Authors Note: There will be no major OC's in this story, while events have been edited and switched around; every major character mentioned appears in ASOIAF. This is rated M so you have been warned and may contain Starkcest (undecided at this point). Each chapter will focus on one of the Stark siblings or Jon Snow. For the record, Jon never went to the Wall, instead all the Starks stayed in Winterfell.
Robb Stark – Part One
"Women are born to endure, we see first our fathers leave for war, then our brothers and later our lovers, then finally our sons. We watch as they conquer and turn evil or fall. In the end it matters little which side they are on, for the men that they were is lost to us all the same. Don't let me lose you Robb." – Roslin Frey
Kings Road was barren in the early hours of morning, layered thick with a fresh coat of snow; their footprints leaving heavy marks. He prayed it would snow before another traveler came across them.
Jon and Arya had argued that they should stay off the road, King Joffrey's men had surely moved on to Cerwyn and Moat Cailin. Any house of the North that did not stand with the King in his conquest of Winterfell would fall. Jon had quietly reminded them that they had no friends left. He had seen the Bolton sigil rise high in the sky when the offending troops had ambushed Winterfell.
But only Bran had a horse and traveling through the vast fields and unforgiving wilderness that made up the North would be too trying on Sansa. His eldest sister must have sensed he made the decision for her because she gave him a small private smile, her bright blue eyes twinkling.
"Did ye' hear that?"
Robb was drawn out of his thoughts by Rickon's hushed whisper.
"We need to get off the road," Arya pleaded, not for the first time that day. Her voice was acidic and irritated.
Beside her Jon nodded in agreement, his steely grey eyes making a quick sweep of the surrounding area, looking for signs of movement, signs of life, "We're sitting ducks out here Robb, we've got to get some shelter."
Overhead a crow cackled, its black figure a silhouette against the early morning sky, Sansa seemed to draw into herself.
"Arya and Jon are right Robb, we cannot stay on the road – it's too dangerous," Sansa's voice was shaky and her eyes stayed trained on the bird, "perhaps we should find cover and some rest?"
They were all tired to be true; The King's troops had attacked during feast the night prior, taking Winterfell by surprise. They had come from Wolfswood, quiet as a mouse until they began knocking down the walls of Winterfell, thousands and thousands of Baratheon and Bolton men. Robb had been sitting next to his promised, Roslin Frey, who had just arrived in Winterfell. It was their engagement feast. He remembered the look of sheer terror in the young girls wide brown eyes as she was torn away from him in the confusion.
Her pleading eyes haunted him, as he played over and over again the images of Ramsay Bolton grabbing her about the waist and dragging her off. What kind of man was he, allowing his future wife to become a prisoner of that bastard half-wit Ramsay Bolton?
He looked back at his siblings; he had done it for them. When the attack began he was seated to his father's right, and in the chaos the older man had leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Find your brothers and sisters and get them out Robb. Run Robb, run!"
He was responsible for them now, all five of them, even Jon who was only a few months younger than himself.
"Alright then," he looked to his right, Wolfswood stood dark and forbidding beside them, "we can rest, but only for a bit and we must stay in the woods."
Even Rickon had the sense to look mildly afraid. The Wolfswood was dangerous at best of times, but now that they were aware the offending troops had a working knowledge of the dense foliage, it was downright frightening.
Still Robb knew it was their best chance at not being seen. Soon the sun would hang high in the sky and Kings Road would be busy with those traveling throughout the North, many towards Winterfell in morbid curiosity.
Even if their footprints were seen heading towards the woods, few would follow. Robb was sure that most thought the siblings had perished in the ambush, so even if someone did find the footprints odd, they would not make the connection. Or so he prayed.
"Well let's get on with it then, or should we wait around to be caught?" Arya huffed passed her siblings, shoving the skirts of her grey dress out of her way as she stumbled towards the woods.
Robb watched on amused, it wasn't every day you see little Arya Underfoot in a dress, truth she was not so little anymore, but she still favored breeches and tunics over dresses. Their lady mother Catelyn had insisted she wear a gown like a proper lady for the feast though, there was to be many eligible men there, from House Frey and various other houses, and Arya was reaching marriageable age.
