Robb
He remembered all the times of his boyhood that he had been told of the great castle of Moat Cailin. More like the great ruin, he thought, though it did not matter. The ruin was more than adequate for his purposes.
Seventeen thousand men, nineteen thousand with Lord Manderly's men, were at his command, there to obey his every whim, and more were coming. His outriders had reported that the levies from White Harbor were soon to arrive.
Robb looked out from the Gatehouse Tower over the castle below. He could see signs of the once great fortress that had fallen to disrepair.
When he had first laid eyes on the castle, he had thought to order it to be fully restored, especially after he had already ordered Jory to begin garrisoning it originally. But a look at the castle proved to push those thoughts aside, when considering how the castle would be perilously expensive to maintain when there were no lands to sustain a lordship.
Once there had been twenty great towers looming over the causeway, but now just three remained.
Greywind sat by the fire, while father's bannermen were filing in. No, my bannermen now, he realized suddenly, feeling it to be such a strange thought.
He looked around at those he had command of. Most he had grown familiar with already, but he still didn't feel he truly knew them.
There was his great-uncle, Ser Brynden, who he had given command of the outriders, and Jon, Aegon, Jory and Theon who Robb felt he could trust. Father's friend, Lord William Dustin stood a large figure, but Robb wondered just how much he could trust him. He had thought he had known Ser Helman and Lord Medger as well, but that was before he had been leading men to war, and there were few others he truly felt he knew.
The Greatjon was there, who had become his staunch champion after Greywind had taken his fingers. Roose Bolton stood there, with his cold pale eyes that made him so unsettling. Lord Galbart Glover, and his brother, Robett, was there. Lord Jorah Mormont, and Lady Maege Mormont, Lord Halys Cerwyn, Robin Flint, Lady Lyessa Flint's eldest son and heir, Lord Rickard Karstark, Lord Ryswell's quarrelsome sons, Roger, Rickard and Roose.
And there were two more men that were new to the council. Both wore the colors of House Manderly on their clothing. They were over forty if Robb had to place them to a day, and both men were quite obese, and had bald heads, though thick brown mustaches. He knew them to be Lord Wyman's sons, Ser Wylis and Wendel, though in truth he was even surprised that they had made the trip. He had not been sure who would come in command of the Manderly forces, but he had not expected it to be either Lord Wyman or his sons.
Robb increasingly found him ruing his choice to leave Ser Rodrik behind at Winterfell as Castellan. He needed men about him that he knew and trusted, but he needed someone at Winterfell he supposed. If holding the North had been a struggle for him in a time of peace, he doubted Myrcella would be able to do it when they were at war with her family.
Bleed lord Tywin to win mother and father's release. That's what he and Jon had decided. There was no other way.
"My lords," Robb began, before he adjusted the map a little after he had reread the letter.. "We have word from the south, the Kingslayer was able to defeat Lord Vance and Piper along the pass near the Golden Tooth. Lord Vance is slain, while Lord Piper has led the remaining men in retreat back towards Riverrun, while Lord Tywin has closed off the Kingsroad and is making North now, having crossed at the Ruby Ford.
And we have to march against them, he thought grimly. There was no choice, they simply couldn't feed the host in the Neck. He wished Aunt Lysa would answer their calls, but for each raven he had sent he had yet to receive any response.
"What would you have us do my lord?" Roose Bolton asked coldly.
Robb couldn't help but silently curse the man. They had debated for hours on what to do before they had known Lord Tywin had reached the Kingsroad, or Lord Vance had been defeated, but it didn't matter. All eyes were on him now.
"We march," he started. "Jory will remain here with command of three hundred men, mostly archers should someone think to attack the neck, and I have sent orders to Lord Howland that he and his crannogmen are to bleed the Lannisters all the way North should they make it this far." Father trusted Lord Howland, Robb knew, but he wasn't sure what it was worth now. If they should be beaten in battle though, the crannogmen would prove to be quite a useful deterrent for Lord Tywin to continue marching North.
Jory and a few of the others nodded, but he could see most still weren't impressed.
"We will split our forces. I will take our horse west towards Riverrun to join with my uncles and grandfather against the Kingslaye, while our foot will continue south along the Kingsroad. I have heard it that Lady Whent is gathering swords at Harrenhal, Our foot and the strength of Harrenhal ought to be able to crush Lord Tywin, especially if Aunt Lysa bestirs herself in the Vale, and he would have an army to the North, South and East." Robb explained to them. He would command the horse, he decided. He had to take the more dangerous command.
