THE ROAD TO WAR

TYRION

Half a dozen Lannister red cloaks stood guard in front of his father's study, its enormous golden doors sealed shut. One of the guards knocked on the doors. "Your son, my lord," he announced, proclaiming Tyrion's presence.

"Let him in," came his father's curt reply. Another guard reached for the golden handle and opened the door slightly, revealing the silhouettes of his father and Uncle Kevan at the far end of the room. The only thing that caught his attention was the unexpected presence of Maester Creylen.

His father's study didn't evoke pleasant memories for Tyrion. In fact, he couldn't recall a single happy moment that had taken place within those walls carved from the very rock. The golden lions that adorned the room stared at him fiercely and defiantly, and the luxurious tapestries depicting the great deeds of House Lannister added a touch that was far too ostentatious for his taste. His father stood by the fireplace, flanked by two roaring lions, staring into the embers and completely ignoring Tyrion's arrival.

"You're late," was all he said, without even turning his head. It was late at night, and his father's summons had dragged him from his bed, where he had been sleeping soundly dreaming about beautiful women and majestic dragons nestled in the sheets of his chambers. Uncle Kevan might not sleep much, and his father even less, but these were not hours to be waking him. As far as he knew, he hadn't said or done anything to anger his father lately.

"I hope you'll be kind enough to excuse me, Father. I'm sure you have something very important to tell me that simply cannot wait until breakfast," Tyrion said sarcastically. "Let me guess, you've managed to have Robert name Jaime as Hand of the King. Or better yet, perhaps you've succeeded in buying that poor wretch that Valyrian steel sword you so desire for our glorious house. Or maybe you've finally found me a wife who meets your standards. Who will it be, a Frey?"

"Stop mocking everything and take a seat, Tyrion," his father said. His voice was laced with contempt, as always, but this time it also carried a hint of anger. Tyrion hoped, for once, that it wasn't directed at him.

He sat down next to Uncle Kevan, who seemed engrossed in reading one of the many letters scattered across the table. Several seats away, at the other end of the table, Maester Creylen sat with quill and ink, writing a letter with great speed. Judging by the stack of unused parchment beside him, it seemed the night would be long for the maester of Casterly Rock.

"What's so important that it requires my presence, Uncle?" Tyrion asked Kevan. He would have asked his father, but at least his uncle was kinder and less prone to beating around the bush.

"Here, Tyrion," said Kevan, handing him one of the letters in front of him. "Read it." Tyrion didn't recognize the handwriting, but he did recognize the crowned stag of House Baratheon on the broken seal. Now that he looked closely, many of the letters on the table bore the same seal. Something had happened in King's Landing, and whatever it was, it was important enough for his father to wake him in the middle of the night. He pulled one of the candles closer and began to read the letter.

"To all the lords of Westeros,

This letter is sent to inform you, with the utmost urgency, that the Black Eagle Strike Force has taken the city of King's Landing in accordance with their oaths to the realm. Ineptitude and complacency have allowed corruption, degeneration, and immorality to flourish across the continent, from Dorne to the Wall. King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King, and their principal associates have been apprehended and will soon be tried for their crimes against the realm and its people. It is also hereby declared that Princes Joffrey and Tommen, as well as Princess Myrcella, are not the legitimate children of King Robert but are instead the product of incest between Queen Cersei Lannister and her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, and therefore are unfit to inherit the throne.

Therefore, given the crisis in which the realm finds itself, all great and small lords of Westeros are summoned to King's Landing for the convening of a Great Council, where it will be decided who should assume the crown, as well as to reform the government and laws. Until a successor is chosen, Stannis Baratheon, son of the late Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana Baratheon, and Lord of Dragonstone, will assume the position of Lord Protector of the Realm and will lead a Regency Council that will govern until the conclusion of the Great Council.

Let all those loyal to the realm and its people join us and declare their allegiance, so that we may together embark on a new era of peace and prosperity for all."

The letter was signed by several dozen names, most notably Stannis Baratheon and his wife, as well as his brother Renly, which was more troubling given that he was the Lord of Storm's End. But beyond a few Stormlords and Narrow Sea lords, as well as some lesser lords, there were no other significant names.

