A/N: thanks to everyone who has read.
Roheline: your ship is at the harbor;)
PlumCrazyPurple: thanks for all the support, can't wait for your update.

Chapter 6: The King in the North

"The North remembers"- Wyman Manderly.

Marylean

A commotion could be heard outside of the young Warlord's tent. News of the Lost Princess had traveled throughout the camp swiftly; accompanied by numerous accounts of stories heard over the years, turning even the most fearsome warriors into gossip mongers. Inside a young woman stood, emotions held tightly by a thin thread, as she tried to make sense of the past several hours. She shouldn't have gone traipsing through the bloody woods alone, but when realization struck, it had already been too late; the path she had followed had lead her straight into the jaws of the wolf. The party of five men, baring the unmistakable Stark, direwolf sigil, had spotted her when she had tried to cross the river and had descended all at once. The next thing she knew a barbarian had tied her to a pole in a bloody tent and had refused her request to speak with the Stark Lord. Or so she had thought.

The tall, auburn haired Northman had not been what she expected. All her life the young Lords she had cast a glance upon had been impeccably dressed in the finest of clothing, not a hair out of place, faces as smooth as a babe's bottom. Donned in a dark cloak, breaches and a leather jerkin, The Warden of the North gave the impression that he lacked the ability to see color. His complete disregard of personal space coupled with the way his eyes had lingered on her chest had her thinking that he lacked proper etiquette as well. His hair was unkempt and followed the line of his jaw and upper lip. His pallor was dull and white and had her believing that the ice in the Starks was not restricted to just their veins. The physical similarities between Robb and his father were basically non-existent, the Tully genes were strong, but she had a fleeting thought that personality wise he took after Eddard's side of the coin. Robb Stark was wild, untamed a man that she had to be careful with.

A low growl broke her out of her reverie and turned her attention to the large animal that sat vigilant at the tent flaps. The Northman had left the wolf after his departure, no doubt to ensure that she did not resort to assaulting his mother or worse. The woman in question, Lady Stark, had been bustling about the last couple of minutes, ordering people around. A modest sized tub had been readied at the foot of a bed laden with furs, a large table with numerous figures and papers stood off to the side. The contents of her trunk laid strewn across the floor; jewelry, herbs and a now ruined dress. She thanked the gods that she had the foresight to sew the letters into the trunk itself, albeit haphazardly since her knowledge only went as far as stitches, as she kneeled on the floor and gathered her belongings. Only one piece went unaccounted for: a necklace that her mother had given her when Daena had fled from the Lannister's roar. She had taken it off during her journey North, afraid that it didn't fit with their ruse of being commoners. Now the last evidence she had of her mother's unconditional love and Daena's fight for survival was lost; she became frantic in her search, uncaring of the pitiful azure gaze on her. Marylean could feel her hope dissipating with each second that passed, tears threatening to spill, when the ends of a dark dress entered her vision.

"Is this what you've been looking for, girl?" The words were spoken softly and prompted Marylean to rise at once. Before her, Lady Stark stood, holding out a fine, golden chain from which the Martell sigil hung. She nodded furiously, afraid of using her voice, took the necklace offered to her and clutched it tightly to her chest. "Come, let us get you out of this dress and into the water. You must be freezing." She found herself once again surprised when the red haired, older woman with the sad eyes did not leave her alone, instead helping her out of her ruined garments and into the steaming water. She did not bathe herself, nor did the servants, Lady Stark took on the task; using a rag to gently scrub off all the dirt, grime and blood.
"My late husband wrote about you in his last letter. To say that my son was not impressed that his father stayed to, partially, keep an eye out for you would be an understatement. As you know, a meeting is to be held tonight were your fate would be decided. I cannot guarantee your safety, but if you want a chance to explain yourself, you'll have to tell me everything. I will vouch for you."

There was something about being unclothed that made all pretenses disappear, Marylean found. For as she sat in the tub, a woman that had no reason to be kind to her, showed her mercy, and just as she had bared her flesh, she bared her tale.

"We - my guardian Daena, her daughter Rhayna and our protector, Darion- came back here from the Summer Isles after news reached our ears of Jon Arryn's untimely demise. Lady Daena had said the time for my revelation was near, Dorne supporting our claim. We were to remain in hiding until different opponents tired one another out, when Lord Stark found us and warned that no good would come with our presence. We stayed, gathering intel of what transpired while we were away. After he was taken, the Lannisters somehow caught wind of our presence which led to the Slaughter of Rosby, Daena she-" her voice caught at that part as the grotesque images came to mind. Lady Stark gestured for her to submit her head underneath the water to rinse out any excess soap, which she obliged to.

