NOTE:

I'm late! I'm late! I'm very, very late!

Sorry sorry!

This one had been hard to make. Like really. I don't know why but I always struggle with Robb's chapters...

...

What?

No, it's not a spoiler! Come one! The King in the North! Who do you think we are talking about?

Anyway, no chit chat moment! I'll answer reviews and then I'm out!

Guest(1): Sorry about the puppies! It hurt to think about it I know! Cersei is awful everyone knows that, and I hate her as much as most of us so I won't complain about that! Same for Joffrey. But I must admit that your idea to get rid of them is... interesting. My, oh my aren't you bloodthirsty little thing... Not that I complain! I love the idea!

Shade: Thank you! I'm glad I caught you off guard! I did put some clues about Kyria's fate but to see you didn't get them... well I'm glad! The suspense was intact! Your idea about Drogo and Dany and Kyria is interesting... I won't say more than that: I also have specific plans for Dany that might as well surprise you. I thought a lot about Tyrion meeting Kyria before her departure for Pentos, but in the end, I didn't do it. I have a limited amount of time for this story if I want it to go the way I imagine it, and retarding Kyria's depart would have been too much. Continuity sacre bleu! I'm really happy to know you enjoyed the scenes with Varys and Kyria! And I am very relieved about Arya... It worried me! As for your question, well, for now, I have not plan for them to come into this story for the simple reason that I don't know them well and I don't want to make mistakes about that. I already am wayyyy out of my comfort zone with all of this and everything I have to plan and build in the same time ( war and the rest) so adding characters that I do not know well or storylines I'm not sure I understand would just be painful for me and for their fans... So for now no. But then again, who knows!

Guest (2): Thank you! Glad you like it! And for the wolves... well, SUSPENSE! ;)

M: Hello there! Glad you liked this chapter! And Sansa's interaction with Joffrey. As for Kyria well, in her way she was smart about it. She made him angry enough for him to lose his means. He didn't know what to do or say and it destabilized him. And made him a joke in the throne room. But yes, she could have done something else... Wasn't very well planned indeed. But the girl is grieving! AND she had just seen her worst fear come to live in front of her. I would be distressed too! I'm very happy about what you think of Varys and Arya. And that you didn't see it coming, Kyria in Essos! Suspense worked! Yay! Hope this chapter will please you!

Guest (3): SUSPENSE MY FRIEND! I won't tell you what I have planned! But I did take your plea into consideration (xD)

And I also wanted to thank you all for the 100 reviews! THANK YOU! I can not begin to say how happy I am to see you react to my work and share with me your thought! It means the world! Thank you very much! I hope to continue to please and entertain you with the weird thing happening inside my brain!

Alright on to the chapter!

Chapter 21: The King in the North

Year 298 AC Tenth Month

The Stark Army's War Camp, Riverrun

Catelyn

… I am deeply sorry, dear Cat to be the one who has to deliver such terrible news. Know that my wishes are for you and your family…

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Words were mud on the parchment. And she couldn't breathe.

No.

No. This must have been a mistake. This couldn't be happening. This was a mistake. A cruel joke Petyr put on her for obscure reasons. It could not be real.

Ned. Her Ned. Her husband-

No. No, no this could not happen to her. It couldn't. Not to Ned, not to their family. There was no way, no universe where this could happen.

Why would the gods punish her in such a way? Why would they persist in taking every Stark man she had the misfortune of falling in love with? Why?

Brandon had been taken from her before they could even marry. And now after everything, every hardship, every obstacle they went through, now they took Ned too?!

No, no this couldn't do. It could not go that way. It-

There was no way for the gods to be so cruel! They couldn't do that to them without reason! She refused to believe this happened without reason. The gods she worshiped her whole life could not be so cruel.

Her mind was a mess. The words still blurred on the paper, but she couldn't care less. Everything was falling apart around her. She knew part of her knew what was implied behind those simple little words.

Ned was dead. Beheaded by Joffrey Baratheon's command in front of the entire city of Kingslanding. Her Ned. Her Husband. Dead.

This couldn't be. Not her Ned.

But it was. Petyr would not lie to her about this. He was not a cruel man.

And to think he promised her he would protect her Ned. Her Ned…

Oh, this couldn't-

No, she needed to- she needed to-

Robb.

Oh, Robb. Oh, gods Robb. She needed to tell Robb.

Robb who started a war for his Father…oh how could she do that to him.

How could she do this… But she had too. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't stay here and bask in her own misery. Robb needed the truth.

They needed to think of what to do next. How to make those Lannister pay for what they had dared do to their family. How to retake her little girls.

Oh, the girls… She could not even begin to imagine what it must have been for her poor girls. To learn of their father's execution. To be left alone in this dreadful place.

With shaking hand and wooing legs, Lady Catelyn Stark of House Tully slowly stood up, her face twisted in anguish. She took a moment longer to gain a semblance of control over her emotions. All of it was raw and painful and she only wished for a safe place to let go of all the tears that pained her eyes. But she couldn't do that. Her boy, her son needed her. Now more than ever.

With one last breath, she straightened her back, and exit her tent to her son's.

Once there, she took a minute to contemplate her growing boy. How far he would go, how strong and fierce he already was. He was growing a bit more each day. More mature, more adult, more like- like-

Oh, she remembered the very first time she saw his little face. All red and puffed and screaming to the whole world his discomfort. Her little baby. Her pride and joy.

And now she was about to broke his heart.

It wasn't fair. It was not fair!

"Mother?"

She blinked and he was looking at her, his face twisted in concentration, the map of Westeros displayed in front of him and his men.

He must have notice something in her posture, for soon his face changed for worry.

"What is it?" he pressed fearfully.

She opened her mouth but the words did not come. Her eyes traveled to the faces around her son. All loyal Lords devoted to her Ned. All of this for him, to save him, to defend him and their name. And it was her duty to tell them of the terrible news.

