The Pack Survives

by LordStark5

The year is 302 AC. Westeros is deep in the midst of the War of the Five Kings. One is dead, and another has seen the war turn on him so badly that he wishes he were so. Little does Robb Stark know his family is about to be the subject of a much bigger game though, with them being forced to align with unnatural powers to avoid destruction.

5. The Kingdomless King

The Kingdomless King

Robb Stark was sitting 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 too. She chose to sit with him instead of playing with her little brothers, saying that he wouldn't be lonely as he did it. Despite saying that she was enjoying herself, he could tell this was boring her immensely.

According to information that his great-uncle had gotten, Ser Forley Prester was preparing to march from the Golden Tooth, with a 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.

Once he had hoped that by luring Tywin Lannister out west, it could win him the war. He would destroy Stafford Lannister's host, winning him a third great victory in the war, and preventing Tywin from gaining any more reinforcements, and through taking various holdfasts and castles, they would force Tywin out of Harrenhal. While Robb's army undermined the prestige and authority that House Lannister possessed, Renly Baratheon would keep marching towards King's Landing, and Robb would begin laying the foundations to defeat Tywin Lannister once and for all. When Tywin arrived in the west, he'd have to split his forces to retake the various castles and holdfasts that Robb had taken or have to put up with them putting holes in his supply chain, while the Ironborn began raids of the coast and creating even more chaos, perhaps besieging Casterly Rock or sacking Lannisport. While Tywin Lannister was trapped between dealing with Robb and the Ironborn, and the rest of the threats to his family, Robb would have the chance to finally set the stage to crush him.

Now his problem was that everything had gone awry. The Ironborn had betrayed him, and invaded the North while he and his men were in the south, taking Moat Cailin, Barrowton, Torrhen's Square, and the worst of all, Winterfell. In light of this, morale amongst his own men was crushed, and the Freys had abandoned him, costing him close to a thousand knights in the process. Doubtless, between the reinforcements that Tywin Lannister was sure to pick up as he made his way west, and the men he already possessed, he would surely have over twenty thousand, while Robb would only have about four thousand at most, between losing the Freys, the light amount of casualties they had taken and the men who were tasked with holding the various castles and strongholds they'd won. Perhaps his uncle, Ser Edmure Tully, would be able to slow Tywin down a little, and the garrison he would leave to hold Harrenhal would also reduce him numbers a little bit, but he couldn't imagine that by the time Tywin arrived in the west, he would have any less than three times the amount of men as Robb.

And that was without looking at what else was happening. According to his great-uncle's source in King's Landing, things were starting to go in favor of House Lannister. Stannis Baratheon had sailed against Storm's End, luring out his brother, Renly, which had resulted in the sudden death of the younger man, and chaos among his far larger army. The Martells and Lannisters had made an alliance as well, which had come as a shock to those who seemed certain that the Martells would join with Renly. Further east, in the Vale, his Aunt Lysa still had yet to give any support. It all felt terribly bleak to Robb, as his potential allies against the Lannisters turned on each other, or turned against him.

Good news was harder to come by. Lord Bolton had written stating that he was beginning to march against Harrenhal in light of Tywin Lannister marching west, and aimed to take it while the garrison was depleted. Lord Rickard in his current raiding of the coast had taken a pair of smaller strongholds without casualties and set up garrisons, which were attempting to raise more men.

But Robb needed more. Lord Roose and Ser Edmure were too far away for him to join up with them in time, the Freys had abandoned him, and what men he had raised wasn't enough. Their captains at various castles like Ashemark, Nunn's Deep and Lord Rickard's holdfasts had only raised a hundred at most, and the Westerlings had brought nowhere near enough to his cause. The Spicers were reputed to be among the richest houses in the west, but didn't seem even remotely interested in potentially using that money to assist Robb's cause either.

Idleness was not what he needed now and it made him feel like he had failed in his duties as king. Between his injury, grieving, and his attempts to spend at least a little bit of time with his children, he'd given up too much time that he didn't have. Now as he sat with his older daughter, he was trying to make up for that.

"Can you bring me that letter?" Robb asked, pointing for Melantha at an unopened letter on the other side of the table. It bore an unfamiliar seal to him, but Maester Aron had insisted it was important when the maester gave him the letter.

"Yes, father," she said nodding, and fetched it quickly. She set it down in front of him, then sat down next to him again, grinning a little bit to show how eager she was to help

Robb looked over the letter carefully. It had come from Storm's End. For just a second, he hoped that it was his mother who had written it, but it wasn't- and after Renly's death, it had been hard to know what was happening there. It wasn't from Stannis Baratheon, whose queer seal he had seen when he had received that dreadful letter at Ashemark. It wasn't Renly Baratheon's either, which he had seen when Robb and his uncle Edmure had read the letter that had been addressed to his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully, inviting him to join his army and cause at Highgarden. Instead, it was from Ser Cortnay Penrose, the Castellan of Storm's End, who had been appointed by Renly.

The letter hadn't even been addressed to Robb. It was meant for Lord Gawen, Jeyne's father, who had been captured by Robb's men over half a year earlier. A desperate plea for help by a desperate man, Robb guessed, as Ser Cortnay offered his loyalty to whatever lord, king or cause would liberate him from Stannis Baratheon's besieging force. Based on the fact that Lord Gawen had received one, Robb suspected that a hundred other lords of Westeros had received the same exact letter, and every one of them was going to ignore it, as Robb 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, cutting through massive swaths of land in the process. It would also mean attacking Stannis Baratheon, who Robb hardly considered to be a potential friend anymore, but it would mean ending the possibility of an indirect alliance with each other against the Lannisters.

As he gave it some thought, he did realize there might be a way for him to act. It was utter folly, 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. He felt confident that there was not going to be any appeal in Balon Greyjoy to the lords of the Reach. As for Joffrey… why would any declare their support for him? The Tyrells declared support for Renly, surely they will not join with the Lannisters now. 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.

But then he thought about what Mace Tyrell would want. Maybe his daughter was pregnant with Renly's child, and he would want help in putting the unborn child upon the Iron Throne, which was why he had defied Stannis. Robb could support the notion, he supposed, but that would require an actual child. If not… he'd have to buy their loyalty, the same way he had done with the Freys. Marriages, land and gold. But the Tyrells were already the second richest house in Westeros, and ruled the second largest kingdom. Only marriages stood out as a potential appeal. 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. Nor did the prospect of giving away their hands in marriage seem all that enticing to him. 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 wished that his 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. It was his responsibility to handle all of it now.

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 needs to be feared more than they are hated," he had explained. Maybe with a few more victories, 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, trying to pretend like she hadn't been playing with her mouth at all.

"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."

Melantha's 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. She had always been a trouble-maker, though the reality of being a princess had also begun to settle in just a little for her. In particular, she'd discovered a fondness for wearing earrings, which he suspected had something to do with the seashell earrings that Jeyne wore, which had given her the impression that they would make her pretty too.

She put her elbows down on the table and used her hands to support her chin. "Where are we, papa?"

"We're over there," Robb said, pointing. "We're at the Crag, the seat of House Westerling."

"House Westerling?" she repeated. "Like House Stark?"

"Similar, yes," he said, nodding. He didn't want to get into the specific nuances of how their houses were nothing alike when comparing how powerful they were or wealth or anything like that. "Jeyne is of House Westerling, like how you and I are of House Stark."

"But she's your…" Melantha started to say, clearly confused. "She's our…"

Robb understood Melantha's confusion. If Jeyne is of House Westerling, how can she be married to you? she must have been thinking. "You're of House Stark, yes?" he asked.

"Yes…" she agreed, hesitantly.

"You'll still be of House Stark when you're bigger, won't you?" Robb asked. "If you're married, you won't stop being of House Stark."

She frowned. "No," she answered, quietly.

