A/N: Sorry it took a while. I've been so busy. I have a new job and it's been a bit hectic for a full 6 months. Barely had time to write it. That being said, this chapter is a little lackluster. But have to start somewhere right? Tell me what you think down at the comments. I may not reply but I read all of them, that's for sure. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.
Summary: When Ned finally told Catelyn about Jon Snow's mother, he had not expected for things to turn out the way they did in the end. It was so unfortunate that Robert had been smarter than Ned ever thought he was. AU.
HUSTER TULLY
"This will be young Robb's first battle, then." The Lord of Riverrun said as he slowly approached his daughter, his bones aching as he settled himself beside her. Cat's eyes were red and fatigued, the sign of a mother's worry for her son's life. She was standing by the window overlooking the great river that ran along their home, her gaze far away and disturbed.
"Yes, it will be." She rasped. "I fear for him. He was so angry when he left."
Huster sighed and moved closer, a weathered hand on her shoulder. "It is natural to worry for him for you are his mother. Yet Robb Stark is a good fighter and he has his wolf by his side. He will come home, little Cat. You'll see. He will make a fine soldier, and an even better Lord one day."
"He is still my son. I don't know what I'll do if I lost him." Cat sobbed. Huster wrapped his arm around her then as she buried her head in her hands.
"When you and Lysa left home, I thought it would bring you both happiness to finally be a woman of your own right." Huster began. "I thought it was for your own good."
She looked up and said, "It was. I was the happiest I can be."
"Not for Lysa." Huster whispered. "Sometimes, what we want for our children isn't always what's good for them. Let Robb make his own way."
Cat frowned. "Lysa made her choice," she snide, voice suddenly scathing. Lysa had been a fool. Wherever she was hiding now, Cat sincerely wished she would rot there. "She killed Lord Arryn and plunged the kingdoms into even more chaos."
"Aye, she made her choice. But she is still my daughter. Nothing will ever make a father forsake a child he loves." Huster had a melancholic smile. "It seems we both worry for our own."
"Family, Duty, Honor." Cat smiled just as sad in return.
"That's right." Huster said, hugging her closer. He feels his body turning frail and fatigued but he held onto her and took heart. His dear Cat. In her long period of vigil, she would need his strength more than him. "Whatever the case may be, they are still our own to protect and love. Family."
ROBB
They stroke with the full force of their and their allies' naval power upon the Iron Islands.
The journey to siege the castle lasted for days. Twenty thousand soldiers marched on the Ironborn hellbent on revenge and misplaced glory as ruthless blades rained down on them all. They didn't stand a chance. With surprise and numbers on their side, Pyke's strong gates were thrown open and the fighting commenced. Even with the fleet under the Ironborn's command were severely outmatched. Dorne, the Riverlands, and the entire North sailed and laid waste to their ships.
The battle on their shores that followed had been pure chaos.
Every inch of the castle had been filled with men beaten down and hacked apart, cries of rage and agony resonating like a wicked song of the damned. Robb was in the thick of it all, leading his men deeper into the Greyjoy's stronghold, unleashing his wrath onto every Ironborn in his path. His sword swung with lethal grace, a show of brute strength and skill the North boasted the heir of the North possessed. The invasion was something grand and complex, he knew. He planned it along with some of the greatest warriors in the seven kingdoms. Robb didn't give a fuck about it now, running across the battlefield, drowned in death.
Greywind fought beside him. The wolf was an extension of his body, his eyes behind his head, and the jaws and claws of his mercilessness. The intoxicating crunch of bones breaking and the piercing sound of skin tearing empowered him so much he could almost taste the blood dripping down his wolf's chin. They held nothing back. Robb laid waste to everything with the Kraken's sigil, sparing no man to get to Theon's traitorous throat. Vengeance thrummed mightily underneath his skin.
And when he finally came upon the fool who betrayed him, the man who grew to be his friend—the boy he had treated like a brother—Robb froze.
Theon turned his head from where he laid by the Salt Throne, blood oozing from his lips, a dagger plunged into his chest by his own father. Lord Greyjoy laid dead only a few steps away, an ax embedded on his back. His sister, Asha Greyjoy, had tears streaming down her face and was kneeling beside her brother, pressing his wound close as if it can still save him, her eyes fiercely defiant.
"Robb," Theon rasped, stretching his hand.
Suddenly, everything faded away. Everything was still and quiet save for the dying gasps Theon made on the back of his throat. Jon was far from his mind when he rushed to his friend's side and cradled his hand. He pressed harder on top of Asha's blood-soaked palm and looked wildly behind him. His men were baffled by his actions, as was Asha.
"Robb." Theon rasped again, his eyes leaking with tears. "I—I'm sorry."
All of Robb's rage and vengeance ebbed away. Why couldn't it have stayed the same? They were happy. They were whole. They were just boys playing with wooden swords once. But only Robb is standing whole now. Jon was on the verge of death a thousand miles away, and so was Theon.
"You fucking fool," Robb gritted out, desperately clutching the wound close atop Asha's hand. "Don't fucking talk. We can fix this!"
"I—I didn't mean for it—t-to happen." Theon sobbed. His wound was too deep to save. "I—I only w-wanted to be a-a p-part of it."
Everything that Robb had once loved is slowly crumbling. He had been so angry, so full of rage. But now that has disappeared. Now, he was just empty. Maybe he would follow Theon and Jon. Maybe, after all this, he wouldn't be as whole, too.
"You were always a part of it." Robb whispered brokenly. "You were one of us. Why did you betray us?"
"I—I had to ch-choose." Theon whimpered. "I-I-I'm s-sorry."