"Lady Stark!" gruffed Lord Umber.

"My Lords- I beg your pardon but I need to talk with my son." She said, taking a step forward.

"But of course Lady Stark!" boomed the large lord.

He stood and with large movements of his hands guided the other men outside the tent. Cat waited patiently for them all to be outside. She couldn't look at any of them. She had trouble looking at her son.

"Mother what happened?" he asked again.

She took another step.

"Robb-" she started, her voice trembling with repressed emotions. "Robb I need to tell you something."

"What? Tell me, Mother, you are worrying me."

"It's about your Father Robb."

He blinked and look at her, waiting for the rest. But she couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence.

"Mother-"

"Your Father-" she said again, "Your father had been-"

"Mother please, tell me."

"Your Father is- He had been- Robb I'm so sorry…" she said finally her eyes hot with tears.

She had not need to say more. Robb sat back on his chair, slowly, his eyes lost and confused. He blinked and look at her.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked finally after a long moment of painful silence. "What does it mean Mother?!"

"Robb-"

"It can't be- He was- They- They killed my Father?!" he roared finally, bumping his fist against the table.

She had to stop herself. The urge to sob was so great. She had to stop.

"They killed my Father?!" he said again, louder.

Distantly, Catelyn could hear rumbles of voices echoing her son's cries, but she couldn't gather herself to hear them. Her child was hurt. It was all that mattered for her right now.

He raged in silence. It was the most surprising for Catelyn. How silent he was suddenly. She knew her boy, how he worked, how he dealt with his emotions. Never before had he raged in this silent fuming. He reminded her of his sister. Kyria did that too. Before her fall, when she was still her innocent little girl, without the nightmares and the look, old beyond her years she wore sometimes. She used to stay angry for days. Silently. Where Arya was explosive and Sansa dramatic, she was silent, only glaring at anyone and anything until someone confronted her for it. She exploded then. Bursting right at the face of the poor soul who would be left alone to deal with it all.

Robb had never done that before. He was quick in anger, the Wolf blood they call it in Winterfell. A Stark trait. Seeing him now, in his silent fury, was almost frightening.

"Robb-"

"They did that then…" he said slowly. "They killed my father…"

"Robb, I know this is a lot but-"

"The girls." He said. " What do we know about the girls?"

"I- we- Petyr hadn't mentioned-"

"Petyr? Baelish?! Your confident is Baelish?! The same Baelish that made you kidnap Tyrion Lannister and start this whole mess?! That Baelish?! And you still trust him?"

"Robb! Now is not the time to talk about those things! We have more important matters to discuss than this silly conversation and-"

"Silly conversation? You started a war! And now my Father is dead because of it! My sisters are prisoners in Kingslanding and my little brothers are alone at Winterfell while you enjoy yourself playing the seasoned commander of whatever battle you think you have won! I think this is the perfect time to talk about this!" he boomed.

Catelyn took a step back, shocked beyond herself of her son's outburst. How could he talk like that? She was his mother! She understood his pain and anger. She was angry too. Those Lannister were taking apart her family right in front of her and nothing could anger her more than the idea of her children hurt by those monsters. But this was no reason to talk to her like that.

"Robb, I understand your anger but-"

"Aye I am angry Mother. I had to call my banners, to cross that blasted bridge, to promise myself to that Vulture's daughter and to send two thousand men to certain death! All of this for what? To free your home from an Army you put here with your actions instead of rushing to the capital to save our family! Aye I am angry!

"Robb- those men didn't die! Not all of them your strategy-"

"It doesn't matter!" he cut her harsh and more furiously than ever before. "It doesn't matter if they were two thousand or two hundred to die, they died! Because of a plan I had to make to get through Tywin Lannister to free the Riverlords! And my uncle and grandfather! Something I didn't need to do had you stopped in your quest of justice just one moment and thought about what you were doing!"

Catelyn felt her eyes burn with hurt and tears. He was blaming her! Her own flesh and blood! Blaming her for his father! How could he think such a thing! Her family was the most important thing in the world for her and defending it was her priority! It had always been that way and will continue as long as she has breath in her lungs!

To hear him say such things… accuse her of being the reason of her family's misfortune. It hurt more than anything else ever did. She fought her tears and the crush of her heart, not willing to let herself go in front of her child. He was in pain too. This was the reason why he was saying all those things. It couldn't be anything else but that.

"I need to think." Gruffed Robb, already halfway out of the tent.

Soon, Cat was alone, her thought was painful inside her head. Full and confused. She took a sit in front of the table, blind to the figures dispatched around the map, positions of the different parties of Robb armies, his plans, and enemies.

Her entire world was falling apart. All around her. And she had no idea how to deal with it. Never before had she felt such a pain. Not when her mother died, so long ago now she barely remembered sometimes, not when she learned of Brandon's death at Kingslanding, when she was young and foolish and thought her life was over. Not when Ned brought back the bastard safely cuddled in the crook of his arm. Not when he left her again, for Robert's war against the Greyjoy. Not when Kyria fell and lost her memories, where for days she feared her darling girl was lost to her. Not when Bran ended up burned and she was left again worrying for days if one of her precious children would be ripped off her side.

Nothing in the numerous days of pain and suffering she endured all her life was comparable to her pain right now. Nothing.

Why?

Why would the gods punish her in such a way?!

She was always true to her faith, to them. She always did her duty, to her family, to her name and statue. Why was she punished? After everything…

The gods were just. The gods were hard but merciful to those who served them. She knew it. The gods had rewarded her for her faith and truth, with each child born from her. Each one a gift from her gods, a proof that what she did was good and just. Thar she was in the right path.

Catelyn Stark had always prided herself of being a woman of strong beliefs. Everything happened for a reason. The good or the bad. So, if the bad happened to her and her family there must be a reason.

