The Undefeated Champion

"I'll be back before you know it," he had said to Melantha, lifting her off the ground and giving her a kiss. When he set her back down on the dry ground, she seemed a little happier. "Take care of your siblings for me while I'm gone."

Melantha had grinned. "I will, father."

If there was one way to get his oldest child to do what she was told, it was giving her some amount of responsibility, she rather liked that. Just like how he had fashioned her the title of being his own personal cupbearer, allowing her to witness and attend councils with him. He had taken her hand. "Listen to anything Jeyne tells you to do, and don't sneak off. Can you promise me that you'll do that?"

She gave an affirming nod, then put a free hand on her heart. "I promise I'll be good."

He let go of her hand. "I'll see you soon."

Robb had turned and walked away, watching Melantha go back to join Jeyne and her siblings and step-siblings in the castle, while he made his way to his horse. Several days had passed now, and Robb was still no closer to being home than before. He had left his children behind at the Crag, with Jeyne, their protectors, their caretakers, two maesters and more to take care of them, but he knew it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. Not if he didn't ever return to them.

Now Robb was standing in his tent, listening to the rain gently beating down upon them. Grey Wind was there, resting in a corner of the tent. Night had fallen, and Robb had decided against holding a council that night. Instead he sat looking over a map, with young Rollam there too.

"Your grace…" the boy finally said after a little while, "what is going to happen?"

Robb sighed, "The Lannisters are marching, and we're marching too," he said to oversimplify things."We plan on beating them where they're marching to."

Rollam raised an eyebrow. "There's going to be a battle? With Lord Tywin?"

When Olyvar had been his squire, Robb had been able to confide in him frequently with this sort of stuff, and Olyvar had a fairly good memory to track what was happening and the mind to understand it and even offer his own suggestions from time to time. With Rollam though, Robb and Raynald had been in agreement that it was best to keep him away from his war councils, so the boy was left ignorant. "Not Lord Tywin," he answered. "Come here, sit, Rollam."

The boy was obedient. "I know where we are on the map."

"Good," Robb said, "and you know the castles that I hold, don't you? Here in the west anyway, not in the Riverlands or the North."

It took Rollam just a second. "Ashemark, Sarsfield, Nunn's Deep and… well, home."

"Very good," he praised. He decided to start by just explaining the war in a bit greater detail. "When the war broke out, Lord Tywin began invading the Riverlands with two armies. The first was commanded by his son, the Kingslayer- the one your father was fighting in, and the second one he commanded himself. The Kingslayer beat my uncle and his bannermen in a pair of battles, then advanced and laid siege to Riverrun, while Lord Tywin began bringing his host around much further south, until they had taken Harrenhal and were marching up the Kingsroad." He drank a little bit from his cup of wine, since his mouth was a little dry before he continued. "When I came from the south, everyone was expecting that I would march south on the Kingsroad, take on Lord Tywin, and ignore my uncle and grandfather's castle being under siege. But instead, I split my army at the Twins, taking most of my cavalry west to deal with the Kingslayer's siege, while the bulk of my force continued south under the command of Roose Bolton."

"The Freys are the one who got really angry at you, weren't they?" Rollam asked.

"They were." Robb was a little bit surprised to find out the boy really understood what had happened there. "Roose Bolton lost the Battle of the Green Fork, but I beat the Kingslayer and his men twice, first in the Whispering Wood, then in the Camps. I broke the siege, rallied the rest of the Riverlands and broke the Kingslayer's host." It had been a little bit of time since he had last thought of those two victories, but he felt a little bit of pride in reflection. My war seemed hopeless before then too, yet we managed. We'll manage now. "We captured your father in the second of those battles. But after that, we got word of my father's execution, and I was crowned king."

Rollam frowned. "Why did they make you king, your grace? Why not someone else?"

"We didn't have any good options," Robb said. And the Greatjon was getting tired of us not coming any closer to a solution. He didn't want to explain the intricate nuances of why they hadn't been able to declare for any of the other kings, so he left it at that. "Once I became king, Lord Tywin retreated to Harrenhal, Roose Bolton reformed his host further north, and I… decided to begin my campaign here. Ser Stafford Lannister was raising a host at Oxcross, so I attacked him there, before he was expecting it. Grey Wind showed me a secret way west, after we'd beaten some remnants of the Kingslayer's host at the Stoney Sept, then we attacked under cover of darkness."

