Chapter 13

"And if the King listens to what I say, the King might just get his Uncle Jamie back," Tyrion commented.

"How," Cersei asked trying to sound unconcerned.

"You love your children," Tyrion noted, "it's your one redeeming quality. That and your cheekbones," he teased. "Starks love their children as well and we have two of them."

Cersei looked away before confessing, "one."

Tyrion shook his head. "One?"

"Arya, the little animal," Cersei smiled, "she disappeared."

"Disappeared," Tyrion repeated, "what? In a puff of smoke," he chuckled at seeing how uncomfortable his sister got. It was not like her to be this way.

"That girl," Cersei narrowed her eyes. "I don't know how she did it."

"Arya?"

"Nysa Snow," Cersei shouted as she stood from her seat.

Tyrion leaned back and drank from his cup. "Ah yes, her. I heard from father that she shot an arrow at Jamie," he chuckled and set his cup down. "And yet the both of you let her live. We're getting a bit slack aren't we," he laughed at her.

"Jamie wouldn't do it. I don't know why but he refused to," Cersei walked around the table angrily.

"And you?"

"There never was opportunity to..."

"Never an opportunity and yet she was able to help the little Arya Stark escape the City," Tyrion chuckled again before tilting his head. "I asked her to inform me of who her mother was when she found out. She is an interesting thing. I wish I would have been here to see what havoc she caused for my two eldest siblings."

"Baelish believes that she is Stark's daughter."

"Ned Stark is too honorable..."

"He has one already."

"One," Tyrion admitted, "and that one is a bright young man. Strong yet depressing at times. I hope he beds a woman soon," he shook his head.

"He's at the Wall and there are..."

"Vows, yes," he finished for her, "but we all know that not everyone follows through on their vows now, do we," he eyed his sister before taking another drink. "Is that all you discovered on the young Snow girl."

"Varys believes her to be Lady Ashara Dayne's daughter."

"A great beauty, I heard," Tyrion commented. Cersei walked back towards the chair and sat down slowly. "That's all that you have on her, isn't it? My sister - as conniving as you are..."

"Yes," she screeched. "That is all I have, all that anyone has been able to gather on her," she sat back in her chair. "She had been in my grasp for months and yet she never broke, not once."

"I have an inkling that she might be a Lannister," Tyrion remarked as Cersei snorted. "She outsmarted you and Jamie."

"Outsmarted the guards," Cersei stated with a far-off look. "She almost took Sansa out of the Capital as well." Cersei glanced at Tyrion before looking away.

"Yes," he drank the rest of his wine, "I do believe the girl's mother could be a Lannister. How else would she have been able to do the things she did? In truth, she did a better job at being a Lannister than you." Cersei shook her head. "We had three Starks to trade. You chopped one's head off and let another escape. Father would be furious. Must be hard for you?" His sister turned to him. "To be the disappointing child," he smiled as she felt the sense of failure overcome her.

She stood up and walked towards the window. "She had someone helping her."

"Are we still speaking of the bastard girl?" Cersei leaned against the window but turned to face her brother. "They say when one is guilty of a crime they like to use misdirection to place the blame or fault on others." She narrowed her eyes before looking away at the wall. "Am I being too much for you, sister? Should I leave?"

"You spoke with the girl?"

"Only in Winterfell," he answered.

"She had friends here."

"How could she have friends here," Tyrion questioned. "She grew up in the North, raised among Lord Stark's children," he scoffed. "The girl didn't know a bloody soul pass the Neck."

"Who is her mother," Cersei screeched throwing up her arms in an ungraceful manner. "Who is her House? They've been undermining us this whole time."

"No," Tyrion said in a firm tone, "this young woman has been undermining you. Why else do you think father has sent me here? You were too concerned with other matters that you forgot what is at stake. We need to focus on the larger scale of things, sister. We are losing a war. It is time for Joffrey to stop acting like a spoiled child."

Nysa rolled her eyes at seeing her brother and Alyn standing a distance away from her and Arya. They had just come back from relieving themselves. She assured her brother that they were never spotted - they did it in the early morning before everyone rose. But Jory still liked to keep watch to make sure it was only her and Arya out there.

"Where's Arya?"

"Who," Alyn titled his head at her.

She rolled her eyes then. "I meant Ari," she clarified. "Where is Ari?"