The Lannisters were to blame of course, for they started the whole thing. But they couldn't be the only ones. Why would the gods reward such a family? So full of sins and so greedy in their thirst for power. So unworthy of the love of the Seven, of their mercy and their protection. They couldn't look out for such a disgusting family.

But even if they did, it could not be the only reason why.

In the midst of her pain, Catelyn thought of the Bastard. Jon Snow. And that night, so long ago, his little breath so slow and painful to hear. She remembered her shame, the horror that inhabited her when she realized what her foolish prayers would have done to an innocent little boy. How she could have condemned him. She remembered her determination. This promise she made the gods. This vow she took that saved his life.

She remembered how fast she put it away, out of her mind. Her anger was still so pure. So hot in her flesh. How dark it was then, how dark it was still. Burning and burning, deep inside her. Her failure. This anger had been her failure. Her shame. She couldn't do it. She never has been able to do it. She couldn't love this child.

Was it her punishment? For breaking her promise. For wanting the death of a motherless child?

She couldn't face it. The truth behind Robb's words. She was to blame. She was to blame for all of it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

After a while, she found Robb in the woods, outside of the camp. The sound of his sword clashing the tree still resonated inside her head. The sound of his cries. His pain. He had refused her arms. Even though she had yearned to hold him, her poor boy. He had stood, tall and straight, fire burning in his eyes and the sun lightening his silhouette. Like a knight in a song. It made her think of Sansa and then it was her tears she wiped of instead of his.

Sansa… her sweet little girl. And Arya and Kyria. Her girls. The three of them. Prisoners to those monsters…

"They have your sisters." She had said then.

Robb had looked at her. The muscle of his jaw working.

"Aye. They have." He nodded. "And I will take them back. I will take them back and kill that little prick right on his ugly chair."

Catelyn had smiled then. Tears close to her eyes.

The following morning, the army was marching again. Robb in front of it. Catelyn was in the middle of it all, surrounded by Stark men. Riding to a war. Petyr words burned inside her mind, fresh like she just read them.

Ned…

She thought of going home after that. To Winterfell. To her babies, who might need of her. She hesitated a long time when one of those brave men came to her to tell her of her son's decision to leave. But Robb was about to fight a war. He had fought a battle already. He had won, yes, but it didn't mean he would win every time. The Whispering woods had been a horror to leave for her. Staying up in this horse for hours. Waiting for them to come back. Waiting for the fate of her son. To know finally if he lived or died. No mother should ever live such a thing.

To see him reappear, unharmed and victorious…She couldn't remember a moment where she felt happier in the past months.

To Have him come with a freshly captured Jaime Lannister… She had been so proud then. So proud of her boy.

But the wait… She couldn't deny how useless she was out there, while her son was fighting for their family. Just as she couldn't deny that the idea of going back home to her other children was tempting. Her Bran most of all. With everything that happened she barely had the time to ask for news about him. She knew of the pain of course. She knew of her son's determination to walk as far as he could day after day despises his leg and everything else.

She was proud of her little boy. So young, so brave. She was so proud of him and it pained her to be away from him in such a way. In a time like this even… But could she really in good conscience abandon her oldest son who was about to risk his life, not only on the battlefield but South, where politics and intrigue were all that mattered? Could she let him stagger and fall and stumble surrounded by the snake that sneaked in the grass in such lands? Where there was no snow to repel them, no wind to blow them away like she learned it did back North.

She had grown up in such a place. Even safe in her father keep, she had always known, from as far as she could remember, the dangers of politics, of court, and those who wished to play the game. Her Robb didn't know any of that. He was brave and loyal and good just like his father. And his father had been killed by the snakes in the grass. She couldn't let him fight this alone. She knew a way of surviving in those lands he had no idea of.

She knew how this game was played.

In the end, she knew there was no decision to take. No choice to make. For it had been made for her. She couldn't abandon him. She couldn't let those damned Lannister trick her boy into their tortured games of power. She couldn't protect him on the battlefield, but she could do it out of it. Where there was other weapon than a sword or a bow.

Maester Luwin was more than capable of taking care of the children. Of her Bran and Rickon. Besides he could help Bran in way she couldn't. No one would be there for Robb with her gone.

She would not abandon her son.

She told him so the following evening. She did not expect his reaction.

"It is not your place Mother." He said strongly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it means. You are my Mother and I respect you. But it is not your place to make those decisions. Not here."

"Robb you are young and-"

"And as long as you'll be here I will be seen as nothing else but a boy playing at war while his mother watches over him!"

What?

"Father is dead." He said grimly. "I am Lord of Winterfell now, Warden of the North. And I called the banners to lead the war against the Lannister. I can not be seen as a boy. You can not cuddle me or hide me behind your skirt Mother."

"This is not about that Robb I know how things work here! I know politics and-"

"And you think I don't? Do you think I don't know I will have to play their games here? Who do you take me for Mother?" he said, looking insulted.

Catelyn didn't get it. Why would he felt such a way? It did not make any kind of sense. Of course, he couldn't know she never taught him. Who could have taught him if not her? How could he know?

"How could you know? You grew up in the North! The politics there have nothing to do with how things work down here." She explained impatiently.

Why couldn't he understand?

"I know that."

"No, you-"

"Mother!" he cut her sternly. "I know what to expect from the South. I have been raised to be Warden of the North, that makes me part of the politics ruling the Seven Kingdoms," he said slowly. " Father- Father taught me my whole life, prepared me for that! For this role. I spend days, weeks, locked up in Winterfell's library to prepare myself. For politics, for war, for everything I could put my hands on!"

"I understand that Robb, but reading, or being taught something is different than leaving it. Experiencing it."

"I am no child Mother!" he boomed. "You can not treat me like a child and expect from me to lead an army! I do not need you here. Not like Bran and Rikon need you."