He calmly placed the paper back on the table and observed the faces of his uncle and father, who awaited his opinion. "I would like to congratulate you on the quality of the jest. But I'm afraid this is not a joke. Are you sure this isn't a forgery?"

"I thought so at first. It arrived by raven from King's Landing two days ago, but not just here. The rest of the letters you see arrived at Crakehall, Silverhill, Ashemark, the Golden Tooth, and a score of other castles. Even one was sent to the Crag," Uncle Kevan informed him.

"If they've sent one to the Westerlings, we can expect ravens like this to have been sent to every castle in the Seven Kingdoms," said his father. "And it's not the only thing. A septon was preaching the same in the streets of Lannisport tonight. I had him hanged, but the rumor will spread no matter what we do."

"It's a very dangerous message. Yes, very dangerous and foolish. Have Stannis and Renly gone mad?" Tyrion said. He knew Renly Baratheon. He was young and arrogant to the point of stupidity, but that didn't make him an idiot. And Stannis was the complete opposite—too rigid and just to even think of rebelling. And yet, that was precisely what they had done: rebelled and overthrown Robert. And now they expected the entire realm to look the other way and crown one of them. Surely, they couldn't be so naive as to think it would happen peacefully.

"Whether they've gone mad or not, I do not care. They intend to steal the throne from my grandson and tarnish our family name with their absurd lies. I will go to King's Landing, yes, but with an army. And not to crown them, but to put their heads on spikes," his father declared. Even when the Greyjoys had burned his fleet before the walls of Casterly Rock, Tyrion had never seen him so furious.

"I figured you'd say something like that. So, it's war, then."

"They've left us no other choice, Tyrion," said his uncle Kevan. "Do you expect us to just sit here and do nothing?"

A deep part of Tyrion's mind screamed at him to do exactly that. There was something they weren't seeing behind all this. Renly might be a fool, but Stannis was not. He had to know that Tywin Lannister wouldn't just sit idly by. And also… Tyrion picked up the letter again.

"It says here that Robert and Ned Stark have also been imprisoned. But they don't mention Cersei, Jaime, or the children," Tyrion said after rereading the missive.

"We have no news from the capital. But it's safe to assume that if they had them in custody, they would have mentioned it. They could use them as bargaining chips when we march against them," his father noted.

"That's if they're still alive," Kevan said, echoing Tyrion's thoughts. If that were the case, Tyrion knew his father wouldn't rest until Dragonstone and Storm's End were reduced to another Castamere. "It's a possibility we cannot dismiss, brother, as much as it pains me. There's also no news of Lancel or Tyrek."

"If Stannis and Renly have dared to even touch a hair on the heads of my children, nephews, or grandchildren, I will erase House Baratheon from history, Kevan. But either way, we cannot remain idle. I've already summoned the bannermen."

"I expected no less, father, but that's not the only thing that worries me about the content of these letters. Ned Stark has been imprisoned alongside Robert," Tyrion pointed out.

"So it seems."

"Then it's reasonable to expect that the Stark boy won't sit idly by. And Hoster Tully will raise arms to defend his daughter's husband. Catelyn Stark and her son struck me as many things, but I don't think they'll sit quietly behind the walls of Winterfell while Ned Stark is judged in the south. They'll march on King's Landing with their forces. And the Tullys with them."

"Only the Tullys? Not the Arryns?" asked his uncle. "Jon Arryn's widow is Catelyn Stark's sister, if I remember right, and now the regent of the Vale. The knights of the Vale will oppose the Baratheon brothers as well."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Uncle. You and Father have spent too much time away from court. Lysa Arryn is… a bit special, so to speak. Temperamental mainly, but also cowardly and overly concerned with her son's health." What Tyrion wanted to say was that she was half-mad, and her temperament was entirely unpredictable.

"Jon Arryn's son. Last time I saw him, he was a weak and sickly boy. I'm surprised he's still alive," his father said. "I offered Robert to take him as a ward, but Jon Arryn died before he could accept the offer." Tyrion found that statement odd. As far back as he could remember, his father had never taken a ward. And he didn't recall his father being particularly close to the late Hand of the King.