"You mean, you've lost her," Alyn teased as Nysa went to run around the camp grounds.

Nysa had almost grabbed her skirts - a natural impulse - when she remembered that she was donning a tunic, breeches and her hair was cut short. She had cried that day when they joined Yoren and his group heading North. She cried later that night. And despite her brother wanting to comfort her, he knew that it was best not to or she would appear weak. Arya on the other hand - seemed to be getting along just fine with her appearance.

Nysa had just reached the edge of camp when Cayn appeared by her side. "Ari went to fetch wood." She nodded and went to do the same.

As she walked back towards camp, she noticed Arya talking with that boy again. This was not the first time that Nysa had seen Arya speaking with Gendry. She didn't like it. But Jory and the others dismissed her, saying that it was nothing to worry about. The girl enjoyed talking to someone other than them. She remembered that there were a few boys who had given Arya a troublesome time when they first arrived. Gendry had come to her defense. Perhaps that could be a reason why.

She sighed and was about to turn away when she noticed a small band of horses riding on the road ahead. Nysa dropped the wood and ran towards Arya then.

"What," Arya questioned as Nysa grabbed her and tried to quiet her down.

"The gold-cloaks," Nysa nodded towards the front.

Arya gasped lightly and scurried after Nysa to hide under the bridge. Nysa took out her dagger from her boot and narrowed her eyes at the two men. "What are you two doing," Gendry asked.

"They're after us," Arya answered before Nysa could stop her. Gendry looked them over a bit before turning back to look at Yoren who began discussing matters with them.

"We have a warrant," one of the gold cloaks announced, "for one of these gutter rats you're transporting."

"Or perhaps they just want you," Arya turned to look at Nysa.

"I did shoot an arrow at Joffrey," she whispered in acknowledgement.

Gendry turned back at them.

"Please," Arya said softly to him.

Nysa looked up into his eyes and noticed there was both shock and caution hidden beneath them. He was wondering what they could be hiding but she didn't think too much on it when he nodded at Arya and looked away. Arya tapped her side - the sword attached to her belt and Nysa looked around to see where her brother was.

On the opposite end, some of the men were also watching Yoren and the guards. Jory took out his sword and nodded to Nysa.

"There are only two of them," Nysa whispered to Arya. "If there is any sign of trouble..."

"We could outrun them," Arya agreed, "or better yet, we could fight them off."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Nysa shook her head.

The other men began to move when the gold cloak attempted to pull out his sword. Yoren drew his dagger at the same time. "Funny thing," Yoren began. "People worry so much about their throats that they forget about what's down below. Now I sharpened this blade before breakfast, I could shave a spider's ass if I wanted to. Or," he moved the guard's cloak and Nysa tried to hide Arya's face from the scene. "Once it's nicked, there's no one else around here that knows how to un-nick it. We'll just keep that," Yoren reached for the sword and threw it somewhere.

Nysa turned back to see Cayn and Desmond slowly put away their swords. She put the dagger back into her boots and pulled herself back onto the bridge - urging Arya to stay put until it was all clear. Gendry came to stand tall at her side also.

"Go back to your City and tell your Masters, you didn't find what you were looking for," Yoren told them.

The one in the back seemed ready to ride but the other refused. He turned towards the men, his eyes searching around. "We're looking for a boy named Gendry," he announced as Nysa's eyes narrowed at the boy in front of her. He turned back to look at her. "He carries a bull's head helmet." Nysa looked down at Arya who was watching Gendry. "Anyone turning him over, will earn a King's reward. We'll be back with more men," he leaned down towards Yoren and uttered a threat that Nysa didn't catch.

Gendry looked down as Arya climbed out. Almost every man who was there turned to look at Gendry. Nysa stood there, wondering for a moment why they had been sent for him and not for her or Arya. Arya was Lord Stark's daughter, surely they'd want her to threaten Robb with obedience. And they'd want Nysa for murdering the Lannister guards and the attempt on Joffrey's life. But why in seven hells would they want Gendry - some low-born boy from King's Landing?

Yoren looked back at Nysa and Gendry before looking at the men. "Well, what are you all looking at, you sorry sons of whores," Yoren barked as everyone started to shuffle about.

Nysa quickly grabbed Arya and pulled her away from the boy who seemed more important to Joffrey than his assassin.