"Robb-"

"I said my part, Mother." He cut her again. "I said it when you joined us, I said it when we reached the Twins, I said it again when we freed Riverrun. Your place is at Winterfell, with Bran and Rikon. I promised to send you there would I cross you on the road. I will not be made a liar by my own Mother."

Catelyn felt the rage burn her lungs. The frustration, the anger. How could he be so blind? So proud not to see the dangers he was slowly going in? How could he let his- his- foolishness cloud his judgment? He was but a child still! Green as the grass of fresh rained Spring fields.

Stubborn child!

"We will talk about this Robb Stark." He threatened, her cheeks warm with all her emotions bubbling inside her.

"We have talked Mother. I won't be moved further." He answered.

She left his tent, knowing quite well that nothing would move him. He was so much like his Father… How many times had she stormed out of her Ned's solar after another endless discussion about the bastard? How many times had they argued about one thing or another? How many times did she have to abandon the talk, knowing she couldn't win?

Stubborn Starks. The lot of them. She should have expected it, she thought later. All of her children were stubborn. Even her sweet Sansa. Of course, he would want to prove himself. Her boy. Even if she didn't want to admit it, to herself or anyone else, he was growing. Sooner or later he was going to become the man he was always supposed to be. There was nothing she could do about that. She couldn't protect him from adulthood.

That night, she hoped to think about all of this, their discussion, what she planned to do about this war…

But the Lords decided otherwise.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Robb

He was in the middle of his army, surrounded by Northern Lords and the few Riverlords just freed with the break of the siege of Riverrrun. They were dining, all gathered in the courtyard of Riverrrun, with the sound of the rivers on their back. It felt strange, how such a place could feel so peaceful to him. He was of the North, he grew up there and up till now, it had been all he ever knew. But there was something calming about this place.

Maybe it was because he was born there. It was hard to picture it sometimes. The Rebellion, Father fighting a war. His Mother waiting for him day after day, her belly growing slowly with him. Now that he had seen the place, he could picture it. And at the same time, it felt like another world. Like it happened to other people.

Everything felt numb and confusing and-

And Father was dead. His Father…

He felt numb. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't grieve him now. Not in the middle of this night and not while all those lords were gathered around him, feasting on their recent victory.

The Whispering Woods… The Green Fork…

It had been such a day… The Plan had been hard to make, harder than what he expected first. He had needed to be smart, and quick about this. He couldn't just throw his armies into Tywin Lannister and hope for the best.

Even with the twenty thousand men at his back, he was no match with the Lannister and their almost 50 thousand. And Tywin Lannister was a seasoned Warrior. He would have been foolish to meet him in an open field while his army was at its prime. Instead, he locked himself up with several of his Lords and they talked.

It didn't take long for them to realize their need to lure the old lion if they wanted to accomplish anything. They had to make him think he was going to go to him while he would instead reach Riverrrun and Jaime Lannister. Even though the Kingslayer was known to be almost as good as his Father, or at least, would be with a couple of more years under his belt, Robb still preferred to confront him.

The thing was, even if his army was of a rather decent size, every life mattered. He needed to take care of that and to think carefully of what he could do to prevent the almost inevitable carnage that would result in his slowly forming strategy.

Then he thought of Kyria and her books, and their discussions in the Godswood, all three of them learning precious lessons at their father's feet.

He remembered that day when Kyria had talked about war and the different ways to make it. Humankind seemed very gifted in the way of killing its own. They talked of the North, the South, of Dorne and the Rhoynar, of Aegon and his conquest, and, after a time, of Essos and its different warriors. He couldn't say why but his brain stopped on one type of fighter, and one story.

The century of blood and the ascension of the Dothraki people over the cities left after the Doom of Valerya. How it was told they were so skilled on their horses, they could charge, then retreat only to charge again. Like an endless see of steel and blood. Unstoppable. And deadly. Only the Unsullied succeed in stopping the carnage.

It made him think. They had no Dothraki of course, but several houses in the North were known for their cavalry. The Ryswell for example, or some of the Manderly, to only think of some. So he planned. With the precious help of Lord Manderly, he united 2 thousand horsed warriors, and informed them of their mission.

It was unusual for sure, but Robb was far from being arrogant enough to think no one ever thought to use such a technique in Battle before. Nor was he truly confident with the idea. It was dangerous after all and needed to be planned wisely. So, with the help of Lord Rysell and Lord Manderly, again, he planned.

For this tactic to be efficient they needed to attack the flanks of Tywin's army. Maester Luwin often enough reminded him of how the cavalry was never fit for a frontal assault. And, even if this was inspired by the Dothraki who did it often enough, their horsemen were far from being as skilled on a horse.

So he chooses to cut his two thousand cavalries in two large groups. Each group would act as a wave crushing the Lannister before going back to hide behind the second wave and so on. 500 hundred on the right, and 500 hundred on the left. It was important for them to move. Always move. Never stop their horses or climb down from it. The horses themselves had been protected as well as they could so they wouldn't fall to the first arrow. To protect them as much as they could, Robb and Lord Manderly had mounted two thousand shields on the back of every man planned for the attack. The biggest risk with their strategy had been the archers. With shield on their back, they could maybe retreat more safely. They had done as much as they could, without damaging the plan. But even with all of this, Robb knew most of those men could not come back from it.

So he fetched four other men, whose task would be to horn the retreat as soon as the attack on Jaime Lannister was done. He needed to spare as many lives as possible. When the time was good, Robb would call Greywind for the signal, who would howl to the sky. The first men would burst the horn, and when heard, the second one, farther would do the same. And so on until the Green fork and the two thousand there.

The idea had not been well met by his lords. Most thought him naïve and optimistic for wanting to spare his men's lives.

"This is war boy! What do you think is going to happen on the battlefield! Men dies all the time! If you can not stomach it, then go home and leave real men to fight for you!" had ranted lord Glover, his hands waving around his head to prove his point.

