Stone Hedge reminded Robb of home; a sprawling castle made of grey stone. It wasn't as big as Winterfell, but it was certainly larger than the canvas pavilion he'd grown accustomed to. The thick, stone walls and the privacy they afforded were a comfort. Too often, Robb had felt as though the wind carried his every word throughout the camp. It was part of the reason he'd waited until then to have this conversation.
Robb sat across from Jon. The room used to hold the war councils seemed as though it hadn't been used in years. A fine dust covered the higher surfaces, and old tapestries lay folded in a corner. Tall windows let in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the dust in the air.
"Alyn," Jon shouted. A scrawny boy stumbled into the room, wide eyed and tripping over his own feet.
"Yes, Your Grace?" Alyn Blackwood was no older than Bran, long-limbed and scrawny, with a mop of black hair. When Robb announced Jon as his hand and proclaimed him a Prince of Winterfell, Lord Blackwood had been the first to offer one of his sons as a squire.
Jon sighed. "Go find Theon and tell him Robb wishes to speak with him." Alyn began to sprint off when Jon called after him. "And Alyn, just Jon, is fine."
Alyn ran off with a hurried, "yes, your grace." Jon scowled at Robb, who grinned at him in amusement. "You could have named me Hand without naming me a Prince," he quipped.
Robb smiled. "You're my brother, which makes you a Prince," he insisted. Robb didn't mention that by rights, he was a King. "And don't pretend you don't like being called a Prince. Prince Jon of Winterfell," Robb japed.
Jon gave a reluctant smile. "Aye, I suppose it has a nice sound to it."
"And then there's the larger chamber, your own squire, lords offering their daughter's hands in marriage," Jon groaned and Robb laughed again.
"It's only been the two, and I turned them both down," he grumbled. Robb was grateful his marriage had been arranged long ago. After Lord Blackwood offered his son as Jon's squire, not to be outdone, Lord Bracken had offered Jon his choice of his unwed daughters. After Lord Bracken, Ser Ryman offered his only granddaughter's hand. She's hardly Bran's age, far too young.
Robb shook his head and took a sip of his ale to hide his smirk. Jon tapped his knuckles on the wooden table, scanning his eyes across the large map spread out across it. Jon changed the subject. "Are you sure it's a good idea? To send Theon alone?"
Robb set the mug down. "He wouldn't be going alone. He'll take two other men with him," Robb explained. "Any more would draw too much notice."
Jon sighed. "I still don't like it."
Robb furrowed his brow. They'd been over the plan thrice over, if one could even call it a plan. It hadn't made either of them less nervous. "I don't like it either," Robb admitted. "But I can't leave Sansa there. Only the gods know how long it will be until we take the city." Robb didn't like the idea of sending Theon into a pit of vipers, but there was no way around it. He couldn't march to King's Landing himself, not now anyway. And he wouldn't let Sansa remain a prisoner until he could. Not if the rumours out of the Red Keep were even half true.
Jon studied him. "And you trust him?"
"Theon's like a brother to me. He could have stolen out of camp at any time, yet he hasn't." Robb had to trust him. He didn't have any other choice.
It was Alysanne's idea to send Theon to King's Landing and into the Red Keep. Theon had been ill-tempered ever since Robb refused his plan to treat with his father. "He thinks you don't trust him," Alysanne had said. Robb had thought that ridiculous. Of course he trusted Theon, how could he think otherwise? It wasn't because he mistrusted Theon that he didn't allow him to go to the Iron Islands. He had other things he needed Theon for, was all.
Besides, Robb had brought him south. He would have been entirely in his rights to leave Theon in Winterfell. When Robb said as much to Alysanne, she'd reminded him that Theon was brought to Winterfell as a hostage. "What is he to think, if you refuse to let him out of your sight," she'd told him. "You only need to show him you trust him. Make him feel valued."
Robb supposed he had forgotten why Theon came to Winterfell in the first place. To ensure Balon Greyjoy's continued loyalty, that's why. What would have happened had Balon risen in rebellion once more? Robb pictured his father standing over Theon, with Ice held high in the air. He shuddered. It made him ill to think of. Would father have done it? Would his father have taken Theon's head, as he promised King Robert? Robb thought that perhaps some questions were better left unanswered.