It must have been in the middle of the day when Nysa had lost Arya again. Jory reminded Nysa that she didn't need constant looking after or else someone would think something suspicious.

"What is suspicious is that Joffrey sent men to look for Gendry and not Arya or me," Nysa pondered.

"Thinking a bit high and mighty of ourselves, aren't we," teased Wyl as Nysa poured the water into the barrel.

"I'm just saying that..."

"Stop talking," Yoren came by her then. "You sound weird, boy!"

It was then that Nysa sighed and remembered that she was posing as a boy. She carried her buckets and left Jory and the others to their work as she went back down to the river. Half-way there she ended up slipping and dropping one of the buckets.

"Did you need help with that?" She looked up to see Gendry's hand.

"I can do it myself," she answered quickly hurrying down towards the river.

"I'm sure you can. But Yoren has been working us hard and perhaps..."

"Why don't you ask someone else," she turned on him.

Gendry looked taken aback for a moment before stalking past her. "If you let the bucket slip again, they may think you a girl," his head moved to peer over his shoulder at her, "which you aren't, right?"

Nysa took a deep breath before following him. Did he see her and Arya earlier this morning? She didn't want to make it seem as though he knew something so she continued down the path. Gendry got there before her and began talking to Lommy and Hot Pie. She looked at his backside and couldn't help but think that he was a decent looking young man. He was probably the same age as her, Robb and Jon. She tilted her head to the side wondering - for perhaps the hundredth time - why the gold cloaks were after him. What had he done that was so bad that Joffrey and Cersei wanted him? She watched him quietly as he sneered at Hot Pie - a large boy that had threatened Arya. He was younger than Nysa - she knew that much.

"How did you know he was a knight," Gendry asked, causing Nysa to look over at Hot Pie.

"Well, 'cause he's got armor on," Hot Pie answered slowly.

"You don't have to be a knight to have armor. Any idiot can buy armor."

"How would you know?"

"Because I sold armor," Gendry said to Hot Pie as he started to collect some water.

Arya was already there, smiling at Gendry. Nysa paused and hoped that it was at Gendry's statement and not Gendry himself. She'd had to keep a closer look on Arya as they traveled on their journey. She did not feel things for Torrhen until she was thirteen and she did not think much of Robb until she was fifteen. Arya was twelve. Gendry turned around then and reached for her bucket and began filling it the same that he did with his. She supposed that he was good-looking, his dark hair and blue eyes. Nysa moved on the side, out of Lommy and Hot Pie's way as they argued about battles and fighting.

"What do the gold cloaks want with you?" Nysa whipped her head around to see Arya had come to stand by them.

"No idea," he answered, giving Nysa her buckets.

"You're a liar."

She'd chastise Arya later.

"You shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you."

Arya rolled her eyes, "then I wouldn't get to insult anyone." She went to walk after Gendry. Nysa grabbed her arm. "What can't I do now?"

"We don't know why they're after him. What if he did something bad?"

"What could be worse than murdering my father," Arya asked as she pulled her arm free and followed Gendry.

Nysa sighed and turned the other way to drop off the water in her bucket. She continued working, trying to ignore the sight of Arya following Gendry, talking quietly with him about something. The second time she went back to the river and filled her bucket, she saw Gendry smiling at Arya before he bowed his head. What shocked her next was that Arya pushed him. Gendry began laughing and said something to her, causing Arya to push him down again. Gendry began to laugh as Nysa hurried up towards the two of them.

"What happened," Nysa asked Arya who began stomping away.

"Stupid bull," she retorted before continuing to walk away.

"What was that all about?" Nysa turned to Gendry to see him smiling and watching Arya walk away. "I asked you a question!"

"What are you," Gendry chuckled, "her sister?"

"I'm," Nysa began before pausing, "what did you just say?"

Gendry shook his head and began to stand up, dusting the dirt off before walking towards Nysa. He took the bucket from her hand and poured it into the barrel. "I know who she is and I'm guess my assumption about you being a girl is correct, too."

Before he could finish, Nysa was on him in a flash. Her brother's dagger in her hand, dangerously close to Gendry's throat. "If you so much as breath a word of..."

Gendry grabbed her hand, pushing it behind him in the dirt and pushing her off. Nysa was quick, and kicked out her leg, nudging Gendry back with her shoulder. After another maneuver of her body, using her legs and the ground, she was able to pin Gendry on his back again.