His squire seemed to have a sense for the rest. "Then you started attacking more. You attacked Sarsfield, Ashemark, Nunn's Deep and our castle…"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but yes," he agreed. "Now Lord Tywin is finally coming west- but he's not here yet. The army that we're fighting is different. Ser Forley Prester had the largest gathering of the Kingslayer's surviving host, and they formed at the Golden Tooth. The other is Ser Daven Lannister, the son of Ser Stafford, who has the remnants of the army we defeated at Oxcross. They're marching against us though, to Castamere." They had already killed or captured nearly fifty of their scouts or outriders according to the Blackfish, but the Lannisters still didn't suspect anything, owing to the fact that they had known raids in the area and a high amount of banditry. Earlier that day, Lord Rickard had taken two different mills, and as far as they were aware, Robb hadn't mobilized his entire army, but simply sent Lord Rickard on raids further to the south.

Rollam considered it for a moment. "So… you're going to take them by surprise?"

"Naturally." In all of his battles, he'd relied on some degree of surprise or catching his opponents while they were unprepared- this wouldn't be any different. They had a hundred men stationed within the Ruins of Castamere itself, various traps laid out to create disarray and confusion as the Lannister host first began to arrive, and before they had finished dealing with that, Robb and his men would emerge from the forest and descend the hill, riding into the castle and destroying the host that would be in disarray. He wouldn't divulge those specifics to the boy though- at least not until afterwards. "Do you have anything to say to that?"

The boy had an odd look on his face. "Can I go with you, your grace?"

"Into battle?" Robb had to stifle a laugh. "Your brother would skin me alive if I put you at risk like that." He figured it would be Raynald who would be angriest about it. Jeyne would probably be more frightful about it than anything else, and he didn't know the rest of the family well enough to feel confident in judging what they would do.

"But I'm your squire," Rollam Westerling pointed out, "squires fight in battle."

"You're my squire, yes, but you're also ten," he reminded. "One day you'll be able to fight at my side in battle, but not in this one." Truth was, he had only been calling his good-brother a squire for now, but once he found an actual squire, he would likely retitle the boy as a page, since that was what he actually was. "I think it's time for bed, Rollam."

Robb went about a usual routine of undressing himself and getting ready for the night. Rollam slept on the opposite side of the tent, while Robb felt Grey Wind crawl into bed not long after he'd laid down. He fell asleep with his hand on the wolf's snout, and his dreams brought him back to the day that they had found him.

"What did my father want?" he asked Myrcella as she walked into the bedroom. Previously he'd been reading to Melantha and Eddard, who were sitting in his lap, while Theo was asleep in his cradle. "Is it something from the south?"

"It is," Myrcella said, a little bit worried. "Jon Arryn is dead, and my father is coming. He's coming here." Once she had sworn there was no chance her father would ever come to Winterfell, even to oversee their wedding. Robb had met the King on two prior occasions. The first time when his father had taken him to King's Landing when he was ten; father needed to make a trip to the capitol after he had banished Ser Jorah Mormont, to speak with Lord Arryn about it. His parents thought it was wise to let him be introduced to the princess he was betrothed to, and to see the court in King's Landing too, though it ultimately ended up being that the princess had come home with them. The second time had been after he and Myrcella were married. They had been ordered to present themselves at court after their wedding, though Myrcella had insisted on delaying until she was with child, just to make sure that there was no way their marriage could be broken. On neither occasion had he come to have a good impression of King Robert.

"You don't think it's about us, do you?" Robb wondered. Both Melantha and Eddard had become unrestful in his lap, which he couldn't decide if it was due to their mother's angst or the fact that he wasn't reading to them.

"Well… your father suspects mine just wants to spend some time with him in the wake of Lord Arryn's death. I think there's more though, since if the King goes, his court follows. Which means my family will be coming too, my mother, my uncles, my siblings, all of them- hey!" She stormed over to Theo's cradle and snatched the boy up. Robb had set the boy to sleep with the direwolf pup he'd gotten earlier that day, and upon discovering this, Myrcella seemed furious.

"What?" he asked. "They were sleeping better together."

"It's a direwolf, Robb." Myrcella must have seen the two children looking at her then. "Oh I have a story for you two," she said, raising her voice to a higher pitch. "Father's just going to go talk to grandmama and grandpapa, and then he'll be right back."

Is that so? Robb could see the look in her eyes which told him there was no chance she was going to let him stay. "Alright, grumpkins, come on."

He found his mother and father sitting in father's solar. They were writing a letter to his younger brother, Willam it seemed, inviting him to come home in advance of King Robert's journey north. Father was doing the writing, while mother added a few suggestions here and there. "Ah, there you are, Robb," his mother said, looking up with a smile.

"Myrcella told me the King is coming here," he began so they wouldn't have to rehash what he already knew. "She told me about it before she sent me here."