He nodded. "Jeyne was here before I married her. She's got a mother and father, aunties and uncles, brothers and a little sister, just like you. She's got cousins too. We never got to meet her, but she was always here. We're just really far from home." Then he figured he needed to go into what she was sure to ask next. "Jeyne used to be married to someone else, Melantha. Her husband was named Ser Guane Greenfield, and he's the father of Lancel and Kayanna. They belong to House Greenfield, their father's house, even though their mama is now married to me, because that's who they are. Just like how you're still of House Stark and not House Westerling now."

Melantha was still confused. "But you and mama are married," she said. "Why are you married to Jeyne?"

I cannot hide this from her forever, can I? Robb thought to himself. Maybe Eddard and Theo wouldn't remember their mother well enough to realize the change in their lives, but she certainly did. He lifted her up and set her on the table, so that she was facing him, just a little bit above eye level for him. "Melantha, sweetling… mama is dead."

"Dead?" the girl repeated.

Robb nodded. "Dead means… gone forever. I left you and your brothers and your mama for a really long time. It's like that, but… well mama won't be coming back."

A tear was starting to form in Melantha's eye. "Forever?"

"Forever," he affirmed. "Mama and Uncle Bran and Uncle Rickon and grandfather, they're all… somewhere else. They didn't want to leave us… but they won't ever be able to come back." And I thought you and your little siblings had gone there too. "I married Jeyne after I heard that mama was dead."

"Does… that mean she… she's my mama now, father?"

Robb reached out and took her hands. "Do you remember grandmother?" he began to ask. "Not my mother. Mama's mother? She looked just like mama, but older."

"I-I… think so?" the girl said, hesitantly. Then there was a slight glimmer in her eyes. "Mama was angry with her… she didn't like me, either. She called me a…"

"Bastard?" Robb guessed. "Bastard would mean like Uncle Jon, Melantha. It means someone whose mother and father aren't married. Jon's father is your grandfather, but his mother isn't your grandmother. Do you understand that?"

She gave a slight nod. "Am I… a bastard?"

There are people who would prefer it to be that way. He laced his fingers with hers. "The reason why she called you that is because you are not actually mama's child. Not like Eddard, Theo or Joanna. Your mother was a different woman. Her name was Elinor."

That thought hung in the air for a minute or two, as he allowed it to begin to sink in. He had no intention of telling her how in truth, there was a chance her father was a different man entirely as well, which might also have been part of why the Queen had called her a bastard. That question had been raised a few times by people close to Robb- never in Melantha's presence of course- and he knew there was a chance it was true, but he would never deny that she was his child.

"Your mother died not too long after you were born, Melantha," he explained, calmly. "We did marry, but… oh, it's a complicated story, I don't think you would understand. But I'll tell you one day. Mama and I were already betrothed though, and we still wanted to marry, despite everything that had happened. She also decided that she was going to love you like you were her daughter, and never wanted to treat you any different from your little siblings."

The tears had started to come out fully now. Of course it was going to hurt like this, Robb thought to himself, as he kept holding her hands. It's like her entire world has been shattered. When she started to cry, she pulled her down from the table and into his lap again, allowing her to bury her head into his chest, and cry freely. He found himself considering what Melantha was specifically crying about- whether the fact that she had been born to a different woman, or the fact that the mother she had always known was gone forever… he figured it might also have simply been that she was just overwhelmed by all of this.

She cried for a while, and he allowed it. In a way, it made him feel a little better too, both in the relief that Melantha might start to understand the truth, as well as the fact that it started to feel real to him. Whenever he thought about how much his heart yearned to be back at Winterfell with Myrcella and the children, he always pictured things like what would happen when they were back together; reuniting, playing, snuggling before bed, stumbling into whatever trap Melantha was setting, teaching them new games and watching them grow before his eyes. It always made for a sweet thought when he imagined it, but it was never real. Talking to Melantha like this- it might not have been pleasant to think about or imagine, but it was real. It was how he knew that what he had seen wasn't some elaborate dream.

"Melantha," he finally whispered, putting a finger under her chin to lift her gaze. "Melantha, look at me."

She did, sniffing as their eyes met.

"I love you," he told her. "I don't want you to forget that."

The girl's expression was still extremely difficult to read.

"Listen to me," he continued. "It's alright to be sad that your mother is gone. I know it's not easy." He carefully chose his next words. "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"A… s-secret?" Melantha said, before letting out a hiccup.

He nodded. "I miss mama too. I'm sad she's gone…" We have our different reasons, but the feelings are still the same. "I know it's hard, not knowing where she is… being confused by all the strangers." He brushed her hair back. "You can be sad and scared, Melantha. I am too."

Melantha hiccuped again. "Is… is Jeyne m-my new ma-ma?"

Robb sighed. He and Jeyne had already been forced to discuss this topic at greater length with her children, explaining to them how the idea of a step-father worked. Kayanna had been eager to embrace him as her new mother, though Lancel had been colder at first. Slowly the boy was starting to come around to the idea. There was a good deal that he had to say about that subject that he didn't want to burden her with. Once he had asked his own mother why she had never been able to love Jon like Myrcella had loved Melantha- not the first time that he had asked his mother about why she was so cold towards Jon, but the first time he had gotten a true answer. "Myrcella had a choice, where I did not. Your father presented himself as honorable and true, the type of man who would never dishonor me with a bastard. Even if he did… well as long as it was out of view, I could have stomached it. If I'd known about a child before we married, I might have, but your father gave me little choice in the ordeal. Myrcella found it in herself to love your Melantha like her own daughter because she wasn't forced to. She knew when she was marrying you that you would have Melantha, and wanted to marry you even with that. She loved you enough to welcome your child into her heart, since it meant that she would be able to be with you." Asking his children to accept and love Jeyne was one thing, but to ask her to do the same… that was something else entirely. "Well Melantha… that's not for me to decide," he told her instead.

She made a confused face. "Why not?"

"I don't control you, Melantha, and I don't control Jeyne either. I can't make you two love each other if you don't want to. When I married Jeyne… well I thought that you and your little siblings were gone too, and that's what Jeyne thought. If I knew that you and your little siblings weren't dead, I would have made certain I married someone that you four were happy with, and liked…" his voice suddenly trailed off. Would I, though? I married Jeyne to protect her honor… He couldn't imagine what he would have done if Jeyne had decided that she didn't want to marry Robb then, or if even worse, if she was unkind to them. What would I do if she decided to be unkind to them now? He shuddered to think of such a possibility. "Jeyne is my wife, Melantha, and you are my daughter. Nothing would make me happier than if you could love each other- if you did manage to accept her as a new mother now that mama is gone- if you were able to come to see Lancel and Kayanna like a brother and sister. But I won't make you, if you don't." He pushed her hair back, putting all of it behind her shoulders. "If you and Jeyne don't get along, Melantha, that doesn't mean you can't love anyone… grandmother will love you no matter what. I will always love you, and you'll have your little brothers and sister. And you don't have to forget about mama either. You can still miss her, and it's alright if you wish that she was still here." The gods know I wish she was still here.

Melantha sniffed again. "What if… I want a different mother?"

Robb nodded. "I understand that too, Melantha." He'd wanted to avoid putting the burden of being a motherly figure on Jeyne alone, so he had been trying to find some. Each child had been given their own caretaker, whose names Robb was now just beginning to keep track of. Melantha's was named Della, Eddard's was named Jenna, Theo's was named Arissa and Joanna's was named Lyanne, and she had her wet nurse too, a woman named Amella, as well. Lady Maege had quite frequently doted upon Robb's children too, and the had never been a sight quite as terrifying to Robb as when he'd found the Greatjon racing around the castle with all three of the little ones tucked under his arms. Even the Blackfish seemed surprisingly warm around them. Adding that Robb's companions all seemed to be quite good with the children, and Grey Wind was there, and he was able to sleep a little bit easier.

