Daemon Blackwater: Thanks for the praise, it really means a lot! Lyonel isn't all that charismatic though, and there are a lot of ifs in there.

JaceMaddox: Well Stannis wasn't directly implicated in the books. Loras himself blames Brienne until way later. All the evidence they have is that Renly was in a tent with Brienne and then he died and she was gone, so I'm not sure the Tyrells would go grovelling in that situation. But you're right that Lyonel isn't wholly adverse to the idea, Loren may well have misjudged badly.

Faenor-dutch: No Tyrion POVs for at least the foreseeable future, sorry.


The Young Wolf had planned a campaign that required navigating an impossible barrier. The mountains of the Golden Tooth rose high and imposing on to the west. On this side of them the foothills were slight and small, with the Mountains coming as though some great giant had slammed a shield of rock into the earth and left it there as a barrier between the river Trident and his hoards of gold sheltered behind. Robb knew that it was not the same on the other side, the foothills there were far more numerous and large, so that the slope of the mountains seemed less severe. He had to find a way across this barrier, he couldn't wait for the Lannister host to be formed and come to him, every day he waited his men grew tired. Crossing the main pass at the Golden Tooth may have been possible, but the garrison, reinforced by the survivors of the Battle of the Camps, would be strong, they may resist, and the castle would report his crossing to both Lord Tywin and the new host forming near Casterly Rock. The long term option would be to ride hard to the south and circle underneath the mountains, rising from the south. But that could take too long, Stafford Lannister's host could be prepared and march on Riverrun from the west, and he wouldn't be there to stop it. However, it was the option he would take, unless he could find a way through the mountains here.

His scouts had found nothing, no traversable routs, no small passes, nothing. "Perhaps we should strike for the south, Your Grace," the Greatjon suggested. "The men grow restless, and wish to battle."

Robb nodded. "We set up camp, and search up here for one more day," he said. "Then we ride south," he couldn't delay longer. Stafford Lannister's host would not be strong, not now. It would be made up of sellswords scrounged from across the west, lured by Lannister gold and un-concerned by the Stark victories; it would be the stews of Lannisport, green men and boys given their first spears. They would have to be drilled, he knew that much. This host would be drilled, then it would march to the Golden Tooth, join arms with the veterans who had retreated there and another host, the size of Jaime Lannister's would be descending on his rear, but he would stop them before that happened. Lord Tywin wanted him to either march on Harrenhal to face him, or wait. The terms he had sent to the Lannisters should mask his movements, they would think him cowardly and timid, hiding behind walls. They would be proven wrong, he swore. Perhaps, when his northmen were tearing across the west, the Lannisters may suddenly find proposals of peace more to their liking.

As he rested that night, he thought of Tristan. His mother had advised him that sending Tristan was not the wisest choice. In truth, he knew it. But Renly was calling himself King now, and he had to send one of two people, his mother, or his brother. They would look upon his mother and see a woman, widowed and weak in an army of men. They would look upon his brother and see a warrior, and his twin, a delegation worthy of respect. He hopes Tristan would be able to put aside his disdain and find a glibber tongue than usual, and that any previous relationship between him and House Tyrell might help his cause. He knew there was something that Tristan was not telling him, he could feel it when he brought up House Tyrell, but Tristan had denied any problem. Robb would not insult his brother by coddling him, Tristan would face his demons, and cut them down. He closed his eyes thinking of Tristan, his blade, his wolf, and his trust.

He dreamt of running over hills and through valleys, and of small paths flanked by stone and victory.

The next morning he woke quickly. At Riverrun he had the luxury of sleeping in. Not in a war camp, he had taught the Lannisters that they must have secure camps outside Riverrun, and he would not forget his own lesson now.

As Olyvar helped him mount his horse and pack away his equipment and tent, Robb found Grey Wind acting strangely on the edge of the camp, bounding around with the insistence of a hound. "What is it?" He asked the wolf, who fixed him with a glare then looked towards the mountains.

"What"s the wolf saying now?" The Greatjon asked.

Robb looked his wolf in the eye, and saw... something... there. He knew the wolf had seen something, something useful, he felt it. "Let's follow him," Robb said. He put his spurs to his horse and followed Grey Wind, his outriders and scouts riding far ahead to make sure they were not spotted. Before the battles of the Whispering Wood and the camps, his soldiers would have been likely to have concern with him suggesting they follow a wolf. But no longer, and they followed Grey Wind towards the mountains.

When they arrived at the stone face of the rock, Robb looked around. There was much shrubbery around the area, but besides that, nothing. Had Grey Wind led them here for nothing? But he seemed intently focussed on a particular patch of trees and shrubbery growing against the side of the mountains, no more than two meters wide. "Greatjon," Robb said, feeling... something. "Have some men clear that shrubbery. Men in Umber surcoats approached with heavy axes and began hacking. "The rest of you get ready and keep watch."

