Chapter 2 The Kraken in the North

Robb Stark, the King in the North slowly walked into Winterfell's Great Hall.

Theon watched him closely. Robb was walking crookedly, as if the weight of his crown was holding him down. Snow was melting in his hair. In the hall, the Lords of the North were standing, Roose Bolton, Greatjon Umber, Lords Karstark and Flint and Manderly. There also stood the Southron Lords of the Trident, refugees whose lands were took by the Lannisters. Walder Frey and Jonos Bracken were captives of the Lannisters, but Brynden Tully was there, tall and solemn, as was Jason Mallister, old yet elegant and Edmure Tully, sullen and angry. They stood silent.

'My Lords. King Robb Stark!' Perwyn Frey announced in his squeaky voice.

'Stark, Stark, the King in the North! All hail, all hail!' Greatjon shouted.

'The King in the North!' the Lords cried. Robb, still silent, rose his hand in a thanking gesture. He climbed his throne slowly. Lady Catelyn stood at the foot of the hall, looking closely. An old woman, thought Theon, but there is more strength in her than half the Lords.

'My Lords. Moat Calin has fallen. Two Lannister Hosts have entered the North. I have commanded the Lords Barrowton and Dustin to give them battle.' The young king said.

Some already knew this news and chose to keep silent, but some failed to hold their tongues. 'Exactly how many men do the Lannisters have, Your Grace?' Edmure asked.

'Seven thousand heavy horse.' The Blackfish answered for him.

'We can never hope to give seven thousand horse battle with Barrowton's ten thousand infantry.'

'His Grace has faced worse odds and won,' objected the Greatjon.

A gust of cold wind leaked into the hall through a gap in the gates. A few torches flickered and failed. 'Lord Edmure,' Roose Bolton at Theon's side commented softly. 'What a clown.'

Bolton was a fine friend who dared to speak his mind, Theon found. Although slightly intimidating Theon found conversation with Bolton amusing. 'He's a vain man. They're all vain men.'

'But at the very least he dares to speak his mind,' said Bolton. 'All these Lords are clear there is no way His Grace can win this war. Not in the field.'

'Not in the field, at least. Our only hope is to fall back to our strongholds.'

'That, or surrender. You should try to talk that into His Grace,' agreed Bolton. 'You are his closest companion.'

'I have done what I can, Robb wouldn't listen,' Theon sighed. 'Operation Brandon wounded his pride, he will never retreat again.'

'Then talk to Lord Brynden then. He is His Grace's hand, after all, the only Riverlord who has some influence to him.'

'The Blackfish has tried and failed. Robb is a good commander but a boy still.'

'Then talk to Queen Roslin then,' Bolton urged, 'after all, you are betrothed to her half-sister fair Walda, and you… do boast of having carnal knowledge of her.'

Theon grinned at the memory. That was one of his finer moments. He had known a hundred women but never a queen. He knew the penalty for bedding a queen was death but somehow the treason only made their love more exiting. 'Are you mad? Roslin?'

'Queen Roslin is your sister by marriage. Talk to her. Maybe she can persuade his Grace out of this madness.' Bolton was talking out of the corner of his mouth, watching Edmure debate with Robb.

Theon sighed. 'I will do what I can then.'

After an hour or so the sun had set low, as had the patience of many Lords. Robb finally gave them leave to leave. 'Theon, Lord Bolton,' Robb said, after descending down his throne and giving his crown to his squire Olyvar Frey, 'I hope you are free for the night to sup with me.'

'Most certainly, Your Grace,' Lord Bolton bowed to Robb.

'I could not miss it,' said Theon. Robb tried to smile and failed.

'We'll talk about horses and dogs and women over meat and mead. Just like old times.' Robb gave Theon a quivery little grin and leaved.

He knows the war is lost, thought Theon, he is just too proud to admit.

Nighttime found him with a cup of sour wine in his hand honing his sword. Sharpening his weapons regularly was a proud habit of his, and the sound of stone on steel was comforting in these troubled times. When Olyvar Frey came to summon him to sup with the king, he donned a handsome black doublet embroidered with a golden kraken and proceeded to join the king.

Lord Bolton was already present, as was the Lady Catelyn and Ser Brynden. Robb sat at the head of the table, at his left Queen Roslin. Theon bowed.

'Ah, Theon.' Robb looked at him. 'The best guest always comes the last.'

Theon smiled and claimed an empty seat, between Lord Bolton and Queen Roslin. Roslin blushed. Theon's smile grew wider despite himself. Robb commanded the servants to set the first course.

