Note: Large segments of this are copied or slightly adjusted from A Storm of Swords by George RR Martin.
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CHAPTER 3: The Heart's Folly
Robb and his party returned to Riverrun, where he had left his mother only a few weeks ago, days after he had sent the letter to the Wall, to much fanfare and much anger. He also returned with a wife.
Horns blasted to announce his return. Robb wheeled his horse around as he passed through the castle's gates and looked for his mother. But she was not to be seen. According to Ser Edmure, much to Robb's slight anger if not surprise, his mother had been confined to her father's chambers so she may sit with him as he died and as punishment for her crimes. She had released Jaime Lannister, a captive taken by Robb himself. According to the letter he'd received from the soon-to-be lord of Riverrun, she had done it in a bid to trade Jaime for his sisters Sansa and Arya. Edmure had sent Ser Robyn Ryger and some men to retrieve the Kingslayer. Ser Edmure had put it out that Jaime had escaped, as well. Apparently, Ser Robyn had indeed found him, in company with a Frey cousin of Jaime's and a woman called Brienne of Tarth. Brienne had been sent to protect Jaime and see him safely to King's Landing and in turn to see his sisters safely back. Robb had wondered at why until Ser Robyn told him to lady wore chainmail and sword. Remembering how Ser Robyn had failed to bring back the high value captive still made Robb's head dizzy with anger. Anger he couldn't direct at his mother, he knew, thinking uncomfortably of the wife who had rode at his side on the way to Riverrun.
He had at first wondered if freeing Jaime was some sort of revenge on his mother's part for his plan to legitimize Jon and the letter he has sent, against her wishes and those of most of his council, to relieve Jon of his vows on the Wall. He had quickly dismissed this quickly. His mother didn't have revenge in her. She was grief stricken. The things he did for love, he thought, and again his mind went to the lady he had taken as wife.
When he had arrived at Riverrun he was met by a group of the Frey's. Word has spread of his wife, and he could see on their faces there would be no denying what had happened. Not that he would deny his gentle wife. He could see also on their faces that there would be no appeasement for this slight.
In the end, they had turned to an argument in the yard that lay before the castle, barely inside its gate. He couldn't- and didn't- stop the Frey's from riding out then and there, although it made him tingle with dread to see his banner stomped into the muddy ground. He winced when the last of the Frey procession (about forty men, in all), Ser Walder Frey, had rode his horse over it and the direwolf was soaked through with grim. To his regret, he'd been subdued the entire confrontation, preferring to hang in the back and allow his knights to yell among themselves. He had intervened too late to even attempt to calm the Freys, and they had left. He watched them go in all their might back to the now forsaken ally of Lord Walder and all his. Miserably, he thought of the fifty swords he'd won when he married Jeyne. He nodded to Olyvar, his Frey squire, as the lad was dragged through the castle walls and away by a Frey Robb didn't recognize. The sight made him sad, and slightly angry. He shoved that down though. Anger did not become him, and he was a king now. When he raised a hand in farewell to Olyvar though, the squire had raised one back before finally riding on his own.
Worse, when he had entered the castle, he had had to endure Edmure boasting of the 'victory' he had won over Tywin Lannister. Gritting his teeth so hard he had given himself a slight headache, he managed to smile and nod with Ser Edmure. Luckily Edmure didn't seem to expect more than that from him, and the men around him were too entranced by Ser Edmure to notice anything was wrong. He had to stop the Blackfish from angrily telling off his nephew in front of everyone though.
Robb had just won a battle. But it didn't feel like it, here in this castle of men he was meant to rule.
Finally, having had enough of his uncle's boasting, he had ordered Ser Desmond Grell to fetch his mother.
When she had entered, Robb finally put a stop to his uncle's talk.
"Make no mistake, though. The Lannisters will march again, and there will be other battles to win before the kingdom is secure." To his own ears, the words sounded strained. The room was packed, and he hoped no one had noticed.
Evidently, they hadn't, for the next instant the Greatjon had taken to his feet and roared out, "King in the North!"
The rest of the room took up the call. "King in the North! King in the North! King in the North!" The call was then nearly drowned out by the stamping of feet and pounding of fists. Robb made himself smile as he raised a hand for quiet and finally met his mother's eyes. Apprehension stirred in his stomach.