His father nodded. "There's more to discuss than just that. You can sit with us…"

Robb went along with his father's offer, and took a seat at the table with them. "If the King is coming, that means his court is too, right?"

"Indeed." With father still writing the letter, it seemed his mother would be the one to do most of the talking. "I know that we still have time, Robb, but we need to make certain you understand… when the royal court visits, the children need to be on good behavior. It was a little different when you and Myrcella took Melantha to visit King's Landing… she was still a baby."

"I know." Regardless of that, instilling proper behavior in Melantha was like trying to teach a dog to sing. "Are you thinking the King might bestow Eddard and Theo with princely titles?"

His mother pondered the thought. "It's not an impossibility… I don't recall us getting word of any betrothals for the younger royal children yet. Most likely not, but it is a good thought, Robb."

Then father looked up. "When the king comes, Robb, it is probable the children will need to be relocated to your room with Myrcella. If Maester Luwin's estimates of how many might follow with King Robert are correct…"

"That sounds fine." He and Myrcella had not been making love as frequently as they had been since Theo's birth, in part because of what his mother had told him; that he needed to give her time to recover. So it wasn't too uncommon that he or Myrcella would end up sleeping with at least one of their children, if not all three some nights.

Both his mother and father now were looking at him with hardened expressions. "When the king comes," his mother began to say, "it's not just your little ones that people will have eyes on though."

Father began to take over, "They'll be watching you, Robb. You're the heir, one day to rule Winterfell and all the North, and married to a princess. There's a great deal that comes with that."

Robb nodded. Since he had been young, his father had taught him as much as possible about being the Lord of Winterfell. Now is the time when that will matter. "I understand, father."

His mother's expression softened just a bit. "I know you do, Robb."

The conversation had gone on, but he did not dream it, for he was awakened by a horn blowing. He was in his tent, with Grey Wind laying next to him, and Rollam, as the horn blew again.

"Your grace, what's happening?" Rollam Westerling asked as he stirred.

We've been taken by surprise. "Battle."

Rollam went white. "Battle… now?"

Robb found himself thinking about young Lyman Darry, a boy who at his mother's behest, he had taken on as a ward. Like Lyman, Rollam had also been asked to be taken into battle, though when they found out what had happened to the Darry men after they retook his family's castle, the boy had been full of fury, and swore to avenge them, while Rollam seemed to actually be scared by the thought of battle. "Indeed," he agreed, "we have a battle now."

Because Robb was wearing clothes he'd been sleeping in, getting dressed was a little easier than usual. He donned his breastplate, chausses, boots and cloak before heading outside, to where his horse was already waiting. It was still raining as he took the horse's reins and mounted it, while Rollam offered Robb his helm. "May the Warrior give you strength," said the boy.

"Stay here, Rollam," he said in response. The boy handed Robb his steel lance.

"May the Warrior give you strength," said the boy, and at that, Robb spurned his horse forward, riding through the camp, with Grey Wind at his side.]

Men were already mustering in their tents, trying to figure out what was going on, as Robb rode past. The warhorns were there to signal for them to wake up and prepare for battle, but that was all they could do right now.

They need orders, Robb thought to himself.

The Blackfish and a few others were waiting for Robb, a little further out than the camp, where the men were mustering and preparing themselves. "Your grace," a couple of them said in unison as he walked in, bowing their heads.

"Did our trap work?" Robb asked.

Ser Brynden shook his head. "Not as we needed it to," he said. "They decided to use a night march to arrive at Castamere when it was not expected… we can only judge the impacts when we get there."

Robb nodded. Part of why they had chosen to lay a trap like this was the fact that Castamere as an old ruin was not the most defensible structure anymore. Their men could hide and create chaos, but largely withdraw easily, and the Lannisters would not be at much of an advantage when they finally charged at the castle. Inside were archers, and several of the old ruined towers being rigged to collapse, to pick off their men when they were not expecting it, though it was not going to guarantee victory.

Lord Galbart Glover spoke up then. "Last night, your grace, we expanded our trap, without your consultation. We hid men in the bushes surrounding the castle, gave them more to keep busy with."

"That's good…" Robb said. He felt stupid now for ordering the recall of their scouts and outriders the day before, when they finally heard that the Lannisters would be within a day's march of Castamere. It was not that they would be caught by surprise by this, but that they had lost their own element of surprise that they had wanted. "Are the reports of their strength true?"

"They seem to be," replied the Blackfish, "can't say for certain though… only a few men from the castle and the surrounding area have gotten back to us. They have more cavalry than we thought."

Robb looked up at them. "We face them then," he said. If they had cavalry too, Robb's men had an advantage.

