Robb III

Ignoring the men, though boys might be a more apt description, who trained nearby under Ser Rodrik'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 the burlap bag stuffed with straw that made up the body of the dummy, burying into the wood of the stand that held it, and with a tug came out just as easily as it went in.

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 warmer temperatures that fill 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 but his father had also told him it was better to be prepared for the unfortunate to befall you, then for the unfortunate to befall you and you not be prepared.

Despite being almost twice the size of the swords he had trained with, and the longsword he had been gifted on his fourteenth nameday, Robb found Ice to be surprisingly light. Valyrian steel was an almost mythical metal made by Valyrian sorcerors with the use of dragonfire and magics forgotten by man after the Doom of Valyria. Robb's biggest problem with the blade was that, despite its lightweight, it required two hands to wield properly, which meant no shield to use to defend himself. Although he had spent some of his youth learning to wield a greatsword, it was less than a quarter of the time he spent with longsword and shield, and so 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. His father was exactly six feet tall. At the moment Robb was four inches short of that, and hoped to at least be eye level with his father when he was done growing.

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 so two wagons could pass each other with ease.

Overseeing work might be one of the most boring things Robb had ever done and he had sat through Maester Luwin's lessons on the basic contract between lords and their smallfolk. 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, which were gathered, broken into smaller pieces, and bundled for kindling, while the trunks were 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 many turns of the moon, 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 sennight 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 morning, and he didn't want to spend full days on the endeavor. At that point it would be up to Donnal Lightfoot, a distant cousin of Lord Lightfoot of Whitehall who had been tasked with overseeing the work, 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 sennights. He was hoping Jon would be back from Castle Black by then to accompany him when that happened as it would be a few days' ride and he'd rather be in some familiar company besides Theon.

"Alright lads, that's enough for the day!" Ser Rodrik 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 sennights most were still terrible at it. They might have better luck with spears or maybe an ax. Robb would make the suggestion to Ser Rodrik, 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. But Robb knew of his father's, and Ser Rodrik's, preference for the house guard to be trained with sword and shield.

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 was not fully aware of. Too often Grey Wind seemed to be aware when Robb was finished with training, or done with a meeting or some other task, 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. She already displayed an overwhelming amount of what his father called "wolf-blood" behavior, no one wanted or needed for her to display more. 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. He would carry it across his back, the hilt peeking over his shoulder as a reminder to all who looked at him of its presence and when the time came that he had need of it, to dispense justice as he had seen his father do dozens of times, he would easily pull it from his back. It would be a different approach from his father, who had others carry Ice for him when he rode to take someone's head, but as much as he wanted to be like his father, he also knew he had to do things to separate himself. Until the time he was big enough to make his dream a reality, he would leave the greatsword 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, as if understanding what was being asked of him and asking if that's what Robb truly wanted. "Go on Grey Wind," Robb said, trying not to let the confusion he felt enter into his voice. "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, Robb still fully clothed and the boot still on his left foot, but neither of them cared. It would all be removed in short enough time.

Outside their door, Grey Wind laid on the ground and placed his paws over his snout.

A sennight 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 dubbed Tumbledown Tower on one of their forays through the Wolfswood with their father. The previous name of the tower had been lost to history and so the family had taken to calling it Tumbledown Tower for lack of a better name.

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 examining 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 sennight 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 would soon be making their way on the same path the workers were working to turn into the Wolfsroad. While his mother would make sure rooms were arranged and the various servants were aware of their new guests, both short term and long term, Robb felt it would be his duty to talk with Ser Rodrik and Hallis Mollen to make sure the guards were aware and that they would do their duty in not just protecting House Stark but the Mormont daughters as well.

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 tried to stretch his back, to try to work out the knot that had formed from his unconscious slumping in the saddle after so long sitting idle, but the knot still remained. He pulled the reins and turned his horse in a circle and looked around him. Theon was still there, and off to the side was the handful of guards who had accompanied them, but he could not find his wife or his sister.

"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. You know how girls are."

Robb grunted in answer. He had two sisters who were complete opposites of each other. He definitely knew how girls were.

"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 and held the direwolf's gaze.

"Find Wyn."

Grey Wind cocked his head to the side before turning from Robb. He sniffed at the air for a moment, turning his head this way and that before he 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, the horses dodging around trees as they ducked low hanging branches, 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 of what they were doing. Hopefully the guards had enough sense to follow after getting over the initial shock of his departure.

Robb, Theon, and Grey Wind 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 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 of rusty metal.

"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, doing his best to put on a lord's voice, like he heard his father use so often.

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, using his legs to steer his horse.

"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 eight months old, Grey Wind had outgrown every hound at Winterfell and was just a bit shy of 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. His free hand grabbed at the arrow as his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the ground.

"Winterfell!" Robb shouted, though he didn't know why, 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, since Robb was not used to wielding it one handed from horseback, 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, who had sat staring with wide eyes.

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's chest before he could react to 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. "You are supposed to guard her as much as you guard me, if not more so but not one of you thought to follow her? Why did it take you so long to come upon us here in this clearing?"

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 Hallis and Ser Rodrick when they were back at Winterfell. He would make sure the master-at-arms and captain of the guard punished the men appropriately upon their return.

"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, slowly climbing to her feet, one hand still wrapped protectively around her ribs. "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 someone named Mance Rayder, for ransom."

Robb took that information in as he regarded the dirty and disheveled woman in front of him. He had heard the name Mance Rayder before but he couldn't quite place it. Maybe in a conversation between his father and Uncle Benjen when his uncle had been here during the King's visit?

"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. "We will decide her fate at Winterfell."

Two of the guards came down from their horses, and approached Osha. They pulled her to her feet, and she yelped in pain from whatever injury she had sustained in their fight. 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. Thankfully his morning meal had been hours ago, otherwise he would be fighting it back down as it threatened to come up.

"Take the head of the two deserters and send them to the Night's Watch so they know of their fate," Robb said, h is voice sounding calmer than he felt. "Leave everything else to the carrion."