"Call me boy again…" he had groaned.

The threatening groan of Greywind on his back had made the man back up a couple of steps. Other were not that easily convinced.

"You won't be able to do anything if you're scared of a couple of death boy!" had boomed Lord Umber.

"And it is not because I fight a war that I must stop caring for my people! We are into this conflict for gods know how long! Every life saved is a victory to me!"

The discussion ended up there. On the morrow, they made their move.

To everyone surprise, him included, his plan worked. Tywin Lannister was fooled by the cavalry, and Jaime Lannister by his own impatience and the darkness of the Whispering Woods. Soon, the battle was over and the Golden Lion himself chained by his feet and Greywind was howling for the retreat of the cavalry.

To see those men come back, more than half of them unharmed if not slightly wounded filled him with more pride than anything else ever did. He could have walk on clouds at the sound of the first horses galloping toward them.

Then the news came. The ravens. And his Mother.

And now, here he was, silently trying to process the death of his Father, for whom he started a war, while around him, his bannermen were discussing the said war, and what was supposed to be done now.

His Mother's raven had not been the only one arriving. Stannis Baratheon, the late King younger Brother had wrote to the entire Kingdoms, relating a tale of incest and Bastard, accusing Joffrey Baratheon to be the product of the Queen cockblocking her late husband with none other than her own twin.

The tale, scandalous on its own lightened a fire inside Robb he never knew before. Since the first time, he saw the royal family he had distrusted them. The Queen, the Prince, even the King. Kyria's dreams and her reaction when they first entered the courtyard of Winterfell hadn't help. He remembered her hand trembling against his cloak, her face, white and frozen in a painfully neutral expression. He didn't even know how she did it. But the fear behind her eyes, just an inch too large to truly look neutral was real and still vivid in his mind.

But knowing what he knew now… It was worse than anything he could have imagined. This was a mess. And now the Bastard had killed his Father.

And his sisters were locked up in this blasted city, prisoner to Cersei Lannister and her blasted offspring. He needed to free them. But he couldn't. Not like that. The North once started a war for Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark. To avenge their death. No matter how many times his mother had love to remind them that Father had fought a war for Lyanna Stark, truly it only had been once his own father and brother had been killed that the North took part in the conflict.

When Arys threatened Father too…

All to say, he could not fight a war only for his sisters. It may be enough for him, but his lords might not agree. Not all of them. It was how they worked.

He needed a purpose. He needed a reason to keep on fighting and to free the girls. But what? He was proud of his victory against the Lannister, he was happy to know how little they had lost. But it gave him very little room to act now. He had to wait for the Lannister or Joffrey to move.

His Father death could support this fight for a time. And he was quite content to keep on going in the name of his revenge. But it couldn't hold it if this war lasted too long. Which was a strong possibility.

Maybe support Stannis claim? He was the heir after all, with Robert dead with no true born son or daughter, there was no one else to inherit the crown. Whatever Renly could think.

Just as he thought about it, one of the Riverlords starts talking about Renly.

"… fealty to King Renly and road South to pledge our forces with him!"

Robb watched the man. He was passing in front of them, with a grand gesture and a strong voice. He wanted attention. Robb was in no place to speculate why, but he couldn't let him say that.

"Renly is no King." He boomed.

Immediately protestation started. No one liked Stannis Baratheon, and no one was eager to pledge for him. But…

"That does not make Renly King." He said again when the pompous Lord protested and proposed a pledge to Joffrey.

As if.

The conversation would have kept on going for hours, if not for Lord Umber, who suddenly stood, silencing everyone around him with his tall stature, and loud voice. Robb watched as the large man rejected both Stannis and Renly.

His stomach twisted suddenly as the man started ranting. He felt the world slow down around him, a strange feeling coating his belly with apprehension. What was happening… Something was happening. With every word, Lord Umber seemed to add to the atmosphere. He couldn't even crack a smile at the mention of the gods.

Every other sound was hollow to him. There was nothing. No one around him. Just this man, who now was looking at him. Solemn. Solemn and serious. His heartbeat was loud and strong. Steady. How could it be when everything else seemed to panic in his mind.

In the silence of the moment, a quiet whisper kissed his ear. Carried by the familiar voice of his sister. The last word she said to him.

We know no King…

The sound of the sword pulled out of its sheath didn't chase it. His eyes found Umber's, his heart carving a mark right outside his chest. So strong and powerful it could have burst right out, leaving him there, powerless and lifeless. He couldn't even wonder what was happening. To him or inside him. Nothing made sense.

"There! Sit the only King I mean to bend my knee to."

We know no King…

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

He stood, while Greatjon kneeled. His heart was stronger even. Faster. His mind was numb. Many things, too many to stop to only one. This was happening, this couldn't be, this could go so wrong at so many levels, how could they make this work, there were too many things to think about and Winter was coming and-

But nothing lasted in his head.

Already things were happening around him.

"Am I your brother, now and always?" asked Theon.

His eyes found him, behind the two lords already kneeling in front of him -how could this happen why was it happening what was he supposed to do, this was so complicated suddenly- he was solemn like all the others, and Robb couldn't think.

The words echoed inside his head. Brother. No and always. Always. Always…

He said it. He must have. For a second later, Theon was at his feet too.

We know no King, but the King in the North…

"My Sword is yours. In Victory and defeat. From this day, until my last Day."

"The King in the North!"

THE KING IN THE NORTH!

THE KING IN THE NORTH!

THE KING IN THE NORTH

He let it happen. As if someone else was crowned. Not him. His mind stayed numb all the way through the ceremony. As people around him kept shouting it. Louder and louder. The Lords, then the soldier, then everyone. From one side of the camp, Greywind's howl resonated into the night, joining the voices.

His heart started speeding then. His eyes searching for someone in the crowd. He didn't know who. He didn't understand.

