Reviews:
jean d'arc : Thank you, I'm glad at least there isn't fault with the writing itself :) Writing bashing and abuse does make me uncomfortable, while writing I wondered how other authors could do it. I'm trying to make it seem like it didn't come out of nowhere and it appears I haven't done a good job on that. In Westeros boys are definitely more important than girls, and its especially important for a woman to produce an heir. It wasn't the first miscarriage that tipped her, but that Ned had an actual bastard son that he spent time with because he didn't have one of his own. Then her first child turns out to be a girl - another disappointment - Jon and Ned spends more time together because Ned/Cat doesn't work out as in canon, finally she gets a boy three years later... who doesn't look like a Stark and she finds she doesn't feel strongly for the child because she's a bit depressed from the cold North where her husband doesn't even seem to like her and she has no one to talk to. Now Ned has a son who's older, looks like a Stark, and is better than Robb since he has more years on him. She's definitely not going to be the same canon-Catelyn Stark that we know because she goes through an entirely different ordeal than canon-Catelyn. For a family centric woman like Catelyn, it must have affected her a lot. If Lysa can go mad, so can Catelyn, with their shared Whent/Tully blood. I really think Robb and Jon being the same age and her and Ned having a good relationship played a huge part in comforting her. Now she has neither.
As for separating Jon, she has more reason to do it now since Ned is actively encouraging him as part of the family despite him being a bastard (and we know how Catelyn feels about bastards even in canon), and her husband and children prefer the bastard-born over her, their mother/wife. It cuts at her already frazzled nerves. Yelling at Jon when she sees him reaching for Robb; Jon is older and Robb is a baby, to her it seems like now that Jon has to compete with a trueborn after being Ned's only son, he might pull some bastardry to get rid of him. I think an outburst is justified in this moment. In canon, Cat doesn't abuse him, but there's some emotional stuff happening there between them since Jon says usually, he'd run away or cry. Catelyn has the potential to be emotionally cruel to a child who didn't ask to be born (while loving the husband who did the deed) and canonically didn't care about sending a 14yr old child from his home to live out in a glorified penal colony, depressed Catelyn definitely wouldn't give a f*k about how he feels. And the physical punishment, I don't see her attacking Jon or attempting to hit him, that's why I think fanfics where she actually does that is a bit unrealistic, but I can see her getting incensed and resentful when she sees Robb lacking compared to Jon and causing her to lash out on what she does actually have control over in the whole of Winterfell, because she can't with Ned and Jon. And physical punishment in a society like Westeros shouldn't be an alien concept.
I hope this at least helps you understand what my mindset while writing this was, and if this still doesn't seem realistic to you, in the end, it is fanfic. So, I think I deserve a bit of freeway on this whole issue.
Catelyn will be getting more chapters later on and moments with Robb to explore their relationship a bit more. I can assure you that Robb doesn't hate Catelyn, nor does Catelyn hate any of her children. Robb is just angry and confused about the whole thing, while Catelyn is bitter and depressed, and she avoids bonding properly with Robb/Arya/Rickon (who refuse to be act the way she expects them to). Robb will probably forgive his mother... eventually.
Jon wank? ooof, just the thought makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I don't dislike Jon, though he's definitely not one of my favourites, but I don't ever intend on hating him. I just hate it when Jon is written to be so much better than Robb. He would be a better a heir, he's more a Stark, he's more political/intelligent, he gets a dragon, he gets all the girls, and more and more. I don't see why Robb needs to be made incompetent so that Jon can be highlighted. Though it seems like I've given that exact impression in regards to Jon / Catelyn 🙈.
*Uvuvwevwevwe Onyetenyevwe Ugwe : the preludes are intended to be a setting for later chapters, there's bound to be some drama as we see how Robb being younger affects Catelyn's behaviour. The action and adventure will happen once the Wo5K actually starts off and the Starks all leave Winterfell.
*Weedisdaboss : Thank you :) At first it was just going to be a completely Stark-centric story, and it wasn't like I was going to make him reject that Valyrian side of him, but right now and for a long while, he wouldn't know about it. All he is going to know for a long time is what everyone else does: they killed his grandfather, uncle and aunt. But he will have his dragon dreams and what not, and he probably eventually will come to accept it depending on how R+L goes and if Dany will be against Northern Independance. I'm not too sure yet on those parts. After reading up on Targaryen history for this chapter, I found so much things that interested me and it really is just Dany herself that I'm lukewarm towards, so I will be including more than what I originally intended.
So much reading was done for this chapter. This is a spoonful of what I imagine Robb's future chapters to be like in the future : a whole lot of history, both asoiaf and real-life, lore, and war-related stuffs. All this foreshadowing for Robb's future victories, so it doesn't appear like he pulled it out of nowhere. Here's to hoping his dialogue sections don't read like a textbook...
I also linked pictures of the battle, tell me if it doesn't fit in with the story and causes disruptions.
Disclaimer: Robb's opinions, as well as the opinions of others on different matters discussed, isn't necessarily my own. Robb is still young, narrow-minded, and pretty biased and stubborn in his views.
Chapter Four [Prelude] - Robb, Winterfell
293AC
Robb was turning seven name-days this year and was at an age to see his first execution.
Father wanted to take him next year, as he was not yet seven, his name-day was still four moon turns away, but mother insisted he go with. 'He's already younger than most his age. Do you want your son to be mocked for not knowing what they do?' she said, a hand clutching at her heavily pregnant belly. She was due any day now. Eddard reluctantly allowed it, wanting his wife to get to bed and didn't want to start another argument that would rile her up. Robb was much more mature for his age anyway. So he instructed Jory to have both Jon and Robb ready to ride out.