"You would split our force in two, my lord?" Lord Galbart asked cautiously. The Master of Deepwood Motte was a good man, loyal and true, Robb had noted, but not quite bold. Robb knew his brother, Ethan, better, who had been Uncle Brandon's squire once, and a companion to his Lord father for many years until he was slain by the Kingslayer in King's Landing.
"We would split at the Twins, and put a river between Lord Tywin and the Kingslayer. The only crossing North of the Ruby Ford is those Twins, which means they cannot give aid to one another. Lord Tywin won't be able to make North, so long as our host remains there, nor can he attempt to make his own crossing before then, and if he should go back south, men would name him craven. Whoever is in command there would be able to be cautious and find strong positioning to meet him under. And by joining with my mother's family at Riverrun, we can beat the Kingslayer there and rally the Riverlords to our cause," he said a little proudly.
The Smalljon gave quite the nod of approval, as did many of the others there, but the one he was most glad to see was that of his uncle, Brynden.
"You are sure you wish to trust Lord Walder Frey?" He was asked by some voice, though he didn't see who it came from.
"One of his grandsons is my squire, and another one of his sons is my companion. Two of his granddaughters are companions of my wife at Winterfell, as is one of his daughters, and two more grandsons were to be wards of my lady mother, but are still at Winterfell even if she is not. He's sworn to my grandfather too," Robb said a bit cautiously. He didn't know how much of a difference that would make to Lord Walder, but it was all he could say to assure them. Lord Walder had remained true to Lord Hoster during Robert's Rebellion, and even allowed father to cross at the Twins, though was late to the Trident with his forces.
"Who will have command of the foot?" His uncle asked.
Robb felt unsure. He looked around the table, paying each there a look in turn, thinking of what each was like. For a moment he thought to choose Lord Rickard, but thought otherwise. His uncle would've made a good choice Robb knew, but he needed Ser Brynden with him. Robb didn't truly know either of the Manderlys, nor did he feel it likely that his men would be likely to take orders from the likes of a Cerwyn or Glover..
He looked over to the fire place and saw that Ghost was resting with Greywind there, and Robb knew his choice.
"Jon will," he announced to them.
Had he said this when they had first arrived at Winterfell, he was sure the lords would have bellowed and protested vehemently to his decision, but now they remained silent. Perhaps it was Ghost that kept them quiet, but it didn't matter, just that they were. Jon was his brother, and they were not like to be speaking out against him on this.
He could see his uncle was eying Jon somewhat suspiciously, but the rest wore faces that left Robb unsure if they were his lords and bannermen or the stone lords in the Crypts beneath Winterfell.
"We will depart on the morrow," he told them, letting them know their meeting was at its end.
The lords began to leave one by one, led by Ser Helman Tallhart and Aegon. The Greatjon praised Robb as he left, while others just remained silent.
Everyone was gone, except for Jon. "Why did you choose me?" His brother asked him.
"Because you're a Stark. Maybe not in name, but certainly by blood. And you are my brother." Robb told him.
"I'm not a…" He began to say before his voice trailed off.
"I needed someone I can trust. They would never follow Theon or Aegon. I need Jory here. And I need Uncle Brynden with me," Robb reasoned.
"Jeyne needs me…" Jon replied. "I need her."
Robb looked at Jon, his grey eyes giving a hint of weakness Robb had rarely seen in him. Changing his mind wouldn't work though, not now.
"And I would've liked to be at Winterfell with Myrcella just now. We don't always get what we want," Robb said, feeling a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
He looked at the fire, where he saw both Greywind and Ghost were on their feet now, with Ghost even giving the faintest snarl. They both seemed ready to fight one another now.
Jon gave him an angry look, the angriest look he'd ever truly seen from Jon in all their years, before he left, taking Ghost with him.
First Daemon, now you, he thought bitterly as Jon was leaving, wondering how was next. It made him feel even more alone than he already was.
Robb sat down at the table, and saw that Greywind had come closer to him, nuzzling his leg. He pet Greywind's head softly, before he heard the door open and Ty stepped in.
He had not known what to do with Ty. His grandmother was Lord Tywin's sister, but he was loyal to a fault, and had begged Robb to bring him to war. He hadn't been able to attend Robb during his war councils, and he had nearly chosen to simply make Olyvar his squire, but he realized that if he made it clear he did not trust Ty as his squire, his lords wouldn't trust Myrcella as his wife. He's just as much a Lannister as she is.
"Do you have a need of me, my lord?" Ty asked, quickly.
