Carnacki23: Well they aren't twins, so they aren't doing the 'twin thing', per se, but they are very close. Obviously I'm not going to say how the relationship is going to change throughout the war and so on; but the reason they are so close right now is due to their upbringing. They didn't really ever have any other friends so they've not really had to care what their peers think about them and also they've come to rely on each other more than most siblings do' and what with their experiences, such as the horseback incident, they just don't have shame in front of each other. I will say that they are not having sex or even thinking about it, or pretending to be each other. They're not like Jaime and Cersei, Shireen fully understands that as a woman she has a different role to play than Lyonel, she isn't trying to be him. Obviously this is a complicated relationship, like most are, but I hope that answers your question.
His anger burned as hot as the camp around him.
"Why?" He asked, feeling his voice grate along his throat like a grindstone on steel. "Why is... why...?"
Lord Tytos Blackwood looked crestfallen at him. The lord had led a sortie out to support them when they had attacked the Lannister camp. The shield wall the enemy had formed fell apart when the Blackwood lord fell on them from Riverrun itself. He wore a cloak of raven feathers, and dark wings bring dark words, for a raven had arrived from the capital. "I cannot say, lord," he replied. "The raven said that Lord Eddard confessed his treason and was executed on the steps of Baelor's sept."
He curled his fists in his gauntlet. Everything he had come south for, gone, all his losses so far, they now meant nothing. Calm, Robb, a Lord must be calm in the face of his bannermen, or he will lose all his respectability. Robb closed his eyes. Yes father. "Lord Umber," he called his second greatest champion to him. "Take everything of value from the Lannisters and set up camp, then tell the lords to prepare to enter Riverrun. I must... be... alone."
"Of course, my lord," the Greatjon replied, in the most solemn voice Robb had ever heard him use. "Come on then you lot," he roared to the men. "Let's strip everything we can find and move on!"
Robb moved away, alone, even the members of his noble guards seemed to know he was not to be followed. Only Grey Wind accompanied him, his faithful wolf alone shared his sorrow. He retreated beyond the trees and, when there, he fell against a tree and slid down it, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Why, why had this happened? Father... dead... it shouldn't be possible. But it was. His father was dead, murdered, and he was lord of Winterfell. Grey Wind paced around until they were facing each other, his golden eyes looking into Robb's own.
He ran his fingers through the sleek fur of the wolf, feeling the power of the beast, the power of the Old Gods, the gods of the North. Had they abandoned his father? Did they forsake him? He shook his head. This was not the work of gods. This was the work of a king, a boy king. Grey Wind began to growl at him. He felt the heat of the wolf's breath on his face, the smell of blood on his jaws from the battle. "I won't let them get away with this," he whispered and pressed his forehead to Grey Wind's. "I swear it, I will get revenge. Father will receive the justice he deserves. Will you help me?"
Grey Wind seemed to nod, then looked back to the camps and the victory he had just won. "I am lord now," he reminded himself. "I will do my duty as lord, as father would have wished." He couldn't just leave or fall apart now. For Tristan and mother, for Bran and Rickon, for Sansa and Arya, for his Lords and vassals, he would be strong for them. They needed him, and he would be there.
They crossed the Trident on small boats, for the sluice gates had been opened and the moat completely encircled the castle. Grey Wind joined him, the Greatjon, Daryn Hornwood, Domeric Bolton, Lord Blackwood and his mother in the first boat. His mother had held her stoic strength throughout it all, not shedding a tear or letting out a cry of self pity. She had been stronger than he had, and he envied and pitied her in equal measure.
Not since his mother had brought him to Winterfell at the end of Robert's Rebellion had Robb been in Riverrun. He had no memories of this place. He wanted to see his grandfather, the room in which he had been born, where he would have first met his father. But there was something he must do first. His father said that he always prayed after battle. To give thanks to the Old Gods for the victory, and for his own survival, and the souls of those who had died for him. He would do the same.
Riverrun's godswood was for pleasure, not worship, that was easy to tell, but it still had it's heart tree. It wasn't a weirwood, but a great Oak. It would serve, and he knelt before it, joined by his lords bannermen and the northern men of his personal guard, as well as the Mormont ladies. They were joined by Lord Tytos Blackwood, one of the few lords south of the Neck who held to the Old Gods. Together and in silence, they prayed. He prayed for Tristan, that he was safe and unharmed following the battle, and that he would be able to deal with the grief that would come from his father's death. He couldn't think how he would though, he had spent a year away, then father had gone south shortly afterwards, how could he so easily deal with that? Then he prayed for the lost, for Owen Flint and Eddard Karstark, who had died saving him from the Kingslayer, he even prayed for Walton Frey, to whom he also owed his life, though it is unlikely that he ever looked at a godswood as a place of worship. Then for all the men lost in the battles they had faced, all the sons of lords and nobles that had come with him; for all the nameless faceless smallfolk who marched with Tristan. He didn't know what had happened there, Tristan could be dead with the entire army, or all of them could be, he prayed they were not.
