The war in the west was over, and the northern army was returning home. They had scored a number of victories over the Lannister bannermen, taking several castles and their wealth in silver and steel, fresh spears, swords and pikes for his soldiers and prisoners for ransom. Thousands of cattle had been driven back into the Riverlands, enough to feed his army for months, longer if stored and salted properly.
They had dealt damage and death to the Westerlands. Aside from the cattle and castles, they had ravaged the Lannister fields. He only had six thousand men, but he had tried to hit as many lands of as many western lords as possible to draw Tywin back. But it had failed. Tywin had not come, he had been wounded at the Crag and then news had come from Riverrun.
"What do you mean he's stopped Tywin's march!?" Robb demanded furiously.
"Your Grace you must rest, your wound is not yet healed," Perwyn Frey reminded him, but in this moment he couldn't care less.
The Blackfish's lined face was harder than Robb had ever seen it. Had they not given Edmure clear instructions? He was to hold Riverrun. At no point had Robb ever said that he was to give battle to Tywin Lannister.
"It's true, Your Grace," the Blackfish said. "My nephew has repelled an assault by Tywin Lannister across the Trident, driving him south-east and away from here."
Every victory scored, every pound of silver and gold seized now seemed like dead weight. Defeating Lord Tywin could have won them everything. King's Landing would have fallen to Lord Renly or Lord Stannis, whichever of the two was victorious. Or if they destroyed each other then Robb could march on the city itself. Now he had trophies but more battles and uncertainty ahead if he was to win the war. And he couldn't even vent himself on the lands of Lord Tywin further. When he had entered the Westerlands he had a fair idea of what was going on in the south. Now he must return, to see matters were tended to. The gain of remaining here was outweighed by the risk.
"Uncle, give the order to the host. We ride for the Trident in three day's time."
Now the fields that he saw were not his enemy's to take, but his to protect.
He kicked his horse into action, grunting as pain shot through his leg. It hadn't properly healed since the attack on the Crag, but he couldn't wait. He had to come back to the Riverlands to prepare it's defences. And there was also a more delicate issue. So far he was undefeated on the battlefield. He knew what effect that had on the enemy. They would come at him with the full knowledge that their opponent was capable of achieving victory. But if the injury were to permanently scar him... Lady Jeyne and the Maester had said it was possible that the leg would have to come off if it became infected. He hadn't had to say a word. Grey Wind growled, but not as much as his personal guard. They wouldn't let either of them near him with anything that could threaten his life. If he were to lose a leg in the Westerlands, Lord Tywin would hear of it eventually. But if he had to lose it, it would be better for his kingdom to lose it in the Riverlands. When there they could control who learned about it, for a time at least, maintaining the illusion of the undefeated northern king. And if he were to die...
They'd heard of Tristan getting wounded at Winterfell, but knew nothing more than that. But Robb knew he would feel in his heart if his twin were to perish. Grey Wind would feel Shield's pain. Tristan yet lived, and was his heir. If he were to perish, they would need to be able to summon him... give him the crown.
He worried for that day. Tristan was many things. Loyal, strong, fearless, a fighter beyond compare... but he was no king. He lacked the patience for kingship, the will to forge a peace when necessary and the desire to protect his vassals and people beyond his own will for revenge.
The solution was simple, he just had to survive.
They made it to Pinkmaiden by the end of the next day. The strong keep of House Piper sat on the southern bank of the Trident, and a small bridge crossed the trident to it. Lord Piper had been part of the host summoned by Edmure to defend the Trident and had not yet returned, as such, Robb was met by his bailiff, a greying man with the look of a soldier about him, he was missing several fingers on his right hand. "Your Grace," he said with a bow. "I apologise for the absence of my lord, but he is at Riverrun, having assisted in the victory at the Fords.
Robb held back his retort as he swung off his horse, grunting as he put pressure on his injured leg. "No apology needed," he assured the bailiff, "but I fear I need to rest my leg, it has been a long day."
