Having long since removed his crown, Robb massaged his pulsing temples. Sat on his newly-constructed throne from within the Great Hall, he did his best to stave off the rage that boiled within him, his mother having just revealed the extent of the Bolton's treachery. A part of him was not surprised by it, but still, just the fact of it had him incensed. Taking a calming breath, he looked towards where his mother stood in front of him. The rest of his Lords and commanders were blustering at the Bolton deceit from their seats in the hall behind her.
"Where is Roose Bolton now?" Robb questioned.
"Held at Last Hearth," his mother answered.
"Has there been any word from the Dreadfort?"
"None. It is unclear as to who currently controls the castle."
"And what is Jon's status?"
"Per his raven, he has continued his trek to the Wall," Catelyn answered. "He was unsure of how long it would take for you to make it to Winterfell, and did not wish to delay any longer in his original task. The mountain clans have remained to provide additional security to Last Hearth."
Robb stood from his throne, steadying his breathing. "House Bolton has betrayed the North…betrayed their King and House Stark. I hereby strip House Bolton of all lands and titles. For his crimes, I sentence Roose Bolton to die." Robb paused, looking to his right where Margaery was seated, a hand rested on her stomach. He sighed, already regretting his next words. "On the morrow, I shall assemble a force and march on the Dreadfort. We shall take and secure the castle, with or without force, as needed."
"Robb, you've only just arrived," his mother fretted.
"It must be done," Robb asserted. "I won't leave these traitors to regroup and plot against us, especially with Winter approaching. They have done enough damage as it is."
A throat cleared from the center of the room. The Greatjon stood, and the room fell to silence. "Begging your pardon, your Grace, but Lady Catelyn speaks true. It wouldn't do for our King to miss the birth of his heir. Leave the task to me. I'll be marching that way to get home. We'll remove every last sack of Bolton shit from that castle, and all the north will be better for it."
Robb's first instinct was to decline the Greatjon, but another glance back at his hopeful Queen stifled him. He truly did not wish to strike out again so soon. His body was weary from months of fighting and travel, and there were a plethora of other responsibilities that needed to be seen in preparation for the coming months. It would also not look well to deny the Greatjon and question his ability to see the task done.
Robb, his decision made, nodded. "Lord Umber, I charge you to take the Dreadfort and remove any remnants of the Bolton army. Strip down and burn every flayed man banner. Destroy every relic of that House."
"What of the people?"
"Servants and craftsmen may remain in the castle to see to its maintenance, should they swear loyalty to House Stark. Any Bolton soldier who surrenders peacefully shall be given an option…the Night's Watch or exile. And I don't mean exile out of the north…exile out of Westeros. I will not have them going south and joining our enemies. If neither of those options is acceptable, then you have my orders to execute them for treason."
"And the castle?" Lord Umber inquired.
Robb paused for a moment, considering the best course of action. He'd never had this sort of responsibility, which was essentially bestowing true lordship upon another. There were many options available to him, many who had served him bravely and deserved such an honor. However, there was only one name that he truly considered. Some of his men may consider it nepotistic, but that was his prerogative as King.
Robb proclaimed, "The Dreadfort shall be no more. I pass on all titles, lands, rights, and honors formerly held by House Bolton to my brother, Jon Stark, now Lord Jon Stark. He shall hold this title and it shall pass on to his children after. I shall leave the responsibility re-titling of the castle to its new lord. We shall have a formal ceremony for Lord Stark upon his return." Robb turned and gestured to a serving girl who brought him a cup of wine. He raised it high. "To Lord Stark." A chorus of voices in the hall mimicked his words heartily.
Lord Umber called his attention once more. "Until Lord Stark returns from his duties, who shall see to the management of the castle?"
"As you are leading the forces to retake the castle, I can only see that honor lying with House Umber." Robb turned to where members of his guard were congregating. "Smalljon Umber. You have served me well in my Kingsguard, but I release you from those duties…at least for the near future. You shall serve as castellan of the former Dreadfort until my brother is able to take over management of the castle."
