Sorry for the delay in chapters. Life has gotten in the way.

Some of you might have already noticed the spelling errors while reading previous chapters, but I've been having problems with the E and R keys on my laptop. Which is why you will find the occasional word misspelled due to a missing E or R, or the rare time where I'm too aggressive to compensate for the issues, and accidentally put in an EE or RR. I try to find and correct all the mistakes before posting, but some do slip through.

Robb III

Ignoring the men, though boys might be a more apt description, who trained nearby under Ser Rodrick's watchful eye, Robb swung the greatsword into the practice dummy. It wasn't that powerful of a swing but the Valyrian steel was sharp and cut deep into it. Ice was the ancestral blade of the Starks, and though normally wielded by the head of the family, his father had left it behind in Winterfell and had instructed Robb to train with it.

"Ice melts in the warm temperatures below in the south," his father had said as to why he was leaving it behind. Robb imagined his father was thinking of the fates of his own father and brother, and perhaps wanted to leave Ice where it belonged should the same fate somehow befall him. Not that Robb thought his namesake would allow anything of the like to happen.

It was a lot heavier than the standard longswords he had been training with, and the sword he had been gifted on his fourteenth nameday. It also required two hands, which meant no shield to use to defend himself. A new type of weapon meant learning a new way to attack and defend.

On his next swing Robb over extended himself and nearly fell flat on his face. It didn't help that Ice was nearly as long as he was tall. Hopefully he would continue to grow so wielding the weapon would come easier to him.

He had spent most of the day in the Wolfswood, overseeing the building of the road to the Crofter's Village from Winterfell. There was already a well traveled dirt path that connected the two, and the day had been spent clearing away the trees and brush along the sides of that dirt path to widen it.

Overseeing work might be one of the most boring things Robb had ever done. He had been so bored at one point, that he had grabbed an ax and helped fell some trees. It was hard, tiring work, but it felt better than just sitting on his horse doing nothing but looking on. He wondered how other lords could spend so much time doing nothing but sitting there and watching while others did all the work.

Grinding the tree stumps of the fallen trees was tedious work that would take all afternoon, and was when Robb had left to go back to Winterfell. All of the fallen trees were stripped of their branches and hauled off to the nearest lumber yards. Tomorrow, as another section of the dirt road was widened, men would be laying flat, thick stone along the cleared section. The process would repeat itself for months, the road turning north to the abandoned tower that his father was looking to restore, before curving back west to head to the coast and Deepwood Motte that sat along the shore.

He would likely spend most of his mornings over the next week or so overseeing the work on the road. After that, the men would be too far from Winterfell for Robb to make the trip there and back within the same day. At that point it would be up to Donnal Lightfoot, a distant cousin of Lord Lightfoot of Whitehall, to make sure the project went smoothly.

As the men got near Lord Glover's men, Robb would be notified and he would ride out to meet with Lord Glover and hold a little ceremony over the completion of the road. The ceremony wouldn't be much, just a few words to reiterate the loyalty between the houses, and a small feast for the men who had labored for weeks. He was hoping Jon would be back from Castle Black by then to accompany him when that happened.

"Alright lads, that's enough for the day!" Ser Rodrick shouted.

These were the men, twenty-seven in all, who would eventually be joining the castle guard. They wore beat up leather armor that was so old it was starting to crack, and held wooden training swords in their dominant hands. Most of them looked only a few years older than Robb himself, and were likely the second or third sons of nearby farmers who weren't going to inherit much but didn't want to join the Night's Watch.

None of them knew how to wield a sword when they had shown up, and even after a few weeks most were still terrible at it. They might have better luck with spears or maybe an ax. Robb would make the suggestion to Ser Rodrick, not that the man wasn't likely already thinking the same thing. He was the master-at-arms of Winterfell for a reason, after all.

If the training of the new guard was done for the day, then that meant that dinner was soon approaching. Robb decided to call it a day as well. He sheathed the family greatsword and wiped the sweat from his brow.

It was at that moment that Grey Wind came bounding out of the Godswood, tongue lolling out of his mouth, with the same impeccable timing he always seemed to have. Not for the first time Robb wondered if he and his direwolf had some type of deeper connection he wasn't fully aware of. Too often Grey Wind seemed to be aware when Robb was finished with training, or done with a meeting, and came to be by his side without being called. The direwolf woke when he woke, and was never far from where Robb was, no matter what Robb did or where he went.

He wondered if any of his siblings were experiencing the same thing with their direwolves. He hadn't noticed the other direwolves doing the same with Arya and Rickon, but he was so busy as the acting Lord of Winterfell, that he barely saw his siblings outside of meals and the occasional morning he still joined them for lessons. He would have to speak to one of his siblings to see, though his pickings were slim at the moment. Rickon was too young to understand, and the last thing any of them needed was Arya not knowing anything of it and trying to become more wolf-like to try to build a connection with Nymeria. It was another conversation he'd save for when Jon was back.

