Chapter 4 - The New Queen
Roslin
Roslin had been at Riverrun for barely a week and she had seen every side of her husband's personality. His jovial attitude at feasts, his caring nature in private, and his rapturous fury when bad news returned from the front. While she was wary around him in his more angry moments, she was never scared. Unlike a lot of men, Robb was able to control his anger, knowing when to bottle it up or when to release it.
He must have got it from his father thought Roslin,
the Tullys do not possess such talent.
Prior to the war, Tully and Frey relations were at an all-time low. Roslin's father, Lord Walder, and Robb's grandfather, Lord Hoster, had been enemies since Roslin could remember, with her father's cautiousness during Robert's Rebellion being the latest in a long line of insults to their Tully overlords. I was well known that her father desired the title of Lord Paramount of the Trident, and she knew that it was more than likely that had Robert Baratheon lost at the Trident, her father would have declared for the Mad King. While she had little love for her father, and she was sure he had little love for her prior to her marriage, she couldn't bring herself to denounce that line of thinking. The rebel's victory was far from certain, and it was known across the realm that if they lost, most of the Houses would be destroyed root-and-stem like the Darklyns and the Reynes. But the past didn't matter, and besides she was a Frey no more, she was a Stark. Her loyalties now lay with Winterfell, not the Twins.
Today was a big day for Roslin, for the first time she was to accompany Robb to his war council, the first of its kind since Robb was declared king. However this time it would not end in exultant lords and a new king, for it was called to deal with the dire news from the North. It had turned out that Balon Greyjoy was every inch the nave the stories said he was and had crowned himself Iron King once more, his eyes firmly placed on the seemingly vulnerable lands of the North. What had made this news even more distressing was that Ned Stark's old ward and Robb's best friend, Theon Greyjoy, was one of those leading the reavers.
“Damn him!” Robb had shouted when he told Roslin the news. “He was my friend and he betrayed me!” In the privacy of their bedchambers, Robb cried as Roslin hugged him, slowly rubbing his back as they embraced. There are fewer betrayals worse than one from a friend, and even a man as hard as Robb could be hurt from it. It had taken a few days for Robb to recover from it, but when he did he returned to the stern commander of men that she had heard about when their betrothal was first announced. With the recovery came the calls for a war council in order to deal with the new threat.
When Roslin arrived at the great hall for the council she found that she had been one of the last to arrived. In the middle of the hall was a long table with a map of Westeros and three large decanters of wine. Around the table stood the other council members, who were all quietly talking to each other in hushed tones. She recognised many of them despite the fact she had only known them for a week or so. There was Lords Brynden and Edmure Tully, both representatives of old Lord Hoster who was bedridden. Next to them were Lord Rickard Karstark and Roslin's 'uncle', Black Walder. In truth he was her nephew, but he was nearly two decades older than her and far more experienced with the world. He was there to represent her father and House Frey as a whole, though many Freys wanted him dead. On the opposite side of the table were the Robb's master-of-arms Rodrick Cassel, Lady Catelyn, and the master-of-whisperers Roose Bolton.
“May I present her grace, Roslin of House Stark, Queen of the North and the Trident” the plump announcer's bellowing voice alerted all to her presence. As if in unison the assembled councillors bowed, though some went lower than others.
“You may rise,” Roslin said in an almost meek voice. “Thank you for giving me such a warm welcome.”
Rodrick Cassel bowed his head again “it's an honour, Your Grace.”
Lord Bolton let out a wry smile at Rodrick's words, though it seemed like smiling was something his thin pale lips struggled to. “Indeed it is an honour, Your Grace, to find a queen so modest in attitude yet so illustrious in looks is a rare thing these days.” He smiled yet again, though this time he stared right at her with his pale eyes. Something about Lord Bolton unnerved Roslin, although she couldn't quite nail down why. Sure his manners were as strange as his looks, but that wasn't what was bothering her. She felt like his were words felt like they had a thousand meanings behind them, and she would never find out what all of them are.
Roslin could see that Lady Catelyn sensed what effect Lord Bolton was having, her eyes were also concentrated on him. “Lord Bolton, what news do your spies bring from the North?” He finally broke eye contact and looked towards Catelyn.
“As you know I have no spies in any places, my lady” a lie Roslin knew, and so did her mother-in-law.
