Chapter Text
How many kings could there be?
Catelyn watched the scene unfolding around her. Robb was young, with only eighteen summers and a crown upon his head, one that was bigger than his forehead. If looking at him reminded her of the first time she had held him against her chest, how would she remember him when seeing him before other supposed kings? Grasping his wooden sword for the first time, or standing by his father Eddard as they rode out? He is a king, she reminded herself as she watched the lords of the Trident and the North speak to him, a king who had already fought battles, one who had already killed. Yet, Catelyn did not want to let him go.
Eddard Stark had been executed in King’s Landing, Lady Sansa and Arya were captured, with no mention of the second. And now Robb was betrothed, fighting a war that should never have been his to lead, while Bran could not move. What had they done to deserve such punishment?
Oh, Ned. If only we had stayed in Winterfell. If only we had not opened our gates to the queen and her wicked brother.
Robb looked at her from where he sat at the high table of the great hall of Riverrun, the lords of the North standing to his right while those of the Trident to his left, talking over one another. He only listened as he always did, something Catelyn had grown to notice lately, how her son sat and listened and, just like his father, when he finished, took the time to answer. When he straightened in his seat his crown tilted slightly.
“Stannis sent the raven for a reason, regardless of whether he allies with me or not, he believed my father’s words and wants to honor them. That is reason enough to hear him.”
“Your Grace,” one of the lords began, “our Lord Eddard Stark… do you truly believe Stannis speaks the truth? That that was the cause of his death?”
Robb took a moment to answer. “Aye.” Almost everyone in the room murmured in agreement, the events they had heard being enough to piece the puzzle together just as their king was doing. “If my father discovered the queen and the kingslayer, it would make sense that they killed him. After King Robert’s death, for my father, the best way to maintain the succession and remove the Lannisters was through Stannis… and Bran remains proof enough. The Lannisters nearly killed him as they did my lord father.”
Karyl Vance’s voice was heard. “Yet Your Grace, Lord Stannis will not want to reach an agreement, especially now that Renly Baratheon has basically taken the stormlands’ army from him.”
“Renly might listen,” said Galbart Glover. “He was the one who was in King’s Landing when our Lord Eddard was imprisoned.”
And he did nothing, Catelyn thought, but swallowed the words angrily.
He spoke again. “The only thing we know at this moment is that the Lannisters will not surrender, they will keep sending Tywin to cover themselves.”
“We have the kingslayer as a prisoner,” Robb reminded them all.
“Aye, we do, Your Grace. And some other Lannister prisoners.”
Brynden Blackfish made a subtle signal to Robb which he caught quickly, then proceeded to speak to one of his soldiers. “Bring him in,” he demanded before glancing at the other lords. “Joffrey might not want to comply, but Tywin will be smart regarding his firstborn. Especially now that Princess Reader Baratheon is missing.”
“If Joffrey does not have her in chains,” Catelyn heard Theon whisper to Robb, making his expression more serious.
Despite the deep displeasure she felt upon hearing that, it held a great deal of truth. Stannis had sent ravens to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms telling of how the honorable Ned Stark had discovered that Queen Cersei’s children were in fact the product of incest with her twin brother Jaime Lannister, which would make them bastards and by law unworthy of inheriting the throne of the late King Robert. There had been news from the south telling of how in King’s Landing they hunted down boys and girls, even infants, who were or were suspected to be bastards of the late king. But, of all Queen Cersei’s children, there was only one Ned never mentioned as being a bastard, and he even asked for protection under Stannis: Reader Baratheon, whom anyone who had ever seen her could not doubt was truly Robert’s daughter.
Catelyn remembered her; the last time she had seen her was in Winterfell. A graceful and beautiful girl, she had left her little Sansa hypnotized upon seeing her the first time. Though in personality, she could never know how far that grace went. But if they were killing bastards of the former king, how could they not murder her, who was rumored to perhaps be the only true blood of King Robert? Without a doubt Joffrey would want her dead if that were the case, but she doubted Cersei, monster that she was, would go so far as to be an accomplice to her son in murdering her own daughter.