The Smalljon stepped over from where he had formerly been perched and kneeled before his King. "Thank you for this responsibility, your Grace."
Robb laughed lightly. "You thank me now, but it is likely to be much more work than guarding me here in Winterfell." He pulled the Smalljon up from where he knelt and surrendered his still half-full cup to the man, before turning to the room at large. "No more business tonight. It has been a long journey home, and there will be more trials to come. But for tonight, the hospitality of Winterfelll is yours to enjoy."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Robb sighed as the warm bathwater caressed his aching muscles. His head rested back against the tub. Margaery was seated in front of him, lying back against his chest. She moaned lightly as his hands, coated in the scented bath oils, glided over the contours of her rounded belly. He was fascinated by it, both by how much it had grown since they had last been together, and just simply by the thought that their child resided within.
"I wish I had been able to do this every evening over these many months," Robb stated. Leaning forward he placed his lips against his wife's neck.
"I would not have objected."
"How have you been?"
"Not so bad. Tired and hungry most days, but otherwise things have gone smoothly."
"I'm grateful for that," Robb said, his right hand now sliding up to palm Margaery's heavy breast. Just like her stomach, they had grown much since he had last seen her, and he was just as fascinated.
"I have missed you, but it has been nice getting to know your family. They have been very supportive. Sansa follows me around like a puppy, but she is so very sweet."
Robb laughed at the image of Sansa pulling at Margaery's skirts. "You are everything that she has always dreamed of being."
"I think she has matured some. I have delicately tried to disavow her from some of her more fantastical thoughts about the life of a lady. She expects that you are going to arrange a marriage for her soon."
Robb grimaced, hiding his face in Margaery's damp hair. "And I was so relaxed just a moment ago."
"My poor husband," his wife giggled. "It is something you will have to give thought to. You can find a young man who will be a good match for her. There is no reason it must be unpleasant."
"I would never make a match just for political gain. I'll not see my sister unhappy, fuck the consequences."
"Spoken like the best of brothers," Margaery praised. "If you had to propose a name right this moment, who would you say?"
"If I was under the pain of excruciating torture and had to give a name… I would still not do it, but just for the benefit of you at this moment, it would likely be Brynden Blackwood. He is close enough in age to Sansa, and he is heir to Raventree Hall, a respected House, and ally. It would further secure our ties to the Riverlands. I would suggest Lucas, as I know him better, but he is a second son."
"That sounds like politics," Margaery interrupted.
"Maybe, but it is also me knowing what Sansa expects from such a match. If she came to me and told me she preferred Lucas, I doubt I would disagree. My Mother on the other hand…"
"Don't be so cynical, my love."
"It is my lovely Queen's fault for getting me so worked up with this frightening topic."
"Hmm. Well then it must be your Queen's responsibility to relax you again." Margaery slowly slid forward, gripping the sides of the tub as she went. With some effort, she managed to pull herself up to stand. Robb was caught between making sure she did not slip, and watching the droplets of water on her back slither down to her arse. Robb's protective instinct overcame though when she actually tried to step out of the bath. He almost slipped himself when he hastened out of the tub first to guide her out.
"I have done this myself for months, you know," she huffed. Robb practically lifted her out of the bath and onto the floor of their chambers.
"You will have to indulge my worrying. This is new to me and I have many months of it to make up for."
"No more worrying tonight." Without even taking the time to dry herself, Margaery laced her fingers through his and led him over to their bed. Letting him go, she crawled onto the bed, hands and knees dragging her forward. Margaery stopped in the center, looking back over her shoulder at him. "I'm waiting, my King."
Robb shook himself from his stupor, swiftly moving to meet his wife. As he stopped behind her, his hand traveled slowly up from her thigh until dragged along the slick lips of her sex. His fingers pleasured her steadily while his other hand slipped up and down his hardened cock. He delayed only a moment more before he placed the tip of his cock through her folds and sheathed himself fully.