"Be that as it may, these are dangerous times, and if Lady Lysa thinks her son might be in danger, the knights of the Vale will stay behind the Gates of the Moon. I wouldn't count on them," Tyrion said.

"That leaves us with the Starks and the Tullys. Along with our forces, they should be more than enough to crush Renly's Stormlords and Stannis's Narrow Sea lords," Kevan said.

"That's what concerns me. Stannis and his wife are arrogant, but not stupid," Tyrion said. "They must have thought this through even more than we have, and they will have reached the same conclusions. One kingdom against three stands little chance of victory, even with their particular army. Renly may have persuaded the Tyrells to join his brother's cause. Stannis Baratheon and Mace Tyrell detest each other, but he might be willing to follow the younger brother. It's well known in the capital that Ser Loras is Renly's favorite flower."

"The power of the Reach could tip the balance in their favor if they have time to muster. Maester, amend the letters. Inform my bannermen that they must gather beneath the walls of the Golden Tooth in less than two weeks and bring as many men as they can. By the time Mace Tyrell leaves Highgarden, we will have already taken King's Landing," his father said, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Tywin Lannister never smiled, and the rare times he did, it was more a cause for terror than joy.

"We should also send letters to Winterfell and Riverrun," his uncle advised. "The Stark boy must join us with all possible haste. The North is as vast as the other six kingdoms combined, and we can't afford to wait months for him to cross the Neck."

Maester Creylen began writing with renewed vigor, eager to fulfill the Warden of the West's newest orders. His uncle Kevan and his father allowed themselves a cup of wine, but to his own surprise, Tyrion declined to join them. Something was amiss, and he needed a clear mind.

The macabre smile of Hubert von Vestra flashed in his mind, a smile even more sinister than Tywin Lannister's, and a chill ran down his spine.

SAM

He had spent the night awake, just like the previous one. His eyelids were heavy, and he was certain the dark circles under his eyes would last for days, but he forced himself to keep reading the hefty tome. Fire and Blood: A History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, or at least the first half of it. Archmaester Gyldayn had died before he could finish his extensive work, and although he knew that other maesters at the Citadel were using his notes for their own projects, the Archmaester's work remained incomplete. Fortunately, his contacts at the Citadel had allowed him to acquire a copy of the work a couple of years ago.

In any case, the heavy book wasn't the only thing he had been reading over the past few days. Numerous ravens had arrived and departed from Horn Hill in recent days, and none brought good news. He was sure that the lords of Westeros had received similar letters almost two centuries ago, just before the bloodiest civil war the continent had ever seen erupted. For some reason, his instincts told him that they might be on the brink of something similar, or perhaps even worse.

"You're still here, Sam. You stayed up all night again, didn't you?" a female voice asked from the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Sam replied. Melessa Florent was a middle-aged woman with brown hair, an ordinary face that usually didn't stand out except for the prominent ears typical of the Florent family. She always mentioned how glad she was that he hadn't inherited them too. Although there were now a few gray strands in her hair, no one in that castle would dare call her old—at least not to her face. After all, she was his mother, the mother of Lord Tarly of Horn Hill, and for all intents and purposes, the true lady of the castle for over a decade, until he had come of age. However, now it was he who was in charge, and he who had to lead her and the rest of his subjects for the rest of his life. He had hoped his rule wouldn't start that violently. "I'll rest tonight, don't worry."

"I hope so. I've allowed you many things throughout your life, Sam, but you need to rest. Those books of yours can wait."

Can they, though? Sam wondered. He had his doubts. The Tarlys of Horn Hill hadn't historically been scholars. Samwell Tarly, from whom he had inherited the name, known as "Savage Sam," had killed dozens of Dornish raiders in the Marches during the infamous Vulture Hunt of the Second Dornish War. Alan Tarly, head of the house during the Dance of the Dragons, supported Rhaenyra and harassed the Greens during the early months of the conflict. Another Tarly, Rickon, had led the vanguard of the Blackfyre forces during the Battle of the Redgrass Field, crushing the loyalist vanguard. And, of course, Randyll Tarly, his father, was the only commander to date who had managed to defeat Robert Baratheon in battle. Fierce and glorious warriors, all of them.

