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Robb VI

Robb sat with his council, which now included additions such as his mother, Theon, and Jon. At the other end of the table, nearly shaking with nervousness, was a messenger from King's Landing. He wore red and gold clothing, with Joffrey's idiotic sigil of a prancing stag and lion facing each other on his tunic. In his hands, he fiddled with scroll.

The council had been a rushed affair. Robb had just finished a conversation with his mother where the two had argued about Jon and his inclusion in the army. Catelyn had warned Robb to be wary of him, but Robb had waved aside her concerns. The young stark had also informed his mother he was the commander in charge of the army, and that if anyone came looking for him, she had no place to have them detained.

Overall, it had been a tough conversation for Robb to have with his mother, but he knew he needed to have it with her. She had always treated Jon with cold politeness, and Robb made sure she knew that it was still expected. She did not have to like Jon, but she had to treat him with respect. Robb needed them both if he wanted to win this war.

When she had brought up the idea that Jon was a deserter, Robb had waved that aside too, reminding his mother that Jon was raised by Eddard Stark. He had been taught to hold to his oaths, just as Robb and all his siblings had as well. If Jon said he wasn't a deserter then that was enough for Robb. He had also raised the point that Samwell Tarly had made, adding that Jon and Sam had stopped at numerous northern castles on their way south and weren't killed for deserting.

Their conversation had ended when Theon had told Robb that there was a messenger from King's Landing waiting for him. That had been when Robb had called his council to hear what the man had to say.

"What does Joffrey want?" Robb asked gruffly, glaring at the man.

The man gulped nervously, glancing around the table before opening his scroll, clearing his throat. The man knew that he was in the proverbial lion's den. Or Wolf den in his case.

"By order of His Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the…." he started before the Greatjon interrupted him.

"Get on with it man. We don't give two shits about the boy's titles," he growled.

The man nodded quickly, his eyes glancing fearfully at the giant man before looking back at his scroll. "His….King Joffrey has sent me to inform Robb Stark that his father, Eddard Stark, has been beheaded for treason against his lawful king. Furthermore, House Stark is no longer recognized as Lord Paramounts or Wardens of the North, and are hereby stripped of Winterfell and their lordly status." the man said, working hard to keep his voice from quivering. For his entire life, the messenger had been told that Northmen were savages, and he was fearing that the news of Eddard Stark's death might send them into a frenzy.

The news hit the group like an avalanche. Lady Stark choked back a sob as she leaned on her uncle, who had taken the news with grim sadness. The other lords were in various states of grief. The Northmen held their anger in check, their grief turning to fury while the lords of the Riverlands looked at each other with sad glances. Even Jon and Theon, who had never gotten along, shared a pale, mournful look. Eddard Stark had treated them both like sons, and they felt the loss just as deeply as Robb did.

Robb's glare broke as the news washed over him. He struggled to keep his composure. He slowly stood, slamming his fist on the table. "Get the hell out of here," he growled. "Tell Joffrey that if he wants to take my home, then he can pick up a sword and face me on the battlefield."

The messenger bowed slightly and nearly ran from the room, eager to be away from the angry northern king and his men. When he was gone, Robb sunk back into his chair, still struggling to keep tears back.

"What do we do now?" Ser Marq Piper asked quietly to no one in particular.

"We should declare for a king." Lord Bracken offered sadly. "Renly is the best option. He has the support of the Reach and the Stormlands."

"Don't be daft." Lord Blackwood shot back. "Stannis is the only lawful claimant to the throne. The younger brother can not inherit the throne before his older brother."

Slowly, the riverlords became embroiled in a debate of which king to support. Renly or Stannis? Finally, a roar brought the argument to a halt as the Greatjon erupted from his seat, slamming his fists on the table.

"Who gives a fuck about some southern king?" he declared angrily. "What do they know of me and my kin? Of the harsh winter that my people suffer through while he sits on some pointy throne under the sun! What do they know of the Wolfwood or the Wall? Even their Gods are wrong!" he shouted. The large lord drew his sword and pointed it at Robb. "There sits the only man I'm willing to bend my knee to. Robb Stark! The King in the North!" he said, kneeling before Robb.

Lord Rickard stood next. "Aye, the Greatjon has the right of it. Why take another king when we can have one of our own!" he said, drawing his sword. "The King in the North!"

Theo stood next. "Am I your brother? Now and forever?" he asked.

Robb nodded. "Now and forever," he answered firmly.

Theon drew his sword and knelt next to the Greatjon and Karstark. "My sword is yours, in victory and defeat," he promised.

One by one, the other lords knelt before Robb, swearing their loyalty to him as the King in the North. Robb watched them all with a steady gaze, not sure how to react to their declarations. Finally, Jon was the only one still sitting.

He stood up slowly, looking at his brother. "I traveled across the North to be by your side. There is no man in all of Westeros more deserving of the crown," he said, drawing his sword. "You have my sword, my life, and my undying loyalty," he said before taking a knee.

The Greatjon took up the call once more. "The King in the North!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Line Break

It had been a few days since Robb had been declared king, and in that time, a few changes had happened. A crown had been crafted by the blacksmith at Riverrun based on a description found in the castle's library. A circlet of bronze with runes of the first men carved into the metal. Nine black iron spikes in the shape of longswords were surmounted on the bronze. It was beautifully crafted, the perfect crown for the king of the hardy and fierce Northmen.

