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Chapter Text

Prologue

Robb Stark tried to maintain his honor and lost the war. The new king of winter will not take his throne. The wall will break, and the north will never see the sun after the long night.

The Kings of Winter are enraged. The lion has defeated the wolf that was meant to be crowned. The Old Gods watch as the winds of winter begin to stir.

Not all the wrongs can be undone. The knee can’t be unbent, the Lord can’t be unburnt and the cold of winter cannot be in the blood of a man not raised in the north. Eddard Stark was not a Winter King, and crippled the potential of his son.

Second chances do not erase the first, but they are a chance to learn. The Old Gods whisper that there will not be another, and the old Kings of Winter bow their heads. Robb Stark’s second chance will not be without its own trials, some things can never be changed.

Time turns back, and a gift is given, and a warning is spoken by the old kings to the new.

"Robb Stark, your father was raised in the south, and has forgotten the harshness of winter. To win a war, you must forsake your honor. To win this war you must remember the feeling of a knife in your back. Allies will remember, you will know them. A new ally can be found, if he lives. Time will not be bent again, some events are fixed in time. You will not know which. The North belongs to the direwolf, if you succeed. Remember,

Winter cares not for honor".

Chapter Text

Robb wakes with a gasp, hand reaching for his chest, expecting to feel the stickiness of blood, instead, only the wool of his shift - dry as a bone. As panic and adrenaline fade, he is able to take in his surroundings. 

Rather than the halls of the Twins, Robb was in his room in Winterfell. The pain he felt only moments ago was gone, replaced by a sense of unease. For him to be here, he would have had to escape the Twins, travel to Winterfell, and retaken the castle. Not even considering how fatal his injuries were. 

“This is impossible,” Robb thought, “I should be dead.” 

Robb can feel his breathing speed up as every awful scenario runs through his head. Was he being kept prisoner in Winterfell or was this some sort of afterlife? What had happened to his friends-were Dacey and SmallJon okay? And what of his mother, was she alright?

His vision started to blur and it felt as if no air was getting into his lungs. A ringing filled his head, and the world began to darken. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was his mother. 

* * * * *

“Well that was quick.” 

The voice startled Robb awake. This time, awareness came unusually quickly. He was in the godswood at Winterfell, dressed, with his crown digging into his head painfully. The godswood was covered in a thin layer of snow, and a man stood not five feet in front of him. The man was tall, with a greying beard and harsh grey eyes. The crown on the man’s head was identical to Robb’s own. 

“Who are you?” Robb asks, his voice surprisingly steady. 

The man smiled, bringing some light to an otherwise harsh face, “I suppose you wouldn’t recognize me, the statue at my tomb has long since crumbled. Although, you would think the crown would be a clue.”

The eyes were clearly the Stark eyes, same as his father’s and his sister’s. The claim that this man was an ancestor was clearly true. 

“You’re one of the Stark kings, from before Torrhen Stark bent the knee.” 

The smile faded, “Not before boy, and you should come up with a better description for your own ancestors.”

“You’re Torrhen Stark then.” Robb paused, “But how are you here, you died centuries ago.”

The sigh that emerged from the old king sounded like his father’s when recounting a meeting with the lords of the north. “I’m here because someone needs to tell you what's going on. Yes, I am in fact dead.” The grey eyes seem to stare into his soul. 

This smile is harsh and bitter, “and personally, I think the King who bent the knee sounds a lot better than the king who lost the north.” 

Robb flinches, the words cutting deep. Despite his best efforts, that title had begun to follow him around camps. Despite Smalljon and Dacey’s best efforts, he’d heard it more times than he cared to admit. The worst part, it was true. Once Theon had taken Winterfell, any security Robb had was ripped away along with his brothers. 

“Do you know why you lost?” Torrhen asks, looking at Robb with genuine curiosity.

Robb chuckled. “Where should I start? I married Jeyne and lost my alliance with Freys. I sent Theon to deal with his father, which lost me him and Winterfell. I let the Kingslayer get away and lost the trust of the lords who crowned me.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I won every battle I fought and lost in everything else.” Robb made eye contact with the old king, “Why do you ask?” 

Torrhen nodded, “At least you understand those mistakes boy. But do you know why you made them?” without waiting for a response the old king continued. “Your father valued honor above all else, in the end, it was a choice for him to choose your sister over his honor.” Robb watched as a look of disgust overtook Torrhen Stark’s face. “Stark’s do not prioritize honor. We are wolves, we care for the pack, and the pack must survive. He should have never needed to consider.” 

Robb felt a familiar sense of rage at those words. “My father-”

“Was a good man.” Torrhen interrupts him. “He was an honorable man, and he would have been the perfect choice to rule a southern kingdom like the Vale. He was not the right choice to rule the north.” 

Robb, despite his rage, paused. There was a bit of truth to it. As much as he loved his father, he clearly remembered the whispers of the Lords, about how his father was not raised as a northman. They respected him a great deal, but from what Robb heard, they never loved following him. 

Torrhen, seeing Robb conflicted, continued. “You lost the war, you lost the north, and your family suffered for it. You, your mother, and your friends died at your uncle’s wedding.” 

Robb chokes. His legs begin to feel weak, and he leans against the weirwood tree, raising a hand to his head. 

“So that’s why you’re here, because we’re both dead. Is this some sort of welcome to the afterlife type thing?” 

The old king smiles. “I said that you died, not that you were dead.” 

Robb freezes, an odd mix of panic and hope filling his heart. Torrhen explains,

“The kings of winter were promised a return to our former glory by the old gods. The dragons were never meant to keep the north from the Starks for as long as they did.” Torrhen drew himself to his full height. “The North is, down to the very soul of the land, different from the south. Your father, for every good he did, was raised as a southern lord, and raised you the same.”

Robb pushes himself off the tree, confusion joining the mix of emotions in his head. 

“That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

Torrhen turns to look at the water, covered by a thin layer of ice from the cold. “We’re running out of time, you will wake soon.” He looks Robb in the eyes once more. “We convinced the old gods to give you a second chance. You cannot stop everything from happening, some events will happen no matter what you do. But this is a chance for you to fix those mistakes you mentioned.” 

Robb opened his mouth, but was silenced when Torrhen raised his hand.

“You must forget about honor, it is the pack that matters. Winter cares not for your opinions or beliefs. Most of the older king’s had their own pack, a group of protectors and warriors that made all the difference in hard times.” Torrhen’s gaze is as colder than the wind that has begun to send snow into the air in powdery drifts. “Others were sent back, they have been told why. You need to find them, and keep them alive.”

The wind grows stronger, and the older man grabs Robb by the shoulders. “You are a direwolf, the north is yours by blood.”

And with those final words, Torrhen Stark, the king who knelt, disappears in a storm of snow.

Chapter Text

Once again Robb wakes in his bed in Winterfell. This time, to the sensation of fingers running through his hair. As he opens his eyes, he is rewarded by the image of his mother. Younger than he last saw her, lacking the grey in her red hair and the lines around her eyes that had emerged over the last couple months. She’s not looking at him, instead staring at the fire. 

“Mother…” Robb's voice comes out rough, far higher than it was when he spoke to Torrhen Stark. Still, it is enough to get his Mother’s attention. She turns to him, a sigh leaving her lips. 

“Robb dear, how are you feeling? You gave us quite the fright this morning.” Her eyes searched his face, as if that would reveal something to her to lessen her concerns. 

He couldn’t tell her about anything that he’d experienced. Robb knew that no one would believe him, and were likely to think him crazy to the point of needing a maester. Robb knew about magic, mostly from the stories he was told before bed. The only magic he’d ever encountered was when he warged into Grey Wind, which was nothing compared to being reborn in his past. No, it was best to play it safe and act as if he were a child. 

“I’m fine mother, what happened this morning?” best to play it safe, and pretend like everything was fine.

Catelyn Stark frowned, though more in concern than anything else. “You were hysterical, screaming and sobbing so loud I could hear you in my chambers.” 

Robb did his best to look like the confused child he was supposed to be. “I don’t remember that, are you sure you didn’t hear Sansa? She has nightmares all the time.” 

The deflection apparently succeeds, since the frown on his mother’s face lessens slightly.

“No dear, I came into your room while it was happening. You passed out before anyone could figure out what was going on. Did you have a nightmare?” What was left of her frown shifted to a soft smile. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, everyone has them.” 

Robb nods. In a way, it was a nightmare. Everything that happened after his father died was its own hell. Not to mention what had happened at the Twins. Just thinking about it brought tears to Robb’s eyes. Looking at his mother, Robb pushed himself up and leaned into his mother's embrace. 

“Looks like I was right.” Catelyn smiles. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t remember it.” Robb lied. He very clearly remembered being stabbed in the chest.

Catelyn sighs, “Alright dear, but you need to get out of bed, you and your father are going to the mountain clans today. If you don’t want to get left behind, you need to get ready quickly.” 

Robb nods, but stops listening as his mother gets up to get him some clothes from the wardrobe. He only visited the mountain clans once with his father, when he was eleven. He’d enjoyed it, but spent more time with Ser Cassel than the actual clans. 

“Robb!”

Robb’s head snaps up, and is met with the sight of his mother with her hands on her hips, looking both exasperated and worried.

He jumps out of bed, hurriedly grabbing the clothes she’d laid out. It was an effort not to stumble, as his legs were significantly shorter than they were in the last time he used them. His mother brushed her hand through his hair one last time before heading towards the door. 

“Be in the great hall in ten minutes, your father wants to eat with all the men before you leave for the mountains.” She smiles when Robb nods, before walking out and closing the door behind her.

Robb’s shoulders sag with relief as his mother leaves. Despite his joy at seeing her again, it was getting difficult not to break down in front of her. Taking a deep breath, Robb begins to dress and prepare himself for what he will encounter in the hall. All his siblings will be there, and so will his father. He needs to keep his composure in spite of the wild emotions that will emerge with seeing his family. His mother will likely have informed his father of the incident this morning, so if anything seems off then his father could leave him behind. Even though it technically happened years ago for him, Robb remembers having to beg his father to go with. He frowns. Robb is the heir to Winterfell, and therefore the next person in charge of the clans. You would think his father would take him along to learn about them. 

Robb finally finishes dressing, resolving to practically interrogate his father about the clans to avoid becoming too emotional in front of his family. He heads toward the door, quickening his pace to avoid being late and attracting further attention. He pauses with his hand on the handle, taking a deep breath to steady himself, before finally opening the door to face his family. 

And is instead greeted with the face of a young Theon Greyjoy.

Chapter Text

Robb freezes in his tracks. Theon looks the same as he remembered. The gangly limbs and long black hair from when they were still truly kids. His eyes look different, flicking around the room specifically avoiding Robb’s face. 

Anger boils in his chest. Theon was a traitor, but Robb always thought he would have the decency to meet his gaze. 

Robb’s hand shoots out, reaching up to grab Theon by the collar and pull him into the room. Pushing the door shut again, Robb slams Theon up against it. 

“You have exactly two seconds to explain yourself Greyjoy, before I bash you head against the wall.”

Theon’s face is panicked, his hands close around Robb’s arm but make no effort to move them away. 

“I didn’t kill them.” The words leave Theon’s mouth in a gasp, and Robb immediately knows who he is talking about. 

“There were bodies” Theon looks as though he is about to vomit, and Robb feels the same. 

“Farm boys taken from the village.” Theon winces. “Your brothers escaped, I never found out what happened to them.” 

Robb lurches away from Theon, tripping over his feet and landing on his ass on the floor. There is a thud immediately after as Theon slides to the ground. The ringing in Robb’s head is back. His brothers had been alive, and he wasn’t able to find them. They may not have died at the hands of Theon, but he still failed them, apparently in more ways than he thought.

Robb raises his head, and looks at the younger version of Theon. As he opens his mouth to speak a thought rushes through his head.

This Theon Greyjoy shouldn’t know about the war. 

Robb hears a noise that sounds like it came from a dying animal. It isn’t until Theon looks up at him that Robb realizes it came from himself. Theon’s mouth opens, but it shuts again when Robb shakes his head.

At that moment, Robb can only think to ask one of the many questions he has, “Why are you here, Theon.”

Theon looked at Robb, and his eyes looked watery. 

“I was sent back to help you, to make up for what I did. I died, and I remember begging to go back and fix it, and the next thing I know I’m waking up as a child again. I-”

“Stop.” Robb interrupts. He can tell this is going to devolve into explanations or excuses, and if he hears either out of Theon’s mouth he might just kill him. Robb takes a couple of steadying breaths. Torrhen said that others were sent back with him, and most importantly to keep them alive. Theon had to be one of them. There was no other explanation. 

Theon still looks ready to vomit, but his eyes look slightly less watery. 

“I can’t trust you and I think you know that, but I will hear you out.” Robb continues before Theon can interrupt, “Not till after I return from the mountains.” Robb remembers what Theon said about the farm boys and killing them in place of his brothers. “Those farm boys you say you killed, one of them should be old enough to interact with. Teach him to shoot a bow, or to ride a horse, I don’t care which but do something with him.” He had already made the mistake of being too trusting with Theon. However, Robb did know that Theon was proud and hated to be confronted with his mistakes. If he was willing to do this for Robb, then maybe he was worth listening to. Judging from the horrified look on Theon’s face, Robb still knew something about Theon Greyjoy, and fortunately or unfortunately, it added credit to that story.

“I’ll ask around to make sure you did it. But if you do I’ll hear you out Greyjoy, and I need to hear everything. Got it?” 

“Got it.” Theon replies, his voice thick with emotion, but there is a new resolve that reminds Robb of just before their first battle, when he still believed Theon to be his brother. 

Robb pulls himself to his feet. After a moment's hesitation, he extends his hand to Theon. He takes it, and Robb pulls Theon up. He’d forgotten how much taller Theon was than him at this age. Instead of being just slightly shorter, Robb is now staring directly at Theon’s chest. It's jarring, and reminds Robb of the severity of his situation. 

Robb lets out a sigh, “Let's go, we’re gonna be late for breakfast.

Theon leaves first, glancing back as he walks out the door. Robb wonders if it's to check that he’s following. Finally, Robb steps out of his room, and goes to meet his family for breakfast.

Chapter Text

Theon and Robb walk through the hallways in silence, Theon leading the way. All Robb can think about is how much he messed up just moments ago. If Theon hadn’t been sent back, then Robb likely would have been sent to Maester Luwin at the very least. The danger he put himself in cannot be repeated anytime soon. Robb bit his lip as he realized that this may have been a blessing, his temper would have gotten him in trouble had he lost it in a more public place. He was so focused on not getting overly emotional in front of his family that he didn’t even consider the other people he would encounter again. As much as Robb wants to continue mulling over how he is going to act normal, he and Theon have already arrived at the great hall. 

* * * * * * *

His family is at the head table, Ser Cassel and some of the other guards are there, but the majority of people are at the long tables running almost the entire length of the room. They are only filled halfway, as the hall was built with the intention to hold as many people as possible. Theon heads over to the table on the far right, while Robb continues at a brisk pace, trying to plaster a look of excitement onto his face. Ser Cassel is on his father’s left, but the seat to his father’s right is empty. Sansa is next to the empty seat, meticulously cutting her food. His mother is sitting next to the empty seat, holding Rickon. Robb has to force himself to keep walking as he realizes that Rickon is just a baby, which after everything that has happened shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. 

Robb quickened his pace, passing Theon who sits at one of the lower tables. As Robb walks toward the table, he can feel the eyes on him. The volume in the hall remains the same, but Robb can see as people turn their heads to look. He attempts to plaster a grin on his face while ignoring the growing lump in his throat. 

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up talking to Theon.” Robb says to the table as he pulls out his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mother shake her head, as she always did when he misbehaved with Theon. 

Sansa smiles at him, and hands Robb a plate which he piles with food. Ned nods at Robb before continuing his conversation with Ser Cassel. 

“Are you gonna bring back stuff from the mountains?” Arya asks, the lack of front teeth adding a lisp to her speech Robb hadn’t heard in years. 

“If Father lets me, I’ll bring you back a pelt of an animal I hunt.” Robb’s grin becomes slightly more genuine, since this would eventually happen. 

Before, Ned had kept Robb separate from the mountain clans for the most part, but did let him join on one of the hunts. Robb had been thrilled when one of the clansmen had helped him kill a red fox, and let him keep the pelt. The first time Robb killed the fox, he had kept the pelt for himself. 

Arya’s face lights up, “Really! Do you mean it!” Robb nods, and Arya seems to vibrate with excitement. 

“I’ll be spending time with the mountain clans, so I’m sure I’ll kill lots of animals on the hunts.” Seizing the opportunity, Robb turns to his father, “we will be hunting a lot with the clans, right Father?”

Ned Stark raises his eyebrows at his eldest son. “Possibly, but I would think you would want to spend more time training with Ser Cassel.” 

Torrhen Stark’s words about his father creep back into his mind. Shouldn’t his interaction with the clans be encouraged? Robb forces himself to take a few bites of food before responding to his father.

“Of course I want to train, but all the stories about the mountain clans talk about how good they are at hunting and fighting. I want to learn about that stuff too!” 

His Father’s lips pressed together, but Ser Cassel and some of the other guards at the table nod approvingly. Before his Father can respond, Ser Cassel speaks: 

“The mountain clans are remarkable hunters and fighters, as long as you continue your lessons diligently, I see no reason you can't spend time learning from the clans.” 

Robb grins, and his father gives him a resigned smile that usually means that the issue will be revisited. 

Ned starks turns back to the guards to talk about their trip, effectively stopping Robb from asking more questions about the clans. Instead, Robb begins to shovel food in his mouth, since his strategy of distracting himself by asking about the clans is over. His siblings are easier to look at, since they look far younger than when he last saw them. With adults, as long as he has something else to focus on, he can control his emotions. 

“Robb?” he turns to Sansa, who is looking at him with wide eyes, “would you also bring me back something too? I would really appreciate it.” 

A genuine smile grows on Robb’s face, “Of course, do you have anything specific? A challenge would be great for training.” 

Sansa’s eyes light up just like Arya’s did a few minutes ago, “I would love some of their clothes, or pelts like or giving Arya.” She pauses, “If it's no trouble of course.”

“Of course I’ll bring you something Sansa, and I’ll come back with stories too!” 

Sansa grins at him, before turning back to her breakfast. Robb takes a moment to look around the room. Theon is sitting towards the back, speaking with a man Robb is sure works in the stables. Robb looks for Jon, but he doesn’t see him at any of the tables. It's possible he is in the practice yard with a sword, or eating stolen food from the kitchen somewhere else. 

Robb remembers the trip to the mountains taking only a week or two, which will give him an opportunity to ask the questions he wants about the clans. He may get more information about the clans from the guards, since Ser Cassel seemed so approving of his previous idea. 

His Father stands, and turns to Robb. “We will be leaving soon, finish up and then meet me in Maester Luwin’s tower.” He places a hand on Robb’s shoulder, and gives Robb a smile so familiar he wants to cry. His father and Ser Cassel leave the hall, and Robb turns back to his food. 

This didn’t happen last time.

Chapter Text

Robb expected to be told to wait for his father in the yard with the guards. He pushes the little remaining food around on his plate, as he bites his lip. Looking around the table, nobody else seems to find the directions from his father unusual, Bran and Arya have already run off to play, Sansa has left to get lessons from the Septa, and his mother is busy dealing with Rickon. The guards have also begun to leave, engrossed in conversation with one another about the upcoming trip. 

Robb stands, abruptly enough to garner some looks, and walks towards his mother. Plastering a smile on his face, he placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder to get her attention. 

“You will be in the yard before we leave, right?” He asks, the edge of nervousness genuine. 

She smiles softly, “Of course Robb, I’ll be there to see you and your father off with your brothers and sisters. Now go see your father, I’m sure he doesn’t want to be kept waiting.”  

Robb nods, then bends down to give his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “Alright, I’ll see you in the yard then.” 

As he walks away, Robb can feel his mother’s eyes on his back. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that doing so will attract unwanted attention, from his mother and others. Acting normal had been easier than he thought, but he knew his mother at least was suspicious. His siblings were easier to interact with, likely because they looked and acted so different as little kids. Also because they were less likely to notice the differences that his mother would. If Robb was lucky, she would blame any unusual behavior on his supposed nightmare, and the trip to the mountains would create an excuse for him to use long term. 

He made it to the end of the great hall, the doors still propped open for those going in and out. As he continues down the hall, Robb wonders why his father is calling him to the tower. As far as he can remember, his father never even visited Maester Luwin right before the trip, but it's more likely that Robb just doesn’t remember. 

He gets to the steps of the tower, and starts to take them two at a time. Not even ten steps up, his foot catches and he falls to his knees. Looking around quickly, Robb doesn’t see anyone around to witness that embarrassing misstep. Robb shakes his head, he is going to have to be very careful to adjust to his new body without anyone noticing. Robb starts to climb the stairs again, this time he takes them one at a time. He reaches the top to find the door shut, he looks at it for a moment before deciding that the best course of action is to knock, then immediately walk in like he would have done as a child. So he does exactly that.

*******

Ned Stark is having a conversation with maester Luwin near the window, neither of them seem to have heard him knock. 

