Author's Note: I'M SORRY OKAY.

My bad y'all, I know it's been like half a year but life got busy. I hope you can forgive me!

We now have like 900 followers and 700 favs and 400 reviews, which makes me doubly chagrined for taking so long to update. But thanks for all the support guys!

Check out the second a/n, gonna discuss some things there. As always, I hope you enjoy and review this update!

He found Robb Stark right where he had left him.

The hill, still blackened and barren, saw the second meeting of the two young commanders at dawn ten days after Damon left the capitol.

Robb had increased his retinue for this second meeting, which was all well and good in Damon's estimation; he had done the same. The King in the North, seated atop the same sorrel stallion, was surrounded by a dozen of his bannerman, in addition to his mother and the great grey beast everyone seemed to think was a wolf—Damon, for his part, considered it a demon. He recognized the Greatjon and Blackfish from their last meeting, as well as Lords Bolton and Manderly from the north and Jason Mallister from the Riverlands. The other men were a mix of northern furs and Riverland plate, heraldry speaking of Forrester's, Vances and Cerwyns, among others.

The King of the Iron Throne had an increased retinue of his own. Two of his Kingsguard—Ser Balon and Jaime—hung near him. Tyrek was of course present, not far from Damon's right hand, as was Garlan. Edmure and Sansa, still his prisoners, were once again in attendance, one tied to their saddle and the other free as a bird. Ser Damion Lannister, who had been left in command of the Westerland forces in Damon's absence, had joined them alongside Ser Forley Prester. Lord Mathis Rowan, incumbent commander of the Reachman when Garlan left alongside Damon, was also present, bringing his aide-de-camp Ser Jon Ashford.

I'm outnumbered. If not for that damn wolf I wouldn't be concerned.

Okay, I would, but less so.

Still, the fact that Robb was still here meant something. Damion and Lord Mathis had informed him as soon as he returned that there had been no hostilities in his absence; while Damon had commanded them only to wage war if it was instigated by the Northerners, it still surprised the new king. He had sent a rushed message to Robb before his return to the capitol, asking for a month's parley, but he hadn't anticipated the proclaimed King in the North to listen.

But the fact that Stark had…well, that at least boded well for a potential peace.

There were no theatrics, no ghost-like appearances out of the woods like last time. As soon as Damon entered the clearing, he found Robb and his companions waiting for him on top of the hill. Without a word to any of his own Damon set out at a trot to meet them.

As they neared, Sansa—freely riding a bay—kicked her mare into a gallop, straight for her mother. Ashford made to follow but Damon waved him back, continuing his own steady trot up the hill. As he had predicted, it wasn't an escape attempt; Catelyn Stark had dismounted as soon as her daughter broke into the flight, and Sansa all but fell out of the saddle into her mother's arms.

Robb was impassive as Damon approached. Damon tried to be the same, ignoring the two embracing women as he and his men reined to a stop fifteen paces away. "Stark."

"Lannister."

Still angry, I see. Though over just what I don't know.

Damon sighed. "Baratheon. As you know." He continued on before Robb could interject some witty reply. "I will admit, I didn't think you would still be here."

Some of the northern bannermen exchanged glances. Apparently, some of your men didn't think so either. Robb answered without acknowledging them. "You and I seemed to be in peace negotiations; since they haven't ended, my promise of good conduct for them is still holding."

His uncle spoke before Damon could. "One break in word is enough for you, eh Stark?"

Rowan, Ashford and Damion Lannister chuckled. Robb, though he reddened visibly, kept his voice level. "You tell me, Kingslayer. Was one enough for you?"

This time northerners chuckled, but so did Jaime. "Aye, but my broken vow killed one man. Yours has already killed at least three."

"Jaime," Damon said as sternly as he could manage. "Enough."

It felt odd to command anything of his uncle, but Jaime nodded. "At once, Your Grace."

But, even if he had spoken when he shouldn't have, he brought up a valid point.