Something clicked in his head. In the middle of the confusion that was his thought, something clicked.

She knew.

We know no King, but the King in the North…

THE KING IN THE NORTH!

… Whose name is Stark.

She knew. Kyria knew.

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He fled.

There was no other way to put it. As soon as he could do it, he fled. He hides himself in his room inside Riverrun and stayed there, against the door.

It happened.

King in the North.

How?

How could this end up this way? How could he become a King? Why? Why him?

We know no King, but the King in the North whose name is Stark.

Stark. He was Lord Stark now. He was supposed to inherit his father's legacy. He was his Father's legacy now.

The idea shocked him to the core. He hadn't even taken the time to mourn his father correctly, choosing instead to bury the pain inside him to concentrate on his situation and the War he had started fighting. Thinking naively that he could still do that later.

Now though… Now he felt he should have taken the time. Just so that now the news of his situation wouldn't crush him so much right now.

We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark.

Stark. Stark. He couldn't get it out of his head. Stark. Whose name is Stark.

He was King because he was a Stark. He was leading a rebellion against the Seven Kingdoms because he was a Stark.

Of course, it had a place in all of this. It was his family who was attached. His sisters, held in Kingslanding. But it was because it concerned his family. Not because his name was Stark or bound on his honor to fight the Lannisters just for the principle of the thing.

But this. This was something else.

We know no King, but the King in the North whose name is Stark.

The Stark name. It was his name who just gave him a crown. How was he supposed to deal with this? He had been raised to be a Lord, to rule Winterfell before anything else. How was he supposed to be a King? To rule an entire Kingdom? No matter what they could think or tell. Ruling as Lord Paramount of the North and King is the North sounded different. Very, very different.

He remembered the anxiety he felt when he first took the mantel of Lord of Winterfell, back when Father left. How inadequate he had felt, locked up in this role everyone had destined him. Forced to wear his father's boots for the good of the family he still had at home and the keep that had been left in his care.

It had felt insurmountable. He had felt small, inadequate, childish. Useless, to carry such a burden.

It was nothing compared to this.

King in the North.

How was he supposed to be King? How was he supposed to lead people when he barely knew where he was going now?

He was lost. He was lost and alone and thrown in a place he had no idea what to do with.

We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark.

It was all so unfair. He didn't want that, he never had.

But they didn't give him any choice… They named him. He had the title now, he couldn't go without it.

I should have say no. I should have.

We know no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark.

It sounded like a curse. Why did that have to sound like a curse?

He would have panicked for a long time, if not for the knock on his back.

"Robb?"

Mother…

Mother!

The door was opened before he even thought about it. His trembling hands pressed the door close, his head knocking against it.

"Robb…" she said again, her voice waiving with emotion.

Her hands were close to her mouth, trembling. He felt the muscle of his jaw work with the pressure he put to keep his mouth close.

"Oh, my boy…" she said.

She wrapped him in her arms. He let her do it, his face pushed against the crook of his mother's neck. He closed his eyes succumbing a moment to the need for familiar comfort.

It lasted a moment. A painful, wonderful moment.

Then he pulled back.

Her hands were away. And Robb found a smile. It moved something inside him.

We know no King...

A curse.

"I'm so proud of you my son…" she said, pushing back his curls from his forehead.

"You know?" he started, stupidly. Of course, she knew. With how ended their last conversation, there wasn't much to be proud of for her right now.

Except her son being made King.

Cursed. Cursed name. Cursed place. He didn't want it. He didn't. He didn't want that he-

"The entire camp know by now. The screams could have been heard all the way back to Winterfell if they had lasted longer." she said tearfully.

"All the way back to the Red Keep too…" he answered.

Her smile grew bigger. He felt numb. Why that smile? Couldn't she understand?

Cursed, cursed, cursed name. Cursed place. Cursed time. Cursed, cursed, cursed-

"Yes. If you Father could-" she stopped herself, realizing that, what they've heard about Father was still true.

Him being King in the North didn't change a thing for his father. Or sisters. Or family.

It only made them more complicated.

"He would have been so proud." she said finally.

Would he? Could he? Father had been close to the last King, he put him on the throne. King in the North meant rebellion. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. Robb wasn't proud. The name meant nothing. Nothing but curse, curse He didn't want it. He didn't want any of it. Why him? Why did it have to be him? He didn't want that he-

"Thank you, Mother." his body said.

His eyes burned. But he didn't cry.

Why?

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On the Morrow, he came out of his room like nothing happened. Clean washed and stone-faced. The King in the North.

Immediately he went back to planning his war. What else could he do ?

He found his bannermen and locked them up with him in what he used as a War room.

Almost immediately the subject of his new Kingdom was approached. The Riverlord, who hadn't knelt the night before were now talking about doing it just so. Of course, they did.

The situation had its do and don't.

The North on its own could not last long, with Winter coming and the theory who warn them of a Winter even Longer than the Summer they had, he will need all the food he could gather for his people.

But on the other end, take one of the seven Kingdoms for himself was one thing. On its own, it was already dangerous enough. Especially with the tales of how Lannisters liked to deal with Rebellions. That this Kingdom was the North already leveled one complication. It was the largest. Half the entire territory. A very important place for the Winters to come, with its wood and its furs. It could easily save lives. They would never let go of that. Not easily.

But to take the Riverlands as well… that was another problem entirely. That would be asking for trouble. On so many levels.

First: too many fertile lands. Useful for him and his Northen Kingdom, full of snow and harsh lands. But also useful for the crown and their half million people they needed to fed in their blasted city.

Second: too close to home for comfort. If they reached the very end of the Riverlands, and Harrenhall, it put them way too close of Kingslanding and the siege of power. Too easy to come and get them if things go wrong. And, let's be honest: things were awfully wrong.

Third: that made two out of five Kingdom in open Rebellion with the crown. Two Kingdoms who already led a successful rebellion against the crown less than twenty years ago. It was too similar to the last situation for not thinking about it.