Alyn swung open the door. "I brought Theon, Your Grace." Theon strided in, Grey Wind and Ghost shoving in beside him. Alyn eyed the direwolves warily. He'll grow used to them. Olyvar had, and he wasn't half as bold as Alyn. The direwolves settled at their feet.
Theon mussed Alyn's hair and flung himself into the nearest chair. "My Lord Hand," Theon mocked. Jon swore under his breath. Theon looked around at the empty chairs. "Where is everyone else?" he asked.
"I wanted to speak to you before the council meeting. A private matter," Robb explained. "There's something I need you to do."
Theon shook his hair out of his eyes, looking much like Rickon's wolf Shaggydog as he did so. "You're sending me to treat with my father? You've finally come to your senses, then."
"He's not sending you to the Iron Islands," Jon huffed.
Theon opened his mouth to argue. Robb interjected before he could start. "I'm sending you to King's Landing."
Theon stared at him, mouth agape. "King's Landing? What for?"
Robb met Jon's eyes. He nodded, and Robb turned back to Theon. "For Sansa." Theon closed his mouth, sitting straighter in his chair. "The rumours…" Robb clenched his jaw, then took a breath to calm himself. It hadn't taken long for whispers to bleed out of the Red Keep. Members of Joffrey's court had loose tongues, as did his servants. Word had traveled out of King's Landing and up the Kingsroad, where it weaved its way through his camp and to Wylla. Wylla had brought the rumours straight to him and Alys. "If even half the rumours out of King's Landing are true, Sansa cannot wait for us to take the city."
Theon scowled. "I've heard the rumours," he snarled. Robb didn't doubt he had. By now, word would have reached most of the men. "I should Joffrey's head as well, for what he's done to her."
"You wouldn't get out of the Red Keep alive," Jon pointed out.
Theon glowered at Jon. "I know that. Do you think I'm stupid?"
Robb glared at both of them. For all they argued, Robb would think they hated each other if he didn't know better. He addressed Theon again. "I can't send you with more than one or two men."
Theon eyed the map and nodded. "Any more and it would be too obvious."
Theon's mouth moved silently as he leaned over the map. Theon was as much a brother to him as Jon, Bran, and Rickon. They'd grown up together. He may not come back. "This is a risk, Theon," he said. "There is a chance…" Robb couldn't continue his sentence. He didn't want to say it.
Theon nodded slowly. "We can't leave her there. I won't leave her there. I'll make sure she gets out, Robb. Even if I don't."
"I think we would prefer you both returned," Jon said.
Theon pulled his eyes from the map. "Let me take Bran. He knows the Red Keep better than any of us. You've heard him talk about it."
Robb didn't hesitate to say no. "I need him here. And if it all goes wrong, he'll be stuck there as well. The Lannisters would have two hostages instead of one." It went unsaid, what would become of Theon. Robb tapped a finger on the table as he thought. Jory traveled with Jeyne, Bran, and Arya. "Jory led them out of the city. See if he won't go with you."
A swift knock on the door rang through the room before the door opened. Alysanne swept in without waiting for a reply, Ser Addam following at her heel. Robb stood to greet her, pulling out the chair next to him. He smiled. Robb hadn't seen her hardly at all that day. He didn't see her most days; it felt like. It was always at night they truly had time to speak.
Her skirts whirled around her feet. She wore a high-necked green dress that day, her hair pulled back in a braid. She looks quite lovely. He told her as much, to the amusement of Theon and Jon. His responding scowl only encouraged them.
She kissed his cheek, laughter dancing on her lips. "You've told Theon the plan?" She sat in the chair next to him and scratched behind Grey Wind's ears.
"They have," Theon answered.
"And?" she asked expectantly.
The teasing smile fell from Theon's face. He grew serious, a rare sight on Theon. "I'll bring her home, Alys. You have my word."