It was the late afternoon and he'd just finished rinsing himself off in the hot springs after a grueling session with Ser Rodrik. He was due for a lesson with Maester Luwin, when he was stopped by Jory who told him to get his pony; he was going to witness an execution.
Robb was nervous. This was his first-time accompanying father and Jon to see the king's justice done. For three years now he could only watch his brother ride out with father and the men, but now it was his chance to be watched by Arya and little Bran.
He tried not to fidget in his saddle. It would not do for the men to see his uneasiness. Let them not have anything that would make them doubt your future leadership. He kept his back straight and his eyes forward and did not look to Jon for any kind of assurances. He could do this on his own, he didn't need his brother to hold his hand.
Robb thought it might be a Wilding, but the man who awaited them was a deserter from the Night's Watch. He was shivering from the cold air, his breath released in sharp, quick bursts of steam. He was plainly frightened of what he knew his fate was. He's only a few years older than Theon, the thought made his stomach tighten. A boy.
Robb wondered how he ended up at the Wall. Was it because of a crime he'd committed, or was it so his family would have less mouths to feed? He knew both were likely to be the reason.
The Night's Watch was an honorable cause, but a cause many did not choose out of their own freewill, which led to desertion being common.
Whatever the boy's reasons were, he had taken an oath. Now he would face the consequences of breaking that oath. Beheading the boy would be the most honorable form of death.
Jory cut the deserter from the ropes, where he'd been tied to a tree, and dragged him before them. Robb looked to his father; he sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His trimmed beard was speckled with white strands, making him look older than twenty-nine years. His eyes were grim and seemed not at all like the man who'd once sat Robb on his lap and softly spoke to him of the Age of Heroes and the pact between the First Men and Children of the Forest.
Robb hoped he appeared the same to the men that surrounded them.
His father questioned the man, who answered in a quivering voice. The former brother wanted to return home to see his dying mother. He hadn't meant to desert. He would have returned eventually. Father turned more somber with every answer.
"An honorable reason," father said, his frown causing creases on his forehead. "But you understand that you've broken your oaths in doing so?"
The boy looked ready to pass out. "Y-Y-Yes, m'lord."
Father gave the command and two of the guardsmen dragged the boy to the ironwood stump in the middle of the square. They forced his head down onto the blackwood. Jory brought forth the sword 'Ice' - the blade of House Stark. Made of Valyrian Steel, spell-woven and dark as smoke, wider than a grown man's hand, and taller than Robb. Four hundred years old it was, and still as sharp as the day it was forged. Father told him that the name it bore of 'Ice' had once been the name of a legacy passed down from the Age of Heroes, when the Starks were still the Kings of Winter. The original blade was lost and was replaced with the current one held by his father.
"Any final words?"
"My m-mother … t-tell her, tell her… I didn't forget," tears rolled down his cheeks and he was shaking like tree leaves during a windy night.
Father nodded. "It shall be done," he peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the sword high above his head.
And brought it down.
The head was taken off with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, spurting from open veins, red as spilled summerwine. The head bounced off a thick root and rolled.
Robb couldn't take his eyes off; he followed the head until it stopped near one of the guards.
He'd seen his father kill and skin animals, seen the snows and roots around the Heart Tree drink their offering eagerly. He'd seen men bleeding in the tiltyard. He'd seen the droplets of his own blood, wiped from his legs with a wet cloth. This felt different. It came from a person, one who'd just been alive and talking only moments before. Now, Robb could see what was inside of him, what was beneath his skin.
Red like a weirwood. Red like dragon's breath. Red like a maiden's blush. [1]
Father handed the sword back to Jory and came over to where Robb stood. He put a hand on his shoulder, and Robb jerked from the sudden touch he had not been expecting. "You did well," father told him solemnly. "Do you understand why I did it?"
"He was an oathbreaker," Robb answered. He was already familiar with the laws of the North. "A deserter from the Night's Watch must be executed if he broke the oaths, no matter the reason."
Father nodded. "That's right, Robb. No matter the reason, honor and justice demands it. Do you understand why I must be the one to do it?"
Robb thought about his answer for a moment. "Because you're the Warden of the North?"
"Aye. The kings of the South have their own headsman. King Robert does, and so did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the old way. The blood of the first men flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the one who passes the sentence must swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. Look at me, son," Robb craned his head to look up at his father. The same grim look from before still present. "One day, you will be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind executioners soon forgets what death is, 'tis what my father told me, and his father before him. Do you understand now, Robb?"
"Yes, father."
"Good lad. Let's go back now," father turned away with a pat to his shoulder. Robb took a final glance at the headless corpse. Would he have to do this one day too?
Look into a dead man's eyes, hear him speak a final time, feel his sword slice through skin, and stand there as blood seeped into snow?
Robb felt a thrill go down his spine.
***Line Break***
When Robb returned enough time had gone by that it was well past Maester Luwin's class and a little before supper, so he spent some time with Arya and Jon. His mother would disapprove if she saw them, but Robb knew she'd say nothing while father was around.
When Arya heard they'd returned, she begged to go outside, and Lady Betha allowed her to leave and play until supper time. Sansa wanted to protest; Arya's stitches were crooked again, and she needed to learn how to do it properly if she didn't want to get in trouble. Lady Betha said it was fine, Arya was only four. There was plenty of time.
