Chapter Twenty-Two

The northern wolves

Rob

Rob Stark was walking the battlements when he received word of a letter from the capital bearing his father's seal. It had been a long while since word had been received and he hoped his father had some words of guidance on winning the war. Battle's Rob had trained for and had excelled at, but the nuances of war were something else. His supply chain was slowing, and he didn't know how to win the war through the politicking his father was doing in the capital. For all he was a man grown he still had a lot to learn.

Rob quickly opens the letter and eagerly reads the words but his face falls into a scowl the longer he looks at the parchment in his hands. His father had called a truce. He was still supporting the incest bastard that sat upon the throne. Rob knew that his father did not know the truth, he couldn't, Ned Stark was famous for his honour, and he wouldn't stand for the wrong person ruling the realm. Rob turned to the waiting maester and said "call the lords. I must speak with them."

As Rob strode to the great hall his anger grew. His father knew he was fighting the Lannister's, Stark men were dying fighting them and his father wanted to end it with just a letter. People must be manipulating him. He had written to his father the truth of Joffrey's birth and he still didn't believe it. There was nothing to do except to go to king's landing himself, with the kingslayer in tow and have him confess to his father as he did to him.

As he sat himself on the chair placed at the front of the hall, he thought about how the lords would take the news. He knew he would be met with anger and disbelief as this was not how the north solved conflicts, it was through battle and the old ways not through agreements and pacts. It had all changed with his grandfather sending his father to the vale to foster and organise betrothals below the neck. The lords of the north however had long memories and preferred the old ways to anything southern. It was one of the things Rob wanted to change when he became the lord of Winterfell. When he was younger, he had often heard people scoffing on his mother and father's choices and he himself had been on the end of many a barbed comment, being more Tully looking and being born in the south.

When the lords and ladies of the north began filing in Rob stayed quiet and remained so as the mumbling between lords continued. Finally, once Lord Bolton decided to arrive Rob stood.

"Lord's and Ladies of the north. I have received word from my father in the capital. He has declared peace with the Lannister's, and we are to stop immediately." Rob was forced to stop as shouts of protest erupted from all sides. He let it continue for several moments until he heard someone call his father a 'soft, southern cunt.'.

"My lords. Stop this racket. He is still your lord and my father. I believe he is operating on false information, nothing else makes sense." He paused as he saw everyone realise the same thing. "I will be going to King's Landing personally, with the Kingslayer, and we can inform my father of the truth. In my absence you are to hold. A truce is a truce after all but be ready for any Lannister attacks, we may hold our word, but those bastards will not."

Straight after the meeting, in which it ended with arguing who was in charge after he left, Rob walked down to the dungeons where Jamie Lannister had been languishing since his capture. Rob's nose wrinkled at the smell, but he tried not to show any discomfort, with a man like Jamie Lannister you could show no weakness lest they pick up on it and exploit it.

"Kingslayer." Rob greeted him.

"Wolf pup." The weak voice came from the dark corner where Rob could mistake the man for a pile of rags.

"What's wrong with him?" Rob asked the guards.

"He's got a rotting wound." One replied.

"Go get me a maester. Now." Rob demanded.

It was only a few moments until the maester arrived and Rob paced frustrated as he waited for the kingslayer to be examined.

"Well? Will he live? Can he travel?" Rob immediately asked as the maester straightened up.

"It doesn't look good, my lord. If I had been called earlier, I would have said yes but to save him but now he would need care around the clock, and I am but one man." The maester said grimly.

"Then we will get more maester's. We need him healthy." Rob stalked off.

Arya

Arya Stark was the filthiest she had ever been. Her journey through the country had left her covered in many layers of filth and grime. At some point she had caught lice and had been made to take needle to her hair in order to be rid of them. It was growing back now but was still patchy and longer in some places than others.

Arya spent her time focused on hiding and listening to others so she could guess where she was. Luckily from the accents she knew she was in the Riverland's but as to how close she was to Riverrun she had no idea. She had survived so far by hunting in the forests and occasionally stealing from market stalls when her stomach hurt too much to cope with.

Arya was travelling through the forests one day when she had first heard the howl of wolves. For a moment it had scared her. She was a young girl after all but then something tickled in her mind and she immediately felt at ease. 'Nymeria.' She thought. Quickly she rushed towards the sound forgetting to be quiet and was soon deep into the dark forest.

The hairs on Arya's neck stood up on end and prickled, she could feel eyes upon her. She turned in a circle her hand upon needle as she saw several sets of glowing eyes emerge from the trees circling her.

"Nymeria." Arya called. "It's me."

The growling didn't stop. She tried again. "Nymeria. It's me Arya."

The large wolf emerged from the woods and Arya was truly shocked at what she saw. Nymeria was as large as a war horse and twice as wide. She looked terrifying. There was blood staining her muzzle and she saw no sense that Nymeria recognised her in the wild looking eyes. Nymeria was truly gone to her. Arya pulled needle out of her sheath, but it was too late, a paw larger than her head came fast and knocked Arya around the head sending her sprawling to the forest floor.

Pain erupted behind her eyes, and she could feel the warm rush of blood dripping down her face. She blindly swung needle, desperate to ward off any more blows. She must have hit something as she felt her sword connect and a whine of pain. It must have scared the pack off as she heard running and then it was silent.

Arya lay there for she didn't know how long clutching needle scared the wolves would be back, she thought of Nymeria as a wolf pup drinking milk from Arya's own hand. She couldn't blame Nymeria really; she had run her off throwing stones at her after the altercation with Joffrey.

When she felt comfortable and the air around her grew dark and she knew she would have to move soon, she started to try and wipe the blood from her face but no matter how hard she scrubbed she couldn't get the blood from her left eye. It was dark.

Please let me know if you enjoy this. I'm trying different ways but I do plan on finishing this story.

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