Winterfell was like winter town – the home of ghosts. Unlike winter town, the ghosts were still lurking in the castle. As Robb crept through Hunter's Gate at the head of his small force of men, he hesitated. Where to go? Maester Luwin's turret was close, as were the kennels. Where first? Where would the Bolton men lurk in the castle? What were the chances they would be far from Hunter's Gate?
Robb stopped and strained his ears in an attempt to hear the echoed laughs of Bolton men he heard a mere few seconds ago. We are the ghosts now, he thought, glancing around cautiously.
"Milord?" said one of the soldiers uncertainly. "Aren't we meeting up with our other men from the North Gate?"
"No point with the Bolton men hiding around," murmured Robb. Splitting up a small host was a bad idea, but what other choice did he have? "Half of you will go and investigate the Bell Tower area. The rest of you, with me. We will investigate the godswood and armoury."
"The godswood?" said another soldier, looking faintly disappointed. "Milord, I don't think the Bolton men care to ransack the godswood."
"What of the dungeons?" inquired a third soldier. "The Bastard of Bolton has a delight in flaying – the dungeon would have plenty of prisoners."
Robb shook his head. "Most dungeons yes, but not here at Winterfell." Usually a prisoner would be in the dungeons for one or two days, three days at the most, before being executed or sent to the Wall. An icy chill cut through him like a knife. What if Ramsay Snow had rounded everyone in the castle into the dungeons and was flaying them to his heart's content?
"The dungeons will be checked," Robb decided. Better to be safe than sorry. "It will be investigated once we…" He hesitated. "We…kill some Bolton men." To his relief and unease, his men nodded in agreement, some more excited than others. I am a monster, thought Robb as he and a portion of men set off towards the door of the godswood. I condemned all of Ramsay Snow's men to death. What if not all of them are guilty? If I voice my concerns, the men will dismiss them. The majority of the soldiers believed that all of Ramsay Snow's followers and soldiers were as bloodthirsty as their master. Perhaps it was true. Father picked soldiers that had excellent skills with no trace of a criminal record. Most of the new soldiers these days were trained by Ser Rodrik or another seasoned soldier though. Mayhap the other northern lords chose their men based on criteria other than honour and an exceptional fighting ability.
"Do you hear something?"
Robb froze, his outstretched hand about to push the godswood door open. The hair at the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around. He heard two of his men curse softly.
"Shit." The word slipped from Robb's lips as he found himself staring at a large, vicious-looking grey dog with a bloodthirsty glimmer in its eyes. That dog looked familiar. Too familiar.
"That's one of the Bastard's," said a soldier in a hushed tone. His hand shook a little. "Ripped a great chunk of flesh from my brother's leg in the Hornwood."
"An excellent memory." Reminding Robb of a characteristic villain from one of Old Nan's stories, an ugly young man with long, dark hair, sloped shoulders and a wet-lipped smile, stepped forward from the shadows with at least five hounds at his side, all growling and snarling. Robb kept a steady stare on the man. His eyes were small, close set and oddly pale, like two chips of dirty ice – distinctively like the late Roose Bolton's.
"Ramsay Snow," said Robb, finding his voice.
Anger flashed in the man's pale eyes. "Ramsay Bolton, actually." He smirked. "I am the Lord of the Dreadfort and Lord of Winterfell – you are an invader, Stark." He flipped a dagger and caught it. "You are a fool. You honestly think I won't have guards situated everywhere?"
"My father's Lord of Winterfell," said Robb, gripping his sword. "You're naught but a bastard. It'll be you who will dead today for all the crimes you committed." One of the dogs growled threateningly. Robb's eyes remained fixed on the bloody Bastard of Bolton who had lost his smirk.
"What say you to single combat?" challenged Ramsay Snow. "Just you and me, Stark. Right here, right now." He smiled wickedly. "The victor wins Winterfell."
"We can beat them milord," a soldier whispered to Robb. "Right now even. He is on his own here."
No he wasn't. Robb glanced at the dogs that lurked around their master. They all looked hungry – for flesh or for blood? Ramsay Snow didn't even need to say a word and the dogs would attack. Those hounds wouldn't be easy to kill. They will probably be more difficult to kill, Robb thought.
"Well?" said the Bastard of Bolton, growing impatient.
"What are the terms?" asked Robb.
Ramsay Snow smirked again. "if I win, Winterfell will be mine and I will flay all of your men alive. Their flesh will be fed to my bitches. If you win, I'll be dead and my men will be your prisoners. Execute them if you want, or send them all to the Wall. Everyone knows how you Starks love sending men to the Wall."