However, their ends had been anything but glorious. "Savage Sam" died a few years after the Second Dornish War, delirious in his bed and unable to move due to a poorly healed wound he had received in battle. Alan Tarly was captured at the Battle of Honeywine and spent the rest of the war as a prisoner. When the Blacks finally emerged victorious, he returned to his lands, alive but humiliated, which plunged him into a depression so deep that he took his own life a few years later. Rickon Tarly died at the Redgrass Field, pierced by Brynden Rivers' arrows, and his father Randyll had met a similar fate before the walls of Storm's End. A stray arrow had killed him during a feast—a sad way to die, which some houses of the Reach still mocked.

Sam was not willing to share the same fate as his ancestors. Besides, he wasn't cut out to be a warrior or a general; he knew that well. He was fat and clumsy, and that wasn't the worst of it. He was also an incorrigible coward. A single drop of blood was enough to make him faint.

"Maybe in these pages, I'll find the answer to this mess, Mother. They say those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it. House Tarly nearly met its end under the flames of Prince Daeron Targaryen and Tessarion, and my father didn't leave it in a much better position. You've spent the last decade trying to manage these lands after my father's death, and I won't be the one to ruin your work."

"I don't think you'll find the answer in the stories of people who died centuries ago, Sam." His mother was a rational and kind person, and she was rarely wrong in what she said. However, this time, she was mistaken.

"Since Aegon unified the Seven Kingdoms, the various monarchs who succeeded him were better or worse, and many faced rebellions at different points in their reigns. But none of them suffered a coup and were overthrown. Not a single one. Many died in battle, were poisoned, or assassinated, like Maegor the Cruel or the Mad King. What has happened seems more like something out of the Free Cities."

"They were all Targaryens. Maybe it was obvious that the Usurper would eventually lose his throne," his mother said.

"Maybe, but even so, this is something entirely new. And that itself could be very dangerous."

"The Lannisters, the Tullys, the Arryns, and the Starks won't take long to put an end to this farce. I'd be surprised if the Usurper or his son didn't reclaim the throne within a moon's time."

"Aye, that's what anyone with common sense would think. And that's precisely what gives me a bad feeling about all of this. I don't know Stannis or Renly Baratheon, but it's hard for me to believe they'd be so reckless as to do this with just the support of the Stormlords. There has to be something more."

"You think they have allies. The Martells, perhaps? Prince Doran has been demanding the head of Gregor Clegane for years, and he'd ask for Tywin Lannister's and Robert Baratheon's heads if he could. Maybe he sees this as his opportunity," his mother said after considering Sam's words.

"That's a possibility, yes. And that's why I think I need to carefully consider every move we make, or we might walk right into the lion's den."

"So, you plan to do nothing? Stannis and his wife killed your father, in case you've forgotten. If you don't march against him, your subjects will say you're a coward, and the lords of the Reach will see you as weak, Sam," his mother said.

They already see me like that, and unfortunately, they're not wrong. House Tarly was still one of the most powerful houses in the Reach, and Sam was among the most important bannermen of Mace Tyrell. But he wasn't the only one in such a position. The Hightowers of nearby Oldtown were much wealthier and could muster a far larger army than he could. His maternal family, the Florents of Brightwater Keep, were also among the most powerful houses, and they were ambitious—very ambitious. They wouldn't hesitate to betray even their own family if it served their interests. And that wasn't even considering the Rowans or the Redwynes. If he chose the wrong side, he had no doubt that one of the nearby lords would take advantage of it. And besides, I don't like battles, I don't like war, or blood. I'd rather stay here. If he summoned the levies and sent them to battle, someone else would have to lead them. Ser Hyle Hunt or one of the knights who served him could take his place, but he didn't trust any of them much. Who knows what they might do in command of an army, no matter how small. They might return from the war with ambitions of grandeur.

