Talya Astun was no proper lady. Robb knew it just from the way she sat.
She sprawled in the chair across from him in his borrowed solar with her breeches-clad legs open like it was hers, arms crossed over her chest, her grey eyes searching his solar curiously. Her scar was real and laid waste to her face. He noticed that her smile was crooked because of it. She still struck a handsome figure, proud and cool, like she had all the time in the world to sit in front of a King—the King, he was the King. Important distinction.
Robb leaned his forearms on the table and stared at her. She met his gaze easily, waiting expectantly for when he would speak. He didn't. He just looked at her. Her scar made her look much older than she was. In truth she had to be some-and-twenty, no older than Dacey Mormont. Perhaps she was a witch-maid but he doubted that. She was brazen, she'd already proved that. What virgin would be so?
(Just the taste of a maid like Jeyne made so much clear to Robb. He knew now why his namesake Robert Baratheon fought so inexorably for his aunt Lyanna, if they had ever...you know. It made so much sense now. Theon knew it rightly. Sex and money, that made the world go 'round. Theon was a blackguard but it was Robb who looked the fool. Theon always knew.)
There was something about her that rankled with him. He knew her from his dream, aye, but there was something else familiar about her. Was it her eyes? But he'd never met anyone who looked like her, let alone had those silver moon eyes. Perhaps her smirk. She was just like Theon, so cocky and laughing at a jape no one else knew.
What did she really know? Robb felt himself frowning and made his face stony.
"Why are you really here, Talya Astun?" he asked.
Her silver eye twitched. "Must you invoke my name?" Her voice was low and he had never met anyone from Essos in his life thus far but her accent struck oddly, for sure.
Funny that she said invoke. What was she, a reluctant goddess or a woods-witch summoned to her Lord's hall?
"Does it make you truthful?" Robb retorted.
"Have I lied, your grace? This is the first time we're speaking, no?"
Robb bit the inside of his cheek. Did she not remember the dream? She went to the Isle because of it, she must. Otherwise he was going mad independently of the dark witch, and that was no good sign. Foresight once again said, draw your will.
"In a fashion," he admitted, gritting through his teeth. "In other ways, I believe we have already met."
"Yes, I recall," she said airily, waving her hand. "Sorry about that. I thought you were a dreamwalker. I never met a dreamwalker I liked."
"I've never met a witch I liked."
"Ooh!" Talya whistled with a laughing grin, clutching her middle. "He bites! Okay, your grace. So we know each other," she admitted. "I went to the Isle; you went to the Isle. I ate the paste; you ate the paste. I saw…" she trails off, giving him an evaluating look. Robb can't help but lean forward, his heart racing.
"What did you see?"
Her face turns serious. "Nothing that I liked or look forward to seeing again. My guide called them White Walkers."
He inhaled sharply. It was real. It was real.
"I'm assuming you saw them too by the look on your face," she adds.
"Aye."
The witch was mortal; she made faces like a proud servant bristling at orders. Her nose scrunched and she glanced at the open window. When she met his eyes, she was deeply earnest. "Look, I'm sorry if you don't like me or you think it's my fault or whatever but I... The reason I'm here is because I want to go home. If I want to go home, I need to help the Starks defeat the White Walkers."
"Why can't you just magic yourself home?"
Lords Bolton and Umber as well as Lady Maege had taken advantage of their meeting yesterday and gave him reports of her magic. It was true that she could…transport herself in some unnatural manner, pour water from an invisible source, create light, all of that without a grand ritual, as if it were totally commonplace. If she was like the other proud warrior women Robb knew, she would disdain any help from a man. What did she need from them really?
Talya huffed. "I fucking wish. I was kidnapped by the Red Priestess called Melisandre. She serves Stannis Baratheon—they tried to make me fight for him. That's why I was in King's Landing the night of the Blackwater. She stole me completely, in such a way that I really, really can't get home until I finish what I've been forced to start.
"Please, your grace," she pleaded, her eyes softening and her voice thick with emotion. "Let me stay in your service. This is the only way for me. I've communed with the gods, I've seen the Walkers, I don't know what else there is for me to do except be here. If you won't have me, just kill me. I meant it when I told you that."
That is...that is nothing like what he thought she would tell him. Kidnapped by a Red Priestess? Conscripted in Stannis Baratheon's army? She was a traitor…but she had done him such a great favor. Either way it was too late.
"Do you think me the kind of king to go back on my word?"
