Robb considered his life in the alternative world his siblings and Jon had lived. How did he feel when he was proclaimed King in the North? Was he more confident in his abilities? Mayhap he was arrogant. He had been younger when his father had died and gone to war with the Lannisters. Robb had already outlived his other self. The thought sent a shiver of dread down his spine. The choices he made in the other timeline were his downfall. Those choices were unlikely to come to pass with his new knowledge. Was this why Jon was reluctant to allow him a greater position on his council?
No matter, Robb would not make the same mistakes. This war would be different. It was no longer about him being King and exacting revenge. He was trying to help his brother save Westeros. There was more at stake than his last war. Even if the Lannisters didn't realise Robb was fighting for their survival, too.
By sending Robb south to ready Moat Cailin for the passing army, Jon had all but confirmed the role of Master of Laws was one of little value. Jon wouldn't be sending Robb away if it was.
Robb going to Moat Cailin wasn't exactly glamorous or filled with excitement. It would be cold and dirty, but at least he was doing something useful. He knew Jon had another job for him, one which he had been told about, but couldn't remember because he was drunk at the time.
After Robb visited Maester Luwin, he headed towards the small council room, where he was to meet with Sansa and his uncle the Blackfish. Jon was occupied with sparring with Arya but would join them later. Robb was glad for the respite. At times it felt like hard work trying to remember to call Jon his grace when all of their lives, Robb had been the most important brother.
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The fires had been lit in the council room. The orange flames licked the unadorned stone walls, casting a warm glow around the room. The autumn sun was lower in the skies and offered little light into what was once a storage room in Maester Luwin's tower. Therefore beeswax candles were scattered to ensure the gathering could see what was in front of them. In attendance was Robb, along with Sansa, Roose Bolton and his uncle Brynden as well as Lord Cerwyn, whom the Blackfish had invited to the meeting.
Laid out on the table was ale, some black bread and beef dripping with salt on the side, and some cheese. In the middle of the table was a detailed map of the Causeway, the Neck, and Moat Cailin.
Once they were gathered and seated, Robb started the meeting. "Lord Bolton, Lord Brynden, you both have recently travelled through Moat Cailin. I would have your thoughts on the state of it," he turned to Roose. "Lord Bolton, if you'd like to start…"
"On my trip south, the Causeway was in perilous condition. Both below and above the Neck. It is nothing more than a giant bog. The horses struggled with the mud. The wood is rotten and has sunk in places." Roose turned to the Blackfish. "Was your experience of the same ilk?"
Brynden nodded. "There's some log and plank laying across the Causeway pretending to be a road. But one misstep and your horse will lose a shoe at best, most likely to break a leg or worse. You need to be careful."
"Would either of you recommend carpenters go on ahead before Robb and the soldiers?" Sansa looked up from the notes she'd been making.
"I thought you only wanted foot soldiers," Lord Cerwyn furrowed his brow.
Robb nodded at Lord Cerwyn before acknowledging his question. "There will be a mixture of foot and mounted soldiers." He turned to back Roose. "Do you have any spare carpenters?"
"None who are fully qualified, although I think apprentices will be enough to lay the road. Some of the soldiers could go on ahead and start building a road. As long as there is sufficient wood available, laying a usable surface wouldn't be difficult. Although, I wouldn't recommend wood. A hard-wearing road needs to be built of stone."
"To cover the causeway in stone would take months, if not years," the Blackfish argued. "If what King Jon says is true, then we don't have time to lay a stone road before the whitewalkers arrive. Not only that, but it would sink just as quick as wood."
"Lord Bolton, the roads will be updated when Jon takes the Iron Throne," Sansa said. "The state of the Causeway is part of the northern defence. Our horses and men are used to trekking through such conditions, unlike the southerners. Part of the reason for the neck being treacherous is to act as a defence."
Robb nodded his head in agreement. "Winter is coming, Lord Bolton. What use is a stone road when it is covered in snow. Once winter is over and we have defeated the whitewalkers, then I'm sure Jon will revisit the proposals."
Roose sucked in his cheeks and furrowed his brow. "You will take no cart south. The men can walk through and a strong garron or mule would suffice, but you will not get a cart through the mud."
"We could make wooden tracks," Sansa suggested. "Only lay enough planks to be used by carts. They would be re-useable, hence no need for too many trees to be chopped down and fewer lumberjacks to be allocated. We need every workman we can spare at Winterfell."
"It would slow the procession down." Robb said.
"But it would be effective," Roose gave Sansa a smile and a nod of appreciation. Sansa returned the smile of gratitude, but Robb noticed it was fake, she had put her mask up. "The costs would be lower and once you have passed through the Causeway and the Neck, the wood will build fires."
"My men would be quite capable of laying tracks without the need for carpenters," Lord Cerwyn said.
"We will need both carpenters and masons for the works to be carried out on Moat Cailin," Robb said. "We can send fifty men out in three days to lay the tracks. The day after, the masons and carpenters will leave with a guard of fifty more. I will take the rest of the men by the end of the week."