Alysanne reached across the table and grasped his hand in thanks. She pulled her hand back and appraised the three of them. "The lords are on their way," she told them. Robb readied himself.
He sometimes wondered how his father managed to lead an entire rebellion. In truth, his father had been little older than he was. Yet Robb had never pictured his father so young in the stories. In Robb's mind, his father had been just as he was when he told the story. He wondered if Lord Bolton had given his father the same suspicion he gave Robb, or if Lord Karstark questioned his every move.
Lord Blackwood filed in, with Lord Bracken close behind. Then came Lord Stevron and his son Ser Ryman, with Ser Ryman's son Black Walder. After them came Lord Karstark and Manderly, the Greatjon and Lord Bolton, his Uncle Blackfish, Lady Mormont, along with other River Lords and Northmen. The room they met in was not overly large to begin with, and felt smaller still with all the lords present.
The smaller room only made the lords seem louder as well. At least in the pavilion the loud voices hadn't echoed. It was never long before they began to talk over one another. Squabbling children, his mother had once joked. The Westerlands, Lord Tywin, Jaime Lannister, they were always quick to launch into the matters they each thought most important. Robb stood, and the lords quieted. "We'll start with Renly and Stannis," he decided. "There's no word from my mother about Renly. What of Stannis?"
"If he's moving at all, it must be further south," Lord Blackwood said. "Towards Renly or King's Landing. The last I heard, he was on Dragonstone. He hasn't moved North."
Robb hoped it wasn't towards Renly. His mother, unless she had already spoken to him, would still be in his camps. Stannis is not Joffrey, he reassured himself. His father had always spoken of Stannis with respect.
Alysanne caught his eye, a questioning look on her face. He nodded, and she cleared her throat. "I want to send another raven to Dorne," Lord Karstark scoffed, and she stopped speaking. Other lords muttered amongst themselves. She set her jaw, this time speaking louder. "We need Dorne," she pointed south of King's Landing. "If we ally with Dorne, they can attack the Lannisters from the South. They'll be forced to divide their men."
Lord Karstark looked at her in derision. "We don't need Dorne's men, Your Grace. We have more than enough to send that bastard king to the seven hells." Several of the lords banged their fists on the table. Robb quieted them with a raise of his hand and a sharp glare. Even now, after countless war councils, they still think to interrupt her?
"Forgive me, my lord," Alysanne retorted. "I am only a girl, and unlearned in matters of war, but if Dorne allies with Stannis or Renly, could they not defeat Joffrey? And would they then not outnumber us?"
It was Lord Bolton who answered, and Robb almost had to strain to hear him. "Her Grace is not incorrect," he addressed Robb. "But if I am not mistaken, King Robb has sent two ravens to Dorne already. Both have gone unanswered."
"Then we should send another," insisted Alysanne. Her plan has merit. But Lord Bolton was right.
They had already sent two ravens to Dorne, one when they first arrived at Riverrun, and another just before they departed. There had been no sign of reply. Old wounds. Robb suspected that perhaps Dorne still held a grudge from the rebellion. "If Dorne wished to join the war, they would have responded by now. A lack of response is an answer of its own," he said.
Alysanne's mouth twisted. Perhaps they have replied, and Edmure has just not sent word. He didn't enjoy disagreeing with her.
Robb found his Uncle Brynden amongst the lords and gestured to him. "Have your scouts returned?"
Ser Brynden shouldered his way to the edge of the table. "Aye, they have. With news of Lord Tywin." Excitement swept through the lords. The Blackfish spoke over them while pointing at the map, just south of them. "Our scouts last placed Lord Tywin here," he gestured just south of Acorn Hall. "At the rate he marches, he'll reach us at Stone Hedge within the week. Ser Kevan didn't march from the Stoney Sept with him. He marched East, to secure Antlers." He picked up a lone lion's head marker and placed it over Antlers.
Ser Ryman pointed a fleshy finger at Harrenhal. "We should march now. Take Harrenhal before he has the chance." His words slurred, and Robb suspected he was drunk once again. An all too common occurrence. Robb would be more than willing to exclude him from the war councils, if it weren't for his father Ser Stevron.