Robb finished laying down the terms and conditions to Ser Cleos, concluding the meeting with the king as he stepped out alongside Grey Wind. In the end, Catelyn would never reach an agreement, not even with her own son, neither for Arya nor Sansa. A king now, she reminded herself once more. But if what she had discussed with her uncle was enough, Robb would stand a chance against Tywin if he joined forces with Renly. It was the only way to draw Tywin out of Harrenhal.
“What would it take to convince Renly?” the Blackfish asked when they found themselves alone. “Stannis would never accept the conditions for Northern independence; all he’s asked for is his niece’s ransom and for them to bend the knee to him.”
“I don’t think Renly would accept them either, yet he commands the army of the Stormlands alongside the Tyrells and their bannermen…”
“Precisely my point. With the reputation and alliances he holds, what more could he possibly want?”
“Homage,” she said. “Like any other king.”
The heavy doors flew open with a bang, causing both of them to snap their heads around. A breathless boy of about thirteen strode in quickly, looking all around while clutching a raven scroll. The blue eyes of the kid darted around. The Blackfish straightened up at the sight of him before sharing a glance with Catelyn.
“Your Grace…” the squire asked, “he… he called a meeting.”
“It’s already over,” the Blackfish told him, gesturing to the scroll. “What is the message you carry, boy?”
He swallowed hard before answering, “It’s about Renly Baratheon, my lord. Word is he has the lost princess.”
Catelyn snatched the scroll from his hand, immediately stepping out of the hall to tell Robb. She could not waste another second; if the golden doe was in Renly’s care, she would have to ride for the Stormlands at once.
Robb could not sleep the entire night. Only when looking in the mirror could he hear every comment made about him, both good and bad. Every thought and expectation his lords held of him, every single one his mother carried. She was the one who noticed it best, wasn’t she? That thought terrified and frustrated Robb. Nothing escaped Catelyn Stark; the way his eyes were hollowed out from lack of sleep, the way his beard had grown, redder than his hair, the way he had let it grow while adopting a fur-lined cloak similar to his late father’s and a brand-new sword. A new crown, just like the ancient kings of his bloodline.
I am really foolish, Robb kept thinking, foolish and with a poor narrative. Every day he corrected men for calling him a boy, but now as he looked at himself, regardless of the changes he bore, he felt like just that. A boy, a foolish one who could never lead like his father.
Only one mistake and everything would unravel.
But he had hurt his mother; he saw it in her blue eyes, Tully eyes like those of his grandfather Hoster, who lay abed, dying. The very grandfather he had not gone to visit. Two faults against her: telling her there was nothing he could do for Arya and Sansa, and denying seeing his grandfather. Robb frowned, looking away from his reflection. No, there were three. Three faults for failing to save his father, for failing to spare everyone, and especially her, that pain.
And if they were only three, why did the deaths of his men haunt him day and night? To what limit a king’s mistakes can truly be justified?
To make matters worse, it wasn’t enough to carry these thoughts alone, now Theon would soon leave his side while he figured out a way to cut off the Lannisters from the Trident, whereas Renly had the golden doe in his grasp.
He had had no choice but to accept his mother going to parley with him.
If only it worked, and she returned alive. If only Renly gave him no trouble regarding the terms of Northern independence should he accept the alliance, and if only Robb could place him or reader on the Iron Throne.
“Keep thinking this hard and your mind will fry, Your Grace.”
“You don’t need to call me so formally when we’re alone, Theon. You are my brother.”
“Aye, I know. But the title suits you now,” Theon smirked, drawing a seat closer. “I leave for Pyke tomorrow.”
“I heard. Mother leaves as well.”
“Lady Stark?” Theon looked confused. “… I’ll need to ask for a better ship.”
“Not to Pyke, to the Stormlands.” Robb stroked Grey Wind. “She’s going to speak with Renly.”
“I heard about his campaign, and that the lost princess is apparently with him.” He gave a low whistle and shook his head. “That is very bad news for Stannis. Tell me, is that why you’re joining them?”
