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When they rode into the courtyard of castle black, Greatjon Umber heaved a sigh of relief. They had ridden hard for more than a fortnight, ever since word of Stannis Baratheons presence at the wall had reached them.
The guards at the gate had told them to wait. That the newly elected Lord Commander was busy with Stannis. Their attitude towards the Baratheon had given him hope. And if the Lord Commander had been elected not that long ago, Stannis wouldn't have had much time to bring him to his side.
After staying at Riverrun they were used to the hustle and bustle of a busy keep and Castle Black seemed even more dreary in comparison, only a few men quietly going about their way, speaking in low tones.
The keep itself had obviously seen better days but it was in good enough repair to be functional. But the amount of men out and about was concerning. If the threat from beyond the wall was as dire as the Late Lord Commander had made it out to be, a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred men were not going to be enough. And Jeor Mormont had not been a man prone to exaggeration or jumping at shadows.
The feeling of unease intensified at the resigned look on the faces of the men he saw. They knew they did not have the numbers but were clearly not expecting any support.
Suddenly two voices drifted into the courtyard, firmer than the mutterings of the men in the yard and all the easier to make out.
Up on the ramparts, the men the voices belonged to came into view.
The dour look on the older ones face made him almost certainly Stannis Baratheon. That, and the man he was speaking to was clad all in the black of the Nights Watch and also much too young to be Stannis.
That one must be the new Lord Commander then. The Greatjon winced. The man, no the boy , looked almost criminally young. He would eat his horse, saddle and all, if he was older than two and twenty. This was not looking good. Stannis Baratheon was an experienced Commander and veteran of several wars. He would run roughshod over the young Lord Commander and have the boy in his pocket before long, if he didn't already.
By the tense silence that had fallen over the men behind him they feared the same. But when he turned to listen to the two men speak he was surprised to hear the Lord Commander speak to Stannis Baratheon with an astonishingly even demeanor and an edge to his voice that made it clear there was steel underneath the veneer of politeness.
"We appreciate the help you have rendered us Ser, but if we had known you would demand recompense we could have gone without. We always have before. The Nights Watch cannot be beholden to a single monarch. We guard the realms of men, not the iron throne and whoever wishes to sit upon it."
"I am merely offering you an opportunity Lord Commander. You are under no obligation to take it. But think on it. Once the war is won I would release you from your vows and legitimize you."
The Lord Commanders gaze hardened into what could almost be called a glare. A bold move when dealing with kings, even ones you weren't beholden to.
"I heard you the first time and my answer remains the same."
"Watch how you speak to your king" one of Stannis` men said venomously.
The young Lord Commander looked unimpressed, despite being surrounded by half a dozen of Stannis` men, all of whom had their hand on their swords now.
"If I offered you insult I apologize. That was not my intention. But I took you for a man who appreciates honesty."
"I do."
"Good. I appreciate if we can be honest with each other."
He paused for a second and when he spoke again he seemed… different. He hadn't noticeably straightened his posture but somehow his bearing changed and where he had seemed unimpressed before, now he seemed almost imperious. Certainly more than Stannis himself. As unmovable as the Wall he defended and just as cold. The look in his grey eyes seemed as hard as Valyrian steel.
"You asked me to bring the Nights Watch to your cause and as Lord Commander I have given you my answer. If you want my opinion as a man I must tell you this: I'm a Northerner, Lord Stannis. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark."
The Greatjon felt his heart leap, almost unable to believe that their worries had been for naught. He could hear the men behind him shifting in the absolute silence that had fallen over the yard, but his gaze remained fixed on the scene before them, needing to see Stannis' response.
The Baratheon King visibly ground his teeth but gave a curt nod. Recognizing the dismissal for what it was the Lord Commander nodded in return, but, after a short moment of hesitation, didn't yet make to leave.
"I know it's not the answer you wanted, it's probably not even the answer you expected. And maybe I'm a fool for saying it but I am sick of biting my tongue."
His grey eyes narrowed warily.
"But quite frankly Lord Stannis, even if I wanted what you offer me, nobody trusts you. Not all of us are so willing to stab our brothers in the back for the sake of power and we will never trust a man who did."
One of Stannis` men moved towards him at that but froze when a low rumbling growl echoed in the courtyard. Two direwolves slunk out of the shadows and stopped next to the Lord Commander.
The Greatjon blinked. He had never seen the white wolf in his life but the other one he was well acquainted with.
But the young man looked just as surprised as everyone else. Staring at the wolf that had growled at the man looking to attack him.
"Greywind?!"
He looked around the courtyard with wide eyes.
With his formerly icy demeanor gone he suddenly looked very young. And with a start the Greatjon realized that the Lord Commander was even younger than he had first thought. Probably no older than the young King on the horse next to him.
Looking at his King he found that his eyes were fixed on the man on the ramparts, looking back down at him with the same intense expression. Then, after a moment of tense silence the King in the North dismounted, throwing the reigns of his horse at the man on his left.
The Lord Commander, and the Greatjon had a sneaking suspicion as to his identity, practically flew down the steps into the courtyard.
A few hurried steps towards the other and the two young men crashed into each other, clinging to the other like they were afraid that if they did not hold on tight enough, the other would vanish.
After a long few moments King Robb let go of the other enough to take his head into both hands. He stared into his eyes intently for a few more seconds before leaning their foreheads against each other.
Eyes closed they stood there, trembling.
Seeing them next to each other it quickly became obvious that his hunch had been right. The boy could be no one else but Ned's bastard. Many had questioned the late Lord Starks decision to raise his bastard son alongside his trueborn children, convinced that it would only breed jealousy and resentment.
But seeing them now the Greatjon felt vindicated in his defence of his old friend.
The two brothers obviously loved each other despite the difference of their births.
There was something to be said, the Greatjon thought, for King Robb having earned the loyalty and the love of his bastard brother, to the point that the boy would deny someone offering him the status he had always been denied. To shut it down so completely and even be insulted at the offer.
And he could hear the men who had come with them whispering much the same among themselves with no little awe.