“That may be my lord, but all the same, what do they say?”
Lord Bolton sighed “the Ironborn have landed on the Stony Shore in small numbers and have been raiding villages in the area. Though sightings from Bear Island suggest a larger Ironborn force is sailing for Deepwood Motte. If they take it-”
“They will be able to march on Winterfell,” said Robb as he strode into the room, the swagger Roslin had seen on her wedding day on full display. When he reached her, he gently put his hand on her back and kissed her on the cheek. For a moment they stared at each other and Roslin felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed. Unlike many of her sisters and cousins who shamefully were often losing their virginity to their own siblings, she had saved her maidenhead for her wedding day in the hopes of finding the right man. It had only been a week, but it looked like her gamble had paid off.
“Ahem,” Lady Catelyn's feigned coughing finally brought them back into the room. When they turned to the assembled lords, they all had embarrassed smiles on their faces, even the humourless Black Walder.
Lord Brynden pointed towards the map on the table. “Your Grace, shall we get down to business?”
Robb looked back at Roslin for a moment, smiled, and then answered. “Yes uncle, we shall.”
Everyone in the room assembled around the map of Westeros that was laid out on the table. On it were little wooden models shaped in the style of different House sigils. All across the Riverlands were Stark, Tully, Frey, Bolton, Karstark, Bracken, Blackwood, and Mallister sigils. At Harrenhal was a Lannister sigil, signifying Lord Tywin's continued stay at the ruined castle, and on King's Landing was both a lion and a crowned stag. In the North, the sigils were spread out far less, with the majority of them centred around Winterfell. Men from Houses Stark, Umber, Reed, Manderly, Mormont, Ryswell, Dustin, and Glover made up the main bulk of the army. As she looked around the map Lord Edmure added three new models, all shaped as the Greyjoy Kraken.
Robb began to place them around the map “as you have heard from Lord Bolton, the Ironborn have been spotted all along the western coast.” He placed one of the models at the south of the Stony Shore near the Rills. “Ryswell scouts report that a small force barely two thousand strong are raiding a few miles south of their lands. They say these reavers are both green boys and old men, most likely a decoy or a distraction.” Another model was placed, this time at the north of the Stony Shore. “Glover scouts say that a similar sized force composed of similar looking reavers have been raiding in this area. Again I believe them to be a distraction.” Finally, Robb placed a Greyjoy sigil in the straits between Bear Island and Deepwood Motte. “ Both Glover and Mormont scouts have reported sightings of a large Ironborn fleet sailing into this area and heading towards the Motte. They obviously plan to take it as a base of operations so they can advance toward Winterfell.”
When Robb had finished his report, Lord Karstark grunted and raised his beak-like nose towards his liege. “Do your scouts report on who the commanders are?”
“Not all of them, but the personal banners of Victarion Greyjoy, Asha Greyjoy, Gorold Goodbrother, and Dagmer Cleftjaw have all been seen flying from masts.”
“What of the turncloak?” asked Lord Bolton, his voice unemotional and cold.
Rodrick Cassel's face twisted with disgust with the mention of the traitor “I promise you, your grace if I see Theon Greyjoy I will put his head on Winterfells battlements myself!”
Roslin turned to Robb, worried about what the mention of Theon would do to him. Instead, he was stern and cold, closer to Roose Bolton than Cassel. “There had been no sightings of him so far.”
Lady Catelyn shook her head “Theon is closer to his father than we thought, he won't dare step foot in the North after what he's done. Perhaps there's hope that he feels a sliver of shame for his actions.” Robb seemingly ignored what his mother said and turned his head back towards the map. Roslin knew why he had ignored it, he couldn't bring himself to talk about it.
“The forces Lord Reed and Lord Manderly were marshalling around Winterfell bring south are now to be used against the Ironborn” Robb reached over to map and pulled three models up the Trident. “To bolster the army even further, six thousand northerner soldiers will also be sent back up the Neck to deal with reavers.”
“But what about the Lannisters?” asked Lord Edmure, his frowning face revealing his scepticism towards the plan.
“We currently have them on the back foot, and they are still struggling against Stannis. That gives us time to breathe. If we let the Ironborn take the North then this war is lost.”
Black Walder, who had been quiet for the entire meeting, finally spoke up. “What about the army in the south?”