They spent an hour revising their plans before finishing for the day to allow Lord Cerwyn to amass the troops needed to set off for Moat Cailin. Sansa departed, her task was to oversee the preparation of the wood.
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Robb walked towards the practice yard, where he watched Jon and Arya spar. Jon's hangover was slowing him down, but he could still overpower her. By the end of their match, Jon pointed his dulled blade against Arya's neck and she yielded. He held his hand out, yanking her arm to help her stand. As Robb clapped his hands at the show, Jon made his way over, while Arya skulked off towards the armoury, unhappy in defeat.
"Well met, your grace. I thought your sword would be slower after last night's fun."
Jon laughed as he led them to the armoury. There he returned his sword, picked a cloth and wiped the dirt from his face and hands.
"I was. Arya took pity upon me and offered to use a sparring blade to even up our match. It was too heavy for her, and I had recovered more than she expected.
'You mean you pretended?"
Jon merely smirked. "How did the meeting go?"
"Lord Cerwyn has agreed to the soldiers. The Causeway is in a terrible state. We need wood to build temporary tracks for the carts."
"Do we have enough wood and men?"
Jon lifted the training vest over his head and replaced it with his doublet.
"Aye, just about. We'll send soldiers and some carpenter's apprentices to lay the roads for the carts. Sansa is securing the lumber."
"Ironwood, I would hope."
"Sansa wouldn't accept anything less," Robb said, knowing his sister's penchant for wanting the best.
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Once Jon cleaned the bulk of the mud from his arms and face, he and Robb returned to the family living quarters inside the Great Keep. They entered Robb's room as Jon wanted their conversation to be private. Jon made it clear Sansa was not to be privy to this information. Robb poured them each a horn of ale and handed it to Jon.
"So, tell me cousin, what do you want me to do about the Freys? Should I take up baking, as Arya suggested to me the other day?"
Jon choked on his ale. "She did what?"
"Aye, she even gave me a recipe for the pie."
"No! All I want you to do is to negotiate a peaceful crossing. And for you to ensure no promises of marriages."
"What can I offer him?" Robb asked.
"A place for one of his sons and one of his daughters, or granddaughters at court."
"And if he refuses?"
"Tell him he will lose the Twins. If that is not enough, threaten him with Blizzard."
Robb eyed his cousin carefully. Jon had promised not to use Blizzard unless it was necessary. Was Walder Frey's refusal to let them cross be a sufficient reason to burn the entire family? Could Jon even carry out such a barbarous act?
"Would you go through with it?"
"I am not Daenerys. I won't burn someone just because they won't bend the knee. However, we need to cross the Twins. If we don't, we won't be able to beat the Lannisters. My word must be seen to be true. If they do not let us cross, I will arrive with Blizzard and give them a final chance. Should they still refuse, they will die. As soon as my plans are known, the Freys will side with the Lannisters. They have close family ties. Whatever they say will be a lie."
"How can you be certain Lord Walder will lie? Things might be different this time. The Boltons…"
"Roose Bolton recently wed Lady Walda. Genna Lannister is married to Emmon Frey, and Lancel is about to wed Amerei Frey. Although that was dissolved in our previous life and I see no reason for that to change."
Robb turned up his nose in disgust. "Gatehouse Ami, Lord Walder's granddaughter?"
"The very one."
"What do you think will happen?"
"Lord Walder will haggle and eventually let us pass under the threat of dragonfire," Jon said. "As our men march south, he will tell the Lannisters, but let us pass. After that he will double-cross us." Jon put a hand on Robb's shoulder. "Whatever happens, you must return to Moat Cailin before we march south."
"When do you expect Blizzard to return?"
Jon rolled his eyes back, warging into the dragon. After a few moments, his eyes returned to normal, and a smile crept across his lips.
"Blizzard is in Valyria. He need not stay long, just enough time to absorb magic from the fourteen flames. I would expect him to be back in Westeros within a moon. He will be more visible on his return. People need to know dragons have returned to Westeros." Jon stood. "I should return to my chambers and bathe. Sansa will kill me if I'm still muddy when she returns."
Robb and Jon shook hands before he left. He turned to the fire and stared into the orange flames. For the first time since his siblings returned from a future where Robb died, he felt nervous. Something in the pit of his stomach told him this was a terrible idea and not to go to the Twins. But if he didn't, Jon's army couldn't go south.
Ignoring the sour feeling in his stomach, Robb sat at his ironwood desk. He took out some parchment and made plans for his departure south.
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A sennight later and the morning of Robb's departure arrived. The uncomfortable feeling he'd initially felt had not gone away. Robb put it down to knowing his fate after treating with the Freys in their alternate timeline. This time he was not negotiations with Walder Frey empty-handed. At least he had the promise of a dragon should Lord Walder not agree to their request.
Robb tried to break his fast, but his stomach churned at the thought of leaving Winterfell. Putting it aside, he made his way to the courtyard, where one of the stable lads was readying his horse for the journey. Robb descended upon the stables and collected his saddle-bags, which he filled with the necessities for his journey.