Damon had learned more of the war while in King's Landing than he had in the field, or at least the political side of it. He had heard rumors of course, but rumors in war time were best not believed. Some though had been right, such as the falling out of House Frey and Stark, centered around the treachery of House Westerling.

Damon cleared his throat. "I didn't congratulate you on your wedding last we spoke." It wasn't until most of his men laughed again that the king realized they took it as a slight towards Robb.

The King in the North reddened more, but still kept his voice in check. "I didn't congratulate you either, King Damon. Or is it condolences?"

There was no point in taking the comment to heart, just as there was not point in trying to explain to Robb that he had meant his congratulations sincerely. Damon, his own face red and stomach turning, tried to bring the conversation back to its focus. Although it was never there in the first place. "Have you considered my offer?"

Robb nodded once. "Have you considered mine?"

"I told you the answer to it a moon ago."

"If I recall, so did I to yours. That's why you dragged a screaming, innocent woman from the arms of her mother."

He didn't need reminding. "No, I dragged a screaming, innocent woman from the arms of her mother because you seemed to think you have the upper hand in these negotiations."

Robb cocked his head. "Don't I? I don't recall losing a battle."

Damon mimicked the motion. "And I don't recall seeing Frey or Karstark spears in your ranks for months. How many battles have you won without them?"

"The same number you have."

Fair point. "Fair. But are you going to risk both of our records for your pride?"

Robb didn't relent. "Are you?"

Damon answered honestly. "If you refuse to see reason, yes." He held up his hand. "Let's speak facts, not insults. I have more men, and would still have more men even if your choice of wife hadn't driven thousands from you. I have your uncle. I have your sister."

Stark opened his mouth to speak but Damon cut him off. "Let's see what you have. Ironborn in command of your ancestral castle, with more of them raiding your people and your grain stores at will. And, to top it all off, you can't drive them out."

Robb cocked a brow. "Oh?"

Damon shrugged. "No. Because you also have me to your south and a bunch of mad Freys in command of your bridge back home. Half of your own army left you, and judging by some of the faces here others are considering it. You're beaten, Robb."

The Young Wolf's face finally darkened. "I don't see it that way."

Then you're blind. Or… Damon glanced at the cold, hostile faces of the men surrounding Robb. Or you're backed into a corner and don't know the best way to move forward. Damon thought back to his last few months of uncertainty and blind guesses. I think we have more in common than either of us realize, Robb.

"Leave us."

The silence thickened, and Damon felt all eyes—Northerners and Southrons alike—focus on him. Jaime spoke after a few seconds. "Your Grace…"

"Is asking you to leave him and Robb to speak in private, Ser Jaime." He glanced at his uncle, seeing the concern in the face he imagined he himself would one day wear. "If you would, return to the bottom of the hill."

Damon turned back to Robb, who's eyes were slightly squinted as he focused on Damon. After a few moments, he too spoke. "You as well, my lords. If Damon wishes to speak alone, I will oblige him."

Jaime and the Greatjon spoke as one. "But…"

Damon held up a hand as Robb spoke Greatjon into silence. "No buts, Lord Umber. Damon wishes to talk, not fight."

"Need I remind you, Lord Umber, that the only side with a record of trying to assassinate the other is yours. But if it's violence you're worried about…" Damon undid his swordbelt, handing the ornate scabbard and Valyrian steel within to Tyrek.

Jaime's voice was tinged with a mix of irritation and worry. "Your Grace…"

"Don't worry, uncle. Robb won't have his sword either."

The two kings met gazes for a moment, and then Robb did the same, handing his own blade to the Blackfish.

There was much mumbling and grumbling by the men on both sides, but eventually the two young men found themselves staring at one another from twenty feet away, unmounted besides their respective stallions. Even the direwolf Grey Wind, at a harshly barked command from Robb, had retreated to the woodline at the bottom of the hill, though Damon imagined the beast could be back to the top and all over him in a moment. A risk I have to take.