Lord Galbart urged caution. "Your grace, perhaps we would be wiser to fall back to the Crag. Find a new favorable ground to face them on."

"No," Robb said, shaking his head. "They're not going to extend themselves any further than Castamere until Tywin comes. It's now or never." To his mind, it would only give the Lannisters a greater position if they retreated now and had to launch an assault at a later time.

His great-uncle nodded. "Prester and Lannister are no fools. They don't mean to directly attack us. We have to attack them."

Just in a way that will allow us to win. "I would have hoped for better weather, but it must be tonight." It had been raining all night, which would not be good for their horses, nor was the fact that they had to wake up in the middle of the night. Ser Daven Lannister and Ser Forley Prester would have as good a chance as any to give Robb his first defeat. "The Greatjon will lead the van with a thousand men, Ser Brynden will have the left, Lady Maege will take the right with half a thousand each, and I'll have the center with a thousand myself."

"Who will have the rear?" Lord Galbart asked.

"You will, my lord," Robb answered without hesitation. "You'll have the rear."

Lord Galbart nodded. "As you command, your grace." Others, like the Greatjon or Lord Karstark might have taken offense to being given command of the rear, but not Lord Galbart Glover. He wasn't truly a lord, but the Master of Deepwood Motte, and the Glovers were hardly among those Robb would count as the most powerful in the North. Despite that, Lord Galbart had proven most dependable, even with his castle being among the few seized by the Ironmen, and for that, he was grateful.

"We'll send arrows down first, from the top of the hill, and then we'll charge. It won't take long for them to break against our steel lances," he announced. "We'll press them as they scatter, and pursue them all the way back to Castamere."

Mormont, Glover and Umber all approved of the plan, and even Ser Brynden didn't show any signs that he disliked the plan. It wouldn't be a great victory like the Whispering Wood or Oxcross, but it would be a victory all the same.

"When the men are ready, we strike."

It took the better part of an hour for the rest of the men to prepare. Five thousand they were, all mounted, with a couple hundred archers as well, seasoned and experienced with over half a dozen battles to their credit. The same men who had fought for him at the Whispering Wood and the Camps and Stoney Sept and Oxcross. The ones who had stormed Ashemark and Nunn's Deep and Sarsfield and the Crag.

Grey Wind stayed by Robb's side, surrounded by his company of highborn companions. At the Whispering Wood, they had numbered thirty, but now that number had dwindled to half that. Ser Wendel Manderly and Ser Perwyn Frey were off in the south with his mother, two of the Mormont girls, Rogar Wull and Ser Ramon Manderly were still at the Crag, guarding his family, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark as well as Daryn Hornwood had died at the Kingslayer's sword at the Whispering Wood, Theon Greyjoy had betrayed him and the rest of the Freys who had been among his party were all gone too. After seeing the mess that Hornwood's death had caused, Robb had made sure that any of his companions whose death could cause a succession crisis were kept safely hidden away in the rear guard or at Riverrun too, which had depleted the guard even more, with the only addition being that of Jeyne's brother, Ser Raynald Westerling, who was the royal standard bearer.

It took them several more minutes to get to the top of the hill, where from they had a vantage of Castamere and the lands below. The rain had picked up again as they rode, drenching Robb and leaving him shivering a little from the cold, but by now as they got to the hill, it had stopped. As his men began to get into formation, he had the opportunity to look down on their foes below at the bottom of the hill.

He could not pick out either Ser Daven or Ser Forley among their force, but he did see a wall of shields and spears that would be waiting for them. Their cavalry made up the middle and rear, while their front lines were composed entirely of infantry, which was smart, though in the chaos, they hadn't been able to dig any trenches or pits.

"Arrrrooooooooo!" A horn blew from among the Lannister host, which was met by the pounding of a drum within Robb's host. His men began to form up into distinct sections, but did not advance.

It was the archers who were among the rear that began. "Knock!" the commander shouted. "Draw!" Robb turned to see two hundred archers all with their bows drawn and aimed. "Loose!"

All at once, two hundred arrows flew, aiming right for the Lannister men at the bottom of the hill. Most of them hit their mark, though their mark also consisted largely of shields and plate armor. Robb only spotted one man fall amongst a thousand, as the archers prepared to launch more arrows. This was a fool's hope. Only at Oxcross had the arrows been of much use, and even then it was mostly because the men were unarmed and they could use flaming arrows to light the tents on fire.

"Ready your lances!" Robb ordered as the commander of the archers was ordering his men to draw. When the commander ordered the archers to loose, Robb and his men began to charge down the hill.

