*So, as mentioned in the previous chapter, I had always planned for Littlefinger's Demise. I had two reasons for doing it the way that I did; 1) I like to keep my readers guessing. Some things may be obvious, while other's, I try to keep a little mystery. 2) I wanted to tackle Littlefinger from the perspective of the Iron Bank, something we here about a lot, but never actually witness.


Robb Stark

Acting Lord of Winterfell and acting Warden & Lord Paramount of the North

My son, matters have developed very quickly here in the capital. I am safe, for now. But the matter at hand, cannot wait. The succession of the Baratheon Dynasty is not as secure as once thought. Crown Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen are no true royalty, nor Baratheons either. The children are all the product of treasonous incest between Queen Cersei and her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Lord Arryn is contacting your mother and Lord Royce already; Lord Stannis Baratheon is readying the forces of the Crownlands. We still have yet to hear back from Storm's End, though 'tis only a matter of time. It saddens me to say this, but I must now speak to you, not as your father, but as the Hand of the King, issuing a direct command.

Robb Stark, you are hereby ordered to call the banners of the North. You are to march south with as many men as you can rapidly raise. Leave at least five thousand in the North to keep order, I leave it to your discretion to whom this honor of command is given. You are hereby ordered to march south to Riverrun, where the fury of Tywin Lannister will no doubt be felt the strongest. The forces of the Vale, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands shall reinforce the capital, so do not worry 'bout your southern flank.

To accomplish this, you must quickly gain passage over the Twins under House Frey. Do not trust them. But you may be required to trade with them. TRADE ANYTHING NECESSARY TO REACH RIVERRUN.

Bring Edwyle along with you; leave Bran under Luwin and Rodrik, he must be the Stark in Winterfell. My blessings are with you. The Lone Wolf dies, but the Pack Survives

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North, Hand of the King


299 AC

Robb Stark

His mind still reeled from the raven he had just read. Luwin was still standing in front of him, completely ignorant of the change in matters of state. He needed to organize himself, to ensure he would be strong enough to handle this. He reached down to gruffly pet the left ear of Grey Wind.

"Luwin."

"Robb?"

"Call Ser Rodrik, Edwyle, and Bran. Also call Captain Mollen for attendance and Vayon Poole." He ordered as calmly as possible. Ser Rodrik had only gotten back to Winterfell some nights prior. He had informed Robb that his sister Sansa had settled into Starfall nicely 'fore he caught the first ship back for White Harbor.

"My lord?" The maester questioned, confused.

"Do it now!" He shouted, but not out of anger…out of urgency.

"Bran and Rickon?"

"Ah….might as well fetch them too, though I doubt Rickon will understand what is being discussed."

"Shall I also fetch your lady wife?"

"No, I'll go and get her." He stood and followed Luwin out of the study, but whereas Luwin turned right, he turned left to reach his private chambers. Knocking on the door, he entered and stopped for a moment. Dacey, or simply 'Dace' has he has begun to call her, was sitting in a chair, holding young Samsyn from under each of his armpits. Seeing her hold him like that caused him great joy.

"Dace." He got her attention softly.

"Robb." She smiled. It filled his heart with love that she could just smile by seeing him. He knew that their love would only grow. "Robb? Is something wrong?" He must have allowed some emotion through his usual visage.

"Come my love, bring Samsyn. I have called a meeting in my- in my father's solar." He was still getting used to the fact that it was still not yet his own study.

"Very well. Here, help me pick up one of his toys." He bent down and picked up a small, staffed animal that was in the shape of a great stag. It had been a nice gesture, though cheap gift from house Hornwood. Most of their gift was sent along with other houses to the reconstruction of Moat Cailin.

They two of them and their son walked back to the solar. Inside, Luwin had already gathered the others. They formed a great semicircle around the desk. Dace put Samsyn down on the floor to play with young Rickon. Bran was the youngest in attendance still paying attention.

He rounded the desk and sat behind it. Dacey sat to the left of him, on the side length of the table. "Family, friends. I have…news to share."

"What is it?" He heard Edwyle mutter softly.

He breathed a deep sigh. Life will no longer be the same after this. "Father…father has sent a raven. It appears that…well it appears that the Queen has committed treason by laying with her brother the Kingslayer. None of the three children are actually Robert's."

