The rain pattered down on his hood as he led his party of several dozen riders up the half-pebbled path. He felt the droplets sliding under his mail and cloak and trickle coldly down his back. A splashing sound made him grip his horse's reins more tightly. The last time his horse had gone into a puddle it had misjudged the depth and nearly thrown him. But this time it was just a splash.

"There's the river again," Domeric said quietly.

Tristan glanced to the left. Sure enough the Blue Fork of the Trident swung lazily to the south, the river dangerously close to overflowing its banks. 'Keep to the Blue Fork as much as possible. Stick to the path by it and you'll avoid the mire. Enter there and if you're luck you'll only lose a horse,' Lord Jason Mallister had told them. Tristan had thought that would be easy enough. Horse shit. The rains hadn't stopped these past days and now the Blue Fork had spilled over its banks. The path they were due to take was several feet underwater and they'd been forced to divert inland. The best they could do now was try and keep the Blue Fork in sight as they wound their way through heather and woodland. More than once Tristan had been inclined to turn back and make for Seagard again, if nothing else it would allow them to change out of their sodden clothes and warm by a fire. Lord Jason had asked that they stay longer, but his king had called him and so Tristan rode with a few dozen guards, leaving the rest of his thousand men to watch over the coast.

No one replied to Domeric and they kept moving. Tristan wiped rainwater from his eyelashes and looked up at the oncoming hills. They were approaching the largest one, and he hoped that was the one he was supposed to go to. "We're nearly there," Daryn said, voicing Tristan's hope.

Tristan glanced back at his friend who was grinning at him through a dark beard in a pale face. "How does your arm fare?" Tristan asked.

Daryn raised his right arm gingerly, bound as it was in thick white linen, it looked swollen to twice its normal size, and Daryn was a large man to begin with, the largest of the four of them. "Aches like a bitch, but I'll manage." Lord Mallister had recommended that Daryn stay until the wound the ironmen had given him healed fully, but he'd had none of it.

Daryn would 'manage' if the arm was hanging on by a few threads of muscle and sinew. Tristan slowed until he and Daryn were side by side. "Tris, I can manage."

"I know," Tristan replied. "I just want a good look when you fall flat on your arse."

Cley laughed and even Domeric smiled.

Daryn grunted. "Don't even joke about that, my arse is about the one part of me that's still dry and I'd quite like to keep it that way."

"You'd better not fall then," Tristan replied. "So tell me if you think you might."

He looked at his friend and Daryn nodded back to him. Tristan reached out and grasped Daryn's shoulder briefly.

"Don't look now," Domeric's soft voice came from behind. "But the clouds are breaking."

"Thank the gods," Cley breathed through chattering teeth. The youngest of the four of them, Cley Cerwyn had been unhorsed in the sea near Seagard and drenched before Tristan had hauled him out of the water.

"We'll get you a fire soon enough," Dom promised. "In the meantime, here," he slung off his cloak and tossed it to Cley.

"Don't be stupid, you'll freeze."

"I'll be fine," Dom said. His black ringmail was shining with water already. Domeric rarely got cold, perhaps it was his Bolton blood.

Cley didn't argue anymore and pulled the cloak around him.

They rode on up the path that began to circle up the hill. Suddenly Shield leapt forward across the path ahead of them, snarling, his legs bunched and ready to leap and Tristan held up his hand. They halted and listened. When Tristan heard the sound of hoofbeats, he said "swords." They drew their weapons, Daryn clumsily taking up his with his off-hand.

The horsemen came around a bend but reined up suddenly at the sight of them. One horse reared up, the rest skidded on the path before coming to a clumsy mess. "Who are you?" Their leader demanded. He was a strongly built man with a mane of shaggy hair and a large beard. Tristan recognised him at once.

"Well met, Smalljon," he said, reaching up and pulling down his hood.

"Prince Tristan! We hoped it was you," Smalljon roared, shaking his head to toss his hair back.

Tristan slid his sword back into his scabbard and he heard the rest of his party do the same. "I hope we didn't keep you long?"

"Not so long that we were worried, we thought the rain might delay you a little."

"Delay and freeze," Tristan said.