And lastly, the North coupled with the Riverlands were bigger in surface than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Too much power. Over many things.

They were never going to let that happen. Knowing what he knew about Tywin Lannister and the rest of his wonderful family -which, to be frank, was not much- he would never let that happen.

So, when his uncle announced his desire to pledge allegiance to him and declare him King, over the Trident and the Riverlands in adding to the North, Robb didn't know what to say. He knew he couldn't just say yes. Even though, like the King in the North thing, he could not really say no either. He ran fast over all the possibilities opened to him. All the complications that one wrong word could bring.

When he opened his mouth, he'd never been so scared of his own voice.

"I am touched, uncle, by your devotion to our cause, and I would gladly accept your vow, but I must ask you to consider it carefully first."

Edmure's delighted smile froze on his face.

"Your Grace?"

Robb bites back a wince. He hated that title. Really hated it.

"I do not say I would refuse your plea, my Lord," he said. Quickly. Think Robb, think. He couldn't allow himself to insult his own blood. He couldn't. But to say yes- He needed to think. Quickly. Quickly.

"I only wish to say, the North in its entirely named me King. I could not in good conscience accept less from the Riverlords."

Yes. Yes, good start.

"What do you mean your Grace?" asked Maege Mormont from a corner of the room.

"What I just said my lady. If you wish to pledge the Riverlands to me Uncle, I would accept the entire Riverlords, not just one to think for them all." He stood, his confidence growing with each word out of his mouth. He could do this. He could. "We are talking about freedom my Lords. The freedom to chose who will rule us. The North had chosen. Together. I won't accept anything less for the Riverlords, who still as we speak are half taken by the Lannisters. We will free your country Uncle, then we will talk again about pledge and Kings."

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!" called someone in the back.

Others whispered it, the words floating around Robb's head like priers to a god. Robb had to stop himself from reacting in any way. His jaw stuck in one expression, his eyes set on the face of the closest Lord. Lord Glover. The last thing he wanted today was another round of calls and cries in the night.

"You want an entire Kingdom to add to the one you already have."

This quiet voice could only belong to one person. One quick look only confirmed what he already knew. Roose Bolton had taken the chair close to him. Closer than Robb had expected. Which explained why that quiet voice was so close. And sounded louder than usual. Robb took the time to look at the other Lord. Expression carefully composed.

"I want this Kingdom to be free from a war it didn't want. I won't accept a vow made unknowingly Lord Bolton. If, when this is all over, the Riverlords still want me as a King, we will discuss it. Not before."

He wasn't very hopefully. At this rate, all the Riverlords will follow the North. He didn't want it. He didn't-

"You are either ambitious or naive your Grace."

Leech.

"I am careful, Lord Bolton. Taking One Kingdom from the crown is one thing. That title had been given to me and I can't change it. But to take another one, so soon after the first would he suicide. I refuse to endanger my men more than what Wartime demand."

The man didn't look convinced. Robb felt his stomach drop at the intensity of those eyes following him. He didn't like him.

Lord Karstark made a comment about their following move and Robb broke eye contact. A cold feeling running on his back. He needed to keep an eye on the guy.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Why was he even there?

He hadn't thought about it. To be honest he tried very hard not to think about anything.

One day in the War room with every single person cooing "your grace" every time he opened his mouth was more than enough for his sanity. His head was full, there was still way too many things to think about, plans to make, letters to write. Too many things, not enough time and he definitely didn't feel brave enough to think about it for more than one moment.

Part of him wanted to curl in a corner of the corridor and hide there, like a child, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't. No one needed to see him cower in a corner like a little boy.

He went for his room instead.

On the way through, he changed his mind. He couldn't say why, or what he was even thinking. He just thought about the Lannister locked up in the dungeon, and felt the need to go see him.

He knew, of course, of his Mother's theory about him. Even more so with the letter Stannis Baratheon had sent them. He wanted answers. But there was more than that.

Jaime Lannister was the only person known to Robb, who had been part of Kyria's dreams. If he excluded Bran, for the boy had been mentioned only once, and, with what happened… Well, Robb was tempted to think this prediction had been realized by now. Unfortunately.

He wanted to see the man. To talk to him. To see if somehow he could understand, or catch something in him that could explain why his sister dreamed about him.

Honestly, he could take anything if it meant understanding a bunch more all of this nonsense.

So, here he was, in the middle of a corridor, thinking this through.

"The King in the North!" mocked a voice, far in the cells.

How did he-

The corridor. With the light of the torches, he must have seen him coming.

He didn't have much choice then… With a repressed sigh and his frustration in check, Robb took the last steps to the man locked up in his cell.

He was still dirty from the battle, his face full of dirt, and slowly covered with a growing beard. His feline-like eyes followed him. He looked like a cat. A Mountain Lion or something similar.

"The King in the North!" he said again, his head bobbling right and left. His tone mocking.

"Kingslayer."

"And to what do I own the honor of such company on this fine evening?" he said.

In the darkness of the cell, those green eyes seemed brightened by the light of the torches.

Robb watched him, and he had no idea how to answer that. He didn't know what to say. How could he even start a discussion like that? 'Hello there, my sister dreamed about you, care to tell me why?'

Way to go. He was completely going to answer him.

So he babbled something else, vaguely mentioning his little brother and what happened to him. Lannister blinked slowly, his brows frowning up his eyes.

"Your brother? What is it about him? Wait, no, don't answer that. I don't care. Your family is your business boy." he snorted, bobbling his head again. Back and forth, like he had changed his mind in the middle of the move. "Which one is it again? The cripple or the baby? Or the bastard? I know you have a bastard brother. Did I killed him or something? I don't remember all of my kills you know, so many of them. Why are you blaming me for then boy?"

"Who said anything about blame?"