"I want to see you, father," she said, with her eyes wide. "But you- you're always…"

"Busy?" Robb finished. "I'm sorry for that, Melantha," he said, brushing her hair. "I… wish I could be there more." And I wish that Myrcella was here too. She would be here to help take care of you, to make you more comfortable than I probably can for you, and certainly for your brothers. Here to listen to my own issues, and tell me all about her own. He didn't even care if she would have been delivered after he had married Jeyne, he would have been glad to sort things out in that situation, and figure out the rest later. "You know why I went away, don't you? Do you know why I left you and mama and your brothers?"

Melantha frowned. "Maester Luw-in s-said… you were going to get back grandpapa and grandmama. And aunties too. But… you didn't come home…"

"No, I didn't," Robb said with a nod.

"And… mama became… queen," she said.

"And you became a princess, and your brothers became princes. And I became a king," he added on. "But… the reason why I didn't come home is because we're at war."

"War?" she asked, with her voice trembling again.

Robb gave a nod. "I was just a little bit older than you when grandpapa went off to war too. He left me and grandmama and great-grandmama and Uncle Will and Auntie Sansa and Auntie Arya behind. He was only gone for a year, but… well I thought he'd never come home either. But he did, eventually." He could feel a tear forming in his own eye. "I wish I could have come home right away. But I had to fight against bad men… evil men, Melantha. They wanted to hurt our family; they wanted to hurt grandmama and grandpapa and your aunties."

"Like… the bad men at Winterfell? Who h-h-hurt Eddard?"

"Yes," he answered. Explaining the intricacies of his war to a five year old was a fool's errand. "Theon betrayed us, joined the bad men."

"Mama was scared," Melantha said, with an especially sad look in her eyes. "She's never scared… like you…"

Robb placed a kiss on her forehead. I would have been more worried about her if she hadn't been scared. "We get scared," he whispered. "Just like you do. We just don't always get scared by the same things, like how you get scared by Old Nan's stories. But… we also want you to feel safe." He gave her another kiss. "Mama was scared of losing you after you were born… afraid that she'd have to go back to her family and we wouldn't be able to marry, or that you'd get sick…"

As his voice trailed off, Robb found himself reliving a memory; one that he had tried to suppress in the five years that had followed. It was the night of the new year, when the 297th year after King Aegon's Conquest became the 298th, and the snows outside were making them wonder if maybe it was going to be fall soon. Unfortunately, light snows didn't last very long within Winterfell, owing to the heat of the hot springs, which kept them warm even during the coldest of nights.

He was standing outside of Melantha's nursery with Myrcella, as it was getting too late for Melantha to be out. "I hope you sleep well tonight, Ellyn," his betrothed said, flashing a bright smile. "Oh… I think we wore her out enough that she won't make too much of a fuss."

Ellyn only chuckled. She was older for a wet nurse, well into her thirties, and with much more confidence than most wet nurses Robb had ever encountered. But she was also not too atypical from what Robb had experienced either, not particularly comely or homely, with big breasts and even bigger wive's tales that she claimed were undeniable wisdom. "Oh… you always say that, Ella. But this little thing never tires." That was the other thing that was atypical of her, the fact that she did not refer to Robb and Myrcella with proper courtesies, instead calling them by their names- or in Myrcella's case, Ella, and occasionally Marcy.

The woman retreated into the nursery with his daughter, so now it was just Robb and his betrothed. Myrcella had told Ser Merlon Crakehall, her Kingsguard knight and sworn shield, to go to bed for the night, which meant it was just the two of them alone now for the first time in quite a while. "D'you know what, Robb?" she said, rushing her speech a little bit. "I don't feel that tired."

"Oh really?" he said, chuckling a little. It wasn't that late, even if the moon was out already.

She sighed. "I want you to show me somewhere," she said, "I like it when you do that."

He knew that she meant within the castle, and sometimes a few places beyond it. It was him who had been allowed to take her on a tour of the castle when she arrived at Winterfell for the first time, he who had taken her to the godswood and the crypts, taught her how to sneak out and steal food from the kitchen, taken her to the Winter Town and shown her all the little quirks and secrets he'd found in the Wolfswood. "I've shown you every place there is to be seen."

Myrcella made a face. "Maybe there's nowhere else for you to show me that you have been too…" she conceded, "but maybe we could go somewhere new?"

"Where?"

"Well… Ser Merlon and all your family are in the Great Hall, so we could go anywhere. Maybe we can sneak out to the Winter Town?"

Robb figured it was doable, but there was another problem... "And what are we to see? Every shop and market is closed right now. What else could I show you? The brothels Theon goes too? What would we do, buy a whore to share for the night?"

Myrcella giggled. "Now there's an idea," she said, which struck him as a little bit odd.

At the feast, they'd been permitted the usual half-cup of wine that father allowed for them to drink on occasions like this, and the wine they'd had wasn't even all that strong- certainly not enough for her to be drunk. He had been with her the whole night too, he knew that she hadn't gotten anything else to drink.

She must have been able to read his puzzled face. "I know, I know," she said, soberly, "I promise you, Robb… I'm not drunk. I'd just like to spend some time with you tonight, only the two of us, that's all. I miss getting to spend time with you, like we used to. The past few months… I feel like everyone's been trying to get me to hate you, or we're only together with Melantha or your family."

Robb was staring into her beautiful emerald green eyes. "I've missed you too," he admitted. Tonight they did have the chance to spend time together for the first time in a while, which he liked the idea of. "But where… where else are we supposed to go?"

"We've never been in the Burned Tower," she said.

He snorted. "Do you want to go into the Burned Tower?" That was a place he had been to but never showed Myrcella, but one of very few, since he doubted she would like it. "It's cold up there, and we couldn't bring torches or candles or anything. In the dark, we'd probably trip on the stairs or get hurt…"

Myrcella seemed to be in agreement. "I always feel scared that if I go up there it might collapse with me in it," she confessed. "But… the Winter Town… you said all the markets and shops are closed now, yes? So there's the brothels, but there might also be an inn."

"We ate supper already," Robb pointed out. "Are you hungry again?"

She looked down at her tummy and patted it. "I can't say I won't get hungry again… Come on, we shouldn't wear something so conspicuous."

There was no denying the fact that they needed to change. Myrcella was wearing a red gown, with intricate lacing down the front and an elaborate collar which depicted the arms of House Baratheon, and he wore his usual attire for feasts, a grey doublet with wolves emblazoned on it and a blue cloak. Too recognizable for sneaking out of the castle after dark.

"I'll meet you by the library," she said.

They went in opposite directions down the hallway as they made their way back to their rooms- which were a good distance apart within the castle. Robb's was only a few doors away from Melantha's nursery, while Myrcella's was several floors down. Thus far, her requests to have her bedchamber moved closer to Robb's and Melantha's had been refused, and it felt as if his mother and father might have wanted to put more distance between them, rather than less.

It took him a little while to figure out what to wear. He debated quite a bit as to what would be best if he was trying to sneak out with Myrcella on a night like this. Eventually, he settled on his usual riding clothes and boats, and his blue cloak, pinned with his wolf's head brooch- which he could tuck away in his bag once he was out of the Great Keep. If they didn't look too closely, they wouldn't notice his change in outfit, and once he needed to hide who he was, he could take the cloak off, making himself into a reasonably rich traveler. With the weather getting a little colder, Winter Town had become packed with new arrivals and so being recognized was a bit less likely for him too. At least for him…

When he got to the library, Myrcella was waiting for him. In fact, she was sitting on a bench up against the library, reading a book, and had a stack of two more that it looked like she had just gotten. As he approached, she looked up and smiled. "Ohh, you're here," she said, happily, putting a marker within her book and closing it- then tucking all three books into her bag. She had changed into riding clothes of her own, an outfit that he'd never seen before- a hunting green-colored long-sleeve blouse that she had left unlaced above her bosom, a brown cloak and trousers, well-made leather hunting boots. Quite different from her usual clothes, certainly not something he would expect to find Myrcella wearing. Plain and simple, without any extravagance, and almost a man's outfit at that. "I was worried I might have to go back and get you, or go somewhere else so Septon Chayle wouldn't get suspicious. Did you go see Melantha again?"