The room was quiet for a moment, the news still sinking into some. Edwyle broke first. "Is this it?"

"Nay, unfortunately not. Father has ordered me to call the banners. He has deduced that once word reaches Tywin Lannister, the Riverlands shall feel the initial fury of the west's armies. He has ordered that I march down to Riverrun as fast as possible."

He reached for a mug of ale, the room still quiet, waiting for him to continue. He turned to the maester. "Luwin, Vayon, join forces and begin writing messages to all the houses of the North, calling the banners. I want every lord here within the month. If they need to press themselves for travel, so be it."

Suddenly everyone in the room straightened their backs, listening to his commanding voice. "In addition, Bran, you shall remain here to serve as the Stark in Winterfell. Luwin, Ser Rodrik, you will remain here as well, to assist Bran in his rule. Dacey, you will remain here."

And he tensed because he knew what was about to come. And then he felt it. A strong punch to his arm. "Ouch!"

"Absolutely not Robb Stark! I will go with you!"

"Dacey! You are the mother of our child, if something were to happen to me, he cannot be parentless!"

"I am not some housewife Robb Stark! I am a shield maiden of the North!" Before he could respond, she huffed and stormed out of the room. "Apologies, I will speak with her later. In the meantime, we must ready ourselves. Edwyle, you will come with me south. Father has ordered us to cross the Twins as soon as possible, if we must exchange with Lord Walder, so be it."

Edwyle, his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, simply nodded in understanding. Robb turned to Bran. "Bran…do you understand why we do this?"

Ever since he had awoken, Bran had become more…solemn. He thought more and listened before he spoke.

"Aye Robb." He said in his soft and light voice.

"Good. You'll have Luwin and Rodrik to assist you…and my wife, hopefully. Until then-" He turned his attention back to the rest of the room. "-Luwin, Bran, you are excused, take Rickon as well. Ser Rodrik, Edwyle, Hallis, stay. We have much to discuss in terms of preparation."

The room emptied 'cept for himself, his brother, and the two highest ranking warriors in Winterfell at the moment.

"Let us organize our forces now. Father commanded that I raise as many men as possible before setting off. However, he has also ordered that at least five thousand remain in the North to keep order and reinforce if needed. Give me your thoughts, which troops stay and go? Who would command the reserve?"

Ser Rodrik bent over and put his hands on the table. "We'll have a better understanding when all the lords arrive, but Houses Umber, Karstark, and Bolton would definitely join the march south."

"Agreed." Edwyle nodded. "In addition to Houses Glover, House Locke, and House Flint will also need to join us."

"Give me your thoughts. I had originally intended to give command of the reserve to Ser Helmen Tallhart. He is close to Winterfell and can easily stay in the castle during our absence."

Both Rodrik and Edwyle grimaced at this. "I would not advice this Robb."

"Why not?"

"For one, House Tallhart is only a masterly house. As much as the North is different to the customs of the South, there would still be a number of those who would chafe being put under the supervision of a mere master of a house."

"Then who instead?"

"I know not yet. But I would advise either Lord Halys or Daryn Hornwood. The House is near extinction, and they are of good stock and would be relatively safe. Lord Gregor Forrester would be another good option."

"That would mean we would leave House Reed, House Forrester, House Hornwood, and the Mountain Clans in the North. How many men is that?" He turned to Ser Rodrik who in turn looked at his notes.

"Roughly three thousand my lord."

"Hmm. Not enough. If we leave House Whitehill and House Dustin, that should raise the number to four thousand. Who else?"

"That might be enough. We could leave some of the host of House Stark here as well. You know as well as I do that besides the one thousand-strong Winterfell Honor Guard, House Stark can still raise thousands more from our own demesne. Leave a couple thousand here. This way, House Stark will still have the greatest number of troops total in the North…to discourage any thoughts of subversion from our vassals." Edwyle commented.

"That is not a bad idea actually. With Houses Umber, Karstark, Bolton, Manderly, Locke, and Flint of Widow's Watch, the number of the host would be roughly seventeen thousand strong. Let us leave about two thousand more of our own host here, thereby we would still bring five thousand troops with us. Adding this to the lords' host, the entire army will number twenty-two thousand strong. And this is just the footmen. We can keep the cavalry of House Karstark and Bolton in the North to give them peace of mind. House Ryswell, contributing no footmen, will send their entire host of cavalry with us. Alongside of the horse of House Manderly and Cerwyn, we'll have four thousand horses."