"We would never reach Harrenhal before him," Ser Brynden said. "He's closer to us than he is to Harrenhal, anyhow. He'll try to take Raventree Hall."
"Not if he didn't know where we were marching," Ser Ryman implored. "You can't just let him take Harrenhal."
"He has scouts, the same as we do." The lords turned their attention to Jon as he spoke. Robb noticed the way he shifted and rubbed at the back of his neck. He may like the title, but he does not like the scrutiny. Robb wasn't sure he was entirely used to it, either. "Your best bet would be to meet him in the field. Force him into an engagement, instead of waiting for him."
The lords nodded with mumbled agreements. Robb studied the maps and the markers before him. If Lord Tywin was marching as fast towards them as his Uncle Brynden believed, they would not make it far before they met him. Robb pointed at Raventree Hall. "We'll await him just south of Raventree Hall," he decided. "We'll force him back and march onwards to Harrenhal."
"If you do manage to force him back, he could still get word to Antlers. Then you would face Lord Tywin on one side, and Ser Kevan on the other," Lord Bolton said softly. "Allow me to march a host east and take Antlers."
"I say let the others take Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan," the Greatjon rumbled. "He'll have thrice as many men waiting in the Westerlands with Stafford Lannister. As long as the west remains unmolested, Lord Tywin gets men and supplies."
"He won't have thrice as many, Lord Umber," Lord Stevron corrected. "Perhaps not even twice. And King Robb commanded Lord Edmure to attack his supply lines. I don't believe the Westerlands should take precedence over Lord Tywin, Your Grace."
"You're correct, Lord Stevron. I tasked my Uncle Edmure with attacking his supply and communication lines," Robb said. That alone should be enough to have Stafford Lannister on edge. But the Greatjon was not entirely wrong. If they could cut off more of his supply and communication lines, it would force more of the Lannister armies west. Away from Antlers, Duskendale, and King's Landing. It would force them to meet us.
He thought of the men he'd left behind in Riverrun with his Uncle Edmure. What remained of Jaime Lannister's men had fled following his capture. They'll have joined with Tywin by now. Even so, part of Tywin's army was in Antlers, and the rest at Casterly Rock with Ser Stafford. I'll have more than enough men to take Tywin. He eyed Alysanne sitting next to him. An idea took shape.
I promised her an equal rule. It was the same night the northerners crowned him King. They'd sat up late, wrapped in furs, whispering till the early hours like children. Neither of them slept much that night. Robb wasn't sure that he could've slept if he wanted to. How does one sleep after being named King by all his bannermen? He'd never wanted to be king, never asked for it. But they chose me all the same. And with him came Alysanne.
He would not rule without her by his side. That had always been his plan, from the very start. Robb would rule Winterfell with Alysanne. Nothing had changed. Except now it's not just the North. It's the North and the Riverlands. She hadn't asked him to promise, but he had anyway. She knew more about politics than him, even if it was only what her grandfather had managed to teach her. It was more than he knew, and he'd be a fool to not listen. Even if he couldn't name her co-regent, he could still allow her power, give Alys her own responsibilities.
Robb knew nothing of the Westerlands. But Alysanne did. It was the reason she came south with him. Perhaps she hadn't grown up there, but she knew its history, the bannermen. It was more than Robb knew. And with her came Ser Addam. Ser Addam, who grew up at Casterly Rock as a page and then squire to Lord Tywin. Robb had heard his stories from the siege of Duskendale, and from the sack of King's Landing. He may have only been a squire for the first, and the sack of King's Landing was hardly a battle, but he'd learned strategy from Lord Tywin himself.
Robb stood. "Alysanne will lead a contingent of men west, to attack the Westerlands," mutters broke out around the table. Alysanne stared at him with wide eyes. She shook her head slightly. "Robb," she whispered, shaking her head. He turned back to the Lords in front of him. "Uncle Brynden, you'll lead the rivermen," He couldn't send her alone. She may know more of politics, but he knew more of war and strategy. His Uncle Brynden more so. His great uncle nodded his ascent. Robb gestured to Jon. "And as my Hand, Prince Jon will lead the northmen."