"No… I just took a while to decide."

"Decisions, decisions, decisions," she said, grinning. "What do you think of mine?"

"You look beautiful," he said. Truth was, he thought she looked more beautiful than ever. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, and she didn't wear any jewelry at all, or anything that seemed to mark her family colors. All the clothes that Myrcella had were usually picked out by either her mother or his, and both Queen Cersei Lannister and Lady Catelyn wanted to make sure Myrcella looked the part of the golden and beautiful princess at all times, even when she was wearing her nightgowns. But for once, she wore something not designed to enhance her beauty at all, and she looked gorgeous still.

"Oh, you like it?" she smirked. "Maybe if I can get your father to agree to let me go hunting, I'll wear it. But it won't be so good for sneaking out then…"

"Did you get this yourself?" he wondered.

"Not at all," she said. "My mother gave it to me, last time we were in King's Landing- said that it might still be a bit too big for me since she'd used her measurements when she had it made… hm… suppose I must be about as big as her now since it fits me this well. She said she wanted me to have an outfit just like hers, something to be worn when not trying to draw attention. Figured now would be as good of a time as any to make use of it."

"It's lovely," he told her. "Did Septon Chayle question why…"

"Oh, I just told him I wanted to get some books a little more… ah… inconspicuously than usual. Things that Maester Luwin doesn't want me reading." She stood up. "But enough of that, let's go, Robb."

When he took her hand, it was as soft and gentle as he remembered, and he couldn't help but imagine what his sisters, Sansa and Arya, would say if they could see Myrcella right now. As it turned out, the library wasn't just a good meeting place because she had a reason for going there like she did, but also because it was on the western side of the castle. Places like the smithy and the stables were completely unattended, and the only guards on the walls for the night were those manning the gates- leaving the secret gate beneath the Bell Tower completely unguarded.

The Bell Tower Gate was one that Robb had discovered all by himself as a boy. There was a gate at the foot of the tower, which everyone knew about, but with the double wall- nobody used it since they didn't know about the second one, which could only be opened by a really well-hidden lever within the tower itself, and would automatically close. Outside of the castle, the landscape by the Bell Tower was a rather large hill, but on the other side was an unguarded cave entrance, where they would come out of. Even if the castle were to come under siege, it wouldn't be of any use to attackers though, since the gate was made of heavy stone and as far as he could tell, could only be moved by whatever mechanism the tower used.

While Myrcella was saddling a horse, Robb tried to find the lever again. When he did, he heard the sound of the stone gate shifting, and both the gate for the Bell Tower and the outer curtain wall were open.

"Should I get a second horse?" she asked.

Robb shrugged. "This one looks like it can handle us riding double," he said. "It'll be easier for them to not notice one horse missing than two." He helped her finish saddling the horse, and they mounted- him riding in front, and her behind, then set off into the dark tunnel.

The route took them to the other side of the hill of course, which had trees to cover the view for the men on the walls at Winterfell, and from there, they began making a wide loop around the castle, careful to stay out of view until they got on the Kingsroad on the other side of the castle. It couldn't have taken any less than an hour for them to finally make it to the Winter Town. He was caught by surprise at the festivities, people on the streets dancing and celebrating, the bards singing songs like, The King Without Courage and Jenny of Oldstones, and the frolicky attitude that was on display.

"Ohhh, a bathhouse," Myrcella pointed out.

"You want to go to a bathhouse?" Robb wondered, turning his head slightly.

"Well yes… all this riding has made me dusty… a lady ought to be clean, shouldn't she?"

He looked around. "Are you talking about that one?" he said, pointing to a place called, The Hot Soak. "I don't think that's a bathhouse, I think it's a brothel."

"I remember Theon said something about this, I think," she replied, "said it was a good place to bathe when needed. He was always honest about which ones are brothels…"

That much was true. Theon was honest when it came to discussions about the establishments of the Winter Town, especially the brothels that he was known to frequent. But he couldn't get a good read on the men who were standing outside, whether they looked like patrons of a brothel or a bathhouse. "I don't want to take you to a brothel," he insisted.

"But I'm fine if it turns out that we stumble into one… do you think I've never seen a woman naked before, Robb? We just have to walk out if we do, it'll be fine."

He decided to not argue with her anymore. Once they found a stable to leave their horse, they dismounted and headed to the bathhouse. None of the men outside the building said a word as they walked in.

"Still open?" Robb asked as they walked in, spotting the owner almost right away.

"On a night like this?" the owner scoffed in response, "of course, of course." Then he saw Myrcella. "Ah… brought your lass here, aye, lad?"

Robb frowned. "Is that a problem?"

"Mmmm, a bit," the owner replied, "men come here as an escape from their women- but since youse are strangers and tonight's a holiday… might be I'll make a generous exception. Just double the normal rate for her, and make sure your teats are covered, lass, no matter how pleasant they are to look at."

"How much?" Robb asked.

"Five silvers, please."

He wasn't sure if that was cheap or expensive for a bathhouse- but it didn't matter, he had plenty more than that as he rummaged through his pouch and dug out five silver pieces. Then he handed it over to the owner.

"Over to the right, you'll find the lockers," the man said. "We've shorts and towels… nothing for you though, lass."

"Shorts will be fine," she said, "and I have a cover."

"Right," the owner said, "you're free to stay as long as you want, but no food will be allowed within the bathhouses."

"Understood," Myrcella said.

It was a couple of minutes later before he and Myrcella stepped out of the lockers and into the bathhouse itself. True to her word, she was wearing a cover for her breasts, but it wasn't a corset- which was the usual fashion, but something more minimal. It didn't cover her stomach at all, and left parts of her breasts exposed even.

"What's the matter, Robb?" she asked after a few seconds. "Oh… this? You've never seen a brassiere?"

"No," he admitted.

"Figures," she said, nodding. "They're more common in the south, since everyone just wants to be warm up here in the North. Mother told me they were only a thing in Essos until Shiera Seastar introduced them to the women at court in King's Landing." Then she narrowed her eyes. "Please don't gape, Robb, I'm not the first…"

"You're not," he agreed, looking up. It just felt unusual seeing her like this. In King's Landing, she'd dressed a little more loosely, once even wearing an outfit that exposed her entire naval, but it had been years since then, and this was far looser in comparison to that.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I just thought back to when we were riding through the North, on your first time, and you were wearing half a dozen layers."

"You're the one who'd been talking about summer snows the entire way north!" she protested. "And you didn't tell me that I looked ridiculous either."

Robb shrugged. "The mittens and earmuffs were rather endearing," he said, smiling. "How many scarves were you wearing again?"

She went red. "I came here to be cleaned, not to take stupid jests…"

"As you say, Ella."

Myrcella raised an eyebrow. "Oh, may the Others take you, Robert…"

Robb found it hard to take his eyes off of his betrothed as they entered the bathhouse. He'd never had any doubts about her beauty, not since the day they'd met in King's Landing. Her golden brow and emerald green eyes were her crowning achievements still, with a wonderfully shaped face and fair skin that made pretty an understatement when describing her; close to perfection might have been the more accurate term in Robb's mind. She was still a few years away from true womanhood- just as he was still a ways away from true manhood, but he was already enchanted.