"Vengeance won't bring my father back to life," Sam replied. Besides, I didn't even know him. Everything I know about him is through you; to me, he's just a stranger. His father had died shortly after he was born, during the siege of Storm's End. The only family he had was his mother, and he wasn't going to lose her. No, he would weather the coming storm however he could. Let others take the honor and glory; that didn't interest him in the slightest.

"If it had been the other way around, your father would have taken up Heartsbane and wouldn't have returned until Stannis Baratheon's head was on a spike."

"I am not my father! I know he would have killed a hundred men just to clear a small stain on his honor, but I don't care about that." When he finished, he realized his mother was staring at him, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to shout at you, truly."

"No, it's fine. I overstepped; I'm the one who should be apologizing. You're Lord Tarly now, and it's your responsibility to lead this house as you see fit," Melessa Florent replied, though she still seemed somewhat startled. "I'll support you in whatever you decide, Sam, you can be sure of that."

"Thank you, Mother. I've never doubted it," Sam said. "I have a question about my grandfather Alester. I regret not knowing him better, and I know what I'm about to ask is incredibly rude, so I apologize in advance."

"I don't think you can offend me, Sam. I know my father better than most."

"To what extent do you think he's capable of joining Stannis? Since that letter from King's Landing arrived, I've been wondering if he might have friends in the Reach. Not with Lord Mace, of course, but perhaps he could count on the friendship of some lesser lords. And Grandfather has always been..."

"Ambitious. Aye, it may be so. But my father is also a coward. He won't attempt anything unless he truly believes he can get away with it. And Mace Tyrell is too powerful for him to oppose openly. He'll do whatever is ordered from Highgarden, though not willingly. Why do you ask?"

"A letter from him arrived this morning. He said I should march to meet him at Brightwater Keep once I've called the levies."

"At Brightwater Keep... not Highgarden?"

"Exactly. Lord Mace summoned the vassals, but he said nothing about his intentions in his letter. And neither did Grandfather Alester. My knights are anxious; many have asked when we'll march to war."

"And? What will you do? In my opinion, heading to Highgarden seems the safest bet. Your grandfather has always liked to boast, but he won't dare do anything foolish if he's up against all the lords of the Reach."

"Perhaps. But I don't think Lord Mace will act against the rebels. Not yet, at least. It's said that Ser Loras was in the capital at the time of the coup, along with Lord Redwyne's sons." He didn't have fond memories of Ser Horas and Ser Hobber from that trip to the Arbor years ago, but they didn't seem clever enough to now be part of a conspiracy of this scale. Though he could be wrong. After all, he didn't know them that well. "Whether they're there as prisoners or collaborators, I have no idea. Perhaps the idea of a Great Council isn't so bad after all."

"You can't be serious."

"Very serious. The last two brought many years of peace, and they served to, if not prevent, at least delay conflicts that had been brewing for a long time. We might still avoid a bloodbath," Sam argued. Of course, he didn't expect that to happen. What he'd heard of Tywin Lannister didn't inspire optimism, and with Ned Stark's arrest, it didn't seem likely that the Northerners would accept it either. Everything indicated that this call for a Great Council was nothing more than a smokescreen, though it remained to be seen for what purpose. It might just be to buy time before deciding the next moves in this conflict.

"Something tells me the time for talking has passed, Sam," his mother replied.

"It's never too late to talk. But you're not entirely wrong; there will be war. Whether the conflict will be short or long is still to be decided, but whatever the case, I think we must avoid it at all costs. I'll give orders to Hyle Hunt and his men to recruit as many soldiers as they can, but I won't call the levies. Autumn is already upon us, and the coming winter looks to be a long one. Losing even one harvest to this war could prove fatal in the coming years."

"Mace Tyrell won't like that. He knows our strength; he'll expect you to send more soldiers."

"You're mistaken. I won't send any. I'll have them guard the mountain passes of the Red Mountains and patrol in case the Dornish attack, but I won't send any of my subjects to this war. Neither the Lannisters nor the Baratheons are our allies. We have nothing to gain. When there's a victor, I'll bend the knee, humble myself as needed, and swear loyalty. House Tarly will remain standing, and when winter comes, we'll be prepared."

