I

A raven arrived that morning. From the capital.

Robb received it, wary at the sight of the seal. Lion and a stag. The puerile writing only confirmed what he already thought.

Your traitor days are numbered, Stark. Surrender, and I promise your rebel lords will have quick deaths. Deny me, and you will regret it.

That fucking kid wished.

Your sisters now know what awaits traitors. Do you want to know yourself? Do not worry, you will get it just the same you northern scum.

What.

Their wolf pelts now adorn my walls, Stark. And their heads-

"What does this mean?!"

He shouted, the roll of paper thrown across the tent. His lords read it, next, and tried to placate his anger.

Joffrey could only be trying to tease him, play with his fears. He was a boy, after all. Scarcely a man under that crown. He'd find fun in tricking others, even his sworn enemies.

They were discussing it, still, when someone else entered the tent, in quite a rush.

"My lords…! My king… Riders… from King's Landing..."

The look on the soldier's face told them everything his words could not.


It took plenty of convincing before the men ventured to tell them, everything.

Sansa and Arya were dead.

And not only that.

Coerced by his lords, the two men proceeded with their gruesome tale. Robb's shock turned quick into fury.

Joffrey had made his sisters be whipped. He made his men strip them. He took away their honour.

And then, he gave them the most appalling of deaths.

Gods.

His little sisters, who were guilty of nothing. Who were a threat to nobody.

They were only little girls.

That bastard monster was going to pay.


Rage boiled inside of him in a way he hadn't ever felt before.

His sisters were dead.

It changed everything. It meant absolute war.

Robb Stark would have no mercy, not after this.

Nothing was going to stop him from taking vengeance. Nothing.

He would kill with his own hands any Lannister he encountered in his path. And what Joffrey would get himself…

Robb shouted in grief and wrath and frustration, for a long moment. Meanwhile, his council seemed to be unaware of what they should do.

Finally, he fell into silence.

Through the distance his mind had pushed him to, he heard it. Someone was asking him if he was well. If they could do anything to help.

"I'll be fine when I have that bastard Joffrey choking in his own blood, in front of me. Not before."

For the moment…

His mother shouldn't know.

He ordered to call in some of the men, find Catelyn, send them all away for the day. His mother would be better anywhere else.

There was an old abandoned sept a few hours riding away, he recalled. She would be there. Praying to her gods to give strength to her son.

Robb was going to be truly busy, today.

There always would be time to console his poor mother, any other moment.

For now, anyone named Lannister would face it. Their reckoning day.


"The Lannister boys, get them here already."

The common soldiers around looked at him, some with amusement, some with the hint of fear. He could tell they all knew, at that point. He didn't mind it.

Like that, they'd understand why he was doing what he was fucking doing.

"Fetch me my sword. And someone find a good stump. Now."

"Your Grace… One of the boys… He's a Frey. Kin of your intended…"

One of his captains blabbered around him, about that one kid. He knew it was in his good intention, he was a good man after all.

But good intentions wouldn't do, in this war. Not any more.

"He's Tywin Lannister's nephew, is what he is. The two of them are. Both will die."

"My king, please. The boy is only a squire. And lord Frey's grandson. We don't need Walder Frey's opposition. We do need his troops."

Robb grunted. The man was probably right.

But himself had run out of kindness to just spare any fucking lion.

"Bring them both here. Give the Frey boy fifty lashes and make his cousin watch it. Once you're done with it, I will take myself the Lannister boy's bloody head."

And then, it'd be the turn for the Frey kid to watch. In the morning, when everything would be said and over, he would write to his uncle. Tywin Lannister would learn what he had allowed to happen. All of it.

"What about the Kingslayer, your Grace…?"

He paused, only an instant, to give it a thought.

"Bring him as well. He shall see his cousin's execution. That bastard will share the same fate, he may as well know it."

The men around him cheered some, at his words. Robb himself couldn't feel any joy.

He let them know. As soon as dawn came, the Kingslayer would be put to the sword.

But first...


Robb stood there, observing his men dealing with the orders.

A couple of his lords came and went, alarmed as they seemed. They weren't that much sure of his decisions. Was, after all, really wise to get rid of their more valuable prisoners, just like that…?

Detached as he was from everything else but his own pain, Robb kept himself there. Not much far, Tion Frey was crying out, lash after lash, while Willem Lannister observed it, wide-eyed, arms tied to his back and knees on the ground.

They were questioning his sanity, not just only his choices, Robb saw. He couldn't care.

He was fully sure of his actions. There was no point in discussing them.

He ignored his lords until they went away, and the ones that remained only could approve of it. Even vocally. Even too much.

It didn't matter, either.

He only could keep himself there, to make sure it was done.

The punishment came to an end, at some point. The Frey kid was released from that tree.

Robb saw him, falling to the ground, unable to stay over his feet. Red dripped all over his back, soaking wet his breeches.

The boy shook, his now free hands clenching around the grass. He hardly could quieten his sobs.

Robb only could feel spite, seeing that.

Now, it was time.


A (waaay) longer version of this chapter is on ao3 (CW for disturbing themes including murder, graphic rape and torture -please heed the tags) archiveofourownDOTorg/works/32842936