A/N: I have been terribly sick, unable to breathe, and my body was bruised up pretty bad due to things I don't want to get into here, all right after my wife and I split up. I am sorry for the delay, the story is already written and even though as my first story it isn't the best I could do, I plan to go ahead and post all the chapters as soon as I can.

I hope that at some point in the future I feel better and more willing to devote more time and effort to writing fanfiction, but at this moment in time I feel rather the opposite of ambition or anything good. I hope you all enjoy the story and can forgive any mistakes.

Chapter Six: A Kingly Response

Robb POV-A week later

They had killed his father. A monumentally stupid thing to do, one which drove many away from he Lannister cause, yet Robb could not bring himself to respond as he should just yet. He knew he should stop wallowing in pity, but he couldn't help it. Everyone in the army understood, and mourned with him, but the lords pressed him to make a move.

Now was the time to press for Casterly Rock. He could take the Golden Tooth now that the Lords and Ladies were unsure of their support. Ned Stark was the reason the Northern army had not fully committed to warfare. Now only two little girls were their only hostages to a man that had defeated Tywin Lannister in the field each time they had faced off.

"My King, you must move. We cannot continue to sit here. They still have your sisters." Lady Talisa said from the bed where her gorgeous nude form was currently laying.

"How am I to do anything while you lay there looking like that?" Robb answered with a grin. She laughed and began to dress. She had stayed in his tent the past week frequently, and they had made love and sated their lust with one another many times and in many different ways in her attempts to help cheer him up. For once, the other lords agreed with this if it would snap him out of depression and help him make a move.

His men were restless, and now was the time to make a choice. For the first time in a few days, his head seemed clear. He would send the Kingslayer North, the Bolton lands would be the most protected and closest since it was snowing in the North and he didn't want to risk losing him on the way to Winterfell. He would march to the Twins and ask for more men to replace those he had lost, and he would march on Casterly Rock. First he would have to apologize for what he was about to do though, as he took Talisa's hand and left the tent in search of Lord Bolton and then a weirwood or a septon.

Jon POV-One month later

Jon read the letter again slowly and shook his head. Robb had married a foreign woman and was heading to the Twins to ask for aid, and had sent Jaime Lannister to be imprisoned in the Bolton lands. He wanted his brother to be happy, but no good would come of this. Old Walder Frey certainly wouldn't help them after being spited in such a way. As far as Ser Jaime went, Jon would see about collecting him as soon as the weather allowed. He sighed and pulled some parchment down and began to write a few letters.

The letters were all similar in nature, a plea for help. He sent one to both Stannis and Renly as they both were against the Lannisters, one to the Martells though he didn't expect a response from them, one to the Tyrells in the Reach, and one to Vale. All offered temporary alliances to deal with the Lannisters until a more permanent arrangement could be struck. As Robb's brother he had the power to negotiate, but unless it only concerned Winterfell he could not make too many decisions without consulting Robb, particularly as he was now the King in the North.

Letters done; Jon moved on to look over his newest pet project. He had men strategically placing ballistae and catapults on the walls. Once placed, they would begin practicing with them. The stone used for the catapults came from unused building materials formed into catapult balls, covered in pitch on occasion to practice with fire shots. The ballista ammunition had been carefully crafted by the smiths so that each one had fifty shots available, along with their own supply of pitch and tar. The murder holes now had a good supply of torches and pitch at all times, and the ability to get more as needed as Jon spent vast amounts of the remaining money to buy reserves of oil barrels, more food, drink, wood, and ore.

They had enough valyrian steel armor and weapons to outfit 75% of the army and was still producing more. Soon, Jon would have them make Valyrian bars to sell once the war was over in order to see a large return in their coffers. If done carefully, this could see them richer than the Lannisters over time. Jon's powers had greatly increased as the gods themselves earned a large power boost due to the entirety of the North now fully committed to praying to them. Some small blessings had been granted along the way to avid worshippers to increase the idea.