Together, he and Grey Wind made their way up to his room, where he rested Ice against the wall by his desk. When he was done growing and carrying the sword was less awkward for him, he would bring the sword with him wherever he went, like his father often did. Until then, he would leave it in his room, where the door was always locked when he and Wynafryd were not in it, and a pair of guards were stationed nearby.

With the sword stashed, he grabbed some clothes to take to the baths. As he approached the door, it opened before him and there stood Wyn, as he had taken to calling her. Her face was flushed and she had a smile Robb could only describe as predatory on her face.

"Grey Wind, give us some privacy."

The direwolf looked at Robb for a moment, as if asking if that's what Robb wanted. "Go on Grey Wind. You can wait outside."

Grey Wind moved out of the room and Wyn closed the door behind the direwolf. She locked the door and turned to Robb.

"I was hoping to catch you before dinner."

"Oh?" Robb asked, curious as to why she was looking for him. She shrugged off the light cloak she wore and pulled at the strings behind her neck, that tied her dress together. As the fabric started slipping down her shoulders, Robb's eyes widened. "Oh!"

Robb knew where she was going with this. He was pulling off his boots when Wyn crashed into him, her lips meeting his. They fell backwards onto the bed, one boot still on Robb's left foot, but neither of them cared.

A week later Robb watched as another tree was felled. The work had curved north from the crofter's village and was working its way north to the fallen tower that Bran had once dubbed Tumbledown Tower on one of their forays through the Wolfswood with their father.

He had been accompanied today by Wynafryd and her sister Wylla, as well as Theon. Most of the morning had already passed. Theon had stayed at his side as they watched the work being done, though he entertained himself by occasionally picking targets in the woods to shoot his bow at. Grey Wind had also stayed at his side, spending most of the morning laying down in the brush. Wyn and Wylla had grown bored and had taken to exploring the forest around them.

This was going to be the last morning he came out to oversee the work, even though there was about another week left he could realistically still ride out for the mornings, as he felt there were more important things for himself to be doing. For instance, Lady Mormont had written back agreeing to the fostering of her two daughters at Winterfell. That raven had arrived several days ago, which meant the Mormonts were already on their way. In fact, they had probably already landed at Deepwood Motte and were making their way on the same path the workers were working to turn into the Wolfsroad.

The men would likely be stopping to eat their midday meal soon, and Robb thought it the perfect time to head back to Winterfell. He looked around, to where he had last seen his wife, but couldn't find her. He made his horse turn, eyes searching through the trees but came up empty.

"Where is Wyn?" he asked Theon.

Theon turned and looked around, before giving a half-shrug. "She was here a few minutes ago. They probably saw a pretty bird and wandered out a bit following it."

"Grey Wind."

The direwolf rose from its prone position and approached Robb. Both horses shifted uneasily at the closeness of the beast. Robb looked down into Grey Wind's golden eyes.

"Find Wyn."

Grey Wind cocked his head to the side before turning from Robb. He sniffed at the air and took off running through the trees.

"Follow him!" Robb cried, spurring his horse.

Theon cursed, kicking his horse in its side and steering it after Robb, who had already jumped through the brush to chase his direwolf. They galloped through the trees, well beyond the sight of the men working on the road. With a start, Robb realized he forgot to tell the few house guards who had accompanied them for protection.

All three came to a stop at the edge of a clearing that was bisected by a creek, where Wynafryd and Wylla sat atop their horses surrounded by six people; four men and two women. Four of them wore furs but two of the men wore the black of the Night's Watch. The former men of the Night's Watch held swords, the taller woman held a spear, one of the other men held an ax, and the last two each held dirks.

"Deserters and wildlings," Theon muttered.

Robb pulled Ice from its sheath and urged his horse into the clearing.

"Drop your weapons or die upon them," Robb commanded.

Everyone looked at him but Robb only had eyes for Wyn. She looked scared but unharmed, which was a relief. He looked over Wylla and saw the same. Knowing the status of his wife and goodsister allowed him to shift his focus to the others, the threats.

"The husband," said a man with a gray stubbly face.

"He's a fierce one he is," said one of the women, the shorter one. "You mean to fight us boy?"

"Don't be a fool lad, you're one against six," said the taller woman. "Throw down your sword and get off your horse. We'll thank you kindly for the mount, and you, your wife, and her sister can be on your way."

Robb whistled. Grey Wind jumped into the clearing, teeth bared. Theon entered as well, hands off the reins as he had his bow drawn tight.

"A wolf," the short woman gasped.

"A direwolf," Wylla said, her voice quavering.

If what they could find on direwolves in the Winterfell library was true, Grey Wind still had a long way to go before he was fully grown. That didn't mean he wasn't already a considerable size. Already barely over six months old, Grey Wind had outgrown every hound at Winterfell and was the size of a standard wolf.