"Awww, is the little prince afraid of a little water?" he laughed. "Well follow us, we've managed to get a fire up, that should warm up your bones, especially you Cerwyn." He laughed as he turned his horse, and Tristan heard Cley mutter under his breath. Under two thick fur cloaks he looked like a child. They followed the Smalljon up the muddy path. As they wound their way up a hill, Tristan heard a horn sound in the wind. So they'd been seen by a watchman then.

Smalljon's fire was set up on top of a hill overlooking the overflowing Blue Fork. The fire that he spoke of was under a tarpaulin to shelter it from the rain. The sheet was stretched between sentinel and pine trees in what seemed to be an old godswood. A dozen people were crowded around the fire. Meanwhile, guards stood on the rim of the hill among depressions in the mud and the weeds, looking out in all directions.

"Foundations?" Domeric said for him. "Is something being built here?"

"Not being, was," Smalljon said. "A long time ago, apparently this was a fortress of the River Kings in the elder days."

"What happened to it?"

Smalljon shrugged. "Destroyed at some point, and the smallfolk decided they could make better use of the stones than leaving them as rubble. The king might know more." He swung from the saddle and his feet squelched in the mud.

"Where is he?" Tristan asked, joining Smalljon on the muddy earth.

Smalljon pointed towards the trees. "Head through them, he'll be on the other side. In the meantime Cerwyn, let's get some warmth into your bones, you too Hornwood. Don't think I haven't seen your arm wrapped up like that."

"Just you wait Smalljon," Daryn said, marching off after Smalljon who was guiding Cley towards the fire.

"Shall I come with you?" Dom asked, riding up beside Tristan, the only one of them yet to dismount.

"There's no need," Tristan said. "I love you Dom, but I should speak with my brother alone."

Domeric nodded and held out his hand. Tristan took it firmly. "I was actually going for your reins," Domeric said.

"Ah, right." Tristan passed the reins over and allowed Domeric to guide his horse away.

"And me lord?" Elmar asked.

Tristan ruffled his squire's hair. "Go warm up, I'm sure you're as cold as the rest of us." As Elmar joined Daryn and Cley, who welcomed him closely, Tristan headed into the woods. It was an old wood, old like the foundations and the few stones that remained. He looked around, hoping to find a Weirwood where he might look into what had once been here. He could almost see it even without those extra eyes, his mind filled in the walls of the castle stretching around the wide hilltop, with a stout keep, he imagined and tall towers that could see stretches of river for miles around. Mayhaps they could even see the sea from here. If this was a castle of River Kings, then surely they would have had to watch against ironmen raids. But there was no white tree among the pines and sentinels. Perhaps, like so many, it had been carved down as ruts for Harren the Black's monstrosity.

He found Robb standing nearly alone. A score of guardsmen stood in a wide circle thirty paces from his position. He stood by a sepulcher half hidden in long brown grass, the stone smoothed by ages. When Tristan was ten paces away, he made to bow, but his brother spoke before he could. "Come here and tell me what you see?" He commanded.

Tristan approached. "A very wet king," he said.

Because Robb was a king. Sopping wet he might be, water running down the black iron swords on his crown, darkening his grey surcoat and cloak to near black, but the softest headed peasant would know that he was a king from sight alone. The king looked up at him through auburn curls of hair and smiled. "Very funny Tristan. And what about here?" He gestured at the sepulchre before them. Shield approached Grey Wind, Robb's own direwolf who stood out in the grass. The two packmates circled each other a few times before laying down together.

When it had been carved, the sepulchre had been in the likeness of a man, but wind and rain and time had born down on it. He could just about make out a beard and the hollows of eyes on the face, a crown on his brow and a warhammer resting on the chest. It had to be quite a sepulchre, to have survived out in the open for long enough that the castle was torn down around it, the very name forgotten. "Another wet king?" Tristan asked.

Robb shook his head. "Always the easy answer with you."

"It's how I got through our lessons with Maester Luwin," Tristan reminded him.

"That and copying me."

"You always knew the answers. So go on then, who was he?"

"Tristifer, the fourth of his name of the royal house Mudd. King of the Rivers and Hills."

"Mudd?" Tristan said, kicking his boot into the soft earth. "Appropriate."

Robb fixed him with a brotherly gaze. "You don't remember the stories?"

"I remember remembering them," Tristan replied. And he did. House Mudd was an old house, from an old age. "A house of the First Men?"