Father, at first, didn't want Arya to be with the boys in the courtyard, sternly telling her to attend lessons with Sansa and Lady Betha, but was met with deaf ears and promises that were broken the moment he turned his back. It seemed like he was the only one who was objecting - for certainly Catelyn wasn't - and he wondered why he even bothered. Eddard wasn't strict with having the girls stay out of the yard and practice needlework all day, but he didn't want to get into another battle with Catelyn after he'd already left her in charge of the children's education. His sister Lyanna often snuck around their father to spar with the boys and could ride with a lance, while the Mormonts of Bear Island were known to be fierce warriors. He felt assured that his daughter wouldn't be scorned by the North if she wanted to learn archery or swordplay, but he knew it wouldn't do for a Lord Paramount's daughter, especially if she wanted to marry South, to be spending entire days in the yard. It had been Lady Betha who reached a compromisation with Arya that if she did well in her morning lessons, then she could go out in the afternoon. Catelyn didn't protest, so he wouldn't either. So she spent her mornings with the girls doing needlework and other feminine arts, and the afternoon in the yard watching her brothers train.
Now she ran around the courtyard in breeches that were muddied at the knees, chasing after Jon with a wooden sword.
"Stop running away!" she was already panting and red from exertion.
"So you can hit me?" Jon was also breathless from all the side-stepping and body-swerving he had to do as he tried to avoid Arya's wild swings. "I don't think so!" He parried an oncoming blow and sent the sword flying from her hands. Before she could do or say anything, Jon threw down his own sword to the ground and catched her by the waist. Arya squealed as he spun her around in circles.
Robb watched them with a small smile. He could join in, but he was much too conscious of the eyes around the courtyard.
"Don't tickle me! I hate it!" she tried to escape from his fingers. He knew she hated it the most because she was ticklish and she wanted to punch him for it, but soon she was screaming with laughter.
Robb really wanted to join.
One of the maids showed up, just as Arya was going purple in the face, and ordered them to change as it was nearing supper now. Arya grumbled but followed them both to the Keep where they changed and headed to the Hall to sup. Jon stacked up on roasted duck, mixed vegetables and mash, and topped it all with thick gravy. Arya took a hefty slice of pigeon pie and vegetables. While Robb took some buttered beets and carrots, a thin slice of duck, and a slice of crusty white bread. They made their way to the lord's table where father and Steward Poole were deep in conversation about the latest shipments of grain from the Reach.
Sansa was already there and sat at a different table with Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel, and with Lady Betha overwatching them and making sure their table manners were proper.
Lady Betha was a widowed aunt of the current Lord of Raventree, Tytos Blackwood, before she was called upon by Catelyn to become Sansa's governess. Lord Stark forbade a septa - out of spite, she knew - and she wanted a real lady of the Court to be the one to teach her daughter. Catelyn wasn't a fool; she knew the Northerners would take offense if she were to call a pure southerner to teach Sansa and her son, so she compromised with a Blackwood. She reasoned that Lord Stark was the one who told her that northerners accepted Blackwood brides for Stark lords because of their First Men blood, so why should he not accept a Blackwood as Sansa's governess? He could at least give her that. So he relented and allowed her to send a raven to Lord Blackwood. Betha Blackwood - for she kept her own father's name after marriage- moved to Winterfell some moon turns later. She had no children and had no desire to remarry. They were loyal to Catelyn's father, so they should be loyal to her.
Lady Betha caught sight of them and narrowed her eyes.
"Damn," Arya swore under her breath, causing Jon to elbow her. She was forced to leave and at the girls' table where the Lady could see. Jon snorted in amusement and dug into his food. Sometimes it was good to be a bastard whom no one expected much from. Robb was also glad it wasn't his turn to be scrutinized. He liked Lady Betha well enough and enjoyed her teaching him more than he did when his mother thought Lady Betha was not satisfactory enough, but recently he began to hate it whenever anyone saw him eating. He preferred to do it where no one would be watching.
Robb had lessons with her three times a week to learn etiquette, courtesy, and dance. He saw the need for the middle one but did not understand why he had to know how to eat like a gentleman or how to perform southern dances. It was enough to know the common northern dances that were done regularly at feasts.
Sansa was enchanted by her governess who came from the South and had been to the Red Keep and spoke with the Queen, her admiration soaring even more when Lady Betha told her that her husband had once been a knight that attended many tourneys before being killed during a joust.
Sansa thought it was fantastical. Robb felt sorry.
He wondered if she missed her family. Robb would have, if father sent him to foster at another House. He couldn't imagine being away from any of his siblings and living with someone else's father and his children. So Robb was extra diligent in her lessons and wanted to impress her (and his mother - to his shame). Maybe that way she wouldn't feel like it was a mistake to come North.
"You aren't going to eat?" Jon asked when he noticed Robb was just staring at his plate.
"I am," he picked up his fork and took a piece of carrot. He didn't even like carrots, but Maester Luwin told him they would help with his growth. He wondered if the Maester only told him that so he would eat them.
"Today…" Jon started in a questioning tone, catching Robb's eye. Robb knew his brother well enough that there didn't need to be many words exchanged between the two of them.
"It went well," he said, grimacing a bit at the choice of wording. There wasn't anything 'well' about someone's head being chopped off. "I mean, I'm fine."
"You did good."
"Father said so too."
"That's because you did," Jon insisted. "You didn't blink or turn away. I heard Jory tell Ser Rodrik that as well. He said you reminded him a bit of father. He and the others that went with were impressed."
