The King Who Lost the North

Robb Stark was sitting alone in his solar, pouring over the same map he had been for hours now. Melantha had decided to sit on his lap and look over them with him, rather than play with her brothers so he wouldn't be lonely, as she said, though he could tell all of this was quite boring to her.

Ser Forley Prester was preparing to march from the Golden Tooth, with a strong force of at least two thousand. Robb knew his men would outnumber Ser Forley's, but that was not as troubling as the word they had from out East

Lord Tywin had set out from Harrenhal, back across the Riverlands, to strike against him, with his full strength behind him. That had been Robb's hope, but now things had changed. The Ironborn had betrayed him, and invaded the North while he and his men were in the south, and the Freys had abandoned him. With Ser Forley and other reinforcements in the west, Robb didn't doubt they would number at least twenty thousand, while he didn't have any more than four thousand. His uncle, Ser Edmure, would be able to delay Lord Tywin at Riverrun, and deal him heavy losses perhaps, but Robb knew he was most likely going to be outnumbered at least three to one.

There was some good news, as Lord Bolton had written stating he meant to march on Harrenhal now that Lord Tywin had left, and would take it while the garrison was depleted. Having the great castle would certainly help, but Robb did not think it would be enough.

I need more men, he told himself. The Westerlings had not brought many to his cause, and the Freys were lost for the time being. Lord Roose and Ser Edmure were both too far away to join forces with him in time.

"Can you bring me that letter?" Robb asked, pointing for Melantha at an unopened letter on the other side of the table.

"Yes, father," she said, nodding and fetched it quickly, setting it down in front of him, before sitting next to him, grinning a little to show how glad she was to help.

Robb looked over the letter carefully. It had come from Storm's End, but he had ignored it when he saw that it was not from his mother. Now that Lord Renly had been slain, he did not know what to count on from the south. For just a moment he studied the seal, and then opened the letter.

It didn't take him very long to realize what the letter was. Ser Cortnay Penrose was pleading for aid at Storm's End, though it was addressed for Lord Gawen, not him. Ser Cortnay is truly desperate, Robb thought to himself as he set the letter down. He didn't doubt that a hundred other lords of Westeros had received the same letter, and every one of them had ignored it as he was going to.

Storm's End was on the other end of the continent, and Robb was sure the castle would fall well before he would ever arrive to lift the siege. He would need to go through Lord Tywin and take King's Landing first if he wanted to even consider such an attack. Unless…

Robb looked down at the map for just a moment. It seemed like folly to him, but perhaps there was a chance. Lord Mace Tyrell lacked a king now that Renly had died, and he had refused to tip his banners to Stannis. Now if he wanted a king, he would have to look to Robb, or else it would be the Lannisters or Greyjoys.

For a moment, he considered what to write in a letter to the Lord of Highgarden, but then he thought better of it. His host was all mounted, and if Lord Tywin wanted to pursue Robb, he would be able to move faster. I would make it to Highgarden first, he thought to himself. Mace Tyrell would give me the men to fight Tywin Lannister.

For a moment, Robb considered what Lord Mace would want though. Perhaps his daughter Margaery is with child, he thought, wondering if that was why he had chosen to defy Stannis. If not that, Robb was certainly Lord Mace would want a reward for his loyalty, just as the Freys had. Marriages or lands or gold, he thought to himself. But the Tyrells were already the second richest house in Westeros, and ruled the second largest kingdom, after the North, which only left the possibility of marriages. What marriages can I offer him? Robb wondered to himself.

When he glanced at Melantha, his heart began to sink. None, he realized. None that would sway Lord Mace at least. He was wed, and Eddard still had his betrothal to Hostella Frey. Bran and Rickon were dead, his sisters were captives of the Lannisters, and he did not think the Tyrells would be so eager to make a marriage involving Theo or Willam when they were second sons. That only left Melantha or Joanna, and even that he did not think very likely.

There were the houses sworn to Highgarden who perhaps could be won over; Rowan and Tarly and Redwyne and Hightower, but Robb was even less certain of what he could offer them and of which ones hadn't even gone over to Stannis.

Robb found himself wishing that father was there. He would have known what to do, about the Freys, about Myrcella, Ser Cortnay and Lord Tywin and everything else too. But now Lord Eddard was dead, and the burdens had all fallen onto him.