"I ought to go with you. I've known Lord Walder since I was a little girl," Lady Catelyn said, making Robb jump. He turned around and plastered a fake smile on his face.
"I'm just going to Moat Cailin, mother," Robb said, the lie grating on his tongue.
His mother walked over and cupped his face in her hands. "I'm not the fool you think I am, Robb. Jon would be an idiot to send you south just to oversee the building of Moat Cailin. It isn't like you can do much with it. His grace has asked you to treat with Lord Walder, hasn't he?"
Robb continued to pack his saddle bags, distracting himself while he planned his lie. But he found only the truth would satisfy her.
"Aye, I'll be treating with Lord Walder, mother. Do not fret, I am not about to promise myself or my siblings to any of his brood."
"What do you plan on offering him?" she asked.
"That is between Jon and myself," Robb said.
"I want to go with you."
"Mother…"
"I'll ask Jon, or Sansa. Surely…" she said, but stopped as Robb shook his head.
"Jon has yet to tell Sansa of the plan," Robb said, immediately regretting his words, for his mother narrowed her eyes.
"When does he plan to tell her? I thought they kept no secrets."
"Most likely later today."
"After you have gone, and it is too late. I will not have it," Lady Stark said, turning on her heel and leaving in search of Jon and Sansa.
Robb put his saddle bag on the floor and ran after his mother. When he caught up with her, he grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him.
"If you say anything, it will cause trouble," Robb said, his voice full of warning.
"Good!" his mother said, shaking him off and storming back to the castle in search of Jon and Sansa.
Robb quickly fell into step after her as she made her way to their quarters. She rapped her knuckles on the ironwood door and waited. Moments later, Jon answered the door. Robb gave Jon an apologetic look as he let them in.
"What is going on, mother?" Sansa asked, wrapping a robe around her shift clad body. Robb noticed Jon was wearing a tunic and breeches. His eyes were drawn to the bed, which was still unmade. The blush which reached Sansa's cheeks told both Robb and his mother all they needed to know why they were not yet dressed.
"Sansa, has your husband told you why Robb is going south?"
I'm sorry, Robb mouthed to Jon, who waved his hand and shook his head.
"He is to oversee the rebuild of Moat Cailin. If I had given the order, I would also expect him ask Lord Walder for permission to cross the Twins."
"Did he ask you for your counsel on this matter?" Catelyn demanded.
"Jon doesn't need to seek my guidance. He is King and all decisions are his to make. I know entrusting me with his ideas, is more than most Queens would be allowed. More than that, Jon is only doing what I would do in his position."
"Would you have told Robb to keep it to himself?"
"Of course I would. Walls have ears, mother. We can't allow everyone to know our plans. There are people in this castle who do not want us to succeed. It is best we keep this to ourselves."
"I wish to join him."
"I think not, Lady Stark," Jon intervened. "This is for Robb to negotiate."
"I know Lord Walder!" his mother argued.
"And where did that get you last time?" Sansa argued. "Leave this to Robb. He has already proved himself to be an excellent ambassador with his trip through the North."
Robb was stunned Sansa would deal such a low blow, but it was effective. His mother stood there, gawping at her daughter as if she were a fish. It was Jon who intervened.
"I am grateful for the offer, Lady Stark. However, I must decline. The instructions I have given Robb would be better coming from someone who Lord Walder does not know, and it must be a man."
Robb's mother took a deep breath as her cheeks flamed. He could tell she was angry. To confirm his fears, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Robb waited for her footsteps to disappear before being the first to speak.
"Sorry," he apologised. "She guessed that there was something else to my trip to Moat Cailin."
Jon placed his hand at the nape of his neck. "Do not fret, brother. All will be well."
"Bran should be with us on the morrow. That should satisfy her for some time," Sansa smiled. "Go, finish readying yourself. We will join you in a few minutes."
Robb nodded his head to their lack of formal clothing and raised an eyebrow. Sansa laughed at him and grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him around.
"Go saddle your horse and we will join you. I promise," she said, ushering him out of the room.
"Thank you, your graces," Robb called out as the door behind him slammed shut. "I know when I'm not welcome," he laughed as he made his way back to the stables.
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Half an hour later and Robb was almost ready. The men were already making their way out of East Gate and onwards to the Kingsroad. Robb had his saddle-bags on his shoulder, as he made to say his goodbyes.
His father gave him a hug as did his mother, although her expression worried Robb. She looked too determined, which usually meant trouble. He received a hug from Rickon and Arya, and tears from Sansa. He turned to Jon.
Robb grasped hold of Jon's hand. "Farewell, Snow."
"And you, Stark."
"Next time I see you, you'll be a Targaryen all in black."
Jon pulled the strangest face and swallowed hard, confusing Robb, but he said nothing. "It always was my colour," he said. They hugged and Robb fastened the saddle bags to his horse, grabbed the reins and mounted the chestnut garron.
"I wish you good fortune, Stark," Jon called out.
"And you, your grace," Robb said with a bow of his head. He turned kicked his heels and started out towards the Kingsroad.