This was all Jon did now. He built up the castle, attended breakfast and dinner with his family, wrote and read letters, and occasionally passed judgement when his wisdom was needed. The weather made it impossible to pursue other goals, and he really had no stomach for the debauchery he used to so enjoy. He still had Ros in his bed at least once a week, but that was mere release now. He no longer tried new things with her, nor enjoyed the more perverse uses she taught him with her mouth and ass. It was a simple quick release, and then moving on. He trained once a week with one of the gods on using his powers, and on combat, but they had many new duties to oversee as well. They had begun to look and feel younger and more powerful, almost back at their prime, but this also meant they had more duties and prayers to see to and answer. They had warned him something was coming but had been unable to tell him what.

It was in this continuous stream of monotony that a letter came a month later. A letter that changed everything. It was from Lord Bolton.

Lord Jon Stark,

I regret to inform you that your brother, Robb Stark, is dead. His army has scattered, what remains of it, and is fleeing North from what I understand. I am sorry to say this came to pass due to Lord Walder Frey. He had betrayed Robb, murdering him at dinner, along with his new wife and many Northern Lords. Lord Umber has escaped, along with Lord Howland Reed, but the others have perished.

In further news, I have been named Warden of the North by the crown. If you submit to me, kneel and swear me as your lord, I will allow you to keep Winterfell as its lord, less the gold and treasures I will be removing as a tax on your power until you prove yourself to be loyal. I will also be taking your sister, Sansa, as my wife. The king has released her from her oath to marry him, having been proven a traitor's daughter. I will take her as my wife and will keep her as a guest of your good will. She will please me for a while in many ways before I require that she bear me an heir, and then perhaps I will allow her a short visit with family.

Think carefully on your response, Lord Stark. Time is running out and my patience is not infinite. Tywin Lannister is backing me, as is all of the South.

Lord Roose Bolton

Lord of the Dreadfort

Warden of the North

Jon crumpled the paper in anger and shock. He took the box that came with it, opening it to find Robb's head. His face had been contorted in pain. Jon shook in anger and blacked out.

The next day

Jon awoke to his head pounding and tried to piece together what had happened. He had given the news to Catelyn and Bran and Rickon, all together, and they had all cried as a family. He had sworn vengeance on the Lannisters and Boltons and had immediately gotten drunk with his commander and some of his men. They must have taken him to his room. Ros lay asleep next to him, nude and with a few bruises on her thighs and ass, no doubt from him in his drunken state. He sighed, and made sure to set out one gold piece, more than the usual payment.

He could not allow himself to fall into depression. The gods had offered their sympathies as well, and he had accepted them with grace. He must look and act like a leader now, even if he was dying inside. He couldn't afford to look weak. It was with this mindset that he woke Ros, had her leave, and went for his breakfast. He sat in the hall alone at the head table awaiting his family. H had the servants bring him eggs, crispy bacon burnt black, sausages, and two little fish with some hot bread and a cup of milk and ale. Jon at quietly, but with gusto. He would need the energy.

After his family arrived and many more had filled the hall, he waited until his family had finished eating before he stood. The noise in the hall abruptly ended and many eyes turned to him.

"All of you know what happened to Robb. I can't bring him back, and I can't replace him. What I can do is ensure we take our revenge on those who wronged us. Bolton, Lannister, Frey. All three of these houses have turned against us. Yes, my brother made some mistakes, but he is only human. Mistakes are in our nature, Lord or Small-Folk. We don't deserve to die for them, and no excuse would justify slaughtering guests in your hall, as Walder Frey has done, or betraying your lord as Bolton did. I was named Lord of Winterfell, acting Warden of the North before Robb left. With him gone, I officially accept that title, and deny it to the traitor."

At this, many began to clap and cheer for him. The men who had fought beside him knew him for a great commander, and a good man. In that moment, a sign from the gods appeared in the form of a messenger. He entered the hall and hurried to Jon, kneeling after a brief hesitation.