I will beat Lord Tywin, Robb vowed. He didn't know whether it would be with Lord Tyrell's help, or his Aunt Lysa or anyone else, but he promised himself that he would win. I need to strike before they are ready, he decided. That had been how he had won at the Whispering Wood and the Camps and the Stoney Sept and Oxcross, and he would need to do it again.

Robb looked over the map again. His great uncle had found a good deal of places where he felt that the terrain would be favorable to them if they were to face Lord Tywin there, but there was still one more battlefield to consider. He knew that when he stepped out into the courtyard, he would be met with cheers from his men. He did not think it likely Lord Tywin's men would do the same.

His father had once told him that Lord Tywin was a man who ruled by fear. "To rule with fear, one need be feared more than they are hated," he had explained. Another victory or two, and Lord Tywin's men would be hesitant to face him. But if he struck at the heart of Lord Tywin's power, perhaps they would break without so much as a battle. The only question was how.

Robb looked over at Melantha, and noticed she had her hands in her mouth. Instinctively, she took them out.

"Do you have a loose tooth?" He asked her, smiling a little.

"How did you know?" She said, sounding a little guilty over having kept it a secret.

He chuckled. "I was a child once too, you know."

Her eyes widened a little, and then she giggled.

Robb put a kiss on her cheek. "Just try not to put your hands in your mouth when the other lords and knights are around," he said, smiling.

Melantha nodded again, and he put his arm around her. "Gods be good," he muttered, quiet enough that she couldn't hear. "When did you get so big?" He stood, picking his daughter up and putting her on his shoulders. She giggled as he did, and he carried her out of the solar and out into the hallway. They managed to go through the castle, undisturbed, until they reached Maester Aron's Chambers.

Robb knocked gently on the door, and took Melantha down from his shoulders, much to her disappointment.

The Maester came to the door, opening it slowly at first, and then faster once he noticed who was there. "Y-your grace," he said quickly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm sure you already know, maester. It's the same as always."

"I don't believe I have any letters for you at the moment, your grace," he said.

"And my son?"

"Prince Eddard? His wound has healed nicely I would say."

I can see that, Robb wanted to say. The infection had run its course, but the wound still needed frequent bandage changes. "How long do you think it will be before he is fit to travel?"

Aron considered the question for a few moments. "How far will you be traveling?"

"I don't know," Robb lied. Eventually they would need to return to Riverrun, where he hoped they would be safe. He certainly didn't think he could leave the children behind at the Crag. He didn't want to trust the safety of them to a castle he had been able to take so easily.

"Well, your grace, I should say the prince needs a little more time and rest. Another fortnight and I think he will be ready."

Robb nodded. "Thank you maester," he said politely.

"It is the hour of the bat, sire," the maester told him. "Dinner will be served soon, though I believe they will wait for your presence."

"Aye." Robb hadn't noticed it before, but he did feel hungry, and he had no doubt Melantha was too, even though she hadn't said anything of it. "Come on Melantha," he said, taking her hand, and leading her back to his bedchambers first.

It was not a very long walk, and once Robb got there, he left Melantha outside for a few minutes, while he changed. He put on a grey doublet that had once belonged to his father, and grabbed his crown as well.

After that, he stepped out, and walked with Melantha to the next chamber over, and opened the door.

He expected to find Eddard and Theo playing on the floor or something similar. Instead he quickly saw that Eddard had fallen asleep, and that Theo was sitting on Jeyne's lap as she read to him.

"Grey Wind!" Melantha exclaimed when she saw the wolf in the corner of the room, and rushed towards him, putting her hands around Grey Wind's neck.

"Robb?" Jeyne called out. She closed the book, and Theo hopped down from her lap to come over towards him. He picked his son up, and held him with one arm.

Jeyne walked over a little more slowly than Theo, and took Robb's free arm. "Eddard-" Robb started to ask.

"-He's sleeping now," she told him. "Let him rest."

Robb looked over and saw Eddard was indeed sleeping on the bed. He was breathing steadily, and had been tucked in well. Eddard had seldom been seen by Robb's other lords, which gave him cause to worry. He was their crown prince after all, and one day it would be him who was tasked to rule over them too. All Robb could hope was that day came later than sooner.

At dinner, Robb sat at the high table, with Jeyne on one side, and Theo and Melantha on the other. Across from him sat the Westerlings, and around them were the rest of Robb's lords and companions. They ate venison and freshly caught bass from the sea.

Robb ate what was served, and listened to the conversations going on around the table. The Greatjon was drunkenly boasting, as he always did, and Domeric Bolton began to play songs, though nobody danced to them.

