Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice And Fire

Winter is coming. Those were the words that were spinning through the King of the North's weary mind that night. Even though he was sitting in his chambers in Riverrun, far from his home in Winterfell and the North, he could already feel a chill that spoke of things to come. If it were only the weather that he had to concern himself over he would consider it a fortuitous thing. The overbearing weight that came with the loss of his Father had not waned. It felt like it had manifested itself physically into his very being. He was a man, a soldier, a leader of men, and now a King. He had won battles against his enemies, but still the loss of his Father had left him feeling like lost child. Robb knew he had to place the feeling aside, but it was not so easy.

It was the dead of night, and he could not sleep. His chambers were brilliantly furnished, fit for his new royal status, but they offered him little solace. Robb stood from his chair, where he had been analyzing numerous maps, and walked towards the balcony that stretched out from his room. The cool night air became even more prominent, but it was not unpleasant. It reminded him of home. Home. That was where he most wanted to be. His Father had raised him to be Lord of Winterfell, not a King marching an army south. But so long as Sansa and Arya were in the hands of the Lannisters, he was left with little choice.

Robb stared out over the land, where he could see his men camped, their fires still burning brightly. Umber men, Bolton men, Glover men, Karstark men, and Manderly men among many others; they had all proven their worth, proven their hardiness. They were true men of the North. The fact that they had won victories and captured the Kingslayer had made them even more confident, more fearsome, and though he felt unworthy, he was proud to be their King. Yet the question that lingered in his mind was what next?

He listened to the shouts and drunken revelry of his army for several minutes longer before he turned back inside. His thoughts turned towards his Mother, and the grief that she was consumed with. Not only had she lost her husband, but now she was confronted with the imminent loss of her Father, his own Grandfather. His Mother was a strong, proud woman and she had tried to be strong for his sake, but there were still glimpses of her lingering pain. His love for her drove his conviction to bring back his sisters even more.

Robb walked over to a basin of water next to his bed and scooped a handful of the liquid onto his face. The water was refreshing, and felt like it was temporarily washing some of his troubles away. He grabbed a cloth, patted his face dry and sat down on his luxurious feather bed. As soon as the back of his head touched down on his pillow, he could hear soft steps on the stone floor come rapidly towards him. Robb did not even turn because he knew whom they belonged to. Soon enough, a giant mass of grey fur was standing on the bed next to him.

Grey Wind's golden eyes stared deeply at him, and Robb knew that his companion had sensed his unease. The living embodiment of the Stark sigil lay down and placed his head onto Robb's stomach. He reached up and ran his hand through the direwolf's thick fur, and let the steady breathing of the animal calm him. He was amazed at the dynamic of Grey Wind. One moment he was a fearsome monster who savagely tore the throats out of men, and the next he was as docile as any trained hound. It seemed that everything that night was intent on making him long for home. He could still remember the day his Father allowed them to keep the wolf pups. That memory, a small comfort, along the with the steady rise and fall of Grey Wind's breathing, finally eased him to sleep.

"Your Grace."

Robb's eyes drifted open, and he immediately placed his hand onto Grey Wind's head to stop the wolf from growling at Robb's new squire as if he were a meal.

"Good morning Olyvar," Robb greeted, throwing his legs off the side of the bed. He ran his hand through his wild hair, attempting to tame it. He liked the long curls, but knew they would have to be controlled soon or he would resemble more a wildling than a King.

"Sorry to disturb your rest Your Grace, but your War Council is meeting this morning."

Robb stood now, stretching his stiffened muscles that had been subjected to non-stop travel and fighting. "There's nothing to apologize for Olyvar. I would be more upset if you hadn't."

"Of course, Your Grace," Olyvar said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Should I have your meal brought to your chambers, or will you dine with the Council?"

"I have only been King for a matter of days Olyvar. The need to place myself above my men has not sunk in as of yet, so I think I will eat with them."

"Yes Your Grace."

"And if at anytime I begin to sound like that little shit King Joffrey, I give you my full, Kingly permission to strike me with my own crown."

"Very good, Your Grace," Olyvar responded, his face full of confusion and worry as to whether or not Robb was joking. "Will that be all, sir?"

"I believe I don't require my squire to dress me for a meeting of my Council," Robb smirked at Walder Frey's son. Olyvar bowed again, and made his way through the door and passed the guards who stood watch at the entrance. Although, if I don't give the Kingslayer to Lord Karstark I may actually have need of my armor, Robb thought to himself. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a leather jerkin and his belt and sword. Once he had them fastened properly, he laced his boots and walked over to a table on which rested the newest addition to his wardrobe.