His prayers finished, he got to his feet and left the Godswood, where he was met by Riverrun's maester. "My Lord Stark," he said. Robb felt his fingers curl before he remembered that the maester was just referring to him as a lord as befitting his rank, not because he was Lord of Winterfell, a role his father should still have been filling. "A raven came for you."
"For me?" Robb asked. But who knew he was here.
The maester nodded. "Aye, it came from the Twins." He held it out.
Robb took the scroll and slit the seal on it. The letters were none he recognised, but the name at the bottom was and, despite himself, and all that had happened, he smiled. Tristan had survived, and had probably had someone write the letter for him, he never was one or sitting still long enough to do so.
Robb
I sent this raven to Riverrun, for I know in my heart of hearts that you will make it there and be victorious. I write to tell you of my own defeat. I marched against Tywin Lannister, we met in battle along the Green Fork and lost. Thankfully he didn't pursue, thanks to Theon's activities in the battle and Lord Lannister apparently learning that you split the army, he fell back. I lost near four thousand men, but I hope it bought you enough time. We are at the Twins now and Lord Bolton is helping me regather the host.
I will await you here for your word on what to do next.
Your twin,
Tristan Stark
He had to call a war council in the next few days. Now they knew the fate of Tristan"s host, they must prepare the war to come.
They sat around the edge of the Great Hall of Riverrun. His uncle Edmure sat in the seat of the Tullys in the place of his father, and he sat opposite him, on the far side of the Hall. On his right was Lord Umber, to his left was his mother. Lord Karstark sat on the other side of Lord Umber, and the line continued, Lady Mormont, Lord Glover and Lord Tallhart as well, with members of his personal guard, especially those like Domeric Bolton and Daryn Hornwood, who's fathers were with his brother, sat on the other side of his mother. On the other side were the Riverlords. Lord Blackwood sat on one end so as to put as much distance between himself and Lord Bracken, who had arrived not long ago, driven off his land by Lannisters. Like Lord Bracken, men and lords began trickling in when they heard of the relief of Riverrun. Karl Vance came to Riverrun a Lord, and he had begun the war as a knight, and he came with Marq Piper and the new, young Lord Darry. At this council, all had the right to speak, and all were eagerly exercising that right. It was enough to grate on Robb's nerves. But still, the Riverlords were on his side now, and if he was to keep their armies united in battle and purpose, he would have to balance the needs of the Riverlords with his own Northern men. That his grandfather still lived lessened the tension, for Robb was the only Lord Paramount here, though Edmure was doing his best to fill that spot in the absence of old Lord Hoster.
At the Twins he had only three options available to him. March against Tywin, march against Jaime, or both. But now, he had more options available, as the south was tearing itself apart.
"The current course is clear," Lord Jonos Bracken declared, taking to the floor. "Renly Baratheon has been crowned at Highgarden, we should march south and join our forces with his."
They had received the news the day after Tristan's raven. Renly Baratheon had been crowned at Highgarden, wedding the Tyrell daughter and the banners of Highgarden and Storm's End were his own. But still...
"Renly is not the King," he reminded Lord Bracken.
Lord Karstark spoke up, thunderstruck. "You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey my lord, he ordered your father to death."
"That makes him evil," Robb agreed. "But I don't know that it makes Renly King. Joffrey is Robert's eldest trueborn son, and even if he were to die, and believe me, my lords, I intend to see that he does, it doesn't make Renly King. Joffrey has a younger brother, the boy Tommen, and even if he dies, then there is another brother between Robert and Renly. Tristan is my twin, yet he is the younger, if he cannot be lord of Winterfell before me, Renly cannot be king while Stannis yet lives."
"But what does Stannis have?" Lord Vance argued. "Renly has all the power of Storm's End and Highgarden to call on, Stannis has some ships and some men from the Narrow sea, and he will attempt to fight his brother and the Lannisters in one war."
"He has the right," Lady Mormont said. The hall broke down into bickering, should they back Renly's claim to the throne or side with Stannis Baratheon.
Tristan would likely favour the arguments of joining with Renly, it would be the best and fastest way of getting their own vengeance. But Robb was a lord now, he had more responsibilities, he had to defend his lords and people, and joining Renly Baratheon was leaving his allies to the mercy of Tywin Lannister.
"Why must we decide now," Stevron Frey, his father's representative spoke up. "Let the lions and stags battle over the Iron Throne, when the dust has settled and one side is ascendant, we can kneel to them or oppose them as we wish."
Robb was able to keep his face straight, but his lords were less able. Lord Umber openly called him a coward and others echoed the sentiment. But it did raise a point. Lord Tywin was still ravaging the Riverlands, and would have to be dealt with.