“Hello father, Maester Luwin.” Robb calls out, finally getting their attention. They both smile at him, but there's an odd look in their eyes that makes Robb nervous. 

“Robb, you’re right on time, I was just speaking with Maester Luwin about our trip to the mountain clans.” His father pauses, but Robb, not wanting to seem impertinent, only nods. 

Maester Luwin speaks instead. “I’ll be off to send the crow to the Umbers, Lord Stark.” The Maester, who looks almost identical to how he remembers, bows to Robb’s father and inclines his head to Robb before turning and heading to the aviary. Both Robb and his Father watch the old maester leave. Ned looks over to Robb. He walks over the window clearly expecting his son to follow, which Robb does. 

“You remember that I had an older brother correct.” Robb nods to his father, who continues on. “What do you know about him?” 

Robb is startled by the question, and wonders what this has to do with the mountain clans.  

“I remember the story about how the mad king killed both him and grandfather, and that you say that both he and aunt Lyanna had the wolf blood.” 

Robb actually knew more than that. He had heard in the camps that his uncle was a brilliant swordsman, and the northmen tended to tell almost as many stories of Brandon as they did of Robb’s father.

Ned, however, looks almost disappointed at Robb’s answer. 

“I guess we haven’t been telling you enough stories then.” Robb feels his throat constrict in panic, he should have said more. However, before he could attempt to fix the mistake his father continued.

“I didn’t know my brother as well as I wish I did, but I loved him. He was fiercely protective of Lyanna, and helped me to come out of my shell as a young man.” Ned looked down at Robb, before placing one hand on his shoulder and gesturing out the window with the other. “He was meant to be Warden of the North, not I. He was raised for this and earned the respect of the lords as one of them.” 

Ned pauses and looks out the window. Robb, confused by the direction of their conversation, says nothing.  

“You know I was fostered in the Eyrie. I hated the politics of the south, but Jon Arryn taught me enough to be a good Lord. I earned the respect of the northern lords through my actions as a lord, not before.” Ned turns to face Robb fully. “Every Stark that has ever ruled this house has had to decide how they will rule over the north. You are no different.” The other hand is now on Robb’s shoulder, and his father’s serious face once again makes Robb’s throat tighten. “If you want to learn from the mountain clans Robb I will allow it, however, you will take it seriously, this visit is not a game, do you understand?” 

Robb nods, before managing to choke out a legitimate response:

“I am serious father, I want to learn from the clansmen.”

Ned nods and looks pleased with the response, although he eyes Robb wearily as he releases his shoulders.  

“Let us head to the yard then, I’m sure the men are eager to be off.” 

Robb smiles at his father, less enthusiastic then how he had smiled at Sansa, but no less sincere. His father’s own lack of enthusiasm about Robb learning about the clans still didn’t make sense to Robb, but he was still going to allow it, which was a victory in itself. More importantly, Robb’s father wasn’t suspicious of him, yet at least.

Chapter Text

Robb trails a step behind his father as they make the journey from the tower down to the yard. The silence is nothing unusual for Robb, his father was never overly talkative, even to his children. Besides, the silence was a comfortable one, and gave Robb more time to think. The talk from his father was odd, however not entirely new to him. Before Ned had left for King’s Landing, he had spoken to Robb about being in charge of Winterfell. That time, his father had mainly talked to him about listening to Maester Luwin and his mother. Although, the circumstances surrounding that conversation were far different than the most recent one in the tower. 

Robb stares at his father’s back and ponders why his Uncle Brandon was brought up. The stories about the man had been consistent throughout Robb’s childhood. Brandon’s noble death at the hand’s of the Mad King, his skill with the sword, and the had ‘the wolf’s blood’ his family was famous for. If Robb had to guess, the main reason his father had brought up his uncle was to convey to Robb how he would have to become his own type of Lord. However, it was the difference between his father and his uncle that stuck out the most to Robb. Ned had Specifically brought up how he had earned the respect of the Lords of the north through his actions as a Lord, but Brandon was respected by the Lords as the heir. Robb’s grandfather had sent his father south, so he had not grown up around the Northmen like Uncle Brandon had. 

Was this what Torrhen was talking about when he said his father was not right to rule the north? The thought almost makes Robb stumble, but he covers it by quickening his steps to fake eagerness instead. Now even with his father, Robb could see the slight upward twitch of his lips. 

It hadn’t made sense to him at first when speaking to Torrhen, but the idea that his uncle was raised for the north gave Robb more context to make sense of it. In the war camps, the stories of his uncle were told with a sense of familiarity the stories about his father lacked at times. Still, Robb was unlikely to become as good of a swordsman as his uncle, or to suddenly become the embodiment of the Stark ‘wolf blood’. Luckily, learning from the mountain clans would help him become more familiar with other parts of the north, even Robb is unsure of how this will help him win the war. 

Robb and his father reach the hall leading out to the yard, and to Robb’s genuine delight, he sees Jon lurking in one of the alcoves. He glances at his father, who has also seen the boy. 

“Go ahead Robb, just don’t talk too long.” 

With a grin and a firm nod, Robb runs over to his brother. 

*******

“Hey Jon!” Robb shouts as he nears Jon. His brother looks up, and his face causes a pang in Robb’s chest. Jon’s hair was shorter, only reaching his chin instead of his shoulder. There is a more significant amount of baby fat on his face, however, his dark grey eyes are exactly how Robb remembers. Unfortunately, said eyes are searching Robb's face intently. 

“Morning Robb, are you and father heading to the yard?” Jon asks, pushing off from the wall.

“Yes we are, are you waiting for me cause you're going to miss me so much?” Robb jokes, slinging his arm over his brother’s shoulder. Like with Sansa, it is easier to act like a child around his sibling, rather than in front of adults. 

Jon pushes Robb off with a smile, and Robb lets out his first genuine laugh. The two walk side by side at a steady pace, once again behind their father on the way to the yard. One of the more senior guards is speaking to his father, however Robb can’t tell who it is from behind. 

“It's too bad you can’t join us in the mountains.” Robb says. He wishes he was lying, since the lack of Jon’s presence will help keep anyone from being suspicious, but having his brother around would make the trip more enjoyable. 

Jon’s smile fades. “Well considering it took you ages to convince father, it wasn’t likely I was going to join you.”

He isn’t wrong, Robb had spent months convincing their father, and had used the argument of being the heir of Winterfell during multiple conversations. 

Robb bumps shoulders with Jon. “Well that’s unfortunate for you, since I’m going to come back and be leagues ahead of you with a sword.” 

A smile returns to Jon’s face, which brings Robb a sense of relief. 

“I doubt it, I bet you’ll be forced to make nice with all the clansmen, like you have to do whenever Winterfell hosts guests.” The grimace on Robb’s face is genuine, which makes Jon laugh. The one comfort is that no matter how bad the clans are, it can’t be as bad as making nice with the royal twat Joffrey. 

“Ugh, no way! The clans can’t possibly be that boring.” Robb replies. Jon opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can the two of them almost run into their father, who is waiting for them in front of the door that leads to the yard. Jon and Robb fall silent. The guard, who Robb now recognizes as Alyn, was one of the guards who went with his father to King’s Landing. Alyn opens the door for them with a smile, and Robb nods to him as they pass. 

****** 

The yard is muddy and filled with the bustle of people. A group of horses being fitted with packs is at the center of the yard, clearly meant for the journey. Robb’s usual grey-and-white gelding is included in the group. Ned turns to the boys. 

“I have to go make sure the men are prepared. Robb, I suggest you visit whoever you would like to quickly, as your mother and younger siblings will be seeing us off soon.” Ned puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder much like he did to Robb in the tower. “I will see you when we return. Make sure to keep up on your studies and watch out for your siblings.” Their father smiles, and gives Jon a quick hug, which he returns. Afterwards, Ned turns and heads for the horses. 

Robb feels like there is a weight on his chest. He hadn’t even considered that he would have to say goodbye. He didn’t want to have to do that again. The last time, except for his mother, every goodbye given to his family had been the last one. Squeezing his hands into fists, Robb turns to his brother. 

“Well I guess we should go find them then.” This earns him a strange look from Jon, who has likely noticed the change in Robb’s voice. 

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Theon?” There is a mix of confusion and something else in Jon’s voice when he asks. 

Robb forces a smile to his face. The first time around, he had been attached to the hip with Theon until he had said goodbye to his family, so saying no would be unusual.

“Of course, are you going to join me?” Robb tries to continue the conversation, despite the new tightening in his throat. 

Jon shakes his head. “I’ll go on ahead, I’m gonna be stuck with him anyway.” 

Robb nods, and turns toward the stables. He and Theon usually meet there anyway, so fortunately for him doing this isn’t suspicious. He can feel Jon’s eyes boring into his back as Robb walks away. Luckily the stables aren’t far, and he doesn't bump into anybody on the quick walk over. His vision tunnels as he nears the stables. His hands are numb, and he can hear his heartbeat loudly in his ears. Robb ducks into the stables, and continues into an empty stall. He collapses against one side, and hopes no one has seen him. The thought of leaving his family again brings a sense of dread Robb felt near the abrupt end of his Uncle Edmure’s wedding. 

His breathing quickens, but Robb doesn’t feel like he’s getting any air. If he leaves, his siblings may die. He could mess something up in the mountains and ruin everything. He has no clue what he’s doing -not that he ever did- and he has no clue why the old gods would give him a second chance. Anything could go wrong. 

The next thing Robb knows, his head is against someone’s chest and they are telling him to match their breathing. Slowly, he does. The sound of his own desperate wheezes reach his ears, but he does manage to slow the pace of his breathing. Robb’s whole body is covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, and his head is pounding. He finally manages to pry open his eyes. Only to be met with Theon’s panicked expression. 

“Are you alright?” Theon asks, as his eyes search Robb’s face. Nobody else is around, meaning Theon is the one who helped him. 

“I’m fine now.” Robb lies, his voice hoarse. “Thanks I guess.” 

“No problem.” Theon doesn’t look convinced, but pulls away from Robb to give him space. 

“How long have I been here?” Robb asks, panic creeping back in. 

Theon shakes his head. “Not long, Jon pointed me this way when he was looking for your family.” 

Robb sighs in relief, reassured by the response. He pushes himself to his feet, despite the shakiness in his legs and a concerned look from Theon. Robb takes a deep breath and starts walking out, before he is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Be careful, okay Robb?” Theon can’t meet his eyes, but he doesn’t flinch away like he did in Robb’s room earlier. 

Robb still doesn’t trust Theon, but he did help Robb just now. Hesitating a moment, Robb eventually gives Theon a nod before walking away. Robb plasters a smile on his face as he exits the stable, shoving any remaining panic out of his mind. 

The yard has emptied out a bit, so it is easy to spot his family across the yard. His mother is speaking to his father, who has Rickon on his hip. Sansa is listening to their parents, while Bran and Arya are hanging off of Jon. 

Forcing the grin on his face to widen, Robb breaks into a run across the yard, feigning excitement. He reaches his family quickly.

“Sorry I took so long!” Robb says, and is relieved to find his voice is no longer shaky. His whole family turns toward him. Bran lets go of Jon to run towards him, so Robb bends down, scoops him up and swings him around. Bran lets out a shriek of laughter, which draws a laugh out of Robb. 

“You’re right on time.” His father says, while handing Rickon back to his mother. “But say your goodbyes quickly.”

Bran clings to Robb’s neck as he tries to set the boy down. So Robb decides to say goodbye to him first.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay Bran! I’ll bring you back something cool, like I will for Sansa and Arya alright?” His little brother nods before squeezing his neck tight. 

“I want the biggest thing!” His little brother shouts, so Robb just laughs and sets the boy down. He hugs both of his sister’s and tells them something similar. This gets him a kiss on the cheek and a thank you from Sansa, as well as a cheer from Arya. He turns to Jon next. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Jon says. The concern on his face is eerily similar to Theon’s moments ago. Robb fakes a laugh. 

“I never do anything stupid! Do you need me to bring you back a prize as well?” 

“Shut up.” Jon smiles, but there is an odd look in his eyes. The two of them embrace, and finally Robb turns to his mother. She looks more worried than Jon, but Robb hopes it is the normal amount, and has nothing to do with the incident in the morning. 

“Have fun dear, and listen to your father. Be safe and respectful.” She draws him into a hug, while baby Rickon grabs at his hair. 

“Of course mother, I’ll tell you all about it when we get back.” Robb smiles and pokes the baby’s nose. Rickon giggles. Robb kisses his mother on the cheek before running over to his father and the horses. 

Luckily, by this age, Robb is able to get on the horse on his own, so he didn’t need to fake getting help from someone else. However, it is a greater effort than he expects to heave himself up, since he is used to mounting from a different height. He manages to do it swiftly enough, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Jon giving him a funny look.

His father is to the left of him, while most of the guards are behind them. Fat Tom is on Robb’s right, he is riding a large stallion and yelling goodbyes to his wife. Ser Cassel guides his horse to the left of Robb’s father having just finished checking the group’s supplies. 

“Open the gate!” Ned yells, after a nod from Ser Cassel. The gates open, while the group starts moving forward. Robb kicks his horse into a walk, and turns around to wave to his family one last time. His sibling’s wave back, while his mother simply smiles. Pasting a grin on his face, Robb is able to keep himself from panicking again, as he waves to his family until he passes through the gates.

Chapter Text

Robb was acting strange. Jon had seen him when he’d been walking with their father. His brother’s stride had been more confident, but his face had been tight and his eyes kept flicking around, as if waiting for someone to attack him. Jon had been able to chalk it up to nervousness about the trip, but the brief look of panic on Robb’s face before he had practically run to the stables had made Jon reconsider. 

What was going on with his brother? 

The group had left only minutes ago, Robb seeming perfectly normal while saying goodbye, although it was faster than Jon had expected, that could be attributed to their father’s desire to leave quickly. His smile had been tight though, and even Lady Catelyn had seemed concerned. 

Jon had left his family in the courtyard, wanting to avoid the Lady of Winterfell and his siblings. Instead, he had decided to head to the kitchens for some food. 

He continued to mull over Robb’s odd behavior on the way to the kitchens, but could come to no explanation before he reached their doors. Inside, Jon could hear the voices and movement, the cooks obviously beginning to prepare lunch. If he was lucky, they would have something easy for him to grab, without drawing too much attention.

Jon was considering going in when the door opened from the inside. One of the younger serving girls emerged. She was small and blond, not any older than he was. Jon couldn’t remember her name, or if had seen her, but he was thankful for her presence nonetheless.  

She didn’t see him, as she rushed down another hall with an empty bucket, giving Jon an opportunity to grab the closing door. This way the people inside would not hear the door opening unexpectedly and look up to see him. Still, Jon ducks his head and darts inside quickly, looking around quickly before spotting some rolls of bread. They are on a table near the oven, which is across the room from Jon. He looks to the side, and sees the only person close enough to him is facing away, and busy kneading more bread. After a brief moment of hesitation, Jon moves across the room quickly, reaching the table in five steps. He grabs the smallest rolls he sees, before turning around to leave. 

The baker is staring at him.

She is a tall woman, with broad shoulders and dark hair tied back. Her eyebrows were raised and her brown eyes were fixed on the bread in his hands.. If Robb had been with him, he would have stood in front of Jon and apologized. Robb would have been able to get them out of the kitchen with no problems, but Jon was frozen in panic. If the woman told Lady Catelyn, Jon would be reprimanded, not seriously, but it would still be unpleasant. 

Jon and the baker stare at one another, long enough that he considers making a break for the door. 

“Just take them boy, that batch was overcooked anyway.” She smiles at him, before turning back to her work, not paying him a second glance. 

Jon, not wanting to push his luck or question the woman's generosity, walks to the door quickly and leaves. It is only when he reaches the next hall that he realizes he never thanked the woman for letting him have the bread. He winced, and quickened his pace as he walked down the hall. 

He reaches the west side of the castle, and finds a windowsill to sit on to eat his bread. The crust is hard, but not to the point that the bread is bad. 

Jon looks out over the yard as he eats. It is nearly empty now, only guards and stable workers could be seen from the window. Jon’s thoughts turn back to his brother. Robb hadn’t treated him any differently, or anyone for that matter. It was how he reacted to things that had seemed to change. 

Jon finished the first roll and started to pull apart the second. The only explanation Jon could think of for the change in behavior was nervousness about the trip, but that didn’t make sense since Robb had been nothing but excited all week. 

Jon paused while eating and looked out at the gate. Robb was already gone, so thinking about his odd behavior would do nothing. If Robb was still acting strange when he returned from the mountains then Jon would speak to him, but until then there was nothing he could do except trust his brother would return home in one piece.

Chapter Text

Winterfell had disappeared from Robb’s view soon after exiting the gates. He had heard from Fat Tom that they would be traveling up the king’s road until they were near the southern hills. From there, they would arrive at the lands of the Harclays, before traveling deeper into the mountains. They would visit the Wulls last, near the Bay of Ice, before returning to Winterfell. According to Fat Tom, who was in high spirits, the trip would last no longer than three months. 

As the group ventured further into the woods, Robb turned himself towards the man riding next to him. 

“Have you visited the Mountain Clans before?” Robb asked Fat Tom. He would likely get a more genuine response about what to expect from the clans from the guard than from his diplomatic father. Since Ned was more likely to tell Robb how to act than speak about the clans. 

“Aye, it was one of the first duties I had under your father. I was asked to be one of Lord Eddard’s personal guards.” Tomard said with clear pride in his voice. “It was one of the greatest feasts I have ever had the gift of being at. The meat is fresh from the hunt, and they got more mead than you can drink!” Fat Tom paused, then leaned in toward Robb to say in a conspiratorial voice, “Got some pretty girls up in those mountains too.” He leaned back, still grinning. 

Robb almost fell off his horse when the large man slapped him on the back. “I’ll tell you boy, you’ll learn quite a bit about being a man on this trip!”

Two guards behind the pair moved forward, so that the horses were now close enough to one another for easy conversation. The first was a much older guard that had known Robb’s grandfather. If Robb remembered correctly, the man had died in his sleep only a year after this trip. Despite his best efforts, Robb could not remember his name. The other guard was very familiar to Robb, it was Donnis. He had worked for the Starks since Robb was Bran’s current age, and often helped Ser Cassel in the training yard. The two men had clearly been listening to the conversation, but would not contribute to it unless Robb asked them. 

Robb was practically facing backwards on his horse to face the two guards. Knowing how common it was for Stark family guards to travel with the lord, he asked them the same question he did Fat Tom. 

The older guard had a warm smile on his face as he answered. “I escorted your grandfather multiple times while he was Lord, and I was with your father on his first journey to the clans.” The man leaned forward. “Your grandfather would spend weeks hunting with the clansmen in the mountains. In fact, he was so close with the chief of the Wulls that he sent your uncle to foster with them for a few months.”

Robb’s mouth fell open in shock. “Really?” 

The old guard nodded, still smiling. “Your uncle ran around like he owned the place, and would challenge the clan champions to duels for fun.” He pauses, as if considering his words. “Brandon wasn’t much older than you, but he fought like he was made for it.” 

It was at this point that Donnis leaned in. 

“My father visited the clans while your uncle was there. He said that your uncle and one of the clansmen killed a snow bear with nothing more than their hands! The feast afterwards had fires so large you shouldn't see over them standing, and no matter how much you drank they never ran out of mead!”

The way Donnis talks makes Robb’s uncle sound larger than life in a way his father had not. However, before Robb can continue questioning the men, his father and Sir Cassel stop in front of the group. 

“We’ll set up camp here for the night, and leave at first light in the morning,” his father says. The three men Robb had been speaking to all bowed their heads and dismounted from their horses. Robb does the same. They had come to a stop in a clearing of trees, the charred ground and broken branches made it clear that the area had been used for a campsite before. 

“Robb,” he turns towards his father, who is leading his horse towards the main group.

“Why don’t you help with the horses.”

*******

They continue this pattern for a few weeks. Leaving camp just after dawn and moving until dusk. According to his father and the guards, they should be reaching the Harclays soon. Robb spends most of his days speaking with the guards and servants about the clans. From what he can gather, the holdfasts of the chiefs are essentially crude castles, but are well stocked and suitable for the harsh winters of the north. Fat Tom keeps insinuating how Robb will become a man on this trip. More importantly, the old guard, who Robb had learned was named Edwyle, had many stories of the violent nature of the clans. Their best fighters were the clan champions, and they often fought with greatswords and axes. 

It is toward the end of one of these stories that his father asks him to ride next to him. Donnis had been telling Robb a story of how once two clan champions had fought, and how the winner had bit the loser’s ear off. Robb is sure he will hear the ending around one of the fires tonight. 

His father is silent when they move to the head of the group. His horse is taller than Robb’s making him look intimidating from below. Robb chews his lip as he wonders why his father asked for him, for the most part, he has been left to entertain himself. Is his father suspicious of how much time he has been spending with the guards? Has he drawn some conclusion over the past few days that has led him to be suspicious. Robb grips the reins of his horse tighter, struggling not to let the worry show on his face. 

“You need to be next to me when we arrive” His father begins. Robb almost sighs in relief. His father wants to talk about manners. 

“Of course father, I assumed you’d want me there anyway.” Robb smiles, trying to force excitement to his face. 