“The remaining eight thousand northern soldiers will be joined by the entirety of the riverlander host.” Robb, with the help of Ser Brynden, pushed all the remaining sigils in the Riverlands together and shoved it eastwards. “Once the forces are combined I will march on Harrenhal and root out Tywin Lannister, forcing him to fight or retreat.”
Black Walder nodded but still didn't seem convinced, his furrowed eyebrows slightly twitching as he thought. “Who will be leading these armies?”
“The relief force will be led by Ser Rodrick.” The news delighted the elderly master-of-arms, who grinned when he heard the news. “On my march towards Harrenhal I will be joined by Ser Brynden and Lord Umber.” Robb finally rose up and stood tall once again. “Hopefully we can deal with the Ironborn and the Lannisters in a single swift stroke.”
The councillors bowed, and all took their leave. Nearly all of them left silently with the meetings information still processing in their heads. It was only the happy Roderick who was conversing, this time to Lady Catelyn.
“I'll bring your good tidings to Bran and Rickon my lady.” Ser Roderick said as he slowly walked with Lady Stark.
“Thank you, Ser Roderick, that is most kind.” She patted Ser Roderick on the back before continuing the journey out of the great hall. Roslin listened to them until she could hear no more before turning to her husband. He was hunched over the map again, his eyes fixated on the Ironborn in the North.
Assuming that he was thinking about strategy, Roslin turned to leave but was stopped when Robb suddenly spoke up. “Roslin I would like a word if I could.” When she turned she saw him walking toward one of the large windows at the side of the hall.
“Of course Robb” Roslin answered as she walked over to him. When she was finally next to him he put his hand round her shoulder and gently pulled her next to him. When Roslin rested her head on her husband's shoulder, she could hear that his heart was beating fast.
“I wanted to tell you something in private,” he said as he looked out the window and towards the river “Away from prying eyes of Lord Bolton and your cousin.” Good thought Roslin, Black Walder was never to be trusted, even for a Frey he was untrustworthy. As for Lord Bolton, well there was just a creepy aura around him, one filled with coldness and ruthlessness. It seemed Robb sensed it as well.
“What is it?” she asked as she too looked out across the Red Fork, it's waters filled with Tully longships and fishing boats.
“I know we've been married for only a week but...I need to know that you are safe, which is something I can't guarantee right now whilst you are here.”
“Riverrun is one of the safest places in the Seven Kingdoms.”
Robb sighed. “Yes but if I'm captured by the Lannisters, or killed-”
“Don't say that” exclaimed Roslin as she whipped her towards Robb. He carried on looking out the window.
“If I am, I don't want you to be taken by them as well. You know Tywin's reputation.” She did. The fate of House Reyne and Tarbeck had become legend, and the Targaryen's spectacular downfall was down to him as well. Now all that was left of the mighty dragon lords was a young girl married to a Dothraki horselord half a world away.
“So where am I going? The Twins?”
Robb shook his head. “No, you are going to Winterfell.”
Roslin's chest tightened, her palms began to sweat. She had feared the day when she would finally go North, to freezing tundra wastes filled with heathen half-wildlings. At least that was what Lothar said it was like.
Roslin's eyes began to well up with tears, though she managed to keep her voice stable. “Winterfell? But it's so far away.”
“Exactly!” Shouted Robb in an almost jovial manner. “Far from the war and far from the Lannisters.” When he had turned to see her, Roslin had begun to silently cry. When she noticed her husband looking at her, she began to desperately wipe away the tears.
I don't want to look weak! She told herself. Robb let out a sympathetic smile and began to gently stroke her hair. “ Look I know it will be strange, but Winterfell is the safest place for you. With Ser Roderick up there it will be even safer...” Roslin tried to smile but it didn't seem to convince Robb who reached down and pecked her on the cheek. “Think of it this way, you get to meet my charming brothers.”
Roslin feigned excitement, letting out a forced cheeky smile. Before Robb could react, Grey Wind trotted in and began to brush his nose against his master's hand. Robb let go of Roslin and crouched low, scratching his direwolf around the ears.
“Do all of you Starks have those cursed direwolves?” asked Roslin in a joking manner as she too began to stroke Grey Wind, though much more warily than Robb's aggressive petting.
“Yes, and believe it or not, Grey Wind is the tamest.”
Gods thought Roslin
will I get any sleep?