… Well, technically he thought about it. But still. Technicalities of the art of conversation.

Or something like that.

The Kingslayer snorted.

"Why else would you come to me to talk about your brother. You didn't answer boy!" he kicked one leg, like he wanted to kick him with it but couldn't reach him. "Which one it is?"

"Bran."

The man blinked. Robb felt his teeth creak inside his mouth.

" The one who got burned." he said.

"Ooh, the cripple then. Interesting. What was the question again? Why should I care about your crippled brother?"

Robb took a moment to remind himself that anger was rarely the solution to a problem. Or a conversation. Or a particularly annoying prisoner.

Calm.

"Did you try to kill him? You or your family?"

The man blinked again. Slowly. Like a cat.

"If I had tried to kill your little brother he would be dead."

"But you're not the only Lannister. Nor were you the only one coming to Winterfell."

"What are you saying boy?"

"I'm asking. Why would your family want to kill a little boy? Twice?"

He snorted

"Twice? Now you're truly gone boy." he laughed. "Why would we want the death of a child?"

"You tell me."

He blinked again. Bobbled his head once more, and Robb could swear his patience was snapping inside him. Like a whip against some skin.

"Don't know." he said finally. "Don't really care either."

He wanted nothing more than punching the man right on his stupid face. But it would have given him nothing.

He persisted.

"When you were at Winterfell, my brother climbed the Broken Tower and was caught by my sister, right before he reached the window." The man blinked again, and moved. Why? " Kyria said she saw something. At the window. Then, not a sennight later, my brother is injured and escape death only by a miracle."

"Are you telling me a story now boy? Don't you have other things to do? Not that I complain, my jailer doesn't like to talk much and I am easily bored."

"After your depart." he cut him. "A cutthroat tried to kill my little brother. With a dagger. Of Valeryan Steel and Dragon bone."

If it meant something to him, he didn't show. Annoying.

"So, I am asking again, Lannister. What could he have seen in that tower, or heard, that would make you want to kill him?"

The man lost all trace of his mocking smile. His face was hard and, dared he say, almost angry. Robb didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

He waited for the answer. Expecting a jest or an insult. He got none.

"If I had wanted to kill someone, you wouldn't have wondered who did it." he said calmly. "I don't care for cutthroat or sellsword. I want someone dead, I do it myself."

"Do you?"

Jaime Lannister's face twisted into something feral. He bared his teeth and pulled the chain on his neck.

"Who do you take me for boy?" he growled. "I do my own kills. If you need to trust something about me, trust that. No one does the dirty work for me."

"No, no. You do the dirty work for others. Like the Mad King."

The clang of the chains was almost brutal. Furious glint momentarily brightened the man's face. He opened his mouth, showing all his teeth, and for one second, Robb thought of Greywind. He did that too. When he wanted to bite.

But then, as soon as it started, it was over. The Kingslayer fell back against his wall and bobbled his head. Knocking it on the hard stones. He smiled again. It looked almost as dangerous as his twisted expression one moment prior.

"You know nothing boy. Don't pretend you do."

Robb looked at him a moment longer. But the Kingslayer kept his mouth shut. Surprisingly. He challenged him with defiant eyes, but that was it.

Robb would have loved nothing more than threatening the answers he wanted right out of that throat. But he refused to torture the man. He never believed that torture could really give answers. Hurt long enough, a man would confess anything. Was it true or not.

"We aren't over Kingslayer."

The man smiled again. His white teeth shining under the dancing light of the torches.

Robb turned his back on the man and took the direction of his rooms. Against his breast, the letter Kyria had sent him almost burned, in his need to read it again. He needed her advice. Now more than ever before. He wished he could talk to her. Just one moment.

He wanted to ask so many things. But she was far from his reach. Prisoner like Sansa and Arya, at the mercy of a pathetic little boy, crazy enough to kill his most valuable hostage, and stupid enough to do it publicly.

On his heels, his Direwolf's large paw fell in line, his breath loud and harsh. Robb let his hand fall against the massive back, his eyes focused on the path opened to him.

He needed to save them.

He had to. He couldn't do this alone.

TBC.

NOTE: So? Verdict?

I am very not sure about this one, to be honest. It was difficult to write for me, just like the last one with Robb really. I need them to plant my decor for the next book (yes it's coming!) but I am not enjoying them very much...

For the part where I explain Robb's plan... I will warn you there: I KNOW NOTHING OF MILITARY MANOEUVRES AND I AM NO EXPERT WHATSOEVER!

What I did there was an Idea I got reading the History of the World of Game of Throne and a very self indulgent idea I had in my mind to help Robb as much as I can in becoming the man I want him to be. I have no idea if this is actually doable or even if this could work. SO DONT SHOOT!

Rhm.

Sorry.

The part with Catelyn was very hard for me, like the part with Cersei had been. I don't like them very much (i already said that did I?) and I have a lot of struggle writing them without bias. I wanted to show Catelyn as a worried mother who doesn't know how to help her son but is decided to still do so. Even if it's not the right choice as we all know!

As for Robb, well I always found hard to believe how easily he accept his new title. I mean I don't know, I think for someone as young as he is, in his situation with his father death and his sister's capture, he would be a bit more frightened by the idea of MORE RESPONSABILITIES on his back.

I mean, someone trembling at the idea of a War wouldn't just accept a crown without freaking out at least a little. So I made him panic. But then I don't know, did I do too much?

Tell me everything my wonderful readers!

And guess what?! Only ONE CHAPTER LEFT! Yay!

Or, well, 1 chapter and something slightly like an Epilogue. But still, THIS BOOK IS ALMOST OVER!

That's so weird to think about... I had been on this for so long now... 2 years of planning coming to an end soon... So weiiird

ANyway, next chapter we will go deal with our Other troubles... Ya know, the only ones that should really matters... And we will see some of the changes I made already!

Hope you liked that!

See ya!