"That's because I saw father do it with animals before," he brushed it off.
"Aye, so did I, but I still blinked on my first time. You're doing very well," Jon smiled at him, causing Robb to flush at the genuine pride in his eyes and voice. He was always eager for validation from his elders, especially from father and Jon whom he admired the most.
It hadn't been easy. Keeping his face straight and emotions in check came easier to him than before, but it was still something he had to work on. He'd taken Lady Betha's advice and put away all the bad into a little box. Whenever he felt like he wanted to scream or say something that his mother wouldn't like then - 'breathe in' - Lady Betha's voice would come to mind. "Now put it inside the box…and breathe out. Don't let anyone see what's inside the box. Answer any rudeness with courtesy. Courtesy is both a weapon and an armor to be used against others."
Screw courtesy. Was ironically another thought that went into the box.
Robb, for one, did not believe in wearing two faces, just like his father didn't. "Don't speak in two tongues. Say what you mean." But he couldn't deny that he felt better putting everything that troubled him into Lady Betha's box.
Like today, he wasn't entirely sure of the strange feeling of agitation he felt, so rather than think about it he put it into his box. Jon bringing up this afternoon made the feeling briefly rear its head.
Robb breathed in, and out again.
Mayhaps he was a bit of a hypocrite.
***Line Break***
Early the next morning Robb attended his class with Maester Luwin.
Currently, they were busy with the Blackfyre Rebellions. It was one of the first things his mother wanted Maester Luwin to teach him, but the Maester told her it didn't make sense to start in the middle of Targaryen history, when he did not even know about the beginning of the dynasty or about what Westeros was like before the Conquerer. [2]
His mother wanted him to see that Daemon Blackfyre - a bastard said to resemble the Conquerer himself, tall and powerful, given the Sword of Kings by his father, half a god among mortal men, the Warrior himself when in battle, charming and likable - made the lords doubt the rightful king.
Just as they would look at Jon Snow - a bastard who resembled their father, dark-haired and dark-eyed, older and stronger, favored and held close by their father, gifted with arms - and they would wonder.
She wanted him to know what happens when a bastard got it in his head to rise up against the trueborn heir, and how there would be people who would support him.
It would only take a few whispers from the lords to name Robb a Falseborn, as they did with Daeron Targaryen. They would see the Bastard for everything he was not.
There was a time when Robb fell for his mother's whispers and developed nightmares that his brother would kill him in his sleep so father would legitimize him. It almost broke their bond. "Never again", he promised himself that night in the forest. "Never again will Mother come between me and my brother, or anyone else."
Maester Luwin began his lesson with the hatred between the South and Dorne, the dissatisfaction that arose from the marriage of Prince Daeron and Myriah Martell, the tensions between the prince and his father Aegon the Unworthy, rumors of bastardry and adultery, factions being formed, bestowing the Sword of Kings, Blackfyre, to the bastard Daemon Waters.
"The king must have thought Daemon a more worthy heir," Robb decided, when he heard about Daemon Waters being gifted the legendary sword.
"Did he?" Maester Luwin asked, always ready to engage in questioning with Robb. Especially now that the young lordling seemed to have opened up a bit since last year when he'd been withdrawn and sullen.
"He gave Blackfyre, the sword of the conqueror that he wielded since the Conquest, to his other son. Why give him the sword if that wasn't the case?" Robb wouldn't have gifted something important like that to just anyone if he didn't intend on it meaning something.
"Why give a horse to a man who cannot ride?" Luwin shot back. "Daemon was a swordsman, while Daeron was a scholar. The sword was not the kingdom, and Daeron had legitimacy while Daemon was a bastard."
"All the more reason to support Daemon," Robb said, already set on the whole matter. "A lord or king must lead his people into battle against their enemies, his men must see him shedding blood for them. That's what Ser Yobert says," and what Robb himself believed. He would never follow a king who couldn't wipe his own arse. "A king who cannot fight and defend his people is not worthy of being a king. Does bastardry matter if the heir is not worthy?"
Maester Luwin briefly looked shaken by that question and glanced quickly towards the door before continuing. "Bastards and younger brothers do not inherit for a reason. If anyone who has the same blood as the heir can claim to be king or lord because he is better or because he is more beloved, then the world will be chaos. Bastards, brothers, and sisters, mayhaps cousins, all fighting over titles."
Robb didn't object; not wanting to admit wrong or right, though he did see the sense.
Maester Luwin cleared his throat and went back to their lesson. He didn't feel comfortable speaking about such things with the young lord, lest they both got in trouble. "Simply because a man can lead people in battle does not make him worthy of a king. A good king does not have to be a great warrior to guard the realm and bring victory to the people. He has to be able to govern the people and make wise decisions. It was not Daemon who brought Dorne into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms. It was Daeron, who used his words to broker alliances for himself and his sister. It was Daeron who brought back order to the court that his father corrupted. King Daeron's rule stabilized the realm, whilst Daemon threw the realm into chaos by rebelling against a brother who allowed him to keep his title and who gave him lands. He was not fighting to overthrow a tyrant, or another Unworthy, but for himself and what he thought should have been his. They speak of the Dornish who whispered in King Daeron's ears, but Daemon was seduced by the whispers of rebel lords as well, all from Houses looking to improve their stations, such as the Yronwoods of Dorne, Reynes of the Westerlands, and even the Hightowers of the Reach. He was a means for them to gain power. I don't doubt Daemon Blackfyre's skill with a sword or his chivalry, but where was the morality behind the Rebellion?" [3]
"Daeron was a Falseborn…" he said petulantly, for the lack of nothing better to say as a defense.