He was not sure who exactly thought the idea of a crown as a symbol for Kingship was a good idea, but they had obviously never worn one previously. His was made of bronze and iron, a Northerner's crown, with swords circling around its length. It was splendid to look at, but wearing it for any long duration was a different matter all together. There was no position in which it sat comfortably, and it irritated his scalp and gave him pains in his head, but it was expected of him now. To not where it would be disrespect to those who made it and those who elevated him to his new mantle.

Robb sighed as the cool metal finally rested against his forehead, and then made his way towards the splendid wooden door. He briefly acknowledged the soldiers guarding him, but came up short when a familiar face was there waiting as well.

"Theon," Robb greeted his friend, who looked as if he had experienced an eventful night. His clothes were drastically disheveled and his hair was thrown in all different directions.

"Your Grace," Theon replied in an exaggerated manner. He was still inclined to call Robb by his name, but with others in earshot, he used the expected courtesy. "You look as if you haven't slept."

"You're one to speak," Robb countered, evading an answer to the remark, not keen to reveal his own trouble sleeping. "You look as if you've been rolling around with the dogs."

"Not dogs, girls," Theon smirked lecherously. "I fucked two of the kitchen servants I saw at dinner last night. It seems being one of the King's closest advisors has its advantages."

"You really have no shame do you?" Robb inquired as they began walking down the halls towards where his Council met. "It isn't enough you probably have bastards running around the North, but now you need them in the Riverlands as well?"

"I consider it an accomplishment."

"You would. And you best not push your luck. This was my Mother's home, and my Grandfather is lying on his deathbed. If she hears your running rabid through Riverrun, she's going to come for your head, and she'll want me to give it."

"You need a girl Your Grace," Theon suggested, clearly not affected by Robb's warning. "All of this stress of being King and fighting wars would be eased if you had someone to warm your bed at night."

"If you have forgotten, and I don't imagine you have, I'm promised to some Frey girl who I've never met or seen. I would rather not have a beautiful girl for a short while and then have to leave her when I marry a Frey with a face that could startle a dragon."

"So just fuck an ugly girl."

Robb did not even offer a response to Theon's vileness, because they had reached the Council chambers. The guards who had followed him took their places outside the doors, while Robb led in the Greyjoy heir. Olyvar was standing right inside the entrance and as soon as Robb crossed the threshold, the squire was announcing the King's arrival. Those already at the large table stood to show their respect, but Robb quickly waved them back down. He took a seat at the head of the table, with his Mother on his left and Uncle Edmure next to her. Lord Jason Maillister already took the seat to Robb's right, so Theon found a seat further down the table next to Galbert Glover. Robb did notice that there were some who were missing from the Council.

"How is my Grandfather?" he asked his Mother, who still looked emotionally fragile.

"He still clings to life. I'm not sure for how much longer though. The maester is keeping him asleep so that he is no pain."

"I will visit him with you later, if that would be acceptable."

"Of course Your Grace." His Mother referring to him as Your Grace was something he had not become accustomed to. He knew that some of it was for the sake of appearance, but he also knew that his Mother was unhappy with him. She wanted her daughters back, and believed that Robb was not doing everything in his power to make that happen. However, there was no way he would remain King if he gave the Kinglsayer up in exchange for two young girls. He would be blamed for every Northerner who fell at the hands of an army led once again by Jaime Lannister. It would not be so easy to best him in battle again.

Most of the table had already began to indulge on various platters of food, but a servant came a placed a plate of fresh bread and sausage in front of him, along with a cup of strong ale. As he began picking at his plate, his attention was once again drawn to the fact that not everyone was present. Lord Karstark was not in attendance, but that was not much of a surprise. There were others missing though, mostly his Grandfather's bannerman.

"Uncle," Robb got Edmure's attention. "It would seem we are light on River Lords this morn."

Edumre, nervously took a deep drink from his cup before he answered. "Your Grace, the Lannisters have dramatically increased their raids on the towns and the smallfolk. Gregor Clegane and his men are raping and burning through the countryside. Some of the Lords have returned to their keeps to reinforce their own defenses, and unfortunately that has decreased the size of your forces."

"They will not be the only ones Your Grace," Greatjon Umber roared from further down the table. "The longer we sit here, nice and safe in our bloody beds, the longer Tywin Lannister has to pick us apart. We must hit them back!" Most of the Lords around the table were quick to voice their agreement. Only the Blackfish did not look enthused.

"Aye, we need to do something, but marching straight into Tywin Lannister's waiting arms is not it," Brynden Tully blustered. "He's picking at us like a vulture, trying to lure us south."

"What would you suggest then?" Robb asked, having pushed away the plate of food, his appetite lacking.

