Bringing the Dawn

XXXIV.

Robb Stark

The Northern Camp near Riverrun, 300AC

Praise was something that was not new to him at all. It was something he had gotten ever since he could remember, probably from the moment he had been pulled from his mother. It was always a celebratory event when someone high in succession was born. Despite this, Robb could say with certainty he hated praise. When he was growing up, all he ever heard was how he was a lot like his father. This kind, he did not mind in the slightest, being incredibly honoured to be compared to someone like Lord Eddard Stark. A man who had no choice but to fill his older brother's boots when the Mad King had them both executed.

His eyes trailed a little to the other male standing a little to the side alongside Arthur, the pair talking quietly with one another and throwing glances over their shoulders in case anyone overheard. A small pit of anger forming within because Arthur knew what had occurred but said or did nothing. He knew his anger wasn't placed correctly, but there was no one else he could possibly be angry over for not interfering. Jaeron and Arthur were distantly related through Queen Dyanna who had been wed to King Maekar. The same way he was distantly related to Ser Oswell Whent who had been struck down by his own father through his Whent grandmother.

He'd never known Minisa Tully, her dying not long after Edmure had been born. His mother opting not to talk about her often because she didn't like dwelling on the past. Something she shared with Eddard and possibly one of the first things they had in common with one another. Apart from these two Knight's, only two were still alive. One recently being dismissed from the Kingsguard by Joffrey Waters and the other in a cage on the outskirts of their camp. Robb's fingers tightened around the pommel of his sword. Whilst it wasn't Ice, it was still the finest steel one could get that wasn't Valyrian steel. Whilst it was expected of him to carry his family's sword, it was simply too large for regular battle. The only person who could perhaps carry it was Jon Umber. Not that they could get it as Ice was in the capital.

Everywhere he walked, someone was congratulating him on the victory. Out of courtesy, he dipped his head and accepted it, but on the inside he didn't care for it in the slightest. There was only one thing on his mind currently. He'd taken his first life in battle today. Ever since his father had left to go south more than a year ago, he'd had one beheading. Then, he had felt it was justified and it didn't haunt him much. An oath was an oath, and laws need to be followed. In the south, something may have been offered, but the North was different. They were raised with tradition and respect, something not many southerners were taught. The blood of the Kings of Winter flowed through his veins just as much as blood of Rivers did. Two areas separated by the swamplands of the Neck but two areas that had similar ideals.

Today though, the lives he had taken did not feel justified. He had lost count after the tenth, being far too caught up in keeping track of his whereabouts and keeping an eye on all sides of him. Dodging, parrying, jumping over the bodies of the fallen, and trying to ignore the lingering scent of blood, piss, and shit. He'd heard it from his own men that many died whilst relieving themselves, but he had thought it to be a rumour. Now, he knew it was one of the statements of truth that was common with Northerner's. How many people had he landed the final hit on with his sword had simply been ordered to fight and didn't want to? How many of them had families that were now missing a member? It was something that was going to weigh heavy on him, and this was only the first battle. Whilst it was a roaring victory, he couldn't deny that it didn't feel like it was one.

"What's on your mind?"

His eyes widened momentarily at the thick Dornish accent, spinning on his heel to be faced with Arthur and only noticing now he was in his own tent. Had he been so lost in his thoughts that he had completely blanked everything out on his way here? The flap had been closed much to his relief meaning he didn't need to worry about anyone overhearing.