“Only in forces. You know the lords won’t accept putting Tommen Baratheon on the throne after killing Joffrey. They are all bastards. But she isn’t, and my father died for her truth and King Robert’s, if it isn’t Renly on the throne, it’s her, and Cersei and Tywin want her back.”
“And damn Joffrey wants her back too, Robb. He’s unhinged, he had infants killed just because he thinks they’re his father’s bastards. Trident soldiers who’ve been in King’s Landing don’t tell pretty stories about him.”
Robb didn’t have many good things to say about him either. Joffrey Baratheon, or rather, Joffrey Waters? If he called him that right before executing him, how would he react? He remembered the way the prince threw a tantrum in Winterfell after nearly losing a sparring match.
Joffrey is a prince, therefore his training with the sword was twice as good as his or Theon’s, Robb had once told Jon, but the moment their blades crossed, he saw none of that training, only sheer arrogance and a face as handsome as his parents’. Even so, he had had to pretend to lose.
At least he already knew Joffrey wouldn’t be a problem if he crossed paths with him sword in hand, it would be different if the Hound or the Mountain were guarding him.
Even the princess had mocked her own brother back then, comparing his sword skill to King Robert’s juvenile war stories. Robb remembered what she had said, and it was easy to tell that the siblings could not stand each other at all.
Now that he thought about it, what did the golden doe actually look like? He could only recall certain features of her appearance, but the fact that she was King Robert’s daughter was obvious enough.
Robb danced with her.
That much he remembered well, as well as the sound of her voice when she spoke. He remembered the conversation they had, the gown she wore, much thinner than the ones of the north. But that night at the feast was the last time he truly interacted with her. The rest of the time she stayed in Winterfell on that occasion, Robb only watched her from afar, standing with her sister Myrcella beside Sansa and Arya, or at Robert’s side, holding his arm.
Robb rose from his seat to look at the map. “If mother manages to forge an alliance with Renly, all the other factions will see that we support the princess he protects, regardless of which of the two ends up on the throne. By championing the princess, I can use my father’s martyrdom. They will see this campaign as an act of justice against the usurper Lannisters.”
“You want to take that route? I thought we were fighting for independence.”
“Independence requires a clean slate, and I need to see if I can get my sisters back. Renly might want the throne entirely for himself, leaving his niece no way to rule.”
Theon looked at him with a frown. “You expect him to negotiate her release for your sisters? Robb, I am sorry to say this, I know it is hard to hear, but Arya and Sansa are not worth the same as a princess.”
“I know. That could never happen, but some agreement can be reached concerning Sansa.”
“And Arya?”
Robb’s face turned into one of absolute sadness.
Theon quickly patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine,” he said quickly. “With my father’s ships, we will very soon have the upper hand over Casterly Rock and King’s Landing.”
The smirk he gave him was enough to make Robb smile a bit. “Aye…” He looked at the map again. “Casterly Rock…”
“Hmm?”
“I have to capture Casterly Rock.” He brushed his finger across the map. “I bet Tywin is distracted knowing his niece is under Renly’s protection.”
Theon laughed. “Now you have truly gone mad, Your Grace.” One of the serving girls stopped in front of the door, causing him to quickly grab his cup of wine. “It is about time I retired. I must make the most of the final moments here in camp.”
“Again?” Father was right, Theon’s trouble with women is worse than I thought. “I thought you had already been making the most of that time all day long.”
“Jealous?”
Robb nudged him in the ribs.
“Ow! All right, all right. Your Grace, I wouldn’t want you to execute me. I will be on my way.” He opened the door, taking the girl’s hand. “Though now that I think about it, if you actually get the chance to see the Golden Doe, you should be happy. I thought you liked her back in Winterfell.”
Before, he surely would have blushed at Theon’s teasing, but Robb only gestured for him to leave. He no longer had the luxury of admiring any girl, not even of remembering when he used to do so. He was a king. And even if he grew to be Theon’s age, he could not act as Theon did, taking such liberties. What if he left a bastard behind? Jon crossed his mind.
If he truly crossed paths with the princess, he only hoped the negotiations would go smoothly. Nothing more.