Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. All characters and rights are of George R.R. Martin.

Heeyo! I'm BarrZ and welcome to my first story, I hope you enjoy it!

As I mentioned at the author notes I posted a while ago, I've been re-writting the story from the first chapter to the last, that being chapter 23. I'll post those chapters in three different days, posting eight of them today, eight more tomorrow and the remaining ones the day after. After that, I'll upload new chapters weekly or every two weeks, depending of work and stuff like that. Let me apologise to all of those who patiently waited for the story to continue, I hit a massive wall at c24 and I just sort of gave up, my inspiration left me and I needed to renew my spirits from FF, I hope you understand

Without further delay, let's get started

Robb I

Olyvar Frey rushed into the king's tent in the Stark encampment.

"My king." told the Frey squire while bowing.

Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and first King in the North since Torrhen Stark gave up his crown and knelt before Aegon I Targaryen, also known as The Conqueror, looked up at him, annoyed at being disturbed.

"What is the meaning of this, Olyvar?" His squire, nervous as he was, didn't answer directly and handed him a letter instead, the seal still untouched. Robb took it and read, eager to get through the note and go back to his well-deserved rest.

To the flayed man,

The wolf has made too many mistakes. Hand him over and the North shall be yours. Seek the towers to aid you. We always pay our debts.

The Lion of the Rock

Robb's anger burned his insides as bright as wildfire. He had always known that the Boltons and the Freys weren't the most trustworthy of his lords, but their men where needed to his cause and Roose's counsel was valuable, as his calm demeanor and point of view tempered the war councils, considering that Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark, his other chief advisors along with Ser Brynden Tully, had a thirst for Lannister blood that often clouded their judgement.

But Robb wasn't a fool and knew the bloody history between Winterfell and the Dreadfort, of how the Red Kings of old had worn the flayed skins of Stark prince's as cloaks, and furthermore, even his father had always kept a close watch on Roose Bolton and his lands. Walder Frey was a completely different matter, but Roose was in travelling with his army and it would be easier to deal with. Focusing on finding the truth about it, as some of his lords would complain about throwing him in shackles without having proved his guiltiness, he questioned his squire.

"Olyvar, where did you find this?" asked Robb, fixing his eyes on the boy.

"I was going back to my tent after watering the horses and saw a small shape slipping out of my tent, it looked like a child from afar, but I can't say for certain. I ran, trying to chase it, but it escaped and vanished into the shadows. When I went inside my tent, looking if anything was out of place, I saw the letter on top of my bed with a note saying that I should present it to my King immediately." replied Olyvar, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Truth to be told, Robb didn't know if he could trust him, if what the letter said was true.

He had always been a dutiful squire, who did everything he was asked. He fought beside him at the Whispering Wood and Oxcross, covering his back when Grey Wind or any of his personal guard couldn't, but he was a Frey, and his family had sided with Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister, betraying the North, if the contents of the letter were true. He thought about it for a minute or two, his serious gaze reading the letter all over again, and at the end, he decided his squire had made enough to earn his confidence.

"Very well. Help me with my armor and call for Lords Umber and Karstark. Tell them to come here at once, armed and with the utmost discretion. And tell some of my men from Winterfell to come and guard the tent outside."

"Your grace." bowed Olyvar, who did as bid before running out in search of the Northern Lords.

Robb adjusted his sword belt and took a few moments to think about the war.

He came from the North with twenty-two thousand men at his back and had only lost between four and five thousand of them. He had won every battle he fought, breaking Ser Jaime's Lannister host at the siege of Riverrun and putting him in shackles, routing the remnants of his army behind the Golden Tooth, pushing the Lannisters into the Crownlands at the south-east and plundered the Westerlands in retaliation for the Riverlands.

But despite all his achievements, the war was far from won. At the Crag, the Westerling's ancient seat, he had been wounded by an arrow, and Jeyne Westerling, daughter of Lord Westerling, had treated his wounds. What had started as a simple conversation escalated quickly and he had bedded the woman.

By next day's noon, he had married her. He didn't do it for love or for any political advantage, but he had dishonored her and his honor demanded him to do so. It had costed him three thousand men of House Frey, who had abandoned him at the moment he married the westernlander, between curses and calls of oathbreaker.

And now he had to deal with the Boltons.

He thanked the Old Gods that Dacey Mormont had stopped his mother's attempt at liberating the Kingslayer. He didn't even want to know what the most martial lords like Lord Karstark would do if his mother had freed Ser Jaime.