The song of a thousand battle cries could be heard as the horses raced down the hill. "Winterfell!" Robb shouted himself, but he heard others cheering for their homes too. "Karhold!" and "White Harbor!" and "Barrowton!" among many others. Others cried his name, "King Robb!" or "the King in the North!" More arrows flew, and for a moment the only sound that could be heard was the thundering of hooves from the horses. The battle cries came soon after…

And then came a loud crash, as the first of the vanguard slammed into the Wall of the Lannister infantry. Immediately, a whole new crop of sounds began to dominate. Screams of men as they were trampled, the sound of steel lances slamming into wooden shields or armor, horses whining with fear or in pain as they were stabbed by spears. The sounds of battle were not pleasant.

Robb watched in front of him as the battle unfolded. The Greatjon was leading the vanguard, and was quickly pushing through the infantry wall where he was, laughing like a mad man as he did, but nowhere else along the line where Robb's men were making progress. More Lannister men were falling than Stark men, but the number of his men that were falling was concerning. From the look of things, it was the left, under the command of his great-uncle Brynden where his men were having the most success, making use of a wedge, so Robb ordered more men to help press through when that side broke, whilst he remained behind the vanguard with the bulk of the center still.

It was Ser Daven and Ser Forley's host that was retreating and giving up ground, and it wasn't very long before Robb came across his first corpse. One of his men, whose horse had been speared several times which caused him to fall and be trampled as Robb's men continued to advance. There must have been around half a dozen corpses like this that he came across as they went before his lines stopped advancing entirely.

Later he would find out that the reason the Greatjon's horse had died was because it had been hit by a stray arrow. But in the heat of the moment, all Robb knew was that the giant Lord of the Last Hearth had lost his horse and was now fighting on the ground with that monstrous greatsword of his. The Greatjon was not the only one to have lost his horse but not his life either, as much of the front line was increasingly composed of men whose horses had been killed.

In any case, Robb knew that this was going to be a problem. The Greatjon would continue fighting on foot, leading the vanguard against the infantry until one side was broken and defeated or he was killed, and the others would follow when what Robb really needed was for them to clear out. Another good charge or two, and the infantry could possibly break, but there was no way for them to make such a charge now with his men afoot all across the front. Unless…

"Fall back!" he ordered to the men in the vanguard. "Fall back!"

Some of them did as he ordered, while others simply looked at him with confusion. A few even ignored his orders, though luckily the Greatjon was among those who did as Robb ordered without question. Those who ignored Robb's orders kept fighting until they were cut down, while Robb regrouped with his men further out than the first corpse. The Lannisters meanwhile were slowly creeping forward, but not making any aggressive push.

When he looked over at the left, he saw the Blackfish and his men had all but broken through now, and he decided to make use of what his uncle was doing. "Form a wedge," he ordered his men, using the lordly voice his father had taught him to master as a boy. "Hit them with waves until they break."

His words were met by a series of nods, and then men began to line up into formation. When they were ready, they began to charge again, this time with a concentrated point of attack, forming an arrow that began to slice right through the middle of their vanguard, and after each blow returned back. Almost immediately, it cut a line straight through, breaking their lines and plowing men to the ground. One wave came after another, breaking the lines more and more. He set Grey Wind loose too, letting the massive direwolf begin to take on strayed Lannister men, inciting even more fear within the Lannister lines.

Within minutes, their infantry was broken and retreating on all fronts. Hundreds had been cut down or thrown down their spears, while Robb and his men kept pursuing. Hundreds more were cut down as they tried to retreat. Some attempted to get into formation, but their efforts were quickly put down as the rout was upon them.

By the time they finally reached the old ruins of Castamere, Robb and his men kept pursuing. It seems Prester and Lannister were attempting to organize their cavalry and archers, even setting some of their archers up on the still standing walls and towers, but Robb's men were quick to storm them and cut the archers down, taking the positions for their own.

Already there were corpses lining the ground, some that had been crushed by the falling structures, and others which had been shot full of arrows. But the corpses only grew in number with each passing minute as more and more men were cut down and slain.

He killed a trio of men himself, the first being a man who Robb knocked from his horse, breaking through his armor and impaling him with his long steel lance. The second was an infantry man who Robb did not even notice he had ridden down until the man screamed, and the third was a dying man who Robb dismounted to give mercy to.

Just as Robb was beginning to mount his horse again, he noticed a man standing over him, his sword bloody and drawn. When Robb looked around, his guard was all either lost or engaging with some other foes, which allowed him to understand how this man had slipped through. He wore finer armor than most, painted crimson red, with a pair of golden lion's heads carved into his shoulders. A Lannister, Robb quickly realized.

"Ser Daven Lannister?" Robb asked.