Jon opened his mouth and closed it before nodding. Lord Bolton's face pinched, as did some of the other lords. He suspected they were not pleased that Robb had picked Jon as his Hand in the first place. Perhaps he could have picked one of them to serve as his hand. He didn't doubt they would have served him well. The Greatjon had been his staunchest supporter ever since Grey Wind took his fingers, and Lords Bolton and Karstark had been his father's loyal bannermen for years. But Jon was Jon, his brother. Which of his bannermen did he trust more than Jon? Who could he trust to lead half of his army west more than Jon, his uncle, and Alys?
"After we push Lord Tywin back, Lord Bolton will take a host of men to Ser Kevan." Lord Bolton eyed him, but agreed all the same.
This time it was Lord Karstark who voiced objection. "And what if we don't force him back?" Lord Karstark said roughly. "What of Jaime Lannister? We're dangling his son right in front of him. If he routes us, he gets his son back. And I want his head."
If Lord Tywin beats me in the field, he gets Jaime back. Then where would they be? Robb suspected the only reason Joffrey hadn't taken Sansa's head was because he now held Jaime, as well as Willem and Tion. Cleos, he had sent to King's Landing days ago with peace terms. The wall will melt before Joffrey agrees. But he sent them all the same.
Lord Karstark stared at him, full of anger. His son Harrion at his back. They want vengeance for Eddard Karstark. Robb needed to keep Jaime Lannister far out of Lord Tywin's reach. And Karstarks. "Prince Jon will take him to Riverrun. Along with Willem and Tion."
"You're too soft, boy," Lord Karstark sneered. "You send your Lannister wife west, her father with her. She'll free him."
Alysanne paled beside him. Anger roiled in his belly, Grey Wind snarled behind him. His Uncle Brynden sprung to his feet. "You will address the King as Your Grace, Lord Karstark."
Robb laid a hand atop Grey Wind, who'd lumbered to his feet to loom over his shoulder. The Greatjon rubbed at his shortened knuckles, watching the exchange with rapt attention. "You forget, Lord Karstark, that Queen Alysanne was raised in the North, by my own parents. She is a Stark by marriage."
Lord Karstark met his eyes, then Ser Brynden's. "Jaime Lannister killed my son. I will not allow him to be set free by a-" The Greatjon interrupted. "It is not for you to allow! If the King-"
Alysanne raised a hand, and the Greatjon quieted. She nodded in thanks to him, and he bowed his head deferentially. "Lord Karstark, if you so fear me setting my own father free, despite Prince Jon's presence, as well as Ser Brynden's, then perhaps you might send one of your sons along. Would that be agreeable?"
Lord Karstark whispered furiously to his son, who stood behind him. He does not deserve her concessions. Robb faced her and opened his mouth, but she lay a hand on his arm. Later, her eyes said.
Lord Karstark returned his attention to them. "My son Harrion, along with some of our men, will join your host."
"Pah!" the Greatjon waved a hand. "Your Grace," he addressed Robb. "I request that you allow my own son to join as well. To ensure that Lord Karstark does not take justice into his own hands."
Robb rubbed at his brow. What he wouldn't give to have one war council without an argument. "Very well." Lord Karstark grunted, and Robb hurried to change the subject. "Lord Blackwood. These are your lands, we'll meet Lord Tywin in. You know them best. What do you think?"
It was late when the council finally finished. The sun had long set, and the moon hung high in the sky. Robb wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed, but his day was not done. He walked out of the keep with Jon, with only Grey Wind and Ghost at their sides.
Jory and Theon waited at the far edge of the camps surrounding Stone Hedge. Robb hadn't expected Theon to leave so soon. He thought he'd wait a day or two at least to gather supplies and form a plan. There were no trees to mask their departure, But Robb hoped the dark of night would provide enough cover. Theon and Jory. Only two men. It was less than Sansa deserved, less than what she needed. What were two men against a city full of Lannister guards? Jory waved at him and smiled his usual, amiable way.