The bathhouse consisted of nine different pools, all of which were steaming. Unfortunately, all nine of them were occupied with at least one person, if not more, which meant that they would have to go for one where someone was sitting, though in most, people weren't actually bathing, so much as soaking up the steam and sitting knee deep in the pools at most.

"Oi," a middle-aged called out as Robb and Myrcella approached the closest pool to them, "we're not here to be bothered by our ladies, and-"

Before Robb could tell the man that they had gotten permission from the owner, Myrcella spoke up, interrupting the man. "I'm not any of yours, now am I?"

"You're a woman," said the man.

She nodded. "I'm not here to bother you. I'm not the nagging wife or mother or daughter you're escaping from…" her tone suggested that she didn't hold much sympathy for the men, despite her attempts to reason with them. "Luckily, my betrothed and I get along splendidly."

"Betrothed?" a different man in the pool said. "Gods be damned, I ought to have tried to woo you, madam, you're the fairest damsel I've ever gazed upon. But… taken already?"

"Ah, leave off of her, Rogar," a different one said. Robb then realized that the three men sitting on the opposite side of the pool must have been brothers, who seemed to be just a little bit older than him, and very big. An older man was there, who looked like he was their father or grandfather, and seemed a little bit familiar to Robb, while the other, while the other two on the opposite side of the older man were both middle aged and looked fairly innocuous by comparison. "I'm Raynar by the way, and our little brother here is Rory. Our grandfather Hugo wanted to come here to celebrate the festivities."

"Where are you from?" Robb asked.

"The hills of course!" Hugo answered. "I suppose I've not given my introductions, have I? I'm the one they know as Big Bucket, the head of the Wull clan."

Robb gulped as he debated how to greet the man. Both of them had met the Wulls before, but that had been a long time ago. Does he recognize us? Or me?

"The pleasure is mine, my lord," Myrcella replied, smiling. "I would have thought to see you at Winterfell though, rather than here in the Winter Town…"

"Winterfell, aye… lots of sour memories there, I'm afraid," the man admitted. "Figured I would come to the celebrations tomorrow, at least, introduce the boys to Lord Eddard." Robb remembered just then that Big Bucket had been the father of Theo Wull, who had been among his father's men who had died with him against Prince Rhaegar's Kingsguard.

Rogar narrowed his eyes. "My lord," he repeated, with a skeptical look on his face. "Who are you two?"

He felt himself going a little bit red, but luckily, Myrcella remained calm. "Robert is my betrothed, and my name is Ella," she said with a smile.

"Hiding something, are we?" Big Bucket wondered. "No matter, I'm not here to judge."

Robb felt Myrcella slip her fingers in between his, and then sat down on their empty side of the pool, bringing him down with her. Unlike the others, she was genuinely trying to wash herself in the water though, extending her legs down to let them soak as much as possible, and scrubbing as the conversation continued.

"I didn't think a bathhouse would be this busy at this time of day," Robb admitted.

One of the two men on the other side of the pool nodded. "You wouldn't think so… but my establishment provides a service that others crave."

He frowned. "Your establishment? Who was the man out there?"

"Glen is my manager," the owner replied, "I am Vinn Norwell, who owns and runs this place, and serves it up to your leisure. This is my partner, Beron," he said, pointing to the other man, who had first reacted to seeing Myrcella. "Seems you two picked the right pool, dare I say, the others are just townspeople. I say, what better place for two nobles who want to be anonymous?"

Myrcella was scrubbing around her knees, when she spoke up. "Yes, but… why would a place like this be so busy?"

"It's simple really. The hot water beneath the earth makes this all an incredibly easy business to run- no need to spend money on firewood or anything to heat the place, and since nobody has it tamed quite as well as I do, it's easy for me to make money," the owner said with a smile. "People come here at all times of the day to feel warm, to make plans when they don't want certain people to find out, to get clean, or whatever else they want, which keeps business going well even in the night, especially on a day like this."

His memory of everything after that in the bathhouse was sparse. Eventually, Wull and his grandsons left, and the owner and his partner retired for the night. Myrcella properly bathed after that, and forced Robb to do the same, now that they had the pool all to themselves.

When she finally let out a yawn, they both knew it was time for them to go. They got dressed, then made their way to an inn called The Rusted Pot. Myrcella was hungry and got something to eat for herself downstairs, before they went to get a room.

"Ah… would you happen to have a room for two available?" Robb asked, nervously to the innkeep.

The innkeep frowned. "Hmm, allow me to see…" he slowly drew out a piece of paper, and examined it. "Unfortunately I only have one room available for the night."

"Oh, that will be just fine," Myrcella said before Robb could say anything. "Does it have two beds or just one?"

"Just one… a good sized bed, enough for a couple like you, I should think…"

"We'll take it," Myrcella said, nodding vigorously.

Robb hesitantly took out coin to pay the innkeep, and the innkeep responded by handing back a key. "Second floor, room six, you'll see the numbers painted on."

It wasn't until he was getting ready for bed until they spoke again.

Myrcella took out a pouch from her bag and placed it with Robb's things, as he had removed his shirt. "A Lannister always pays her debts," she said, proudly. "I wanted to thank you for the good night you've given me."

"We're going to be in a lot of trouble," he told her. "My mother and father-"

She shut him up by putting a kiss on his lips. It wasn't the first time they kissed, that had been in the godswood of King's Landing not long after they'd met each other. But where that kiss had been soft and sweet, this one was aggressive and passionate.

He gasped when they broke apart. "Myrcella-"

"I want us to be in trouble," she admitted, as she retreated towards the edge of the bed, pulling him over too. "We know that we're going to be… but I want…"

"You want us to fuck?" Robb asked, hesitantly. It was hardly a proper thing to say to a princess, certainly not one who prided herself in being as polite and courteous as Myrcella, and he figured that he only spoke so vulgarly because he'd been listening too much to Theon recently. "Tonight?"

"Yes," she said, whispering to him, as she unpinned her brown cloak and put it off to the side. Meanwhile, Robb was down to just his breeches and underwear, as he'd been changing into sleeping clothes. With her cloak off, she started to unlace her blouse. "My mother wants to call off our betrothal. Your parents want to send me back to King's Landing, and… well I know that if I do go back to King's Landing, my mother will get her wish, Robb. She doesn't want me to marry at all, I'm certain, but she dislikes you even more than everyone else. She'll find anyone else for me to marry if given the chance and… I don't want that, Robb. I want you."

It wasn't the first time that they'd had a conversation like this. But Myrcella seemed more desperate now. "My mother and father…"

"They'll be mad that we dishonored each other, yes, but I'm not afraid of what they'll do to us, Robb." She finished unbuttoning her blouse, and began to remove it. "You know that I've always loved the story of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. I was always so fascinated by it and… well… they were a bit like us. They loved each other very much, but people wanted to tear them apart. People wanted to betroth Alysanne to a brother of Lord Rogar Baratheon, just like how people want me to go home after everything that's happened with Elinor and Melantha. Do you know how they responded?"

He knew of course. Myrcella must have insisted on Old Nan telling them the story half a hundred times when they were little. "They went to Dragonstone and married."

Myrcella nodded, taking Robb's hands and gently setting them on her hips. "They forced everyone's hand," she agreed. "Everyone else had no choice but to accept the marriage. We need to do the same."

Robb understood, but was still struggling internally. "What if… you get with child?"

She glanced at her stomach. "Ohh, well… a little brother or sister for Melantha so soon wouldn't be the worst thing ever, would it? That would be a certain way to force your parent's hand too, I suppose, and because we'll be married they won't be a bastard. But… it'll only be one time, Robb- what are the odds you'd conceive a child twice? Once I'm not a virgin… we can wait. Jaehaerys and Alysanne waited too, you know. But your mother and father won't want to send me to King's Landing again until after I'm married, so that I won't be dishonored by my lost maidenhead."