"My brother is captain of the guard, my Uncle is a knight - master at arms," she narrowed her eyes at him, "I was raised among guards, trained to use a sword and bow, don't think for one moment that you could best me. Now about her," Nysa gestured behind her.

"I'm not telling anyone who she is," he grunted before moving his leg to kick her off. She fell back gently, using her hands to brace herself before narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not, alright? I have no need to."

Nysa nodded slowly and put the dagger back into her boot. They sat quietly for a while before he stood up, brushed his hand against his breeches before holding it out for her. She eyed it for a bit before allowing him to pull her up.

"Lord Stark raised me among his own children," Nysa began. "It's like she's my sister," she answered his earlier question.

Gendry nodded and grabbed the buckets, preparing to walk back down to the river again. Nysa followed him slowly until he turned around. "By the way Ser Ilyn Payne," he smiled, "lost his hand after Lord Stark's execution." Nysa looked at him in confusion. "Apparently, someone in the crowd shot an arrow at him, landed in his wrist."

"I was aiming for his head," Nysa responded before looking away, "my brother came and pushed me down."

Gendry smiled. "I suppose you do know how to use a bow after all."

"What are you doing watching him?" Nysa turned her head sharply towards her brother. "Gendry," he nodded towards the young man, "you seem to watch him."

"Arya told him who she is," Nysa looked away, back to watching Gendry. "He said he wouldn't tell, even after I drew a dagger on him. He knew, he could tell that she and I weren't boys."

"You don't trust him," asked Alyn, without looking her way. His eyes were closed and he was laying with his back on the ground.

"I don't trust Arya," she answered as Alyn, Wyl and Desmond sat up from their positions to look at her. "She didn't have to give him that information so freely. And lately," she narrowed her eyes at Gendry, "lately they've been spending time together."

Jory chuckled and shook his head. "If you're speaking about what I think you are, the little Lady is still a bit young to fancy boys."

"And this is the Lady Arya we're talking of," Wyl shook his head before resting it back on his bundle of fur. "The Wall will melt before she ever fancied a boy."

"She misses her brothers," Porther added as he threw a stick into the fire. "She could very well just be filling the void."

"You're all here," Nysa interjected as Jory sighed.

He motioned for his sister to move closer to him. She got up and went to sit at his side. "I remember the day that the little Lady was born. You were in the room with Lady Catelyn, helping Maester Luwin and the other nurses. They said that you were the first one to carry her," Jory smiled gently at his sister. "They also said that Lady Catelyn was so proud of you, sister. You handled the situation better than she thought you would. It's the reason why you went to help Lady Karstark and Lady Glover when they were with child or even Lady Umber when she had trouble with her daughter. But no matter how many other daughters in the North are born, you always hold Lady Arya close to your heart."

Nysa nodded, "she was the first child I was present for when she was born."

"Nothing can replace that bond," Jory told her, "the same way nothing can replace the bond Arya has with her brothers. We may have been there to watch her grow, may have seen her with you in the yard, learning the bow. We may swear on our lives to protect her, to pledge our loyalty to House Stark," Jory looked back at Arya, "but only she can determine who she holds in high regard. Let her have this friendship with the young boy," he implored his sister. "She has lost much already; do you really want to deprive her of his company?"

She didn't like it but she listened to her brother. She allowed Arya to ride in the wagon next to Gendry, talk to him as they collected wood or water, and even lay her fur next to him for the night. Nysa threatened Gendry a second time when that happened, reminding him that Arya was a high-born Lady.

"Do you really think I'm stupid," he questioned turning to eye her out.

"No," Nysa shook her head.

Gendry stopped his task and leaned back casually against a tree. He crossed his hands one in front of the other and looked intently at her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Arya doesn't always follow the rules. She doesn't like dresses or sewing or anything proper. She might forget that," Nysa paused and played with her fingers, unsure of how to word her next sentence. "You use foul language around her," she blurted out.

"I apologized to her for that and I am trying to talk politely to her but she is difficult."

"That's how Arya is," Nysa closed her eyes before taking a few steps back. "I just," she groaned in frustration, unable to formulate her thoughts without coming across as rude or cruel. "Could you perhaps, be a bit cautious with how you treat her?"

"She isn't delicate," he shrugged.

"I know she isn't. Arya is tough as they come, she's from the North. But there are certain boundaries and..."

