Tristan ran the fingers of his good hand through his hair as he, Dom and Elmar approached Robb's tent. "It'll be okay Tris," Dom assured him, squeezing his shoulder firmly.
"I know," Tristan replied quietly, licking his dry lips.
They were stopped outside the tent, where two guards, a young Frey who nodded at Elmar formally, and a young man from House Piper. Tristan didn't remember their names, although he recognised them as being of Robb's personal guard.
"Prince Tristan," the Frey said, bowing his head. "His Grace is waiting for you." He glanced at Domeric. "You and the wolf only."
He sucked in a breath and nodded, glancing at Dom. "We'll be right here," his best friend assured him.
With that at his back, Tristan entered his twin's tent, Shield at his side.
It was a simple thing. No grand pavilion. One bedroll was set for Robb, another for his squire, and their arms were placed gently to one side while the dew covered grass glistened in the candlelight. Robb was sat on his bed. His crown sat beside him, Grey Wind curled at his feet, golden eyes piercing as they stared at the entrance. Robb's elbows rested in his knees, his fingers laced together, squeezing tightly.
They stared at each other for the longest moment.
"I hear you got waylaid on the road," Robb said finally.
"A small matter, easily dealt with," Tristan replied stiffly.
Robb's face broke first, cracking in all the wrong ways. "What did we just say? Is that really how we're going to have our first conversation since…"
Tristan shrugged, feeling his own lips twitch before returning to rest. "I don't know, your grace."
Robb sighed. "What became of us, Tristan?"
"Me. I changed. I changed in all the wrong ways." He swallowed. "I let you down."
"You did," Robb confirmed without malice. "And I let you down as well. Exile was…"
"What I needed. What we both needed," Tristan assured him, not wanting Robb to feel as though he had wronged Tristan. "I needed to go to the isle, Robb. You may only have needed me out of the way, I don't know - don't answer," he held up a hand, "but it was what my soul needed. I'm a different man now."
"And yet still as formidable a fighter I hear," Robb finally smiled. "The Mountain?" Tristan nodded. "You avenged a lot of my people with that act. What did you do with the body?"
"Left it for the crows. The skull is hanging from my horse."
Robb nodded. "It will make a good prize to show my men."
"It will, but after that, I need it back."
"Need?" He nodded. "Well you did win it, I'll show the men tonight, and then it's yours."
"Thank you."
Silence.
"Right, that's it," Robb declared, getting to his feet. "Come with me, I think some air will do us good."
They walked, followed by their guards and friends who kept a respectful distance. The evening breeze swept around the edges of the camp, cooling them, even as the fires of the watch posts warmed them. "You'll have to show me that," Robb said, as Tristan finished explaining Cregan's training to him.
"I'd be happy to, though perhaps, better in private," Tristan replied, earning a chuckle from Robb.
"Yes, that would be best."
"Was there a reason you wanted me back here?" He asked after a moment of silence.
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Do I need a reason?"
"No, but your summons sounded urgent."
"Well I wanted to see you again, that was urgent," Robb said.
Tristan smiled.
"But I also want you at my side," Robb said, more serious. "We're about to enter into negotiations with the Lannisters. Negotiations that could end the war for us. And I want you with me as we look Tywin Lannister in the eye and win the North our freedom."
With you, where you can keep an eye on me. Tristan thought without anger. He didn't blame Robb for that. He would keep an eye on him too. "I see," he said.
"You object?" Robb asked, sensing his discomfort.
"Who would command the army while you're gone?"
"Ser Brynden," Robb replied at once. "Uncle Edmure will represent House Tully at the negotiations, the Blackfish will command our defences on the border with the Crownlands. Master Helmann will take command of the Golden Tooth and Lord Karstark will command our toehold in the Reach."
"We have the Golden Tooth?"
Robb nodded. "The Golden Tooth and six castles in the Crownlands. They are our guarantee for the talks."
"And the Lannisters just gave them to you, doesn't the Golden Tooth belong to his extended family, his son's wife?"