"Your grace, Moat Cailin reports large groups of Northern troops gathering at the Moat, fleeing from the South. They request your instructions."

"I'm not-" Jon stopped as Lady Catelyn lay a hand on his arm.

"Yes, you are Jon. For the sake of these people, you are. For the sake of the family, you must be. We need a Northern King to defend us, now more than ever. It must be you." Catelyn said in a firm tone, looking him in the eye. Jon hesitated, then nodded. Taking the nod as a sign, all in the hall rose and dropped to their knees.

"King in the North!" The commander cried out. The call was taken up and repeated by all in the hall until Jon bade them rise and take their seats once more. He turned to the messenger.

"Have them all gathered here, less another thousand kept at the Moat for defense from the South. Do not let Lord Bolton enter the North. I denounce him as a traitor, renouncing his claims as a Lord of the North. His castle and lands will be stripped and given to a more worthy lord or lady. All men who wish to be pardoned for desertion are to be sent here to reform the army. We march first to the Dreadfort, then to the Moat. Let all here ready themselves to march once more. Send all other living Lords to me, as well as the heirs to those who died."

The messenger nodded and bowed before hurrying off. Jon sat back down and began to eat just a little more. They would have their revenge, no matter what the cost.

"Jon, we will talk about this later, but this does mean you'll have to marry as King…" Catelyn spoke to him. Jon spat out his ale in shock. Bugger, he hadn't thought of any of that.

One month later

"Jon, you must choose. Lady Margaery Tyrell, or perhaps Lady Shireen Baratheon, Lady Arianne Martell, even Arya or Sansa for that matter since you aren't actually related." Catelyn Stark said in irritation. Jon had avoided this subject consistently as he wrote out proposals for alliances, took oaths of fealty from all Northern Houses, saw to Lord Umber and Lord Reed as they arrived, and readied the men.

"We have a war on several fronts. People don't care for that right now!" Jon rebuked her. Catelyn shook her head.

"They do, Jon, especially when you spend your time in the company of a whore. Robb married a foreigner, and you not married makes people nervous. Marry one, bed her, put a child in her, and you can even go back to whores if you like, but you must choose."

"I want a wife, but there is so much going on and how do you even fall in love with someone?"

"Love isn't necessary. It is your duty. Love will come once you get to know one another."

"Fine." Jon said with a sigh as he put his quill down. "Not Sansa or Arya. We may not be related but we grew up together as siblings. It would feel wrong. Shireen is hardly ten, and probably hasn't even bled yet. Margaery would be okay. I hear she is sixteen now…and experienced from what I'm told."

That particular conversation with his mother, Aphrodite, still played in his head. Apparently Margaery was one she had taken interest in and blessed with beauty and…skills. Catelyn nodded. "Then you must put the letter out as soon as possible."

"Very well, as you wish." Jon said heavily. Truth be told, he had already written more letters asking for alliances, and had not yet sent them. It would be an easy thing to add on to the one for Highgarden. Catelyn nodded and smiled at him before leaving.

"Sure, she smiles when she gets her way, Typical." Jon muttered irritably. He finished up the letters and took them to the Maester to send off. He would be leaving in three days for the Dreadfort now that the men had all gathered, 10,000 out of the original 20 that had marched. It had snowed off and on, nothing too deep, but enough to make progress difficult.

It had not affected his current project though. He had the Maester teaching medicine, warfare, geography, herblore, farming, the theories behind magic, religions, construction, sailing, fishing, cooking, smithing, crafting, mathematics, languages, and much more to several women, children, and men not serving in some capacity. They, in turn, would become teachers at the new schools he was building. He would have a school that was compulsory for all Northern children to attend, well-guarded of course, in Winterfell. He would have a college that adults could pay to attend as well, in order to have a more learned society. An intelligent society was one that advanced its people. He also planned to build an academy for their military to learn and develop new tactics, strategies, and how to use varied weapons so as to advance their army and always remain at max capacity for troops.