"I don't know!" the witch threw her hands up in defeat. "I don't know you, and words are only words. I don't know anyone in Westeros. I never even heard of it before I came here. That means I have no one to betray you to, no loyalty except to you." she told him fervently. "You have my life in your hands, all my power, all my will. It's yours and I want you to win."
"Why?" Robb questioned.
Who didn't want him to win? Once upon a time, Robb Stark was like his eldest younger sister, enamored with songs. Was he not young, handsome and highborn? Was he not righteous and brave? He had never lost a battle, and he fought Lannisters besides, who slaughtered babes in the cradle and pillaged indiscriminately. He didn't fight to conquer lands but to avenge his father and his sisters, and now his brothers. In the stories it was one such as he that always triumphed, that should triumph.
Life was not like the stories. If it were otherwise, no tales would ever be told.
"Because I want to go home," the witch said, her shoulders slumping with something like defeat.
He shook his head. "I need a better reason than that." Theon always wanted to go home.
"I think you have the right of it, your grace. You're not fighting for money or land. You just want your sisters back and your father's bones. You were wronged; I was wronged. And you…I hope my brother is as happy to see me when I go home as you were to see the Princess. You remind me of him, maybe."
That was much better. Robb knew about the brother as well. Lords Umber and Bolton didn't mention her sentiments there but Smalljon and Dacey caught it. She was morose and lonesome. She longed to return to her family, if not just him.
"Only maybe?" Robb said, almost teasing.
"My brother is perfect but he doesn't have a heart for war like this. You wouldn't want him to be your warrior, your grace. You should want me. When you went to the Isle and spoke to the gods, what did they show you? The Walkers, surely, maybe a way to defeat them? Were they clear in their message? They showed me a path and here I am, walking it. You look hesitant to me; it's no matter. I do not hesitate. I am like...a sword without a hilt."
"There is no safe way to grasp it," Robb countered.
She made a pinched face. That wasn't the meaning she meant for him to infer but she shrugged. "You're right, there isn't. What will you do, your grace?"
Yes, what would he do?
Robb looked deep into her silver eyes, bright and wild. That feeling of familiarity tickled him once more. She had wolf eyes, wise and keen and dangerous. In his vision he saw the witch trudging through the snows in furs and black mail, a sword that glittered like crystal in her hands. It wasn't the one she swore herself to him with and he wondered when it would come into play. He saw her beside him again and again; in the woods, on the field, beside him in dark rooms. Was that any way to control her, to be sure she wouldn't betray him?
No. Hindsight told him nothing could ever make him sure, even the words of the gods. They watched infinite acts of horror for millennia for all the numberless people of the world high and low, and did little and less to stop it. Who was Robb to say that their grand stratagems were not for his victory but for his death? He would never know, not truly, until it was too late.
As he pondered, Talya's frown deepened into worry. She bit her lip and glanced around the room.
"How about this?" she spoke. "I can do you one more favor, Robb Stark, if you can suspend your distrust of me for another week. One more favor to prove I'm the best friend you'll ever have."
Robb's brows flew up in interest. Another favor from the Lady Witch of Loisaida?
(A greater debt to be owed.)
At the next meeting of his War Council, the witch snuck in with Lady Maege. She looked at the room and the vast map on the table with bright curiosity. Her black curls were pulled into four precise plaits, her scar bared for all to see. Did she ever hide it? The Hound with his disgusting, oozing burn kept his hair long to cover it and snapped at all who stared. Robb would've thought a woman would have more humility. The witch dared them to look.
As she leaned forward to look at their battle map and arrangement of forces, Ser Marq Piper stared at her, his eyes wide. She raised her head and met his gaze directly.
"Hi," she said, almost mocking. Ser Marq smartened up with a tight lipped smile in return but did not return the greeting.
Robb bit the inside of his lip. Was this a poor idea? If his commanders couldn't observe the most basic of courtesies with the witch, would they lose respect with Robb for doing so? He didn't want a witch on his council either, he was no Stannis Baratheon, but she had her usefulness didn't she? It was only for this one day. She would say her piece and be on her way.
Soon they all took their seats. The witch placed herself out of sight in the back of the room and his uncle Blackfish called the meeting to start.
Edmure spoke first.
"What is she doing here?" he all but growled, pointing at her with a clenched jaw.