The man nodded. "Of course, Your Grace, you shall have Lord Piper's seat at the high table, and I have had his chambers prepared for you this night, should you like to stay."
"Thank you, ser. I have been on the move for some time, could you please update me on all you know about what has happened."
"It would be my pleasure.
They took him to Pinkmaiden's main hall and he sat on the lord's seat. "Your Grace... are you-"
"I'm fine," he replied stiffly. The bailiff would have had to have lost as many eyes as fingers to not notice the limp he was bearing, but Robb would not have it overplayed. He groaned as he eased himself into the wooden chair, taking the weight of his wounded thigh was a pleasure that he had come to appreciate beyond all others. But he was still a king, and there were still duties that he had to perform. 'so," he said to the bailiff as he eased his leg out. 'tell me what has happened while I've been gone?"
The bailiff nodded. "Lord Edmure assembled a host and repelled Lord Tywin from the Trident, forcing a retreat south and east. At the same time lord Bolton has taken Harrenhal and holds it strong, defeating the remaining Lannister garrisons in the east of your realm." That was good, if he held Harrenhal strongly then his options were far more open than before, he could ride out again once he recovered, battle the enemy on their land. If the situation in the south permitted it, he could take a larger host to the west, perhaps seize Lannisport or Casterly Rock. The Direwolf hanging from the Rock would utterly shatter Lannister power and prestige, he could defeat them without ever marching on King's Landing, and the gold reserves there would fuel the rest of the war and his kingdom for years. "And the south?"
"Lord Stannis marched on King's Landing, nearly took the city, but was repelled at the last moment. He was defeated by reinforcements from Lord Tywin and the Tyrells. Some say he is dead and his army destroyed, others say he fled upon hearing of their coming, some say that he was abandoned by his own son and others that Lord Stannis himself ordered his son to flee. The only thing that can be agreed upon is that Lord Stannis failed to take King's Landing, and now the Tyrells and Lannisters are solidified around the throne, with Margaery Tyrell set to marry Joffrey Baratheon and become his queen."
So now he had to face the two richest families in Westeros working together. The Tyrell armies were not only large but if they had only fought a single battle, and had only come as reinforcements at the end it was likely that they were relatively unblooded. The fresh armies of the Tyrells threatened to undo all his victories. "And the North?"
"We have heard nothing new that can be confirmed," the bailiff replied sorrowfully. "We know that Winterfell has been retaken. We've heard rumours that your brother has succumbed to his wounds, but other saying that he is even now marching on Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte at the head of an army of wolves to reclaim them from the reavers." His brother lived, Robb knew it. "It's possible more is known at Riverrun."
He nodded. That was his next destination. In fact, if there was an alliance between the Tyrells and the Lannisters then he had to get back there as soon as possible, and prevent Edmure from dispersing the Riverlords again. But his men needed rest. "Send word to Riverrun," he said. "Tell them to prepare for our arrival. We rest here for one night, we leave tomorrow."
"Do you not wish to rest your leg a little longer, your grace?" The Blackfish asked.
The Greatjon laughed. "Our king is of the north, he won't let a prissy little scratch like that stop him!"
Robb smiled. "I must needs get to Riverrun in order to ready ourselves. But first I would meet with my loyal guards in private, and you, Ser Brynden, Lord Umber, Lord Karstark."
The bailiff nodded. "Guards, out, let us leave the king and his men." The Piper men at arms marched from the room, leaving Robb with the men and woman he had trusted with his life so far.
As soon as the door was shut he let out a groan of agony, the pain in his leg near constant now. Grey Wind seemed concerned by his side, and Olyvar stood close. "Your Grace should-"
"Enough," he said. "There are matters of import for which I need you all to listen." They all listened attentively. "As I'm sure you have now noticed," he said with a small smile, "my leg is... hindering me rather. I need to be prepared, and so do you."
"Your Gr-" Lord Umber began, but Robb held up his hand to stop him.
"If the worst should come to pass, and I should die, I want your oaths, all of you, that you will serve Tristan as well as you have me. That you will advise him and protect him as your king. You will do the same if I am incapacitated, for Tristan shall serve as regent for me while I am incapacitated."