"By the claims of people who hated him. And were you not just defending bastards only a moment ago?"
"Aye, and I still don't think he's a good king. We need a warrior king, one who can smash their enemies."
"And what if there are no wars to be fought or enemies to be found? Will a warrior king be good for the realm during times of peace? Oft times, a scholarly king is able to put down wars and rebellions better than your warrior king. Why, it was King Jaehaerys who handled a disruptive trade war, dealt with the Faith and the Shivers, and put down the Third Dornish Rebellion. He was also known as the Conciliator and the Wise, and his Good Queen Alysanne, whose long reign was filled with justice and stability, new laws and land improvements. It is a poor king, indeed, who wages battle against his own lords and leaves his own kingdom burned, bloody, and strewn with corpses."
"Like when he sent rebels to the Night's Watch and started a war that the Starks had to put down?" Robb said, pleased with himself for bringing up what he thought was a good point. He remembered the story well because father told them the story himself when they came across the statue of Walton Stark in the crypts.
Maester Luwin ignored him and continued on. "As for warrior kings, we've had some. King Maegor, who was personally handed Dark Sister by his mother and Blackfyre by the very Conquerer. He was a born warrior and personally put out rebellions himself. He was also known as the Cruel and a kinslayer, and by all accounts - a tyrant whose reign began with blood and ended with blood. King Daeron the first, the Young Dragon, a warrior beloved by the people, and 10 000 died for his desire to bring Dorne into submission. Another 40 000 died during the Uprising, and the Young Dragon himself was killed."
On he went, listing more Kings and Princes, Robb held his tongue that had the likes of Aenys I, Baelor the Blessed, and Aerys I on its tip. He did not care for Daeron the Good, Jaehaerys the Wise and his Good Queen who gave away northern lands, or whoever, and was feeling pettish about having all his points proven wrong, and Maester Luwin making sense. He wanted to go back to the Rebellion, but he kept his face straight, not wanting to openly show it. He knew it was bad manners to express disinterest when someone was speaking. Maester Luwin, already knowing when he'd lost the young lord, decided to spare him and move on.
"Where were we…yes, the sword. Remember that King Aegon had no love for Prince Daeron, or his mother. Who's to say he gave Daemon the sword because he was truly impressed, or because of spite?"
Robb didn't have anything to say to that. He had heard enough songs from Sansa to know of the tragic love between the King's sister-wife Naerys and their brother Aemon the Dragon Knight. Maester Luwin once again destroyed his argument. That did not mean that Robb would back down, however. He already made up his mind, and was determined to stick by it, no matter what Maester Luwin said.
While he discussed history and individuals with Maester Luwin, it was from Ser Yobert that Robb learned of the Battle of the Redgrass Field.
For Robb, his lessons with Ser Yobert were his favourite time of the day.
He loved listening to war stories and loved learning about it even more.
Ser Yobert Royce hailed from the cadet branch of House Royce, who held their seat at the Gates of the Moon as its Keeper. He'd fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings alongside the likes of Robb's grandfather Rickard Stark and uncle the Blackfish, Jon Arryn, Ser Gerold Hightower, Steffon Baratheon, Tywin Lannister and even the then-prince Aerys Targaryen. It was during this war that he was knighted.
When Catelyn sent a raven to her uncle requesting a teacher for Robb, he'd sent her Ser Yobert. She'd initially been ecstatic that her uncle sent her someone with a solid reputation and name, but immediately soured when she read the attached letter. It turned out Ser Yobert was a cousin of the Starks through Jocelyn Stark, the sister of Rickard Stark's father. She had three daughters and a son, Yobert, who was the youngest: making him Rickard's cousin, Eddard's cousin once-removed, and Robb's second cousin.
He was now an elderly man in his 60s with a bad limp that'd been given to him at the hands of a Martell spear during the Rebellion, but his mind remained sharp. Sharper than most, Brynden Tully believed. He'd listen to the man talk for hours about his love for history and ancient warfare from long-fallen Essosi Empires. When Catelyn asked for a teacher for her son, he immediately thought of the knight who could no longer hold a sword. When he made the proposal, the knight was quick to accept and expressed joy at visiting the castle his mother grew up in. He'd only heard stories, now he could see it for himself. [4]
Brynden thought he did good by his niece and great-nephew by sending a distant cousin, but Catelyn wasn't so grateful after learning the fact. She wanted people who would be loyal to her, not the Stark name. She could do nothing now, as it would risk insulting both the Royces and her uncle if she rejected him for no apparent reason. Even her husband who, at the beginning, hadn't been so open to the idea of Robb having a military teacher at such a young age when he already had Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik and thought it superfluous, changed his tune when he was reintroduced to a relative, who was his father's direct blood cousin no less. She looked on the bright side: it proved House Royce -albeit a cadet branch- acknowledged their blood ties and would honor them in the future, especially now that one of their own was the heir of Winterfell's teacher. He could call upon his cousins and nephews to Robb's aid. Catelyn never thought about the fact that that would make Ser Royce Jon's blood as well.
On the table was laid out a large map that Ser Yobert himself commissioned for their lessons, with figurines painted red on one side and the other side painted black. He limped around the table, moving the figurines around.