His mother nodded, though she didn't seem entirely convinced by his reasoning. Once he was alone again, Sam found himself wondering for the umpteenth time if he was making the right decision. He returned to the book, picking up from the chapter he'd left off before his mother had interrupted him—the longest in that voluminous work. And rightly so, given the subject it covered, which was clear from its title: The Death of the Dragons.

THEON

The first letter had arrived on a cold autumn morning, shortly after dawn. The castle was already awake, and no one would have paid the raven any mind if not for Maester Luwin rushing into the Great Hall, imploring Lady Catelyn to come to the rookery. Had she refused, he was sure Luwin would have dragged her there, or at least tried. Maester Luwin was old, to begin with, but the past few weeks seemed to have aged him more than the last decade. Every time Theon saw him, he looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept all night, though he had been sleeping more than usual lately.

In any case, the health of Winterfell's maester was the least of his concerns, and for good reason. When Lady Catelyn had returned to the Great Hall, she had ordered all the servants out, leaving only herself, Maester Luwin, Rodrik Cassel, Robb, and him, though he was only present because of Robb's insistence. Lady Catelyn had been more than ready to exclude him from the impromptu meeting but had relented under her son's persistence.

"Your father has been arrested for treason," Lady Catelyn began, her gaze colder than usual. If she was worried, she showed no sign of it. "He is confined in the Red Keep, awaiting trial."

"What?" Robb had exclaimed angrily. "That's impossible! King Robert and he are good friends; he would never betray him. I refuse to believe it."

"It wasn't the king who ordered the arrest," Maester Luwin interjected. "It was Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard. They now rule in the capital." Theon hadn't understood anything at that moment, and even now, he still hadn't fully grasped it.

"They have deposed Robert. They control the capital, and according to the letter, they seem to have the support of Lord Renly Baratheon and the Stormlords. Not only that, but they also mention that Robert's children are not his, but the result of incest between the queen and her brother, Ser Jaime," said Catelyn Stark.

"Treason!" Ser Rodrik had shouted. "Those scoundrels are trying to seize the throne with lies and falsehoods. I have no love for the Lannisters, but I find it hard to believe even the Kingslayer would stoop to such vileness."

"I'm not so sure," Theon had said. "He's capable of many things, or have you forgotten how he earned his name? But I agree with you, Ser Rodrik. We can't let Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard get away with this."

"What should we do, Mother? They have Father, and maybe Arya and Sansa too," said Robb. His hand was trembling. Theon nearly laughed but held back in time. He sometimes forgot that Robb was still little more than a boy, no matter how much he liked to pretend to be a grown man. The people in the room exchanged looks of resignation and concern. They all knew what needed to be done, even Robb, though he didn't dare say it. As for Theon, he couldn't have been more eager. This was going to be his big moment, his chance to prove himself to the Starks and to his father.

"Do you want to kneel before Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard, Robb? Will you go to King's Landing, attend this Great Council, and swear fealty to them? Is that what you want?" Catelyn Stark asked. Her blue eyes bore into her son, cold as snow.

"No. No, never. I'll go to King's Landing, but not alone. Maester Luwin, summon the bannermen," Robb said, standing tall. It was the first time since Theon had known him that he looked like a true son of his father, and not a trout from Riverrun. A young Eddard Stark. "They have all sworn to defend my father and my family. It's time they honored their oaths."

Since he had spoken those words, Robb the boy hadn't been seen again. Now it was Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Day had turned to night, and night to day, over and over again. The first to arrive was Lord Medger Cerwyn and his forces, along with his daughter. Theon was sure Lord Cerwyn hoped his daughter would return to Castle Cerwyn with a Stark pup in her belly when they marched south, but his efforts had been entirely fruitless, as the girl rarely left her father's side. Hellman Tallhart of Torrhen's Square arrived the next day, and a few days later, Lord Halys Hornwood, Lord Galbart Glover and his brother Robett came with hundreds of horsemen from Deepwood Motte, and Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort, with nearly two thousand foot soldiers and half as many horsemen.