It was a sound idea but would take up to five years to complete. For now, he focused on getting everything ready to once more leaf the army from Winterfell. Their journey would likely take two months in fair weather without an army. With the army, and the snow, it would likely take them four months. Fortunately, they were well-provisioned, and the fur installed on all the armor would keep them warm enough. Jon would never risk moving in the dead of winter, but currently there was little choice. They had to take the Dreadfort before the South came to the North to take it and had to be at the Moat before that happened as well. Once they took the Dreadfort, they would stop by Winterfell to resupply, and would take the three-to-four-month journey to the Moat.

Four months later

"The snows are heavy now." Jon thought. The snow was falling nearly six foot deep in some places.

"It isn't going to get any better, only worse." Zeus replied in his mind. He now had daily conversations with different gods after discovering how to mind-speak from Hades. The gods being back at near full power had helped tremendously when they saw fit to assist him with small blessings and as his own powers developed. It was a secret no longer after his show at the Moat. Now he did not hesitate to light fires, clear snow drifts, and more with his powers as the energy became available to him. Today had been one such example where he used a blast of fire to burn down the Dreadfort gates to avoid a long siege. That one would not be repeated too often, as he had nearly passed out again.

"Is there something I should know?"

"Something is coming. An old enemy. They will come from the North. You must deal with the South quickly."

"Who is it?" Jon asked. He received no reply and sighed. Sometimes the gods' mysterious ways annoyed him.

"Your grace?" A voice behind him said. Lord Umber. He turned and saw Lord Umber, Lord Reed, and his commander standing there. "The men await your commands."

"Begin preparations to build this castle up to the usual standard. Leave five hundred men behind to defend it and prepare the men to move. Get a hot supper in them and good rest. Let the men who are staying take watch tonight. Prepare yourselves. It is a long march in the cold to Winterfell, and even further to the Moat." Jon replied. The men nodded and left as Jon looked outward once more.

He had found Ser Jaime in a guest room in the castle, no doubt about to be sent South to his father. They had chained him once more and put him in a cell. Jon had sent a raven to Lord Tywin, claiming he would like to exchange prisoners and offering to meet at Moat Cailin's bridge. The Kingslayer for his sisters. Tywin had replied in the affirmative, as it would free him to deal with the Baratheons in the South. No doubt he would come after them when he finished, as Jon's lords and commanders were fond of telling him when they disputed his decision. In the end, he put his foot down. They had named him King in the North, and he reminded them that this only meant something if they followed his commands.

"Besides," Jon added as he turned to leave. "This only matters if all goes as planned."

South they would march now, back to the newly improved Moat. He couldn't wait to see Tywin's face when he saw it.

Six months later

They had resupplied at Winterfell and marched to the Moat, Kingslayer in tow. The snows had lessened as they got further south, speeding their progress by about two months. Jon was thankful for this, as he was very sore from the saddle. It was still snowing here, but nowhere near what was going on near the Dreadfort and Winterfell. He had the army unpack and gave his orders to the lords and commanders. He had recently made his commander a lord as well, giving him Sea Dragon Point as his lands and promising him coin and supplies in order to build a great port city and castle as his capital.

The Lannisters had not yet arrived, so he put the Kingslayer up in one of the guest rooms with two guards.

"See to it that he is shaved and bathed. Give him a hot supper too. Wouldn't want the Lannisters to think we mistreated him. He is to be guarded night and day and change the guards each shift as well. I want no mishaps this close to the trade-off. No one is to see him but myself." Jon told them. He passed the word to his lords as well. He may trust them with his life, but never with Jaime's.

A plan was discussed and agreed to among the lords and commanders, suggested by Jon. At first they were against it, as it went against tradition, but they agreed it was necessary, and it wasn't as if honor or tradition held Tywin back. They even spent an entire hour discussing possible treacheries Tywin may have planned as well. Jon figured they were as ready as they would ever be and sent everyone off inn search of food and rest. Now all they could do was wait.