"Robb Stark," the knight spat. "This ends here and now, you and me."

"The Kingslayer offered a similar challenge," Robb recalled. "That battle was hopeless too, by then. Then he tried to challenge me again after we had won the battle when he was in chains. I declined him both times, and I'm inclined to do so again. Yield now, and order your men to surrender so that no more of them need to die."

"So that you can cut out my heart and feed it to that wolf of yours like you did my father?"

He rolled his eyes, not that Ser Daven could see it beneath his helm. "If you yield, you'll be taken prisoner, but you'll be ransomed or exchanged once an agreement can be made."

Ser Daven Lannister shook his head. "No," he muttered. "You and me, right now."

The king had no choice but to draw his own sword. "As you will then."

Before anything else could be said, Ser Daven grunted and charged. Both of them were still wet from the rain and covered in the blood of slain foes as Ser Daven lifted his sword and brought it down in a savage arc, meant to take Robb's head off at a diagonal angle.

He blocked the blow, and countered with a thrust at the man's chest, which Ser Daven was a little late to parry, but it didn't matter as Robb's sword was caught by his armor. The Lannister knight recoiled with pain, and he had probably left a bruise, but he had not cut the flesh itself.

The confidence that Robb felt in how sloppy Ser Daven was had quickly evaporated. As they engaged for longer, it quickly became apparent to Robb Stark that his foe was better with a sword than he was. He was not quite overmatched, and was not being overpowered or consistently forced to lose ground, but he was not gaining it either. It's only a matter of time before the others intervene.

But they didn't. For several minutes, Robb and Ser Daven danced round and round, one hard clean blow meant to take the other's head off followed by another. Robb could hold his own, and even got a few hits on Ser Daven, but each time it was caught by his armor.

Just when he thought he was finally getting the upper-hand, Robb felt his leg give out underneath him. He quickly came to realize that Ser Daven had kicked his leg out from under him, but before Robb could recover, Ser Daven had his sword up to Robb's throat.

"Drop your sword," Ser Daven commanded. "Drop it, right there."

Robb had full armor on, including a steel gorget, but even so, he didn't want to take chances. Grey Wind, if you can hear me, come to me, he prayed silently, as he dropped his sword to the ground, which landed with a clatter. Grey Wind, I need you.

"Remove that helm of yours."

Once again, Robb did as he was told, though now he was truly making himself vulnerable. He gently set his helm down right next to his sword. Grey Wind, where are you?

Ser Daven put his sword up to Robb's chin, pressing his head upwards. "My cousin would have beaten you in a fair fight too," he judged.

"Aye, but there's no such thing as a fair fight," Robb said as he heard the growl. The red knight slowly turned around to see Grey Wind right behind him, while Robb silently put his helmet back on.

With Ser Daven's back still turned to him, he leapt onto the knight's back and pulled him to the ground, tackling him, and putting both his legs on the man's arms. A kinder fate than allowing Grey Wind to do what he wants with you.

"Stay down, ser," he ordered. "You've lost."

Grey Wind slowly walked over towards Robb. His snout and front paws were red with blood, and he was still sopping wet too. Thank you, he thought to himself, wondering if the wolf could hear him.

Robb remained with his legs on Ser Daven's arms, pinning him to the ground for some time, until some of his men came and brought fetters for him, and it started to rain amongst the ruins again, as Robb sat himself up against a wall, with Grey Wind next to him, his sword remaining on the ground. What have I done? he thought to himself as he looked at the horror around him. Before, he had not noticed how much blood was on him, but now…

Ser Raynald Westerling was the first to come to him. "Your grace, the battle is over."

He nodded. "Send orders to Lord Galbart that he is to go back and bring the rest of the camp here.

His good-brother seemed a little confused by the order. Not because Robb was giving it, but because of his priorities. "Would you like me to gather the other lords and lordlings or…"

Robb shook his head. "Ride for the camp. Tell Lucas and Robin what I told you, and tell Jeyne that I'm safe. I'll speak to Ser Brynden when he finds me."

Thankfully, Ser Raynald did not protest, and turned away to go carry out Robb's orders, leaving him there with Grey Wind. After the Knight of Seashells was gone, it was several more minutes before anyone came to talk to him.

"Your grace," the Smalljon greeted. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I fought Ser Daven, one on one," Robb told him. "He's in fetters now, and I'm here… come sit with me Jon." It felt strange, calling the Smalljon by his true name, making Robb think of his bastard-brother. "Is your father alright?"

The Smalljon took Robb's invitation to be seated next to him, taking the right side opposite Grey Wind who was on Robb's left side. "I saw him not too long ago after the battle. He seemed well."

"How is the rest of my company?"