Ser Brynden jumped off the dais he and his queen were sat on with others of her family and went to meet Lady Catelyn. Robb had been extremely relieved to know that the Blackfish was not very angry with his mother. When they split Robb made himself meet her eyes again.
"Mother."
She peered up at him with a strange look in her eyes he didn't recognize. He wondered what she expected from him. He was her king, and she had disobeyed him and harmed his war effort, but reprimanding his mother was not something he wished to do.
"Your Grace, I have prayed for your safe return. I had heard you were wounded."
"I took an arrow through the arm while storming the Crag. It has healed well, though. I had the best of care."
"The gods are good then." His mother paused and seemed to be gathering something to her even as she gathered air in a deep breath. Robb watched her apprehensively. "They will have told you what I did. Did they tell you my reasons?"
He was glad she had addressed it. "For the girls."
"I had five children. Now I have three."
Two, he thought but did not say it. He didn't have it in him to yank Arya away from her, not now, though he knew his sister was dead.
Before he could say anything, Lord Rickard Karstark emerged from the crowd, shoving his way through the Greatjon as he did. He was angry, and so was his voice as he said, "Aye, my lady. And I have one son, who once had three. You have robbed me of my vengeance."
His mother's composure was not shaken, although Karstark had grown quite loud, and his eyes were cold as he glared at her. "Lord Rickard," she said, "the Kingslayer's dying would not have bought life for your children. His living may buy life for mine."
"Jaime Lannister has played you for a fool. You've bought a bay of empty words, no more. My Torrhen and my Eddard deserved better of you."
The Greatjon must have found that as unworthy as Robb did, for his mother had flinched noticeably at the name of Lord Rickard's second son, who had been named after her husband. He stepped forward and said, "Leave off, Karstark. it was a mother's folly. Women are made that way."
When Lord Rickard rounded on the Greatjon, Robb thought for a moment of speaking himself to calm him, but no, Lord Rickard had a right to say as he would, and shutting him up now would not help, merely leave the conflict to brew out of sight.
"A mother's folly?" Lord Karstark's face was fury itself, and terrible with grief. "I name it treason."
But Robb knew he had to shut down that particular line of thought before it spread. "Enough! No man calls my lady of Winterfell a traitor in my hearing, Lord Rickard." He then looked to his mother and made himself speak softly. "If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent... but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love's not always wise, I've learned." And had he ever. "It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts... wherever they take us. Don't we, Mother?"
She hesitated for hardly a moment. "If my heart led me into folly, I would gladly make whatever amends I can to Lord Karstark and yourself."
But Lord Rickard would not hear it. "Will your amends warm Torrhen and Eddard in the cold graves where the Kingslayer laid them?" With that, he stormed from the hall. Robb let him go, privately relieved, although he knew he had not heard the last of this from Karstark.
"Forgive him, Mother," he said as Karstark vanished from sight.
"If you will forgive me."
"I have," he said, and saw the relief cut through the grief hardened lines of her face. She looked younger then, but a moment later Robb had blinked and before him stood a tired woman almost unrecognizable as his mother. Grief had aged her, and he wondered what it had done to him. "I know what it is to love so greatly you can think of nothing else."
His mother looked to the ground. "Thank you."
And then the moment was fast arriving. "We must talk. You and my uncles. Of this and... other things. Steward, call an end."
Utherydes Wayn did that, loudly, and the river lords and northerners drained from the hall. There were a few minutes of the noise of people moving and talking, and Robb watched as his mother spoke in turn to Lady Mormont, Galbart Glover, Lord Jason Mallister, Jonos Bracken and finally Ser Edmure. Finally, they were alone in the Hall. Besides Robb himself, the three Tully's were left as were his wife and those she had brought with her to his cause. He caught his mother looking them over curiously. Several times her eyes flickered to Ser Raynald's sigil of seashells. She seemed not to recognize any of them, and Robb felt a bit of dread creep up his back as he reluctantly roused himself to speak.
But his mother beat him to it. "My lady, sers, are you new to my son's cause?"
"New," said Ser Raynald, "but fierce in our courage and firm in our loyalties, as I hope to prove to you, my lady."
Robb hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. "Mother, may I present the Lady Sybell, the wife of Lord Gawen Westerling of the Crag. Her husband was one of those we took captive in the Whispering Wood."
