Robb couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and disheartened with how the council was unfolding.
Jon had promised him the role of Master of War, a position he embraced. Then his uncle complained and Robb was relegated to being Master of Laws, a pointless task, from his perspective.
Then came word of the impending arrival of Roose Bolton and his wife, Walda. According to Jon and Sansa, in their previous life, Roose had betrayed and killed him. Although the Lord of the Dreadfort had yet to do him any wrong, Robb was still uncomfortable with the situation.
Robb had wanted to talk it over with Jon and Sansa in private. He had waited until Jon and Sansa returned from their visit to see Blizzard, before approaching them. However, he was too late, for Jon and Sansa had retired to their chambers, and judging by the noises coming from inside, they were not to be disturbed.
The Boltons were due to arrive that morning. It was a cold windy one, with light snow dusting the ground. Robb peered through his bronze fareye, watching them approach from a guard turret atop the outer wall. They were about an hour's ride away, from what he could make out.
Lord and Lady Bolton were accompanied by Lady Dustin, Lord Hornwood, and Lord Ryswell. Beside them were some one hundred horsemen and a hundred foot soldiers. They had marched from the crossing at the Twins, manned by Lord Walder Frey, the father of the new Lady Bolton. Their banners fluttered in the wind; the flayed man, a Bullmoose, a black horse with a red mane and crossed longaxes.
It wasn't Robb's job to wait for the newcomers, but considering everything that was happening in Winterfell, he had to do something useful, even if it were only to settle his nerves. However, the party in the distance did nothing but make him feel worse.
Footsteps alerted him to someone approaching him. Robb lowered the far eye and turned to see he'd been joined by Jon.
"You're not happy about this are you, Robb?"
"What do you think, your grace?"
Robb couldn't hide the sarcasm in his voice. Jon rolled his eyes.
"I don't want him here any more than you. This hurts Sansa, if not more. She lived with him while he let his bastard son rape and torture her."
Robb felt like a child who had been scolded. Ever since Jon, Sansa, and Arya had time-travelled back from when they had lived and endured, the age difference between Jon and Robb had, over time become noticeable. Whereas they were once the same age, Jon was a man in his mid-twenties. He was a veteran of battles, a war commander, a leader and a King. Robb himself was a man-grown, but at the side of Jon, he was a greenboy.
Robb knew he was being petulant, but he couldn't help it. "I just don't like it, your grace."
"Stop calling me your grace, you are still my brother."
"Who is married to my sister."
"And has been married to your sister for two years. Is that the problem? Or is it because you feel slighted?"
Robb kept his thoughts to himself, instead, he scowled at his cousin. Jon took a deep breath and continued.
"When I joined the Night's Watch, I was dead set on being a ranger, just like Uncle Benjen. After we swore our vows, we were told of our assignments, I thought I'd be a ranger. I was the best swordsman, horseman and the most observant of all the recruits. When I was assigned to the stewards, to clean the chamberpots, change linens and be a servant, I was ready to quit."
"Why didn't you?"
"Sam talked me out of it. Lord Commander Mormont wanted me as his personal steward. I was so angry, I just thought it was Ser Alliser Thorne's punishment. But it wasn't. Sam pointed out that the Old Bear was grooming me for command. To be Lord Commander after him. So I stayed, swore my vows and became the next Lord Commander. Just as Sam had predicted."
"What has that got to do with me?"
"It was a shit job, but Sam was right. I learned things I would never have had I been a ranger. Aye, there was the dull stuff, but it allowed me to watch and learn. Right now, being Master of Laws seems like a pointless job. Your responsibility will be to keep the men in line. When I take the Iron Throne, it will become an important job. But my hand will be in Winterfell, busy preparing the castle for the long night. I'll need a new hand. Someone who has observed and knows how I want to rule. I can't just have any old greenboy, can I?" Jon smirked.
Robb was stunned at Jon's suggestion.
"You'll want me to be your hand?"
"It's up to you. As the old saying goes, the King shits and the hand wipes."
"Doesn't sound so glamorous."
"Most people think ruling is about power. But if done right, it is about being a servant."
"The ultimate steward?"
"Aye, something like that. Although it means you'll have every woman in Westeros throwing herself at you."
"You had no intention of marrying me off to a northerner."
"Gods no," Jon rested his hands on Robb's shoulders. "You're a man grown. As long as you make a sensible match. Use your head, not your heart or cock. Then I won't stand in your way. If you want to wet your prick, visit a whorehouse. I'll not have you falling in love with some lowborn girl of little use to you."
Robb was stunned by Jon's comment. Being raised a bastard, Robb couldn't understand why Jon would be prejudiced against a common girl.
"Why should I steer clear of lowborn girls?"
"Your mother does a hard job. Running a castle the size of Winterfell needs a girl trained in such matters."
"Theon married Ygritte," Robb protested.
"Aye, but Theon has no castle. Ygritte is learning how to read and write. She will be there as their keep is built. A keep half the size of Queenscrown. She won't be the wife of the warden of the North, like yours will. She won't have to host large retinues, when the King and Queen visit, like your wife will."