"Jorelle took an arrow that's being treated now. Ryam Ryswell is dead." With the rumors of the Smalljon's relationship with Lady Jorelle Mormont, the fact that he only called her Jorelle was a bit noteworthy.

Robb nodded vacantly. He ought to have cared more, but right now he just felt so terribly numb. Ryam was a good lad, seventeen, only a little more than two and a half years younger than Robb, the eldest son of Lord Rodrick's second son, Rickard, handsome and betrothed to a young maid of House Stout. All those plans were gone now, just like Daryn's betrothal to Lady Alys Karstark. "Anyone else?"

"Not that I'm aware of, thank the gods."

"Thank the gods," he muttered, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Yes, thank the gods that only Ryam is dead. He'll be in my dreams now, with Torrhen and Eddard and Daryn… With Myrcella and father and Bran and Rickon and Elinor.

Jon Umber either didn't notice or pretended not to notice, as Robb began to stand up. "I need to find my uncle," he said. "I need to speak with him."

Robb put his head down as he walked throughout the ruins. He didn't want to be disturbed as he walked past corpse after corpse, (nine in ten of which belonged to Lannisters). Grey Wind trailed alongside him, which meant everyone knew who he was, but thankfully none tried to engage with him as they were setting up their camp.

Eventually, he found his uncle on the other side of the ruins, chatting with Lord Galbart and the Greatjon, though their conversation stopped when they spotted him. "Come with me, uncle," Robb commanded. "I want to speak with you."

Ser Brynden nodded and started to follow Robb and Grey Wind, as he led them through the old ruins, up to a tower that was presently unoccupied. "Over two thousand of theirs are dead," the old knight announced once they were finally up there. "Ser Daven was captured, as I'm sure you know, while Ser Forley has fled, the rest of their host scattered and lost."

"They can't have had more than three thousand at the start."

"No…" Ser Brynden said. "That was the last major challenge for us here. Unless we attempt to take the Golden Tooth or Casterly Rock, we won't face significant resistance."

"How many men did we lose?"

"Less than five hundred from the first reports," his great-uncle replied. "That figure may change, but our losses were much less than theirs."

Robb gave a weak nod. "Our path back east is clear."

"You mean for us to return to Riverrun now?"

"Not yet," Robb answered. "Uncle may have beaten Lord Tywin in open battle, but there's no telling what will happen next. It might be that they're preparing to lay siege to Riverrun now, or planning to go back to Harrenhal. I must stay the course now. Stannis has to be marching on King's Landing now, so we need to keep Lord Tywin away from where he needs to be. I'm thinking of returning my focus back to the prize I had decided not to pursue."

"Fair Isle," his great-uncle guessed. "You mean for us to go for Fair Isle."

He nodded. "Four more undermanned castles," he replied. "If Uncle Edmure has defeated Tywin Lannister in the field, maybe a few more lords losing their homes might start making the rest rethink their loyalties a little, wouldn't you agree? And winning a battle at sea… well if I'm to be some legendary figure- the Warrior himself, incapable of losing, I think I might prove that."

His great-uncle seemed intrigued by the idea. "Who would you have lead the attack against the Banefort then?"

"Lady Maege and Lord Rickard," he replied, immediately. "I feel that Lord Rickard would be better suited for this than the Greatjon, wouldn't you say? And if there are enough ships, Lady Maege feels best suited to command them."

"What is the timeline you propose, your grace?"

"Tomorrow we split. Kayce and Feastfires aren't even a day from here, are they? Their lands are dense, not vast. We'll split the host in three, the men under Lady Maege and Lord Rickard, and then I will take some to attack Kayce and you'll go for Feastfires."

"We ought to keep our force together," his uncle said, disagreeing for the first time. "I cannot say for certain how far it is, but I think it will be at least a day from here to the castles. And the road to Feastfires will run through Kayce."

"What will come after Fair Isle, your grace?"

"I don't know," Robb said. "I'm hoping we'll get word that Ser Rodrik has retaken Winterfell and mounted Theon Greyjoy's head on a spike. If he marches on Deepwood Motte too, us taking Pyke should serve as a warning to Balon Greyjoy that his time is done. We need to retake Moat Cailin sooner than later, though I would like to have things resolved with the Lannisters first. I suppose I need to know what Lord Tywin is going to do after he was beaten by Uncle Edmure." For the first time, he felt uncertain about something. "What do you think Tywin Lannister is going to do?"

"He'll do what he must do," the Blackfish responded. "Roose Bolton has taken Harrenhal and his retreat. Edmure, by the gods, has managed to deliver the first defeat to him on the field of battle, a humiliation that cannot be allowed, and out west, we've won battle after battle over them."