"No!" said one of the soldiers hotly. He looked at Robb. "Milord, any of us-" he gestured to himself and the other soldiers "-are willing to fight! Lord Stark won't be pleased if he returns to hear of your death!"
Robb frowned. Did his men have so little confidence in his fighting skills?
"You're nothing but a coward!" sad Ramsay Snow, seemingly delighted. "Will it be death for you too, Stark?"
"No!" Robb snapped. He stepped forward. "I accept your challenge." He almost choked straight after. What did I just do? Robb thought with dread. Did I sentence all my men to a horrible and agonising death? He'd killed some men in battle and was still alive – did that qualify him to represent Winterfell in single combat? The little voice at the back of his mind screamed no.
"Excellent!" Ramsay Snow swapped his dagger for a sword. "I'm quite eager to flay you," he added ominously. "I'll be the first Bolton in centuries to wear a cloak fashioned from Stark skin."
One of the soldiers grabbed Robb's arm. "Milord, allow one of us to fight-"
"NO!" snarled Ramsay. "It will be Stark or I will order my dogs to attack!"
Robb swallowed. "So be it," he said at last. He turned to his men. "I want one of you go to the kennels. If I die today, I want the direwolves set free. I will not have one direwolf here be skinned and its pelt used as a cloak or rug."
Throwing him a look of confusion, one of the soldiers obeyed and hurried off.
Robb steadied his grip as Ramsay began to circle him like a wild predator. "I'll kill you slowly," the bastard promised as Robb started to circle him back. "When I win, you will watch me flay your men alive as you lie there dying, your intestines and blood spilling from your gut. I have your wife too," he added with a maniacal grin. "Pretty little bitch, isn't she? After I flay your men, you'll watch me fuck her." He snickered. "I wager she had never been fucked by a real man before. Once I'm done with her, I will put her in the stocks where any man can fuck her from dawn to night. She will be the whore of Winterfell. She's a whore already, isn't she? Or a witch? No lord would marry a whore lest he's a fool." He laughed as Robb slashed at him with his sword – and missed.
Robb forced himself to calm down as Ramsay continued to taunt him. "I'd once wanted to fuck your sister," the Bolton bastard sneered, his sword singing as it'd clashed with Robb's. "When she was at the Dreadfort, I wanted to fuck her till she was screaming for mercy." He cursed as Robb managed to wound him in the arm. Unfortunately, it wasn't Ramsay Snow's sword arm. "I even thought she'd be my wife," Ramsay went on. "Your father wouldn't care which Bolton she married for an alliance." He cursed again as Robb delivered a particularly savage blow. "She's lucky she was sold to a prince."
"Lyarra would never have married you!" said Robb angrily, rage surging in his heart as he swung his sword at Ramsay. "You are a bastard, even now! No lady of noble blood will ever wed you!" He swore as Ramsay's sword cut deeply into his shoulder. He suddenly ducked to avoid Ramsay's curled fist hitting his face. Fury was etched on the Bastard of Bolton's expression.
Make him mad. It was easier to wound a rabid and reckless man than one with a clear mind. "None of the other northern lords will accept you as a Bolton," Robb said savagely, concentrating on his direct blows towards Ramsay's chest. "If they can't even do that, what makes you think they'll accept you as Lord of Winterfell? My House ruled from Winterfell for centuries – they will continue to do so till the end of time. No bastard of House Bolton will take Winterfell away!"
With a roar, Ramsay drove his sword into Robb's leg. Robb attempted to crawl away – too late. With his other leg pinned down by Ramsay's weight, Robb could not move. He tried to strike Ramsay on the head with his sword, but Ramsay had knocked the sword away effortlessly. "I am going to enjoy this," Ramsay hissed at Robb. He yanked his sword out and drove it back into Robb's leg. Robb bit his lip to suppress a cry of pain.
Suddenly, Robb remembered Ser Rodrik's words to him during his first sword practice lesson with the other boys. "Use your head!" Ser Rodrik had barked from his spot on the sparring yard. "Use it, lads! You have to think! There is no use just standing there waving that wooden sword around like an idiot! Think how to win against your enemy! Where's the best place to hit them? Stab them? Wound them even? If you're pinned down and your sword and shield away from you what will you do? You use your head."
Bracing himself for a big soon-to-be headache, Robb slammed his head against Ramsay Snow's forehead. The Bastard of Bolton cursed. Seizing the chance, Robb yanked both his arms from Ramsay's slacking grasp. Mustering all his energy, he curled his fingers into a fist and he punched Ramsay Snow right in the eye. As the bastard swore and retreated, Robb scrambled up and grabbed his sword, aware of the pain burning in his leg. Limping into a solid battle stand, Robb steadied his grip on his sword, and without a second of hesitancy or doubt, pushed the sharp blade deep into Ramsay Snow's shoulder.