Another thing that has changed was how people address Robb. Instead of 'my lord' or 'Lord Stark', more people had begun to refer to Robb as 'your grace' or 'my king'. It was a weird change that the young man was still getting used to. The only people who didn't refer to Robb by his titles were Jon, Theon, and his mother. But they only referred to Robb by name whenever they were in private.

Robb was slightly overwhelmed by it all, but he was quickly adjusting to the change. Thankfully, Theon and Jon still jested with him, just as they did when they were all still boys in Winterfell.

Now, Robb and his council were trying to decide what to do now that Lord Stark was dead. He had been the focal point of their war, and with him gone, they couldn't just sit at Riverrun with 37,000 men.

"The Lannisters think that they are untouchable," Edmure said, addressing the group. "I say we give them the same treatment they've given our people!"

Many of the riverlords and northern lords agreed with the passionate young lord, who was once again pushing for Robb to attack the Westerlands. This time, however, he had more support. Without Eddard Stark drawing them towards the capital, they were free to attack the gold and resource-rich Westerlands.

Robb looked at the Blackfish, who was watching his nephew with an exasperated look. The young king leaned over to the old knight while Edmure continued to press his case.

"Any reports from the Westerlands?" he asked.

Brynden nodded grimly. "There's a host assembling behind the Golden Tooth. That's all my men could find out," he said. "They must have stripped garrisons to the bone to make any sort of real army."

Robb frowned but nodded. He stood up, quickly taking the attention off his uncle and onto himself. He gazed at Edmure. "You make a good point, Uncle," he said easily. "The Mountain's actions will not go unpunished. But, I fear we can not win this war ourselves."

A roar of disapproval rose from the side of the table where the northern lords sat, but Robb raised his hand to calm them.

"Your grace, we have the advantage of numbers against the Lannisters." Lord Glover pointed out.

Robb nodded at him. "We do, but what about Stannis? What about Renly? We have no reason to go to war with them, and I have no wish to sit my arse on the Iron Throne." he explained. "We can hasten this war if we chose one of them to ally with. A southern king who will accept our independence."

"Your grace, Renly is the man you want." Lord Mallister said. "I've spoken with him many times. Stannis's will is like iron, he will not allow two kingdoms to succeed from Westeros. Renly is more likely to do so."

Robb looked around at his council. "Any argument against Lord Mallister's statement?" he asked.

"The man's a pillow-biter." Lord Bracken grumbled.

Robb shook his head. "I don't care about the man's sexual preferences, my lord. I care if he'll acknowledge our independence."

No one spoke up for Stannis or against Renly. And certainly not for Joffrey.

Robb nodded. "Then it's settled. We'll treat with Renly and come to terms. He can keep the Vale, the Reach, the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Iron Islands. The North and Riverlands are under my control."

"What of the Westerlands?" Lord Bolton asked.

Robb shook his head. "I haven't decided," he answered. "For now, any land we conquer, we keep."

A growl of approval went around the room. The prospect of keeping a portion of the gold-rich land was enticing to everyone.

"Who will treat with Renly?" Jon asked.

Robb thought for a moment before looking at the Blackfish. "Uncle, I am leaving you in charge of the men," he said. "Deal with the Lannister host and take the Golden Tooth. Anything after that, I leave to your judgment."

The Blackfish nodded firmly. "It will be done."

"What will you be doing your grace?" Lord Vance asked curiously.

"I will meet with Renly Baratheon and make sure we get our independence," Robb answered firmly.

"What about Tywin?" Jon asked.

Robb shook his head. "He can't move," he replied. "Not with both Stannis and Renly poised to strike at the capitol."

For a moment, Robb glanced at his right towards his mother, then he realized she wasn't there. Since the news of his father's death, she had become reclusive, only appearing to have meals with Robb and his commanders. Every other moment she spent in her room, the sept, or with her father. She had also taken to wearing black every day, mourning the loss of her husband. Robb had tried to consol her, but his attempts had been unsuccessful.

If Robb was truthful, his mother would have been his first choice to treat with Renly, but he couldn't send her away from her home, not when she needed to be here most. It fell on Robb to speak for his family and kingdom.

"When do you leave?" Lord Hawker asked.

"Tomorrow," Robb answered. "The sooner I can come to an agreement with Renly, the better."

"Your grace," Theon said, speaking up. "If I may, give me leave to go speak with my father. He has the greatest fleet in Westeros. We can crush the Westerlands between us."

Many on the council shifted in their seats, sending dark looks at the young ironborn. But Theon ignored them all and kept his eyes locked on Robb. The young monarch thought for a moment before nodding.

"Give your father an offer. If he rejects it, return to me. Do not waste your time or breath." Robb said.

Theon grinned. "Thank you, my lord," he said gratefully.

Robb smiled slightly and looked back at his council. "I'll take three guards with me. Smalljon, Dacey, and Olyvar. That'll be more than enough."

Jon looked up when he realized that Robb didn't say his name, but he didn't say anything.

"That will be all for today, my lords," Robb said. "If all goes well in the Reach, then this war will be over by the end of the year, and we will have avenged my father's wrongful death."