Daenerys was still fast asleep when Robb roused himself up at dawn. The icy wind nipped the back of his neck as he padded blearily across the room. How the frosty breeze could penetrate his bedchamber through the heavy tapestries that covered the high narrow windows was a mystery.
Quietly changing into a grey woollen tunic and pants from his nightwear Robb closed the bedchamber door behind him before making his way to the solar. Grey Wind joined him as usual. As Robb pushed his pile of papers onto one side of the table, the solar door opened. Robb didn't even need to glance up to know that his first visitors were Maester Luwin and Greatjon Umber. At first Robb was slightly taken back when Lord Umber started marching into the solar at dawn. Robb had not expected that a man like the Greatjon would bother waking up at dawn every morning. He'd assumed the Greatjon preferred sleeping in. It was not long before Robb discovered that the Umbers all wake up early at Last Hearth – usually to be ready for wildling watch.
"Lord Umber, Maester Luwin," greeted Robb, biting in a yawn.
"Robb," returned Maester Luwin. Lord Umber grunted. The maester handed a scrap of parchment to Robb. "From the Wall, my lord."
Robb read it eagerly. His heart sank.
"A tough victory," Lord Umber said, watching him like a hawk. "At least plenty of wildling scum are dead now."
"As are so many men of the Night's Watch," murmured Robb. "A costly victory for the black brothers." There had been a skirmish on the Bridge of Skulls – it had seemed the wildlings thought to attack from the gate south of the Wall. "How did the men of the Night's Watch snatch victory?"
"It was close," Lord Umber said gruffly. "Very close. If the black brothers lost, I wager we would all be fighting the wildlings off our lands for the rest of our lives. Unsuccessfully most of the time. If it wasn't for your half-brother getting lost, the Night's Watch would've been decimated completely."
"What?" said Robb, astonished. "Jon is a hero?"
Greatjon Umber snorted. "You a southron flower, young Stark? Only southron fools believe in heroes and southron shit like that. Might as well tell you now that your half-brother Ser Jon Snow knows nothing. You know why he was sent off to the Shadow Tower? For being a fool. He is a fair fighter from what I heard, but an utter fool when it comes to wildings. Who hesitates to kill a fucking wildling?" He quickly said, "He did prevent the wildlings from gaining access from the south. It was…good. My cousin Ogden sent me a raven yesterday, stating that Jon was sent to check the supplies but he went the wrong way and saw wildlings sneaking to a southron gate. He raised the alarm and battle commenced. At least he didn't stop and hesitate this time." He nodded approvingly.
"How many dead?" asked Robb.
"At least a hundred," said Maester Luwin, producing another piece of paper. "I received this from Bowen Marsh, Lord Steward of the Night's Watch. It's a rough number of how many dead." Robb looked at the piece of paper. The words there were minimal, barely legible and bloodstained. "The wildlings lost a vast number of men and women too," he commented.
"It should hold the wildlings back for a day or two," calculated the Greatjon. "It will give the black brothers and our men a small, much needed respite."
"I'll write to Jon-" Robb caught sight of the maester's troubled expression. "Um, is something wrong, Maester?"
"Near the end of the battle," said Maester Luwin hesitantly, "Jon disappeared. I don't know the details, but I heard the news from one of the scouts. After the um, skirmish, most of the bodies were recovered and recognised before they were all burnt on a pyre. Jon's body wasn't there."
Panic entered Robb's voice. "How could Jon disappear?"
"I suspect he was captured by wildlings-"
"Impossible," Greatjon Umber cut in. "Wildlings don't take prisoners. They kill everything living – animals and humans. They are bloody savages."
"They might take prisoners," countered Maester Luwin, "if under orders from a less savage leader."
Lord Umber's lips formed a grimace. "That King-Beyond-the-Wall."
"I believe he is a reasonable man, my lord Umber. A shrewd man. He will know the significant value in capturing northmen. Even though Jon is your half-brother, he is still of great importance to House Stark."
The Greatjon snorted. "Not on the Wall he's not. Half the men still recall him as the fool who allowed a wildling bitch to escape." His gaze softened a little. "Jon is your brother after all, young Stark. If the old gods wanted him dead, he'd be dead and his body burnt or sent back if that was your wish."
Robb stared blankly at the table. He should never have allowed Jon to leave to Castle Black – what sort of man would send his brother to his death, or worse, an eternity with the wildlings?
"Robb?" said Maester Luwin gently.
"What are the chances of Jon returning alive?" Robb heard himself ask.
Greatjon Umber scratched his chin in thought. "Alive and in one piece? Highly unlikely. Alive and crippled, more likely."