"I suppose you're right."
"Last thing. How would you know a random lowborn is not paid for by the enemy? Knowing who the woman is, tells us if she is friend or foe."
"Alright," Robb sighed. He knew he had been thoroughly chastised. "What do you intend to do about Roose Bolton?"
"Watch him. Have him followed. Intercept any letters he sends. Find out what his plans are. If he were loyal, which I doubt, he'd be the right choice for the job. Whether a role on the small council will be enough to sate his appetite for power, is up for debate. But Ramsay is dead, which gives us time. Any children he and Lady Bolton have will still be children when the long night comes."
"So you say, greet them, grit our teeth, and spy on them."
Jon slapped him on the back and laughed.
"Aye, that's precisely what I'm saying. Now stop brooding. That's my job. I have far more practice at brooding than you. Come, let's greet the enemy and assess him properly."
Robb nodded. He folded up the fareye, and placed it in his pocket, before following Jon downstairs and into the main courtyard, feeling much better for their conversation.
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Roose Bolton and his retinue rode into the Winterfell courtyard, to be met by Lord and Lady Stark, as well as Robb and Rickon. Jon's identity was yet to be common knowledge outside the walls of Winterfell, which was why he and Sansa were elsewhere, tending to Blizzard.
"Lord Stark, Lady Stark. It is a pleasure to see you once more," Roose Bolton's voice was soft and considered, his eyes cold as ice. "This is my wife, Lady Walda."
"Lord Bolton, welcome to Winterfell," Ned held his hand out to Roose and shook it. "Lady Walda, a pleasure to meet you," he kissed her gloved knuckles.
"It's lovely to meet you, Lord Stark," Lady Walda replied with a shy smile.
Robb was stunned by her. Sansa had told him, Walder Frey, based the size of the dowries on the girl's weight. Roose Bolton had chosen the largest as she brought the biggest dowry. Despite this, Robb felt a little sorry for the girl. Sansa told him Walda bore no responsibility for how Sansa was treated, and she met a gruesome end at the hands of Ramsay. Walda didn't choose the identity of her father, or her husband. She was as much a victim as Sansa in all of this.
"Lord Robb, good to see you again," Roose smiled.
"You too, Lord Bolton, and a pleasure to meet you, Lady Bolton," Robb took Walda's hand and kissed her knuckles. She blushed as he did so.
"I'm sure you are exhausted from your journey," Robb's mother interjected. "Your rooms have been readied. I will have baths drawn for you."
Introductions were made with the rest of the party before Robb's mother led the Lords and Ladies to their chambers. Robb's father held Lord Bolton back for a moment to have a private word. Robb tried to listen in, but his father's words were mere whispers, designed to be heard only by the Lord of the Dreadfort.
After Roose departed, Lord Stark turned to Robb and tilted his head to the side, ushering him to follow.
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They made their way to his father's solar. Inside the fire was lit and welcoming. Without speaking, they sat on the chairs next to the fire.
"What was that about?" Robb asked.
"I wanted him to meet with us before dinner. As you know, Jon wants him on the small council. We need to keep Roose happy until we find out what he is up to. A special meeting between Jon and Lord Bolton would go a long way to create unity. We cannot afford him to feel ostracized."
"Where is Jon? I thought he'd be here."
"It appears Blizzard is ready to leave us. Jon would like to introduce him to our latest visitors while saying goodbye to those who have helped raise him thus far. Although I suspect your sister has a hand in this."
"Having Blizzard with Jon and Sansa is a show of power. The news will soon make its way south."
His father's lips turned into a smile. "I believe that is their intention."
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When Jon tasked Robb with the role of Master of Laws, Robb believed it to be a minor role. However, when he returned to his chambers he found several books on his desk. Robb ran his hand along the top one, called Laws of the North, passed since the ascension of Aegon the Conqueror, volume one, by Maester Oakley. Robb counted the large volumes, there were six in total. With a sigh, Robb sat at his desk. He put the other five books to one side, poured himself a tankard of ale and opened the book.
The first part of the book was dedicated to the tale of Torrhen Stark bending the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Robb knew the tale, as did all northern children. However, Maester Oakley turned an interesting story into the most excruciatingly boring tome.
After half an hour of reading, Robb's eyes drooped. He yawned and stretched, trying to keep his eyes open. How did Jon know which books Robb would need, he wondered with a deep sigh, before turning the page.
Just as he read the same line for the fourth time, a distant sound distracted him. It was a screech, but nothing like he'd heard from Blizzard before. The sound was deeper, more akin to a roar.
Robb scraped his chair back and rushed to the window. He knew where Blizzard was being kept, and from which direction he would fly. With a deft hand, he opened the window, letting in the cool air and a few snowflakes.
Off in the distance was a dark speck in the air, growing every passing second. In less than a minute, the speck had turned into an enormous winged beast, which stopped and landed where he saw Jon and Sansa waiting.