"You didn't have to choose!" Robb cried, shaking Theon's chest. "You were our family and you were theirs, too. You were a Stark and a Greyjoy! We never needed you to choose!"
Theon sobbed and laughed at the same time, as if he never realized that. He probably never did. Regret filled Theon's eyes. "I'm s-sorry, Robb. I-I'm sorry. I'm s—Robb—"
Robb witnessed Theon's eyes glaze and he was gone.
Even after the king took Jon, Robb didn't know loss could hurt this bad.
ROBERT
"The wolves have gone hunting." Tyrion said as a way of greeting, approaching the king fearlessly and reaching for the wine.
Robert sighed as he watched the little Lannister made himself comfortable on the seat next to him. Barristan, who sat on the adjacent seat to Tyrion, gave him an exasperated look. They were alone in the Small Council's chamber midafternoon after receiving the Spider's reports on the Northern invasion of the Iron Islands. The scrolls laid unrolled in front of Robert, mocking him without reserve. A week of sieging, assassinations and naval warfare, and the Ironborn were neutralized. It was cunning and ruthless. Robert's namesake is truly a rising strategist that could one day rival even Tywin Lannister himself.
Robert's problems had just multiplied itself to thousands.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, I'm not a warrior." Tyrion began again after drinking half of his cup. He tentatively reached for the scrolls. He read similar reports from the Spider, Robert knew. "But if I'm not mistaken, Robb Stark employed the pincer maneuver on a largescale fleet invasion, did he not?"
"Yes," Robert answered, his mind going over the battle once again. "Robb Stark defeated the fucking Ironborn with decoy ships sailing for Pyke. Pirates from the Free Cities who jumped ships and swam away the moment the Ironborn were upon them."
"They filled the deck with armored straw dummies and set them all ablaze once the ships were in range." Barristan supplied. "Barrels of oil laid in the bowels of the ships and they exploded just as the Ironborn arrived on deck. The real battleships sailed from the sides in a surprise attack and Stark's forces won. Even the Ironborn's naval prowess could not stand against the numbers they brought. Twenty thousand strong to a meagre seven thousand. It was a massacre."
"Stealth during a battle. That sounds like something the Dornish would do." Tyrion muttered, looking into his now empty cup. Robert watched him and snorted. It was most likely the Dornish, yes.
"The North and Riverlands' fleets arrived first. Even with the distraction, the fleets were both equally matched." Barristan continued, speaking as if he was a general in battle. "Until their reinforcements arrived with Dorne's own fleet. The Northmen and the Riverlands may not have possessed stellar fleets but they outnumbered the Ironborn then, who weren't sufficiently trained in close combats. Robb Stark's fleet needed only to board the ships and he had the upper hand. He won the battle after hours of fighting and continued to Pyke."
"Oberyn, along with his bastard Sand Snakes, assassinated the damn high lords and ladies of the Iron Islands. They took the children fucking hostage. The men and women who fought them were all killed." Robert took over, gulping his wine down. His fingers fiddling with the scattered scrolls. "Robb Stark charged straight for Pyke all the fucking while. The battle lasted for a day and a half and they laid siege to the castle. When the gates broke, Robb Stark and his damn wolf slaughtered every soldier in his way, hunting for Theon Greyjoy. Only to discover he had nothing to truly gain from the bloodshed. Theon Greyjoy was fucking killed by his own father and old Greyjoy was killed by his own daughter. For refusing to surrender as their people were slaughtered."
"What a fucking nightmare," Tyrion muttered. He paused for a moment. "What's to say they left it at that? That the Starks would have stopped with Theon Greyjoy? We sent them the messages proclaiming Jon your heir, they would have no choice but to halt all hostilities with us and talk."
Robert scoffed. "I know the North. You think they march just for House Stark's honor? No. The Northmen has wanted their independence since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen. If the Starks win the game of thrones, Ned's bannermen would demand their independence while still hail Jon as king. An independent kingdom but with a Northerner sitting on the Iron Throne."
"The same outcome." Barristan observed. "But a whole other war."
"It's in our best interest to have them see it would benefit them not to fight." Tyrion insisted. He did not need to. Those before him are much more determined to deter a war. "There has to be a way to make them see. I quite like my head where it is."
Robert considered him. "If they win the war, you have not much to worry. Jon has taken a liking to you. He would save your pretty little head, Imp." Robert told him plainly, without bite. He sighed, flicking the scrolls. "A war has been brewing for years. All it ever needed was a reason. I gave them a good fucking reason."
Tyrion and Barristan exchanged a look.
"Is there any news from the Starks?" Robert demanded, draining his cup and refilling it. "Did they respond? What have they to say?"
"There's no word yet, Your Grace." Tyrion answered. "Varys has taken to tasking his little birds in assessing how well they received it. It would take some time, still—"
He waved Tyrion to be silent and the imp's words trailed. Barristan gave Tyrion another look. Robert had enough of them both.
"Go," he ordered. "Leave me for now. I want to gather my thoughts."
Both Hand and Commander bowed and left.
Robert knew wolves were dangerous, he just never realized it until now. Now, when he was on the receiving end of their teeth and claws. The North Robert prayed to the gods, Old and New, that Ned would listen. Even for only a moment.
By the Seven, Ned, I need you to fucking listen, Robert thought desperately.
All throughout the Seven Kingdoms, it has been decreed. A small scroll brought by black wings. Arguing if it was madness or a trap, Robert had now the full, undivided attention of the whole continent once more. Flicking through a spare parchment, he read once again:
"I, Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby decree Jon Snow be legitimized as Jon Stark, Ward of House Baratheon, and made Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, heir to the Iron Throne."