"I suggest we attack, but somewhere that gives us the chance of drawing the Lions out of Harrenhall. Instead of heading south, we should march our forces west."

"West is Lannister country," Theon added.

"Exactly," the Blackfish agreed. "They hear we are marching toward their home and Tywin won't be left with a choice but to move his forces."

"But what of Riverrun," Edmure interjected, deep lines of concern on his face. "If the army marches, Tywin could use our own tactics against us. The castle will stand unguarded and ripe for an attack, and my Father is in no state to withstand a siege."

"It's a gamble," Robb nodded.

"It is more than a gamble!" his Mother exclaimed angrily. This was one of those moments that Robb despised. He loved his Mother, and knew that he would not have made it this far without her the strength that she had helped instill in him. But this was war, and he was a King. His responsibilities were now diverse and far-reaching. He would not be King Joffrey, led around on a leash by Cersei Lannister.

"I understand what moving the army means," Robb began patiently and firmly, "but I would not leave Riverrun completely exposed. It would only need to hold strong until we could swing back and attack them from behind. They would not be able to sack the castle so quickly."

"If it is any consolation, Lady Stark, I believe the chances of the Lannisters bringing a full assault against Riverrun is remote," Roose Bolton explained. "We have had ravens bring news that Renly Barotheon is heading towards King's Landing as we speak, and Stannis is gathering his forces at Dragonstone. It would likely take a direct threat to Casterly Rock for him to commit his army. He would risk the ability to defend an attack on the false king." Robb did not particularly like Roose Bolton. It was hard to like someone who proudly flew a flayed man as his sigil. But in this instance the man was right.

"Is this what we speak of then?" Galbert Glover asked. "Are we going after the Rock?"

"It is the strongest move we can make, other than marching on King's Landing" Robb proclaimed. "And the boldest."

"It will not be easy though, Your Grace," Clement Piper, Lord of Pinkmaiden, cautioned. "My son has received word from home that the Kingslayer's men have retreated to the Tooth. They've been reinforced with men from Casterly Rock."

"What is their strength?" Robb grabbed paper and ink to make note of the numbers.

"Between six and seven thousand men Your Grace," Marq Piper answered. "That would be our greatest challenge as it is the only the direct route to the Rock. If we managed to get past them, then we would have to worry over small forces from Ashemark and the Crag."

"How feasible would it be to actually take and hold Casterly Rock?" Robb needed real information now, not platitudes for a King.

"I know you remember the stories your Father told you as a boy Robb," his Mother asserted. "The Rock has never fallen, let alone been occupied for any length of time." It was clear to Robb from her tone what her position on this endeavor was.

"The problems are twofold Your Grace." Lord Piper stood from his seat and walked closer to Robb so that he could point to a large map in the center of the table. "Once you pass through the Tooth and other towns, the problem will be actually penetrating the Rock. It is literally built into a hill of stone. That is where the defenders have the advantage. Our forces are going to be funneled into halls and passageways where our superiority in number will mean nothing. Meanwhile archers and siege weapons from higher levels will rain death on the soldiers waiting to enter."

"And the second problem..." Robb requested.

"Lannisport Your Grace. The port is well defended, which means we will have to strike two targets at once, dividing some of our forces. Then there are also Lannister ships that we will have to contend with."

"Stannis may take care of that situation for us," the Greatjon stated. "If his arse is leaving Dragonstone, he's doing it with a fleet of ships. No doubt the crazy boy in King's Landing has summoned every ship he can get his hands on."

"Possible, but I doubt the Lannisters would allow Lannisport to be completely open to an attack from sea," Lord Piper challenged. "Just a few ships could ferry in soldiers from Crakehall or Faircastle."

"What we need Your Grace...are ships," Theon spoke up. "If we had ships we could attack the Lannisters from multiple fronts, and catch them in a trap." Robb knew immediately what Theon was getting at, and the truth was that he was cautiously intrigued by it, although he knew the rest of his bannermen wouldn't be.

"I have a small fleet in Seagard, Your Grace, but not enough to survive any prolonged attack," Lord Mallister stated.

"I'm not speaking of ships from Seagard, Lord Mallister." Well, here it comes, Robb thought. "Call for an alliance with my Father, Lord Balon Greyjoy. The Iron Islands have ships, strong ships and real sailors who would like nothing more than to attack the Lannisters."

The uproar that followed Theon's proposal happened just as Robb predicted. The first man off his feet was Jason Mallister, who had spent most of his life fending off raids from the Iron Islands. He banged his fist fiercely against the table, unnecessarily reminding everyone of the failed Greyjoy Rebellion. Robb was grateful for the fact that he declined to bring up that he had killed Theon's brother in that same rebellion. Robb tried to talk over the others, but it was a fruitless attempt, as they were all frenzied with getting their points across. Luckily, the Greatjon was there to assist him.