He wished now that his mother had allowed his little sister to dress as she wished, her heavy skirts could only slow her down.
The trees edged out even the slightest bit of light from the early morning sky, bathing the little group in darkness. Still they walked on, it would not do to make camp by the edge of the forest. Instead, Bran leading the way on his horse, they walked deep into the forest before coming to a small clearing.
"This will do."
Robb dropped the small satchel he had been carrying since they left Winterfell, reaching in to pull out blankets for the others. By the grace of the Seven Gods, old and new, Septa Mordane had found them the barest of provisions, pressing the satchel in Robb's hands as they fled the Great Hall, repeating the same haunting words as his father, "Run Robb, run."
Sansa made a big bed for all of them, they would need each other near to keep their body temperature up, and Jon placed Bran in the middle after lifting him off of his horse and securing it to a nearby tree.
Rickon and Sansa joined Bran, curling close together against the cold. This was better for them; at night it would be too cold to sleep, better to find rest in the day and travel under the darkness of night.
Robb sighed heavily, scanning their campsite once more, Arya and Jon were leaning against a large tree at the edge, whispering thick as thieves, their heads bent closely together. He often wondered about them, so alike in personality and appearance, both Starks through and through.
His eyes were heavy with sleep and he knew the other two would guard them, so he lay down beside Rickon, allowing nightmares to overtake him.
In his dreams he saw a pale slip of a girl with long mouse brown hair and wide brown eyes, screaming for help, screaming for him.
xXx
As heir to Winterfell, Robb had gone on many journeys with his far, Lord Eddard Stark. He had visited his Tully family at Riverrun and the Arryn's in the Vale, he had even been to Kings Landing once, a long time ago when Robert Baratheon was still king.
Just two years prior he had journeyed to the Iron Islands with his father, to return Theon Greyjoy. Theon had been a captive of the Stark's, four years Robb's elder he had been one of Robb's closest confidants as a youth and had been treated more as family then prisoner.
He had never understood what pushed his father to return Theon to the Iron Islands, he only knew one day his father had sent for him and Theon, brought them to the Great Hall and explained that they were leaving Winterfell; Theon permanently.
That night he had gone to Theon's room, to talk to him, but had seen a sight that stopped him. Theon, a man of four and twenty, was weeping bitterly into his hands. Robb had watched him in morbid fascination, surprised that the Ironborn man was not rejoicing at the news that he would rejoin his family.
He had never discussed that night with Theon or his father, he had never discussed it with anyone. Then the next day they were off and before long Theon was far behind them, stuck on the Iron Islands with his snarky elder sister Asha and his lord father Balon Greyjoy.
They would return there now, to the Iron Islands. Balon Greyjoy had died six moons ago and Asha was head of the Iron Islands, but Theon would help them.
One sleep had once again evaded him, Robb had hatched this plan. They had been on the move for nearly a week, passing the fallen Cerwyn and Moat Cailin, sometimes by Kings Road and other times scampering through the undergrowth, Bran riding a bit ahead to warn them of upcoming danger.
If they could cross the Twins then they could charter a ship out of Seagard, though without money Robb wasn't sure how they would manage.
They would be safe in the Iron Islands, he could leave Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon there and return to the North with Jon to raise an army and regain and rebuild Winterfell. Then, he would turn to Kings Landing and exact revenge against King Joffrey.
Imagining this future kept Robb moving, even when his legs felt weak and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He would avenge his parents death, and then, when this was done, he would bring his siblings back to Winterfell and return their home to its former splendor.
"My legs hurt."
Rickon, once again, brought Robb back to reality. For any hope of revenge was far off, first he would have to reach the Twins and somehow gain them passage across. He thought of Roslin, the Frey's would not be glad to see him, knowing the fate he left their daughter to.
Still, he must continue on. He looked around him, to Bran up ahead sitting high on his jet black horse, to Arya and Jon trudging along just behind him, whispering as always, to Sansa doing her best to help Rickon who was weak with sleep and hunger; he must continue on for them.