Catelyn
Catelyn never wished anyone ill, least of all the girl she wanted Robb to marry. A simple ride had turned into a mess and Jeyne, due to her small stature, had returned hypothermic. Robb had refused to leave her side, even though he'd been in the same weather, propped up in a chair as he watched over her. She'd come to deliver a set of blankets for him in the night, noticing how old her son as grown over the years. She thought she noticed a change in him from just the few short weeks that Jeyne had been staying with them. When had her baby turned into a handsome man with a beard and auburn curls? Her eyes slid over to Jeyne who was peaceful in her sleep, considerably more innocent and lacking the smooth mask she wore publicly.
Oh you fool, you've already fallen in love with her, she thought glancing at her sleeping son as he sat in the chair covered in the furs she had just brought. His hair was a mess, he'd barely cleaned himself up from being stuck in the storm. Catelyn smiled in spite of herself. She'd been worried at first, but now she just craved to see the pieces fall in place. Bending down, she kissed her son on his brow and left the chambers. Robb needed a strong woman, one who could think for herself, and Jeyne needed a man who would love her for her faults and strengths, seeing the value in her intelligence. The wolf and the falcon united. Ned had wanted it from the beginning and Catelyn was jumping onto the bandwagon late.
She traveled back to the Great Keep and to her chambers to find Ned by the fire. They hadn't been given the chance to fall in love before their betrothal, but she'd always been happy with the turn of events. Forging their relationship link by link, it was stronger than that of a quick passionate love. Just before her very eyes she saw Robb and Jeyne doing the same. When she approached Ned she noticed that he was dwelling, his brows heavy over his long face as he gazed into the flames.
"What is it, my love?" Catelyn asked, wrapping her arms around him from the side.
Ned took her into his arms, almost as if they were half their age again. He opened one hand and a piece of parchment unfurled from it. He never kept anything from her, as she nothing from him. Taking the letter, she scanned it over a few times.
"But we have Theon," Catelyn breathed, astounded by the news that the ironborn had taken Flint's Finger. Men had been sent south to handle this and either they had not arrived in time or they too had fallen under the siege. Why would they dispute the peace? But the bottom of the note indicated why. Balon Greyjoy had not attacked them, it was his brother Euron claiming himself as king. "Balon, what happened to Balon?"
"I don't know, but Euron is in command of the Iron Islands now. Theon is meaningless to him and will buy us little leverage," she knew what Ned was leaning toward, why he had been brooding by the fire.
"And are there any reports of the ironborn harrying the Riverlands or the Westerlands?"
"No, they've made it clear that the north is their primary target. This isn't simply pillaging and leaving, they've set up host in Flint's Finger," Ned reported darkly. "If Flint's Finger is allowed to fester, they'll grow bolder and move onward. I need to go south before they try moving up river to Torrhen's Square or Barrowton."
Pursing her lips she nodded. How many times had she seen Ned off to war? Worrying about whether or not her husband would return to her alive or dead? He'd already sent men to address the issue and they had failed. Now he would have to summon a larger host and march himself to meet the ironborn upstart. With how south the meeting with King Robert had gone, he couldn't request aid south of the Twins unless he was going to implore with her father to use the men of the Riverlands as a distraction. For now, the issue was not yet severe enough to risk exposing the north's weakened state after one of their main forts was taken.
"Then you'll be summoning the banners?" Catelyn muttered quietly.
"The western ones, yes," Ned agreed, leaving more questions hanging heavy in the air. "Robb should come with me."
Already it was more than enough that Ned was going to be leaving her again, but to think that he was going to bring her eldest son made her sick. Even if she had just thought about mature Robb had become, he was still to young to go to battle. "But… Lady Jeyne," Catelyn tried to come up with an excuse. "If Robb leaves suitors from other houses will come. Domeric Bolton… Any of the Karstark sons. They're not participating in this bout," she reminded him, clinging to the idea that this might keep Robb in Winterfell. Ned had been fond of the idea of them marrying and if he separated them so early into their bonding, it was possible that another suitor would supplant themself.
"I want Lady Jeyne to come as well," Ned said stoutly causing Catelyn to gasp.
"What? Ned are you mad?" she reached up and pressed her fingers to his brow, checking his temperature.
Ned reached up and took her hand in his. "The girl is more experienced than Robb when it comes to squashing rebellions. Or have you forgotten that she personally led her own people against the Hill Tribes in the Vale? Her perspective would be highly valued," he paused to consider her. "And I also do not think it wise to separate Robb from her. I'm not as blind you may think I am."