"It does," Robb confirmed. "And they did agree to the terms, in exchange for six castles across the north of the Reach which will re-establish their supply lines." We get the better deal out of this, they have returned father's sword, and they've given us the keys to the west and the Crownlands."
"That's a lot of power they've given you, and Ice as well?"
"It is, and if they are turned over to us in full faith, as they did with Ice, then I will know they are committed to the peace talks, which is why I want you there." Robb stopped and turned to him. "I want you at my side as we win the war they started when they killed our father." He held out his hand. "Be at my side at last, Tristan, as we should be."
He stared at the hand. He wanted to reach out and take it. But… "If there is a truce during the talks, then, if you'll permit it, I wish to request a command of my own."
Robb frowned. "For what, there won't be any fighting."
"I don't want to command against the Lannisters," Tristan said. "There are other tasks, and a truce might be the best chance to complete them."
"Tasks?"
Tristan nodded. "When I went to Maidenpool, I was taking the last few scraps that garrisons could spare. Wandering hedge knights and freeriders, a dozen from one castle or another. There and back I passed through villages that were burned or threatened. Just the other day I had to drive robbers away from a family on the road and recover their belongings. The Riverlands are in chaos, Robb."
Robb nodded, his face set grimly. "I know," he said, "it'll be my first task when the war is done."
"I can do it now," Tristan said firmly. "Give me a force and I will go back to the Riverlands and start making them safe again. If these talks fail, it may be years before we have another chance to do it."
Tristan couldn't work out Robb's expression, he was looking at him intently, his brow creased. Finally he said "let me consider it."
"If only you had been there," Daryn said, reaching over and refilling Tristan's cup with more ale. "Stubborn bastards, never seen them fight so hard as they did with that wagon train to their backs."
"And they kept this up all through the night?"
Cley nodded, rolling up his sleeve to show a deep scar going from the back of his hand nearly up to the elbow. "Got this that day." He seemed nearly proud of it.
"That looks painful."
He shrugged. "The other guy came off worse. Big man, big axe. Almost like an ironborn."
"Ironborn?" This battle was becoming more and more complicated by the moment.
"It was dark," Daryn added. "Half of them looked like the sea devils."
"It sounds bad. I wish I'd been there with you."
Daryn nodded. "We could've used you there, and at the villages. I swear, if we'd had you on our side, we would've carved our way through that village and won the battle at Bitterbridge."
"I thought we did win the battle at Bitterbridge?" Tristan asked, confused. He'd seen the wagons coming north, heard how the enemy had fled across the bridge, was that not a victory?
"That's what the Greatjon boasts, and what the king would like everyone to think," Daryn said, "not that he's lying as such, but his Grace, Lord Stannis, whoever was leading the Lannister host, I think everyone claims to have won that battle. And they claim it very loudly, because they all doubt, in truth, whether they actually did. Who won? Who can say. Best not to ask too loudly, I fear."
Tristan frowned. "How much fight do the Lannisters still have in them?"
"Not much if they're coming to terms," Elmar pointed out.
Daryn pointed at Elmar. "Your squire is good."
"So was whoever commanded the Lannisters. Do we know who it was?"
Daryn settled back on the grass. "Lord Tywin's second son, apparently. They say he's been given command of all of Joffrey's armies."
"Who says?"
"The ambassadors we've sent to negotiate the truce, they brought us as much information as they could. One of them heard rumours that he forced the council to give him power and that he really rules now. But then another said that he didn't want to fight at all and they had to beg him to do it."
That was alarming. "Do we know if it's true?"
Daryn shrugged. "Perhaps so, perhaps not. But he's not the King or the Hand, and when we get their seals to the peace agreement, it won't matter whether the man holds power in the shadows or not."
"But we may have to fight him again?" Tristan asked. "If he was able to fight off Robb and Stannis at once, he must be good."
Had Tristan been right to request his separate command? Perhaps he should stay, if there was someone out there who could match Robb... No, even if there was, Robb could handle himself, there were thousands who could not.