Lord Jason Mallister, a respected veteran stood up. "Whoever we support, Tywin Lannister is a threat. I say we prepare to remove him. We should gather our strength, straddle the supply lines to Casterly Rock and pick off his foragers."
"Why wait," Ser Marq Piper spoke up. The hotheaded knight was eager to repay Lord Tywin for the war so far. "With Lord Tywin in Harrenhal, I say we march on Casterly Rock, pay him back in kind for all the damage that has been done to the Trident."
That garnered some support, as did the suggestion of marching on Lord Tywin at Harrenhal. That option was supported by Lord Blackwood, and mostly other Riverlords who, Robb suspected, held lands in the south eastern Riverlands.
Then his mother spoke up. "Why not peace?" The lords and ladies looked to her, and Robb did as well, though he couldn't believe she had said that. "My lord is dead. Walton Frey, Eddard Karstark, Owen Flint, they are forever lost to us now. I want no more death of our valiant sons, and I want my daughter back. If it costs us four Lannisters, I call that a fair trade and thank the gods."
Lord Karstark called out for vengeance against the Lannisters before peace, and Lord Bracken added his own voice. "The Mountain ravaged my home, and I am supposed to kneel to those who sent him? Never!" Robb understood his mother's desire well enough, he wanted to see Arya and Sansa again as well. But what about father? How could he stand before his father's statue in the crypts with his death unanswered, his name left as a traitor? He couldn't, Joffrey Baratheon would pay for the crime of his father's murder.
Even the Blackfish seemed to agree that the war was not done. "Peace is sweet, but at what price, my lady?" He asked. "It is no use to beat your sword into a ploughshare if you must forge it again on the morrow."
"And peace with who? Lord Blackwood asked. "If we make peace with the Lannisters are we not traitors to King Renly?"
"You may all decide for yourselves," Marq Piper called out. "But I would sooner have both my legs cut off than go on my knees before a Lannister and call him my king."
Robb wanted to be able to comfort his mother, but how could he, no, they would answer for their crimes. "Mother," he said. "I know you loved father, but you are not alone in that. I loved him as well." He drew his sword and placed the point on the stone floor of the hall. "But this is the only peace I have for the Lannisters."
Shouts of support for that rose from both sides of the hall, but one voice could be heard above all others, a voice Robb was used to, but had not expected.
"My Lords," the Greatjon called over the clamour. "My lords!" The other's quietened to listen to the Lord of Last Hearth. "Here's what I say to these two Kings." He spat a huge gob of spit onto the stone floor and several northerners laughed, Robb let a smile creep across his face as well. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall, the Wolfswood or the Barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong." Robb wasn't sure where he was going with this, apart from Lord Blackwood, those who worshiped the Seven included their Riverlord allies. "And as to the Lannisters, they think they have the right to rule us after murdering our lord? Piss on that... the Others take them and their boy king. Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?" What. "It was the Dragons we bowed to, and Robert Baratheon earned our fealty. But the Dragons are gone, and Robert Baratheon is dead." He drew his sword and Robb's breath hitched, but Grey Wind didn't move, he sensed no danger.
Robb tried to keep his face still as the Greatjon turned to him and pointed his huge sword at him. "There sits the only king I mean to bend the knee to, m'lords. The King in the North!"
His heart froze. King. Him. But... no Stark had been a king in three hundred years. Not since Torrhen the Last bent the knee to Aegon the Dragon. Since then they had been ruled from the Iron Throne. But the Iron Throne had executed his father. The Greatjon was right. Why should they rule over them? What had they done to earn it? He was the Lord of the North. He could rule them properly, unlike Joffrey Baratheon or his Lannister supporters: He could protect them as their liege; be honourable as father, strong, just, and brave against his foes. He could do it. And he would make father proud.
He found himself standing tall and alone as the Greatjon placed his sword at his feet. But then Grey Wind stood as well, standing beside him as the heart of winter, the strength and history of house Stark supporting him.
"I'll have peace on those terms," Lord Karstark declared, rising as well. "They can keep their red castle, and their iron chair too." He lay his sword with the Greatjon's. "The King in the North!"
"For those who have fallen," Domeric Bolton declared, drawing his own steel.
"For those who are lost," Daryn Hornwood added, the two of them placing their steel down with the others. "The King in the North."
Lady Maege Mormont stood, her spiked mace in her hand. "The King of Winter!" She declared, joining her steel and knees to those of her fellows.
They were trusting him with a crown, Robb knew, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't disappoint them. The Greatjon broke the momentary silence. "The King in the North!"
And now they were all rising, the northmen got off their seats and placed their steel before him. But they weren't alone. The rivermen were rising too. Mallister, Bracken, Blackwood, Darry, Piper, Vance and more, men and lords who had never known the rule of Winterfell were pledging themselves to him, placing themselves under his protection, shouting words that hadn't been heard since the time of Aegon the Dragon.
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"