Growling like one of his rabid dogs, Ramsay pulled out a dagger and with what sounded like an inhumane snarl, launched himself at Robb again, stabbing him in the arm again and again. It hurt like hell, but at least it wasn't his sword arm.
Considering Ramsay used a dagger and a sword, it seemed the traditional rule of using one weapon in single combat was now invalid. Robb pulled his dirk from his belt and swiftly stabbed it into the Bastard of Bolton's throat.
Ramsay Snow staggered back, clutching his throat and gurgling. His sword fell to the ground with a dull thud. Shock was clear in his pale eyes. Both his arm and leg burning in agony, Robb limped a little closer to the Bolton bastard, praying he was dead. A speck of hope soared within Robb as he watched Ramsay Snow drop down, his blood still spurting out from his throat and onto the ground.
"He's dead," said a soldier in awe. He looked at Robb. "He's dead."
Robb nodded, too tired to speak. For a moment, there was only silence. "Have his head removed," he said at last. "Put it on a spike. Let it be a warning to any of the other Bolton men or potential traitors out there that House Bolton is no more and rebellion will not be tolerated in the North."
"And the Bolton Bastard's body?"
Robb was tempted to order them to leave the bastard's body out for the crows, but instead he said, "Ensure his body is burnt." He cried out in surprise and pain as he felt teeth sink into his already bleeding leg. Robb glanced down and saw an angry dog with its teeth in his leg. "Kill those dogs!" he shouted, driving his blood coated sword into the large dog's body. "Now!" He wrenched his sword back out of the dog and stabbed it into another hound that sprung towards him. It was not long before Robb found himself and his soldiers covered with blood, surrounded by the corpses of dead dogs and their master, Ramsay Snow. "There will be more of these bloodthirsty hounds around," said Robb, wincing in pain. "I remember a lot more of these hounds in the Hornwood. We should also meet up quickly with the other men and round up the Bolton men still present."
"We'll take care of that milord," said a soldier promptly. He glanced pointedly at Robb's wounded leg and arm. "You should have your injuries looked at by the maester and taken care of at once."
Robb was torn. He desperately wanted to find Dany and his family; he desired to participate in hunting down the remaining Bolton men; and he really wanted a bandage for his leg and one for his arm.
"You can barely walk with that leg," another soldier pointed out, wiping blood from his face. "You must have it taken care of."
"No. Not yet." Robb leant on his sword. "I will go with you to meet the captains and the other men." He forced out a strained laugh. "I do not want our men at the East Gate to think I'm dead after all." Slowly and in excruciating pain, Robb made his way through the godswood and towards the armoury with his soldiers. They then proceeded into the armoury, and into the smaller courtyard that was closest to the East Gate. To Robb's astonishment, the courtyard was already littered with dead bodies. Upon closer examination, Robb realised they were a mix of both the Bolton men and Stark men amongst the dead.
"There was an ambush," said a soldier, walking up to Robb. "Those Bolton men jumped on us like savages. I fought wildlings before milord, and I can tell you, not many of them are as savage as the Bolton men. One of them tried to bite me!"
"Savage," agreed the soldier standing next to Robb.
"Ecton's patrolling the castle grounds with some men. You should get that arm and leg inspected milord. Maester Luwin is bandaging some of my men right now milord. They are in the First Keep. Not very far milord."
"First Keep?" Robb was puzzled. "Maester Luwin was hiding there this whole time?" He limped towards the First Keep and was surprised to see the squat and round drum tower transformed into a temporary area for the wounded. A broad smile slowly spread on his blood-splattered face as he caught sight of Gwenysse, Arthur and Rickon running around with linen sheets, bandages and small vials of medicines, potions and ointments.
"ROBB!" Arthur shrieked, spotting him in an instance. Everyone looked up and the quiet murmurs grew. Maester Luwin appeared, his grey robes tarnished with blood. He shuffled up to Robb, his eyes filled with concern and slight relief.
Robb managed a grin. "Maester Luwin."
The maester's grey eyes fell to the two soldiers who were lugging the Bastard of Bolton's body. He looked at Robb questioningly, but said, "I must take a look at your wounds, my lord. The longer they remain unattended, the more the wounds will fester. Come, my lord."
"What do we do with the body milord?" inquired a soldier.
"Burn him," ordered Robb, "but remove the head and stick it on a pike. Go and interrogate the prisoners – if there are any."
"Interrogate them on what milord?"