"We ran, Darion and I, back to were we had been staying and gathered what we could. Dorne would've been the most obvious choice for us to hide and acquiring passage by ship in King's Landing would've been to much of a risk. There is family at the Wall still, I know. Deciding it was the safest option we started traveling North when I found that Darion had been the one who had betrayed us. Wolfsbane got mixed with his drink and I continued on. It was whilst crossing the river when your son's men found me." A few tears had slipped out as the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. Up until now, she had been to busy, running, planning and surviving, that she barely had time to stop and take everything in. Saying it all out loud had her realizing that she was alone, there was no guarantee that Rhayna had made it safely to Dorne, only hope. The water in the tub became difficult to see and soon her whole vision was obscured as sobs wrecked her body. Arms embraced her and she buried her face in a pillow of scarlet locks as she cried.

After a while she finally managed to gain control of her emotions once more and noticed that the large wolf now laid closer to the tub. A small furrow appeared between Lady Catelyn's brows before she voiced her concern "You said that you returned to King's Landing?" Her tone was not accusing, rather puzzled.

Marylean nodded and drew her legs up before she leaned back in the water, soothed by it's heat and the oils, before she continued with her story, omitting a few parts. She told her of how they had been in King's Landing for a year following the Baratheon rule before Eddard found them and sent them off to Essos. She told her of how they had lived there- from what she can remember as a child- and how Darion came to be a part of their lives. She told her how they visited Dorne when she had turned 8 name days and that they stayed there for 3 summers before they left for King's Landing. She recounted the time they spent there, 4 years, before they traveled to the Summer Isles. The tales she told were of trivial things, mishaps, how she learned of herbs and her first time sleeping in a bed. Her and Rhayna's miss adventures as children as well as how the only sewing experience she had, was that of medical reasons.

"Why did you leave King's Landing when you returned?"

Catelyn

Catelyn watched as a darkness seemed to cross over the young girl's eyes when she inquired that, and almost wished she had kept quiet. For there had been a vibrancy when the girl spoke of happier times, a lust for life that she found seldom. Still on her knees, next to the tub, she took the necklace out of the princess' hands and clasped it around her slender, black and blue neck. All in all, the damage that her late husband's ward had done was not as bad as she expected when she first heard the news that he had captured a supposed Lannister spy. That boy's total disregard for women and honour was appalling.

Presently, the girl sported a bruised cheek from where she had undoubtedly been slapped and a split in her lip. There were bruises on her arms, but the worst that she could see where the rope burns on her wrists. Noting the way that the girl had refrained from getting her hands wet, it seemed that they hurt the most to. She wet a rag before she cautiously took her wrists in her hands and dabbed at the wounds. A small hiss could be heard followed by a wince, but the girl did not complain.

"I've learned Lady Stark that what men want, they'll have even at the expense of a child bent over a table. The Red Keep has no room for innocence." Catelyn had stilled her self-appointed task of cleaning up the girl at that. She knew the world was a cruel place, had lived through a war and lost her first betrothed only to wed his younger brother and raise their child alone for 2 years. To hear what had happened to the young girl before her, in a place that was meant to be her home, had her worries for her two daughter's increasing. Even if she had tried to soften the blow with carefully chosen words, the just of it remained the same. In the North her husband would've dealt with the man who took a woman, not to mention child, against their will swiftly and she found herself wishing the worst upon that criminal.

"You can stand now child." Not knowing how to respond to Marylean's revelation, Catelyn opted to shift their focus to something else as she went to fetch the towel laid out on her son's bed. When she turned back to the tub, she found the Princess stood, unashamed of her state of undress it seemed, and was once again reminded of what a nasty hand fate had dealt the woman. She let her dry in peace before she returned with a shift and helped her into it. The garment sat oddly on her, to long at the arms and dragging on the floor, yet tight at her chest.

Catelyn lead her over to the chair at the desk, taking the brush she had brought with her, as she started to work out the tangles in Marylean's dark tresses. "I heard that your father's sister and brother were also exiled to Essos." Catelyn began as she ran the brush through Marylean's hair.

"We went there before we came back to King's Landing. My uncle expressed his desire to either have me as his wife or have me on a spike. The terms were un-agreeable and we stole away in the dead of night on The Silent Maiden."

A silence followed after that, both lost in their thoughts as Catelyn braided her hair as she had done for her daughters numerous times in the past. She missed her children fiercely and she knew that Robb would not appreciate being mothered anymore. Her son was a man now, a warlord, whose ferocity in battle had already earned him the name Young Wolf. She had relished in this time, having a to take care of someone, even if just to remind her of simpler times.

"You have been kind to me Lady Stark, something I am gobsmacked by, which is why I feel I owe you this curtsy; I will not hesitate to do what need's be for the sake of survival. Sacrifices made for me since I was a babe will not be in vain."

There it is, Catelyn thought. The fire she had seen in the girl's eyes when she had spoken to Robb. The underlying threat was clear; she had taken the life of a man she had known all her life, a stranger's was nothing in comparison.