"I understand," Gendry pushed off the tree, "believe me, I understand."

"What does that mean?"

Gendry started working once again, not looking back at Nysa. Either way she found herself intrigued. She followed him towards the wagon to see him loading up their stuff for the next leg of their journey. "I didn't grow up in the same circumstances as Arry, neither did I have luxuries like you. I don't know who my father was. I barely even remember my Mum."

"You're a bastard," she whispered.

"Aye, I am," he turned to her looking a bit angry.

"So am I."

Gendry shook his head and put on a sarcastic smirk. "You really do think I'm stupid, don't you?"

"No!"

"You behave like a Lady - more than Arry does," he nodded towards her direction.

"I told you, Lord Stark raised me among his own."

"Now why would a Lord do such a thing unless you were one of his," he titled his head to the side.

She shook her head. "My father was a knight who died serving House Stark," Nysa answered. Gendry watched her for a moment before his eyes searched out her brother. "He is my father's true-born son, the only one that remains. My other brothers died during infancy."

"You don't share the same mother," he stated instead of questioning. The answer was obvious. And if Gendry might add, she looked nothing like her brother. Perhaps in their personalities there were some similarities. Other than that, her hair was darker, her eyes were fiercer and her skin was just slightly tanned. "You were never treated as a bastard, were you?"

"Not until I came to the South," she answered honestly.

He nodded thoughtfully before handing her a bucket. They continued to work quietly, it was best that way.

Gendry enjoyed Arry's company, despite how irritating she could get. And for some reason Gendry was being to enjoy Nysan's company too. He knew that wasn't their names but he continued to call them that. Someone would discover them and he did not want that discovery to come from him. He wouldn't let their names slip, not even once.

Robb patted the horse - envying it. Why on earth was he envying a beast? He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"Is something wrong with the horse, your Grace," Olyvar Frey came quickly to his side.

"No Olyvar," Robb smiled at him, "I just wish for a moment that I was this horse."

"Your Grace," Olyvar was confused.

"This horse is going back North, going back to Winterfell," Robb answered as Olyvar nodded.

Olyvar Frey was a year older than Robb. He was one of the many Frey soldiers that were there - part of his agreement with Lord Walder Frey to allow them to pass into the Riverlands without having to face the Lannister forces head on. Olyvar was a good fighter - compared to some of his brothers and cousins. Among them were many a Frey knights. Some of them had gone with Lord Bolton to meet Lord Tywin's forces - a tactical move that Robb was praised for among his newly acquired bannermen including not just House Frey but also many of the Riverlands who had come to him after his mother's Uncle, Ser Brynden had bend the knee, acknowledging him as not only King of the North but King of the Trident.

Robb sighed and thought about the rest of his agreement with Lord Walder - two Frey daughter for two Stark sons, one for Robb and the other for Bran or Rickon. He leaned his head against the horse's neck.

"Are you sure nothing is wrong with the horse?"

Robb smiled and pulled back, turning to see Ser Rodrik standing there. "It gets to go back home," Robb confessed as Ser Rodrik nodded for Olyvar to leave the two of them.

Ser Rodrik watched as his King - a boy of sixteen - showed a sign of weakness, a weakness that his men did not need to see.

"I told my brothers that I was bringing my father home, that I was bringing Sansa and Arya home," Robb said as Ser Rodrik stood there with his head lifted high. "I don't even know what has happened to your family, to Nysa or Jory. I don't know which of the guards are dead, which ones are alive, which ones are being tortured. My mother reminded me that Sansa's letter barely mentions Arya or Nysa or anyone else," Robb shook his head. "I don't know anything," he looked down, "I don't know!"

Ser Rodrik took a step forward. "I remember your father once in the same position you are in. His father and brother murdered by the Mad King," Ser Rodrik said, "his sister taken from him."

"A sister he never got back," Robb's voice cracked.

"He gained much though on his journey back," Ser Rodrik reminded him, "he brought back your mother and you. I lost a brother but his daughter came back with us," he added. "There is always uncertainty, there will always be things that we do not know or simply cannot understand."

Robb started when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Ser Rodrik standing there beside him.

"You will never know everything, your Grace. It's what you do when confronted with the unexpected that makes you who you are. And what you are doing now, believe me, is the best anyone can do in your position."