Screams could be heard coming from the courtyard, and Robb knew he needed to make his way there, to help quell any fear from those unfamiliar with the dragon.
By the time Robb reached the courtyard, most of the Lords and Ladies had assembled to get a better look at how different the dragon was.
Blizzard was enormous. The cuteness of his face was fading, and now he understood how terrifying a dragon could look. It had been less than a sennight since the last time Robb saw the baby dragon, but it might as well be years considering how much he'd grown and changed. Blizzard opened his mouth and gave, what Robb could only assume, was a grin. Yet the effect felt very different, it was almost sinister. The white teeth were the size of Greywind's head.
At the thought of his direwolf, the rest of the pack appeared and rushed over to the dragon, nuzzling and greeting him as if he were another wolf. Robb wondered whether they would feel the same after Blizzard visited Valyria.
Jon approached him. His eyes crinkled and an uncontrollable smile captured his lips.
"He's grown," Robb eyed Blizzard with an air of caution.
"Aye, but he's still the same clumsy hatchling, who likes you to read him stories."
Proving his point, Shireen ran up to Blizzard and threw her arms around his neck. The dragon purred and enveloped her in his wings. A gasp echoed around the crowd, concern as to the welfare of Lady of Storms End. She emerged unscathed, her cheeks bathed in tears of joy at seeing her friend once more.
Robb and Jon approached them. Only then could he see the tears held a sadness to them. Shireen knew she was about to lose the baby dragon she loved. Once Blizzard returned from the fourteen flames, he would be an entirely different beast.
"He'll still want you to read him stories when he returns," Jon promised the girl with the greyscale scar on one side of her face.
"Will he be the same dragon? I mean, on the inside?"
Jon gave her a reassuring smile. "Aye, he will be no different to those he loves and trusts. He might look and sound different, but we all change as we grow up. To those who don't know him and are our enemies… well, he might not be so friendly," he winked.
"Are you going to ride him when he returns?" Shireen's face glowed with excitement.
"I am," Jon nodded. "Would you like to take a ride with me? After all, you have dragon blood."
Shireen's eyes sparkled, as the tears were drying from her eyes. "Ooh, please. I'd love to."
"I'm sure he'll be as eager to have you on his back as you will be to ride him," Jon promised. "Now, please excuse me, my Lady, it is time for us all to say goodbye."
Shireen stepped aside, and Jon held out his hand, gesturing to Robb that it was his turn to say goodbye.
With some trepidation, Robb approached the beast. Blizzard cocked his head in confusion at Robb's reaction. He looked almost disappointed. The hatchling was still there, and Robb was sure of that. Robb held his hand out and ran it down Blizzard's shining white scales.
Much to Robb's surprise, the scales were no longer soft. They had hardened and felt like warm marble. He glanced at Jon who smiled and nodded, while Blizzard purred under his touch.
"You're leaving us, aren't you?" Robb asked. The dragon replied with a high-pitched coo. "Don't be gone too long. We need you here."
Blizzard pressed his head against Robb, almost pushing him to the ground, raising a chuckle across the courtyard.
"Be a good boy!" Robb told him, turning away and allowing others to say their goodbyes.
Robb watched on as those who had grown close to Blizzard took turns saying goodbye. He cast his eyes around the courtyard towards the onlookers. It wasn't long before his gaze rested upon that of Roose Bolton.
The man's face betrayed no fear, unlike his trembling wife. The faces of Lady Dustin, Lord Ryswell and Lord Hornwood betrayed their fear and awe of the creature. Dragons had been extinct for over a hundred and fifty years. Yet, here was one in the flesh. If Robb hadn't grown used to Blizzard in the short time he'd been at Winterfell, he would have felt the same trepidation and awe.
When it came to Jon and Sansa saying their goodbyes, neither could hold back their tears. To those who weren't skin-changers, it would be difficult to explain. Jon told Robb his bond with Blizzard was like the one he shared with Ghost, only more intense.
It wasn't hard for Robb to understand. When he was in the skin of Greywind, the dragon became his brother, part of the pack. Just a flying direwolf who could breathe fire. Robb knew if he were to be separated from Greywind, he would find saying goodbye difficult.
Blizzard wrapped his wings around Jon and Sansa. A loud cooing sound broke the silence of the courtyard. The dragon was feeling the emotion just as much as his parents. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Blizzard let them go. They walked away and turned to watch Blizzard leave. However, the dragon wanted to leave a lasting impact.
Blizzard spread his enormous wings and raised his head in the air. He let out an almighty roar, followed by a stream of bright red flames.
Screams erupted from the yard, as Blizzard put one foot in front of the other, picking up speed. The Lords, Ladies, and Smallfolk scattered, believing the dragon would trample them. Instead, he beat his wings, and after four steps, he soared into the skies. Within seconds, his white scales had rendered him almost invisible.
Another roar and a blast of red flames gave away his position. And then he was gone. But Robb knew it wasn't for long. What concerned him was how he would be affected by his trip to Old Valyria. However, that concern was for another day. Instead, he returned to his chambers to read the dull book of laws he had started on.