"War isn't exactly the place for courting," Catelyn grimaced, still not favoring the idea.
"If you could have been beside me, safe in a basecamp the entire time, would you?" Ned posed the question.
Catelyn had been pregnant at the time, but if she hadn't been… Perhaps. Maybe she could have kept Ned from cheating on her and creating the bastard boy. "If Jeyne is going to remain in basecamps away from the fighting then…" she exhaled deeply, trying to fathom how this was going to work. Women were not scant in war camps. In fact, whores followed them around to quell their desires. On the other hand, high born ladies were uncommon, but if Ned chose her to be one of the advisors there was little she could do to deter him otherwise. All she could hope was that Jeyne might decline the offer and resign to staying in Winterfell.
She won't, Catelyn thought with dismay. "And what happens if one of them dies? If Robb dies? Or if Jeyne dies and Robb can't save her?" she challenged, feeling heat rise in her chest and surface to her face. Pressing her face into Ned's neck she tried not to imagine either of them dead, but the worst situations kept twisting to her mind in cruel nightmares.
"That won't happen," Ned promised solemnly.
"They could both stay here safe. Robb could take over as Lord of Winterfell while you're gone," she argued.
"He needs this. He's not a boy anymore Cat," Ned shook his head.
"So then the duty falls to me. While I worry sick about all of you, I also have to take care of Winterfell," she wasn't trying to sound the victim, but the conversation was taking a turn she did not like.
"You've done it multiple times before and Sansa is here to aid you," Ned reminded her. "No ill will befall them. Robb is a spectacular swordsman and he won't be on the front lines-"
"I don't want to talk of this anymore Ned," Catelyn whispered, bringing an abrupt end. She would have to visit the sept everyday from now on to pray for them. Before they left, while they were gone, and until they returned.
Jeyne
Last she remembered they had been sheltering from the storm, which had blown out of nowhere. Their clothes had been soaked through in a matter of minutes and they were forced to try and find a place to hide while the worst of it passed overhead. When she had passed out, she had no idea what transpired, because she woke back up in her bed in Winterfell. With a start, she sat up, Greywind lifting his massive head to look at her. Beside her, Robb was slumped in his chair, his hair messily stuck to his head and he was covered in furs. Beside the fireplace, his boots and outerwear had been laid out to dry.
What... she thought, glancing around as she felt hot from how the fire had been piled high. She recalled very little other than huddling close against Robb, her skin freezing from the wind and water. Realization dawned on her, why she not woken up; she had become hypothermic. Her eyes slid over to Robb, wondering how he had fared. Well enough to get me back to Winterfell, she thought, Greywind licking her fingers as she sat up in bed.
Yesterday had been a heavy day. A day that she had betrayed more of herself than she had dared since her father. Even then, there was only so much that he father could understand seeing how much older he was than her. She cocked her head, feeling the grime on her skin and wished she could take a bath to remove it. She didn't want to disturb him, not after he had managed to get them both back to Winterfell safely. That had certainly been no small feat.
I want to concede to him, I really do, she thought desperately, pushing out a sigh. Her own self consciousness made her doubtful, even if Robb treated her as an equal, which was all she ever wanted. She didn't want to be viewed as a weak lady who only had words at her disposal. She'd accomplished so much... Aside from the whole hypothermia deal. Her cheeks flushed at the idea of falling prey to the cold. She was from the mountains, the cold shouldn't have bothered her so much. It's my small stature. I'd fall prey to hypothermia well before Robb would, she reminded herself, trying to use logic to lift her spirits.
"You're awake," Robb observed, startling her. He was blinking his eyes slowly, his rich eyes setting on her.
"As are you," she retorted. "Hypothermia I presume?" she motioned to herself and the fresh chemise she had been reduced to. Her brows pulled together when she considered it and she gave him a suspicious look.
Robb read her mind. "Maester Lewin had a servant strip you down," he told her swiftly, but paused to consider her. A smirk appeared on his face that made gooseflesh prickle against her arms, though not in an unpleasant way. "But you did say something interesting last night."
Her eyes remained narrowed, waiting for him to divulge the information. However, Robb rolled down the blankets and placed his hands on his lap. The collar of his linen tunic was folded down and she could see a slip of the smooth skin on his chest. She averted her eyes, it was rather hot in the room, wasn't it? "And?" she huffed finally.
"I don't know if I should tell you. Clearly you don't remember," the curve of his lips, his river blue eyes on her.