But soldiers weren't the only thing that arrived at Winterfell in those days. Dozens of ravens came and went from Maester Luwin's tower each day, and every time Robb went to see him, he emerged with a harder, more expressionless face, though Theon knew him well enough to sense that he was nervous, very nervous. And with good reason. Ser Edmure Tully, Lady Catelyn's brother and Robb's uncle, had written from Riverrun several times. Apparently, Lord Hoster Tully had summoned all his bannermen and was amassing an army beneath Riverrun's walls, while also informing them that many of the lords of the eastern borders, including Lord Mooton of Maidenpool and Lord Hawick of Saltpans, had yet to respond to his missives, and none of their men had arrived at Riverrun. It seemed Lady Whent had warned Riverrun of the presence of many soldiers without banners near Harrenhal, before contact with the immense castle was also lost.

The subsequent reports were no better. Lord Piper had been sent to Harrenhal with part of the Riverrun host, but there had been no word from him since. Meanwhile, another army was forming on the eastern edge of the Riverlands, near the Golden Tooth. Lord Tywin Lannister had also called his bannermen, demanding that all the lords of the realm join him in driving Lord Stannis from the Iron Throne. However, he did not specify whether it was to restore King Robert or to place his grandson Joffrey on the throne. He had even written to Winterfell, requesting—or rather demanding—their support.

There had been no news from the Eyrie, though. Lady Catelyn had sent several letters to her sister Lysa, who had once warned her that the Lannisters had murdered her late husband, Jon Arryn, the former Hand of the King. But since then, there had been no word from the Vale of Arryn, and the days continued to pass inexorably.

"These are the last ones. I will wait no more," Robb declared that morning as he watched the line of Umber soldiers arriving from Last Hearth, under the banner of the roaring giant unchained. A great host had formed within and outside the walls of Winterfell, nearly ten thousand men, but it was still too few. Summer had ended, and many lords had chosen to leave many men behind to harvest the autumn crops, fearing a long and harsh winter. More would join them along the Kingsroad—the Manderlys and the Flints, as well as free riders and crannogmen. Others, like the Karstarks of Karhold, had yet to arrive, and Robb seemed to have no intention of waiting even a single day longer.

"You should be prepared. From what I know, Lord Umber—or the Greatjon, as they may prefer to call him—is proud, very proud. He is not easily impressed, only by those who earn his respect," Theon advised. In his opinion, if the Greatjon didn't listen to reason, Robb should lock him up in the dungeons of Winterfell until he did. Him and anyone else who dared to challenge his leadership—that's what his father would have done. But Robb was not his father, not yet. The northern lords accepted his leadership for now, true, but some more willingly than others. Roose Bolton seemed to judge him with that cold, calculating gaze, and who knew what those pale, almost colorless eyes were thinking. The rest of the lords were not much better, but if they didn't show Robb much respect, they showed Theon utter disdain, even hatred. And in this case, they didn't bother to hide it at all.

Robett Glover believed Theon's only worth was as a hostage until Balon Greyjoy showed his support against Stannis. Lady Maege Mormont and her daughter Dacey had advocated for chaining Theon up, not just until his father joined them with his fleet, but long beyond that, until the war was over. Robb, of course, hadn't listened to them, but the idea still lingered, and even Catelyn Stark wasn't entirely opposed to it.

Damn northerners. They were too proud to forget past grievances, even though more than a decade had passed since his father's rebellion. He had been just a child then. It wasn't Theon Greyjoy who had raided the coastal villages of the North, but Dagmer Cleftjaw or one of his father's other captains. He had grown up in the shadow of Eddard Stark, their lord, and yet they still eyed him with suspicion, as if he were his father.

His father. It all came down to that. To his damned father. The fool had rebelled against all of Westeros and had been crushed and forced to bend the knee to King Robert, as was to be expected. He was incompetent and an idiot. When Theon succeeded him on the Seastone Chair, he would lead the ironborn to a future as glorious as hadn't been seen in centuries. But that would have to wait. For now, he contented himself with hoping that his father would respond to his letters. Maester Luwin had also sent several ravens to Pyke, but none had returned. Not a single message from his father or any of his uncles, just silence.