Ned lets out a rare chuckle. “Of course, but when we arrive, look to me for instruction. The lord will be referred to by everyone as the Harclay. You must do the same. Address him first as you would a lord. And if he laughs, laugh with him. It is rude to be silent”

Robb nods, familiar with the instruction. The last time, he had been told this in greater detail, with the added instruction to mingle with the rest of the clan. 

He wondered what had changed that his father did not feel the need to give him that particular instruction. 

Before he can ask his father any questions, there is a commotion behind them. Robb turns his head and sees men running towards a horse that has just thrown its rider. The man is on his back, frantically scrambling away from the horse. Four guards struggle to get the large horse under control. Out of the corner of his eye, Robb sees his father turn his horse to help the men. Then the horse bolts. 

It is fast, and since it was so close to the front of the group it breaks away quickly. The horse runs ahead of Robb. Before he even knows what he is doing, Robb kicks his own horse into a run after it. 

Ignoring the shots from behind him, Robb follows the escaped stallion as the forest streaks by around him. 

The stallion ignores the curve in the path and instead bolts through a gap in the trees. It should have to slow in the woods, due to the rough ground and lack of space. 

Robb pushes his own horse through the trees, reminded of another ride through a different forest. 

While he was right about the stallion slowing, the trees are still too close together for Robb to ride up next to it. Despite this, he grits his teeth and forces his horse to run faster. 

They leap over a log and continue through the trees, the shouts long since faded behind them as they get deeper in the forest. 

His grey and white gelding is directly behind the stallion. The stallion is larger and older, so this will not be sustainable for long. Gasping for air, Robb forces himself to rise in the saddle just long enough to see a small clearing ahead.

Dropping back down, Robb prepares himself to move alongside the stallion. They reach the clearing quickly, and with a quick movement of the reins with a little more urging to his horse, Robb is alongside the stallion. 

Robb shoots out his hand and firmly grasps the stallion's reins before snapping them back at the same time he slows his own horse. 

They come to a stop just feet from the trees. Any closer and either the stallion would have escaped or been injured. 

The stallion is clearly still aggravated, but Robb believes as long as he doesn’t try to ride it, they can get back to the group. Luckily, the stallion didn’t make any sudden turns, so the way back should be easy. Turning the exhausted gelding, he is pleased when the stallion proves him right by doing the same. He pushes his own horse into a slow trot, while holding the reins behind him so the stallion is forced to follow. 

The way out of the forest takes much longer than the way into it. The trees are further apart than he thought, but still not wide enough for the horses to walk side by side. Now that he is looking, the wear to the ground looks like a makeshift path. Which is why they didn’t have to turn to avoid trees. It takes a minute to mauver the horses around the fallen log, but he manages after a few minutes. Finally, the road is visible between the trees. 

Robb can hear voices up ahead, but only a few. And unfortunately for him, it is not the Stark group he sees when he finally exits the forest.

Chapter Text

Every muscle in Robb’s body tenses as he makes eye contact with one of the men near the road. If there weren’t two loud as fuck horses with him, Robb would have been able to hide in the woods. Unfortunately, all three of the people in the road are staring at him. 

They were wildings. 

One of them was a man nearly as large as the Greatjon, with a long graying brown beard and a scar that covered half his face. The shorter man was younger, with the same brown hair and a sneer so vile it could only be a permanent feature. The last was a woman, younger than Robb’s mother, but still much older than him, with her hair hidden under a thick hood and a necklace of bones around her neck. All three wore animal pelts and leathers, but they were dirty and had a look in their eyes that reminded Robb of the captured men during the war. Desperate. 

Robb was not yet out of the woods, so the trees prevented him from turning away from the group. They were in the middle of the path, not leaving him much room to move forward. He was essentially in a trap of his own making. 

“Give us the horses.” The man with the sneer spoke first, stepping towards Robb while pulling out a large knife. The stallion Robb had just chased down began to get worked up again, digging at the ground and throwing his head. The other two wildings didn’t pull out weapons, but moved with the first man towards him. 

Immediately he shook his head. Robb could give up the horses, but that didn’t guarantee they wouldn’t kill him. Announcing who he was would likely make things worse, since they would probably take him for ransom. Running without the horses was an option, and so was leaving the stallion behind to take his own horse.

Robb grimaced as the wildings moved closer, switching both reigns to his nondominant hand. They clearly wanted both horses, since they could have jumped him quickly at the risk of startling the horses. Robb didn’t particularly feel like chasing down the stallion for no reason. 

The sneering man lunged, aiming for between the horses to limit Robb’s movements. Not bothering with his sword, Robb ripped his foot out of the stirrup and kicked the man in the chest. Startled, the wilding fell backwards and landed on his ass. Robb’s other hand flew to the reins as the stallion reared up as the woman made a grab for it forcing her backwards. Luckily, the reins were long enough that the action didn’t yank Robb off his own horse. 

The larger man had come around from the other side, ignoring the reigns and making a grab for Robb instead. 

The man was directly to the side of him, so Robb lifted his arm and elbowed the wilding in the face with as much force as he could muster. He felt a crunch that was in all likelihood the man’s nose and saw him stumble back, avoiding the same fate as his friend. 

Before Robb could make a grab for his sword, the stallion reared again, pulling him forward. Both of the horses were screaming, his own gelding almost as panicked as the stallion. Forcing his foot back into the stirrup, Robb took account of where the three wildings were. The woman was back a few paces, as well as the sneering man who had gotten back onto his feet. The larger man had a hand to his face, and was clearly gearing up to make another grab for Robb. 

The only reason he had been able to push the men back the first time was because they didn’t expect him to fight back so well, especially at his age. They had underestimated him, and even if they did it again they would expect Robb to fight back so he lacked the element of surprise. Robb didn’t have any knives on him, Father said that they weren’t necessary at Robb’s age. 

He needed his sword. 

It was on the side that was in between the horses. 

The men lunged at the same time. Making a split second decision, Robb grabbed his sword and unsheathed it in a forward swing that swung the sword directly into the sneering man’s face. Robb felt rather than saw the sword make contact, as he turned just as the big man wrapped his arms around Robb’s waist. The man was big enough that he wasn’t reaching up to grab Robb, so he was able to start pulling almost instantly. 

Tightening his legs’ grip on the horse, Robb let his torso go backwards with the force of the man’s pull. The wilding was more to the rear of him this time, so Robb twisted as he went back. 

He brought the pommel of his sword down as hard as he could on the large man’s temple. And the old god’s must have been watching since it managed to hit just right to knock him out. Distantly, Robb could hear screaming. 

While he had been doing this, the Stallion had been forced closer to the gelding by the movement of the reins, allowing for the woman to make a grab for the horse. She had one hand on the saddle, and another on the noseband of the reins. Without thinking, Robb once again forced one of his feet out of the stirrups, this time the one on the outside, and lunged. 

He needed his foot out to give him the extra reach. The swing of his sword was ugly and easy to see coming, but the woman had spread herself out too much trying to grab both the reins and the saddle. 

He once again twisted as he moved, so he switched from his back to his side as he swung his sword at her throat. It cut her. Not exceptionally deep, but deep enough. She let go of both the saddle and the reins as her hands flew to her throat. 

Robb fell off the horse. He was unable to stop his momentum, and started to fall between the horses. He let go of his sword to instead grab the saddle of the stallion. He managed, but was now face down. He had managed to keep his other leg on the correct side, but he was so twisted he couldn’t use it to grip the gelding. He had kept a hold of the reins, but that meant that his arm was underneath him, and would be of not us. With no other options, Robb was left with only his sword arm. 

The horses weren’t moving as much, but they were definitely not still. Robb placed his hand flat and pushed so that he rolled back onto his back. This allowed him to grip his horse again and pull himself up. 

The sneering man was on the ground in front of Robb, hands on his bloody face as he groaned in pain. The woman was on the ground as well, sitting against a tree, eyes staring at nothing. Heart racing, Robb looked behind him. The large man behind him was still knocked out. 

He turned back to the horses, which were still aggravated. Pawing at the ground and shaking their heads, it was a miracle they hadn’t bolted. 

With heaving breaths, Robb kicked his horse into a walk, using the reins to make the stallion follow. He left his sword, it wasn’t worth the risk of dismounting to grab it. Surprisingly, Robb felt pain in his left leg. Looking down, Robb saw blood soaking his lower pant leg. The sneering man must have cut him with the knife when Robb kicked him. 

Thinking of the sneering man, Robb looked to the middle of the road, where the man had crawled to after Robb had cut his face open. The man still had his hands over it, so Robb couldn’t see the extent of the damage, but there was a lot of blood.  

“Robb!” He heard the shout before he heard the horses, which was surprising since they were running. He looked down the road and saw his father, Ser Cassel, and Donnis. All three had their swords drawn, and the panic on his father’s face was clear enough even before the three men reached him.

“I got the horse.” It was all Robb could think to say. 

Ser Cassel looked incredulous. His father looked like he swallowed a rock, and Donnis was too focused on the bleeding wilding in the road to hear him. 

Ned dismounted, followed by the other two men. Robb stayed on his horse, since he could dismount without letting go of the reins of the still aggravated stallion. 

“Donnis, go tie up the wilding.” Ser Cassel told the guard, handing him some rope out of his saddle bag. 

Robb, realizing they thought there was only one, said “there are two over at the edge of the trees.” using his hand to point behind him. 

Immediately, Ser Cassel and his father drew their swords and walked over to the trees. He could hear them speaking, but couldn’t make out the words. Now that it was over, Robb was tired, and his leg was throbbing. He looked at Donnis and the wilding. The sneering man was unconscious, and his hands had been tied behind his back. He was laying on his back, but from Robb’s vantage point he could clearly see what was left of the man’s face. Robb had cut clear across it, taking out an eye and cutting out a piece of his cheek. It was gruesome, with blood everywhere and a chunk of flesh hanging off the man’s face. There was a very good chance the wound would kill him.

Ignoring the guilt Robb felt, he turned around again and saw his father holding Robb’s sword. Ser Cassel was tying up the large wilding, and they had closed the woman’s eyes. Meeting his gaze, Robb’s father walked toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice full of concern while handing Robb back his sword, which he then held at his side, knowing not to sheath it while it was still covered in blood.

“One of them cut my leg a bit, but otherwise I’m alright.” Hearing that, Ned pushed in between the horses and grabbed the stallion’s reins away from Robb. He looked at Robb’s leg. His face that icy mask of anger Robb had rarely seen, and never directed at him. 

Before Robb could learn if the icy rage of the Lord of Winterfell was directed at him, there was once again the sound of horses. This time it was from the opposite direction than his father had come from. Turning away from his father, Robb saw at least ten men, covered in furs riding quickly towards them. 

His father stepped out from between the horses and walked towards the riders. As they got closer, Robb could see they all had beards and most carried weapons. The majority being axes and staffs. Still it wasn’t until Robb saw the shields that he realized who they were. 

The blue and white shields were blazoned with three moon phases which was the coat of arms of the Harclays. They had reached the first of the mountain clans.

Chapter Text

Robb was pulled off his horse by his father as soon as they returned to the main group. He wasn’t placed on his feet. Rather, Robb was carried over to a fallen log near the road by his father, while Ser Cassel went off, likely to get something to wrap Robb’s leg with. 

He pointedly avoided looking over towards Donnis and the clansmen, not wanting to see the dead bodies they carried. Only the large wilding was still alive by the time they reached the rest of the group from Winterfell. 

Ned sat next to Robb on the log, and the leader of the group of Harclays stood next to him. By Robb’s best guess, the clansmen had been sent to escort them the rest of the way. The man standing by Robb’s father was the largest, with a long grey beard, unusually blue eyes and arms as thick as Robb’s head. He wasn’t the tallest man Robb had ever seen, but the thick scar that ran down the left side of his face made him one of the more imposing. 

“What happened Robb?” his father asked, looking at him very intently. Robb’s eyes shifted back to his father. Telling what happened without making himself look suspicious would be tricky. While it wasn’t impossible for him to have fought off three wildings, it was very unlikely. Not only that, but an explanation that didn’t match the thought process of someone his age could cause some issues. It would have been easier if all of the wildings had died, it would have given him more freedom to lie. Since one lived, he would have to settle for being vague. 

Doing his best to look sheepish, Robb began with what was already known by everybody. 

“When the stallion bolted I went after it, I wasn’t thinking, sorry father. The horse isn’t hurt is it?” 

“No, Robb the horse is fine. Now I need to hear about the people in the forest Robb.” His father was annoyed. His mouth pressed tight, and his eyebrows furrowed while he stared at Robb. 

Robb nodded, glancing at the Harclay, who hadn’t even moved. He likely wouldn’t be of much help. 

“Well, I caught the stallion after it ran off of the trail into the woods. I stayed on my horse and used its lead to take it back to the trail. When I got there, the three wildings were on the road.” 

Robb paused, this would be the hard part. He could try to play it off all as luck, but with two people dead that likely wouldn’t work. Especially since his father’s unchanged face likely meant more criticism of his actions. Still, stalling too long would look suspicious itself. 

“They said they wanted the horses, but if I gave them the horses there was nothing to stop them from taking me.” He forced himself to let some of his anxiety show on his face, hoping the genuine emotion would help his acting. 

“Only the smaller man had a knife, and they came at me slowly, I think they were trying to keep from startling the horses. I don’t think it worked, since the stallion reared when the woman tried to grab it. I hit the big one, and kicked the other one.” 

Robb swallowed. His throat was dry and his leg was throbbing. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two men infront of him. Neither of the two men had flinched, they just kept staring at him, which was most definitely not helping. He really wished someone would interrupt. 

“Since they were on the ground I was able to get my sword out. I slashed at the smaller man since he was the first one up, then I knocked the larger man out with the pommel of my sword. Then when the woman got back up, I slashed at her too.” Robb looked at his feet. His blood had begun to soak into his boot, and the strings from his torn pants were sticking to his bloody leg. 

“I didn’t mean to kill them.” Robb didn’t look up, he knew that he should, that it’s what his father would expect. But he didn’t want to see the look on his father’s face. 

Robb nearly fell off the log when the clansman spoke instead of Ned. 

“A group of Wildings reached our lands no more than two nights ago. Most were captured or killed, but a few got away.” The clansman’s voice was deep, but lacked the gruffness Robb expected for some reason. “Looks like your boy took care of them for us.” 

Robb looked up, and the clansman nodded at him. It was hard to tell through the beard, but the man looked almost impressed. His father’s anger looked to have lessened slightly, but his eyes were still cold. 

His father stood to address the clansman. 

“Is this the reason for the unexpected escort then?”

The clansman bowed his head. 

“Of course. The Harclay would not want to offend the Ned by leaving him without warning of a known threat.” The clansman bowed further. “It is my fault for not reaching you sooner.” 

Robb’s father placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. 

“I’m sure you did everything in your power. What is your name so I know who I am speaking of to The Harclay.” 

“Johan Harclay.” Johan said as he straightened. 

“I will tell The Harclay that you would have succeeded in your endeavor if not for actions on the part of my men.” His Father raised a hand and waved someone over. “If you would excuse me for a moment, my son’s leg needs to be tended to. 

Johan bowed to his father, and surprisingly, inclined his head toward Robb as well. The clansman moved away quickly walking over to his men. Ser Cassel and another man came over. It was Jarmen, a guard that also worked with Maester Luwin. 

“He was cut by a wilding knife, make sure you clean it well.” Robb’s father said to Jarmen, who inclined his head in response.

As Ned and Ser Cassel moved to the side to speak, Jarmen knelt down to clean his leg. He rolled up Robb’s pant leg, then used a cloth to wipe off the blood. It took a moment, but the cut was minor enough that it became clearly visible quickly. Jarmen then pulled out a bottle. 

“This is going to sting a bit, I’ll try to make it quick.” Robb nodded in response, purposefully looking away to avoid having to look nervous. 

He allowed himself to flinch, even if the sting was minor compared to other injuries he had received. He forces himself not to think of the arrow at the Crag. 

“I believe we owe you a thank you for catching Avalon. Losing a stallion that was well bred would have been horrid to explain to the stable master.”  Jarmen smiles at him as he moves to wrap his leg. Robb smiles back, happy to talk about something other than the wildings. 

“How old is he?” Robb asked. “He’s a beautiful horse.” 

“Just over two. This trip was meant to help break him in some more, but as you can see Avalon has not been receptive to the idea.” Jarmen shook his head as he tied off the bandages on Robb’s leg.” Someone will have to speak to Lord Stark about what is to be done with him.” 

“Could I ride him?” Robb wanted too, Avalon really was a beautiful horse. Jarmen looked at him, surprise on his face.

“That would be up to Lord Stark.” Jarmen packed his bag and stood. “Do you need anything else from me, my lord?” He said to Robb’s Father, who along with Ser Cassel had returned to the log. 

“No Jarmen, thank you for your help.” Ser Cassel said, and the guard bowed before walking toward the main group. 

Robb was left alone with his father and the knight, wondering just how much shit he had managed to get himself in.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think I need to tell you how foolish it was for you to run off after that horse, do I?” Ned spoke first. He was seated by Robb again, and although some of his father’s anger seemed to have faded, his eyes still looked like shards of ice. Ser Cassel is standing next to where Robb’s father is seated, looking at Robb but at the same time refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I know.” Robb responds. He doesn’t know what else to say, he ran after the horse because a stallion of that size was valuable. It wasn’t like he had meant to encounter the wildings. 

While sitting by himself Robb remembered that the horse had gotten away the last time, but he didn’t know what had happened to the wildings in his first life. 

His father nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off Robb. “And do you understand that fighting the wildings was a mistake?” Ned asked, his gaze so intense that Robb almost missed the way Ser Cassels eyebrows raised ever so slightly. They had not discussed this conversation then. 

“I-” the words caught in Robb’s throat. For the first time since Theon calmed him down in the stable, Robb is lost. He can’t fight his way out of this, and he has no clue what to say to his father right now. 

He hopes that his panic isn’t visible on his face, but Ser Cassel speaks before Robb can force out a response.

“One of the most important lessons a man can learn is when it is necessary to avoid a fight.” Ser Cassel sounds like he does in the training yard, straight forward and firm, but not necessarily angry. He also looks less angry than Robb’s father, more contemplative than anything else. 

“They attacked me first.” Robb hates how childish he sounds, but he remembers saying it alot at this age. But that was in regards to Jon and Theon, not two people he killed. 

His father’s face is unreadable. His eyes search Robb’s face, seemingly looking for something to determine the truth. His hands are clasped together, and he’s leaning forward to be more on Robb’s eye level. He sighs deeply before speaking again. 

“There is power in numbers Robb, you obviously know that since you know that you were at a disadvantage. You could have said there were others in your group, or left the stallion and ran.” 

“Avalon.”

His father starts, surprise briefly overtaking his features. “What” 

Robb flinches, he shouldn’t have interrupted. “The Stallion, his name is Avalon.” Why was this so important to him? He shouldn’t care about whether or not his father knew the name of the horse. Robb spares a glance at Ser Cassel, who looks only slightly less surprised than Robb’s father. 

“Stop worrying about the horse Robb, and listen to what I’m telling you.” Ned’s face is cold and hard. The same face he makes when lecturing guards and his lords. Robb looks down, avoiding his father’s cold gaze. “The best way to win a fight is to avoid it. You are the next Lord of Winterfell, if you swing your sword you have to mean it.” 

“I did mean it!” Robb interrupts again, but this time, he does not stop. “I chased down the horse and I caught him! I got him under control and got him back to the road, they were the ones that came at me first! There wasn’t a chance to speak, and if I tried to run it would have had to have been in the opposite direction of the way I was supposed to go! Robb snaps his mouth shut, realizing what he had just done. He would be lucky if his father didn’t send him home with a couple of guards. Out of the corners of his eyes, he can see the men are staring, and Robb feels like he has swallowed a rock. He looks at his father, whose face has taken on its signature frozen look that got men to say he had ice in his veins. 

Surprisingly, it is Ser Cassel that speaks first. “Why did you wait to draw your sword?” His voice is surprisingly soft, and his question genuine.

“I didn’t want to lose the horse.” 

Ser Cassel blinks, but otherwise his face is unchanged. It isn’t until his father grabs his hands that Robb looks next to him.

“You are the heir of Winterfell Robb, you are more important than a horse. I am not telling you that the fight was unnecessary, only that you should have tried less risky options. You have responsibilities. If something had happened to you it would have been unforgivable.” Ned released one of Robb’s hands to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You will be staying by Ser Cassel or I for the remainder of the journey, do you understand?” 

Robb nods, relieved not to be sent home. But his father isn’t done.

“And since you seem so interested in the horses, when your leg is healed, you will be the one taking care of that stallion, as far as I am concerned, he is your horse until we have returned to Winterfell.” His Father goes to stand, before thinking better of it and pulling Robb into a hug. 

Just like with his mother, Robb relaxes almost immediately. However, the hug is far shorter, and his father stands almost as soon as he lets Robb go. 

“Go get some rest Robb, I’ll speak with you again at dinner.” and with that his Father turns and walks away, both Ser Cassel and Robb watching him go. 

