If you're enjoying these stories, consider leaving a comment, review, or vote.
You can also visit the Pat** on at: CaveLeather
Inside the Great Hall of Winterfell, the hearth crackled and popped. High above, the direwolf banner of House Stark hung proudly, presiding over the assembled bannermen of the North.
The Karstarks of Karhold, the Manderlys of White Harbor, the Boltons of the Dreadfort, Maege Mormont of Bear Island... a host of lords and ladies had gathered.
With the exception of the Greatjon of Last Hearth, who was too far north, and the chieftains of the mountain clans, nearly every major vassal of the North was present.
Barely three months after returning home, Robb had summoned his banners again. However, this wasn't a full-scale mobilization for war. They were facing "bandits"—or more accurately, a wildling invasion.
The defenses along the Wall had become porous under constant wildling harassment, and reports of attacks were coming in from all across the northernmost parts of the North. Organizing a military response had become unavoidable.
"Ser Wylis, since White Harbor is in the south, you need not raise levies. Instead, prepare the supplies needed for five thousand men," Robb commanded. After the recent war, he had grown accustomed to his role as the "Voice of the North."
"My Prince," Wylis Manderly stood up, looking troubled. "Gathering supplies for five thousand men on such short notice... House Manderly has only just answered the call not long ago..."
Robb's expression darkened. Wylis looked even fatter than when Robb had last seen him in White Harbor.
Robb knew that despite his military achievements, giving up his crown had severely damaged his prestige.
A Prince, after all, was not a King.
"Then prepare supplies for three thousand first. Winterfell will cover the rest," Robb compromised. "My lords, the weather grows colder by the day. One-third of the North's lands can no longer support crops. We cannot allow the wildlings to raid unchecked. Winter is coming. If we do not act, our food shortages in the coming years will be catastrophic. For this campaign against the wildlings, Winterfell will provide three thousand men. Lord Rickard Karstark, Karhold will provide one thousand."
"At once, my Prince." As kin to the Starks, House Karstark offered no objection.
"Lady Maege, five hundred from you."
"At once, Your Grace."
"Lord Bolton, two thousand."
"My Prince, the Dreadfort may not be able to spare so many hands at once. We are rushing to bring in the harvest. How about one thousand?"
Roose Bolton began to haggle. Five hundred men might seem small, but it was a start—a precedent to bargain further in the future.
"One thousand five hundred spearmen! I will compensate you for any crops lost due to the delay!"
Robb frowned as he spoke. Seeing his insistence, Roose Bolton said no more.
Robb had done the math. Even though they were only facing wildlings, ten thousand men was the minimum requirement.
The North was vast, and the wildlings were scattered. He needed to deal with them quickly so he could return to Winterfell's traditional practice of stockpiling grain.
Soon, wheat would no longer grow, and they would be reduced to planting turnips.
He believed ten thousand men were enough. This wasn't just confidence in his own ability; there was a hint of rivalry involved.
Perhaps I am not Jon's equal in other matters, but in war, I will not be outdone.
In his eagerness, Robb had almost forgotten Jon's advice: Treat the wildlings with mercy first; suppression second. Focus on recruitment and integration.
Robb instinctively turned to his side, where Maester Luwin usually stood. But today, the space was empty. Luwin was attending to Robb's wife, Jeyne, who was in labor.
Jeyne wasn't due today, but she had slipped this morning, forcing an early delivery. Robb's body was in the hall, but his heart was in the birthing chamber.
"My Prince," Roose Bolton spoke up suddenly. "I hear children conceived during wartime are stronger. Surely your child will be a conqueror like you."
"Thank you for your blessing, Lord Bolton."
Roose's words soothed Robb. The excitement of becoming a father fluttered in his chest.
In this timeline, Roose Bolton hadn't done anything destructive yet, so he appeared to be a loyal, if quiet, bannerman.
At most, he seemed merely cautious, and his darker nature hadn't yet been exposed. So Robb harbored no ill will toward him.
"Have you chosen a name for the little Prince?" Maege Mormont asked.
Everyone knew the answer. It would almost certainly be Eddard.
Just as Robb was about to speak, a maid ran in. "My Prince! My Lady has birthed twins!"