The one who had written to him was his sister Asha. The letter had arrived sealed with black wax bearing the image of a kraken, so at first, Robb and the maester had thought it came from Pyke, until they saw its contents. In the brief letter, Asha urged him to stay safe in Winterfell until the war was over, or to join her in King's Landing or Dragonstone, if allowed. After reading it, Theon had crumpled it into a ball and thrown it into the fire. Stay safe! She had the audacity to say that to him. Her, who had become Lady Hresvelg's lapdog. Well, if his sister survived the war, he would make sure she learned her lesson.

Stay in Winterfell—they all want me to stay in Winterfell. Well, I have no intention of doing so! I will march south. Aye, I will. And then I will spike Lord Stannis's head on a pike and take his wife as my salt wife. I will take her to Pyke as a trophy, for all the ironborn to see.

"Staying behind is no dishonor, Theon," Maester Luwin had confided in him that last night, after dinner. Theon had retired earlier than the others. He didn't know what Robb had said to the Greatjon, but they seemed like lifelong friends. The big man, who now sat to Robb's right, couldn't stop shouting every few minutes that everyone should kneel before the son of Eddard Stark, that he was a true northerner, and that it wouldn't be long before they kicked the arses of Stannis and Renly and returned with Ned. The rest of the northern lords seemed more interested in eating or arguing among themselves than in talking to Theon, and not even the smile one of the serving girls gave him lifted his spirits.

"They don't respect me, and they didn't want me there with them," Theon told the maester. He had noticed it too, like anyone with a bit of sense, but that wasn't going to stop him. "And if I stay in Winterfell, they never will. Theon the Coward, that's what they'll call me."

"Or perhaps Theon the Wise. Many of those dining there tonight will never return. Robb might be among them. War is only horror; you should know that better than anyone," the old man replied.

"I lost two brothers in the war, old man. I won't lose another if I can help it. I'll protect Robb and advise him wisely; he's still just a boy. No matter what he thinks, he's only sixteen, and if I leave him alone, those wolves who call themselves his bannermen will devour him. And I don't even want to think about what will happen when he faces Tywin Lannister. He needs me."

"He has his mother for that."

That was another problem. Catelyn Stark was determined to accompany her son and his host to Riverrun, and nothing anyone said had changed her mind. " It's my family's lands they're attacking. My father and my brother. I must go there, with them," she had argued, as if her presence would change anything.

"Then all the more reason, maester. Lady Catelyn should stay here; at least on that we agree. If she goes with Robb, the lords will say he's hiding behind his mother's skirts. Besides, Bran is just a child; he can't run Winterfell on his own."

"Ser Rodrik and I will stay with him. And you should too, if you have any sense. Please, Theon, listen to me. There's nothing for you in the south."

"Good night, maester," Theon dismissed him. If he had wanted to hear that useless words he could have just stayed in the Great Hall.

The red dawn wasn't long in coming. The crimson comet that had appeared in the sky a few days ago was beginning to blend with the heavens, its tail fading on the horizon as the days passed. It was his comet, he knew it. It was marking the path to his glory, and no northern lord or old maester was going to deprive him of it.

The lords and their hosts had gathered in the courtyard, behind the walls, and those who couldn't fit waited outside, anticipating their commander's departure. Robb was astride a gray stallion, having just finished saying goodbye to his brother Bran, the cripple. His other brother, the little boy Rickon, was still locked in his room. Bran had been a mischievous and energetic child, but since he fell from the tower, he had become sad and silent. It would have been more merciful if he had died.

Robb spurred his horse and moved away from Theon to position himself between him and the Greatjon. Ahead of him rode Hallis Mollen, carrying the white banner of House Stark, fluttering in the wind. Robb's horse began to move, and Theon knew at that moment there was no turning back. Before the sun reached its zenith, the walls and towers of Winterfell would be lost on the horizon, and in a few days, they would reach the ruins of Moat Cailin, then the Twins, and finally Riverrun.

And after that, he would face his sister and claim his glory.

Hello there! Sorry for the long wait but between things in life and author's block this chapter took far longer than I expected. Nonetheless, I hope you liked the chapter and that the wait was worth it. See you next time!
Next chapter: No Turning Back