******

Robb sits on the ground in front of one of the fires made by the men. Around him, people run around setting up camp for the night. He can feel the eyes on him, but he can’t tell if they were because of the incident with the wildings, or because he yelled at his father. Robb decided not to acknowledge the whispers as soon as he sat down, instead deciding to only acknowledge those who spoke directly to him. Fortunately or unfortunately, no one did. While this spared him from having to act like a child, it left him at the mercy of his own thoughts. 

What the hell did his father want from him?

Despite the obvious good intentions, the anger from his father didn’t make sense to him. Robb didn’t have an opportunity to make another choice, they came at him almost immediately. Could he have explained that better initially? Yes, but that didn’t change the fact that he acted to defend himself and the horses. And while Robb could admit he maybe focused too much on the horses, it did not change the fact that he had acted in response to the actions of the wildings.  

Robb shook his head, whatever his father’s reasoning was, it changed nothing about what had happened. He had fought to defend himself, nothing more. It was no different than what he had done when hilling men at war. 

A large thud to his right side knocks Robb out of his thoughts. Turning his head, Robb sees Johan Harclay. The clansman looked less intimidating sitting down than he had standing over Robb. Still, the man was far larger than Robb, and the scar on his face looks worse up close. It started at his temple and ran straight down to his jaw. It was a straight line, and long since healed. He was looking at the fire like Robb had been, and his face somehow seemed softer than it had earlier. 

“In my clan, it is considered a great service to defend land and property from the wildings.” The clansman turns his head to face Robb. His face is serious, but not unkind. Not knowing what to say, Robb just nods, the clansman takes that as a sign to continue.

“Lord Stark was right about giving a man a chance to surrender, but there is not always an opportunity for that to happen.” He pauses, as if considering what to say next. “The wildinging that we brought back ain’t gonna die, but his head is gonna hurt something awful.” The clansman pulls out a knife, it's long and sheathed in leather. The hilt is made of wood and with a leather grip. On the end is a rune, clearly written in the language of the First Men. 

“This is from the other wilding, the one whose throat you cut.” The clansman looks at Robb expecting a reaction.

Robb frowned – that was wrong. He had slit the woman’s throat, the man with the knife had died from a slash to the face. Was that mistake intentional?

“It was the other man that had the knife. He died because of the wound to his face.” Robb stopped and looked back at the clansman, meeting his eyes for the first time since the man sat down. Even through the grey beard, the smile that crossed his face was clear as day. 

“You’re right. The man was the one holding the knife.” He unsealthed the blade slowly. “Its from the Thenns. The metal of the blade is bronze and the runes are from the Old Tongue. Out of all the wildings, the Thenns are the only ones to make weapons worthwhile.” He handed the knife to Robb. 

The blade was as long as the distance from Robb’s wrist to the tip of his longest finger, and sharp. The hilt was sturdy and easy to grip, and when held in one hand had some significant weight. The Harclay was right, it was a good knife. 

“When a Harclay man makes his first kill, it is tradition for him to keep something from the one he killed, so that the blood spilt will always be remembered.” The clansman hands Robb the shealth. “It was my duty to escort you to the camp safely, but you took care of that on your own. So I think it only right, that you be honnored the same way a clansman would. The knife is yours.” 

“Thank you.” Robb manages to croak out, refusing to look at the Harclay. He feels a large hand on his shoulder. 

“No man ever forgets the blood of the first man he kills, even if he forgets their face. It stains us, but why the blood is spilt is just as powerful.”  Robb finally looks at back at the clansman, whose face is serious, but isn’t cold like his father’s was. 

“Keep the knife. It is yours by right of the Harclay clan.” 

The large man stood, and Robb, still sitting on the ground, had to tilt his head all the way back to look at him. The Harclay looked down at him and grinned. 

“You’re gonna train with me when we reach the keep, you obviously have the balls for it my lord.” The man laughed, and Robb felt himself smile.

“I would be honored.” Robb said, and felt something in him relax. He wanted to learn from the clans, and this would be the perfect way to do it. The Harclay nodded, and the walked away. As he did, Robb couldn’t believe his luck, he thought it would take ages to get to train with the clans. After all they hardly interacted with him the first time he came to the mountains. 

A sudden realization hit Robb so hard he felt almost nauseous. The first time he was in the mountains not only had Avalon not escaped, but the wildings had all been caught. He hadn’t reached the clan yet, so what the hell changed those events if it wasn’t him?

Chapter Text

For the third time in as many hours, Avalon tried to throw Robb from his back. Robb pulled back on the reins and squeezed his legs, calming the stallion before anyone could try to step in. 

Jarmen, who is the one riding closest to Robb. Smiles at him once Avalon is walking calmly again. 

“You’ve gotten control of him relatively quickly all things considered.” Jarmen says. 

The two of them are in the middle of the group, in front of the carts and supplies, but behind his father, the main guards, and the clansmen. His father had decided that for the last day of the trip, Robb could ride Avalon, and if he could do it without falling off, then Avalon would be his horse. 

The morning had gone far better, with Avalon being more cooperative and Robb having more energy to deal with him. As the day wore on though, Avalon grew tired of carrying him, and got more wild. 

“This is the first time he’s been ridden this long, I’m surprised he isn’t worse.” Jarmen's smile is tight around his eyes now. 

He quickly tries to think of something to say, not wanting to offend Jarmen with his silence. 

“Who was supposed to be riding him?” Robb asks, genuinely curious. “I didn’t see him being ridden in the yard before we left Winterfell.”

Jarmen nodded. “We just bought him from the Umbers, to diversify our breeding stock. If he keeps growing like he is, he’ll be the biggest horse we have. A couple of the bigger stable-hands were gonna be riding him, but as you remember, that did not go as well as we had hoped.” 

Robb smiled to avoid grimacing at the memory of the dead wildings. They weren’t the first kill he remembered, but they were the first in this lifetime. 

“Did the Umbers name him, or someone from Winterfell?” Robb asked.

“We named him. After the island where the old northern kings had their swords named. I guess it's fitting that he be ridden by the future lord of Winterfell then.” Jarmen winked at Robb, who felt an odd surge of pride. 

The name was fitting, given the stallion’s appearance. Due to its size Robb had thought it was older when he was chasing it, but its wildness was more fitting for a younger horse. Avalon had a stocky build, in addition to his height. He had long mane and large hooves with longer hair on his lower legs. He was mostly black, with only a white muzzle and white hair near his hooves. 

Before Robb could say anything else, he heard noise towards the front of the group. Craning his neck, Robb could just make out other riders coming towards them. He kicked his heels in and steered Avalon towards the outskirts of the group to move forward faster. With a huff the horse listened. 

Robb moved past the rest of the group quickly, reaching his father’s group just as the other riders reached them. 

Robb recognized them instantly, the three moons on their shields a dead giveaway.  The guards shifted around so that Robb could reach his father, who was gesturing for him to come forward.

Robb pulled Avalon to a stop next to his father, who had turned to greet the newcomers. The group consisted of five men. An older man with a white beard was at the head of the group, with a large smile that seemed like it should be a permanent feature on his face. Next to him was a larger man, with a black beard streaked with white. Two of the men looked nearly identical with red beards and thick braids, their smiles nearly as broad as the man in the front. The only one who didn’t look happy to see them was the youngest of the group. A young man, lacking a beard, rode behind the man with the black beard. His hair was black, and he looked nervous, shifting around in his saddle, his eyes darting around the group. 

“The Ned! It is good to see you have arrived in one piece.” The old man bellowed, so loud it nearly matched the Greatjon's own voice. The similarity was a welcome surprise. 

His father smiled. “The Harclay, it is good to see you as well. It has been too long.” 

Ned gestured toward Robb, who moved Avalon forward to be even with his father. 

“This is my heir, Robb.” Robb inclined his head, as was customary, since The Harclay was technically a Lord. 

All five men turned to look at Robb. Not wanting to look foolish, he did his best not to squirm in the saddle. He was now overly aware of how oversized Avalon was for him to be riding. 

The man with the black beard grinned, “Got some balls, to be riding that size horse at that age.” The other men laughed, although the youngest seemed hesitant.

Remembering the gruff nature of the Clansmen during the war, Robb didn’t even pause before delivering his response.

“He hasn’t thrown me yet!” A bit of the joy and pride suitable for his age was evident in his voice.

All five clansmen looked surprised, then delighted. 

“I like this one, he’s got guts.” the black beard said, and Robb felt his father’s hand squeezed his shoulder in what he hoped was approval. 

“He’s been exited about visiting the clans for months” Ned said, addressing The Harclay once more. 

The Harclay laughed “Well then, best we get going. The best feast you’ll have on your journey awaits!” 

Ned smiled and gestured for The Harclay to move. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The Harclay’s holding could not be called a castle, but it was certainly not a house. Seemingly carved out of the land itself, the structure had only two towers, and two and a half visible walls. Cutouts were visible in the hills, seemingly intended to be windows. The building spread out, making up for its lack of height in its sprawl. The walls, in contrast, were uniformly large timber. Rather tall all things considered. 

The Harclay dismounted quickly as they passed through the gates, handing his horse off to a stable boy and yelling for people to come help the Winterfell group. Black Beard, who Robb had learned went by that name for reasons not yet disclosed. He was the son of The Harclay and heir to the clan. His own son was the youngest man in the group, named Tom. Unfortunately, Robb could tell the other two men apart, but knew that their names were Beric and Baric, which did not help. 

The stories Donnis told about being unable to see over the fires was believable, since the bonfires being used to cook were already almost as big as Robb was. The rest of the Winterfell group converged before Robb could get a clear look around. Not that he was looking too hard, since he realized there was a new problem. 

Avalon was too tall for him to dismount.

Robb had been near one of the few carts when he had mounted the stallion, managing to do so without drawing attention. 

Robb stared at the reins in his hands while trying to make a decision. He could either ask for help, which would be embarrassing, and could prevent him from riding Avalon again. He could attempt to dismount correctly and fall. Or he could attempt to dismount incorrectly and likely still fall. Grabbing the pommel of the saddle, Robb removed his left leg from the stirrup slowly, so as to not startle Avalon. Twisting so he was basically laid over the saddle, he removed his other leg from its stirrup. Bracing to likely land on his ass, Robb slid off Avalon.

He was promptly caught under his armpits before he could hit the ground. 

“You could have asked for assistance when dismounting, young lord, instead of falling off.” Ser Cassel said as he set Robb down. 

Robb turned to the Master of Arms, smiling sheepishly. 

“I thought I would stick the landing.” Robb said. 

Ser Cassel shook his head fondly in response. Gesturing for someone to come get Avalon. 

Robb didn’t move until the reins were safely with a stable hand, even if he could tell that Ser Cassel was ready to move on.

“You were told to stay on the horse Robb, not that you had to ride him perfectly.” Ser Cassel put a hand on Robb’s shoulder and guided him deeper into the holding. “Your Father wants for you to sit with him during the feast, so you need to be there for the customary greetings beforehand.” 

Robb opened his mouth to ask questions, but before he could Ser Cassel began to answer them. 

“You will remain at his right side, and speak when spoken to, much like when lords visit Winterfell. Make sure to be respectful and polite. Got all that.”

Robb nodded quickly, not too worried. The clansmen were not the most strict about formalities. 

Ser Cassel and Robb reached the castle quickly, moving through the propped open doors into a surprisingly large feast hall. Two tables ran the length of the room, lit with torches along the sides. A table was at the far end of the room, clearly intended for The Harclay and his family. Currently, only his father, The Harclay, Black Beard and Johan were near the head table, while some guards were stationed around the room. Robb felt Ser Cassel nudge him forward, so he quickened his walk to a faster pace. 

The hall was long and daunting. The walk was especially long, since he lacked any of the height he had when he was older. He could feel the eyes of the guards trailing him, and it made him even more aware of the time it was taking to reach his father. 

Without even realizing it, Robb had quickened his pace, but had been careful not to let his expression shift from the excitement that was likely expected. 

Judging from the way his father ruffled Robb’s hair when he arrived, he was guessing he was not entirely successful. 

Guessing that the formalities had already been exchanged, Robb got to listen to a more interesting conversation, one about the wildings.

It was Black Beard that was speaking to his father. 

“Our best guess is that there was some sort of power dispute, causing some wildings to flee over the wall, the biggest group in a while.” 

Robb looked at his father, who nodded along with a serious look on his face. 

Johan was the one to continue. “We knew there were fifteen in the group, a hunting trip spotted them on our northern border. We took care of twelve when they tried to raid our winter stores, but the three you encountered got away.”

Johan looked at Robb when he said the last part, but The Harclay didn’t notice. 

“I bet your men had no problems dealing with those bloody bastards. Sorry my men weren’t able to get to you in time. I would have sent them sooner, but normally we’re able to take care of wildings no problem.” The Harclay said gravely, the most serious Robb remembered seeing him, including their limited interaction in his first life.

Ned put his hand on Robb’s back, its weight a surprisingly steadying gesture for what Robb suspected was to be an interesting conversation. 

“Your men did almost reach us in time, in fact, they likely would have  if not for my son running ahead.” 

This time, The Harclay did look at Robb, with another new look on his face Robb hadn’t seen before. Then he gets down on one knee and bows his head. 

“I apologize my lord, I take full responsibility for any danger the young lord was in, I was the one who decided when they should be sent out.”

Black Beard was looking at Robb’s father, as was Johan. Before Ned could speak, Robb did instead.

“It was my fault, I got ahead of the group cause I ran off after a horse.” He blurted out quickly. Robb knew that his father wouldn’t blame The Harclay, but he still felt responsible for putting the man in that position. 

The Harclay and Black Beard looked at Robb, and out of the corner of his eye Robb could see some of the guards shift slightly towards the front of the room. 

“Stand please, there is nothing for you to apologize for.” Ned extended the hand that wasn’t on Robb’s back to The Harclay, helping the old man return to his feet. “One of our horses got loose and Robb here decided to run off after it. He ran into the wildings then. Your men reached us just after we caught up to him.” 

Robb felt his father’s hand move to his shoulder and pull him close.

“You were able to take care of the wildings then.” said Black Beard, seeming slightly confused. 

It was Johan that said it aloud, not Robb or Ned. 

“The young lord killed two of the wildings, and knocked out the one we brought back.” Johan chuckled, “He even kept ahold of the horses.”

Both Black Beard and the Harclay seemed to startle before looking at Ned. 

“That is the truth, Robb did defend himself from the wildings and catch the runaway horse.” His father smiled, but Robb could see the slight strain at the corners of his eyes. “In fact, it was the horse you saw him riding that was the one to run off.” 

Black beard whistled, “You’re certainly an impressive little wolf.” 

Robb smiled, ignoring how familiar that name sounded to another, when his father spoke again. 

“Indeed, although I would prefer if he stayed where he was supposed to.” This caused the three clansmen to laugh, and Robb to get a pointed look from his father, although his eyes lacked any of the coldness that had been there just the day before when talking about the incident. 

Before anyone else could speak, Robb heard footsteps. A quick turn of his head revealed a woman walking down the length of the hall. She was tall and clearly muscular, even though she was wearing thick animal hides as well as a multitude of weapons. Her hair was a light brown, with streaks of grey throughout, and tied back away from her face. As she got closer, Robb was able to tell she was older, though not quite as old as his own parents. When she was only a few feet away from the group she stopped and dropped to one knee. 

The Harclay looked at Ned, who gestured at him to speak. 

“You have news of the Feast Raya?” The Harclay asked the woman.”

“The food is ready, and Jana assures the weather will hold for the night. Whenever The ned and the Harclay wish, the feast can begin.” The woman said, lifting her head to look up at the group. Robb saw her glance quickly at him before looking away.

Robb remembered the food from the feast in his first life and couldn’t help shifting back and forth. His impatience was quickly noticed by his father. 

“Robb has been looking forward to this for weeks, so why don’t we get going before he runs off again.” His father said, moving his hand to ruffle Robb’s hair. Robb’s hands shot up, a laugh escaping him. The Harclay’s chest puffed out, and what Robb now considered his signature returned in full force. His voice also reached a bellow once again. 

“Well best not disappoint the little wolf! The Ned, I invite you and yours to our hearth. All that is ours is yours, we will provide warmth against the winter!”

Ned smiled, and responded in a rare example of his voice reaching a volume higher than normal. 

“I accept your offer to come to your hearth. We will join you against the cold.” 

With those words, all the men turned to leave, and with a gesture from The Harclay Raya also stood and turned to leave. Robb hurried his steps to keep up with the rest. 

He heard a loud whistle from Raya, and in response a resounding cheer was heard from outside. 

Not even halfway down the hall Robb was already falling behind. He sped up, not wanting to fall behind. He saw Ned look down at him, before an amused glint appeared in his eye. 

For the second time since they arrived Robb felt hands under his arms before he suddenly left his feet. Ned swung him up and onto his shoulder. A noise escaped him, but nobody spared him more than a glance and a smile. 

They crossed the hall much faster than Robb had on the way in. His father’s much longer stride was likely what made the difference. 

Robb was smiling so hard his face hurt. The shouts and cheers from the courtyard only compounded the feeling of excitement. As they emerged from the hall, Robb realized that if anything, Donnis was definitely right about the size of the fires. 

Chapter Text

The food was laid out on tables near the fires, most people were sitting on logs by fires or dancing near the musicians. No other lights were needed, as the bonfires lit the entirety of the yard. Robb could even make out the horses and carts still near the gates. Large tables and benches were scattered around the yard, however just as many people ate standing or milling around as the ones eating at the tables.

Their group walked towards one of the larger bonfires, with the table nearest to the center of the yard. Many inclined their heads as they passed, while others offered food. Robb managed to grab some wild berries and ate them slowly to mask his growing anxiety. 

While he knew that this was most certainly not the twins, it was a feast of celebration all the same. Even though the only similarity was the great number of people eating food, and the music, the anxiety was there all the same. 

Robb continued to look around, trying to distract himself. The Winterfell guards mixed freely with the clansmen sharing stories and laughing. There was an insane amount of food, and Robb could see children weaving around people in a game of chase. There were dogs, also weaving though people, but their purpose was eating fallen and gifted food. There was at least one barrel of what Robb assumed was mead near every fire, and a great deal more in groups around the yard. He could see a variety of food, including venison, boar, and some other meats Robb couldn’t identify from a distance. It was certainly a joyous event. 

The wedding at the Twins had seemed joyous as well. Until it wasn’t.

Robb could see people staring at him, which only made the growing anxiety worse. People were always staring. Suddenly the wild berries felt as though they were caught in his throat, and his face grew hot. His vision blurred at the edges, narrowing down to the table just ahead of him. The only thing that felt real to him was his father’s hands on his legs, holding him in place, and acting as bright spots of heat on limbs he could no longer feel.

Distantly, he could hear voices laughing. 

Why were they laughing. 

His friends were dead 

he was dying 

where was greywind 

where was his mother 

he wanted greywind he wanted his mother

 what should he do what could he do he failed oh god what—

The feel of hands under his armpits startled him out of his own head. He felt himself get lifted up before being swung back down onto his feet before releasing him. He stumbled. Only managing to stay on his feet by locking his knees. The wild berries slipped out of his hands and hit the ground just in front of him. They were gone in an instant, disappearing as a sleek brown dog gobbled them up. Robb let out a gasp, feeling disoriented and shaky. 

It looked up at him. Golden eyes met his and Robb could see the dog’s tail start to wag. Robb reached forward to pet it, but it leaned forward to lick the hand that had held the berries. Robb just stared, he could tell his father was speaking, but couldn’t hear him. He reached out to scratch behind the dog's ear, the soft fur reminding him of Grey Wind. 

The thought of his wolf calmed him enough that he was able to force himself to be aware of his surroundings, even if it also caused him to miss his companion.

“Robb, come eat. The dog will be here later.” His father sounds exasperated, and Robb cringes to think how many times he's been told the same thing.

“In a minute!” Robb says not looking at his father, rather switching to pet the dog with both hands, rubbing behind its ears. The sigh is one he’s heard many times before.

“The stark boy pays more attention to beasts than he does people. Seemed more interested in his horse than us and now he ignores us for a dog.” It was one of the twin Harclays, Beric or Baric, he wasn’t sure which.” 

The next voice was clearly identifiable as Johan spoke harshly to the other man.

“The little wolf spilled the blood of wildings for that horse, and has acted as any warrior would. Allow him to act as a child as he pleases.” Robb looked up to see Johan glaring at the two men, as well as the rest of the table looking at Johan, the whispers already starting. The twin Harclays both turned their heads to look at Robb, and purely by accident, the one who spoke made eye contact with Robb. 

His panic remained, accompanied by a fast beating heart. 

But the toothy grin that broke out on Robb’s face was unhindered by it.

******

The feast was delicious. It had taken a pointed look from his father to get him to the table. Like the details about the bonfires, Ned’s stories of the clan feasts were not exaggerated. The Harclay kept calling for more food and drink, ensuring that their plates were never empty. His father and the Harclay mainly talked about the Clan’s preparations for winter, which were surprisingly similar to what Robb knew of Winterfell’s own preparations. He mostly tuned it out, instead choosing to listen to the clan’s stories of hunting for the feast. Most were thing Robb heard about in Winterfell, but one was interesting. 

“Nearly broke my back helping carry that boar back and you get all the credit.” A man down the table said to Raya, the woman Robb had met in the hall. 