When they were done, and had cleared a path through the shrubbery and trees, they called him over. "Your Grace it's... it's..."

Robb dismounted and hurried over and his jaw opened slightly. It was a pass. It couldn't fit more than one mounted man widthways, but it was a path. Looking up he saw that the reason they couldn't see the pass was that it folded over, winding into the mountains so the folds of rock disguised the others and the passage. How had Grey Wind found that?

"Ser Brynden!" He called. "Send some men into this pass, see where it leads and that it isn't a trap.

The scouts entered and the hours ticked by, but eventually they returned, riding as hard as they could through the narrow pass. "Your Grace," they reported. "It's a miracle, truly the gods are with us this day. This pass is narrow, it never widens enough for more than one horse and enough room to turn around, but it leads all the way through the mountains.

Robb felt his face break into a small smile. "The gods have shown their favour. Let us take the pass into the West, the Lannisters may never know we're coming."

The pass was imposing. Robb's guards had refused to let him ride at the front, and he was staring intently at the back of Smalljon's armour. Looking up was dizzying, he kept suspecting that some rock would fall and crush his head. But it didn't. Occasionally the path rose into the mountains, sometimes he had to duck in order to avoid hitting his head, other times he had to dismount and lead his horse through afoot. But eventually, they made it, and the Northern host emerged into the Western evening. It was some fortune that they were warring in the summer, if this had been winter, the day would have darkened before they were half way through.

"Ser Brynden," he called as his host was still emerging. The scouts and his Grand Uncle had been the first through the pass. "Set up scouting lines, and ensure we aren't being watched. But alert no one to our arrival, we must take full advantage of this. Tomorrow, we begin searching for the new Lannister host."

They rested for the first time on Lannister land, men brought back carcasses of dead beasts of the forest and they feasted on them. Eating food taken from Tywin Lannister's land tasted a hundred times sweeter, Robb thought, and with the way Grey Wind was tearing into the flesh of a boar, he quite agreed. He looked out over the Westerlands, from here, in the evening light, he could just about make our small villages and towers. Brynden assured him that the towers were either empty or had been cleared. So here he was basking in Lannister land, waiting to unleash sweet vengeance on them for all the harm they had inflicted on his people.

But first, they had to rob the Westerlands of their defenders. Stafford Lannister was not a skilled soldier, apparently his son Daven was far more skilled in the art of war. But even if the father had delegated command to his more capable son, in all likelihood, the Lannister host would be gathering near Casterly Rock and Lannisport, where they would have access to gold, resources and the mass of a city for recruits.

They set off south at a brisk pace when dawn broke the next day, they needed to cross as much distance as possible without being seen. Having crossed the mountains south of the Golden Tooth, Robb expected to be riding west. However, it seemed Stafford had taken up a more central position, near a village called Oxcross, not far from here, but only three day's ride from the Rock and Lannisport, and still easily within sight of the Golden Tooth.

"Ser Stafford seems to believe that he is safe," Brynden informed Robb and his lords when his scouts had reported back. "He has decided that it would be impossible for us to come upon him, and has posted no sentries near his camp."

"And we will make him pay for that failure," Robb declared, and his lords nodded their ascent. The Greatjon looked as eager for battle as ever, and Lord Karstark's eyes sought vengeance for the death of his son. He thought. If the Lannisters had no sentries, then he could win this before it ever became a battle. "We wait for the cover of darkness," Robb said. "Then, Brynden, pick some of your best men to sneak into the Lannister camp. Once inside, they will cut the horse lines. Grey Wind will scatter their horses then, in the chaos, we will descend on them from all sides, destroy this host and send it scattering to the winds. Then the Westerlands will be ours for the taking." His lords gave their approval to the plan.

He split his command. He would take three thousand of the horse, and descend from the east. The Greatjon's force of two thousand would attack from the north and Stevron Frey's rivermen would ride from the south.

He waited patiently, this was not a battle that would be won by speed. When Brynden's scouts returned, he gave Grey Wind the signal and the wolf prowled off in the darkness. He wasn't worried for the beast, not as he would have been had this been his first battle. Grey Wind was his loyal companion, his fearsome bodyguard and stalwart friend. He would be fine, and he would give the signal to charge.

They heard cries utter from the camp and the sounds of confused men rustled up to them. Grey Wind had done his job. The Wolf issued a low, deep howl in the night, and Robb drew his longsword, his own men sounding their warhorns in answer. "The King in the North!" He heard one of his men call, a call taken up by the rest of his men as they fell upon the hapless Lannister host in the night.