Duty

IVS

"What is it?"

Jon is staring at Robb inquisitively. The two have been sitting in silence for some time. They were supposed to be breaking their fast, but Robb got distracted by a letter delivered to him by Maester Luwin. He's been reading it intently over and over again, eyebrows furrowed as his mind races.

Robb looks up at the sound of Jon's voice and folds the letter, putting it down to the side.

"Nothing," he says, as he picks up his fork and attempts to resume eating, but finds he has suddenly lost his appetite.

Jon sits up properly now. He knows that something is wrong, but he doesn't ask again. Eventually, Robb puts down the fork and balls his fists, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I'm worried," he confesses, "Not one of these letters from King's Landing has mentioned Arya."

"She's a child, maybe they just—"

"They claim to have two Starks," Robb cuts him off sharply, "If that were true, they would make it abundantly clear."

Sansa's letter came shortly after their father's arrest and imprisonment — her script, but clearly the Queen's words. Robb expected to receive parchment covered in Arya's blotchy scrawls not long after, but nothing ever came. It's as if she was never in King's Landing.

Jon is quiet as the implications of Robb's words dawn on him, "They wouldn't harm her."

Robb stares off into the distance as he considers what the Lannisters might be thinking. Everything in him wishes he could know what is happening at King's Landing.

"No, I don't think they would," he finally mutters, briefly rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, "Not after Father."

At least that is what he is choosing to believe. What he has to believe in order to keep hold of any sanity that remains in him.

He's tired. Exhausted beyond comprehension. He barely sleeps at night because the thoughts in his head never quiet. There is always something that needs to be done, something that needs attending to, both at Winterfell and at the frontlines.

It's getting to be too much.

Robb sighs heavily and stands up suddenly. "Please, don't speak a word of this to anyone. I don't want Mother to worry," he says as he walks away, "I need to think."

***

More bad news.

A raven from the South carrying a stern rejection from Stannis Baratheon of Robb's offer of allyship. Robb expected as much, but a part of him had hoped that the old man would put his pride aside and choose to stand with the North.

"He must be confident that he can defeat the Lannister army in battle," Maester Luwin suggests. There is no such explanation in the short scroll.

"Whatever it is," Robb says through gritted teeth as he balls up the piece of paper in his hand, "It doesn't help us."

He walks over to his desk and sits down, his knuckles pressed together under his chin. His mind is racing.

"What happens if Stannis usurps the throne? Will you bend the knee?"

Robb looks up at Maester Luwin with hard eyes and sets his jaw. "The North will never again bend the knee to a Southern king. Not while I live."

A look of pride quickly crosses Maester Luwin's face. Their conversation is interrupted when Catelyn enters, unaware that her son is not alone.