He thought his mother recognized them, for her face had changed, but he wasn't sure.
He continued, "Ser Rolph Spencer, Lady Sybell's brother. He was castellan at the Crag when we took it. The children of Lord Gawen and Lady Sybell. Ser Raynald Westerling. Elenya. Rollam Westerling, my squire."
At Jeyne's urging he had named Rollam as his squire even as Olyvar rode hard from Riverrun that morning. It had made him sad to do it, but he had agreed when he'd met Rollam, a happy youth of twelve who was eager to serve and dear to Jeyne.
Lady Catelyn had looked to them in turn. "The honor is mine," she said. He thought she looked slightly troubled, but he wasn't sure why. He hadn't even told her his news yet.
Jeyne came forward then and took his hand. She had been anxious about meeting his mother, and Robb could see it on her face now. She squeezed his hand. "Mother," Robb said, "I have the great honor to present you the lady Jeyne Westerling. Lord Gawen's elder daughter, and my... ah... my wife."
He watched his mother as she thought, watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise as she looked at him and then her face grow pale with realization as she took in the girl next to him. He wondered if she had heard the commotion that morning as he arrived and the Freys left. It had certainly been loud enough. Her face hollowed. Robb grimaced. Jeyne squeezed his hand once more and then dropped it, drawing herself to her full height and summoning her courage to look her mother-in-law in the face.
Thankfully, his mother took this development with grace. She stepped forward and took both of Jeyne's hands in her own and smiled, rather wanly. She said, rather stiffly, "I have a new daughter." She kissed Jeyne on both cheeks, and Robb felt a rush of gratitude to her. "Be welcome to our hall and hearth."
Despite being clearly terrified, Jeyne's voice was strong as she said, "Thank you, my lady. I shall be a good and true wife to Robb, I swear. And as wise a queen as I can."
Robb sat up slightly and knew it was his turn to speak. But before he could, Lady Sybell had taken one of her daughter's hands and said, "We are honored to be joined to House Stark, my lady, but we are also very weary. We have come a long way in a short time. Perhaps we might retire to our chambers, so you may visit with your son?"
"That would be best." Robb stood and kissed his wife before continuing, "The steward will find you suitable accommodations."
"I'll take you to him," Ser Edmure Tully volunteered.
"You are most kind," said Lady Sybell. Her face was to Edmure now, and Robb as well. She had been speaking true about her weariness. He could see it as he looked at her lined, if beautiful face. He wondered if that was what Jeyne would look like when they were older... and he wondered if he would look more like his own father as he grew old. He hoped so but thought not. He had always favored his mother's side, after all, as had Sansa. It was Jon and Arya who had the look of their father.
"Must I go too?" asked Rollam from next to him, truly sounding his age. "I am your squire."
Robb forced a laugh. "But I'm not in need of squiring just now."
"Oh."
"His Grace has gotten along for sixteen years without you, Rollam," Ser Raynald broke in. "He will survive a few hours more, I think." He put a hand lightly on his brother's arm, then took his hand and steered him from the hall. The others of his family followed him. Robb kissed Jeyne again, and watched her go, a smile rising unbidden to his face.
"Your wife is lovely," his mother said a few moments later, when they were alone. "The Westerlings seem worthy enough... though Lord Gawen is Tywin Lannister's sworn man, is he not?"
Exhaustion threatened to down Robb, and he retook his seat. "Yes. Jason Mallister captured him in the Whispering Wood and has been holding him at Seagard for ransom. Of course I'll free him now, though he may not wish to join me. We wed without his consent, I fear, and this marriage put him in dire peril. The Crag is not strong. For love of me, Jeyne may lose all."
It was a thought that had been haunting him chronically since he had married her. Now the heaviness it brought to him was familiar.
"And you," his mother said, not looking at him, her voice soft, "have lost the Freys."
He hoped he didn't wince. Robb said, as clearly has he could, "Yes."
"Dare I ask how many swords come with your bride, Robb?"
Miserably he answered. "Fifty. A dozen knights... Jeyne is bright as well as beautiful. And kind as well. She has a gentle heart."
A pregnant pause. Robb knew his mother was thinking of the Freys he had lost. Lord Walder had sent Robb off with a thousand mounted knights and almost three thousand on foot when the marriage contract had been made. The fifty he had gained with his wife was a bad joke.