All the heads in the room turned with a wary creak to the back corner where the witch had seated herself in a chair he wasn't entirely sure had been there before. Robb wanted to sigh in exhaustion. What had the witch done to his uncle? Spurned him? Robb had never taken his uncle for the type to like ugly ones. Theon always said plain girls were the most eager to please. Was Talya eager to please anyone? Robb took in her dark, unsmiling expression, her eyes unfathomable as all these great lords of war stared at her.
No, she was not.
"Lady Talya is here by my invitation," Robb told him. "She has an idea I would have your counsel in considering."
Edmure's mouth twisted nastily. "What does a witch know of war?"
Talya said nothing but Robb was incensed now at the nerve of him and his boasting and his foolish glory.
"Before questioning others on their knowledge of war tactics, Lord Edmure, explain your own. You crow about a victory at the Stone Mill when you've done nothing more than bloody Tywin's nose. Was it my command that you bloody his nose? Do you think a bloodied nose will win the war? " Robb demanded with all his authority.
Edmure blinked in surprise. "I held Riverrun, Robb, and I sent Lord Tywin's running."
Robb's eyes narrowed. "Your grace. You took me as your king, Uncle, or have you forgotten that as well?" he corrected icily. Edmure balked, his mouth gaping like a fish.
"Was it my command that you send him running? No. I told you to hold Riverrun. If you had done as I asked, Tywin Lannister would be trapped in the West as Stannis Baratheon took King's Landing, but you didn't. Tywin was able to run to King's Landing and turn the battle. The Lannister still hold the Iron Throne and now I have enemies on three fronts. Do you think that worthy of boasting now?"
And now you have forced me to humiliate you in front of everyone. When would his relations stop putting him in such positions? Edmure flushed and looked ill-stricken.
"I never meant...your grace, please you must let me make amends."
"You will," Robb promised coldly. "Now, we will hear what Lady Talya has to say. Speak now, my lady." Robb commanded.
The witch nodded, utterly serious. "Yes, your grace. We no longer have Jaime Lannister. I could fetch him like I did the Princess." she said simply.
Robb's eyes narrowed. Fetched the Princess, did she?
"Fetch him?" the Greatjon guffawed. "He is not a bolted horse, witch!"
Talya only leaned forward, her silvery eyes brightening with intent. "But he is, my lord, and we know where he is going. He and this lady knight are two weeks out but they have to travel discreetly and I'm sure she has her hands full thwarting his escape attempts. They can't have gotten very far, they're not in King's Landing yet. With magic, there may be a way I can pinpoint his location exactly, and I can travel that distance in an afternoon."
Impossible! the lords muttered.
"It is true, my lords," Lady Maege spoke. "I have seen the Lady Witch's magic. She can travel so quickly."
Oh, thank the gods, Robb exhaled in sharp relief. He nodded certainly and added, "The Princess has also witnessed this firsthand, my lords. Lady Talya can do it. Tell us how you would locate him."
"Bah!" Lord Jonos Bracken scoffed. "What do women know of mummery? It enchants them."
Lady Maege turned her fierce glare on the riverlord. "Are you calling me a liar, Lord Bracken?"
"Lord Bracken," the Greatjon intercedes. "I saw the Witch do the magic with my own eyes, as well as Lord Bolton this past evening. Will you call me a fool?"
Lord Bracken grumbled but kept his opinion to himself after that.
"Anyway," Talya said, "If you have any of his personal effects I could scry for him through the bond of possession. Do you have anything of his, your grace?"
Robb glanced at his uncle Blackfish.
"We captured him during battle. We hold his armor and his sword." Ser Brynden confirmed.
Talya grinned crookedly. "Perfect," she nearly purred, her eyes glittering. "Let me examine them, your grace, and I can find him directly."
"And if this magic fails you?" Lord Glover posed. The witch half-rolled her eyes but covered it by smoothing her hairline.
"It won't. Scrying by possession is as simple as knowing which side of the bed is yours."
"Explain," Bolton demanded. For all his coldness, his frosty eyes were keen with interest.
"Everything in the world has kinship. Your bed is yours and in turn, the bed recognizes you as its owner. You dutifully lie on whichever side you lie every night and your bed welcomes you in her embrace. Or, look around the room, my lord, and how we are all seated. This is the same way you seat yourselves every time the council meets, is it not?" They all nodded in agreement. "If I had taken a seat at the table, I would have displaced everyone and you all would have grumbled and glared my way, yes?" Talya asked this with a laughing smile and they chuckled good-naturedly.