"Yet if Stannis attacks King's Landing," Robb mused. "Lord Tywin's children and grandchildren are there. This war is being fought to preserve their hold on the throne."

"Yes," his great-uncle agreed. "But we've taken it upon ourselves to humiliate Tywin Lannister, and now the only chance of them being able to defend themselves out here is gone. Returning to the battlefield and winning five battles in less than a fortnight would be the best way to remind the Old Lion what he's going up against. Especially when it might be that Stannis has already won in King's Landing and we don't know about it yet."

"Maybe," said the King. Apart from the Battle of Oxcross and the battle they had fought today, Robb's victories had been rather small ever since he had come west. Sarsfield, Ashemark, Nunn's Deep and The Crag were not great victories to sing of, but they were still victories. At least in the battlefield of reputation they mattered. Nunn's Deep and Ashemark at least had a little under a hundred survivors from the Battle of Oxcross who had been defending the castles, which had made them still a bit challenging- and he'd been able to win the support of House Westerling and House Spicer from the Crag once he married Jeyne. "Dispatch riders to recall Lord Rickard to our camp. We're making camp here in the castle, tonight."

"What will you be doing?" asked the Blackfish.

"I need a private word with Ser Daven." Robb wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need for it, but he still acted on the urge. Still covered in blood and with Grey Wind trailing at his side, he looked around a little while for the man who had been in command of the Lannister host.

Ultimately, the knight was chained up to a wall in the ruin, with two guards standing over him.

"Stark," the captive spat when he noticed Robb waving the guards away. "You should-"

"I didn't have Grey Wind eat your father's heart," Robb replied. "Lord Rickard killed him in the chaos of battle. I couldn't control whatever stories your family and your men weaved about what happened to your father, but I had him buried on the site of the battlefield, a respectable and marked grave if you ever wished to visit."

"You attacked him," Lannister replied. "Your men killed his."

"Aye," Robb agreed. "His men killed some of ours too. Your family had my father killed too, but you knew that, I'm sure. Your family attacked mine."

"Because yours attacked first," Ser Daven insisted. "When your mother took my cousin captive."

"My mother took the Imp hostage because she had reason to believe that he had hired a man to kill my brother. The same brother who had fallen from a tower under suspicious circumstances," he pointed out. "Your family began to raid the Riverlands-"

"-We did not," Ser Daven spat back. "Lord Tywin did nothing at all until your father ordered the execution of Ser Gregor Clegane, after your mother had taken Tyrion hostage."

"The Mountain is a vile dog," he pointed out. "My father was right to order his execution."

"Aye, he is a vile dog. But he was innocent of what he was accused of, and Lord Tywin was ordered to present himself in court. Your father was going to take the throne away from King Robert until he died, and Queen Cersei managed to put an end to his treachery."

Robb started to realize that Ser Daven was just trying to provoke him. "My father was no traitor," he calmly replied, trying to avoid seething in anger. "Stannis Baratheon was the rightful heir, and your cousins usurped the throne from him."

"By being born?" Ser Daven said, a little amused.

"By taking the throne when Queen Cersei's childrens were bastards," Robb corrected.

"Men complain about their wives all the time," the knight began to say, "but I didn't know it was customary in the North for you to call your wives bastards. I'm sure she would be quite glad to be married to you after you've called her a bastard."

She called herself that too, Robb reflected. In one of her final letters to him, she'd asked him if she could start signing letters as Myrcella Stark, since she didn't know what other name to put. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal to Robb at the time, but after talking to Melantha, he began to realize that Myrcella had been very deeply unhappy about all of it, and struggling more than she had let on in her letters. "I don't love her any less for it," he said with a still calm tone of voice.

Daven Lannister had a smug look on his face. "Well then why'd you make yourself king, your grace? Seems to me you feel certain about who the true heir to the throne is. Why rebel against him too?" He grinned with the satisfaction of winning.

"For Myrcella's sake," he said, with a sigh. There was also the matter of Stannis not having even been proclaimed King at the time that Robb was making a decision on what to do next, but even then he knew that Stannis ascending the Iron Throne wouldn't bode well for Myrcella or their children. All of this to protect Myrcella… yet now she's dead and gone forever.

Ser Daven seemed to be reading that thought. "I'll bet she's lonely in whatever heaven she's in now. I'm sure it won't be long before Lord Tywin tries to get you to join her. Too bad you'll only find yourself rotting in some hell, Wolf."

Author Notes:

Well, Robb just did some war crimes, so good for him.

Anyways, here's the new chapter. Thanks for all the follows, favorites and reviews guys.