"It won't be enough," Daryn said. "The King will win, I believe in him. But enough of us, what happened to you while you were gone?"
Tristan took a breath and told them.
When he was done, Daryn sat back, looking surprisingly pensive. It was an expression Tristan rarely saw on Daryn's face, Daryn was the one who took Tristan's side, before Dom advised them that what they were about to do was reckless and unnecessary. "If I hadn't known you for the past decade, and if I didn't know that you would never look me in the eye and tell me a falsehood, I'd call horse shit," he said finally. "You put your spirit into Shield."
"I can prove it if you like."
"I already said I believe you," Daryn pointed out. "It's not proof I need, but an explanation would be nice."
"It would," Tristan said. "And I would provide it if I knew any more than I have already told you. I just suffice myself knowing that it works, not how."
Daryn flopped back on the ground. "Wonderful, fucking wonderful," he muttered.
Cley looked at Daryn, confused. "What is it Daryn?"
"It's him," Daryn said, rolling himself back up to a sitting position and pointing at Tristan. "I mean, he got all the ladies when all he could do was show off some fancy sword skills. Now he can enter the minds of animals and trees. There's nothing you or I can do that even comes close to that Cley."
"First, thank you. I'm sure there was more to me than just my sword skills."
"No. Just them," Daryn cut across.
"But," Tristan said firmly. "I did lose one of my hands," he pointed out.
"They aren't related, you lost your hand, and now you can, what was it called, warg?"
"Hey, I nearly lost my hand," Cley piped up, grinning, "maybe I'll be able to do it?"
Tristan laughed, but Daryn sighed. "Cley, my lad, I love you a great deal, but you were never at risk of losing your hand."
"Oh let him have his moment, Daryn," Tristan chided.
Daryn glared at him. "I have. I've let him have a hundred moments, but it's getting tiresome now."
"Well if we're lucky, the peace talks will succeed and you won't need to hear it again," Cley said.
"What about you're next one?" Tristan asked.
Cley shook his head. "I've got my battle scar now, don't much like it."
Tristan held up his claw. "We've all got our scars, Cley."
"Not Dom," Daryn pointed out.
"Yeah but Dom's Dom, if he had a scar it would ruin his whole look."
"It would show everyone that the Boltons are mortal," Daryn laughed. "When will he be done anyway?"
"Now," Dom said, approaching them out of the shadows, a small smirk on his face. "And I could have a dozen scars and still be better looking than you, Daryn."
"You wound me, Dom," Daryn put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Eleven maybe."
They all laughed, sharing the moment before Dom, as was his fashion, brought them back to reality. "The king wants to see us," he said softly.
Tristan sat up. "Did he say why?"
Dom shook his head. "He just told me to fetch the three of you and bring you back to his tent at once."
"All of us?" Daryn asked.
"Every one, Lord Hornwood."
They got up and followed Domeric to Robb's tent.
Robb turned to them when they entered, nodding to them as they lined up before him. "Good, you've come. I have a task for you." Tristan sucked in a breath. "Tristan and Domeric have informed me that the Riverlands are in quite a state in the absence of the army, robber knights and broken men, preying on the farmers and crofters that feed our people. It's time something was done about it. You four have always worked well together as boys, now you will do so as men and lords.
"Lords Hornwood and Cerwyn, each of you will take two hundred and fifty soldiers picked from your houses. Domeric, you will take the same number from House Bolton. Tristan," Robb fixed him with a royal stare. "I will give you two hundred and fifty Winterfell men. You will all return to the Riverlands and start setting it to order. Tristan. You will be my captain. You will have the authority to act in the Riverlands as you need to to restore order. You will hunt down the brigands, you will make the roads safe again, you will allow the land room to heal from this war. Your commands will not be challenged except where they contradict my own. Do you accept this charge?"
Tristan nodded. "I do. I will restore peace and security to the lands of the Trident."
Without hesitation, each of his friends swore the same.
"Then you have your charge," he said, handing over an official document presenting Tristan's new rank and title. "Go and make my kingdom safe again."