She snorted and jabbed her knife in his direction.

“Cause I tracked the boar to the eastern border, and killed it, no thanks to you. Your arse was distracted by a bloody squirrel. Nearly gutted me like a damn fish, hell if it doesn’t taste good enough to be worth it though.” Raya said, stabbing a piece of meat and eating it to emphasize her point. 

“I helped track it!” Robb couldn’t see the man speaking, but he sounded young, and indignant. 

“How big was it?” Robb asked. 

Raya turned to him and grinned. “Nearly as tall as I am and twice as wide. With tusks as long as my forearm. You ever hunted boar, little wolf?” 

Robb shook his head. “Only smaller stuff. How’d you kill the boar?” 

Raya wide with her arms. “I use a really big spear. Most boar you can kill with a well placed short blade, but some need something longer to put ‘em down.” She winked at him, “Got this Bastard right in the throat.” 

Before anyone else could offer up another story The Harclay stood. 

“I think it's time to give our guests some entertainment.” The Harclay yelled out to the yard, and was immediately met with cheers. There was a flurry of movement as people began to clamor closer to the center of the yard. The dancing stopped, and the music changed from a jovial tune to a series of drum beats. 

The table cleared, and chairs were brought over for Ned and the Harclay. Robb sat on the ground by his father, with Ser Cassel standing at his back. The same dog as before came and laid next to him – although that likely had more to do with the meat he was eating than anything else. 

He did give it some though.

Robb could see people standing on tables to see over the large group of people.  He could see Donnis and another young guard chugging drinks while trying not to fall off the table. Robb caught his eye and waved with a grin. Donnis waved back, his companion grabbing him when the action knocked him off balance. Food was still being passed around and lots of drinks.

“Are there any grievances to be settled?” asked The Harclay. 

“I WANT MY BLOODY DRINKING HORN BACK TORR!” someone towards the back of the group yelled. This was met with a round of laughter. Robb glanced at his father who was also smiling. A man stepped forward, young and broad, and took a pointed drink from a completely normal looking drinking horn. 

“Come and get it then you prick!” the man said with a smile, as another man, presumably the one who yelled, pushed his way to the center. 

“To first blood, disarmament, or yield." The Harclay said, before once again taking his seat. Both men had axes, about the same size and length. Both also had shields emblazoned with the Harclay coat of arms. They said something to one another, but the roar of the crowd and the drums made it impossible to hear. 

In a blink they were moving. Axes meeting or hitting shields as both tried to knock the other down or disarm them. The axes seemed to take more effort to swing than a sword, but the blows were more pointed and impactful. There were shouts and jeers from the crowd, calling for one or the other to win.

Out of the corner of his eye Robb sees his father whisper something to the Harclay, who looks absolutely delighted. 

He turns his attention back to the fight just as one of the men hooks the other’s shield with his axe and yanks it away. The one now without a shield tries to get another hit in, but the other man, the one who began the challenge, blocks with his shield and puts his axe at the other’s throat. The cheers somehow get louder, the two separate and put away their weapons. The man who lost, Torr, unhooks his drinking horn and hands it to the winner. Who claps him on the back and starts waving it in the. Both are laughing. 

The Harclay claps his hands and stands. “Well now that the usual fare is done, I would like to test my own metal.” He steps forward before turning back and bowing to Robb’s father. If The Ned would be gracious enough to join me in a Feat of Arms.”

Robb turned to his father in excitement, and was thrilled when he stood. 

“I accept.” Ned took the greatsword offered to him by Ser Cassel, likely because using Ice would be unfair in a fight that was for entertainment. The Harclay drew his own Greatsword, and the crowd roared. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Robb watched as the Harclay starts the fight with a strong overhead swing that Robb’s father easily blocks. Their swords meet over and over, Ned clearly on the defensive. Still, he doesn’t give an inch. As he meets every swing of the Harclay’s sword, he is fast enough that it is the Harclay that is pushed back. The Harclay does get an opening, getting a clear swing from the left. Ned turns to face it, while stepping back to gain distance. He blocks, then quickly steps forward again. The Harclay tries to attack again, but Robb’s father is too close and he is unable to get any real momentum. Trying to remedy this, the Harclay steps back. Which acts as Ned’s cue to go on the offensive.

Robb bounces on his heels as his father begins to force the Harclay further back. He has seen his father fight, but watching him against a man Robb barely knows is far more interesting. 

The fight eventually reaches what Robb considers an inevitable conclusion, when his father hits the Harclay’s sword hard enough near the hilt so that he almost loses his grip, taking the opening, Ned brings his sword up to the Harclay’s throat. 

Silence, then a cheer goes out as the Harclay laughs and sheaths his sword. He bows to Ned, who inclines his head in return. They say something, but like with the last fight the crowd makes it impossible to hear. As the two men return to their seats Ned hands the borrowed great sword back to Ser Cassel. Robb is immediately at his father’s side. 

“I knew you’d win.” he says, quiet enough that the Harclay can’t hear. Ned laughs. 

“I appreciate the confidence.” 

Another round of cheers go up as Raya and another man enter the center.

“Let's see if you can predict the winner of this fight.”

****

Robb is right in saying Raya will win, and is only wrong on the winner of the fights once. Eventually, the entertainment changed from fighting to dancing. The musicians played loud, upbeat tunes, sometimes switching with others so they themselves could dance. They had had to move tables out of the way, even though some had seemed perfectly happy to dance atop them. 

Robb was currently being swung around by one of the Winterfell guards. This dance had a lot of spinning and switching partners. The few kids left dancing were being spun around in the air, and Robb was no exception. He was laughing and dizzy, with sweat dripping from his brow with the exertion. He was practically tossed to Raya who caught him smoothly. Robb was happy she spun him in the opposite direction, else he might have puked up the feast. The music reached an end and he was placed back on his feet. If it had been a more formal dance, he would have had to bow. Instead Raya ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll see you in the morning little wolf, I've business to take care of tonight.” she grinned, and Robb smiled back. Turning to look for his father, who was speaking to Ser Cassel. At one of the few remaining tables near the center of the yard. Ducking through people as they began to move for the next dance, Robb made his way over to the two men. 

“Did he hurt himself?” his father asked Ser Cassel as Robb sat on the bench next to his father, turning to the table behind him and grabbing a drink. 

“Not seriously. He managed to avoid falling in the actual fire, but banged his head on the stones. Edwyle is taking care of him.” Ser Cassel sighed. “He’s the only one that hurt himself, but I guarantee some very unhappy men in the morning.”

Robb’s father shook his head as Robb leaned against him. “Is anyone not drunk off their arse?” 

“Ser Cassel raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect anyone to be, my lord?” Both men chuckled. The music changed again, as did the dance. People began to form lines. His father said something else to Ser Cassel, but Robb had stopped listening. He stared at the fires as he fought to keep his eyes from closing. His limbs had suddenly become much heavier, and his eyes were dry. 

He told himself they would only be closed for a minute before he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

He could only travel three paces before he reached the end of the small space and had to turn around. Back and forth, back and forth he went, all the while sensing violence in the air. His boy needed him, but he was told to stay within the wooden walls. Away from his boy. The wood was old and easy to break. But he was told to wait, and he did not want to disobey.

He felt great terror and pain, then smelled the blood. The pain was in his chest. He howled, an angry painfilled cry that should have called his pack, but there was only his boy, and he did not answer.

        Clawing the wood only splintered it. The pain in his chest got worse, and he backed up to break the cage. His boy needed him. He would not leave him alone. He would protect him as he always did.

        Something struck him in the face. He yelped. A stone was now on the ground. Another hit his back, and another his leg. He turned and jumped, biting the next arm that extended to throw a stone. A cry of pain. Blood filled his mouth, a familiar taste.

        A stick went through his back leg. Then another through his side. He tore himself away from the wall towards the beasts that had done this. He wanted their blood too. He would tear it from them and then find his boy.

        A blinding pain erupted in his chest, and then nothing. Loss like he had never known consumed him as he howled.

        He was gone. His boy was dead. He could feel his boy fade away, only a sliver left in the back of his mind.

        Another bolt through his chest, another stone to the eye. His vision went red. He whined in pain. Everything hurt.

        Loud noises. Screaming and more blood. Cheers. Laughter. Familiar voices as unfamiliar cries and he wanted out. The wood would be harder to break now. Everything hurt.

        Another arm was within reach. He grabbed it and did not let go. He wanted the bone. He wanted something. He wanted death.

        He sensed something coming but did not see it. Did not care. His boy was gone. The last thing he felt was the impact on the back of his neck.

        Nothing.

******

Robb shot up, hands going to his neck, letting out a strangled cry. He registered his surroundings surprisingly quickly.

A decent sized bed in a small room covered warm furs. A window was on the east wall, a small one carved out of the stone wall. The wooden shutters closed, leaving the room dark.

He heard a sob, then realized it came from him. Robb covered his mouth, not wanting to be heard by anyone that might be nearby. Not knowing how to explain that he was crying over his direwolf’s death.

Grey Wind’s death.

Robb had known that Grey Wind had died. It was a logical conclusion to that night. If the Freys and the Boltons were going to kill him it was inevitable they would kill his direwolf, one of his greatest symbols of power.

He had left him locked in the stable like a common dog. His greatest ally and friend and he had left him to die in a fucking box. Robb’s mother had been right, he should have never let Grey Wind leave his side.

He curled over, tears dripping onto the furs. Even as they had shot at him, Grey Wind had been thinking of how to save him. He had felt Robb die. His stomach churned and his mouth watered as the full force of his grief hit him.

Robb threw himself out of bed, nearly falling over himself in his rush to get to his chamber pot. Luckily it was in a small alcove not too far from the bed. Even so, he barely made it there before vomiting. He was on his knees curling over the pot holding it in place as everything he ate the night before was forced back out of his body in violent waves. It burned his nose and throat as it came up. His tears were unrelenting until his vision was entirely obscured.

He puked until there was nothing left, and then dry heaved. He was light headed. His skin was slick with sweat but he was cold. He grabbed a small cloth in the stool next to him, using it to wipe his face. Thankfully, the cotton was clean and got rid of whatever had been on his face. Robb tossed it to the floor next to the pot, not wanting to hold it a second longer. Trembling, he forced himself backwards until his back was on against the bed, next to some furs that had been thrown during his frantic movements.

Robb stared at the furs, one of which was a wolf pelt. It was darker than Grey Wind, and smaller than his pelt was. Without thinking, Robb reached for it, fingers curling deep into the soft fur. He pulled it towards him, over his legs and clutched it to his chest. He tried to steady his breathing, even as he continued to cry. His head was clearer now, the blind panic that had gripped him when he awoke had lessened to a mix of dread, guilt, and grief.

Robb knew the dream was not a figment of his imagination, it was a memory. Grey Wind’s memory. Robb’s ability to warg into Grey Wind was a form of magic, but he did not know how this memory had come to him. He had never dreamt through the eyes of Grey Wind in any time other than the present. Had he experienced it at the time and only remembered it now, or was it some sort of message from the Old Gods, reminding him of what remained in his future if he did not make some changes.

He pulled the wolf pelt closer, burying his face in it as he shook. It had to be a message, but for what? There wasn’t much Robb could do at this point other than watch and wait. He was a child for gods’ sake. He remembered getting stabbed in the chest well enough, as well as the screams as his men died around him. What was he supposed to do right now?

“I remember.” Robb mumbled into the fur. His chest hurt. “I remember.” He mumbled again, knowing who he was speaking to but not knowing why.

He stayed there trembling against the bed. Curled around a wolf pelt that wasn’t the right color, until he fell asleep again.

******

He felt as if his eyes were only closed for a few moments when he awoke to a knock at the door.

“Lord Robb?” It was Ser Cassel. “Your Lord Father requests you dress and come down to the yard.”

Robb pried his eyes open. His throat was scratchy and his head was pounding as if he had been one of the drunkards at the feast. His eyes had crusted shut during his second bout of sleep.

He was on his side, a wolf pelt in his grasp. The room was lighter now, the earliest rays of light coming through the window indicated it was very early in the morning.

Ser Cassel knocked again, and Robb vaulted to his feet in a clumsy scramble that almost sent him to the ground again. He dropped the wolf pelt and stepped over it, moving quickly to the door. He wiped his face with his sleeves as he event, trying to remove any evidence of his panic the night before. He opened the door, gritting his teeth as he pulled it..

Ser Cassel was in the hall, dressed in riding clothes. He looked down at Robb and raised an eyebrow.

“Good morning Lord Robb.”

Robb forced a smile, hoping there wasn’t vomit on his shift.

“Good morning Ser Cassel. I only have to dress, and then I’ll be ready for breakfast.” Robb winced at the roughness of his voice. He moved to close the door before remembering something important enough to warrant speaking a second time

“Do you know where my clothes are?”

******

Robb’s clothes were in a wardrobe by the door. They had apparently been brought up yesterday before the feast, since this was the room he would be staying in for the duration of their stay. He would have known all this, had his father not carried him to bed. This piece of information was only shared with Robb during the walk towards the yard for breakfast. He felt his cheeks grow warm hearing the humor in Ser Cassel’s voice when he shared that piece of information.

Robb had dressed quickly, putting on riding clothes like Ser Cassel, and using his other clothes to wipe his face again — after he was sure they were clean. This time when he ad opened the door he saw the two guards standing outside. His stomach dropped, if they had heard him then he was screwed. But the two men only bowed their heads. If they mentioned something he would claim an upset stomach from the feast — which would be an inevitable conversation one someone emptied the chamber pot.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the potential uncomfortable conversation waiting for him as he rushed to keep up with the old knight. They went down a few winding flights of stairs, and Robb was struck by the odd feeling of having been there before, but not knowing where he was. It happened in the woods around Winterfell sometimes, where he would know the feel of a place, but not the exact location. It made sense, since when Robb was here in his first life his primary concern was practicing swordplay with Ser Cassel, not studying the layout of the castle.

The staircase ended at another short hall, and they took the doorway that apparently led to the kitchen. Robb looked around, noticing how it was smaller than the ones in Winterfell. There were only a couple cooks, but it smelled good in their all the same. There was a table right by the door they entered through where a young woman was cutting a wheel of cheese.

“Morning.” Robb said to the woman, who looked up, startled. He smiled at her, and was pleased when she returned it. It was a nice smile, it made her eyes look brighter than when she had first looked up.

Robb pointed towards one of the pieces she hadn’t salted yet. “Can I have some? If it’s not a problem for you?” Ser Cassel was waiting for him by a door to his right, but he didn’t intervene, so Robb was going to assume that this wasn’t a problem — for him to ask at least.

The woman's smile stayed, which was a good sign. She picked up one of the bigger pieces and put it in his hand. She leaned forward,

“Just don’t tell.” She whispered with a wink. Robb’s smile widened, and he nodded.

“Thanks!” He said. The woman gave him a quick wave before turning back to her work. Ser Cassel had the door open now and ushered Rob through. He ate the cheese as he climbed the stairs. It was cold and moist. The flavor was a little bitter, but good. It helped wake him up, which he desperatly needed.

He ran up the stairs ahead of Ser Cassel, and was greeted by the yard, which had far fewer people and fires in it than the night before. Robb saw most of the Winterfell guards that were in the yard tending to the horses and carts. Some others were by Ned, in conversation with The Harclay and an older woman. The kitchen entrance led them out closer to the stable than the doors of the main hall, which blocked most of the view of the yard.

Ser Cassel tapped Robb on the shoulder, getting his attention before he started speaking.

“I have to check on some things. Your Lord Father wants to to help with your horse this morning, so do that and stay by the stables.”

Robb nodded while chewing. Ser Cassel didn’t seem to mind, he just ruffled Robb’s hair before turning towards a group of guards. Robb watched him for a moment before moving towards the stables. It wasn’t too busy, and Robb could see a familiar young man with a fresh beard near the front of the stables, cleaning what appeared to be saddles.

“Morning Jarmen!” He reached him quickly, and could see the sweat on his face. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he was definitely taller than Robb at the moment, so up close he had to look up. Jarmen gives him a tired smile.

“Morning Lord Robb. Did you enjoy the feast last night?”

“Oh it was great. Did you see the fights? Those were my favorite part.”

Jarmen’s smile look less tired. “Oh I saw them. I was surprised Lord Eddard participated, but it was an honor to watch.”

Robb could see Jarmen’s eyes moving between Robb’s hands and his face.

“You should try a piece. It’s really good cheese.” He broke off about half of what was left and held it out to the stable hand.

“Oh no I could not possibly- “

“Take it.” Robb interrupted. “I have to take care of Avalon anyway and I accidentally took to much.” He had not, but Jarmen didn’t need to know that.

He reluctantly took the cheese.

“Thank you Lord Robb.”

“You din’t have to thank me. Like I said I have to go take care of Avalon. Speaking of which, do you know if anyone had taken care of him this morning? I wouldn’t want it repeat something already done.”

Jarmen pointed at one of the other stable hands. “Ask Halder. He’s the one that was last working with the horses.”

“Thank you.” Jarmen bowed his head before returning to his work. Robb ate his last bite of cheese as he began walking towards the newly dubbed Halder.

The man was with another horse, fixing a horseshoe. Robb waited off to the side. The man was older and larger than Jarmen. His beard was almost as white as Ser Cassel’s but he was clearly not a swordsman or knight. He could probably throw Robb across the yard though.

Halder set the horses leg down and turned towards the table Robb was standing by.

“By the bloody gods!” Halder hand flew to his chest as he turned towards Robb.

“Morning goodman.” It felt awkward to talk to a man currently bent over with his hands on his knees. Robb couldn’t tell if the wheezing was laughter or a problem.

Halder stood up, and the smile clarified it was laughing. “Morning Lord Robb, I sorry about my mouth, you scared the seven hells out of me. Now what can I do for you?”

“Sorry about that. I’m supposed to help with Avalon this morning.” Robb rubbed the back of his neck and hoped his smile didn’t look forced. Scaring the man was acccidental, but after the morning’s emotional turmoil the shock on the old man’s face made his stomach churn.

The old stable hand nodded.

“Ah that beast. I’ll let you have a go. But he’s already taken a chunk out of someone with those giant hooves of his.” Halder walked towards one of the stable entrances while shaking his head. “The equipment is already being cleaned and the stalls been mucked. Just feed him and give him some water. Then give him a good brushing. I’ll be in there soon to check his hooves.”

Avalon’s stall was just within the door. He was the loudest horse in the stable. Huffing and pawing the ground. His mane was still a mess of sticks and knots, and Robb could see the dirt on his coat.

Halder pointed towards a pile of hay in the corner. “That’s the food you should give him, the water is around back. Three buckets full should be enough. Brushes should be on the far wall.” He looked down at Robb. “I’ll be out front, and there are other people around here somewhere. If he starts getting testy let someone know. A kick from a horse this big will knock you out for a week at least.”

Robb nodded seriously. This seemed to satisfy Halder, since he just nodded in return and left. Looking around, Robb didn’t see anyone else in the stable. It was surprisingly quiet. He turned back to Avalon, which had stopped moving so much, but was clearly still aggravated.

Robb walked over to the horse to check his water and food.

Nothing.

******

It was easy to give Avalon food, but the water took a bit longer. The buckets were heavy and it took awhile to get them back to the stall. Luckily he was able to find a stool so he didn’t have to open the door to fill the water.

The physical labor was good. It helped Robb clear his head. He grabbed one of the bigger brushes first. It would work better for Avalon’s coat. He stopped outside the stall. He was too short to reach all of Avalon’s coat. Luckily the horse was at the back of the stall drinking water, so he opened the stall door and quickly brought the stool inside with him.

Avalon had stopped drink and was now staring at Robb while pawing the ground. He approached the agitated horse slowly, with nothing in his hands. He made sure to approach his front, avoiding his back legs. Robb slowly put his arms out, reaching towards Avalon’s neck. The horse backed up, but turned more towards Robb so it was fine. He seemed to like the neck scratches, and bent down so Robb could get basins his ears. Avalon seemed to like the brushing even more - once Robb was able to bring the stool over.

The brushing was mindless work, so Robb was able to let his mind turn towards his predicament.

First the wildings. They had all been captured the first time around. Robb remembered that vividly because there had been bragging about it at the feast. Secondly Avalon. Robb vaguely remembered him being on the trip, but the horse had definitely not been at Winterfell long. Robb also didn’t remember him escaping. He could have done something minor that caused the horse to spook - though he had no clue what. The wildings couldn’t be his fault though. Someone else could be here that was also sent back, but that didn’t seem likely. What purpose would it serve.

Robb paused his brushing, which earned him to a snort of protect from Avalon. He started up again as he though back to his conversation with two different Stark men. His father had been concerned about Robb’s safety, but had also assumed that avoiding the fight was the best option. Torrhen Stark however would not have questioned it.

Was it some sort of lesson then?

Robb judged that Avalon was clean enough on this side, so he moved to the stool to the other side and started over there.

Robb knew his father was willing to go to war for when he believed it was necessary, he had done it multiple times before. He was respected and loved for it. But he had told Robb that he should have chosen another option, even though it would have put him at a disadvantage.

Avalon’s other side was less dirty so Robb finished faster. He ran out of the stall to switch to a brush more suited for Avalon’s mane and longer hair.