"I could have done better," Robb wiped his face angrily - frustrated that he was displaying such emotions. But Ser Rodrik didn't concern himself with that.

"Aye, we all could have," Ser Rodrik replied. "But there is no going back, no changing of the past. If I knew today that my brother would die when we left the North, would I have stopped him?" Ser Rodrik chuckled. "If I did that, who's to say that your father would have lived? We cannot dwell on something we wished we could have done differently. We might not like the change."

Robb swallowed and shook his head. "I would trade places with my father."

"And I with my brother, my nephew, my niece - if they are the ones who have fallen," he agreed, "but we are here and we are left to deal with everything else."

"I don't know if I can do it."

Ser Rodrik sighed and patted Robb on the back. "I know you can. You're a Stark."

"I'm not my father."

"No one is asking you to be."

"They look at me as though I am," Robb turned to him.

"They look at you because you are their King," he reminded Robb.

Robb nodded before waiting a moment. He looked up at Ser Rodrik. The knight saw the young boy he had trained for many years appear before him again. "My brothers..."

"I will guard them with my life, your Grace," Ser Rodrik confirmed. "I will speak of your father and mother to them, every day. You forget I have loss three wives and many daughters. I know the suffering of such grief." Robb nodded again and watched as Ser Rodrik mounted his horse. "You will return home, perhaps with a new family - a larger family. Do not worry about Winterfell, your Grace. I have protected it and the people within its walls for years."

"Safe journey, Ser Rodrik," Robb told him as Ser Rodrik pulled away.

With his mother having journeyed to treat with Renly and Ser Rodrik gone back to the North - Robb felt vulnerable once again. He walked slowly back towards his tent and was greeted with the sight of the Smalljon and a few others.

"I did not know I called for a meeting," Robb looked around at them.

"I called for it," the Smalljon smiled widely - perhaps joyful that he had come up with the suggestion.

"What is wrong," Robb asked, immediately thinking that they had received a raven from his sister, his mother or the North.

"Nothing yet," Lady Dacey answered. "But with your mother gone and Ser Rodrik back to the North to protect your brothers, Smalljon suggested that someone should protect you as well."

Robb snorted. "I know how to fight."

"I was not questioning your skill with the sword, your Grace," Smalljon defend himself. "But every King has his own personal guard."

Robb thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Like a Kingsguard," he asked.

"Not really," Smalljon shook his head, "I can't see myself taking vows of celibacy." He laughed along with the other men in the tent. Lady Dacey merely rolled her eyes.

"But you would perform the same sort of duties," Robb smiled as the Smalljon nodded. "Thank you for volunteering your services then."

"It would be an honor," Smalljon went to grab a cup of ale and began pouring others a cup.

"Lady Dacey," Robb nodded to her, "you have proved yourself a good fighter and a brave companion. Eddard and Torrhen," he nodded to the two of them, "we are kin, House Stark and Karstark. You are a loyal House. And Daryn," he looked towards the young Hornwood, "your father has marched with mine for years. I am glad to count all of you in my presence and have you as my personal guards."

"Aye," Smalljon cheered as they lifted their cups and drank their ale.

"We just need two more," Torrhen added.

"Two more," asked Lady Dacey.

"Aye," Daryn Hornwood replied, "there are seven who serve in the Kingsguard, supposedly to represent one from each of the seven Kingdoms."

Robb stood up immediately.

"Where are you going, your Grace," asked Eddard.

"I have been made King of the Trident," Robb answered as they walked around the camp. "It only fitting that I choose the remaining two from the Riverlands." Robb approached some of the Freys to find Olyvar standing beside one of his brothers. Other than Olyvar there was another Frey who had fought bravely. "Ser Perwyn," Robb nodded to him.

"Your Grace," Ser Perwyn bowed his head.

"I must object," Lady Dacey stopped Robb.

"There is only one reason why you object, my Lady," the Smalljon chuckled.

"He attempted to kiss Lady Dacey," Torrhen whispered behind Robb's back, informing Robb of the incident.

"Was it not welcomed," Robb turned to her.

"It was very welcomed," Smalljon added causing Dacey to punch him in the gut. She turned around quickly and marched off.