"Just as I will not hesitate to do what need's be for my son to survive."

Robb

Darkness had descended once more, a lover to the silver stars and moon that hung low in the sky met by a few storm clouds, casting a tranquility upon the camp. Inside the ruins of a small, old stone building at the far edge of camp, a furious battle of opinions took place, each Northern Lord wanting their opinion to be stated and heard, their voices silenced to the outside world by a rain that fell sporadically, a regular occurrence in the Riverlands. A tarp served as a roof, keeping the occupants dry as a large fire crackled in its brazier, casting an orange glow upon the battle hardened Northeners. A large, Stark banner lined the entry way as candles lined the table the Lord's sat at, some with Ladies from their houses, given that they were near by.

Robb sat at the head of the meeting, listening intently to everyone. Beside him, to the right his mother sat silent as a mouse, as she sipped from her cup, head held high. After he had collected her from his tent, he bade Grey Wind to stay with the prisoner, a guard was posted as well. All his Lady mother had told him was that the girl was to stay here, under their protection for as long as need be. In all honesty, the reaction he had gotten from her was not what he had expected. Instead of hate, he discovered that she held a certain sympathy for the girl that had condemned his father to death.

"The correct course of action is clear." A middle aged man with a few grey hairs stated. "Pledge fealty to King Renly hi-"

"Renly is not the King." Robb interjected, exasperated. His patience with the men was wearing thin. The debate had begun a while ago and an agreement had yet to be reached.

"Pledge fealty to King Joffrey my Lord, you surely cannot mean to do that. He had condemned your father to death!" The same man exclaimed and he saw his mother tense beside him.

"Bran cannot become Lord before I, just as Renly cannot become King before Stannis." When he spoke, he used the same tone of voice he had used when speaking to Theon, his Robb-the-Lord voice as Bran would say.

A terse silence followed, men casting glances around the room, ready to see who would voice what they were all thinking. The same man that had spoke before, rose to the challenge again. "Declare us with Stannis, my Lord, is that what you will have us do?."

"Stannis is not right!" Someone else started and the battle to be heard began once again, some Lords even hurling insults at one another. Robb knew that given his age, some men still did not hold respect for him, no matter how many times he had proven himself in battle.

"Silence." Robb exclaimed and all at once the ruse died down, before Lord Umber rose, standing tall and proud as his voice bounced off the Stones in Ruins. Every eye followed him, just as every ear heard, even the crickets fell silent.

"My Lords," The Greatjon spoke as he claimed the floor "here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat at the ground, before he continued. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? They know nothing of war and the Wolfswood. Even their Gods are wrong! Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to, and now a Dragon has been brought to her knees in our Lord's tent!."

His words were met with loud cheering and laughs. The Lords were captivated by the truth as Lord Umber spoke and the first time that evening, every Lord seemed to agree. The flames flickered and the fire burned brighter as the morale went up. With a flourish Lord Umber unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Robb. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee too! THE KING IN THE NORTH!" He bent the knee at that as he pledged fealty to his King. Robb stood before Lord Umber, stoic and silent.

"Aye, I'll have piece on those terms, they can keep their Red Keep and Iron Chair, the King in the North!" Another Lord cried as he too rose to his feet only to fall to his knees.

"Am I your brother, now and always?" Theon spoke, hand on the hilt of his sword, next to Robb.

"Now and always." Robb agreed with a slow nod, recounting the same pledge he, Theon and Jon had made as children

"My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, form this day until my last day." His friend, nay brother stated. After that all the Lord's seemed to agree as they rose and declared their King with one voice, as one man, in the ruins of a stone building.

Robb looked back at his mother, who had also stood, a proud, yet grim smile upon her face as she walked and came to a stop next to him.

"The floor is yours, My King." She declared in a voice void of emotion before she bowed her head and went back to her seat.

"Rise men, plans still needs to be discussed." His first order as King and he watched the men rise and take their seats again with a new found fervor. They fight for the North now, their families, their lands, their legacy. No more was their march one of revenge, but one of freedom and they relished in it. He was adamant that his first impression of King be not that of a dumbstruck green boy, but that of a man with a purpose.

Their first order of discussion was what their next move will be and it was quickly agreed upon that for the time being it would be best to oppress any Lannister forces from moving further North. Allies needed to be found and at this time the most likely would be Renly and the Greyjoy's, although he was a bit skeptic of the latter. Smaller matters were discussed, were to move next; Riverrun, provisions for men and what they'll need. Smaller towns in the Riverland's will be supported it was decided, given the recent battles that took place here, the people needed all the money they could get.

The closer the meeting came to an end, the darker the omen that crept upon them. Thus far no one had mentioned the late Rhaegar and Elia's child nor what her presence meant for their future.
An eerily quiet settled over the Lords and Ladies as the fire flickered down. Rain clouds had covered the sky as far as the eye could see at this point, chasing away the tranquility that came with the stars and moon. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops fell relentlessly on their makeshift roof as the wind howled in the distance.