Her hands went to the laces on his trousers. "It only has to be once, Robb," she whispered. "Just once and… we'll get to live a whole lifetime together. Nobody will be able to come between us."

If only that lifetime could have been longer, Robb thought to himself as his mind went back to Melantha, who was sitting in front of him. He couldn't imagine what his life would have been if not for that day- if his mother and father would have finally relented in their hesitance to see the wedding through- or if they would have returned Myrcella south. He just wished that he didn't feel so guilty about it.

"I bet it's supper time," he finally told her. "Are you hungry?"

Melantha thought about it for a second. Then she nodded.

He smiled and picked her up, setting her first on the table, then lifting her the rest of the way to his shoulders. "Gods be good," he muttered, quiet enough that she couldn't hear. "When did you get so big?" It was not as easy to pick her up as it once had been, that was certain.

She seemed a bit cheerful on his shoulders as he carried her around the castle- though they didn't immediately go for dinner. Instead, he took a slight detour to Maester Aron's tower outside of the Seashell's Keep. Once they were at the foot of the tower, Robb put his daughter down- which made her a little bit disgruntled.

The maester came to the door when he knocked on it, opening it slowly at first, and then faster once he noticed who was there. "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.

He had never once asked the maester for letters. It was always his great-uncle who would get them and read them first and then would share key information with him later. His uncle's task of gathering information was a little bit more difficult now that Steffon Frey was gone- who had served as a spymaster of sorts within Robb's army, but the Blackfish still had not let him down. "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?"

Maester Aron considered the question for a few moments. "How far will you be traveling, your grace? The difference between a short distance and a long distance can make a great difference when considering how it will impact his head. Your littler one might be able to handle riding in a carriage with her wet nurse now, as will the younger boy and your oldest son. Do you know how far?"

"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. Figuring out where to keep them in a time like this was not easy.

"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.

"Aye." That meant there was still a little bit of time before dinner. "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. The doublet was a bit small on him again, and a bit tight, but it was still tolerable at least.

After that he stepped out, and walked with Melantha to the next chamber over, opening the door without knocking. Outside, the three Wull brothers, Rogar, Raynar and Rory- who Robb and Myrcella had encountered all those years ago- were standing guard.

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 and Kayanna were sitting on Jeyne's lap as she read to them. Only Lancel and Joanna weren't there, and he figured Lancel was probably at some kind of lesson and Joanna was in her nursery.

"Grey Wind!" Melantha exclaimed when she saw the direwolf in the corner of the room, and rushed towards him, putting her hands around Grey Wind's neck and her best attempt at giving him a hug. He felt a little bit surprised to see that the wolf was even there, considering Jeyne was not particularly fond of him.

"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. We'll get him something to eat when he wakes up."

Robb looked over and saw Eddard was indeed sleeping on the bed. He was breathing steadily, and had been tucked in well. The young woman, Jenna, who had been made Eddard's caretaker nodded in agreement. "I'll take good care of him, your grace," she said, smiling and giving a slight courtesy.

There wasn't much doubt in his mind that Jenna would take good care of Eddard. The problem was visibility. For as long as Robb could remember, his father had usually kept him at his side while doing various lordly tasks, like welcoming guests, touring neighboring keeps and holdfasts, sitting in on dinners with their bannermen and more- and since Eddard had been born, Robb had tried his best to do the same with the boy. But he was still healing, and had been barely seen. Yet at the same time though- Robb had no desire to pull Eddard from his cozy slumber into the loud raucous that was the Great Hall.

He also gave thought to the idea of getting Joanna from her nursery, but decided against that as well. As much as he felt guilty over the lack of time that he was spending with her, dinner was not the place for her. When the war is over and we're back at Winterfell, I'll tell Ser Rodrik, Ser Brynden and Maester Luwin to not disturb me for a week, and I'll spend every moment of it with them, he promised himself.

When they started to make their way to the Great Hall, Grey Wind followed, which made Jeyne get nervous as they walked with Kay, Theo and Melantha in between them, holding hands. That was another thing that he missed, how confident Myrcella felt, even in the presence of a direwolf. She had not approved of him putting their pup in Theo's cradle, but otherwise, she seemed just as content with the wolves as everyone else, whereas Jeyne was scared of Grey Wind, owing to what the wolf had done during the storming of the castle and the stories she'd heard before that. He wished that he didn't feel so skittish himself- but after what he'd heard at Winterfell, he'd lost faith in the direwolves.

By the time they made it, the hall was already packed and food was being served, the smell of which made his tummy rumble a little bit. The four of them and Grey Wind made their way to the dias, enduring various chants and greetings from his men along the way which made both of the children uncomfortable. Finally, they took their seats on the benches within the raised dias, with Robb sitting in the center of it, with Jeyne on one side and the two children on the other. On the other side were the Westerlings and Spicers: Raynald, Cerenna and their daughter, Rollam, Eleyna, Alarra, Ser Rolph, Lady Sybell and Lady Marissa. Around them was the rest of the nobility, Robb's companions, lords and a few higher officers.

They were served venison and freshly caught bass from the sea, which he ate his fill of, while listening to the conversations taking place around him. A little ways off, there was a singer playing to fill the air, but that didn't interest Robb half so much as what everyone else was listening to.

"Then I thwacked the bugger with his own spear," the Greatjon was saying, which Robb was certain was an old story of fighting with the wildlings. He stopped talking though once he met Robb's eyes and saw the glare he was getting. "It's good to see you, your grace!" he bellowed after that.

Ser Rolph Spicer across the table immediately steered the conversation towards business. "Your grace, our ship has returned."

Robb blinked twice, suddenly feeling confused. "Our ship?"

The knight glanced over at the Blackfish, who was sitting near the end of the table. "After you took the castle, your great-uncle ordered me to send a ship to Oldtown. Came back with three maesters."

Now he was truly lost. "Three maesters?"

"Galladar, Arwald and Tyren," the castellan said, with a nod. "We didn't want to disturb you, your grace, so they swore their vows to you in the audience hall with all of us watching, then sent them to bed."

Distantly, Robb remembered him and his uncle discussing how Lord Tywin had three maester with him out west and how useful they might prove to be. That and how his uncle seemed incredibly mistrustful of Maester Aron after Robb's wound had become infected after the battle.

Jeyne spoke up. "What are we to do with three maesters?"

Robb looked at her. "Maester Aron can stay here at the castle. The rest will come with me, naturally… the children could use a tutor, and I could use an advisor and a healer."

"Oh," said Jeyne, looking down.

He looked over at his wife's uncle again. "Any word from the field?"

"Lord Rickard sent a rider," Ser Rolph explained, taking out a letter.

Robb nodded. He looked at the letter momentarily, and saw that it was Lord Rickard's seal- then broke it and unraveled the letter. Inside was exactly what he expected, a detailed account of loot that had been taken since the last report. The only thing unexpected was the notice at the bottom, where Lord Rickard said that he was going to be returning within a matter of days. Karstark and his men had been plundering in the countryside ever since Robb had stormed the Crag- even with Robb's injuries and wedding.

"Can I read it, father?" Melantha said, clutching Robb's arm.

He looked at her and had to resist the urge to laugh. "There's no pictures," he told her as he tucked the letter into his pocket.

It wasn't until halfway through supper when things became noteworthy. Ser Rolph must have seen someone in the corner of his eye, because he loudly clapped his hands, gesturing them to come. Except they didn't approach the castellan- they went over to Robb.

"Your grace," the man said, with a hard accent, approaching with a woman at his side. Their hands were quite full. "A few gifts, for you."

Robb realized just then who they were- the blacksmith and he assumed the woman was the blacksmith's wife- holding several different parcels. But gift didn't seem quite like the right word to him, considering he had been the one who had designed Jeyne's crown and wanted it to be made for her. He was aware that everyone at the high table was watching him now. Him and Jeyne.