The supper was simple yet filling. There was buttered beets and mashed neeps, juicy lamb and a blood pie, all washed down with thick ale. Lady Catelyn scarce ate any, Theon noticed, neither did Queen Roslin. Robb just prodded a few shreds of beet across his plate for the entire meal.

Bolton gave Theon a hard look through his pale eyes. Theon understood the hint, realizing this was a good moment to persuade Robb to abandon his plans of battle. 'Robb,' Theon suddenly said, 'are you still intent of giving the Lannisters battle?'

Robb gave him a puzzled look. 'Of course I am. Are you suggesting that I let the Lannisters plunder freely through the North, like they did in the Riverlands, whilst we hide behind tall stone walls?'

'But Your Grace, the Lannisters have a long supply line and backups from the South. We lack both supplies and men to gain the upper hand in a battle.'

'We have your father's partial support, and the men of the Trident.'

'But Lord Barrowton and Lord Dustin do not have the capability to defeat the Kingslayer in battle. I beseech you, Your Grace, command them to fall back to their strongholds.' Theon turned to Roslin. 'Don't you agree, good-sister Roslin?'

Roslin blushed prettily. 'Me? I… I have no experience in the ways of war, My Lord.'

Lord Bolton interrupted brusquely. 'Your Grace,' said Lord Bolton, 'I have no doubt the Lords Barrowton and Dustin are fierce fighters and wise commanders, but the Lannisters number too many and are better equipped, and more are coming. We cannot risk half our host for a lost cause. I suggest, in this situation defensive positions might be best. Don't you agree, Ser Brynden?'

The Blackfish seemed a bit surprised to be called by Roose Bolton. 'Aye, I agree,' said he. 'Even the fiercest of your ancestors retreated behind castle walls in times of difficulty, Your Grace.'

Robb looked abashed to see he own uncle was against him. 'Retreat.' The king snorted. 'I retreated under the walls of Highgarden when Operation Brandon failed. I retreated from Duskendale when Randyll Tarly descended upon my columns with his knights. I retreated from the Trident when Lord Tywin attacked Riverrun with his host. I will not retreat again.'

'If you will not retreat, Your Grace, mayhaps words will prove to be more effective then swords,' said the Lady Catelyn. 'Negotiate with the Lannisters. Broker a peace, set down your crown and sword. Enough blood has been shed, we have reduced the Westerlands and the northern Reach to smoking wastelands, and the Lannisters have done the same with the Trident.'

Theon could tell how much it pained Lady Catelyn Tully Stark to urge her son to bend the knee to her husband's killers, and he admired her courage. She would make a fine ironborn, thought he.

'Negotiation. I've had enough of negotiation. When I die you can have plenty of negotiation.' After that rude remark, Robb left the table without excusing himself, Roslin hurrying after him. The Blackfish escorted Catelyn back to her chambers.

Bolton told Theon to follow him. Together they went down the staircase to the stables, where four Bolton men-at-arms were waiting with ten saddled horses.

'What are you preparing to do?' demanded Theon.

'I'm afraid Robb Stark has lost all means of sanity,' said Lord Bolton. 'I need to grasp the situation in my hands now. If we give the Lannisters open battle the entire North will be destroyed, and I cannot allow that to happen. I have always favored a peaceful land.'

'What are you planning?'

'I will be departing for White Harbor under a false name and find passage to King's Landing to offer terms of surrender. Not with that Boy King, with Lord Tywin Lannister. Lannister is no fool. He knows the North can only be ruled by a Northern House. He will need House Bolton to maintain the King's Peace in the North after the war.'

'Be careful,' said Theon, 'what you are suggesting is high treason.'

'Ah, Greyjoy,' said Bolton, pulling on his gloves and climbing his saddle, 'I have more urgent matters to consider. Such as when I meet Lord Tywin, do I bow or kneel?'

Bolton gave a little twist of his thin lips, maybe it was a smile. Theon could not find the strength to give one back. 'The Gods bless you,' he managed.'

At this moment, the stable doors opened and a figure strided in. It was Ser Brynden Tully. 'Lord Bolton,' said the Blackfish, 'I have been looking for you. You are departing?'

'Yes. I am heading South to inspect the defenses on the Kingsroad,' Bolton lied without even blinking. 'My bastard son Ramsay will be joining me with his men.'

'I was hoping to talk to you. This plan of his Grace, to command Lord Dustin and Lord Barrowton to give them battle… absolute madness, I tell you. I was hoping…'

'I fear our talk must needs wait. I need to depart now. You are always welcome to come talk with me at the Dreadfort.' Lord Bolton drove his horse out of the stable, his escort following. One of them barked a brusque command and the portcullis of Winterfell rumbled open.

Lord Bolton and his men disappeared behind a screen of snow.