"Recent events have found us with Marylean Targaryen in our camp. According to her, Dorne is backing her claim to the Iron Throne. I say, the girl stays." It was his mother's voice that brought the sensitive subject to light and with it another debate.

"The wench is cursed! Everywhere she goes, death follows, look at what happened to Rosby and shortly after her birth her family was slain!" A potbellied lord exclaimed. A chorus of "Aye's" followed his statement before another lord spoke.

"Give her back to Dorne, form an alliance." The man declared.

"With what? Our King is already betrothed and we all know the Martells hold contempt for the Starks." Another lord stated. Robb contemplated that statement and found that the lord was correct. According to Dorne, it was his aunt, Lyanna Stark that had seduced Rhaegar Targaryen, intent on murdering Elia Martell to claim her title as queen. He doubted that they'd ally themselves with Northerners.

"She is a witch, the girl will bring death upon us all. She had even prophecized the start of the War, I've heard!"

"Kill the Princess of Prophecies!" a shout went out "give her to the Lannisters!" another Lord was heard.

Her reputation preceded her it seemed, as lords recounted the tales of what they had heard.

"Robb, you cannot condemn her to such a fate." His mother hissed close to him. Seeing that it was a debate that could take hours for them to reach an accord he slammed his fist on the table and met Lord Umber's eye.

"I more than anyone, would like to see her gone. Were it not for her foolishness, my father may have still been with us today, but I'll heed Lady Stark's request. The princess is to stay here, she may be of use to us if rumours of a Targaryen uprise in Essos prove to be true." The murmur had simmered down as a decision was made. "The meeting is dismissed, my Lords, I bid you all goodnight." With that, Robb stood and escorted his mother back to her tent. The men left after their King's departure.

...

It was late at night when he returned to his tent, wet and exhausted after the meeting. King in the North, they had called him. He still had trouble wrapping his head around his newly acquired title but he had already felt the weight on his shoulders increase ten fold. After he had bade his mother goodnight in her tent, he had seeked solace at the edge of camp, by the tree that he had ruined his sword upon, to pray to the Old Gods, ask for guidance, strength and patience before he returned back to his quarters. He stood before the flaps now, dismissing the guard that still stood soaked at the entrance, before he went inside.

Candles stood everywhere, their flames burned bright and forced him to cover his eyes momentarily, having not yet adjusted. At the edge of his desk, feet resting on the chair in front of it, the thorn in his side sat: dressed in a shift that was clearly not hers, hair in a long thick braid down her back, reading a book. Grey Wind laid at the foot of his bed and watched her intently even as he rose and came to stand at Robb's side.

He removed his soaked cloak, glad to be gone of the stifling heat as he spoke. "A verdict has been reached."

He watched her intently as she closed the book and rose to her very un-threatening height. The shift that she wore was white, the ends stained brown, while her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, revealing her bandaged wrists.

"And what is my sentence Northman?" She spoke with contempt, her arms- folded beneath her chest- pushed her tightly laced breasts up even higher and made the necklace she wore rest askew on her chest. He didn't know how she had managed to lure his mother into a false sense of security, but he was adamant that he would not fall victim as well.

"That is King Northman to you Snake." He could've kicked himself for falling for the bait. It was clear that she had meant to rile him up with her total disregard for proper titles.

When Grey Wind shifted at his side, he saw her confidence falter. The girl was scared of the big bad wolf, it seemed. "My men would have you dead or thrown to the Lannisters." he began and although her expression didn't falter again, he could see the fear enter her eyes.

Silence settled between them that appeared to stretch for an eternity. Then, in a matter of seconds, the fear seemed to left her. "You will not kill or harm me, King Stark." She declared with confidence.

"And why is that?"

"Because your father is the one who saved me." At the mention of his father, Robb snapped and closed the distance between them in long strides, before he gripped her upper arms.

"You will not speak about my father again," he began, each word punctuated by a shake "if it weren't for my mother and your possible use for me, I would not hesitate to do as they asked. My father my have saved you but you are in my camp, under my rule and I am not him. Do not test my patience Marylean for you will find that I have none." Fear had entered her eyes tenfold at that stage, and he found a sickly sweet pride upon witnessing it.

The presence of someone else in the tent had him releasing the girl in his hands to find Olyvar, his squire, shifting nervously at the flaps.

"Your mother sent me to come fetch the girl, Your Grace." He stammered.

The Princess didn't seem to need any more encouragement as she followed his squire out of the tent.

His bed beckoned him and, after removing his jerkin and shirt, he fell upon it. That night he did not dream.

A/N: once again thank you to any and everyone who has read, reviewed, faved and followed. Sincerely hope that you all continue to enjoy this.