"Whatever I said when I was lucid could have been a manifestation of my subconscious mind. What did I say?" she prompted, hoping that the burning of her cheeks was not obvious. When she was fully clothed and not recovering of yet another ailment, she had the fullness of her confidence behind her. Her mask would not falter... At least not in public. Each time she was with Robb he had a way of making her speak more than she preferred. There was something about him, just as there was about all of the Starks. She trusted them unlike the Baratheons. They had no hidden motives.
Robb's smile only grew. "If you truly wish to know I will tell you," he drew a breath she considered dramatic for him. "You might have admitted to being fond of me."
"Well of course I'm fond of you," Jeyne scowled.
"I don't think you meant it in that manner," Robb mused.
Of course I didn't. We were talking about marriage yesterday, she thought, trying to think of a quick comeback. "Can you read minds?" a poor retort, she was backpedalling in the conversation, finding herself backed into a proverbial corner.
"I cannot, but I know you have a sense of pride too keen to lie to me," he shrugged, standing up and setting the blankets in a pile on the chair. She was too distracted by him to fuss over the mess. She despised messes. Robb arched his back and flexed his shoulders, having been stiff from sleeping in a chair. The thin tunic rose and revealed part of his stomach, hard compact abs the muscles outline against his skin, a trail of hair that went down to his trousers. Again, she was staring and this time she got caught. "Jeyne," Robb purred huskily, her face turning more red than a tomato.
Crossing her arms like a petulant child and snapping her head away she huffed. "You're right, I don't lie," she sniffed. "But I warned you yesterday of my demeanor. Being fond of one another is not enough."
"But it's a beginning," Robb pointed out, retreating to the hearth so he could pull his boots on begin lacing up his leather jerkin. He had just tossed his cloak around his shoulders when she considered how uncomfortable he must have been all night.
"Robb... Thank you," she told him as he was adjusting the crisscrossing straps on his cloak. Her words went deeper than her gratitude for him bringing her back to Winterfell. "For dragging me back here, for listening to me-"
"You're not very heavy," Robb jested as he got himself into order. "I wanted to know. I want to know. I care for you."
Even if she was blatantly aware of this, it still made her blush. "That much is clear from your actions yesterday."
"Was I supposed to leave a lady in the woods?" Robb smirked at her.
"Well, no... but you didn't have to stay with me all night, especially seeing you also were subjected to the same weather," she pointed out.
Robb stepped toward her and picked up her hand. His fingers were rough and calloused. Hers were soft for the most part aside from where she worked with a bow, her fingertips hard. "Do I have to repeat myself again?"
"No," Jeyne resigned herself as he lifted her hand and kissed it, his beard scratching against it. Her heart flickered, a gesture she'd experienced multiple times before without any reaction. His eyes boring into hers, she cleared her throat and he finally released her. Curse him, she thought as he stepped away, his smile alerting her that he knew he'd hit a nerve with her.
"I hope to see you later today, my lady," Robb bid before he headed to the door, Greywind giving a final lick of her hand and departing with his master. When the door clicked shut and she flopped back into bed with an exasperated groan. Falling for Robb Stark? Her fingers picked at the sheets and her cheeks flushed at the thought of him. After her years of poor matches, obnoxious suitors, and Steffon the gods had finally put a man in her path that might have a chance. She wasn't overtly romantic, King's Landing had soured that fruit for her, but Robb had been given multiple chances to do the wrong thing and he always surprised her.
She glared at the ceiling, almost as if she could gaze at the sky above and into the heavens where her father was. You know. I tried to be nonchalant about it, but you knew. How did you always know? she thought, noting that she'd like to visit the sept later to pay her respects. Her father had always known her best, perhaps more than she knew herself. The reminder of him made her sniffle.
Jeyne regained her composure before she summoned a servant to have the copper tub filled for her. The mineral filled spring water of Winterfell seeped through her skin and into her bones. She dismissed the servant girl and eased herself into the water to scrub the day's worth of travel off. With a sponge she lathered it up with soap and lavender oil. Baths had always been therapeutic, a time where she could take a straight razor and clean herself of hair and dead skin. She's noticed since arriving in Winterfell that her skin was soft and radiant, presuming that the minerals in the water help rejuvenate her. It worked wonders on her calloused feet and saddle sores.
Jeyne decided to curl her hair that morning, spending a little extra time being vain as she twisted her wet hair around clips. She spent time by the fire grooming herself while her hair dried. She always made certain that she was dressed respectably, not a piece of hair out of place or wrinkle in her dresses. First impressions were important as well as upkeeping an air of collectedness. Riding clothes were another matter, but when she was Jeyne the Lady, she made certain to be flawless.