It had to be a message or a lesson. It could be something else, but in this situation Robb was willing to trust his gut. And his gut said that’s what it was. The exact lesson he didn’t know, but if he were to articulate what the experience showed him it was that quick action may not be the most honorable, but it gave him the advantage.

Avalon’s mane was done, and now very nice looking. He clearly didn’t like it as much as the brushing, but the neck scratches kept him calm. Robb moved to his tail next.

What about the dream then? Was it another lesson? Robb’s hands would have been shaking if they weren’t brushing Avalon’s tail. His vision blurred with tears, however, and he had to wipe his eyes.

Learning how Grey Wind died didn’t fit with the wildings. It only showed Robb what he stood to lose. And how he failed.

“Lord Robb!” Halder said from somewhere outside the stall. Robb bolted up from where he was finishing brushing out the longer hair near Avalon’s hooves.

“Yes Halder? I’m still in the stall.” Robb said as he walked over to the door, giving his horse one last scratch as he went. Halder looked at him strangely, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Your father and one of the clansmen are asking for you outside. I’ll finish up with your horse.” He opened the door to the stall for Robb, and nodded in approval when he saw that Robb had finished.

“Thank you Halder. Avalon seems calmer now, so hopefully that helps.” Robb smiled when Halder grunted and waved him off.

His father and Johan were right outside the stable.

Robb ran up to to them.

“Morning father. Morning Johan.” His father smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, while Johan bowed his head.

“Morning Robb. Did you sleep well?” His father asked.

Robb lied through his teeth and hoped nobody noticed. “Yes, I was fine.”

Ned nodded. “Good. Johan here was wondering if you wanted to go hunting with him and Raya. They are leaving as soon as they are ready.”

“That would be great!” Robb looked at Johan, who smiled.

“It won’t be a long trip, we will be back just after sunset.”

Robb looked to his father, who smiled fondly.

“Go get your things.”

Chapter Text

“Use the end of the handle, away from the blade.” Johan was showing Robb how to throw the axe he had been carrying. It was a small one, made for hunting. Robb had his sword and his knife on him, as well as a bow. Edwyle was with them, but he insisted that he was too old to hunt, and was only there to watch over Robb. Raya was off checking some snare traps in the area before they moved on. 

“One hand over the other. Once you're older you can try throwing it one handed, but right now you’re gonna need to do it this way to kill anything.” Johan said, as he adjusted Robb’s hands. 

“Check your feet.” Edwyle said from a nearby log. “They should be more spaced apart.” 

Robb adjusted his feet as instructed. He had only learned throwing axes in passing before, since he and Jon liked to practice with swords most when they trained. He wondered what his siblings were doing, and if his mother had been told of the situation with the wildings. He didn’t know if he wanted her to or not. 

“Focus.” Johan said, his voice firm but kind. Robb winced. 

“Aim for that tree.” He pointed at a good sized oak tree across the small clearing. Robb brought the axe back over his head, and then without hesitation threw it. It hit low on the tree, handle first. It hit the ground with a dull thud. 

Edwyle gave a low whistle. “Not bad for a first throw.” 

Robb frowned. The axe hadn’t even stuck in the tree. He hadn't practiced much, but he should have been able to do that. He had been able to do it before. 

“You’re too tense.” Robb looked up and saw that Johan was handing him back the axe. He took it and positioned his hands again. 

Johan’s hands circled Robb’s wrists. “These need to be more loose. Or the axe won’t hit right.” He pulled Robb’s wrists up until his arms were straight out in front of him. “Let go about here.” He moved to the side again and nodded for Robb to continue.

The air stung his lungs as he took a breath. He brought the axe up, then brought his arms down harder than before. 

The axe hit the tree at its trunk, but did hit blade first. It stuck with a quiet thunk. 

“You got the blade to hit this time.” Edwyle pointed out. 

“Still too low though.” He said. Johan grunted, not saying anything.

The axe had hardly stuck into the tree. Robb grabbed it and walked back to stand next to Johan again. 

The thunk of the axe hitting the tree was louder when he threw it again.

******

“That tree dead yet?” Raya called as she entered the clearing. Robb was sweating, his face hot. All three of them turned to look at her. 

“It might be. If he keeps going at it.” Edwyle said. 

“Get anything good?” Johan asked. Raya held up three decent sized hares. 

“Not much, just these three in the snares.” She sighed before gesturing back towards the way she came. “Saw some deer tracks in another clearing. We could go there if you lot are done here.”

All three of them looked at Robb. He hadn’t missed the tree yet, and a couple of times he was able to get the axe to stick in the right spot. But mostly he hit too low or the axe fell to the ground. 

“Can I throw one more? If we have time?” Robb asked. He hadn’t thrown it right the last five times. The thought of leaving without one more good throw made his stomach twist.

“Well I wanna see you throw anyway little wolf. So let’s see it.” Raya moved to stand on his other side. All three of them were staring at him.

Robb looked straight ahead. There were gouges in the tree, and bark littered the ground in front of it. The air had gotten colder, but there was no wind. His focus narrowed down to directly in front of him.

His arms went up, but he didn’t move his gaze. 

The last man was in front of him. 

He relaxed his wrists and adjusted his feet.

Some faceless Frey.

Robb took a breath and brought his arms down hard. 

There was still blood on the axe.

He let go. 

The axe hit the tree with a dull thud. Right where it was supposed to go. 

Raya whooped and slapped Robb on the back, sending him stumbling forward. Edwyle clapped and stood up from his log. 

A large hand came down on his head, ruffling his hair. Johan smiled down at him, as he walked forward to get the axe. 

“Nice throw little wolf.” Johan said as he handed Robb back the axe. Robb smiled back, but it felt fake. His chest hurt again.

“Thanks.”  Robb kept the axe out of his belt, opting to keep it in his hand instead.  Johan’s brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Robb turned toward Raya instead. 

“Which way is the clearing?”

******

The wind was blowing now, not anything too harsh, but Robb could see his three companions looking at the sky. It was darker than it should be.

“We shouldn’t stay long, that’s a snow sky if I’ve ever seen one.” Edwyle said.

Robb could tell he was right. Everyone always called summer snows a ‘snow sky’. They were always a flat grey that matched his father’s eyes when he was happy. He’d never seen winter, but everyone said those skies were always far darker. Lord Reed had told Robb a story when he was young, about how beasts would form out of the snow of winter storms and lead people to weeping weirwood trees. The sap would bring good luck.

Raya and Johan both nodded. Even with that observation none of them seemed too concerned. 

Raya turned to Robb. “You and I will go to the other side, and these two will stay here. We’ll watch the clearing and see if that deer comes back before we have to get going. I shoot first” 

Robb looked to Edwyle, since he was technically the one looking after Robb. The old guard nodded, gesturing for him to go. Raya had already started moving, so Robb had to hurry to catch up. 

They walked until they reached two oak trees on the opposite side of the clearing than they started. 

Raya gestured upwards to the branches. “Need any help climbing up, little wolf?”

Robb looked up at Raya out of the corner of his eye, and smiled. He climbed trees at Winterfell all the time, this one wouldn’t be a problem. He slid his axe into his belt before reaching up and grabbing a large knot in the tree which he used to hoist himself up into the branches. Once he was high enough to move between branches easily, Robb started climbing in earnest, staying close to the trunk. He found a good spot halfway up to sit and watch the clearing.

Robb heard the sounds of Raya climbing her own tree. He couldn’t really see much of Raya through the branches and leaves, but he knew she was there.

The clearing they were looking down at was on a mountain, but not very high on the slope. This was good for deer hunting, since deer liked to stay low on the mountain but would use the creek nearby as their water source.

Robb leaned forward. He pulled out his bow and loosely strung an arrow before settling back to wait. He assumed Raya had done the same. He couldn’t see Edwyle and Johan, but they were also probably up in the trees – if Edwyle could climb. 

The leaves rustled around him as the breeze picked up. No other sounds were around except his breathing, all the small animals were silent for once. Still, anything could come through the clearing.

Now all there was to do was wait.

******

Robb could see his breath hang in the air by the time a couple of deer came through the clearing. The sky had darkened, as had the spaces between the trees. 

Robb looked over in Raya’s direction, but couldn’t see more than her shape through the shadows and the branches.

Nothing had come through the clearing before the deer. Robb pulled back on his bow but had no real intention to shoot, Raya was shooting first, which would likely spook the second deer. 

The larger of the two was a buck with decent sized antlers. The other was a doe. Neither were exceptionally large, but they looked healthy enough from this distance. 

The deer were not moving through the clearing very fast. Rather a slow walk away from the creek and up further into the mountains. Robb watched as they both suddenly froze.

Less than a second Raya’s arrow went through the buck’s eye. Another caught the doe in the side, but it still went running. The buck landed with a thud. 

“Shit.” Robb heard Johan say across the clearing. Robb quickly puts his bow away and scrambles down the tree, landing in a crouch. Raya has done the same, and is already running across the clearing. Robb does the same to catch up. 

Johan and Edwyle meet them next to the deer, with the latter being slightly out of breath. 

“You or me?’ Raya asked Johan. 

“I got it.” Johan looked pissed as he turned and ran off after the deer. They all watched as he vanished into the trees.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get too far.” Edwyle said as he bent down to look at the buck. 

“Nice shot.” Robb said to Raya.

“Thanks little wolf.” Raya said as she also bent down to look at the buck. “Hope this buck tastes as good as he looks.” 

Edwyle looked at Raya, “How you gonna carry it?” he asked.

She snorted, “not offering to help?” 

The old guard smiled, “I sat in a tree for too long to be able to carry this thing back.” Robb and Raya both laughed. 

“I’ll tie its feet and carry it over my shoulders, we’re not far so it won’t be a problem.” She reached for something at her waist and paused.

“Aw shit.” Raya stood and looked around. “I dropped the hares.” 

Edwyle also stood, brows furrowed. “When did you do that?” 

“I don’t know? I had them in the tree.”

“They probably fell off when you jumped down. I can go check over by the tree?”

Raya shook her head and bent back down. “Go ahead but something else probably got them already.

“Okay I’ll check anyway, just in case.” Robb walked toward the trees. He heard who he presumed was Edwyle stand up and start to follow. 

The trees Robb and Raya had been in cast dark shadows over the area. The wind was still the only real noise Robb heard besides the ones they were making. Edwyle was pretty far behind him, since Robb was walking pretty fast. 

The smell of blood was blown into his face by the wind, giving him pause. The hares hadn’t smelled before. 

He pulled out his axe and kept walking. His eyes searched the shadows. Something felt wrong. Edwyle called his name, but Robb said nothing. 

He was almost at the tree line when he saw it. It had torn the hares to pieces, and the blood now dripped from its jaws. 

Robb stopped walking. He heard Edwyle call for Raya, but he obviously hadn’t seen the cat yet or else he would be running. 

The shadowcat lifted its head and made eye contact with Robb. 

He’d heard stories but never seen one in real life. It was big, with the black fur and light stripes that had made it impossible to see in the shadows. Its eyes seemed to glow like a pair of torches. Blood dripped from its large curved teeth. 

Shadowcats wouldn’t attack a group, but Edwyle was still nearer to the buck than he was to him, and Robb had no doubt the cat would kill him before then. 

He couldn’t tell if he was breathing anymore. The world went quiet. He switched his axe to a two handed grip, never breaking eye contact with the cat. He didn’t bother to try to adjust his feet, he would either hit the cat or he wouldn’t. Adjusting his feet would only waste time. His arms went up and over his head. 

He didn’t know if Edwyle saw the cat before it screamed, but there was no way he didn’t hear it. 

Robb brought his hands down as hard as he could and let the axe fly.

******

Edwyle did have to carry the buck back to the Harclay’s castle. Robb was the only one that didn’t have anything.

It took both Raya and Johan to carry the shadowcat. It was probably twice as large as Robb was. 

Edwyle had been grabbing Robb as the axe made contact with the cat’s head. The old guard must have been closer than Robb thought. Didn’t matter though since Robb made his best throw of the day. 

Somehow he had thrown it hard enough to actually kill the cat. Raya said he had managed to hit a good spot near the eye. 

Robb was pulled behind Edwyle as Raya had reached them. That was where Johan had found them when he came running into the clearing, having also heard the scream of the cat. 

They had gathered up their hunts quickly. All three had congratulated Robb on his kill, but he could tell that they were shaken. Robb couldn’t hide he was too. His hands were shaking as he retrieved his axe. 

Johan hadn’t found the doe by the time he had come running back. Nobody cared though, since they would have had a hard time getting it back anyway. 

Edwyle wouldn’t let Robb more than arms distance from him, even if he couldn’t grab him while holding the buck. The walk back was far quieter than it had been on the way out into the woods.

It was snowing by the time they got back. Large fluffy flakes of snow that glowed in the light of the bonfires like sparks even though it wasn’t fully night yet. 

The bodies of the animals were set down. Some guards ran off to find Robb’s father, their mouths had dropped open at the sight of the huge shadowcat. 

Robb felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Raya. She looked a bit tense around the eyes and so did her smile as she looked down at him.

“Guess the tree was good practice little wolf.”

Chapter Text

“Robb!” His father yelled as he was walking towards them. Ser Cassel and the Harclay were with him, as well as some other guards and clansmen. 

Raya’s hand squeezed his shoulder then fell away. Robb knew she was nervous. So were Johan and Edwyle. He had almost been eaten by a shadowcat while under their supervision. 

His father reached them quickly, looking confused at the subdued nature of the group. His eyes kept flicking between Robb and the shadowcat. 

“When I sent my son with you, it was under the impression that this would be an easy hunting trip.” His father wasn’t mad yet, but he was very clearly in the way there.

“Edwyle, whose face was still red from carrying the buck, took a knee before the Lord of Winterfell.

“It is my fault my Lord, the young lord got ahead of me and encountered the beast.”

Raya came forward and took a knee as well. “It was my fault, The Ned. We were watching over a clearing to hunt deer, and I dropped some hares coming down from the tree. The boy went to grab them and found the shadowcat.”

His father turned to Johan, “And where were you?” 

Johan knelt next to Edwyle. “I was going after a doe I injured. I came back as fast as I could once I heard the cat scream.”

Robb looked up at his father, who seemed confused now. It was The Harclay that spoke next though.

“Which one of you killed it then?” The leader of the clan was now standing next to Robb’s father. His question was directed at the people kneeling, but Robb answered before any of them could. 

“I did.” His father audibly choked at Robb’s voice. All of the new arrivals turned to look at him with varying levels of shock. 

He blinked the snow out of his eyelashes. Everyone continued to stare at him, until he began to shift uncomfortably.

“You what?!” One of the other Winterfell guards exclaimed from behind Ser Cassel. 

“I was the one that killed it.” Since no one seemed inclined to interrupt him, Robb kept talking.

“Johan and Edwyle gave me a lesson on axe throwing while Raya was checking her traps by the creek. Then we went to a clearing and climbed up into the trees so that Raya and Johan would have better shots. Raya got the buck and Johan hit the doe, but the doe ran off before it died.” He paused for a breath, everyone was still staring at him. “So Johan went off after the doe while the rest of us stayed with the buck. Raya realized she dropped her hares so I went to check by the trees we were in. Edwyle followed me. I saw the shadowcat first, so I threw my axe right as it screamed. Edwyle pulled me behind him before it hit it though, which kinda sucked.”

Robb was slightly out of breath when he finished. He’d told the story, lacking any real detail, but those could be told later. 

“Is this true?” His father asked. The three people kneeling nodded. 

“I will speak to each of you individually after tonight's feast, bring both of those in. You may rise.” He gestured for them to get up, which they did. Both of the clansmen were looking at the Harclay, who also nodded. 

“Robb,” Robb turned to his father who extended a hand out to him. “Why don’t you give me the more detailed story while we eat.” 

Robb took his father’s hand, which gripped his own tight. He was led through the group of people toward the hall of the castle. 

“Since I killed it, does this mean I get a shadowskin cloak?”

******

The hall was quieter than he expected when they entered, but the noise level quickly rose once they were seated again. The food and music were as good as the night before, but unlike the night before, no blades were drawn for fights. 

His father had finished his drink before he asked what had happened. Robb told the story again, this time with the missing details that he had left out before – not that those changed the story much. All of the other people at the table seemed to be waiting for his father to speak.

“Well it seems like you have developed a habit of finding trouble on this journey.” Robb normally saw his father pinch the bridge of his nose that way when Arya and Sansa had one of their bigger fights. 

“Pretty impressive though, killing a shadowcat with an axe on your first day using it.” Black Beard pointed his leg of meat at Robb. “I sure wouldn’t wanna fight the little wolf after he has had a couple of years to learn how to use it.”

This was met with words of agreement and smiles. But Robb could see them glancing at him. The youngest Harclay, Tom, was almost outright gawking. 

Ser Cassel spoke up. “That is a discussion for the yard. But I believe you may be right, goodman.” 

Robb’s face heated at the complement. He didn’t believe that the lessons from Ser Cassel would be as easy as throwing an axe at a tree. They never were. And he didn’t think it would mean less sword training either.

“Reminds me of the wild wolf, when he visited with The Rickard. I recall The Rickard was also fond of mead on that visit.” The Harclay said as he clapped Ned on the shoulder. Robb’s father drank as much as anyone else, but not as much when he was visiting his bannermen. That was not the case tonight. He was definitely drinking more than normal.

“My father and I just recognized the quality of the drink you provide.” Ned said. Robb felt himself relax a bit when another round of laughter from the table sparked a smile from his father.

******

There were no giant bonfires this time of night, and the clouds still obscured the stars. The fallen snow had collected on the ground up to Robb’s ankles. His father had left to speak to Raya, Johan, and Edwyle. Since he was no longer feeling hungry, Robb had asked to come outside with Ser Cassel when he went to speak with the guards. 

The cold air felt good after the heat of the hall. Most of the guards were in the same place, five of them at the foot of one of the watch towers built next to the wall. The conversation hadn’t been interesting, or been of any importance to Robb, so he told Ser Cassel he was going to visit Avalon in the stable. The Master-at-Arms agreed, on the condition he went nowhere else. The horse seemed fine, all of them had been given thin blankets, likely at the insistence of the Harclays. Robb had pet his neck for a while, before wanting to be outside again. He had not told Ser Cassel about climbing on the roof, but he was visible enough so it would probably be fine. 

It was slightly colder on the roof of the stable, and he was more exposed to the wind. The snow was falling steadily, but not so much that it obscured his vision. He could see some people leaving the hall, more of them were stumbling than walking. Those that didn’t live in the castle had homes outside the walls, some would leave, but most would sleep into the other halls built into the side of the castle. They were for when the holding was under attack and for shelter during winter. They were connected to the castle, and vast in their own right, with both private and public spaces, as well as hearths and kitchens. 

“Climbing rooftops during a summer snow doesn’t seem like the smartest plan, little wolf.” Someone spoke below him. When Robb looked, he saw The Harclay standing there, looking up at him with a smile. 

“I won’t fall.”

“Didn’t think you would. But your father might not be too happy to see you up there.”

Robb winced. His father certainly wasn’t as angry as he was after Robb fought the wildings, but if he was found on the roof that might change. Robb was good at climbing, they did it all the time at winterfell, and at this height a fall wouldn’t be too bad. 

Bran never thought he would fall either.

Robb let himself slide down the roof until his toes dangled over the edge. The Harclay is alone. His cheeks were flushed from cold or mead, and Robb could see the snow on his cloak. The snow wasn’t visible on his beard, but his smile was visible through it. 

“My siblings and I like to climb the walls of winterfell, my mother takes issue with it, not my father.” The Harclay’s responding laugh seemed to boom across the snow, reminding Robb of the Greatjon again. 

“Fair enough.” Robb had nothing to say to that, so he just stared down at the clan leader.

“I wanted to express my gratitude towards your actions earlier.” The Harclay was still smiling, but it was softer now. Robb’s eyes widened slightly. Thank him for what?

“I do not recall doing anything worthy of your thanks.” Robb could feel snow melting on his cheeks. 

“When you came back from your hunt earlier, you told your father that they were doing their best to look after you. You spoke as if that was more important than the shadowcat. Had you not done that, nothing I could have said would have saved them from being reprimanded.” The Harclay wasn’t smiling now, but he didn’t look angry either. His eyes bored into Robb’s as if looking for something. “Most boys would be running about yelling how they killed a shadowcat, at your age I would have been.”

Robb shrugged, His ears now warm in addition to his face. “I only told the truth. If Johan and Edwyle had not given me the lesson then I would not have been the one to kill it. And they were all very diligent when keeping an eye on me.”

Robb couldn’t see The Harclay’s expression when the wind blew his hair into his face. By the time he fixed it, The Harclay was grinning ear to ear again. 

“Sounds like something The Ned would say. But my thanks is deserved, little wolf, whether or not you believe it.”

Robb bowed his head. “I accept your thanks, The Harclay, if you are inclined to give it.” 

“If you ever need anything, little wolf, just ask.” 

Robb was about to say he didn’t need anything, when an idea struck him.

“Actually if you have a moment, I have a question.” The Harclay looked confused, but didn’t say anything as Robb dropped his legs off the edge of the stable roof. He jumped, and landed in a crouch next to the Harclay. He stood and pulled out his knife.