"We shall of course swear such an oath, Your Grace," Dacey Mormont replied, earnestly. "But what about..."
"Yes?" Robb asked.
"What if what the bailiff said is true, and Lord Tristan is fallen?"
Robb wanted to take her neck and wring it for even suggesting it, but that was the twin in him talking, not the king. He knew Tristan to be alive, but knew that if he weren't provisions had to be made now, or the North and Trident would fall. "Then you will protect Bran," he said simply. "He is in line behind myself and Tristan, and while in his youth, a regency council shall be determined to govern in his name."
"Who shall sit on this council, Your Grace?"
It would have to be a mix. He needed the North and Trident together, they were all his subjects. "My mother," he said at once. "Ser Brynden; Ser Edmure and Lord Jason Mallister from the Trident lords, and Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and..." he considered who would fill the third northern seat. His other would favour her children and help raise them, she was the blood of the Trident but loved in the North. Lord Umber and Karstark had greatly assisted him in the war. Lord Bolton had been as well, but did he trust that man with Bran. Tristan had been greatly changed, and he was a warrior, Bran was too young. "Lord Manderly," he decided. Lord Manderly held White Harbour, with all it's wealth and power. "Someone write this down, I would have you affix your seals to it when I am done."
They fetched paper and ink, and Olyvar, the ever loyal squire, started writing out his orders in the event of his death or incapacity to rule. "Bran will rule for his lifetime, but he has been crippled, and will never father children alone. As such the line will continue through Rickon." Now there was a problem. One day, Rickon would have to marry and father children. In order to bind the North and Riverlands together, it would be best that he marry a girl from the Riverlands. But there were many northern lords who would think their daughters better suited. "If I should die, then Rickon will honour my agreement with Lord Frey, and marry one of his daughters. He will wed the closest in age to himself, with the priority going to the younger of them. That daughter shall go to Winterfell to be raised alongside Rickon along with Olyvar acting as her guardian while there."
Olyvar paused his writing and looked up at him. Robb didn't speak, he just nodded.
"Olyvar, take that to the maester to be copied out, officially, then bring it to me, I'll read it over and then, my lords and protectors, I will ask you to affix your seals to it for the future of the North and Trident."
The pain in his leg made sleep near impossible to find that night, but he was able to get a few hours in before they had to set off for Riverrun. Olyvar went above and beyond, helping him swing his injured leg over his horse quickly and without anyone seeing it. He proceeded to ride very close, ready to stabilise him if necessary.
They rode as hard as Robb's leg could bear. Overall, this part of the Riverlands had suffered less than the rest being on the western bank of the Trident they'd never been under Lannister occupation.
Thankfully Riverrun came into view as the sun was beginning to set. They hadn't even stopped to eat. His guard knew the reason, they had all seen how bad his leg was becoming, and they pushed on, some of the army behind might object, but they were still running on a victorious high, nothing could stop them now.
But it was getting harder and harder on the King in the North. He nearly fell several times and his vision was becoming bleary. "Olyvar," he whispered as they approached the castle of his mother's family. He clutched the reins to him tightly.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"Find the Blackfish and Lord Umber, tell them to settle the army outside the castle, I don't want them all to see... me."
Olyvar didn't question him. "At once Your Grace."
He shook himself. He had to stay up until he was inside Riverrun. Every canter of his horse between his thighs sent another bolt through his wound, sweat was dripping down his face and something warm was spreading across his injured thigh.
He vaguely heard someone call for the gate to open, that would be nice wouldn't it, a nice open gate, he'd never taken a castle with an open gate before, why couldn't more of them do that?
He heard hooves rattle off earth, then wood, then earth once more. Not one arrow? Not a single crossbow bolt? Oh how he hated crossbow bolts. Maybe they'd even let him rest a while. His men surely didn't need him to take this castle, it had probably surrendered. He could just rest against his horse a while.
The King in the North slid from his horse onto the earthen courtyard of Riverrun without a care in the world.