"Fuck," Robb groaned, his body tingling in pleasure as he leaned down over Maraegery's back. His mouth latched onto her neck for a few moments, sucking at her skin before pulling back. His hands gripped onto her plentiful arse, beginning to thrust in and out her sex. While he was mindful of her condition, the arousing moans from his wife told him his forceful thrusts and pace were good for her. He luxuriated in the feeling of being inside his wife for the first time in months. When he felt her walls begin to pulse around his cock, he reached down and took a breast in hand, which caused her to practically howl. His pace quickened, his end approaching, and with final frantic pumps of his hips, he spent inside her.
"Gods did I miss you," Robb groaned, slipping from inside her. He carefully helped to roll Margaery to her side, before laying down across from her. His hand returned to caressing her stomach. "You look even more beautiful like this."
Margaery smiled at him, though he could see exhaustion in her eyes. "Then we shall have to make efforts to keep me in this condition regularly."
Robb brushed his lips against hers. "Only so many times as you would like, love. The burden of it falls on you, not I."
"You are sweet, Robb." She nuzzled herself into his shoulder, her breathing calming. "Welcome home," her final words before drifting into slumber.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He did not know what his expectations had been, but Jon's first glimpse of the Wall far exceeded them. It was an amazing sight and actually lived up to the stories of his youth.
"You really think your ancestors built that to keep free folk out?"
Jon turned and looked at Ygritte, who rode beside him. She raised her brows at him in question. "I have my doubts."
If the Wall itself had exceeded his expectations, Castle Black was the complete, disappointing opposite. It looked to be in a state of disrepair, and Jon was reasonably confident that he could assail it himself with fifty men.
As their force approached the Castle, the gates opened, and several men dressed in black stepped out to meet them. The man in front was the oldest of the group, with hair mostly grey, and had a sour expression on his face.
"I am Ser Alliser Thorne, master-at-arms of Castle Black. What business do you have here?" the black brother questioned, hand resting on his sword.
Jon, dismounting his horse, walked over to stand before the man. "I am Jon Stark. I come at the command of Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Riverlands."
"A false king," Ser Alliser stated.
Jon bristled. "Hold your tongue, Ser. I will not suffer insults against my King and family."
"What is it you want?"
"We have come at the request of your Lord Commander. The King has charged me with reinforcing the Wall and investigating the increase of wildling attacks in the south. I'd like to meet with Lord Commander Mormont if you will lead me to him."
"That won't be possible," Ser Alliser responded.
"Why is that?"
"Because Lord Commander Mormont has not been heard from in months. He led a hundred men beyond the Wall on an expedition and none have since returned."
Jon was shaken by the news. Things were more dire than he had expected. "Who is in charge now?"
"The responsibilities for the castle have fallen to me, the Lord Steward and Maester Aemon."
"And how many men remain in the Castle?" Jon inquired.
"Less than two hundred, but the Lord Commander took most of our best fighters with him beyond the Wall."
"Less than two hundred," Jon repeated. He doubted whether the Night's Watch would last another month from what he could see. "As the condition of the Lord Commander is unknown, I shall see to the security of the Castle and the Wall."
Ser Alliser immediately turned red. "You have no right-,"
"Enough, Ser Alliser," Jon ordered. "I am not here to take over the Night's Watch. I am here to make sure it does not crumble along with the Wall. My duty is not to your pride, but to the thousands of people who live in the south. I expect that we shall have your hospitality."
Ser Alliser looked like he wanted to fight on, but he seemingly managed to restrain himself. "We can accommodate you and your commanders in the Castle, but we don't have the provisions to maintain the rest of your men."
"We've brought provisions with us," Jon assured. "I'll assign men to the defense of the Castle and the Wall, the rest shall set up camp south of the Castle. Should we require more provisions, I shall see that they are secured."
"Very well," Ser Alliser stated. "Shall we tour the defenses?"
"Yes, but first I'd like to meet your Maester. I need to get word back to the King of my arrival."