"Daemon Blackfyre's forces were almost certainly outnumbered; he had no Great Houses supporting him, and most of his supporters were made up of secondary Houses and knights who flocked to his side. But bigger numbers don't always mean a certain victory. Great results can be achieved with smaller forces, you only need to know how to use them. Such as defeat in detail - meaning engaging the enemy by destroying small portions of their armies instead of engaging its entire strength. Thinning them out with hit-and-run tactics, harassing their supply lines, implementing a number of different strategic maneuvers during the battle - I'll teach you more of this later. For now, in this battle, Daemon remained mobile; a good decision. Speed is needed for a smaller force. He launched surprise attacks, trying to draw King Daeron out into a pitched battle. It might not have been the best decision to engage them directly in battle, but all Daemon knew was that his army was quickly losing morale, and he needed a huge victory to prove his worth and gain more allies, killing a King would be a good start in doing so. He was to be disappointed, however, because King Daeron didn't take the field. He wasn't about to kill himself in a battle that he didn't need to take part in himself. He had allies and generals who were formidable in their own right. His heir, Baelor 'Breakspear', was a competent field commander as well as a strong knight, and his brother Prince Maekor was not far behind him in skill. Brynden Rivers commanded the finest intelligence network in the realm and led his own unit of archers, the Raven's Teeth. By all means, the loyalists had the most cards in hand." [5]
"It's hopeless then," Robb said. "The battle is over before it even begins."
"Not so quick, young lord. King Daeron had strong, capable commanders, but so too did Daemon. Both sides, you and the enemy, have different pieces to use," Ser Yobert said, tapping the wooden pieces. "It depends on how you use each piece. A great commander seeks out the best skills in his men and puts them in positions where they will most prevail. There is no such thing as a useless piece, only a leader who needs to fit it in where it would have use."
"How will I know?"
"By getting to know the men who are fighting for you, by mingling with them and seeing them for what they are and what they are not, by listening to reports after battle about who did what and how they did it, by watching each and every one no matter how small. Don't disregard the smallfolk or be afraid to use common soldiers and elevating their positions. Being a lord doesn't mean he is a good fighter or someone who can lead well; they might be inadequate, or too hungry for glory, or unruly. Take them from that position and find them another place, one that's both suitable for their skills and one that wouldn't be an insult. A battle is made up of both strategy and men. You must know both."
"But will my lords allow it if I give them such positions, or if I put a commoner in charge over them?"
"A piece will not always move the way you want it to move. That is why you need to make them believe that that position is best, explain to them why you did so and what you expect of them. Compliment them when they do right. Remain amiable and respectful, but not too friendly so they think that they can do things and you won't get angry. Don't show outward favour in ways that will make others feel small or insulted. Simultaneously you must make sure that they do not see you as someone who can be disobeyed, controlled, or ignored. Keep them in line, maintain order and discipline, do not show weakness. You need to show them that you know what you're doing and show them that the choices you make are right, by bringing in results."
Robb felt confused and overwhelmed. It was too many rules he'd have to think of when speaking to different people. Whenever Ser Yobert spoke of diplomacy and logistics and such, Robb would feel his head start to ache.
"You can learn it over time, Robb. Let's go back to the battle," Yobert shook his head. Robb was a brilliant child, but he could already tell that when he grew up he would be lacking in many areas, namely politics, forward planning, and tact. Contrary to what others thought, Robb's heart was not frozen over. He was an aggressive cyvasse player, was as subtle as a brick, and had little patience for schemes. He appeared outwardly calm and sensible, but Yobert knew he was strongly opinionated and would stick with what he believed even when proven wrong. It would definitely get him in trouble with the older lords. Yobert had no doubt that, however, that he would be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield if his talent was nurtured correctly.
"On the eve of the battle, one of Daemon's greatest supporters and key generals, Ser Quentyn Ball, who had won many previous battles, was slain by a common archer whose name is not even known. Lord Bracken, another of his supporters, had gone across the narrow sea to hire forces, but storms delayed him and the Myrish crossbowmen he'd hired. Never rely on a sellsword," Ser Yobert advised, once again cutting away from the Battle. It was something he did often, breaking away from their main topic to explain to Robb or advise him on certain things. Usually, it was filled with Ser Yobert's own experiences and life lessons, which Robb discovered were plenty. It always seemed like his teacher had been all over the world and walked through all paths of life himself, but Robb knew it was because he read a lot. His teacher was always reading different books on different things. Robb personally wasn't as fond of reading, he preferred holding a sword in his hand or moving pieces on a Cyvasse board, but he knew he'd have to if he wanted to be half as knowledgeable as Ser Yobert or Maester Luwin.
"A man who fights for coin is loyal only to his purse. Sellswords are said to have no loyalty, and freeriders no discipline. They're very useful, however, that is why lords will hire them despite considering them pitiless and unsavory. Most tend to be experienced soldiers. You don't have a lot of green young sellswords - some, sure, but not many. It's a job a man tends to choose after he's tasted a few battles and learned that he's decent at fighting. Extra men, no matter their origins, will always be needed during a war. They can be used for different things: scouts, outriders, foragers, light cavalry. You can send them to harass supply lines or burn down enemy lands. Here's the main point, no sellsword will flee from the winning side. If your hired swords are running away from you, it's because you're not on that side. You can never pay a sellsword enough to die for you; they don't get rich dying for their lords. Mayhaps, you'll end up with a sword through your back from a sellsword who decided the enemy's gold was much sweeter. If you're going to hire sellswords, then do so at the risk of supplying your enemy with more men." [6]
Robb nodded in understanding.