She had few dresses that were not of her house colors or riding gowns. With the temperature progressing slowly to cooler and cooler, she was leaning toward the layered brocade gowns and had put an order into have more made that were suitable for winter. Still preferential to colors in the wheelhouse of green and blue, she went with a seafoam embroidered in pearly white thread, printed with the moons and falcons. The fabric cinched her waist before falling down in a this curtain. She hated trains and all of her gowns were tailored to fall right over her feet. The only thing special about the pale green gown was that it had a lovely neckline that slid down in a narrow 'V' shape to reveal her collar and slightly between her breasts.
Securing her cloak around her shoulders, she began working the clips from her hair and let her pale blonde tresses fall in luminous curls down her shoulders and back. She didn't spoil them by tying them up or creating some intricate hairstyle. Instead, she left them loose and bouncing, finishing her ensemble by dabbing on some perfume. After cleaning her room and leaving the additional blankets on the edge of the bed, she let out a low huff of delight and exited her chambers. Having given herself a full spa treatment, it was nearly noon by then and despite her run in with nearly freezing to death, Jeyne felt nothing other than hunger.
Part way through the courtyard, Jeyne crossed paths with young Lady Sansa and her companion Jeyne Poole.
"Oh, Lady Jeyne I'm so happy to see you're feeling better. I heard you'd just gone riding with Robb only to fall ill from the rain," Sansa greeted, her face turned in worry as she inspected her.
With a wry twist of her lips, she nodded. "Yes, the weather was quite... ironic. However, I feel well today aside from the hunger pangs."
"That's good, I was very worried," Sansa looked just as concerned as she claimed. The girl had been partial to her the moment she stepped into Winterfell. It was almost as if Sansa thought Jeyne was a model figure of a southron lady. "Perhaps we can find time to sit and do some needlework and chat."
Jeyne saw right Sansa's intentions. At this point it would appear as if Robb was courting her. Was Robb courting her? I suppose he is, she thought. Sansa would want to know all about Jeyne's affections and what Robb was doing to impress her. Living in her own romantic fantasy, Sansa would grab every chance she had to live vicariously through someone. Unfortunately for her, Jeyne was not the sort to kiss and tell… or court and tell. She preferred keeping personal matters to herself.
"Of course, maybe later today," Jeyne agreed, though she would have preferred to decline. She had to keep up a certain image and that meant not always doing what she wanted. Arya was much better company than Sansa, certainly much more interesting. "I will send for you late, Lady Sansa."
Diverging from the young girls she made her way to the kitchens which were sweltering when compared to outside. Jeyne was fond of the brisk weather, which did not have the same ripping wind of the mountains. She was inclined to the cold versus the subtropical heat of the south. She found it to be sticky and unpleasant, not to mention wearing dresses with sleeves was almost a crime due to how much you would sweat. Ever the clean freak, Jeyne had been bathing twice a day to try and keep herself pristine.
Gage was a robust man in a smock, his daughter Turnip scurrying out of view when she entered. He wasn't too taken aback to see her as she would often harvest ripened vegetables and fruit for him when she noticed them in the Glass Gardens. Since he'd mistaken her for a servant due to wearing a roughspun dress in the greenhouse, Gage was always trying to make up for his embarrassing blunder.
"My lady," he greeted quickly.
"Good afternoon Gage," she returned with a smile, glancing around to see what he had been working on. She could smell the fresh bed slathered with a layer of honey and pastries he had cooling on the counter. "I was wondering if I could pilfer some food from you. I have no doubt you heard of my adventure yesterday and due to it, I haven't eaten in over a day."
Word traveled fast in Winterfell, the servants always gossiped among themselves, and whatever Eddard Stark did not know, he would soon be informed. Gage nodded eagerly. Arya had once told her how the head chef hated her and would chase her or Bran out with a wooden spoon for trying to steal lemon cakes or honey bread. "I've got some venison stew over the fire and some bread fresh from the oven. I hope that will please you, my lady."
"Oh that sounds wonderful, Gage," Jeyne could have eaten raw dough at this point.
Gage found a stool for her to sit on and fetched her a piping bowl of venison stew. Northern food was hearty, spiced with only herbs that grew locally; thyme, sage, rosemary, or parsley. Aside from the venison, there was potatoes, carrots, turnips, celery, onions, and fennel diced and added for flavor. He also delivered a plate with fresh honey bread and black bread for dipping in the soup.