Robb considered the question for a moment. "No," he finally decided, and Ty left just as quickly as he had come.
He wanted to cry a little, wondering how father had led men to war, not once but twice, and won. Robb barely knew what to do now, and Jon was not pleased with him anymore either.
There was little more that he wanted than for him to wake up at Winterfell again, with Myrcella lying next to him, father still safely ruling as Hand of the King in King's Landing. When this is done, I will return to her, Robb vowed to himself, with mother and father would be there too, taking back the duties of the Lord and Lady.
Robb still wondered what madness had led the Queen to imprison father. Father would never have committed any treasons, he knew, but that left little else that made sense. The closest Robb could guess was that she simply wanted Myrcella back, but that didn't make much sense to him either.
He tried to set those thoughts aside when he heard a knock on the door, and heard his uncle's voice call in.
"Come in," Robb bid, allowing the Blackfish to sit in the room with him.
"Is there word from the south?" Robb asked, unsure if he wanted any.
"No, but I must tell you of news from the East. Lysa will not be joining you I'm afraid," Ser Brynden said.
Robb felt a little shocked, wondering why his aunt wouldn't come. He remembered the suspicions his mother had told him about, that time in the Godswood, of how aunt Lysa suspected the Lannisters were behind Jon Arryn's death. "Was there a letter?"
"There was not. But I did not tell you of what happened when we left," his uncle said.
"What happened?" Robb asked, curiously, though he didn't know if he would like the answer.
"I did not wish to have to be the one to tell you, when Princess Myrcella was there too. Her sister, Princess Marla, was betrothed to Lysa's eldest son, Edric-" he said.
"-Was?" Robb said confused. He remembered Myrcella telling him of his cousin Edric's betrothal to Marla, and how she had been sent to the Vale with Lady Lysa, while his cousin Robert was a ward of Lord Stannis on Dragonstone. "What happened?"
Ser Brynden didn't seem too angry that Robb had interrupted him. "After we got word of King Robert's death, Lysa chose to wed the two of them, Edric a boy of three and ten, and Marla only one and ten."
"Truly?" Robb said in disbelief.
"Aye… They were not to marry for some time, but Lysa went forward with it all the same. It was to bind her line to the crown, she said, though we knew it was simply her trying to create an excuse not to send men to war," uncle Brynden told him.
Robb nodded, though he almost felt an urge to laugh. If the Queen was not pleased with my marriage to Myrcella, then she certainly would not take a liking to this.
"Is there anything we can do?" Robb asked. He was at war despite his marriage to Myrcella after all, but his uncle had left the Vale with several others of good and high birth.
"Us here? No, but in the Vale they are trying to remove Lysa from the regency, and have it go to Lord Arryn's eldest girl, Sharra, instead," Ser Brynden told him.
He dimly remembered Sharra, who father had from time to time spoken of when he talked about his time in the Vale. She had not been born to aunt Lysa he recalled, but from one of Jon Arryn's previous marriages.
"She is Bronze Yohn's wife," his uncle said, perhaps thinking he was confused.
Oh very good, Robb thought to himself. He did not like having to put his faith in the woman whose daughter he had married out without her father's leave.
"Will she help us?" Robb asked, doubtfully.
"If she is able to become Lady Protector, yes, she will," he said.
"Her daughter, Rhea…" Robb said. "They must hold a grudge against me, do they not?"
"Perhaps… But not much… They will come when they can."
"If," Robb said. "If they can."
He didn't know what to make of this. He hadn't been counting much on Aunt Lysa's support, but now knowing there may be a chance he will have the Vale even without it seemed strange.
"You ought to get some rest, my lord," his uncle said, and Robb couldn't have agreed more. When Ser Brynden was gone, he set those thoughts aside, and undressed himself to put on some of his nightclothes, before he drifted off to sleep, thinking of the long march that lay ahead of him.
Author Notes:
So that's that…
We're going to King's Landing next chapter, so feel free to get hyped about that. It should be a real blast there.
Obviously, Robb has taken on a little more agency here than in canon, largely because we are seeing things from his POV, rather than that of his mother. We don't really need Catelyn to give him as many ideas here, though Brynden is still in many ways the puppet master here.
I want to clarify that Daemon is in the host with Robb right now. I don't think that's been made particularly clear yet to this point, but he is going to war.
Thank you guys for reading. I've noticed that I've been getting a lot of feedback on AO3 recently, so I want to thank you guys for that, but I haven't gotten too much from FF. Just remember that your guy's feedback is what drives my desire to write.
And as always, I do not own ASOIAF.