“Johan gave me this knife after I killed those wildings. He said it was a part of a tradition you have?”

The Harclay looked more serious now, nodding and looking at the knife.

“The wildings you fought were a group exiled from the Thenns. They wouldn’t tell us why, even the one that is still alive.” Robb shivered involuntarily, remembering the desperation that had colored their entire appearance. “They don’t usually come this far south, but we don’t have answers for that either.” He reached for the knife, and Robb handed him the hilt. The large man studied it before looking at Robb again.

“We take something from our first battle that ends in death because we believe that if you do not, a piece of the dead’s soul will follow you instead.” The Harclay chuckled, but it was nothing like his normal laugh, more breathy and stilted. “A more practical reason is so that you don’t forget the weight of killing another man.” He flipped the knife in the air. “Weapons are most common because they are the most practical.” Before he could hand the knife back, Robb asked another question that had been weighing on his mind.

“Do you know what the rune on the hilt means?”

The Harclay looked at the knife again, and his brows furrowed. He brought the knife closer to his face, and looked closer at the rune.

“I’m no expert on runes of the first men, little wolf, but I don’t recognize this one. If it is known, then the maester of Winterfell is a better man to ask.” He flipped the knife again and extended the hilt to Robb.

“Thank you anyway.” Robb said, putting the knife back on his belt. The snow swirled around them as they stared at one another.

“Lord Robb!” Ser Cassel yelled over the wind. The Harclay moved out of the way, and Robb saw his father and Ser Cassel walking towards them. The Harclay bowed, before stepping back so Robb could get to his father.

“You are covered in snow.” Ned said, brushing snow off Robb’s cloak. It came off in small clouds that blew away in the wind. 

“I don’t mind.” Robb said, looking over at the Harclay. “It’s nicer out here than in the stable.” 

His father ruffled Robb’s hair and then turned to the Harclay. “All of their stories matched up. Seems like just a bit of bad luck.” He said. 

“I’m glad to hear that. The little wolf and I were just talking about that.” The Harclay was smiling again, and Robb could hear the relief in his voice. 

“I had a great time.” He looked up at his father. “Can I have a shadowskin cloak? And Jon can have some of the claws. He would like those.” 

Ned laughed. “Yes Robb you can have a shadowskin cloak. You killed it, you decide what is done with it.” He shook his head. “I’m sure your brother would love one of the claws.” 

Robb was delighted. Now he only needed to find things for his other siblings. Bran and Rickon would like the claws, but he wanted to try and get them all something unique. 

“I think it is time for us to retire for the night.”  Robb felt his father’s hand on his back, gently nudging him forward.

“I enjoyed speaking with you, The Harclay.” Robb inclined his head, and was surprised when The Harclay bowed fully.

“Thank you for speaking with me, little wolf. I wish you a comfortable rest.” He said, before repeating something similar to Robb’s father. 

Robb blinked the snow out of his eyelashes, his thumb running back and forth over the rune on the knife.

Chapter Text

The Stark boy was not what Johan had expected. He’d expected a young boy with the usual interest in swords and a pair of Stark grey eyes. Instead he’s found a boy with fresh blood on his sword. 

The little wolf did not look like his father at first glance. He was going to be more broad in the shoulder than The Ned, and likely not as tall. His hair a noticeable rich red-brown that curled at the ends rather than dull brown like his father. His eyes were nothing like his father’s at first glance. But Johan knew they were Stark eyes. They were cold. It was easier to see in the Stark-grey eyes, but the little wolf was just like his father in that regard. The little wolf’s blue eyes were chips of ice after he had killed the shadowcat.

He reminded many of the wild wolf, which was a fair comparison. But where Brandon Stark ran towards trouble, Robb Stark seemed to encounter it instead. It was his ability to meet it head on that made him as fierce as the symbol of the house. It was Johan’s opinion that he had a fair amount of wolf blood.

After the little wolf killed the shadowcat, even some of the guards of winterfell began to call him by that name. Robb did not seem to mind. 

The Winterfell group stayed a few more days. The boy had not joined another hunting trip, but he had gotten plenty of new lessons with the axe. Johan had given him a few himself, finding the boy to be a surprisingly quick study. He’d wanted to try to use a larger one to start learning to fight with it, but Ser Cassel had decided that he would remain using the smaller axe until he said otherwise. The little wolf was clearly disappointed, but didn’t dwell on it. Many times when Johan was spending time with the little wolf, he was struck by how often he did not act like a boy of eleven.

The final night of their visit had a feast bigger than the welcome feast. The little wolf ran from table to table, and spent hours joining in the dancing. More than once, Johan saw him given food to the mutts laying beneath the tables. It was a much more jovial feast than the previous nights, when the festivities had been limited to with the hall.

Johan volunteered to be an escort for the group to the holding of the Wull’s. It was not a far, or difficult journey, but The Harclay insisted. The journey there was luckily free of any trouble. The Ned had the little wolf stay close by him the entirety of the trip. Robb still rode that horse that was far too large for him, but after watching it around the stablehands, it seemed like the boy was the only one with any real chance of riding it. Johan heard from one of the stablehands that it had always been a temperamental horse, but since the little wolf started riding it, the beast only seemed to like him. 

They said goodbye to the winterfell group the early morning hours. The sky was a cloudy haze colored bright by the sun. Johan helped the little wolf mount his horse. Not that he needed the help, but it gave him a chance to say a more private goodbye.

“Good riding little wolf. The next time I see you, I doubt you’ll be so little.” Johan patted the boys leg. “Don’t forget what I told you about that knife. Even if you are like the axe more.”

******

His son was going to send him to an early grave. Robb spent his time at the Wulls training with his new axe and spending time with the clansmen. Ned had thought that the trouble his son would encounter on the trip would be limited to the visit with the Harclays but apparently it was going to follow them the entirety of the trip. Robb had been found in the early hours of the morning on the roof of The Wull’s castle. If it had been on of the Winterfell guards they would have just told him to come down, but instead he had accidentally scared a laundrywoman. She had screamed loud enough to wake half the castle. After that incident he had banned Robb from climbing without telling someone before hand.

The Wulls were having no more issue with the wildings than normal, and did not believe the group that had reached the Harclays came through their lands. Although they did have a other issues that he had to deal with — but nothing serious. They had also talked to calling Robb ‘little wolf’, after hearing about his exploits at the Harclays. They also got their own story to tell when Robb agreed to fight one of the clan boys older than him, closer to adulthood. Robb beat him with his sword but lost when he tried to fight with just his axe. During the third round the clan boy got annoyed and decided to tackle Robb. Before anyone could pull him off, Robb bit the boy - hard enough to draw blood. The clansmen found that very funny. The boy was punished severely, but he did seem genuinely remorseful for getting to rough. Robb apologized for biting him, but did not seem very apologetic. Ned was beginning to think his son might be just as wild as Brandon. 

The visit at the Knotts was far less exiting. Robb came back from a hunting trip with both a red fox pelt, and an snow fox pelt, which he planned to gift to his sisters. That made Ned smile, his son’s kindness was something he hope Robb never lost. His did wish his son would stop doing things he wasn’t supposed to in the middle of the night. On multiple occasions, he was found practice with his weapons before anyone else was awake. The night guards would keep an eye on him, but Ned told them not to stop him. While he didn’t like his son’s new habit, it wasn’t hurting anyone. That could be a discussion for when they were back at Winterfell, since Cat would most definitely be concerned.

Their visits to the First Flints, Liddles, and Burleys were similar. Although when Robb decided to climb the Burleys’ castle, the kids his age invited him to join them racing up a cliff side. The Burley assured Ned that this was a common pastime for the kids, and it was good for Robb to spend time with kids his age when on these trips. 

It was the visit to the Norreys that made Ned glad that he was not visiting every clan on this trip.

Chapter Text

Robb knew that something was watching him from the woods. It had started after they left the Burley clan. At first it was just a feeling, nothing to worry anyone about. But as they reached the Norrey clan it got worse. Sometimes Robb swore that he saw yellow eyes watching him from the woods. It got to the point that he was starting to dream about them.

He didn’t feel threatened, more uncomfortable than anything else. The bigger problem was if he was going to try to find it or avoid it until it was no longer a problem. 

It was probably just some sort of animal. It hadn’t spooked any of the horses, which meant it was smart enough to avoid detection, but also hadn’t attacked anything. Since they reached the Norrey holding, it would definitely stay away.

The Norrey’s holding was very different than the Harclay’s and the clans that lived in the high places. It was most like a traditional castle, but also very small. The main hall and the towers were made out of stone, but many of the other areas were would structures. The majority of the town was within the walls of the holding, including most of the farm land. The walls surrounding the place were not very tall, but they did span a large area. Robb liked it. 

The Norrey was younger than Robb’s father, having recently inherited the position. He was a quiet man, and rather tall. At both of the feasts so far he had fought someone, and won. It was the only time Robb saw him smile. It did make him look somewhat insane. The Norrey was nice enough though, inviting Robb to join the hunting trip that he invited Ned on. 

It was The Norrey’s younger brother that Robb was getting along better with. He was almost an adult, and already taller than his brother. He took after his brother in looks, but had an easy smile and a quick tongue. His name was Arne, and he seemed to like Robb from the start. 

Robb had liked climbing with the kids from the Burley clan, but he felt more comfortable with the older boy. Especially after their conversation during the first feast.

******

Fat Tom was currently having a drinking contest with a clansman, and Robb couldn’t tell who was winning. Both were already very red in the face, and leaning on the table. Although they had drunk quite a lot, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

The Winterfell group had arrived at the Norrey’s just before the feast, and already Robb could feel clansmen looking at him as the stories from the trip were passed around. It was worse with the kids. Robb remembered in his first life they had been wary around him because he was heir to Winterfell, but now it was worse. It took days for them to warm up to him, and even then they treated him like he wasn’t their age.

“Those two look like they are going to fall over any minute.” A voice said from behind Robb, he turned and saw an older boy, with long blond hair and brown eyes. He was grinning as he hopped onto the bench next to Robb.

“I’m Arne, the Norrey is my older brother in case you couldn’t see the family resemblance.” His smile was crooked, enough to make one eye squint slightly. The claim made sense to Robb, since the blond hair and height marked them as kin.

“Fat Tom won’t fall over, at least not until after he starts singing. He usually gets one or two songs out first.” Robb said. It happened at almost every feast at Winterfell. It would be nearing the end of the feast when everyone would suddenly hear Fat Tom’s deep voice rising above the loud noise of the crowd. By the end most of the hall would join in. Then Fat Tom would fall over and have to be carried out. 

Arne snorted, turning back to his food. “Any predictions on the song?” He asked. 

Now Robb was smiling. “He’s partial to the Drunk Knight.” It was an easy conversation. Arne didn’t stare at Robb which was a nice change. Since they had gotten to the Norreys’ holding Robb had felt the number of eyes on him steadily increasing as the groups mingled. 

“Damn, I hoped I was gonna get to hear a new one.” Arne finally looked fully at Robb. His eyes searched Robb’s face. For what he didn’t know, but Robb was used to it at this point. 

“Is there a reason you were sitting over here, or did you just need a better view of the drinking contests?” Arne asked. 

Robb shrugged. He hadn’t moved over here for any particular reason, he had just gotten tired of the weird looks from some of the other clansmen at the head table. His father didn’t mind, since they had finished the main portion of the feast, so Robb leaving the table wasn’t an issue. Over here he was surrounded mostly by Winterfell guards, so at least he was used to them. 

Robb was used to people staring at him from when he was king. It hadn’t bothered him until the trip to the Norreys. The sensation of being watched had unnerved him. 

“The staring should lessen soon, it’s just unusual to hear about an heir of Winterfell that likes to bite people.” 

Robb’s head whipped towards the taller boy. “I don’t like to bite people! It happened once!” 

He had panicked when the boy tackled him. All of a sudden the boy was wearing red and gold. He came back to his senses when the taste of iron hit his tongue, but luckily it had been swept up into the rest of the stories now surrounding him. 

Arne looked pleased with himself. “Certainly living up to your name though, little wolf. Next I’ll hear that you're running through the woods killing shadowcats with your bare hands rather than an axe.”

“I’m not a wild animal.” Robb said, his face growing warm. Fat Tom was slouching further over the table now. His eyes looked almost glazed over.

Arne’s grin took on a conspiratorial look. “Why not? A wolf is scarier than a dog isn’t it?” 

“I -“ Robb began, not knowing what he was going to say, but before he figured it out he was interrupted. 

“HE DRANK A BARREL OF MEAD ON THE ROOFTOP—“

And off went Fat Tom. 

******

In retrospect, Robb appreciated Arne making fun of him like any other kid. At the time however he had been annoyed. Ser Cassel had come over to get someone to take Fat Tom to the sleeping quarters before he passed out, so Robb had used him to make a polite getaway. He spent the rest of the night near his father, listening to his conversations and watching the dancers.

In the morning, after Ser Cassel ended Robb’s training to get some things done, Robb decided to seek out Arne. He found him sharpening his axe by the hearth. Robb sat on the bench next to him and watched. 

“You enjoying your morning little wolf?” Arne asked, not looking up from the stone as he ran it over the blade. 

“I did. Ser Cassel and I were training in the yard. And I checked on Avalon in the stables. He’s my -“

“Your horse. The one you protected from the wildings.” Arne interrupted Robb. Now he was looking at Robb. Not studying his face like he did the night before, but still curious. His broad smile made it less uncomfortable. 

“Yes he is. My father hasn’t told me he’s mine, just that I’m riding him on this trip. But he is a wonderful horse, so I do hope that he is.” Robb rubbed his thumb over the rune on his knife absentmindedly. 

Arne nodded in understanding. “He is a nice horse, can see why some wildings would want him.” 

Robb’s thumb stilled. “I think they would have taken anything at that point. Didn’t seem all that particular.” Robb smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. “Don’t particularly want to encounter any of them again.”

Arne laughed, and nodded. “Give it a few years little wolf, the wildings will be running at the sight of you.” He put the sharpening stone down and hefted the axe closer to his face. “Maybe you can bite them too.”

Robb looked at him. He had been called a wolf during the war, many times in fact. He vividly remembered rejecting the title during a conversation with his mother. It had felt like people were making him more than human, an idol to follow rather than a king. It had never sat right with him. 

Now though, the name didn’t seem to have the same meaning. It wasn’t said with reverence, but rather with respect. And from the Winterfell guards it was said with pride. It was probably why other kids his age made him more uncomfortable, because there was a bit of that reverence when they spoke to him. 

With Arne it was different. It felt like Arne was making fun of him. But it clearly wasn’t malicious. Robb didn’t want to think about who it reminded him of. 

“Biting doesn’t seem very efficient.” Robb eventually said. 

Arne looked at Robb for a moment, before he stood up and sheathed his axe. 

“Come on little wolf, I wanna show you something.” Arne said, as he began walking towards the front door. Robb hesitated a moment before following. 

He had to speed up to keep pace with Arne’s long stride. They left out the front door, but immediately went towards the side of the castle. They passed the stables and some other animal holdings. They kept walking, through some of the crops until they reached one of the small towers that stood guard over the wall. They were made of wood, easily climbable from the interior and easier to repair than stone. A guard was at the top, with a horn strapped to his side to sound the alarm if needed. 

Arne whistled, loud and shrill to get the guard’s attention. He did a half turn, presumably to see who it was. 

“Morning Arne! What are you doing out here?” The guard yelled down, still staying in that half turn. 

“The little wolf and I wanted to hang out on the wall for a bit. You mind?” Arne asked, putting a hand on Robb’s shoulder.

The guard gestured towards the ladder. “Come on up.” 

Arne walked towards the ladder, and Robb followed. The older boy stepped off to the side and gestured to the ladder. 

“You first.”

The wood of the ladder was smooth from use. The gaps in the ladder were clearly sized for adults, so he did have to stretch a bit, but it was still an easy climb. He reached the top quickly, and pulled himself onto the platform. Arne followed close behind. 

It wasn’t a tight fit, but that was only because Robb wasn’t an adult. He could barely see over the wall, since it came up to the guard’s chest. 

“Here you go little wolf.” The guard said, pulling over a stool for Robb to stand on. It was probably for guards to sit on, but it looked sturdy enough for Robb to use it to see over the wall. 

“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Don’t leave until I come back, Arne.” The guard jokingly wagged his finger at the older boy. Then gave a slight bow to Robb, Bo Efren he turned to descend the ladder. 

“I did that once, Oddvar!” Arne looked down at Robb. “You think he would trust me a little bit.” Robb smiled, and climbed onto the stool. 

“Well how long ago did you leave before he came back?”

Arne smiled back at him. “I’m going to choose to ignore that question.”

Robb finally turned his attention out from the wall. The view was amazing. The trees were dense but cut back from the wall so that it would be hard for wildings to get to the wall unseen. Robb could see the other guard towers clearly, and in the distance he could see the dense trees thin out into an open plain. 

“Nice view right?” Arne asked, also looking out over the landscape. “Can’t watch the sunrise or sunset from here, but sometimes I like to imagine I can see the Wall.”

“Have you ever been there?” Robb asked.

“No, the clan doesn’t tend to visit the Night’s Watch very often.”

Robb nodded, and the conversation lapsed into silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he could tell that Arne wanted to say something.

The wind blew, a sudden cold breeze that sent the branches of the trees moving wildly. For a moment the rustling was all Robb could hear. But the breeze dies, and the sounds of the rest of the world returned. 

“Why don’t you like being called a wolf?” Arne asked, in a serious voice.

Robb felt himself tense, not knowing how to respond. The truth was that he did like the name, but hated how people said it. It wasn’t like he could explain that though, after all, Robb hadn’t been to war yet according to everyone else. 

“I am honored that the clans liken me to the symbol of my house.” He sounded like he was speaking to a lord. Not a boy only a few years older than him.

“Well I don’t doubt that. I’m talking about last night. You got mad when I called you a wolf last night.” Arne said, his brows furrowed.

Now Robb was confused. “You seem to want me to go around biting people.”

Arne smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Cause it’s funny. And I believe it would scare people off.”

Robb only stared. Arne looked out over the forest. 

“Would it be so bad to be a wild animal? Especially a wolf?”

Robb didn’t even have to think about it. His issue was never with being called a wolf. It was being made into something he wasn’t. Someone above everyone else, someone to be revered. 

He thought of that when he answered, but it was gold eyes he saw in his mind as he spoke. 

“No, it wouldn’t be so bad.” Robb said.

The conversation moved to other topics, mainly to what Arne knew about using the axe he had. Robb didn’t remember all of it though, because for the rest of the conversation he could have sworn he felt someone watching him from within the trees. 

Chapter Text

Two mornings after Robb and Arne talked, the group left for a hunting trip. Robb was riding Avalon, since this would be a full day trip, and they meant to go a decent distance from the clan’s holding. His father, Ser Cassel, and a couple of the guards joined them on the hunting trip, and Robb was pleased to note that Edwyle was one of them. 

Robb was riding next to Arne and Ser Cassel, while his father and The Norrey rode in front of them, with the three Winterfell guards and three clansmen behind them. Robb had caught himself moving to the front more than once, earning a reprimanding look from Ser Cassel. 

The group was heading north, towards an area that Arne said people almost always came back from with some game. Robb normally wouldn’t have minded, in fact he would have been delighted, except the feeling of being watched got worse as they went further north. It was unsettling, and he felt himself watching the trees more than anything else. It was made worse by the dark sky, since the sun had not yet started to rise.

“Planning on killing more shadowcats, little wolf?” Arne’s voice said from his left. The tall boy was bent over his horse, leaning on its neck with his arms crossed. 

Robb dragged his eyes from the trees to the clansman, and said with a smile, “If this hunting spot is as good as you say, I might have a good chance of it.”

“I believe your lord father would prefer that you avoided finding more trouble on this trip my lord.” Ser Cassel said from Robb’s right. “And you, boy, need to stop trying to encourage it.” 

Arne only shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the reprimand. “Just a thought. It would be a shame if nothing interesting happened on this trip.”

Ser Cassel’s face was pinched in a way it only ever was when speaking to Theon, but somehow less resigned. It was not a good look. 

“Are you planning on killing anything, or are all your weapons just for show?” Robb asked Arne, looking pointedly at the multiple weapons he had strapped to him. 

The Norreys carried more weapons than most, always fearing attacks from wildings. While those who were the clan champions would have one or two weapons made of metal, most carried weapons made of stone and wood. They broke easier than steel, so they always carried extra. Even if the wildings didn’t tend to have quality weapons, it was better safe than sorry. Robb knew most of what Arne was wearing wasn’t for hunting, but if he and Ser Cassel kept talking, Robb would regret riding between them.

Arne sat up in the saddle. “I’ll have you know that I always come back with something. Can’t have my pretty face be the only thing I contribute to the clan.” He gestured to the spear strapped to his back. “Ask anybody. Whenever I come back, this has blood on it.” 

Ser Cassel’s sigh sounded defeated. 

“Poking yourself with a stick is nothing to be proud of, boy.” Ser Cassel said. 

Arne made a sound like a dying bird, drawing a round of laughter from Robb and the men riding behind them. Robb saw his father and The Norrey turn around to look at the rest of the group. 