"It looks divine, thank you Gage," Jeyne told him as he left her by a counter to enjoy the first hot meal she'd had in a few days. By the time food had delivered to her room, it was either lukewarm or cold. She scalded her tongue on the soup, but savored every drop of it. She must have startled Gage with her appetite, because when he returned to check on her he was astounded to see that she had devoured it. After thanking him again, Jeyne flounced off to go find the sept.
When compared to that in King's Landing, the sept in Winterfell was little more than a shed. Jeyne wasn't surprised, as the primary religion this far north was that of the Old Gods. This one had only been built when Eddard had married Catelyn and despite its size, Jeyne thought it had more charm than the Sept of Baelor. She'd always had a great distaste for exuberance displayed in wealth and King's Landing was a prime example of coin poisoning a religion.
She's met Septon Chayle once before when she had arrived, but had not gotten the chance to go too many times. Sparing him a kind smile she approached the altar of the Stranger and lit a candle for her father. Taking position on the bench, Jeyne fixated her thoughts on Jon Arryn, her father. Even after their years of separation, he in King's Landing and she in the Vale, he still knew her like a bard to a lyre. He knew Eddard was a good man that would protect her, that leaving her in the Vale would cause tension between her and Lysa, and that she did need to marry to secure her position and safety. The man he'd raised as a son in the Vale beside Robert Baratheon was the clear choice, seeing that Robert had already failed Jeyne once.
The choice is my own, but he always knew that I'd do my duty, Jeyne thought, glancing up at the wooden hewn statue of the Stranger. He hadn't even met Robb Stark. Not since he'd been beneath ten. Was he hoping that Robb would be like his father? Jeyne saw similarities between Eddard and Robb, but Eddard was more stoic, more difficult to read. Robb was… Robb was courteous, amusing, caring, perceptive, protective, responsible, humorous, a bit stoic at times like his father, and intelligent.
I miss you so much, I wish you were here, Jeyne thought feeling her eyes burn as she scrunched them shut. If you could just give me a sign. A sign that this right and you're watching. Please….
She waited, her eyes closed as she prayed to the Stranger, but there was no answer. With a low sigh, she stood up and decided to light a candle for the Maiden too. There was no dwelling on this spot as she knelt and stared curiously at the Maiden. When had been the last time since she prayed the Maiden? She couldn't even recall. The Warrior, the Smith, and the Crone had always been her primary three that she spent time devoting to. Jeyne had only thought to light one since she was being courted. Wasn't that was she was supposed to do? Hope that everything would go swell and the Maiden would be smiling on her?
Jeyne stayed there briefly, trying not to put too much thought as to overthink what was going on between her and Robb. She bid farewell to Septon Chayle and stepped outside. Surprisingly, the sky had cleared a bit and she had to shade her eyes from the bright sunlight that beat down over the top of Winterfell and baked the grey stones of the Great Hall and Great Keep which were nearby. A shrill whistle above her made her snap her head up, all too familiar with the cry of a falcon.
A grin spread across Jeyne's face as she watched one sail over Winterfell, letting out another cry. Father… she thought, glad that a sign had been sent. He was watching her.
"Lady Jeyne," Ser Andar's voice traveled across the yard. He was striding toward her, the first time she'd gotten to see him after a while. He'd been paying council to Eddard and had believed Winterfell safe for the most part. Jeyne had refused the knowledge of Steffon's attack to spread to him, knowing that Ser Andar would only blame himself for not being at her side.
"Nice to see you again, ser," she grinned, still elated from the falcon she had seen.
"I wasn't keen on catching whatever illness you had, my lady," Ser Andar jested before finally meeting her.
"It's fine," she dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. "More importantly, how are you faring sitting with Lord Eddard?"
"I can see much of your father in him. It's no wonder he wanted you to come here," Andar gave her the short version, but she could see the excitement on his face. Since leaving the Vale he'd not got to use his skills of commanding or knowledge of land navigation for much. Lord Eddard was clearly keeping him occupied. "Speaking of which, Lord Eddard has summoned a council in the Great Hall."
"Oh, then is this goodbye already?" Jeyne mused with a feigned frown.
"No, I came seeking you, my lady. Lord Eddard wishes you to be a part of said council."
"Really?" her brows furrowed, but she shrugged. "Very well…"
Joining Ser Andar, she followed him to the Great Hall. All of the spare tables had been removed, leaving a rather cavernous area open aside from a single round table by the enormous hearth which was roaring despite the decent weather outside. Her eyes slid along the faces, labeling them as she did; Vayon Poole, Jory Cassel, Rodrik Cassel, Hullen, Robb, and Lord Eddard. No Catelyn or any other women were present, only two chairs remaining, which meant they were reserved for her and Andar.