He was relieved when all she said was, "Tell me how this came to be."
Robb did just that. He told his mother how after he had taken the Crag, he'd been wounded in the fighting. As such, he had been tended by the Maester at the Crag. But the wound has festered by the time the chaos of battle and establishing his own men in the castle had finished. At one point he had been near collapse, and Jeyne had been on hand to see it. She had called for men to carry him to her own bed, such as her concern. She nursed him until the fever had passed, and Robb would never forget the kindness she had shown him, and the care in her eyes as she looked at the man who had, as it were, taken her home from her. She had been with Robb when the Greatjon had told him of Jamie Lannister's release. Finally, he said, "That night, she... she comforted me, Mother."
Thankfully Lady Catelyn did not need him to spell it out for her. "And you wed her the next day."
Robb met his mother's eyes. "It was the only honorable thing to do. She's gentle and sweet, Mother, she will make me a good wife."
"Perhaps. That will not appease Lord Frey."
"I know," as Robb said it, the reality crashed down around him again and he felt sick. "I've made a botch of everything but the battles, haven't I? I thought the battles would be the hard part, but... if I had listened to you and kept Theon here as my hostage, I'd still rule the North and Bran and Rickon would be alive and safe in Winterfell."
He waited for her anger. Instead, he got her kindness, and was glad for it, if still miserable. "Perhaps. Or not. Lord Balon might still have chanced war. The last time he reached for a crown, he lost two sons. He might have thought it a bargain to lose only one this time." She was silent for a moment and gently touched his arm. "What happened with the Freys, after you wed?"
He shook his head, grimacing as he thought again to the confrontation that morning. "With Ser Stevron, I might have been able to make amends, but Ser Ryman is dull-witted as a stone, and Black Walder even worse. He went so far as to say his sister would not be loath to wed a widower. I would have killed him for that if Jeyne had not begged me to be merciful." And after that, he was happy to see the man gone.
"You have done House Frey a grievous insult, Robb," was all his mother said, telling him what he already knew.
"I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal as squire as any king could want. He asked to stay with me and had to be dragged away when they left. All their strength left... the Greatjon urged me to attack them..."
That raised her eyebrows. "Fighting your own in the midst of your enemies? It would have been the end of you."
"Yes. I thought perhaps we could arrange other matches for Lord Walder's daughters. Ser Wendel Manderly has offered to take one, and the Greatjon tells me his uncles wish to wed again. If Lord Walder will be reasonable-"
"He is not reasonable. He is proud and prickly to a fault. You know that. He wanted to be grandfather to a king, not uncle by marriage to Lord Umber. You will not appease him with the offer of two hoary old brigands and the second son of the fattest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Not only have your broken your oath, but you've slighted the honor of the Twins by choosing a bride from a lesser house."
Robb's shoulders stiffened and he hoped he didn't look or sound too argumentative as he said, "The Westerlings are better blood than the Freys. They're an ancient line, descended from the First Men. The Kings of the Rock sometimes wed Westerlings before the Conquest, and there was another Jeyne Westerling who was queen to King Maegor three hundred years ago." The Maester at the Crag had excitedly told him about the first Queen Jeyne Westerling, seeking Robb out after their wedding.
He talked more with his mother and Ser Brynden. Finally, Ser Edmure rejoined them, and Robb sat down to address the error Edmure had been bragging about all day.
Edmure was telling it to his uncle, again, when the Blackfish interrupted and said what Robb had been itching to hear since that morning. "I think we've all heard sufficient of your boasting, Nephew."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Moreover, you owe His Grace your thanks for his forbearance. He played out that mummer's farce in the Great Hall so as not to shame you before your own people. Had it been me, I would have flayed you for your stupidity rather than praising this folly of the fords."
"Good men died to defend those fords, Uncle." Edmure was outraged, having not caught on to what the Blackfish was saying yet. "What, is no one to win victories but the Young Wolf? Did I steal some glory meant for you, Robb?"
Robb shoved down his anger as best he could, keeping a tight grip on it. It was just pride, anyway. "Your Grace," Robb corrected coldly. "You took me for your king, Uncle. Or have you forgotten that as well?"