"I've only just returned, and you're sending me back once again," Jory laughed. "I deserve more pay, Your Grace." Robb managed a slight grin.
"Aye, that you do. Bring my sister back and I may just give you Winterfell," Robb japed. Jory chuckled before returning to readying the horses. Jon walked forward to help him.
Robb's own laughter died when Theon approached him. It should be me, Robb thought. It should be him riding south for Sansa. What kind of brother was he, to send another to do his work? It wasn't fair to Theon, or Jory. They could very well not come back at all. Jory had already given so much to the Starks, and Theon… What did he truly owe them? "Theon," Robb began, but Theon interrupted.
He clasped Robb's shoulder. "I'll bring her back, Robb. I promise. I won't leave without her."
Robb grimaced. He couldn't promise that. They both knew Theon couldn't make that promise. But he did anyway. "I can't thank you enough, Theon. For going."
Theon smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I heard you promise Jory Winterfell. I may ask for the Dreadfort."
Robb snorted. "Lord Bolton may take issue with that." Theon snickered. "I'll repay you some other way."
Theon shook his head. "I don't want payment. I'm not doing this for payment."
Robb embraced Theon, and then Jory. They mounted their horses and started south, Robb and Jon watching as they rode off. They would both come back. They had to. The gods wouldn't be so cruel as to take them. He had to believe that. But the gods had taken his father. Who's to say they wouldn't take his mother as well? Or Bran, or Rickon, Arya and Jon. Or Alysanne.
He would give anything to know that his mother was safe. It felt like ages ago that she'd left to go treat with Renly. He had no way of knowing if she'd actually made it there. It was a long way between Riverrun and Bitterbridge. And what if Renly took her for a hostage? The more his mind wandered, the more he thought that perhaps he should have sent someone else in her stead.
And what about Rickon, all alone in Winterfell? He was only nine, and already he had lost his father. Robb's stomach twisted. Who did he have with him? Old Nan was the closest thing to family left in Winterfell with him. Robb hoped Ser Rodrick had reached Winterfell. Rickon shouldn't be alone. A boy of nine couldn't rule the North alone. His mother had wanted to return home. He felt selfish for sending her south again.
Robb and Jon returned to the keep and started towards their chambers. His mind continued to race, and it was all he could do to calm it. Theon and Jory would bring Sansa home or he would march to King's Landing himself, Others take anyone who tried to tell him otherwise. I was right to send Theon. He couldn't wait for the Lannisters to agree with his terms, Sansa couldn't wait for them to decide to trade for Jaime.
Images of his sister, kneeling and bloody before the Iron Throne, came to his mind unbidden. The rumours were horrifying, and he hoped beyond all belief that they were more falsehoods than truths. But Alysanne didn't seem to think so. She'd been beside herself when Wylla told them. Robb wouldn't have been surprised if he had awoken the next morning to find that she'd gone to King's Landing herself. I don't think I've ever seen her so angry.
Jon said his farewells and turned down a different hallway, leaving Robb with Grey Wind. The door to his chambers opened as he approached, and Wylla and Jorelle filed out. Jorelle continued ahead of Wylla, who hesitated. Robb looked at her quizzically, but she only pressed her lips into a thin line and continued on. He nodded to the guard posted outside their chambers, not Ser Addam, he noted, and continued in.
Alysanne sat at the small table by their bed, a pitcher of wine in front of her and a half empty goblet in her hand. The hearth in their room was lit and she stared blankly into it. It's a warm night. Why has she lit the hearth? Her hair had been only partially let down from her tight braids, and she wore her dressing robe over her shift, loose and untied. Her dress from the day lay discarded on the bed. Robb frowned. She'd always been meticulous when it came to her dresses. She never tossed them on the ground or on the bed.
She stared at him a moment upon his entrance before grabbing a pitcher off the table and refilling her wine. "Has Theon left?"