Ser Andar pulled her chair out for her and Jeyne was seated next to Ser Rodrik Cassel on her left and Andar to her right. Across the round table Lord Eddard was adjacent to his son and Vayon. Robb spared her a small glance, but there was no mischief or hint of their conversation earlier in the day. Rather, he was glancing among everyone. Jeyne could feel the tension heavy in the air as the hall was closed and they were left to discuss.
"Now that we've all have gathered, I'd like to begin the arrangement and news we've received," Lord Eddard entreated, beginning the council meeting. "As many of you are aware, the ironborn have become increasingly bold of the past month. Last we were discussing the pillaging on the south western shores of the region. Lord Flint of Flint's Finger had entreated me for men to try and stave off the attacks. Just yesterday we received a declaration from Euron Greyjoy that he was the King of the Iron Islands and had taken Flint's Finger."
"We sent five hundred men south to meet them," Rodrik reminded him, his whiskers twitching in despair from the news.
"Which wouldn't compare much to the full strength of the ironborn if they truly wanted to take a small castle," Ser Andar pointed out darkly. "And Euron Greyjoy is aware that his nephew is your ward, correct?"
"Euron Greyjoy has been away for some time. I'm not entirely certain when he returned or where Balon is, but Euron is leading these attacks. I doubt that Balon would allow his younger brother to deem himself king without having his own penny to put in," Rodrik replied evenly, now twisting his whiskers.
"I've summoned the western banners of the north," Lord Eddard declared, drawing glances around the tables. "Sending men south did not amount to much more than likely their untimely deaths. We're uncertain if the Flints of Flint's Finger are still alive and if they are, they need to be liberated. I intend on leading the host south to confront Euron. There is no king in Westeros aside from King Robert and this rebellion needs to be quelled before it spills out into the Westerlands or Riverlands."
He doesn't want to call on aid. Not from Robert after he declined the position as Hand, Jeyne realized.
"Has there been reports of the ironborn attacking either the Riverlands or Westerlands?" Jeyne inquired, speaking up for the first time.
"No, but the Westerlands are the closest to the Iron Islands, making it the obvious target. The Greyjoys are up to something," Vayon informed her stoutly.
Until they knew the true strength of what Euron Greyjoy had brought north with him, they had to prepare for the worst. Jeyne thought it would have been wise to summon all of the banners to be certain the ironborn were overwhelmed, especially since his eastern banners were the ones that possessed the most men.
"The plan thus far, until the other lords begin their arrival with their armies, is to march south to Flint's Finger to retake it," Eddard continued, affirmed with the nods of men around the table.
Jeyne thought this was a very straight approach. "If I recall correctly, the Blazewater Bay and Saltspear could also prove to be issues. Are the ironborn prone to staying in one place? Because it's very likely they'll put Flint's Finger to the torch and travel up river to take Moat Cailin or even risk Torrhen's Square if they become over confident. By the time the host were to be summoned, march south, and get to Flint's Finger their ships could have moved to either of the other holdfasts," she reasoned. Ships could move large sums of men much faster than they could march a host.
"They would have already put Flint's Finger to the torch if that's the case," Vayon suggested.
"And how do we know it hasn't been already?" Jeyne challenged.
Silence fell over the table, minds considering heavily what they should do. "Any castles in the direct vicinity of Flint's Finger accessed by bay or river needs to be considered at risk," Robb supported. "We need to split the host up, perhaps planting the Glovers at the aid of Torrhen Square. House Manderly could migrate some of their forces to bolster Moat Cailin. House Mormont should be informed to keep close eye on Deepwood Motte while the Glovers support the Tallharts. That would leave the eastern banners for us to utilize rather than the western. The Karstarks would come immediately at our aid, as would the Hornwoods. If we can stall the ironborn at these pivotal points, it would prevent another successful siege and give us time to march to wherever our aid is needed."
Feeding off of her own words, Robb's elaboration was better received than her disagreeing. "That would require calling more houses to arms than I would have preferred," Eddard started after clearing his throat. "But you both have brought up good points. Marching will take too long, especially around the Saltspear. Allocating the western houses would work…"
"I can send for men to come north from the Vale," Jeyne offered, drawing eyes. "I can't summon all of the power of the Vale, but I might be able to convince the Vale to part with House Royce."
"I can aid in delegating such an arrangement," Ser Andar quickly added.