Ser Bryndon spoke up, his voice remarkably even. "You were commanded to hold Riverrun, Edmure, no more."
"I held Riverrun, and I bloodied Lord Tywin's nose-"
"So you did," said Robb. This was the part he should have explained better to Edmure, he guessed. But he hadn't thought he had to. "But a bloody nose will not win this war, will it? Did you ever think to ask yourself why we remained in the west so long after Oxcross? You knew I did not have enough men to threaten Casterly Rock or Lannisport."
"Why..." Edmure was unsure now, and he heard it in his voice. "... there were other castles... gold, cattle..."
Robb looked at him in disbelief. "You think we stayed for plunder? Uncle, I wanted Lord Tywin to come west."
Ser Bryden had worked himself back into as much of a rage as he ever acquired. "We were all horsed, Edmure. The Lannister host was mainly foot. We planned to run Lord Tywin up and down the coast, then slip behind him to take up a strong defensive position at the gold road, at a place my scouts had found where the ground would have been greatly in our favor. If he had come at us there, we would have ripped through is men like nothing! If we had fought there, he would have paid a grievous price, and we would have rapped him in the west. A thousand leagues from where he needed to be. All the while we would have lived off his land instead of him living off of ours."
Robb spoke up, idly. "Lord Stannis was about to fall upon King's Landing. He might have rid us of Joffrey, the queen, and the Imp in one red stroke. Then we might have been able to make peace with Tywin. Then this might have been done."
Edmure was horrified and stared from his king to his uncle. "You never told me."
"No. I did not. But I did tell you to hold Riverrun, Uncle. What part of that command did you not understand?" He might have felt ill at odds chastising his mother when she made a mistake, but berating his uncle was something that almost brought him joy.
"When you stopped Lord Tywin on the Red Fork," the Blackfish said, "when you bloodied his nose, it allowed word to reach Lord Tywin of what was happening in the east. He joined his host to that of Matthis Rowan and Randyll Tarly's and swept to Tumbler's Fall where he joined Mace Tyrell half a day's ride for King's Landing and moved to destroy Stannis's army from behind."
Robb thought for a moment that, with his error laid before him, Edmure might throw up. He certainly looked sick. "I never mean... never... Robb, you must let me make amends. I will lead the van in the next battle!"
"The next battle? Well, that will be soon enough. Now that Stannis finished and Renly dead, the Lannisters will retake the field as soon as Joffrey is wed to Margery Tyrell. Except that when Tywin does, it will be with the Tyrells. The Ironborn hold Winterfell, Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte and most of the Stony Shore. Up and down the coast, my northmen suffer their attacks on the daily! I have lost Winterfell, lost my brothers, lost the north, and now I am the foe closest to the Lannister and Tyrell armies, who, I would wager are at least considering an alliance with the Ironborn, and I may need now to fight the Freys' as well, if Black Walder has his way..."
He wondered if the bells they had tolled at the Crag for his wedding had been the sound of his defeat, early. If the direwolf banners ripped from Winterfell when Theon took it would be the first of many. He wondered if he had just summarized how he had lost this war, and likely the head of everyone in this room with him, and many outside of it. In the silence after Robb spoke, no one dared say anything. Just as he had, they had grasped the seriousness of what had happened recently. A moon ago he was winning this war, and now...
"But never mind," he said, and his voice was tight to his own ears. He struggled to keep his composure. For the first time he was aware he was standing. He sat back down heavily. "I am tired of speaking of this. I will speak now of Jon. I was told we had received a letter from the Wall?"
Edmure had not met his eyes for the last five minutes, but now no one else wanted to either. Finally, the Blackfish stepped forward and said, "We have, Your Grace. Uh... it seems..."
Robb had never heard the Blackfish say 'uh' before or hesitate so much as he did now. His heart dropped to his stomach. Keeping in line with how things were recently, he prepared himself to hear news of his brother's death. "What is it?"
"There are... disturbing reports, Your Grace." He hesitated again. "The letter came from Donal Noye, who has command of the Wall currently. He reports that Lord Commander Mormont has taken a ranging of men beyond the wall to investigate reports that wildlings have abandoned every village his rangers have come across. According to Noye, Mormont believed that something was brewing and needed to see it with his own eyes. He tells me Jon Snow had been appointed to the Stewards and was Mormont's personal steward-"
"The stewards?" Robb could not believe it. He, and Jon, had been sure that between the stewards, who cleaned and cooked, the builders who built and maintained the Wall and the Rangers, who journeyed beyond the Wall, Jon had been destined for the rangers. Like their uncle.