Robb unlaced his doublet and placed it in the chest at the foot of the bed. "Aye, he and Jory only just left. We'll tell the other lords they left to negotiate with Lord Balon after all." It was best that they believed so, Jon thought. Word spread quickly throughout the camps. It would ruin everything if the Lannisters got word of where Theon was really headed.
She swirled the wine in her goblet before taking a sip. "Don't send me west, Robb." He blinked at the change in conversation. She returned her gaze to the hearth. "I came south with you. I don't want to leave you."
Damn her. It was hard to say no to her. He didn't want to send her west any more than she wanted to leave. He tried to recall the longest they'd been apart. When she visited King's Landing, perhaps. Robb feared this would be longer. "You came south with me because you know more of the Westerlands than me. Or Jon. Between you and Ser Brynden and Ser Addam, you're the best chance I have at taking the Westerlands."
"The Westerlands," she sneered. "The Westerlands were my first home, you know. It should be sweet to return." Her words slurred at the end of her sentence. She took another gulp of her wine. Robb often forgot that the Westerlands were her first home. He'd only known Alysanne as she was in Winterfell, draped and greys and wrapped in furs, snow lacing her hair. The North was his first home, his only home. It always had been. But that wasn't true for Alysanne.
Alys moved her gaze from the flames to him. Her face was flushed, whether from the heat of the room or the wine, Robb did not know. "They haven't been my home for years now, but it's where I'm from."
Robb toed off his boots. She's drunk. "I know, Alys. You've told me much about them." They'd spent countless late nights, sharing stories from their lives before she came to Winterfell. He knew all about her Uncle Gerion and his boats, the sun-soaked days she'd spent sailing under the shadow of Casterly Rock.
"I've told you much about them," she echoed. "Have I ever told you the story of the Reynes and the Tarbecks?" She took a large gulp of wine.
Robb furrowed his brow. "You've never told it, but I know it. A grim tale."
She tipped her goblet back and drained the rest of the wine. She poured another glass. How many has she had? She took a sip. "My grandfather marched against them, slaughtered them all. The women and the children. Clean from the map, because they owed him money." Robb walked to the table and looked at the pitcher. It was a rather large pitcher, and half empty. Alysanne had refocused on the fire. He moved it off the table and behind a chest. "He marched against his own people." Alysanne took another large sip of her wine.
"My grandfather always spoke to me of duty." She faced away from him, but Robb could see the tense lines of her shoulders, the way she clenched her fists so tight, her knuckles turned white. "That's all he ever talked about. Duty. I can hear him know, you know. Preaching on and on about family," she snorted and tossed her head back, draining the rest of the wine from her goblet. Robb reached out to guide her to her feet. She pulled from his grasp and stumbled to her feet all on her own. She started to pace. "That's all he ever spoke to me about. The only lessons he tried to instill, aside from how to rule. My duty to my family, to House Lannister. Do you know what else he tried to teach me? Do you know what else he said was my duty?"
Robb shook his head. He stood and began unlacing his doublet, keeping a close eye on her as she paced the length of the room. "My duty to my husband. To bear his children, to secure the Lannister hold in Winterfell," she slurred mockingly. "That's what he wanted me to do, Robb. He wanted strings to pull in the north. That's all I am to him."
Robb's heart fell. "But that's not all you are, Alys. You know that. Who cares what he wants?" She didn't seem to hear him.
"Duty to House Lannister, duty to my husband, but what of my mother's family?" she hissed. "What of my duty to my mother's family? What of his? My mother was his good-daughter. Was she not his family? He betrayed them," she said hysterically, rounding on him. "He betrayed them. Aerys was mad, we all know it. Perhaps he was not wrong to turn his back on him. He would have burned the entire city to the ground," she trailed off.
Burn the entire city? "Alysanne, what do you mean?"
She ignored his question. "But what of Elia Martell? My cousins Aegon and Rhaenys? They were innocent, and he betrayed them, too. He betrayed my grandmother Rhaella, my aunt and uncle." Her eyes flashed in the firelight. "What would he have done to my mother, had she not been married to my father? He would have killed her, too."