When the king and queen stood, the blacksmith and his wife knelt before them. "Your grace," the smith and his wife said in unison.

He bid them to stand up with a tap on his shoulder after a few seconds. "I shall be glad to see what gifts you've brought me."

The wife was the first to hand over something to Robb. A sword, he realized suddenly. He couldn't quite remember where he'd seen it.

"One of your sers brought this to us to examine it, sire," the smith's wife.

Robb slowly unsheathed the sword as she was saying that, and was immediately shocked. He should have known there was something special about the blade from the hilt alone. The gold-painted pommel was shaped like a roaring lion, the crossguard was made of dyed red steel, while red leather was used to serve as the grip. Where the hilt and the blade met on either side, magnificent rubies were embedded into it, perfectly fitted and symmetrical. But all of that opulence paled in comparison to the blade itself; almost black and covered in distinctive rippling patterns, the blade bore the characteristic hallmarks of Valyrian steel. When the blade was fully drawn, he saw that there were engravings on the blade too. Not writing in the common tongue, or the old runes of the First Men. Valyrian lettering.

"Brightroar," the Blacksmith said, finally. "We studied the blade and realized we were looking at the lost sword of House Lannister. That is the name engraved in the blade…"

"I know that story," he said. Myrcella had told him about it after she'd gotten to see Ice for the first time- and told her about her own family's history with ancestral blades. They had bought the sword Brightroar from a merchant from Valyria- rumored to have cost them enough money to hire a small army, and the sword was passed from King of the Rock to King of the Rock. Until King Tommen II Lannister had decided to win his family an even greater fortune by exploring the Ruins of Valyria in a doomed expedition that never returned. He remembered her telling him about her great-uncle having gone on a similar expedition- this time to recover the sword- and similarly never returning, as well as how her grandfather had wanted so desperately to acquire a new Valyrian steel blade, but had been unable to find a house willing to part with theirs. Not for large amounts of gold, marriages, lands, titles or the promise of favor with Tywin Lannister even.

Theo suddenly perked up from the benches. "That is my sword," he said, simultaneously carrying a small tone and a strange confidence to him. "The man gave it to me…"

Robb realized then where he had encountered the sword. Theo had been clinging to the sword when they first arrived, even though he was far too small to do anything with it. He could not feel certain that it truly was the Stranger of the Seven who had brought the children to him, but if that was so, he didn't want to defy the orders of the gods. And once he had Ice back, eventually the sword would pass from him to Eddard. If Theo is anything like he is now when he grows up, he might feel a little bit jealous of that. A Lannister sword might not do him well in the North, but he is still Myrcella's son. "Theo," he said, turning around, and kneeling in front of the boy. "I'll let you have the sword. I promise. But right now… you're too little to wield it."

And that was a mistake, Robb thought to himself as he saw the boy's face changing. Theo already was struggling with the transition to the new castle, not having his mother and all the new people, and the stress of the noisy hall probably wasn't helping either. Now comes the temper tantrum.

"But… but…"

Robb put a finger to Theo's mouth. "If you carry it around with you all day, you won't be able to do anything else. It's too heavy and big. You can't play with Eddard and Melantha, or…" he stopped in the middle of the sentence. Me he wanted to say, but… he couldn't. All the time he had to spend taking care of his kingly business, he couldn't think of a single thing that he and his younger son had actually done together, just the two of them. Theo wasn't like Melantha, who could at least enjoy sitting around with him and feeling like she was helping him to do work, or like Eddard who he had to check on frequently to make sure he was recovering well. And he wasn't a baby anymore like Joanna, who spending time with could simply consist of holding. Robb felt ashamed of how little time he'd spent with Theo.

"But fa-" the boy started to say again, until Robb shushed him. He had an idea now.

"A sword's no good if you don't know how to use it," he said. "Do you know how to use one?"

Theo was taken aback. "No…"

"Do you want to learn?" Robb asked.

"Yes," the boy said, nodding vigorously.

"How'd you like it if I started teaching you and Eddard how to play with swords?"

Instantly, Theo's face became excited. "Yes," he said, still nodding.

Robb stood up, and lifted Theo onto the bench, then set the ancient sword down against the table top, deciding to deal with it later.

Then he turned his attention back to the smith, who had in his hands a crown, just like the one Robb had given them instructions for. "Your grace, I give you this," he said, bowing again.

The bronze circlet had small jutting iron swords, much like Robb's, though it seems they were blunted more than his own- though they were a little shorter and thinner than the ones on his crown. He hoped that Jeyne wouldn't find it as tiring on her neck as he found his to be sometimes.

"Thank you," Robb said, quietly as he took the crown from the blacksmith's hands.

When he turned around, he saw Jeyne kneeling at his feet. "Stand, my queen," he said, gesturing for her to rise. A proper ceremony would have been held between meals, with a better view and more formalized attire. Yet, it didn't really matter. A hush had gone over the entire hall, and he realized that Jeyne's family who was sitting on the other side of the table had cleared on their side to give a better view.

They weren't at eye level, which he would have hoped for in a situation like this. She was nearly half a foot shorter than him, but she seemed to have more confidence than usual. "You know what comes next, right?" he asked.

"We kiss?" she guessed.

Robb gave a slight nod. Then he set the crown upon her head.

For an instant, it was dead silence in the hall. He had to find the right spot to nestle it, since the crown was not perfectly shaped for her head, and she seemed to have been caught off guard by the weight of it for a second. Once the crown was on her head, he toyed with her chestnut brown hair, then put a finger under her chin to let her know it was done. She gave him a slight smile when she looked up.

Then they kissed.

It was not the first kiss they'd shared in front of such a large audience- they had kissed during their wedding of course, and during the feast, though Robb hadn't partaken in any of the dances that followed. But those had all felt miserable, since he himself had been so lost with grief and sorrow. He didn't even feel much better now, but that little bit was able to make a large difference. When they broke apart, he could see something in Jeyne's big brown eyes. Pride? Happiness? Love? Whatever it was, she seemed to be enjoying this more than their own wedding.

He took her hand, then turned to the crowd and raised hers with his as the applause began. His gaze was fixed on Melantha though, the entire time, who seemed completely mortified by the sight of her father kissing someone.

Just when the applause was dying down, the Greatjon called a toast for Jeyne, leaving them to stand just a little bit longer, but things quickly died back down. After all, this wasn't a formal coronation.

"It's beautiful," his wife whispered as she pushed the front of the crown up just a little bit. Then she turned towards the smith. "Thank you for your work," she said.

The smith had another crown in his hands. "The queen's mother asked us to make this for her grace too."

Robb looked at it carefully. It didn't have any swords, but instead two interwoven bands of bronze and iron. A less warlike version of Robb's crown, it seemed, meant to seem more queenly and pretty. The sort of thing Myrcella might have come up with if she'd been with me at Riverrun after I'd been crowned. When he looked over at Jeyne, she shook her head, as though she knew what he was thinking about asking her.

"Thank you," was what he had to say instead. "It looks lovely."

"What'll you do with it, your grace, if I might ask?" the blacksmith wondered.

Robb glanced over his shoulder. "I have something in mind…"

"We've nothing more for you, your grace," the smith's wife replied.

"The gifts are much appreciated," Robb said as a word of parting. Then he returned to the table.

"That was yucky," Melantha complained.

Robb chuckled. "Us kissing?"

She nodded.

"Melantha, Melantha, Melantha," he said, as he sat down.

Then she saw the crown. "Father…"

"It's for you," he told her, not creating a major ceremony out of it as he set the crown on her head. The crown was just a little bit too big for her, but he figured she would grow into it. "You want it don't you?"

"I'm a real princess!" she said, excitedly.