"I will speak to her later," Robb told them. "In the meantime, you must show respect to her Smalljon. Remember that Dacey is a Lady of House Mormont." He turned back to Frey knight to see that others had arrived. "Ser Perwyn, it has come to my attention that every King has a Kingsguard. Though, unlike the King who sits on the Iron throne, I will not forbid you from taking a wife or owning a land. If you wish to do so, then you may. But for the time being, I need men I can trust, men who are loyal, men who are brave, men who can advise me in my time of need. I have found a few," he smiled at the ones behind him. "And I find that I need more, like them," he turned back to Ser Perwyn, "like you."

Ser Perwyn looked around and saw the approvals of his brothers and cousins. He did not think that the King would have chosen him to serve as one of his personal guards, if anything he felt that they all would have come from the North. To be the first one selected who was from the Riverlands was considered an honor.

"Are there any words I need to recite," Ser Perwyn asked with a smile.

"We were just included without any but we'd say words if need be," Eddard Karstark answered.

Ser Perwyn drew out his sword and placed it on the ground, slowly kneeling. He would be the first to say this vow. "I am yours, my King," he nodded and looked up at Robb. "I vow to shield your back and give my life for yours. You will serve as my King, your wife as my Queen and I will protect those of your House and your blood," he added, thinking of the Kingsguard vow. "I will offer you council, keep your secrets and obey your commands. I swear it by the old gods and the new," he said as those around them began to cheer.

"And I vow," Robb stepped forward, "that as a royal guard for the North and the Trident, you will always have a place of honor at my home and at my table. I will respect your council, your strength and your loyalty. I will ask no service of you that will bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Rise, Ser Perwyn," Robb gestured with his hand, "and welcome to my Kingsguard."

"There's nothing out there," Jory asked as he came to stand beside Yoren.

"No," Yoren replied with a chuckle, "not even a wolf howling."

"It's because we're getting close to the Riverlands," Jory answered. "There are lions here."

Yoren turned to him and nodded in agreement before gesturing for Jory to follow him. He left a couple men - thieves he found in the dungeons - posted as watch. They didn't go too far away from the men but they were close to the abandoned barn his sister and the others were taking refuge in for the night. It was better than sleeping out in the open.

"I was told not to leave until later," Yoren said, lifting his wine jug to his mouth.

"By who," Jory questioned.

"Bald, plump man," Yoren described. "Said his name was Varys." Jory nodded in recognition. "Told me that Lord Stark would be taking up the black, part of his punishment to the crown."

"They promised him mercy," Jory looked away.

"I was to wait for him," Yoren added, gesturing for Jory to take a swig of wine also. "Then that piece of shit, King Joffrey changed his mind and well," he motioned with his hands, "here we be."

"Aye," Jory coughed a bit before handing the pouch back.

"The bald man came to see me again when I was leaving," Yoren started once more, "told me to go to a place in Flea Bottom, look for a boy name Gendry," he said catching Jory's attention, "take him to the Wall, anywhere but the Capital."

"Why," he narrowed his eyes at the watchmen.

"Didn't say," Yoren shook his head.

"You knew they would come for him?"

"Aye, but whatever it is, I know the boy is innocent. He's just an armorer's apprentice."

"Armorer," Jory lifted an eyebrow, remembering he and Lord Stark had gone out to one such armorer's shop. "Do you know the name?"

"No, I don't. Look, I know I shouldn't be asking this of you. You got your own concerns with getting that other one back but," Yoren paused and lowered his voice, "that boy don't belong at the Wall. We could use 'em for sure but there's a reason why they want him and I think he be safer with Lord Stark's boy."

Jory nodded. "You want me to take him with us?"

"I do. That plump Lord only wanted to keep him safe, even said Lord Stark knows who that boy is." Jory narrowed his eyes at that. "I can see that you don't know, to be honest," he laughed, "neither do I. But he is important to them, somehow. I knows you can keep him safe."

"Aye, we'll take him."

"Tywin Lannister is fleeing back South," Greatjon bellowed. "We should go on the offensive now."

"He's not going back to Casterly Rock," Robb commented.

"You mean to march on Casterly Rock," questioned Lord Karstark.

"I mean to purge the Riverlands of the Lannisters," Robb stood up and pushed the lion figures from the map. Almost every River Lord's home had been taken. "I did tell Joffrey that none of his men should ever to set foot in our lands again."

"But..."

"They've declared me, their King," Robb reminded his northern Lords before turning to look at those who had recently joined him. "I lifted the siege from Riverrun. I've captured Jamie Lannister. We are on our way to getting my sisters back, exacting vengeance on the Lannisters for beheading my father. All of that would not be possible without them."