Ser Brynden shrugged. "That's what he tells me. If I may, Your Grace, it is a known practice on the Wall to groom a new recruit for leadership to assign them as the Lord Commander's steward. It's been done many times before. I cannot speak to if that was happening in this case, but it would be my guess."
Robb settled. That made sense to him, he supposed. It sounded a bit like what Lords did with the heirs (and what his father had been starting to do to him before he left for King's Landing) to prepare them to lead. Jon would have gotten to sit in on meetings, and read and write letters, and work closely with Lord Mormont. He supposed that made sense. Although it made him slightly uneasy. Would Mormont agree to part with Jon? Mayhaps the Blackfish was right, and it would be akin to a wound to take Jon from them. But it didn't matter. He needed Jon more than they did.
"Continue."
His great uncle did. "And... Mormont and his party, including Jon Snow, set out to investigate these missing wildlings little over a moon ago. Noye has reports that... this is the disturbing part... apparently Jon Snow was sent with Qhorin Halfhand to track some wildlings on foot... Now this isn't a confirmed report, but one of Mormont's scouts claims to have witnessed Snow's party fallen upon by Wildlings."
Robb's heart fell to his stomach.
"Apparently Qhorin Halfhand was slew. The scout doesn't claim to have seen what happened, but after the Wildlings left, he saw the Halfhand's body with his own eyes... He saw the Halfhand, dead, as well as two others who had been of the party. There were five altogether, however. Jon Snow was not to be found, nor another brother. The scout then pursued the wildlings to see what had become of Jon Snow and this other unnamed man... The scout later found the body of the unnamed man... and claims to have then seen the wildling party trekking further North, apparently he was in low land and behind them and could see them unnoticed."
Here the Blackfish stopped, but only for a moment to look solemnly at Robb.
"Continue," Robb said again. This time his voice was strained and low.
Ser Brynden's mouth turned, and he said, "He claims that Jon Snow was with this small group of Wildlings, Your Grace... Here, Noye writes... the Wildlings have never been known to take prisoners, Your Grace."
Robb grasped what he was being told quickly, and hot anger made him jump to his feet. Truly, it was too much to be borne. "My brother would not join the wildlings, Ser!"
The Blackfish bowed his head. "Be that as it may, Robb, there is one other thing."
Robb knew it must have been horrible, because he had never heard his mother's uncle call him by his first name, at least not since he had been made King in the North. He tried to say something, but his mouth was suddenly dry. And he felt dizzy again. It had been a trying day; he thought oddly and sank back to his seat.
"What is it?" It was his mother's voice. He turned to look at her, taken aback to find her pale and staring at her uncle with wide eyes. Although she had never liked Jon, it seemed she was taking the news they were hearing with difficultly.
"Qhorin Halfhand's body bore concerning marks, Your Grace. His throat had been slashed by a blade... but his leg had nearly been torn off his body. The scout said it had been done by an animal, but none of the flesh had been eaten. Here Noye takes care to mention that Jon Snow kept his direwolf with him at all times, and the animal is exceedingly loyal to him."
"Oh... my brother would not join the Wildlings," Robb said again, feeling odd and very young. But then... if Jon had had Ghost with him... as big as Ghost surely was now, there was no way Jon would have been taken captive by what Noye had called a "small group of Wildlings," not in a million years. "There must be more to the story. Perhaps the scout just missed where flesh had been eaten and another animal had come across the body, and he simply scared it away with his approach."
He looked around the room for support but was met with stares. Everyone was looking at him oddly, he saw. Robb looked to the Blackfish for support. His face was unusually soft, but solemn.
"Perhaps, Your Grace... it could be so... but there is something else you must know."
Dread was rekindled, if it had ever died in him.
"What?" His voice was hardly a whisper.
"Donal Noye seems fairly convinced of these reports. He says it is his right as he is acting commander of the Wall in Mormon's absence, and with Snow as a deserter... he has sworn to take Jon's head the moment Jon is next seen, Your Grace."
