Chapter 2: Chapter II – March

Blood and Winter

War in the Riverlands

Chapter II - March

Adjusting the strap of his fur cloak, and checking that his sword was strapped firmly to his waist, Robb turned to face his younger brothers. Rickon was standing beside Maester Luwin, the aged man having to hold the young boy's hand to stop him from running off. The young boy's Direwolf, Shaggydog beside him.

Beside him, Hodor, the large stable boy and a loyal vassal of House Stark stood protectively over another young boy. The boy's name was Brandon Stark, or Bran the Cripple, he'd overheard a few men refer to him as such in hushed tones. He hadn't been able to identify who had said those things, but if he did he'd show them that one did not insult a Stark lightly.

"You'll be good for Maester Luwin?" He asked, crouching down to Rickon. But the young boy didn't answer just turning his head away imperiously, Shaggydog growling angrily at his side. As much as it saddened him, Robb should have expected no less, Rickon had not been happy that his mother, father and sisters had gone south, but now he, his elder brother was also going.

He felt betrayed and alone.

"He'll be fine, my lord." Maester Luwin spoke in the young boy's stead, hoping to put Robb at ease before he marched south. It didn't do much, but Robb appreciated the sentiment.

Nodding his head, Robb stood up and turned to Bran. "I'll trust Winterfell in your hands, Bran. There must always be a Stark here." His words were meant less as a reminder of duty, Maester Luwin and many other loyal men and women would help run Winterfell in his stead, but they were instead meant to be words of encouragement, a reminder that he was a Stark and with a family that loved him.

Bran nodded his head, he didn't say anything either and Robb felt his heart drop. Here he was marching south to free his fathers and brothers, and his brothers seemed to hate him for it, for leaving them.

Yet, despite this, Robb knew he had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, spun on his heel and walked towards his steed held in place by one of the stable boys. Pulling himself up, he settled comfortably on the horse and looked over the assembly of Lords, heirs and noble sons and daughters in his courtyard.

He could see Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort.

Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island and her daughter, Dacey Mormont.

Lord Greatjon Umber of Last Hearth and his son, Smalljon Umber.

Lord Medger Cerwyn of Castle Cerwyn.

Lord Gregor Forrester of Ironrath and his son, Rodrick Forrester.

Lord Galbart Glover of Deepwood Motte.

Lord Halyns Hornwood of Hornwood and his son, Daryn Hornwood.

Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold and his sons, Harrion, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark.

As he urged his horse forward, they all fell in line behind him. His actions, or should he say those of his Direwolf at the feast earlier this week had earned their respect and despite being the youngest of all the lords here, there was no dispute as to who was in charge.

Along the way, he discretely glanced at both Roose and Theon who had fallen in closest behind him, beside the Greatjon.

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The visions he saw had confused him and worried him greatly. However, key bits helped him to piece some of them together, there was no context, no real information that could help him discover the truth behind how they would come to be. But he could at least see what they could possibly mean. From those haunting words, it was quite easy for him to learn that the wolf and the lion indicated House Stark and House Lannister, himself and Lord Tywin. From there, he guessed that the Kraken most likely meant the Greyjoys. But who in House Greyjoy did it symbolise?

Maester Luwin had advised him to err on the side of caution and so Robb had done so. Even then, he was worried. Did the symbol of the wolf mean House Stark and the North as a whole, or his brothers? And by that logic, did the Kraken symbolise Balon Greyjoy? Or did it symbolise Theon? As horrible and unbelievable as that thought was to him, the idea that Theon, someone he loved as a brother could betray him was something Robb couldn't fully comprehend.

The visions, they told him things, but also kept so much secret.

He didn't know how these visions would come about or even if they would and that is what gnawed at Robb the most.

Either way, he was forced to go forth with the plan he had set out and trust in those men he had left behind to guard Winterfell and his brothers.

With those two images in his mind, at least temporarily and partly solved, Robb had focused on the last vision. The one of a wolf entering two towers and coming out flayed alive. It hadn't taken long to partly figure out what it meant, he most likely would be betrayed by the Boltons, the flaying a past tradition of the ancient house. But the main thing that confirmed this for him was when he heard Roose Bolton's voice for the first time. It had taken every ounce of self-control to pounce and not cut the man down where he was when he heard the man speak. His voice was the one that gave those same words that haunted him day and night.

However, Robb hadn't.

For as much as he did not trust Roose Bolton, nor did many of the Lords in the North like him, he couldn't attack him for no reason. Especially not when the Lord of the Dreadfort was not guilty of any crime; yet.

If he spouted off about visions, Robb had no doubt his fellow lords would proclaim him to be the second iteration of the Mad King.

No, for now, he needed to be careful and focus on winning this war and defeating all his enemies. If the Boltons and the Greyjoys became so, then he'd crush them just like the Lannisters.

As the gates of Winterfell opened, Robb and his entourage passed through. Once he did, he was struck by the sight of the host waiting for him.

Twelve thousand men gathered at Winterfell, each waiting to march south to free his father from the Lannisters. They had been gathering over the course of days, a large camp had been set up outside, but today, the tents had been packed up and the fires put out.

Now the men stood in loose formation, the sigils hung high showing that all the Lords north of Winterfell had gathered, each of them answering his call to arms. With more to join as they marched down to Moat Cailin.

Robb fought hard to not let the awe and nervousness show on his face, the doubt that had been a constant in the back of his mind came to the forefront and he feared that it would show on his face. Luckily for him, many of his men despite their best efforts were too busy looking at his Direwolf, Grey Wind to notice his state of duress.

Despite only being a few days since the gathering of his bannermen and the incident between him and Greatjon, the creature had grown exponentially large. Whereas before he was no bigger than a normal dog, now he reached up to Robb's hip and he showed no sign of stopping.

Many had wagered that Robb would ride into battle on the beast's back.

That had gotten a chuckle out of many of them.

Remembering the levity of that night managed to calm Robb's nerves. His tense shoulders loosened as he looked straight forwards, his head held high and his face set into one of calm, collectiveness.

'We're coming father, me and the whole North are coming to free you and my sisters. And anyone that tries to stop us will feel our wrath, we'll bring blood and winter to the south. Winter is Coming.'

So, another chapter is done and I hope you all enjoyed it. Anyway, if you have any questions or suggestions, please let me know. 

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