The point was that he knew he was in a desperate need of allies, but he simply didn't have any options left in Westeros. The Tyrells would soon be bound to the Lannisters by marriage if what his mother said was true. Stannis controlled the Stormlands and the Narrow Sea, but he burned any person who did not follow his red god and had suffered a crushing defeat at King's Landing walls. Aunt Lysa had holed herself in the Vale and remained silent since the start of the conflict, and Dorne had no reason to side either with him or the Lannisters. The only ones left were the Greyjoys, but his council had argued against the idea of siding with Balon after his failed rebellion seven years ago.

Sighing heavily, he poured himself a glass of ale. He hadn't even finished it before his lords came in.

"You summoned us, your grace?" told the booming voice of the Greatjon, followed by Lord Karstark just behind, who bowed his head when their eyes met.

"Indeed, my lords, and with the most dreadful news. Take a seat and read this." answered Robb, going straight to the point and handing the letter to them.

Lord Umber's face turned red with rage. Lord Karstark eyes widened, but he was clearly angered.

"The massive cunt!" yelled the Greatjon "I swear my King that I will chop off his fucking head for this treason" ended the Umber, smashing his fist onto the wooden table and making Robb's ale spill all over the table.

"Calm yourself Jon" soothed Lord Rickard, placing his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"If this is true, Roose is a dead man walking, but if he suspects that we know anything about it he will run with his tail between his legs, even if he needs to leave all his men behind. We need to take him unaware" the Greatjon exhaled and nodded at Robb before sitting back on his chair.

"So, how do we proceed, your Grace?" asked Lord Karstark.

"We will reach the Twins in three days, and I assure you my lords, that if Roose Bolton is guilty of treason he won't make it there alive. I will send a raven to Harrenhall, ordering Lady Mormont and Lord Glover to gather half of the garrison and march to the Twins at full speed. We lost three thousand men when the Freys deserted us, and we will lose all of the Boltons who don't see reason, so I will send another raven to Winterfell with instructions of summoning the mountain clans and marching them to Moat Caitlin where they can be called should we need them."

"What of the bastard at the Dreadfort?" asked Lord Umber. "With his father dead he will call himself the new Lord Bolton. He was left in the North, and if a quarter of the things that we heard of him is true, we need to be rid of him. He is a danger to the North itself"

"Ramsay Snow will share the same fate as his father, Lord Umber. When we received the news of the Hornwood, I sent word to Lord Manderly to gather a thousand men and take him prisoner. He will die, and the Dreadfort will be rewarded to a more loyal family."

Both lords nodded their heads in approval, pleased about what they were hearing.

"For now, we take Lord Bolton under arrest. Regarding his men. those who abandon him and renew their fealty to me will be spared and will merge into other houses men. Those who lift their sword against us will be put to the sword. I trust that you both came armed, as I asked."

"Aye"

"Good, Olyvar!" yelled Robb. His squire appeared at the door of the tent. "Tell Lord Bolton that we have an urgent war council and his presence is requested here."

The three men stood idle with serious expressions. They all knew the consequences about Roose's treason were going to take his toll in the army. They didn't need to wait for long, as Roose arrived shortly after Olyvar had left, accompanied by only two of his men who waited outside the King's tent.

"Your grace, my Lords" said the Lord of the Dreadfort, taking his seat between Lords Umber and Karstark. "If I may inquire, where are the remaining Lords of the council?"

Robb all but ignored his question.

"Lord Bolton, I'm glad you came so quickly. We have much to discuss and the hour is late. I would like this business to end as quickly as possible and you can help me with that"

"And what can I do for you?" asked and intrigued Lord Bolton, his pale eyes fixed on his King.

"I want the truth Lord Bolton, nothing more, nothing less," answered Robb with a blank expression.

"The truth about what, your Grace?"

"About this" answered Robb, handing the letter to him.

Roose took the letter and read. His face, usually an expressionless mask, twisted into something resembling shock, and his pale eyes met Robb's gaze again.

II was dead man since I entered here. thought Roose grimly while leaving the letter flat on top of the wooden table.