Edwyle cut in. "Thereby bringing the total number to twenty-six thousand soldiers. Four thousand being horse."

Hallis Mollen spoke for the first time. "What about the horse of House Stark's personal host?"

"We'll keep them here. House Karstark and Bolton can be…well both can be ambitious. And while I do not assume anything, we must not allow their strong cavalry forces to be unchallenged. All three thousand horse of House Stark shall remain in the North, along with some of the footmen as discussed."

"Should we have House Dustin join us in the South? Orvyn Dustin is currently on his way to Winterfell. I hope he and Bran can be fast friends." Edwyle asked.

"Yes…I am still suspicious of Lady Barbrey…very well. They can keep their footmen, but I will have her send her horse to ride south with us as well."

"Very well. That still leaves two decisions. One, who to give command in the North, and who to give command of the van to. I assume you and I will lead the main column?" Edwyle spoke.

"Aye, you and I shall. The mountain clans, for all their bravery and skill will not be given command, they do not hold a high regard for organized battle. House Hornwood or House Forrester shall be given the command. House Reed would be one option, but I want their full attention on the Neck, protecting it."

Ser Rodrik cut in. "Lord Gregor Forrester is a good man, and true. But he was always better at battle. Oh I'd take him in a heartbeat. But I think Lord Robb, that you know this command of the reserve will take more than just fighting skill. Lord Halys Hornwood is quite good at logistics. I would advise he be given the command."

Robb looked around the table. Ser Rodrik was looking at him. Hallis seemed out of his element, and Edwyle merely shrugged. "Very well. Once the lords assemble, I'll announce that Lord Halys Hornwood will be appointed as Marshal of the North."

"Marshal?" Edwyle asked.

"Aye brother, you are not the only one who reads our history. The Kings of old, much like the small council, held their own council once. The Marshal of the North was once given the authority of the kingdom in the absence of the King. I felt it necessary to give some title to him."

"As for the van, I am of a mind to appoint Lord Glover. Though we march to war, we must still yet cross the Twins, and I do not want the wrong message sent should a man like the Greatjon or Roose Bolton be given command. We need to speak with them, not conquer them."

Edwyle nodded approvingly, but Ser Rodrik held a confused face.

"What troubles you Ser?"

"I apologize Robb, but I have difficulty understanding the lines of command while you are away."

"Ultimately, as the oldest capable Stark in Winterfell, Bran will have the final voice on all matters. Luwin will assist him as will you. You will have command of the Stark troops that will remain here. Lord Hornwood will have command of the reserve but will ultimately answer to Bran. While I understand it is confusing, think of it this way: in a pure military sense, you would be answering to Lord Hornwood, but as you would also be one of the two protectors of Bran, you would have quite the voice and authority. If you two disagree on a military matter, you only have to convince Bran of it, and he will ensure your authority."

Ser Rodrik nodded, but he still seemed a little confused. "And what of me, my lord?" Hallis asked.

"You will remain here. Ser Rodrik will have command of the Stark host; you will have personal command over the remaining Honor Guard. Much of the Stark host will be used to defend the North, but your one and only role will be to defend my family. Consider you and your men separate from the troops."

"Very well my lord."


Edwyle Stark

Gods it had been a tiring month. With the orders from father, Robb had spent the entire time in meetings with him and others, organizing the army and finalizing matters as well. Robb had spoken to his wife. The exact words was unknown to him, but eventually Robb had managed to convince Dacey to remain. Apparently he had to relent some authority to her though. Instead of Luwin or Rodrik, Dacey would be Bran's sole protector, the other two would still serve as close advisors.

But now, that was a memory of a fortnight ago. Now was a different time. Before the walls of Winterfell was a sea of men and tents. Fires dotted the landscape to keep warm in the cold winds of the North. Most of the Lords had already arrived, the last ones yet to were Lady Maege, his brother's goodmother, and Lord Greatjon Umber. Both Bear Island and Last Hearth were far to the North and required a great time to travel.

Robb had elected, much to the displeasure of some lords, to delay the first meeting until the last two lords had arrived. It shouldn't be too long regardless, both parties are expected to arrive within the day.