"Unless Mance Rayder instructs his men to not harm Jon."
"I'll send out a search party," declared Robb. "Jon must be found."
"With what men, my lord?" said Maester Luwin patiently as Lord Umber gave Robb a questionable look. "The only people that are at all familiar with the lands beyond the Wall are men of the Night's Watch and the wildlings." He looked a bit uncomfortable. "I don't think either party are willing to help at the moment as ah, they are both at war with each other."
"Jon must be found!" Robb insisted. "He's my brother!"
"Young Stark," spoke Lord Umber, "I lost a great deal of family members since I was a babe." His eyes were now hollow with sadness. "You grief, you get over it. Don't wallow in sorrow and despair, young Stark," he said almost abruptly. "Your duty is to Winterfell and the North, Ser Jon Snow did his duty as a soldier; you're the acting Lord of Winterfell."
"Did you say that to yourself when you lost your brothers?"
Greatjon Umber darkened. "As a matter of fact, I did. How many brothers and sisters do you think I have now?"
Robb frowned. He was unaware that Lord Umber had any sisters. "Did you not have two brothers? One was killed in a wildling attack I believe."
"I had five brothers," Lord Umber corrected him. "All but one died and they all died in wilding attacks and skirmishes. As for sisters, I had one. She was to wed a Liddle but she was abducted by a wildling. See what wildlings do, young Stark? It is best to eliminate them. I told you all that before."
"I can't sit and do nothing about Jon!" Robb stood up. He had enough. All Lord Umber did was complain and curse wildlings. "Once the war is over, I'll have men sent to find Jon," he said stubbornly. "No, I won't wait that long. Jon could be half-dead as we speak. I need experienced men sent to find him today. By the gods it'll take too much time travelling to the Wall anyway."
"Who will go beyond the Wall for a bastard?" demanded Greatjon Umber, who was losing his patience (not that he had much of it to begin with).
"He's my brother!" snapped Robb. He turned to Maester Luwin. "I trust you to send all the ravens and write the letters that need to be answered to today? I am not in the mood to answer diplomatically." Feeling Greatjon Umber's eyes staring into him disapprovingly, Robb left. It was much too early to expect anyone else in Winterfell to be awake at the moment, but the old gods were always prepared to listen to one's prayers and thoughts.
Pulling a thick fur cloak over his shoulders, Robb headed to the godswood. To his relief, Jojen Reed was not there. Every time Robb planned for an hour or so in the godswood alone, Jojen was already kneeling in front of the heart tree with his eyes shut and his expression one of peace. This time the heir of Greywater Watch was still curled up in bed.
Dried leaves that had fallen from the oak trees and ironwoods crunched under Robb's shoes as he walked towards the ancient heart tree. Robb sat down on the moss-covered stone and lowered his gaze to the small, still, black pool. The deep-cut eyes on the heart tree, red with dried sap, glared at him.
I wish Father's here, thought Robb as he listened to the leaves whispering and rustling amongst themselves. He always knows what to do: how to appease all the lords, bring to peace to the North, deal with quarrelsome vassals…I still feel like an utter fool when the lords look at me with contempt. Not that many northern lords visited over the last couple of months. The Cerwyns would usually pay a visit but apparently Cley Cerwyn was still enjoying court life in the south while his father, Lord Medger Cerwyn, was at Castle Black with most of their men. Winterfell was busy as it was anyway, with Lyanna Mormont and Alys Karstark staying until the wildling was was over. Lady Alys was pleasant to chat to; Lady Lyanna Mormont reminded Robb uneasily of Arya.
"She'll never forgive me," Robb murmured as the blood red eyes of the ancient heart tree glowered disapprovingly at him. "Lyarra will never forgive me either." Arya hadn't written a single letter to him in the last eight months. Lyarra had – it was short, courteous as if it was a prince writing to a vassal lord and did not at all mention Daenerys. All Lyarra wrote was requesting the Braavosi water dancer to meet Arya in the Eyrie when the royal court arrives there for the wedding. There weren't any pleasantries written and Lyarra didn't even write 'your sister Lyarra' at the end of the letter as she usually did whenever she wrote from the Dreadfort. Instead, it was 'Lyarra of Houses Baratheon and Stark, Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms'. Robb's lips tightened. He was glad Syrio Forel was to leave, but to…to be ordered by his own sister!
"Robb."
Robb groaned. "Maester Luwin, can't I have a moment alone in peace?"
Maester Luwin shuffled closer. "No lord has a moment alone in peace. Did you ever see your father have a moment of peace, my lord Robb?"
"What is it now? I suppose I should go and apologise to Lord Umber."