But their dinner was disturbed when Grey Wind suddenly leapt on the table, and snarled at Lady Sybell who was sitting across from Robb, baring his teeth as though he was going to rip out her throat.

"Down, Grey Wind," Robb ordered furiously. You fool, he cursed silently at himself. "Down!"

The wolf didn't obey him, instead only moving a little closer to the Lady of the Crag.

Robb started to rise, readying himself to possibly fight the beast, when another voice shouted. "Don't eat that!" Robb looked and saw Lucas Blackwood was rushing to Theo, and quickly snatched the plum out of his little hands.

The boy was mystified, as Blackwood sniffed the plum. After a few moments, he looked up. "It's poisoned," he declared.

"Poisoned?" Robb said. "Here?"

Lucas nodded, and handed him the plum. "Smell it, your grace," he said politely.

Robb rose, and took it from him, and sniffed it just as he had. His companion was right. It didn't smell right. He had never been taught anything of poisons, though he knew what a plum normally smelled like.

"Who…?" Robb started to ask, but he already sensed he knew the answer.

Blackwood pointed at Sybell Westerling, right across from the table. "Do you deny it, my lady?"

"You are accusing me of trying to poison the prince?" She answered, sounding shocked. "On what basis?"

"You gave it to him," Lucas said.

"I did no such thing," she replied. "I am the queen's own mother. I will not be accused of such-"

"-Prove it," Robb said. A few plums had been served, but they were all further down the table. He rolled the plum across the table to Lady Sybel. "Prove you didn't poison it."

"How?" She asked him.

"Eat it,' he told her. "Eat it to prove it's not poisoned.

Robb expected her to run away, or to curse him, or say she was not hungry or to continue to defend herself, but she didn't. Instead she remained dignified as she picked the plum up, and took a bite from it. One small bite followed by another and then another, until it was almost gone.

"Grey Wind, down," he muttered again. Thankfully the wolf did as he was told this time, and got down from the table, while Robb felt Jeyne nervously tug at his arm.

Jeyne's mother set what was left of the plum down, but did not sit down herself. "May I have your leave to retire, your grace?" She asked afterwards. She did not appear ill yet at least, though Robb did not think much of it. Her poison had been no doubt meant to be mistaken for some sickness or another, and had been meant for a small boy as well.

"Aye," Robb said. "You have my leave to return to your chambers, though I will be expecting a word with you later tonight."

"As you say," she said, lifting her skirts up a little, and then she turned to leave. A quiet murmur passed over the Great Hall as she left, and Robb didn't doubt he knew what they were all whispering about.

Robb looked at his children who were sitting next to him. They both were confused by what had just transpired. "Lucas, Dacey," he said, who were both still standing near him. "Take Melantha and Theo back to their chambers and watch over them," he ordered.

"Father…" Melantha started to protest, clearly not happy about it. But before she could say anything, Dacey Mormont had already picked her up, and was carrying her back to her bedchambers.

"Go with them, Grey Wind," Robb ordered his wolf, who looked at him for a moment, and then started off behind them. He remembered how Bran's Summer had saved him from the assassin so long ago. But right now, he had a whole hall of friends to keep him safe.

The Smalljon and the other two Mormont girls moved closer to Robb, filling the seats that had been left open now that the children were gone. Jeyne was speaking with a servant who had come over, inquiring about her mother.

Robb wasn't very hungry anymore, and as the rest of the food came and went, Robb only drank a little wine. It was Dornish Red, and tasted more sour than he had ever tasted. He sat there for another hour, listening to the Blackfish who reported on his most recent scouting, speaking to Jeyne and hoping for some news to come from Winterfell, but there wasn't any.

More and more of those in the hall started to retire for the night, while Robb sat there patiently, waiting. A king needs to be seen, he could almost hear Myrcella telling him. Even when Jeyne retired for the night, he remained.

After a while though, the doors burst open, and Maester Aron came rushing in. "Your grace," he said panting.

"What is it?" Robb asked, though he sensed he already knew the answer.

"It… It's the Queen's mother," he said. "She's dead."

Author Notes:

I did it! Another chapter!

Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, feel free to leave comments and kudos.

Also, a very special thank you to ChillyRavenArt for draw Robb, Myrcella and their kiddos, which you can find here: chillyravenart/art/Robb-x-Myrcella-AU-Commission-911833292

Next stop is Winterfell, but probably not how you think.