Until then, he decided to check in with some of his warriors. Ever since he had been appointed the acting master-at-arms for Winterfell, he had something of a following. He was an excellent warrior and he taught many of the younger men who had joined. Even Arya too.

Gods…Arya. When she had found out about the matter, Robb nearly had to go to the maester after the blows inflicted by Arya were done. She had shouted and wailed and screamed. Not for them to stay of course. No…she wanted to come with them. It was after that denial by Robb that she exploded into a fit of anger.

Edwyle was never one to discount someone merely based on whether or not they had a cock or not. Arya was quite good with smaller blades he had found out. But battle…war, that was a different matter entirely. It was difficult to explain to her. She needed to stay not because she was girl, but because of her age…and her attitude.

He'd admit that he was excited somewhat for the future. Perhaps he would make history for him and his cadet branch. Yet after his and Robb's brush with death when they were younger, he had a much more matured view of fighting. Arya, for all her enthusiasm. Would more than likely make things worse for them, her youthful vigor would have her charge forth into an enemy, not realizing it might be a trap.

He and Robb had always been amused by her antics and approved of her wishes. But after over an hour of Arya's bellyaching, he had seen Robb do something he had never seen.

Robb had shouted at Arya. Truly, he raised his voice and hardened his eyes, and loomed over their sister. It was only for a moment, and he only shouted her name, but Robb had evidently seen the last of his patience. He and Robb had always tried to make excuses for her. Much as father had done, to protect her brothers, but it had been time for her to mature.

Just because she had the wolf's blood, did not mean she had free reign over all her decisions. Robb had offered no excuse, no differing way of thinking about her circumstances. He had steadily, yet forcefully explained that Arya would remain in Winterfell, or she would scrape all the dirt off the walls of Winterfell…on the outside…in the middle of winter no less.

Arya had pouted, but the message had gotten through. In many ways, unseen 'til now, Arya was always spoilt. Perhaps not in the same way of Sansa, but in her own way. She was granted years of doing things her own way, and Robb finally had to open her to the true ways of the world. She may not like it, and it may not be fair, but eventually she'd need to marry to create alliances. It was disheartening to see her deflate, but it was better now, then later.

Arya Stark was one of only two daughters of a powerful and influential Lord Paramount. To be candid, her fate was never going to be in her own hands. Cruel, aye, but the truth. She was simply too important to be left to her own devices.

"Riders!"

His attention was grabbed at the shouting of the guards atop the gate. Scrambling up the walls, he gazed hard, and looked through a Myrish far-eye. The party held the banners of a chained giant and bear. It seems the Umbers and Mormonts traveled together.

The party of about two dozen thundered into the courtyard. Robb had already been called and he himself was just next to him. The tallest man in miles got off his horse and bowed before Robb.

"Mi' lord. I, Jon of House Umber, answer the call to Winterfell. This here's mi' own wee lad. Jon!" The tall and boisterous man swung his arm 'round the neck of another quite tall man, who merely groaned at the action. The man expertly parted himself from his father's arms to introduced himself.

"Lord Robb, Lord Edwyle. I am Jon Umber. You can call me the Smalljon to ease any confusion."

"My lords of Umber, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Robb? Robb! Where's Dacey! Where's my grandbaby?!"

Edwyle heard the Smalljon mutter amusingly under his breathe.

"Lady Mormont." Robb gave his best smile. "Always a pleasure."

She waved him off. "Ah, yes, yes. You as well goodson. Now! Where is my baby!"

Robb gestured for her to follow. He himself escorted the Umbers to their chambers for the duration of the stay. He led them through the halls and passageways of the keep.

"My lords. My brother shall hold our council of war this evening, during the feast. Please let a servant know if you need anything."

"Thank you mi' lord."

Edwyle turned, and with his mind still running, decided to let out some frustration in the tiltyard.


It had been some hours since the last party arrived. Lady Mormont had been playing with his nephew for the entire time, showing a softer side than even he had expected. But now, many of the lords of the North filed into the great hall of the central keep. There were many tables filled with some of the more minor lords and senior, non-noble warriors and other individuals. Other tables held many of the heirs to the lordships. But the hall was rearranged so that many of the front tables were pushed together so as to accommodate many of the lords at a single table. His brother Robb sat at the head of the table. Grey Wind was sitting lazily to his left. Just to the right of Robb, he found himself sat on the other side, directly opposite of him, was their younger brother Bran. Even though he would not be joining them on the march south, Robb thought it best to have him there any way, to get him used to these events.