"A dog," one of the men, the one with the dirk, said contemptuously. "Yet I'm told there's nothing like a wolfskin cloak to keep a man warm at night. Take -"

Whatever else the man was going to say was interrupted by the arrow that slammed into his chest, forcing whatever air was left in his lungs out of his mouth.

"Winterfell!" Robb shouted, clumsily holding Ice with one hand.

One of the men stupidly charged at Robb, but he was met with a downward swing of Ice. There wasn't a ton of force behind the swing but it didn't matter. The man crumpled in a spray of blood. Another of the men, one of the deserters, grabbed a hold of the reins of Robb's horse and raised his sword, but before he could do anything Grey Wind had set upon him. Both deserter and direwolf tumbled along the ground and into the creek, where the water turned red with blood.

Theon nocked another arrow and just missed the squat woman, who had made a move toward Wyn and Wylla. Robb met the tall woman with Ice, and her with her spear. He parried her strikes, noting that she was very skilled with the weapon. If he had his regular longsword on him then he would feel much better about this fight.

"Ride!" Theon shouted at Wyn and Wylla.

His shout shook them from their stupor. They urged their horses forward. The last of the men, the largest of them who carried the ax, grabbed onto Wyn's leg but she was able to yank herself from the man's grasp. As Wyn and Wylla galloped from the clearing, Theon pulled another arrow from his quiver, realizing it was one of only two left. He aimed it at the large man with the ax, deeming him the biggest threat left.

The squat woman made to charge at Theon, and so he shifted his aim, let out his breath and let the arrow fly. It pierced through the woman's neck and she fell like a sack of potatoes.

Robb managed to knock away the spear of the woman he fought, and jerked on the reins of his horse. The animal followed his commands, spinning on the spot and slamming his hindquarters into the woman. She fell to the ground hard, the spear tumbling from her grasp as her hands wrapped protectively around her ribs.

He turned to Theon, who was pulling his final arrow out of his quiver, and the large wildling with the ax who advanced on him. Before anything else could happen, the sound of hooves were heard as the house guards burst into the clearing. The one in the lead was able to thrust his sword into the wildling man before he realized what was happening.

Grey Wind emerged from the creek, soaking wet and his muzzle stained with red. He walked up to one of the dead bodies and started to sniff it, as if deciding if he was still hungry. The deserter he had tumbled into the creek with was a mangled corpse.

"Where were you?" Robb shouted, looking at the six men who had entered the clearing.

"My lord, we came as soon as we-"

"Why did none of you follow my wife when she first wandered off?" Robb demanded, cutting the guard off. "Why did it take you so long to realize I was no longer by the road?"

The guards all looked at each other, their faces red with shame. Five of them were in the clearing, which hopefully meant the other three were with Wyn and Wylla. Robb wanted to cuss them all out until the sun began to set, but he would leave that to Ser Rodrick when they were back at Winterfell.

"What do we do with this one?" Theon asked, moving his horse closer to the downed wildling woman Robb had fought, the only one still alive.

"Mercy m'lord," the woman cried. "Give me my life, m'lord of Stark, and I am yours."

Wyn and Wylla came back into the clearing, with the three remaining house guards following behind them.

"What would I want with an oathbreaker?" Robb asked.

"I broke no oaths. Stiv and Wallen flew off the wall, not me. The Black Crows have no place for women."

"Give her to the wolf," Theon suggested.

Grey Wind had taken to eating the corpse of the squat woman. All who looked upon the sight quickly looked away, stomachs queasy.

"She's a woman," Robb muttered, sheathing Ice.

"A wildling," Wyn said. "She was the only one who advocated for keeping us alive. She wanted to bring us to Mance Rayder, for ransom."

Robb took that information in as he regarded the dirty and disheveled woman in front of him.

"Do you have a name, wildling?"

"Osha, if it please m'ord," the wildling said, sourly.

"Take Osha with us," Robb commanded, pointing at her.

Two of the guards came down from their horses, and approached Osha. They pulled her to her feet, and she yelped in pain. Robb climbed down from his own horse and picked up the spear Osha had fought with. It was black and must have been six and a half feet long, with a pointed bronze tip at the end. The weapon looked well made, which was more than Robb expected from a wildling. He wondered briefly if the former owner had been killed but figured it didn't matter now. He climbed back onto his horse, holding the spear in his off hand as he took the reins with the other.

"What about the others?" one of the guards asked, gesturing at the five dead bodies.

For the first time, Robb realized he had killed a man. It was only the one, a man whose face had been sliced open to the bone, but it was still his first kill. He felt lightheaded and did his best to keep from swaying in the saddle.

"Take the head of the two deserters and send them to the Night's Watch," Robb said, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. "Leave everything else to the carrion."