"Later, my lord." Robb stared at the maester. Later? "I bring urgent news from Lady Hornwood," said Maester Luwin, handing him a folded piece of paper. "I am aware that Jon's disappearance took you by shock, but Hornwood needs aid."
Robb unfolded the paper and glanced at it. "Not wildlings?" he said, astounded. He squinted at the words again. "What? Bandits and brigands raiding Hornwood lands?" He looked at Maester Luwin. "Are you certain, Maester? This is odd. Who would attack Hornwood lands now?" He read the letter again. His heart sank. The Boltons. Of course they would attack Hornwood lands. Bolton lands bordered the Hornwood's and every lord had his eye on land expansion. "Lord Bolton does not strike me as the type," Robb said uncertainly. "He is calculating and patient. He'd not send his men to raid Hornwood lands without strong allies to back him up as he knows the Hornwoods will send a message to us requesting help. Besides, he's a man who ensures his lands are peaceful."
"His lands my lord, not any other lord's lands."
"Yes, but I cannot imagine Lord Bolton sanctioning this. Besides, isn't Domeric celebrating his wedding with Lady Arrana Umber?"
"It is indeed odd. I suspect it is Lord Bolton's ah, bastard, who's leading a band of unsavoury people to attack Hornwood lands. He might be bitter that he has no land of his own and now that Domeric is home for good with a lady wife, chances of being legitimised are extremely slim. This is only a theory, Robb. Perhaps Lady Hornwood mistaken wildlings for bandits as I believe she hadn't seen a wildling before. She was a Manderly," he added for Robb's benefit, "before she was wed to Lord Hornwood. The Manderlys are more about trade and export – I do not think they have seen many wildlings before."
"Will Lord Bolton be offended if I send him a letter of uh, warning?"
"He might," said Maester Luwin honestly, "but he would know you would send him a letter of warning if it was him authorising the raids."
"I will go to the Hornwood with a troop of men," Robb said slowly, "maybe two troops. I will deal with the bandits in person." He looked at Maester Luwin with a sense of defiance. "I should do more than deal with politics." And find a number of allies, he wanted to add.
Maester Luwin's expression remained neutral. "When you capture the bandits, what will you do with them?"
"Promise them mercy if they tell me why they are attacking Hornwood lands. I don't believe they raid without good reason."
"You will allow the brigands to live?"
"I will send them to the Wall without the loss of a hand. If they plan to remain silent, they will lose their sword hands and be imprisoned in the coldest dungeon for the rest of their lives." Robb felt uncomfortable but knew it had to be said. He was acting lord and the lord carried the sentence. "If we discover the leader, he'll be captured and executed. I will swing the blade myself."
Maester Luwin studied him solemnly. "Even if the leader is Lord Bolton?"
Robb swallowed and nodded. "I'd prefer to send him to the Wall."
"Lord Stark left you as acting lord and the Stark in Winterfell. If you leave, you will remain the acting lord, but not the Stark in Winterfell."
"Arthur will be the Stark in Winterfell."
"Do you know what the Stark in Winterfell does, my lord?"
Robb bit in an impatient sigh. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell as it is Winterfell that defines House Stark and it's also the heart and soul of the North. It was said that with a Stark in Winterfell, tradition will always prevail."
"That is the reason why there is always a Stark in Winterfell." Luwin the tutor was back instead of Luwin the advisor. "That's not what the Stark in Winterfell is tasked to do. The Stark in Winterfell is similar to acting lord. He will have to deal with the land disputes, marriage contracts, family feuds…almost everything that the acting lord must sort out. The only dissimilarity is that the Stark in Winterfell does not march off to war as it defeats the purpose of the Stark in Winterfell. It is also said and believed by many that if there is not a Stark in Winterfell, there will be misfortune in the North."
"Are you saying that Arthur is too young to be the Stark in Winterfell?"
"No. He is the only Stark available to be the Stark."
A thought struck Robb. "No he isn't!" he said excitedly. "Dany can be the Stark in Winterfell! She is a Stark now and the child in her womb will be a Stark."
Maester Luwin looked stern. "That is impossible, my lord. She is not a Stark by blood. Your brother Arthur must be the Stark in Winterfell. You should ask Lord Umber to guide him. It'll greatly appease him and even improve House Stark and House Umber's relationship."
"Very well," said Robb, defeated. Maester Luwin was as usual, right. Better try and further befriend Lord Umber than antagonise him. Lord Umber still despised Daenerys and refused to speak whenever she was present. "I will put Ser Rodrik in charge of the men here. In case…in case anything should happen."
"A good decision my lord."