A point of contention had been Sansa—no one, Damon included, wanted to split her and her mother rom their reunion so quickly, but he knew that if she went over the hill with the Northmen she wasn't likely to ever come back. As compromise, the two red haired women stood fifty yards down the ridge, speaking quietly to themselves, their horses having gone with the Blackfish and others. Damon knew they could quite easily still escape, but he was holding to the hope of Robb's word that they wouldn't do so.

Though, if it were Myrcella, I'm not sure I'd be worried about my own reputation over the safe return of my sister.

Be it as it may.

Damon took a few steps towards Robb, shrinking the distance between them. "I didn't mean it as an insult earlier. Congratulations on your marriage."

Robb nodded, softly. "Thank you."

"I thought it might be easier to come to an agreement without angry old men scoffing at every word."

Stark nearly smiled for a moment, lips twitching, but soon they returned to a stressed line. "Whether they are there to scoff or not, they're bound to take issue with whatever is or isn't agreed upon."

Damon chuckled mirthlessly. "Infuriating, isn't it. No matter what we do or how we do it, someone will be pissed off about it."

Robb's smile broke through then, however briefly. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

There was another moment of silence before Robb, who for a moment had been the boy from Winterfell Damon had almost sort of gotten along with, cleared his throat and became the King of the North again. "What is it then?"

Oh well. It's best we not have a moment of brotherhood anyway, in case this all falls through and I have to try and kill you. "What is the delay, Robb?"

"I told you."

"And I pointed out how that is no longer relevant."

Robb's voice grew cold. "Your brother killing my father is not relevant?"

Damon clenched his jaw for a moment. "Mistakes have been made on both sides. I don't know everything that happened in the capitol at the time of your father's death. Or the time of mine's, for that matter."

The heat of anger burned through the Stark ice Robb had shown moments ago. "My father is—was—no liar." Robb lowered his head ever so slightly, like a bull about to charge, his iron and bronze crown shifting ever so slightly through his reddish locks. "About anything."

The King of the Iron Throne felt another chill unassociated with the frost of the Starks enter his bloodstream. He lowered his own golden head, emerald and gold crown a stark contrast to the bronze and iron, like a rival bull coming to meet the charge. "Those accusations are horseshit."

Robb cocked his head. "Are they?"

When the two men had first met back in Winterfell, Damon had never been one for anger. He still wasn't, not really, but something in his experiences in the many moons since had made it come much more easily to him, especially on this matter. "Yes, they are. My uncle—"

"Isn't your uncle, or so they say."

Damon swallowed, then continued through gritted teeth. "My uncle is an honorable man. My mother, despite her faults, is not a harlot. My father was Robert Baratheon, the first of his name."

"And you brother was Joffrey Baratheon, the first of his. Yet he put the Lannister lion on his banner, wore scarlet over black, had blonde hair and green eyes instead of black and blue. And he was utterly fucking mad, much like a Targaryen. And both of know what caused that, don't we."

"Your father—"

"Tried to keep a bastard off the throne. He failed, and lost his life for it. Now there's been two of them."

Damon barely contained a growl. Although in a way it only added to Robb's accusations, Damon's face gone from his normally slightly-alarmed expression to that of a true Lannister, eyes fiery and face carved from the stone of Casterly Rock, expression cold and implacable. "He betrayed the Iron Throne in a quest for power. He was executed as all traitors should be."

Robb reared up. "Are you going to try and execute me, then? I haven't lost to you lot yet."

"You haven't faced us without the Karstarks or Freys either, and your inability to keep your cock in your pants ran them off."

Robb snarled, hand going for a sword that wasn't there. He and Damon both tensed, glaring at each other as if looks alone could kill a man. "Fuck you, Damon."

"Spoken like a true king."

They settled for glaring at one another, although if they hadn't sent their weapons away it likely would have come to blows. If it had been a duel, Damon had no doubt that he'd eviscerate the wolflord in moments, but neither of them had blades. In a fistfight, Damon imagined Robb might have the upper hand thanks to his broader shoulders and stockier build, but he was riled enough right now that his anger might well give him the savagery needed to account for Robb's greater size.

But then a voice cut through the building storm between the men. "Robb."