Next to him and Bran were some of the most influential and powerful lords of the North. Directly to his right sat none other than Rickard Karstark. Bran had the misfortune of sitting right next to Roose Bolton, thankfully the pallid and pale man seemed more interested in the other lords around the table. at the very end, completely opposite of Robb, sat the Greatjon.

His brother called out. "My lords. My lords!" The hall silenced. "My lords, the banners of the North have been called. My father has ordered the might of the North to march down and reinforce the Riverlords."

"Why should we risk me and mine for those fish?" Lord Karstark shouted out. Edwyle turned his entire body to face the long-bearded man. He said nothing but affixed an unblinking gaze on the old man. His face was neither angered nor annoyed, but he kept it flat. His father had taught he and Robb about the 'Stark Eye's.' Robb in turn decided to speak on their behalf. "Those 'fish' as you call them…are my mother's family." Robb spoke slowly. "Watch your words Lord Karstark."

The old man, old enough not to be intimidated by Edwyle's own stare, was suitably rebuked and simmered down. "Apologies mi' lord."

"We must also keep a sizable force in the North, to keep order and reinforce us should it be necessary." He turned to Lord Hornwood. "Lord Hornwood. You are of a proud and ancient house. I would leave you, and your son, and have you take up this command. You'd be based here in Winterfell until the end of this campaign."

Lord Hornwood looked like he was caught between a rock and…well another rock. On one hand, this could be interpreted by the lord that Robb had no confidence in him, but on the other, it would be a high honor if it was meant truly. He turned back to Robb with his decision.

"You honor me, mi' lord. I humbly accept."

"Good. I know the North will be safe in your hands. Let it be known now that I grant you the title of Marshal of the North."

Immediately after he finished, the mutterings of the table grew louder. Robb simply held his hand high to call for silence. "Calm yourselves my lords. This will only be a temporary post. After this debacle in the South, the title shall revert back to House Stark. I only need a strong, centralized leadership here, behind us."

Robb turned and addressed the rest of the table again. "I shall march south alongside my brother, Edwyle. Lords Karstark, Bolton, Ryswell, along with the majority of our other forces including those of Lady Mormont, shall march with me and Edwyle. Lord Galbart Glover shall lead the van consisting of forces from House Glover, as well as House Dustin and Locke."

"For thirty years I've been making corpses out of men boy! I'm the man you want leading the vanguard!" Lord Umber, the Greatjon shouted out from the other side of the table. The talk from other tables continued uninterrupted, but the main table had fallen quiet.

Robb calmly responded. "Galbart Glover will lead the van."

"The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover! I…will lead the van. Or I will take my men and march them home."

Edwyle could see Robb strengthen his eyes. The lords on either side looked back and forth between the two. Lady Mormont kept her eyes on her goodson.

"You are welcome to do so Lord Umber." Robb held an icy tone to his voice. He stood, and put his hands on the table, looking the Greatjon directly into the eyes. "And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back north, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oath breaker."

The Greatjon employed a great scowl. "Oath breaker is it?!" He slapped a chalice off the table and stood from his stool. The rest of the hall fell silent. "I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!"

Edwyle stood and reached for his pommel. Unfortunately, not as fast as the Greatjon did. But before anyone else could do anything, a blur of grey flashed across the table. In the blink of an eye, Grey Wind had leapt atop the table and pounced on the Greatjon. The tall Umber was on the ground screaming as Grey Wind slowly backed up, his nose and mouth colored red.

Edwyle turned and noticed that Robb had not reacted in any way. "My lord father taught me that is was death to bare steel against your liege lord. Doubtless…the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

The Greatjon kicked his stool away from himself. "Your meat…" He looked around and saw he was outnumbered. "…is bloody tough." He commented, amusingly, still clutching his bloodied hand.

The Greatjon then let out hearty laugh, followed by some other lords who joined in from the uncomfortable silence. Soon the entire hall was laughing. He turned and looked at Robb. He met his eyes.

And they both knew their own laughs, were as fake as they come.


*Bare with me! I know this may feel a little too slow, but I guarantee that within a few more chapters, 2-3 (at the most) we will get into the motion of the ocean.