"Aye, the last of them to rule the Riverlands. And this man was the greatest of them all. The Hammer of Justice they called him. His authority ran from the Neck to the Trident at a time when Westeros was falling, one kingdom after another to the Andal invaders. He fought a hundred battles, so the singers say, winning ninety-nine of them, and when he raised his castle it was the strongest in Westeros at the time. Now it's name has been forgotten. Oldstones, that's what the locals call it, and most maps don't even mark its presence."

"If that's so, why come here?" Tristan asked. "You are king now, it's not for kings to be skulking out in old ruins talking of the long dead."

Robb reached up and touched the iron and bronze crown resting on his brow, running his finger along the band, tracing an iron sword. "You would be as well if you had had to sit in high halls and speak of the affairs of the living." He turned his back on Tristifer Mudd and stared out to the east, his eyes following the flow of the Trident.

Tristan moved to stand next to him. "What do you mean?"

The king wiped the rain from his face as the downpour was starting to abate. "This kingdom is new, and all want a hand in shaping it. It's as though I'm bound in a hundred chains, each being pulled in a different direction, to follow one is pull another tight. Even my own Northmen are not so united as I thought. First our father's imprisonment, then the war, there was always something external to keep them true under my banner. But father is avenged and the war is over. Some would have me return to Winterfell and rule the lands of the Trident as though they were always part of the north. Others would have me rule both kingdoms together, and leave the North without a king for half the time, leaving them free to pursue their interests without my presence to reign them in. They target old dragon-imposed laws and say we no longer need them. I have heard talk about restoring the Lord's right to the First Night, and the Umbers, Karstarks and Glovers have all spoken about the New Gift to the Night's Watch as though it is a fruit ready to be plucked. And then there are my new vassals. Some, like the Tullys and Mallisters want me strong to defend them, others like the Brackens and Vances warn me against becoming another tyrant, like the Storm and Iron Kings of old. If I am too weak I could invite civil war, too strong and I might incite it."

Tristan nodded. "How can I help?"

Robb smiled. "Always so quick to offer aid, never to ask for anything in return."

"I need nothing. I was and remain your strong sword arm."

"And you have proven most useful with it. I must offer you my thanks. Keeping the Freys and Pipers apart at Castle Darry, that business with the cult of the Handless, and Lord Mallister was most relieved to hear you were defending his coast against the ironmen. Is that matter settled?"

"It is. They attempted a last attack on Seagard, but we threw them back into the sea. Lord Mallister arrived just after that final victory." It had been a bloody day on the beach for the ironmen. They had barely made the dunes, making for a small fishing port, when Tristan's men were among them on horseback. Blood stained the sand, but Tristan's men followed them into the sea. The waters swirled red before the tides retreated, leaving three longboats stranded for want of men to sail them. One had tried to get away but Domeric had charged into the sea at full tilt, lancing the rudderman leaving the boat to flounder. "What does that mean for us? Balon Greyjoy may have crowned himself king, but did we agree to recognise that with our peace treaty with the Lannisters"

"No. The Iron Isles are still part of the southern kingdom by legal reckoning. But I will not restart war with the south over raids by a few disgruntled ironmen, all news coming out of the Iron Islands is that they are still in effective civil war. King's Landing's appointed new ruler hasn't brought the captains and lords to heel yet. Any who come to our shores forfeit their lives, but I cannot do more than that, for which I'm sure Lord Mallister is most aggrieved." Robb looked dourly down at the tomb of King Tristifer.

"Is that wise?" Tristan asked. "Others might see a chance if the ironmen are not punished."

"They are punished, they are dead," Robb pointed out. "And this kingdom may be young, but it is not so weak that a few ironmen raids will tear it asunder. The danger to my crown does not lie on the battlefield."

"Then where?"

"In my court. Where my lords battle for my attention and heap me with demands on my time and energies. All this hot air will suffocate the kingdom in its youth. It needs time, time so I can guide it on its first stumbling steps. I need you to give me that time."

"Whatever you need, my king, I will serve."

Robb nodded and gently touched Tristan's shoulder. "I know I can trust you. That's why I need you to go to King's Landing."

Tristan cocked his head and stared. "I must have been hit on the head by those ironmen. I thought you said I was going to King's Landing."