"You see, you have kinship with your seats. A warrior would dutifully maintain their sword and armor and Ser Jaime's sword and armor long for the days when he took care of them—I'm sure that no one here has. That kinship is still strong. They want to be reunited. I bet that even as we speak the Kingslayer longs for his sword so he can make his true escape. One will show me the path to the other."
Lord Bolton barely nodded, the rest of his face inscrutable. Robb nodded as well. What she said was reasonable. He knew what side of the bed was his and which was Jeyne's. If they switched it would feel wrong. And in Winterfell when he was a boy, he favored a training sword with a distinct nick in the hilt so much so that when he practiced with others his performance was off.
The witch Talya's shark grin sweetened with satisfaction. "So, your grace, by your leave, I can examine the Lannister's items, determine his location, and fetch him for you. I could be ready to depart before dusk and return in…three days?" she shrugged. "Let's say five, just in case anything happens. I don't even need a horse." She added helpfully.
"What of the lady knight?" Lord Karstark demanded. "She is a criminal as well. She stole the Kingslayer at Lady Stark's command."
The witch pursed her lips in thought and hummed. "Do you want her back?" she asked Robb.
Now, Uncle Blackfish leaned over and whispered in Robb's ear. "Your grace, the lady knight was only following the orders of your mother. She swore to protect her. She had no ill intention."
The witch watched them like she could hear them. It made Robb shift in his seat uncomfortably but he needed to think carefully. Lord Karstark's determination in finding someone to blame for this act was...well it would be good and fine if it wasn't Robb's mother that was culpable. He couldn't allow that to happen to his mother and if it couldn't be her, it had to be someone. (Was it not clearly writ in the pledge that one should not ever ask for a service that would bring dishonor? Damn you, Mother.) If he didn't, he feared that Lord Karstark would take justice into his own hands.
Robb also knew that his lords would be vindicated by Lady Catelyn's ignominious blunder twice over—and to be made the fool by a dark witch, of all people! Would her reputation stand to recover? He would lose her as a respected advisor, there would be no peace between them and his mother could hold a grudge. He'd seen it all his life with his brother Jon Snow .
Look at what he stood to gain: one of his sisters returned and his most important hostage. He would have all the players on his side. If Lady Talya was successful in this, he could use her again—seven hells, she had volunteered! She wanted to be made useful and the North needed her still if his visions on the Isle of Faces were to be believed.
"Lady Brienne will face justice for her acts. I will write a command that you will present to her—if she does not listen, take her prisoner as well." Robb declared.
"My lords," Uncle Edmure opened his stupid mouth, sneering at Talya. "Is our war to be dependent on foreign strangers and dark magic? Will we send this witch ahead of the vanguard at the next battle to save us the burden of cleaning the blood from our swords? Will we—"
"It sounds to me like you don't want the Kingslayer back, Lord Tully." Talya interrupted. "It hurts me that you don't trust my abilities. I'm not trying to steal glory or whatever it is you think. Even if I wanted to end all your battles before they began, it's not within my abilities. I'm better suited to clandestine operations."
Edmure's eyes lit righteously. "You admit you are a spy, then?"
"If the King in the North needed a spy it could be me, but I'm not suited for Westerosi espionage. I'm clearly a foreigner and thus regarded with suspicion."
"What are you good for then?"
Talya beamed, her teeth so white and straight. "I am the perfect maid to clean up messes."
His Uncle Blackfish flattened his lips like he was hiding a grin. Lord Bolton was practically grinning.
"My lords, my lords!" Robb commanded over the hissing mutters. "I see no fault in Lady Talya's plan but I would have your wisdom. Shall I give her leave to chase down the Kingslayer?"
They turned pensive and solemn. "What if she fails?" Karstark said.
"If she fails, nothing will be made worse," Lord Wylis Manderly countered. "We have everything to gain and she has already given us one boon in returning the Princess."
"If she dies?" the Greatjon wondered.
Talya kissed her teeth. "Okay, chill, I'm right here. Have some faith in me, bro, I'm good at this stuff." She flashed a small grin and the heavy mood lifted.
"We are in accord then. Lady Talya has my leave to inspect the sword and armor of the Kingslayer and perform whatever such magic is necessary."
Talya stood and bowed formally, all business. "You won't regret it, your grace."
"Lady Talya, I am intrigued by your magic. Would you permit me to witness the scrying?" Lord Bolton asked.
Talya snorted in laughter though Robb couldn't see what was so funny about it. "Okay, dude. Just don't interrupt me if it freaks you out."