"You are the grandson of Lord Hoster Tully," Lord Tytos Blackwood stepped forward. "And we respect your grandfather. It was you who came to our rescue, their rescue."

"It was your father," Ser Marq Piper added, "that denounced Gregor Clegane. You are simply following through on it," he nodded, making Robb seem at ease.

"That doesn't remove him or any Lannister forces out from what is mine. And Starks always protect those under their care," Robb nodded looking at the map. "You will all take your men back to your castles," he instructed, "eliminate any Lannister that stands against you. If they yield..."

"Your Grace," Lord Karyl Vance shook with anger, his father had just died as well.

"If they yield," Robb repeated, "you will take them as your prisoners, let me know who is captive and perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

"You mean to keep them prisoner as you do with Jamie Lannister," questioned Lord Jason Mallister.

"I mean to show Lord Tywin that he is to take me seriously," Robb looked up at his lords. "I want my sisters back; my father's remains and for them to get out of our lands. Those were my terms," he said slowly and firmly. "I want him to know what this young wolf can do."

Robb stood from a high position in the camp and watched as the banners of several River Lords departed. He smiled when he noticed that more than one of them - practically all of them - had a Stark banner flying among them as well. He did not think of anything beyond the North, never desired the iron chair. In fact, he merely had gone to the Riverlands because they accepted his mother. Now they had accepted him. He had been made their King of the Trident, after all.

"Your Grace?"

Robb turned and nodded, "Yes, Olyvar?"

"A raven brought this," Olyvar held out the letter, "your mother has reached the Stormlands."

"Thank you," Robb nodded, taking the letter and looking at it for a while. "There's still no word from Theon?" Olyvar shook his head. "He should have arrived there before my mother arrived in the Stormlands." He paused in thought and then looked up at Olyvar. "Do you think that I should have followed my Lord's advice and march on the Westerlands?"

Olyvar thought a moment and then nodded. "They are retreating. It does give the river Lords the best opportunity to regain their lands - you made a good decision there. And if the reports were true that it is Autumn now, well," Olyvar replied, "the Lords will want to prepare their homes and castles for Winter. It snows down here too, your Grace."

Robb chuckled. "You can call me Robb, Olyvar," he said before turning back to the tent, "at least when it is just the two of us."

They walked inside and Robb gestured for Olyvar to sit down at the table with him.

"I want to invade the Westerlands - the same as they came into the Riverlands. They won't know what to do, how to deter us. The river Lords are defending their home and castle, we'll be able to catch the Westerlands unprepared," Robb added, "call my guards in. I want to make out a strategy."

Ser Perwyn came in along with Torrhen, Eddard, Smalljon, Lady Dacey, Daryn and Patrek Mallister - the newest addition to Robb's personal guards. They all sat down at the table - Lady Dacey at the farthest seat possible from Ser Perwyn. Robb moved a few figures on the map towards the Westerlands.

"Your father was right," he looked at Smalljon, "we need to get to Casterly Rock. Tywin won't be going there but if we take his home, he wouldn't know what's coming."

"We'd have quite a way to go," Patrek commented.

"What is this," Eddard pointed to the map.

"That is Golden Tooth," Ser Perwyn commented. "If the Lannister army is retreating, they'll go there."

"Golden Tooth," Robb repeated, "House Lefford," he added looking to Ser Perwyn for confirmation. "I'll have another army cut through this way," he gestured to the northern part of the Westerlands.

"Banefort is up there, near the coast," Ser Perwyn mentioned.

"If Theon can get his father's ships then we'll be able to crush Banefort from the sea and the land," Robb noted.

"We move down to meet the other forces," Torrhen moved some figures around. "This seat right here," he pointed.

"The Crag," Robb nodded.

"We can swallow them up easily - especially if we get those ships," Torrhen suggested.

"After Golden Tooth," Ser Perwyn leaned over, "we could lead the primary force up to Ashemark."

"These are the castles closest to the Riverlands," Lady Dacey agreed, "we could also cut off their supply lines into the Riverlands. Not to mention that I heard a lot of their mines are near here," she pointed to a distance away from Golden Tooth.

"We'd take their gold right out from under them," Smalljon smiled widely.

"Let's do this," Robb ordered.