Robb laughed again at Arne’s red tinged cheeks at his brother’s glower.

******

It took them longer than Robb expected to reach the clearing. The woods around it were dense, the path they entered on the only place the horses could pass through the trees. There was still snow, despite there not being a summer snow for many days. It was clinging to branches and piled in the shade. The woods were as unsettling as they had been on the road.  The wind rustled the trees, the clearing seemed untouched by people, except for the path leading into the clearing. 

Robb didn’t have to ask why they were stopping, as he watched one of the clansmen start to dismount. 

“We stop here with the horses. The clearing makes it easier for less people to watch them, and frees up their hands in case there is trouble.” The Norrey said to Ned, loud enough that Robb could overhear. Robb went to climb off Avalon, who seemed happy to stop. He threw his leg over the saddle so he was on one side of the horse, when he felt hands around his hips. The next thing he knew he was being deposited on the ground by his father, who had come over to speak to Ser Cassel. 

“Tell Edwyle to stay with the horses, and Mirk to go with one of the clansmen to the east. You, I, and Robb will go with The Norrey.” Robb’s father said, his hands resting heavy on Robb’s shoulders. 

Ser Cassel gave a quick bow and walked off towards the winterfell guards, who were also dismounting from their horses. Robb watched Ser Cassel walking over, until his vision was blocked by his father crouching down in front of him. 

“You will stay by Ser Cassel or I. No running off. I don’t want any problems on this trip. Am I understood?" The words were harsh, but his father didn’t look angry, only serious in the way he always did when giving orders. Still, Robb’s stomach twisted a little bit. He nodded silently, not really knowing what to say.

Luckily that seemed an adequate response, since his father stood. 

“Take care of your horse, then get ready to go. Since we aren’t spending the night out here, I would like to be back before dark.” He said, before walking over to The Norrey and his own horse. 

Robb tightened his grip on Avalon’s reigns. The hair on his arms rose at the idea of being out in the woods when the sun went down. Even with the sun slowly emerging from the horizon, Robb was still uneasy. 

He wasn’t scared of the woods, in fact, he actually loved the woods. What he didn’t love was the feeling he was being watched. And he knew that it wasn’t in his head, Robb was sure of it. He had spent too much time having to look over his own shoulder. If he had Grey Wind, then he would be able to tell where he was being watched from, and would have someone watching his back for him. But his friend was gone. He had to watch out for himself.

The snow crunched under Robb’s feet as he made his way over to Edwyle.

“Which tree should I tie Avalon to?” Robb asked the guard, who had just finished tying up his own horse.

“I can take him, my lord. He’ll be next to your father’s.” Robb tried to smile at the old man, but his eyes went from one horse to the other, despite how he inclined his head towards Robb.

“It is unfortunate that you have to remain with the horses, it would have been nice to receive another lesson about how to use my axe.” Robb said as he followed Edwyle. The guard barely glanced at him. 

“I’m sure someone else can help you if you would like.” They were by his father’s horse now, and Edwyle still wasn't looking at Robb. 

Robb shrugged, “Maybe, but I liked the lesson from you.”

Edwyle’s shoulders slumped slightly. Robb could see the slight shake in his hands as he tied Avalon to the tree. “Go over to your father, my lord. He’s waiting.” Robb opened his mouth to say something back, but the old guard was already walking away. 

As much as Robb would have liked to follow Edwyle, the guard was right about Robb’s father waiting for him. He quickly rubbed behind Avalon’s ears before running over. 

Arne had his spear unstrapped from his back, while Ser Cassel still had his sword sheathed. He never really hunted when Robb was with them, just kept an eye on him. Robb came to a stop next to them and pulled out his axe.

The wind picked up for a moment and Robb had to suppress a shiver, he felt as if cold hands had touched the back of his neck.  He was the only one that seemed to notice.

******

The Norrey and Robb’s father had also pulled out spears, and had been leading them through the woods for hours. Small animals ran through the trees in abundance this far from the Norrey clan holding, but they would wait until they started heading back to hunt for those. Ser Cassel hadn’t gotten more than a few feet from Robb since they left the clearing. 

Robb would have been offended if he wasn’t glad for the reassurance of the old knight. Whoever was watching was close, but still no one else noticed. That was almost more unnerving. 

The woods were silent except for the usual noises of the forest. None in the group would speak at the risk of scaring something off. 

Robb saw the Norrey get Ned’s attention before gesturing off to the right. Robb couldn’t see anything, but for all he knew they were following some arbitrary path.  They turned off in that direction, expecting the group to follow. Arne was suddenly next to Robb, his steps light on the forest floor. 

Arne was only next to him for a moment, before the trees narrowed and he had to fall behind again. Now Robb was staring at his father’s back, with snow melting on his cloak. Glanced back again, his grey eyes meeting Robb’s for a moment. He smiled, before turning forward again to duck around a tree. Robb moved to do the same as his father vanished from view for a moment. 

When Robb turned around the tree he didn’t see his father. 

Golden eyes with slitted pupils met his, and the world tilted sideways.

******

Robb landed on his back, staring up into branches covered with red leaves. He shot up, his axe already in his hand. But he did it too fast, and his head spun. He slipped back again, catching himself on the tree. 

His breath was coming fast and hard, his entire body shaking. He barely registered that his axe had slipped from his hand. He looked around, recognizing nothing. The woods looked the same at least.

“So you are the boy chosen by the gods.” An airy voice said from Robb’s right. He whipped his head in that direction, the shock briefly causing his breath to catch in his throat. 

The same gold eyes with a slitted pupil were the first thing he saw. And he was glad for the support of the tree when he realized what he was looking at. 

One of the children of the forest. 

They were about Robb’s height, with dark brown skin dappled like a dear. Their limbs were slightly longer than would be expected for the size of its torso. Its hands had only three fingers, whipped with black claws. Dark green hair streaked with strikingly lighter shades was a mess of tangles around its head. The cloak they wore was made of leaves. Their eyes were wide set, and the smile might have been meant to be comforting, but the needle point teeth negated that. Robb couldn’t identify if they were a man or woman, but he didn’t even know if the Children of the Forest were either. It was Old Nan’s stories brought to life.

“There is no need to be afraid, Robb Stark, we do not interfere with the will of the gods.” The child of the forest said again, head tilting to the side. It must have been them that brought him to what Robb now recognized as a weirwood tree. The only question was why. 

“As comforting as that is, I feel I am at a disadvantage, since you obviously know my name, but I do not know yours.” Robb said. He hoped his voice sounded more sure than he felt. 

They stepped forward, and it took all Robb’s will power not to shrink back. 

“You may call me Moss, since my true name cannot be spoken by the Andals or the First Men.” Moss stared at Robb, his golden eyes unblinking. “Now that I have answered, would you answer some questions in return?” It was asked like a question, but it didn’t seem like one. That was made even more clear when Moss didn’t wait for a response.

“Have you spoken to the gods?” The smile was gone from Moss’s face, but it was more a look of intense curiosity than anything. That didn’t make Robb feel any safer. His own curiosity was piqued. Why would Moss want to know about the gods? Robb’ lip caught between his teeth as he thought of what to say. He knew he had to be honest, but he also couldn’t tell them everything, the gods had brought others back. And even if The Children of the Forest would likely believe his story, telling them may not be in his best interests.

“No, I spoke only to the dead, not the gods.” His voice cracked, at the end. A tick of childish fear. 

The golden eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that there was no reaction from Moss.

The woods were silent around them. Robb didn’t know if that was new, or if he had only noticed now. It was unnerving, but also brought clarity.

“Were you the one watching me from the woods?” Robb asked, even if he already knew the answer.

“We watched to find answers, but watching did not reveal enough truth.” Now Robb could feel some animosity from Moss, who felt closer even though he had not seen them take any steps. The Child of the Forest clearly did not want to be questioned.

“How have you been honored by the gods?” Moss was now close enough that Robb could see the lighter parts of their hair were actually moss threaded into it. 

“They blessed me with a second chance at life.” Robb said quickly, not mentioning any details. 

Moss clearly wanted certain information, meaning it was also Robb’s only leverage. Possibly his only way of getting back to his father. His axe was on the ground and out of reach, and he did not believe that he could pull out a knife or his sword before Moss could attack. Not considering that they would do nothing against magic.

Thankfully Moss had stopped moving closer, but their face was now blank.

“Why did the gods give you such a blessing?”

“Why do you need to know?” Robb asked instead of answering, while also pressing himself further back against the tree.

Moss' eyes opened wide, but they said nothing. Silence hung heavy between them, not even the leaves moved in the trees. 

“Why did the gods give you a second chance at life?” Their voice was no longer light and airy. Now the best description was like branches scraping on stone.

“A question for a question. Answer mine first.” Robb said, the bark of the weirwood tree scraping against his palms.

“The Raven cannot see where your life leads.” Moss stared, his eyes never leaving Robb’s. 

That made no sense, what was The Raven? It was clearly something important, but not something he had ever heard of.

“A question for a question, Robb Stark.” Moss said, still unmoving. 

“Because of a promise made a long time ago, to a different Stark.” Robb’s mouth was dry, but he managed to square his shoulders and hold the gaze of the ancient being in front of him. 

“What promise?” Moss asked, the smile once again on their face. Robb shook his head. He could position his body to fake confidence, but the second he spoke the illusion would shatter.

He didn’t like how fast the Child of the Forest’s demeanor had changed when he heard about a promise, even without hearing the details.

Moss leaned forward, his sharp teeth gleaming in the sun. The second his foot made contact with the weirwood tree’s roots — the branches started shaking. 

The once silent forest was filled with the sound of rustling leaves and clattering branches. The wind rose to a mournful howl. 

Moss was staring wide eyed at the tree, above Robb’s head. When Robb looked, he saw the face was leaking fresh red tears. It was an effort to remind himself it was only sap leaking from the eyes. 

A growl came from Robb’s left, so loud it echoed through the trees. Moss turned first, backing away when he saw whatever it was that made that sound. Robb turned and followed their gaze. 

A direwolf was emerging from the trees. 

It was bigger than Grey Wind had gotten, but its fur was as dark as Shaggydog’s. Its eyes looked like Grey Wind’s. 

The direwolf stalked across towards them. It was no longer growling, but it towered over both Robb and Moss, which was intimidating enough.

The beast came to a stop next to Robb. It turned to him, its breath lifting Robb’s hair from his forehead. He didn’t realize how cold he was until the warm breath hit his face.

He heard Moss’s cloak swish as they moved back. Saying nothing, the Child of the Forest stepped back towards the trees.

“I wish you luck, Robb Stark. We will speak to you again if the gods permit.” Moss said, before vanishing into the trees.

Robb was now lost in the woods with a fully grown direwolf.

Chapter Text

The second the branches stopped swaying in the wake of Moss’s departure, Robb felt some of the tension leave his body. Despite Moss claiming that they meant him no harm, they were an off putting presence, and the kidnapping was another point against them. Robb knew that magic existed, he knew the old gods existed, but he always figured that if he were to ever see a child of the forest, it would be on a visit to the lands north of the wall. 

Robb was still staring at the place Moss stood when he felt a tug on his sleeve. The direwolf had grabbed his sleeve and was tugging gently. It let go quickly when it realized that it had Robb’s attention. In the back of his mind, he noted the holes now present on his sleeve.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Robb wanted to trust the direwolf. He had never mistrusted a direwolf, that being said the few he did know were introduced to him as pups. He also had no idea where this one came from, or if it was solely a direwolf. 

With the direwolf on the ground, Robb could now better examine the beast. Its hair was black, broken up only by some grey on its muzzle. Scars crisscrossed along its snout, and there was a chunk missing from its left ear. The only similarity it bore to Greywind was the color of the eyes, a bright molten gold. They were intelligent, but in the bright awareness of a direwolf, not a man.

A loud bark from the wolf startled Robb. He forced himself to stay still when the massive head of the wolf leaned toward him. Even laying down, came up to his chest.

It tugged his sleeve again. It didn’t let go this time, and pulled Robb toward him. He followed, not wanting his shirt to tear, or to anger the beast - even if he wanted to trust it. It almost dragged him forward, maneuvering him until he was standing at its side. 

It wanted Robb to ride on its back. 

Rickon was the only one of them to have ever ridden their direwolf. His youngest brother had spent most of his time crying after their mother had left, and he was worse if Robb left him. Maester Luwin told him repeatedly to leave Rickon with someone so he could run the house, but that hadn’t gone well the one time he had tried it. Instead, Robb had tried to calm him by placing him on Shaggydog’s back and walking them next to him while going about his duties. The guards had always found it entertaining, and it also kept Shaggydog from causing trouble. 

As for the rest of them, he and Jon had been too large, Sansa had refused because it wouldn’t be ‘ladylike’, and Bran couldn’t balance without the use of his legs. Arya had wanted to, but by the time Nymeria was large enough they had already been leaving for King’s Landing. She may have ridden Nymeria while on the road, but Robb would never know. 

He shook his head to get himself out of his thoughts. It would do him no good to ponder his own past, and he needed to get back to his father. Robb had the sinking feeling that riding the direwolf was going to be the only way back to his father. 

He turned away from the direwolf, which earned him another bark. But Robb wasn’t going to leave the axe he dropped behind. Even after only a few weeks of wearing it, the missing weight at his side was something that made him uncomfortable. He was already going to have to answer a lot of questions, and a missing weapon wouldn’t make that any easier. 

Robb grabbed up his axe from where it landed within the roots of the weirwood tree. Thankfully, it wasn’t stuck in anything. He stood, and put it back in the loop on his belt. Then he looked up. 

He could never decide if the faces in the weirwood trees looked sad or angry when they were weeping. The faces were always deeply lined, but the eyes were blank. It always threw him off, the blank eyes dripping red tears. It was part of the reason he chose to worship the old gods instead of his mother’s gods. The carved faces had a presence behind them that the faith of the seven lacked for him. It was also the faith of the House Stark, Robb knew that as the heir, it was the faith he was supposed to follow. Even his mother had encouraged it. While she taught her other children both, with the intention of giving them the choice, it was clear to Robb that he was the one child his mother deliberately steered his choice towards his father’s faith. 

Although being reborn again after death through the power of the old gods would have certainly changed his mind had he favored the southern gods instead. 

The direwolf barked again, and this time Robb could sense some urgency from the beast. Moving quickly, he went back to its side, where he threw his leg over the direwolf and lowered himself onto its back. Almost immediately, the direwolf stood and started moving back in the direction it had come from. It was unexpected, and Robb nearly fell off. It was only because he was used to riding Avalon, and dealing with his temperament that he was prepared. He leaned forward, and tightened his legs to get a better grip. Robb sunk his hands into its fur to act as a handhold. It was thick and dense, so Robb was able to get a good grip. 

He could feel the muscles of the direwolf shifting as it moved. It crossed the clearing in a few bounds, and slipped into the shade of the trees without an ounce of difficulty. For Robb, the forest quickly became nothing more than a blur of green and brown at his sides.

******

Robb was unable to keep his thoughts to one topic as the direwolf ran through the forest. 

The childish part of him, the one he so often thought dead after the battles he fought, wanted to savor the wonder of riding the direwolf. It was nothing like riding a horse, the stride of the beast consistent but far less steady for Robb. But the forest felt alive. He could feel different muscles tense or the change in direction as the direwolf flew across uneven ground. The wind was cold and whistled in his ears, but the warmth of the direwolf soaked into his legs. Tears raced from his eyes to his ears, but surprisingly his vision never blurred.

It was the most thrilling ride of his life, but the problems he was facing kept him from fully enjoying it. 

He should have expected something like this to happen. The old gods had changed everything about his life, had to use their own magic to do it if his ancestor was to be believed, and Robb had been a fool. He had not considered that other forces within the world would take notice. He had done the same thing he had done during the war and only faced the problem he could see and understand, rather than considering a larger picture and the resounding consequences of his actions. Robb would be cursing himself for not trying to get more information out of Moss if not for the implications of what he did learn. 

The most concerning of which being ‘The Raven’. 

As much as he racked his brain, he had no memories of any figure referred to by that title, in stories or histories. The truly concerning part was how Moss had referred to them as an authority type figure. They could be one of the few that followed them, but Robb didn’t think that would be the case. The Children of the Forest were greatly reduced in their numbers, it would be a mistake for them to divide themselves on who they followed. The Raven could be a potential ally, but it had been implied by Torrhen Stark that those who were his allies were the ones brought back with him. Theon, even with their tense history, had known about what was going on, and had a relationship with Robb that he could base his decisions on. 

The Raven was an unknown, and a powerful one. Someone clearly far more knowledgeable than Robb about magic and the old gods. And Moss has mentioned something about ‘seeing Robb’s life’. Something that was surely an act of magic. Robb did know about greenseers, though it was admittedly very little. The only ones he could think to question were from House Reed, but they would not cross his path until after his father’s death.

Putting aside The Raven’s magic as a threat, Moss had shown Robb that the Children of the Forest were as powerful as the stories made them out to be. Even if there were more of them he didn’t see, somehow Moss had the power to take Robb without him having any way to avoid it. 

Something that he would now have to explain to his father.

Ned Stark was not known for being a foolish man, or for being an unreasonable one. But nothing about Robb’s story was reasonable, but he could explain it to himself. He could not explain it to his father, or to anyone from Winterfell. While all of them may believe in the old gods and the magic that lived in the north, anything Robb said would only lead to more questions. But he had to say something.

The truth wasn’t even a possibility. It would require him to explain everything. Explaining everything would at the very least get him in trouble if he claimed it was a joke. At worst, it would get him branded insane and would prevent him from fixing anything. 

Lying was not something Robb was particularly skilled at, although if this kept up he would become an expert. The better option would be to admit some parts and keep others. The easiest would be the direwolf. Robb suspected that it was going to take Robb all the way to his father, which would be a great asset. The direwolf would be proof, and if he mentioned the weirwood tree it would explain his disappearance by blaming it on the old gods.

It would have to work. 

Robb felt the direwolf slow before he noticed any change in the environment around him. He heard the voices first. It sounded like someone shouting, but it cut off before it became legible to Robb. 

The direwolf came to a stop in the edge of a small clearing, thickly shrouded by the trees around them, Robb had to duck his head under a branch as they entered it, the direwolf breathing heavily as it slowed to a walk. 

When Robb looked up, his eyes met his father’s.

******

If his father had looked like he had swallowed a rock when finding Robb after his encounter with the wildings, then this time Robb got to see the process. First his face went from tense with anger to flush with relief, before his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He took a sharp inhale and a step back. 

A thud drew Robb’s attention, and he noticed Arne on the ground, also staring at Robb with his mouth hanging open. Everyone was in the clearing, except for the other hunting party. Edwyle and the clansman that were watching the horses were standing by Ser Cassel. In fact of all the men in the clearing the least shocked appeared to be the Norrey. But his exceptionally large beard did hide a good deal of his face, which did a great deal to hide his expressions. 

“Robb!” His father’s voice came out in an odd strangle that was only heard when he or one of his siblings did something particularly concerning. Like when Robb and Jon decided to sneak out for an overnight camping trip.

That time a long lecture and a bit of yelling had followed.

The direwolf continued to walk unconcerned into the clearing. Coming to a stop a few feet before the men. 

Just like it did to let Robb on his back, the direwolf laid down. Robb heard the snow crunch as his father began to move towards them, it was the only noise that any of the men made. 

Robb climbed off the direwolf. He was a little sad to do it, but this one wasn’t his. It did look like it appreciated the scratch behind its ears as much as Grey Wind though. It was a quick one though, since he felt someone grab him almost immediately. It was his father. 

Oddly enough he didn’t back away. Just grabbed Robb and held him tight. The direwolf stood, he seemed less towering now that Robb was being held. Then it did something Robb didn’t expect. 

It lowered its head. Deep enough what it was doing was unmistakable. It met Robb’s eyes while it did, bright and shining. 

When it turned and ran, Robb remembered why he had named his own direwolf the way he did, since this one vanished in a streak of black fur.

The clearing was silent.

******

“To the horses, now.” His father said, in a cold voice that left no room for argument. He notably didn’t put Robb down. 

“What the hell was that!” Arne practically shouted. He then yelped as the Norrey yanked him off the ground by his collar. 

“It was a bloody fucking direwolf. Now move.” The Norrey said, dragging Arne along behind him despite growing protests. 

Ser Cassel and Edwyle also got moving, but not before giving each other side glances. They ended up in a line of sorts, with the Norrey and Arne in the front, followed by Edwyle, then Robb and his father. Ser Cassel and the other clansman followed behind them. 

Robb’s father was holding him so that he was looking over his shoulder. He studied Ser Cassel as they went. The man was as tense as Robb had ever seen him, hand on his sword, eyes darting around them. Even when his eyes met Robb’s they didn’t stay there, and the smile he would have normally given him was nowhere to be found. 

For the first time Robb realized that the sky was significantly darker than it should be for midday, or even late afternoon. Most of what he could see through the trees was a dark blue fading into a hazy purple. He’d been gone for nearly the whole day. 

He’d vanished into thin air with no explanation, for an entire day, and showed up on a direwolf.

His mother would never let him leave Winterfell again. 

“Father…” Robb started, but was quickly interrupted.

“We’ll talk once we get back to the horses Robb.”  His father’s tone left no room for argument.