"House Royce would be a powerful ally to add to our host, but I don't think it will be required," Eddard said.
"Euron Greyjoy is up to something more and I wouldn't put it past him to try to distract us with his siege at Flint's Finger," Jory muttered, siding with Jeyne.
She was thankful for the agreeing. "It would take House Royce a great deal of time to get here as it is. To rally their men and then march all the way here, but having mounted knights would be an asset. If we've already resolved the issue with the ironborn before they arrive, they can always be sent back to the Vale, but with delegating the bulk of your western forces to standing fast, they could be the reinforcements that we'll be vying for if the Greyjoys are planning an all out war," Jeyne implored.
Eddard nodded and sat back in his seat, his brows heavy and eyes brooding. She saw the same look on Robb from time to time, now she knew where he'd gotten it.
"There is only so much speculation we can make without a solid source over by Cape Kraken. Until the other houses arrive to sit council and we actually march south to see what is happening with our own eyes, no definite decisions can be made at this time aside from an outline of what our intentions are. We cannot take our entire host to Flint's Finger. That leaves too many open holes for the ironborn to slip down," Robb continued. "We have to expect that Euron is going to cause as much hell as possible. The ironborn have hundreds of longships. Longships that move faster than we can ride." Not to mention all the foot soldiers that would take even longer.
"Yes, I am aware," Eddard finally sat up. "As you stated, we have to wait until the rest of the banners arrive. I will send ravens to Karhold, Hornwood, and White Harbor as well. Keeping the Umbers and Bolton in place will assure that the eastern flank of the north remains solid."
Vayon, who had been recording some of the conversation that was going on, nodded slowly. "Then should we end the meeting here? We need additional input and to wait and see if anymore intel is received from Flint's Finger."
I doubt it. Euron sent the last letter, so he's controlling what information goes out. It'll remain dark until we're lured out there, Jeyne thought, smelling a trap. Flint's Finger was a distraction. What would be the bigger prize, Moat Cailin or Torrhen's Square?
"Yes, I wished to bring everyone up to speed on the situation and so that there would be time to dwell on strategies," Eddard rose first, followed by the rest of the table that stood at the behest of the Lord of Winterfell. "I will keep you all well informed regarding updates. The ironborn will not get away lightly for this stunt."
Everyone voiced their agreement before Eddard left, followed closely by Robb. Jeyne stood around the table with the men for a quiet moment, wondering why she had been invited. Clearly, Eddard had wanted her input on the situation, even if he had not seen eye to eye with her. Yet, if not for her connections to the Vale, then why? Had Robb put in word for her? The peculiarness of it all sat heavy on her shoulders as she left the Great Hall and was immediately ambushed by Lady Sansa.
Dear gods, this girl, Jeyne thought as she forced a smile, her mind still on the shadow of war that looming over them. Sansa stood in front of her brightly, unaware of the density of the conversation that had just taken place. Eddard may not have said it, but the words spoken in the council were not to be spread, shared, or touched upon where other ears could hear.
"Would you like to go for a walk? I've finished my lessons for the day and it's so wonderful out," Sansa suggested.
Jeyne preferred to have her walks alone, but she wasn't about to disappoint the pretty girl. "Certainly," Jeyne agreed, allowing Sansa to take her arm and tug her along eagerly.
"So," Sansa started sweetly, a tone of voice that set the atmosphere for the conversation. "My brother Robb is quite fond of you."
Jeyne had a snippy comeback for such an obvious observation, but she held her tongue. How did she approach this nicely? "Yes, he is rather good company."
"Has he… began courting you?" right for the kill, Sansa took a stab in the dark.
"A rather personal question, Lady Sansa," Jeyne mused, watching as the girl's face light up pink.
"Oh I didn't mean to pry, but I would just be so… ecstatic. I would love to have you as a sister one day."
Jeyne smiled at her wistfully. "A bit early to promise anything, but your family has been nothing but kind to me. Hopefully fate works in your favor."
"You're so lucky, Lady Jeyne. To decide who you wish to give your hand to," Sansa sighed, gazing up at the sky dreamily.
"I had to lose my father to be awarded such a 'gift'," Jeyne reminded her, but wondered if her fate would have been so different. What if her father had always intended this? Jeyne was just a pawn falling into her father's scheme without realizing. I'd willingly fall into that scheme if it does work out between us.
Sansa wasn't as remorseful over the comment as she had been hoping. "But to any man."
"Within reason. My father knew I would do the right thing," As High As Honor. She could not abandon all and marry some commoner because her father had awarded her her own hand. No, she needed to find a man of suitable or equal status.