Robb stood up. "Lady Hornwood writes that the brigands on her lands are not just after the livestock and food. She wrote that there have been a few cases of ah, rape and murder. What are the chances that I will be killed?"
"Unlikely. You will have guards with you and though these criminals may be at the most skilled in hunting, they will not be disciplined or trained soldiers. May I ask why, my lord?"
Robb shrugged. "A passing thought." It was not. Dany had not won an ounce of approval from any of the northern lords (not even the Lady Lyanna Mormont for that matter) and she was to birth the Stark heir in a few weeks. If he was to die in battle, who would protect Dany and declare her child the Stark heir? The odds of her child as the heir were slim. Even if the truth of Daenerys's ancestry was at all revealed, her child being declared heir was not in her favour.
Stifling a sigh, Robb went inside the castle with the maester. The sun was half way up the sky, a portion of it still covered by the northern mountains. He would probably break his fast alone – again. To Robb's astonishment, when he entered the Great Hall, his siblings, Lady Lyanna and Dany were already there. All of them except Lady Lyanna Mormont were bleary-eyed and looked as if they all dragged themselves from their beds with the utmost reluctance.
"What are you doing here so early?" inquired Robb, amazed.
"We thought it would be nice to keep you company," spoke Dany, smiling. "We usually sleep in while you are busy in the solar. I miss breaking my fast with you, Robb. It's been a few weeks."
"I wake up at this time every morning," said Lady Lyanna flatly.
Arthur yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. "I hope we do not have to wake up this early every day." He glanced over at Rickon who had fallen asleep. "Perhaps I should ask a servant to give Rickon a loaf of bread to use as a soft pillow?" Arthur suggested mischievously.
"We shouldn't waste bread." Robb signalled for a servant to carry Rickon back to his rooms. "You know that Arthur. I hope you will not have the servants serve loaves of bread as pillows when I leave you in charge."
The smile disappeared from Daenerys's face. "You're leaving?" she asked.
Arthur's mouth dropped open. "Why? Are you going south too?"
"No," said Robb, taken back. "Yes I will be leaving, but it will only be for a short time and it's to Hornwood, not King's Landing."
"The Hornwood!" exclaimed Daenerys. "What possibly for?"
"Brigands are attacking the Hornwood," Robb explained, hungrily biting into a thick slice of bread lathered generously with freshly churned yellow butter. "The Lady of the Hornwood sent me a letter requesting aid. She mentioned the bandits were also raping and murdering her villagers. I thought it would be best to go to the Hornwood and sort out matters myself with two troops of men. I'll be leaving Arthur here as the Stark of Winterfell."
"Don't go!" pleaded Daenerys. "You might die!"
"Robb will be surrounded by loyal men," stated Gwenysse, prodding her bowl of porridge with her spoon. "I don't think he will die."
"He is the acting lord," Lady Lyanna added. "He should be riding off and aiding his bannermen, not cowering behind the walls of Winterfell. If I was home, I'd be riding to every village with my sister Jorelle to see if their defences are ready and they have enough food and firewood. No one has too much that may be seen as a worthy prize or too less that will send them to early deaths. It's enough for them to survive on. My family too. We don't feast like southroners do or drip in jewels or silk." She made a face. "Why waste money on excess food and jewels?" A smile replaced her grimace as she tapped the wooden figure of a bear that was secured around her neck by a piece of rope. "My uncle carved this for Dacey before he left for Castle Black," she said fondly. "Dacey gave it to me before I left."
"It's lovely," said Robb honestly.
"When will you leave?" inquired Daenerys.
"As soon as I have enough men. Probably in a day or two. Don't worry Dany – I will have Ser Rodrik in charge of defences and Theon will be here. He's a brilliant archer and can shoot any invader from the battlements. You will be safe here. All of you will be." He smiled at his wife and then at his siblings. "Besides, there's the crypts that can protect you," he said soothingly, squeezing Dany's hand.
"Come back to me soon," said Daenerys softly so Lady Lyanna couldn't hear or scoff at. "Alive and in one piece."
"I will," promised Robb. "The Hornwood problem will be dealt with swiftly. I'll be there and back before you know it."
I'm planning to write a chapter based on the Martell-Tyrell-Targaryen plotting, but I'm stuck on whose POV to write it in. Any suggestions? It doesn't have to be anyone new (not Aegon though - I already planned out his POV chapters).
I'm letting you know now that I'm taking a short break from The Dance of Spring, mostly due to uni work and a need to plot and look at something new that isn't Game of Thrones/ASOIAF related. I'm not abandoning this story - just putting it on halt for probably a few weeks (maybe shorter if I get bored of taking a break).