"You heard true, my brother, I'm sending you to King's Landing."

"I thought we fought to be free of King's Landing. Died to be free of it."

"We are free of it. You do not go as a supplicant or a vassal, but as the representative of an equal foreign kingdom."

Tristan folded his arms across his chest, his claw of a hand making it awkward. "For what purpose."

"As part of the negotiated peace agreement between our kingdoms, I agreed that a representative of mine would deliver the last of the hostages we took in the war to them directly at King's Landing. You will also attend the royal wedding of King Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell on my behalf, and when that is done, you will bring Sansa home."

Sansa. Tristan let out a slow breath. "I'm not the one you should send to get Sansa," he said.

"And who would you recommend I send?"

"Mother for one."

"Yes, because I'm sure that the Lannisters will think nothing of me using my mother as my first deputation to them," Robb said. "No I must send a subordinate of appropriate rank. You are the best option."

"Even if you're right. How can sending me to King's Landing help you with the overasking lords?"

"Because you won't be going alone. My representative, especially if that representative is my own brother and heir, must go with a sufficient escort of noble lords and warriors, of both of my constituent kingdoms."

Now he understood. "You're sending me with the lords producing the most hot air, making the most demands on your time."

"Giving me enough time to dig the foundations and start building the walls of this new house. When you return with them, we can talk about arranging the furniture."

"So I just take them with me to King's Landing and bring them back."

"Exactly, go to King's Landing, deliver our hostages, attend the wedding, gather their hostages, and return. Don't cause any incidents," he added with a stern look.

"Even with Joffrey?"

Robb sighed. "We have our usury for father's death, Tristan. Do I wish I could still have Joffrey's head, yes I do. But I can't, we can't. Let Joffrey be king in the south, so long as he doesn't interfere with us, he is no longer our concern. But I am giving you a command as your king, you will treat him with courtesy befitting his rank."

"I understand," Tristan said through gritted teeth. The thought of the pugnacious brat made his insides churn, but he could just keep it inside him.

Robb surprised him by pulling him in for a tight hug. "So do I, Tristan, so do I."

Tristan hugged his brother back and they allowed themselves to be twins again for just a moment, before they stepped back and once more became king and servant.

"Who will be coming with me?"

"I'll make my final decisions before we arrive at Riverrun," Robb said. "But you'll be departing quickly, I need the air cleared as soon as possible. Travel slowly, King Joffrey's wedding is many weeks away, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to impose on King's Landing's hospitality for too long."

"Oh absolutely, I wouldn't want to intrude," he laughed. "What will you be doing in the meantime?" Tristan asked.

"Finishing your work, restoring order, and, as I said, laying the foundations of the new Kingdom. The first step for that is the Twins."

"The Twins?"

"Aye. I promised myself to one of Lord Walder's daughters at the end of the war. So now I need to go and choose myself a queen."

"Oh how difficult for you," Tristan joked. Robb laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go warm up."

"Before we do. I have one question."

Robb stopped at once and turned to him, concerned. "What is it?"

"Sansa. How do I say… what do I say to her?" Tristan had been dreading the day he and his sister would unite again. For it was his sword that had taken Jaime Lannisters hand, and the Lannisters had retaliated by taking Sansa's own. His actions left her crippled for life, and for what?

"I wish I could give you the words." Robb said. "What you did was a mistake, but a mistake that cannot be undone. Start with the truth. Go from there."

"The truth," Tristan said glumly. "In the best of times and the worst of times, the only thing a man will always have is the truth."

Robb smiled. "You remember."

"Father said it enough."

"Was he wrong?"

"No."

"Then listen to his words and speak truth when you see Sansa again, the truth in here," he tapped Tristan's chest. "Now come on, let's warm ourselves up by the fire, and you can tell me all about your exploits."

And so they spoke and laughed and drank until the fire fell dim and the drinking horns were empty. Most of the company drifted off, Robb first of all, and soon only Tristan, Dom, Daryn, Cley and Elmar remained. They walked away from the fire, leaving the light for the sleepers. Elmar rooted around for dry kindling to sustain the fire while the four of them looked down at the wide curve of the Trident. The waters were smooth, reflecting the half-moon and the stars, winding a path through the black fields and trees.

"So, King's Landing," Daryn said grimly. "Of all the things I thought would happen next, going there was not one of them."