"When the Targaryens heard of Daemon's march on King's Landing, Prince Maekar organised the loyalist forces and went to confront the rebels. They met on an open plain, with the high Weeping Ridge anchoring their flanks. From the very beginning you should take note of the terrain surrounding you. Survey the area beforehand. Ridges, hills, cliffs, mountainous areas, and the like, should always be monitored and manned by your own, lest the enemy take the advantage of higher ground - as we'll see later with the Raven's Teeth.
"For the Blackfyre host, Daemon commanded the centre with Lord Costayne on the left and Bittersteel on the right. For the Targaryens, Donnel Arryn commanded the vanguard with the Kingsguard Commander Gwayne Corbray at his side, and Prince Maekar commanded the infantry from behind. Both forces had a vanguard of heavy knights in the centre, with a smaller contingency of lighter cavalry on the wings, and infantry behind. Always know the movements of both your own troops and those of your enemies. How are the infantry spread out? Where is the cavalry? Take note of the positions of the archers. Look at how your opponent is spread out and move your own men accordingly."
"Daemon began the battle by charging into the loyalist's cavalry frontline. They cut the opposing vanguard to pieces and scattered the remains to the rear; they did this despite the advantage the other side had. Mayhaps victory was written for them at this moment, but it wasn't to be. Daemon Blackfyre fought a duel with Ser Gwayne Corbray, who wielded the Valyrian Steel sword Lady Forlorn. It's said they fought for nearly an hour, before Daemon finally struck the knight down. Instead of breaking through the lines, the Blackfyre's honor would not allow for such a worthy warrior to pass away, and so he stopped in his tracks and ordered his men for Ser Gwayne to be taken off the battlefield for medical assistance. Never, ever, do something like this, Robb. It's foolishness. Daemon's chivalrous act would prove to be his downfall. His actions gave time for the Raven's Teeth, the archer company led by Brynden Rivers, to mount the top of Weeping Ridge to rain down arrows on Daemon and his sons, Aegon and Aemon, killing all three," Ser Yobert flipped over several of the black dragon figures from the map, moving them to the side where they could no longer be used.
"The pretender king was now dead, his vanguard destroyed, and his army scattered. Bittersteel rallied his right flank into a countercharge that almost broke through the loyalist forces, but at that moment, from the rear, came Prince Baelor with his host of Dornish spearmen and stormlanders, which he deployed like a 'hammer'. Prince Maekar rallied the rest of his host into the 'anvil' to charge at them from the front, and the two hosts crushed the Blackfyres between them. So tremendous was the slaughter that the blood seeped into the ground and turned the grass red, giving the battlefield its name." [7]
"Mayhaps if Daemon did not engage in single combat, he would have seen the archers moving away. Mayhaps if he had killed Ser Gwayne right then and there, he would have lived. Mayhaps with their commander and king still alive, the rebel forces would have won. Mayhaps Daemon's supporters would have been called the loyalists, while the red dragons would've been remembered as men who fought to keep the usurper, Daeron the Falseborn, on his false throne, and failed. So many what ifs, had one come out differently. But honor killed not just him, but his sons and his men as well. Honor cost him his war."
Robb was shaken. "But father … father says to always conduct ourselves with honor. Even your enemies should be treated with respect."
"Honor is good. For what is left of a man without honor? But when on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies and death, it has no place. It becomes a suit of armor that weighs you down and makes it hard to move. It's either you and yours or them and theirs. Your men will not praise you for your honorable actions if their brothers or sons are lying dead in the ground because of your code of honor. We praise Daemon Blackfyre now for his honor, but what of the men he led during that battle? Did they think it honorable? Did their wives, children and Houses think so too? Bloodraven saw an opportunity, and he took it. It might not have been the most honorable deed, but he saved many lives and spared the realm another Redgrass Field if Daemon had managed to win or escape."
By the end of it, Robb's face was scrunched up, and his fists were clenched at his sides. Ser Yobert held his silence, giving the boy time to take in what was just said. A big part of Robb agreed with what Ser Yobert said; it was right. Why engage in an honorable one-on-one duel with a knight when you carried not just your own life? Why help an enemy who is fighting on the other side that is killing yours?
Robb imagined himself with Blackfyre in hand, cutting through ranks of common foot soldiers and knights; nothing held an edge like Valyrian Steel does, his sword would easily tear through sword and armor just as easily as it could take a man's head. If he encountered someone worthy, whom he respected enough to want to spare, would he have spared them? Robb believed what Daemon had done was honorable, and he liked to think he would have done the same.
Robb thought of arrows piercing his skin; feeling the same pain as he died. He wondered what rang through the Blackfyre's head in his final moments. Was it regret? Robb would have felt regretful.
He thought of Daemon's sons who had also been killed, and his people following close after. Was it honorable? With that question, out of the blue came thoughts of Tywin Lannister. One of the greatest military leaders of the current time. Could he drown women and children to put down a rebellion, or do the honorable thing and spare them? Could he sack a city of people that had little to do with the actual war, and allow his men to rape and pillage? Could he kill the children of his enemies as a necessity?
"Aye, I understand," he started slowly. He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "But still, I don't want to be like Tywin Lannister. I won't drown a family in their own home or sack a city that has nothing to do with the war or kill children or the wives of my enemies. I won't."