That you are. He mussed her hair, and hoped that nobody had seen what had just happened. For a second, it seemed like nobody had. Most especially he was glad that Kayanna seemed to be busy listening to Jeyne tell her how to eat, since she would surely get jealous. Then someone down the table called out a toast.

"The new Lady Whent!" the voice he couldn't identify shouted.

Before Robb could stop it, the Greatjon had taken up the cheer. "To the Princess of Harrenhal!" he added, raising his cup. The entire table took up the call, toasting to Melantha Stark, the Little She-Wolf, Lady Whent and the Princess of Harrenhal.

He could feel his daughter tugging on his arm. "Is this…"

Robb gave her a look. "My bannermen have decided to give you a castle," he told her. He honestly wasn't sure how many of them actually knew who Melantha's mother was or how that made her an heir to Harrenhal, since he himself had never boasted about that fact.

Neither he or Melantha really knew how to handle the moment. But then the moment was suddenly disturbed by a low growl from Grey Wind.

When he turned around, he saw a furious look on the wolf's face. "Shit," he cursed under his breath as he saw Grey Wind looking like he was about to charge straight at Melantha.

He only had a second to pull the girl out of the way as the wolf charged, right where Melantha was sitting. Yet the wolf didn't seem to be trying to attack her. Instead it leapt right onto the table.

Jeyne gasped, Rollam cried out, Eleyna gave a muffled scream and their niece Sylvia gave an actual scream, while everyone else began to shout as Grey Wind stood on the table, having wrecked the entire dining set up in the center of the high table. Robb's cup of wine was now all over Melantha, and his plate had been overturned and now rested in Jeyne's lap. But it wasn't Melantha who the wolf was angry with. It was Lady Sybel.

He had his fangs bared, and was growling, looking like he wanted to rip out the woman's throat. Melantha was looking at the wolf furiously, and Kayanna was quivering with fear.

"Down, Grey Wind!" Robb ordered furiously. You fool. How naive I've been to think that something like this wouldn't happen? That a wolf at a feast would ever go well? "Down!" Grey Wind had disliked Jeyne's mother since the day they had arrived at the castle, and Jeyne's uncle too. Now he seemed like he was going to attack them. "Down!"

The wolf ignored him, moving closer towards the Lady of the Crag. "Help me, your grace, the beast…" she said, with a surprisingly dignified tone.

Robb stood up, anticipating the possibility of wrestling with the beast. "Grey Wind," he said, a little calmer this time.

Then someone else came rushing towards them. "Don't eat that!" Lucas Blackwood yelled, as he ran towards Theo, and snatched the plum out of the boy's little hands.

Whilst Robb's son was completely mystified, Blackwood began to sniff the plum. After a couple of seconds, 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. It had a subtle odor to it, one that he was shocked that Theo had not missed.

"Who…?" Robb started to ask, but he already sensed he knew the answer. That is what Grey Wind is trying to tell us.

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

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

"You gave it to him," Lucas said. Now every eye in the hall was looking at them. "I saw you do it, my lady. It smells of poison, and Grey Wind knew it."

"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 Sybell. "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. He also remembered Maester Luwin once mentioning that the size of a person could dictate how effective it was. Lesser doses might be able to kill a child, yet not a fully grown adult.

"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 the children 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 out of the hall.

"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. Unless there's poison that I cannot sense in my food.

The Smalljon and the other two younger 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. With her went her brothers, Raynald and Rollam, and the rest of the Westerlings and Spicers were already gone by that time.

Robb engaged with a little bit of small talk, then sent a couple more of his companions to keep watch over his children- and the hall was so deserted by this point that he was starting to feel fine with discussing the war. There was much on his mind; what they would do with Lady Sybell, what he could do about his lords deciding to make Melantha the Lady of Harrenhal, Eddard's health, whether he could trust the new maesters that had arrived, and plenty of other issues. However, he wasn't given the chance to think too deeply about any of them.

"Your grace," the Greatjon said, with his most thoughtful tone. Even when he wanted to sound thoughtful though, his voice still maintained a booming quality to it. "I've got an idea for our next move."

Lady Maege moved a little closer. "Not now, my lord. They could-"

He raised a hand. The Greatjon's ideas aren't ones to be counted on usually anyway. "Go on, speak your mind."

"Well, what your grace could use is another victory, eh? Something to occupy our men, wouldn't you say?" the Greatjon began. "The Ironborn struck when we didn't expect. I say we do the same."

"You propose that I attack the Iron Isles? We don't have any ships," Robb said. "I agree it might be worth considering an attack on the Isles with the Lannisters not coming our way anytime soon. But unless Lord Mallister has enough at Seagard…"

"We take ships," the Greatjon explained. "There's spots to find them, if we know where to look."

"You're talking about Lannisport," Robb said. "Ser Brynden and I discussed it at length, my lord. We have neither the men nor the time for such an attack."

"No," the Lord of Last Hearth agreed. "But there's a castle just north of here, called the Banefort. We'll find it just like here and Ashemark, unguarded and rich. And with ships. Right on the coast, so once we've got the ships, we'll be able to take the fuckers on the Isles unawares."

Robb shook his head. "What do you know of naval warfare, my lord?"

The Greatjon was taken aback by that. "Well…"

"You fought with my father during the Greyjoy Rebellion, didn't you? And that's it, isn't it? Just the war, when you weren't being given much command?" He turned his attention towards Lady Maege. "You're probably my most experienced sailor here, my lady. Do you think you could lead such an attack?"

"No," Lady Maege said, shaking her head.

Robb nodded. "I admire your courage, my lord, but the plan would be folly. Even with ships, I doubt we would work. The Ironborn have been sailing all their lives, and they'll have their shores ready for an attack. They've fought battles at sea. And even if we did have enough ships, one storm would be all it takes to ruin our cause." He scratched his growing stubble. "I'd like for such a plan to work as much as you do, my lord. I'd take great pleasure in watching as Pyke was pulled down into the sea, tower by tower, but it's not doable…" his voice trailed off.

"By your leave, your grace. If I take my men, five hundred, we'd give you the castle easily. Call it my late wedding gift for you, ha! The best you'll ever get."

"I'm sure," Robb muttered. It was hard for him to envision a wedding gift that could have been better than having his children delivered to him, though he'd ordered his men not to talk about it. "I'll allow you to take the castle, my lord, though you'll have Lady Maege with you too." There was promise to the Greatjon's idea, he could admit. But he was aiming too high.

In his mind's eye, he visualized the map of the Westerlands. With the Crag, they had gained three ships, and perhaps the Banefort would have a similar amount. There were two other castles further south that were along the coast too; Kayce and Feastfires. Both likely had a few ships of their own as well, and Crakehall too- though he wouldn't dare risk an expedition so far south if he couldn't count on aid from the Tyrells. He had hoped that with the Ironborn joining him that they would supply him with the ships to take the coast, which would allow him to besiege Casterly Rock as well and take Lannisport, two crushing blows for the Lannisters.

Robb wasn't sure how long he could stay in the west, but if they had enough ships… well perhaps then they would be able to attack Fair Isle. And once he had Fair Isle, that might give him enough for attacks on Casterly Rock or Lannisport. Thus far Robb had won four battles in his campaign in Lord Tywin's kingdom, Oxcross, Sarsfield, Ashemark and the Crag, each one more decisive than the last. The castles themselves were strong enough that Robb could garrison a few hundred men at each one of them and the Lannisters would have to spend thousands on retaking- if they were able to break through the Riverlands again. He couldn't count on ever having the naval strength to challenge Balon Greyjoy, but he could at least put the Lord of Pyke on notice. And force Lord Tywin's hand too.

He was just about to thank the Greatjon for his idea when the doors to the hall suddenly burst open. Maester Aron came rushing in. "Your grace," he said panting.

"What is it?" Robb asked. The answer seemed to be obvious though.

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

Author Notes:

Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, feel free to leave reviews and favorites.

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