"Robb is a good man. He would treat you fairly," Sansa said, returning to the topic of her brother.
"I know," Jeyne agreed with her on that. Robb was not in this for her name or what titles might come with it. He was from a family of equal prestige, but without all the gilding of the south. "It's more than just idle romance, Sansa. You must ask yourself many questions when considering a man to be your husband. Will he always treat you kindly? Will he always love you, despite your flaws? Will he accept you for how you are, good and bad? Will he be a good father? What are his ambitions and motives? And can you support them? For noble women like us, we don't always get positive answers for all those questions, as it is oft out of our hands. You are still not promised, but I implore you to think of such questions. I consider them everyday. Time is our worst enemy. Because while he might be fair in the beginning, months of years down the line that can switch."
Sansa chewed on the information she had just been dealt before eventually nodding. "And where does Robb fit in those questions?"
Jeyne laughed in spite of herself. "Robb's doing better than any suitors I've had before. Probably because he's not overbearing or too insistent. You might not believe it, but I'm not much of a romantic. I've already dealt with that in King's Landing and all those poems, flowers, and sweet words were nothing but ways to disguise a less than worthy man."
"You have a lot of experience with suitors. I wish I had more, but few comes to Winterfell. Not like King's Landing where lords from all over the south spend time there," Sansa seemed not to hear that Jeyne was not a romantic. Clearly, the girl was from the hazy way she fell into her daydreams.
"Trust me, you don't," Jeyne insisted. "They're like flies, always buzzing in your ear. No matter how much you swat them they keep returning."
Sansa was only listening to the parts of the conversation that interested her, not all of this hogwash that Jeyne was spewing about men not all being gallant and kind. She had to be prepared for the real world and Winterfell had certainly not prepared her to face it. The girl would have to listen to it repeatedly before she would start soaking it in. And to be honest, trying to convince Sansa was exhausting. On top of that, she couldn't get rid of Sansa. Not until Robb found them and Sansa perked up, giving Jeyne a knowing smile, before she pardoned herself and skirted away to leave the two 'lovebirds' together.
"You look exhausted," Robb observed.
"Yes, that happens when I repeat myself several times," Jeyne grumbled, straightening her back.
"And moody," he added lightly.
"Did you ask your father to put me on the council today?" Jeyne inquired, shifting the subject suddenly as they took a turn toward the Godswood.
"No, I was taken aback to see you there. I didn't know what the meeting was about, but my father has been including me more and more," Robb said honestly. "But he values the opinions of others and you made a good point. Taking all of our men in one group would not be wise. The ironborn can move more swiftly than we can on land as they on water. News of the host will travel down to them one way or another."
"Hm… yes…" she drawled before another thought dawned on her. "Theon."
"Doesn't know yet. However, he's to have grown suspicious. My father has started posting more guards around him," Robb replied.
"And how does that make you feel?"
"He was always a ward and I kept in the back of my mind that it was always possible that the ironborn would try and rise again. Seeing that the enemy is not his father, it may just be safer for him to stay here at Winterfell guarded. But, he is my friend and I do trust him."
"You shouldn't," Jeyne said immediately. "Even if you believe the years here have changed him, if you've always remembered he's a ward, Theon's been blatantly aware that he's a prisoner. The door to his cage might have been left open, but if given the chance to roam free, do you think he would take it?"
Robb let out a deep sigh, his face long and brows heavy over his eyes. "I'd like to think not, but Pyke is his home."
"People are fickle. You must always expect that they may do the opposite of what you hope," Jeyne didn't mean to put more dark thoughts in his head, but his close friend was related to the man that had sieged Flint's Finger. He needed to be objective and set his friendship aside until this all blew over.
"Should I think that of you too?" Robb's voice was deep and bitter.
"That depends. What is it you hope I do?" Jeyne knew this conversation could take a turn for the worse, but she stopped and faced him. So much was on both of their minds, but even though his attempt at nonchalance, she could see that the idea of Theon betraying him hurt. The godswood was dark, night nearly upon them as they paused among a thicket of trees.
Robb stared at her, through the dim light that remained and was fleeing. "I don't know," he mumbled turning his hand through his curls as he glanced away.
"I'll tell you what I won't do," Jeyne took a step forward and embraced Robb, her head just brushing beneath his chin. "I won't be leaving you anytime soon," she promised, her ear against his chest, his arms wrapping around her to envelope her in his warmth. Robb rested his chin on the top of her head and allowed himself to melt into her, standing in the still and peaceful forest.