"I'm with you there, this I didn't see," Domeric said.

"It'll be an adventure at least," Tristan said.

There was a quiet rustle from the godswood behind them. "You'll have to tell me about it when you get back," Daryn said.

Tristan turned to him. "You're not coming."

Daryn shook his head, his face tight with pain and regret. "I'm sorry, Tristan, but I can't. I can't go further south now. I have been the Lord of Hornwood for well over a year now, but in all that time I haven't seen my own castle. My father's bones have arrived home, but I have yet to pay my respects to his body or his grave. I need to see to my lands, settle my levies back into their homes, reassure my mother than I am well, and I should write to Alys again, it has been too long, and she has no doubt flowered by now."

"I didn't think you would be so eager to rush to the marriage bed," Cley said.

Daryn fixed Cley with a stern look that slid into a grin. "You wouldn't doubt it so if you were pledged to Alys."

"She is a fine woman," Tristan said. He remembered Alys coming to Winterfell when he was seven. She had been a clumsy dancer back then, more focussed on Robb than him. Later on, when she was betrothed to Daryn, and they were meeting at Hornwood, she had confessed that her father had charged her with charming Robb. 'I think I did the best I could,' she'd said defensively, when he'd laughed at the memory. She'd also confessed that he had frightened her back then. He'd been proud of it at the time. But he never begrudged her. Even the wild youth that he had been recognised how she got on with Daryn. She would be good for him.

Domeric thought the same. "I'll be glad for the day you two wed, then someone else can keep you in check."

"Well I hope your bride-to-be isn't so young that she wears you out, old man."

A very faint blush dusted Dom's cheeks. "Teora is Cley's age," he said quietly. "And she's lovely."

"When will you call her to the Dreadfort?"

"I suspect I will find out soon," he turned to Tristan apologetically. "My father also intends us to return to the north. I don't think he will sanction me to go to King's Landing with you."

"Still need Lord Bolton's sanction?" Daryn teased.

"And there is the matter of my new mother."

They all snapped their heads to look at Domeric. "Who?" They demanded at once.

Domeric sucked in a breath and shuddered. "My father has married again. One of Lord Frey's daughters."

"When was this?"

"During the peace negotiations, they carried out the negotiations at Yore while the King negotiated with Lord Tywin."

"I thought your father held a command away from Yore?" Cley asked.

"He did, for a time, but most lords came to and from Yore to see how the negotiations fared and receive fresh orders from King Robb. He happened to be there at the same time as Aenys Frey and they hashed out the details. Now I have a new stepmother. And I need to make sure she knows who is the heir to the Dreadfort. After last time…" he and Tristan shared a look and said nothing of Lord Bolton's bastard. "Sorry, Tris, but I won't risk it again."

"I understand," he said. "I suppose you'll be going home as well?" He turned to Cley.

"Absolutely not," Cley said. "I didn't come south at the start of the war, I was home when my father died, and I saw him interred already, and my people know me as their lord. I'll come with you to King's Landing. Keep you company."

Tristan smiled. "I don't need a nursemaid, Cley, if you want to go home I won't blame you."

"If you needed a nursemaid we'd force Dom to go with you," Cley pointed out.

Domeric turned slowly to Cley, one eyebrow raised. "Are you calling me a nursemaid?" He said in a quiet and dangerous tone.

"No," Cley said quickly.

"Good. Now when you're in King's Landing, make sure that Tristan eats his vegetables and gets to bed on time."

Daryn roared with laughter and it was Tristan's turn to scowl.

"Yes Domeric," Cley replied solemnly.

Domeric bent down in front of Tristan, hands on his knees and said, "now Tristan, you listen to Cley or I'll be writing to your mo-" Tristan lashed out with a well-aimed punch, but Domeric caught the blow and trapped his arm. "Alright, bedtime, all of you," he added to the other two.

"Yes father," Daryn and Cley said together, and even Tristan joined in the laughter as they returned to the warmth of the fire to sleep.

A/N: Glad to see we're already picking up some followers and even faves. I'm going to try and do a better job at responding to reviews this time around, I know I got a bit lax about that last time. So CMY, Hackslash, thanks so much for joining me on this second leg of the journey. If anyone has any questions and I can answer them without being too spoilery, do please let me know.