"Shut your mouths!" The Greatjon roared. "Your King is trying to speak!"

"Thank you, Lord Umber," Robb bowed his head to his loyal bannerman. "As I was trying to say, I agree with Theon that strategically his idea is sound. And I also understand all of your concerns about an alliance with the Iron Islands. I'll make no decision now, but will think on it more. For now let us discuss the task of moving and supplying our forces through the Westerlands."

Robb had learned quickly into his tenure as a soldier and King that the fighting and dying parts of war were the easiest parts. It was the tedious planning that was required which made it a burden. Figuring out where to camp twenty thousand men, and how much food was needed to sustain twenty thousand men were things that Robb had to admit were out of his field of knowledge. His bannermen were experienced fighters, who had led men into battle and he gleaned every bit of wisdom he could off of them.

The Council lasted for hours, detailing a warpath and going over reports from their scouts around the countryside. Once a tentative plan had been agreed on. Robb called an end to the meeting and allowed his Lords to go and start making preparations. He piled the sheets of parchment that he had made notes on when he saw that the only two people left in the room aside from him and his squire were Theon and his Mother.

"Olyvar, could you escort Theon back to my chambers? I mean to speak with him after I'm finished here."

"Yes, Your Grace." Theon only raised a brow, but he realized that Robb needed to discuss things with his Mother.

Only when Theon and Olyvar were gone, and the door shut, did Lady Stark begin to speak. "This whole plan is a folly, Robb."

"Which part?"

"All of it. You have won two battles, and now you mean to march on the Westerlands as if it is of no consequence. The Lannisters will not surrender their home without a fight. Tywin Lannister has men in his pocket whom will come to defend Casterly Rock, men who he has bought with his considerable wealth."

"Aye, he has sell swords and hedge knights whose loyalty swings at the drop of a gold coin. We have Northerners and River Lords who are fighting for their homes and their families. I'll take my army over theirs in any fight."

"Robb, do not overestimate the honor of your own men," Catelyn warned. "Gold has a power over men like little else. Walder Frey is a shining example of that."

"I will trust my men until they give me good reason not to, Mother."

"And now you want to place your trust, the lives of your men, into the hands of a Greyjoy?"

"We have no ships," Robb stated, pointing to troop figures on his map. "The Lannisters do, and if they keep refusing to come to terms with us, then we won't have a choice, but to fight them on all fronts. And what if we defeat the Lannisters and Stannis is not willing to separate Westeros? He will have ships to crush us with as well."

"The Greyjoys are nothing but raiders and pirates who steal and kill. They have no honor at all. The fact that Theon Greyjoy still serves as our hostage should be evidence enough of that. You think Balon Greyjoy will look kindly on you for it?"

"Honor does not win any battles Mother!" Robb bristled. "My Father lived his whole life honorably, and I admire him for it, but it cost him his head because his enemies would not play by his rules." Robb stopped when he saw that the mention of Ned Stark caused his Mother to flinch. He did not wish to upset her, but she needed to understand his position. "Theon is no great example of chivalry, I know, but he is my friend and I trust him. He was raised as a man of the North, and never treated like a prisoner for a single day while he was at Winterfell."

"It does not matter what Theon feels," Catelyn chided. "Balon is the one who lost sons fighting against Ned, the one who was forced to part with his heir," his Mother argued.

"Then Theon and I will have to convince him. It was not just Starks who smashed the Greyjoy Rebellion. It was Lannisters and Baratheons and their bannermen as well. Stannis and Tywin will come calling for their aide eventually, and better for us if we secure their allegiance first."

"What do you have to offer that Tywin Lannister cannot?"

"A reunion with his son and heir...and Casterly Rock."

"You mean to give the Greyjoy's Casterly Rock?" His Mother questioned, obviously taken aback.

"Yes, I do. If we want the Greyjoys to stop raiding our coasts, then we must give them incentive not to. The Iron Islands are a chain of ruins and Casterly Rock is the biggest piece of plunder they could hope for. We'll offer them a chance to make a new name for themselves."

"You will not convince me of the wisdom of this plan, Robb."

"I am the King, it is not my responsibility to convince my Mother of my battle strategy."

He had dealt his Mother a blow, and he could clearly tell that his statement staggered her. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find a retort, but she seemed to think better of it. "That is true Your Grace. If that is all I will take my leave to visit my Father."

"You may go, Mother." She turned gracefully and exited through the door without another word. Only when he could no longer hear her footsteps echoing down the hall did he fall back into his seat. He rubbed his hands over his tired eyes and could only think that this day his crown felt even heavier.