Robb reached out to her, but once again she moved away. "All of this talk of duty. The North is my home, too. The northerners are my people now. I have a duty to them, don't I? To fight for the North. But what of the rest of my family, Robb?"
His head spun, trying to keep up with her. Reynes and Tarbecks. The rebellion, a burning city. What is she talking about? "Alysanne, you can stay in Riverrun, if you'd like," he said softly.
She laughed. "I can stay in Riverrun?" she mocked. "It's too late now. What will our bannermen think if I stay back? That I was too craven? That I've too much sympathy for the west?"
His nostrils flared. "I'm sorry," he gritted out. "I didn't think before-"
"No, you didn't," she retorted. "You didn't think, Robb."
"And what do you want me to do?" He struggled to control his volume. "You don't want to stay in Riverrun, you don't want to march West-"
"I do," she cried. "I do want to march west," she sobbed. He caught her shoulders and held her still before him. "I feel awful for it. What does that make me? I'm leading an army against my family's home. I'm just as awful as him. I'm just like him, marching against my own family-"
He grasped her face in his hands. "You're not like him," he said. "This is not the same. It's not." He smoothed the hair back from her face. "You aren't slaughtering a city, you're not slaughtering entire houses. You aren't arranging for the slaughter of a mother and her children. You aren't him."
"Who marches against her own home? What does that make me?" she said shakily. Her eyes were wide, wide and filled with terror. "I feel as though I'm going mad, Robb. My grandfather went mad, they say Rhaegar was mad. What if my mother was mad as well?"
He kissed her forehead. "You aren't going mad." He brushed the tears from her cheeks, smiling sadly at her. "You aren't going mad. I believe that's just the wine."
She gave him a watery smile. "You would have been better placing Jon in command, or Ser Brynden. I can't ride into battle with the men, I'm dreadful with a sword."
Robb hummed and wrapped an arm around her, leading her to the bed. "You aren't dreadful. You're better than Rickon, and you beat me that one time."
"Rickon isn't even ten, and you let me win," she said incredulously. Robb stifled his laughter. He had let her win. It was worth it, to lose to her occasionally. "I haven't truly beaten you in years now."
The lit fire made the room far too warm for the blankets. He settled on top of them and pulled her tight against his chest. "Perhaps not," he admitted. She was asleep far before him. Her words echoed over and over. I didn't think.
There were two days before she was to depart, but to Robb, it felt like no time at all. He tried to speak to her again about what she'd said, but she would say nothing. Robb couldn't imagine waging a war against the North. It must bother her, still.
Instead, she busied herself with readying the men. He followed her from meeting to meeting. The Smalljon and the men he was bringing. Lady Mormont, who would ride west with her and the Mormont men at arms. It comforted Robb to know she would be going as well. Lady Mormont had won countless battles against the Ironborn, and she respected Alysanne. She'll need allies, aside from Jon and Ser Addam. Ser Stevron would join her host as well, something Robb was almost envious of. At least Ser Stevon was polite. Robb almost liked him, compared to Ser Ryman and Black Walder. "Consider it recompense, for sending me away," she'd japed.
The day came for her to leave, all too soon, in Robb's opinion. Alysanne sat on her horse, Ser Brynden, Jon, and Ser Addam just behind her. Wylla and Jorelle stood by their horses, ready and waiting for Alysanne. Robb gave them a polite nod. He approached Alysanne and fiddled with the tack, tightening straps, and inspecting the job Olyvar had done.
"You'll stop at Riverrun on the way," he said. "The rest of the Rivermen wait for you there." Alysanne gave him a chiding look.
She fixed the way her skirt lay. "I'm aware, Robb. We've gone over the plan hundreds of times."
He stroked the nose of her horse. She continued to fidget with her skirts. "Alys," he said. He stilled her hand, and she looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Be safe."
She sniffed and reached for his hand. "It's you who should be safe. I'm taking your best swordsman," she nodded towards Jon, who gave Robb a cheery wave.
He grasped her hand tight in his. "Promise me, Alysanne."
Her eyes watered and she nodded. "Aye, Robb. I promise."