Ser Yobert smiled grimly. "That is good and just, and you will be praised for your actions by both those present and later. Sometimes honor may not win power, but it wins respect. And respect earns power. You don't have to be like Tywin Lannister, or Brynden Rivers, or those who say they did it for the realm. Neither should you be like the Kings and Lords who spared rebels, only to find themselves having to put down another rebellion. Those are two extremes, both of which will be scorned by many. When you are lord, you will need to find a middle ground." [8]
When I am lord… His mind drifted back to the scene of a head rolling from its neck.
Red like a weirwood.
"That's all for today, lad." Yobert started packing the wooden soldiers back into a box, and it was Robb's time to leave and attend his next lesson, but he wanted to ask Ser Royce a question that he thought maybe the old knight would know how to answer more than Maester Luwin.
Red like dragon's breath.
"Yesterday father executed a Night's Watch deserter," he said softly. "He was so young. Only a bit older than Theon."
Ser Royce listened carefully, eyes fully on Robb.
"Justice and honor demanded father execute him, even though he ran away so he could see his dying mother," Robb hesitated. "I understand why, but… does justice really demand it? I don't doubt that deserters should be executed, but if someone commits a crime, and has a good reason for doing so, are they still to be treated the same as a common criminal?"
Ser Royce blinked, not expecting such a question from a young child, but was nonetheless not that surprised. "Not executing him, because he had a 'good' reason, makes the Night's Watch oath seem like a joke. An oath is sacred because no one can break it. What of the others before him then, and what of those after him? Rules are made to apply to the majority, and not the exceptions. If there were exceptions to a rule, then it won't be a rule that should be followed as it should be. Everyone will be calling themselves the exceptions, if that were the case. The same goes for every law in Westeros. You must set an example and uphold justice, so that the lords and smallfolk follow the law. Does that satisfy you?"
Did it?
Is the reason of whether it was right or wrong why he asked the question? Was it because he didn't receive a good enough answer that he didn't feel satisfied?
"Yes," he said instead, ending the lesson.
[1] Robb is referring to the flower Dragon's breath, and not actual fire that comes out from a dragon.
[2] Blackfyre Rebellions by AltShiftX.
Blackfyre Rebellion by CivilizationEx
Daemon Blackfyre by History of Westeros
Blackfyre Rebellions narrated by Varys
[3] Pretty sure I saw this on a Reddit Post, but I can't find it. Just to let you guys know that I don't take credit for this.
[4] Ser Yobert Royce is an OC, but it's true that a Jocelyn Stark married a Royce who might have possibly been from the cadet branch of the Gates of the Moon. It's this Royce-Stark marriage that Catelyn suggested Robb take his heir from. A real bi**h move in my opinion. Would you rather have a bastard who comes directly from the Lord of Winterfell and is the blood-brother of the king, or some distant cousin whose blood has already mingled over 4 generations with different families of the Vale? I can't imagine any of the Northern Lords going "ya! great idea!" at their new liege lord/king being some nobody from the Vale.
I legit walked myself into a wall with this one though. Yobert was supposed to be an elderly knight who was related to the Starks. Then I found out *gasp!* the ages didn't match up! He'd be Rickard Stark's age or older, but how if Jocelyn Stark only had 3 daughters, and their children would be around Eddard's age i.e. young children during the Ninepenny Kings time, and why would he carry the Royce name if his mother married a man with a different name. I was literally that confused white monkey meme. So I had to take some artistic liberties and Jocelyn Stark gained a son. Good for her.
[5] Defeat in Detail
[6] So Spake Martin : Mercenaries
Sellswords narrated by Bronn
[7] The battle and pictures of Redgrass Field were taken from Kings and Generals youtube channel.
Redgrass Field by Danielasoiafcompendium
Redgrass Field by Atlas of Ice and Fire
This is my first attempt at anything militaristic, even though it's just them talking about history. Initially this wasn't going to be in, but I realized I had to actually show Robb learning about war and strategy during his youth, instead of only mentioning that he had military tactical training from an old knight and then having him show up later in the Wot5K with big-brain moments. Which there will probably be a lot of since I don't intend on fully following how the war went down in canon, meaning I'll have to make Robb use his brains (and mine) on entirely new strategies.
I promise I'll watch videos on war strategy and past historical battles so I actually know what I'm talking about in future chapters.
[8] "Honor may not win power, but it wins respect. And respect earns power." - Quote by Ishida Mitsunari
Author Notes: Never thought I'd say it, but the Targaryens are actually very interesting. It's just Danaerys that I'm indifferent to. I think I might have liked her if she was a male.
I might actually add more Targaryen lore to the story than I originally planned, thanks to Targaryens like the Great Bastards, the Young Dragon, Aegon V aka Egg from Dunk and Egg, and Jaehaerys who has some of the best lines in Fire and Blood.
Alysanne: "They have made our daughter into a whore."
Jaehaerys the Goat: "She always was."
SAVAGE.
I read about Daemon Blackfyre, and somehow, I felt inspired. Like give-me-a-sword-and-ill-fight-for-you inspired, even though might have been a puppet/glory seeker and started a war that killed many people. Then I read about Daeron Targaryen, and I was like "eeeeh". I probably would have ended up on the traitors' side hit by an arrow had I been there during that time. Sucks. I feel like Robb who enjoys battles, stories of Theon and Cregan Stark, and the Dragonknight, would have also liked Daemon over Daeron, so I put a bit of that rebel-spice into his beliefs.
Finally, here's some memes for you guys I got during my research that I spent good minutes laughing at:
Another split chapter because of the length. Hope this one wasn't too boring with all the history-talk.
Unedited as of 8/11/22