But he was a Bolton. A warrior. A thousand years ago, his family had sacked Winterfell and called themselves Kings. Going down without a fight was like spitting at the memory of his ancestors. He took a deep, final breath, then tried to rise and draw his sword, vying to kill at least one of them before dying, but at the very moment his hand touched the hilt, his head was severed from his body by a swift swing of a massive greatsword. The Greatjon Umber, despite his enormous size, was an incredibly fast swordman. Both Bolton guards thundered inside the tent with his swords drawn, but they didn't live for long, as one of them found himself with his skull splitted in half by the Greatjon's sword and the other one got stabbed in the back by Olyvar before he could do any harm.

"It wasn't your right to execute him, Lord Umber," sighed Robb. "Even if he was a traitor, we needed to prove it to our most skeptical lords. And it was my justice to deliver." finished the Wolf King.

"He drew his sword against you, your grace. I was only doing my duty defending you," muttered Lord Umber, lowering his head. Robb sheathed his sword and was mimicked by everyone in the room.

"Wake up your men with discretion. If we're lucky, almost all of the Bolton's will be sleeping by now. Avoid bloodshed where possible and spare all those who surrender. Take his generals as prisoners and put to the sword those who fight back." commanded Robb.

Both lords nodded and left the tent, running to their men.

In less than two hours they had dealt with all of Bolton's men. Of the three and a half thousand who were loyal to the Dreadfort, only five hundred put up a fight or refused to swear fealty to King Robb. Half of the remaining Bolton men were passed to the command of Ronnel Stout and Kyle Condon, and the other half distributed between Lords Karstark, Umber and Robb himself.

At first light, all the lords present in the encampment were summoned to Robb's war tent. Lords Umber, Karstark, Forrester, Flint of Flint's Finger, Ryswell, and Locke of the North, along with Lords Bracken, Blackwood, Tully, Mallister and Piper of the Riverlands. Also present were Theon Greyjoy, Ser Brynden Tully and Lady Dacey Mormont.

The King in the North rose and spoke, silencing the din of the crowd.

"As you are all aware, my lords, this night Roose Bolton was executed for treason against the kingdom of the North and the Trident, along with those of his men who rose up in arms against us." Looking at Lord Ryswell, whose daughter was once married to the deceased lord of the Dreadfort, he continued. "I'm aware that some of you were tied with him to blood, so I will show you why I was compelled to order his death."

He proceeded to read the letter aloud and then explained the chain of events that had led to the climax of last night. Lord Rickard and Lord Umber served as his witnesses, nodding at every one of his words.

"How can you trust a letter before the word of one of your lords? And one as powerful as Lord Bolton. It's outrageous!" exclaimed Lord Ryswell.

"You will talk to your king with the respect he deserves, Lord Ryswell" replied Lord Mallister, gazing at the northern lord.

"We all know the history between houses Bolton and Stark, and all of us are aware of the loyalty that house Frey process to their liege lord and king. We don't know who left the letter, that much is true, but they both had reasons or were greedy enough to do it. Furthermore, if I'm honest with this council, Roose Bolton always unsettled me" added Lord Blackwood, earning nods from almost every present northern in the room. "I support my king in his decision of punishing the traitors, as I find that both the letter and Lord Bolton's reaction are enough proof of his treason" ended the Lord of Raventree Hall.

Unsurprisingly, it was Lord Bracken who talked after Lord Tytos, but for once, he agreed with the Raven Lord. The northern Lords followed suit and the atmosphere calmed down a bit, as no one could discuss those words.

"I thank you for your support in this matter my Lords." responded Robb, thankful for the trust of his bannermen. "I was going to offer Lord Bolton a fair trial in the eyes of gods and men, but he proved guilty at the same moment he drew his sword. A man with a clean conscience has nothing to fear."

The turnmoil started all over again, Northern and Riverlords alike muttering between themselves. It was a matter of minutes before someone asked the obvious next question.

"Your grace, you already punished the Boltons, but what do we do now with the Freys? We can't stay idle while they are a threat at our backs" asked Lord Mallister.

"That's the main reason I summoned you here my lords. At first light I sent a rider to Harrenhal, explaining Lord Glover and Lady Mormont about last night events. She will take half of the garrison and march to the Twins at full speed, leaving Lord Glover in command of our forces in the castle. But should we arrive to the Twins with armies at both sides of the river, the weasels will shut down their gates and rain hell upon us. The main objective of this council is to design an assault plan to avoid as much losses as possible."

The lords argued for a large time, and by the time the sun was high, the battle plan was done. Once the men were ready, they started their slow march to the Twins, where Lord Edmure Tully was supposed to marry.

So here we are! I hope you liked it!

I'll appreciate all the reviews you can leave me

See you soon!