Inside the warm room that had once belonged to Catelyn, the family gathered around two tiny new lives.
Jeyne looked pale and weak, but happiness spilled from her eyes.
Two small heads nestled against their mother, one on each side. Jeyne had asked to be propped up on pillows so she could see more of her family.
Robb, Catelyn, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. The North was cold, but this scene warmed Jeyne's heart.
Maester Luwin had delivered the babies safely. Mother and children were healthy.
---
"Robb, both children are healthy. As you planned, this one is Eddard, and this one is Lyanna," Catelyn said, pointing to the steaming bundles.
The boy, Eddard, had the grey eyes of a Stark. The girl, Lyanna, had blue eyes. This perfect inheritance pleased Catelyn greatly.
"You did well, Jeyne," Robb said, holding her hand and kissing her forehead gently.
Sansa and Arya were leaning over the cribs, cooing at their niece and nephew.
"When can they play with me?" Rickon asked suddenly.
His question drew laughter from the room. The arrival of new life had washed away much of the lingering sorrow.
"Alright," Catelyn said. "Jeyne needs rest. Go on, do your duties."
After the others left, the room felt empty. Catelyn pulled Robb outside.
"Are you going to war with the wildlings?"
"Yes, Mother. They raided a village near Last Hearth recently. If we don't stop them, our grain storage plans will be disrupted."
"I'll send Ser Cassel with you. You're a father now. Be careful."
"I will."
Catelyn remembered that Ned had worried about the wildlings before he died, intending to lead an army north to deal with the threat.
It was only right that the son finished what the father could not.
"One more thing, Robb. I didn't have the heart to tell you while you were receiving your lords, but Jon has taken Casterly Rock."
"What?!" Robb's eyes went wide, and he leaned in close to his mother.
"Yes. Jon has taken Casterly Rock. The news came from the Citadel. Jon sent Tywin's head to Oldtown, and they are sending it on to King's Landing." Catelyn's voice trembled with suppressed excitement. "You should tell the bannermen. It will help secure your rule over the North."
Robb took the advice instantly. He turned back and announced the news of Jon's victory and Tywin's death to the assembled lords.
Sure enough, Roose Bolton and the others were shocked. Especially those who had marched west with Robb—they knew firsthand how impossible Casterly Rock was to take.
"Jon is truly remarkable! Lord Eddard would be so proud!" Maege Mormont cheered, having been saved by Jon once before. Harrion Karstark agreed, praising Jon's work.
"Hahaha! No more golden-haired lions in the world!"
Watching their reactions, Roose Bolton and Wylis Manderly spoke up at the same time. "My Prince..."
They looked at each other awkwardly, gesturing for the other to speak first.
Finally, Roose Bolton said, "Perhaps my memory failed me. The Dreadfort has some new recruits in training. I can spare another thousand men for the campaign."
"That would be excellent."
"Lord Bolton should stop using leeches. Maybe they're sucking your memory out along with your blood?" Maege joked, but Roose just smiled silently.
In the North, the Starks were divided into the main branch and the Karstarks. The Karstarks had been carved out of Bolton lands specifically to check the Dreadfort's power.
Now, with Jon conquering the West, House Stark was stronger than ever.
Perhaps in a hundred years, the blood ties between Casterly Rock and Winterfell would fade. But as long as Jon lived, the two were absolute allies.
Roose Bolton realized his legitimized bastard Ramsay was of average ability. He shouldn't plot anything against the Starks before he died.
In fact, he had to worry about Jon giving Robb ideas to make life difficult for him.
Sure enough, Wylis Manderly echoed Roose. He claimed White Harbor had "just happened" to sell a shipment of goods, so providing supplies for five thousand men wouldn't be a problem after all.
Robb didn't press the issue. He knew his brother had helped him once again.
After the meeting, the lords lingered for a day or two before riding home. They would muster their forces near the Long Lake in a month and march north.
While Robb prepared for war, Catelyn wasn't idle. As promised, she needed to go to Casterly Rock for the wedding.
Before she left, Jeyne asked Catelyn to bring back a piece of clothing or a cloak worn by Jon. She said that according to the customs of the Crag, it would bring protection and good luck to the children.