Sansa had spoken from thirty feet away and was closing rapidly, Catelyn hurrying at her side and seemingly trying to draw her back. Damon, his thoughts interrupted by her sudden voice, straightened out of the fighting crouch he hadn't known he'd been in. Robb had done the same, and both men turned to face the tall woman stomping towards them.

Sansa came to a halt ten feet from them, Catelyn's hand on the crook of her arm. Her voice was tight with anger and fear and weariness. "I want to go home to Winterfell. I want to go back North and never come south again. And I want you to be alive when I do it."

Robb, still smarting, thrust a hand towards Damon. "His brother—"

"Is dead." Damon flinched at the words, but didn't interrupt as Sansa continued. "I watched him order our father killed, heard him laugh as his thugs beat me, saw his smile as he showed me father's head on a pike. But he is dead, dead, gone. So are Rickon, so are Bran. Don't join them."

Damon physically took a step back when her eyes fell on him. "When I see you, I think of him, but you only look marginally alike. I have suffered at the hands of your family, whatever their names, but not at your own hands. That is why I want you and my brother to make peace, so that I can go home. If you were Joffrey I'd want Robb to kill you right now, but you aren't."

She darted her head back to Robb. "But he isn't."

Sansa, whom Damon had only ever seen to be demur and quiet, glared at them both a long moment before she turned, her and her mother moving away as quickly as they came.

Damon and Robb, anger having fled from their features, stared after her, then looked again at one another. After a time, Damon broke the silence. "She's right. I am not Joffrey."

Robb slowly nodded, deflating a touch. "I know."

The Daring swallowed, fighting back down a touch of the anger that had tried to reappear. "Let us forget the last five minutes, Robb. Throw what was said aside, speak as two men with too much responsibility on their shoulders might when trying to alleviate some of it."

"The North Remembers, Damon."

"And a Lannister always pays his debts, Robb."

After a moment, Robb nodded slowly. "That's a fair enough place to start."

Jaime could have throttled his nephew when Damon finally reappeared in the moonlight hours later. Caring not for decorum, he kicked his animal into a gallop, closing with Damon and pulling up beside him, hissing through his teeth. "Are you fucking insane?"

Damon, face fatigued, nodded. "Haven't I proven that already?"

"It's been hours."

"Each of us had a lot to say."

"You could have been killed if he had been treacherous."

"He wasn't, nor was I."

Tyrek appeared, a torch in one hand. It cast light on Damon's weary countenance, glittering on the emerald and gold of his crown. "Where is Lady Sansa?"

Damon shrugged. "In a tent with her mother I'd wager."

Jaime cut in. "You let her go?"

"It was one of the terms."

"The terms of what?"

Suddenly an object was thrust into Jaime's hand from Damon's. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard glanced down, seeing a bronze and iron crown with northern runes that he unconsciously took. When he looked back up, Damon met his eyes for a moment. "The terms for peace."

The King kicked his stallion. "Now, if I may, I have a tent and a brown-haired woman to visit." And away the king rode, whistling as he went.

A/N: There once was a time when I had the majority of this story planned out. That time was before I started writing it, and before it kind of took on a life of it's own. I still have major plotlines in place that have been from the beginning, but a lot of my mid and minor details are evolving as I go, some of which are still in a state of fludity. I'm bad for changing a plotline on a whim and cleaning up the mess afterwards, but hey, it seems to have worked decently well so far! Hopefully you guys bear with me!

I have no idea if you guys are going to like that plot move or not, but I'm eager to hear all the reasons yes and no, so please review or send a message! For those pissed, two things: 1) I 'm gonna do what I wanna do dammit and 2) curveballs might be (are) coming, so hang in there!

FYI, if anyone has questions they legitimately would like me to answer or to reason with them (beyond 'when's the next chapter') your best bet is a message! I read all reviews, but I'm crap at responding to them. My bad!

The last tease became irrelevant because I took so long to update that I couldn't remember where I was going with that really, but here's another!

*tease* Once a king, always a king, at least in some minds. AKA the fallout.

Y'all rock.

-Kerjack