"Ramsay Snow. His motives. The layout of the Dreadfort. The Hornwood battle. Winter town." He paused. "And Lady Arrana Umber." The Greatjon would return soon and he would need to know the fate of his daughter. To his knowledge, and to Robb's, all had been well for Lady Arrana and Domeric Bolton in the Dreadfort in the last few months. Lord Umber seemed to have assumed they were husband and wife; Robb believed it too.
"Come now Lord Robb," said Maester Luwin gently.
Robb took a few steps and stopped when he saw Lady Alys Karstark and Lady Meera Reed washing their hands in a basin. Lady Alys had to be told…
Wait. Where was Daenerys? Surely she'd be with the ladies?
"Where's my wife?" asked Robb, glancing around. "Where's Daenerys?" To his alarm, the maester looked at him with pity and sadness. Robb felt his heart drop like a stone in the pond when he heard the words Maester Luwin uttered:
"I'm afraid my lord, Lady Daenerys is dead."
The pain in Robb's bandaged leg and arm did not match the throbbing pain in Robb's heart when he stared down at Daenerys's pale, lifeless face. Her eyes shut, she looked to be at peace. Someone had placed her on a long table and moved her hands into a clasping position over her chest. She was still wearing the gown she wore when she gave birth to the children. Our children. A lump formed in Robb's throat. I am a terrible husband, reflected Robb, tears in his violet eyes. Every day, Daenerys was worried for him. She was concerned he'd die in battle; Robb hadn't even considered the prospect of Dany dying of childbed fever.
"Robb." Maester Luwin had appeared at Robb's side for the third time that day. "You've been here in the First Keep for hours. Your bandages need changing and you need to rest. You have not slept for a whole day."
"How can I sleep?" croaked Robb, his throat dry. "How can I sleep knowing my wife is dead? Of childbed fever!"
"Women oft die of childbed fever."
"The last words I said to her…" Robb wiped his eyes. "I said I will return to her soon and we would hold our child together. I didn't even think about Dany when I was ridding the Hornwood of the bandits with my mine. What husband doesn't even think about his own wife when they are apart?"
"Robb, many husbands don't think about their lady wives at all except when it comes to having heirs. When it comes to war, it is better your mind isn't occupied with thoughts about your wife. Especially when you are about to attack."
"Dany is dead…"
"You have two daughters, Robb. Two dear daughters that haven't yet met their father. You must accept that your lady wife is dead and you have children to raise. I am aware it will be difficult, but it must be done."
"I suppose the children are unnamed?" Robb did not wait for an answer. "They will be named Rhaena and Danny." To his surprise Maester Luwin pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Lady Daenerys named your daughters," he told him. "She called them Lysara and Alysanne before she died."
"Lysara and Alysanne Stark," Robb tried. Respectable names, both of them. It'd not be a revelation to discover both of them somewhere in his family. "I will look and hold them tonight," he said quietly. "They are settled in the nursery already? I hope Rickon does not disturb them."
"I have taken the liberty to put your brothers in a different chamber. They are both quite excited and sleeping is the last thing on their mind. If you desire your brothers to return to the nursery, it can be arranged." Maester Luwin paused and looked at Daenerys. "Lady Daenerys will be buried in the crypts soon."
"I want a sculpture commissioned for her."
"You must speak to your lord father about that, Robb."
Robb was silent. Father. It felt like years since his whole family was here with him at Winterfell. There were times when Father was here while Mother was not, when Lyarra and Domeric were at the Dreadfort, Gwenysse at Dorne and Bran at King's Landing…but Daenerys and Jon had always been here.
Now they were both gone.
No, said a voice in Robb's head. Jon only disappeared – he could still be alive. It isn't too late to send out search parties.
"What of the few prisoners still alive?" inquired Robb, looking at Daenerys for the last time before turning away. "Did they give us any answers?"
Maester Luwin hesitated. "Not pleasant answers, but yes. Lord Umber and his men have been sighted coming back. He will be here soon."
"He'll be wanting answers."
Maester Luwin nodded. "Winter town must also be repaired quickly and food sent out. There is…another matter."
Robb limped out the First Keep and felt a strong gust of cold wind slice against his face like Ramsay Snow's blade. "What is it?"
"Your father is coming home, and so is your mother. And Arya."
In this story, Mace just wants Margaery married into the royal family. Queen would be nice, but Mace is happy that Margaery is a Baratheon by marriage (Baratheon widow in his eyes currently). He knows nothing of Olenna's dealings with Varys, Doran Martell and Jon Connington in restoring the Targaryens hence why he is still buttering up and being overly helpful to the Baratheons.
I wanted to try writing a single combat scene and decided to take the opportunity to put one in this chapter. Not fully pleased with it, but there'll always be chances to improve single combat and battle scenes :)
