The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ROBB - XIII

ROBB WAS SURE he had never ridden so fast in his life. After a night of ceaseless travel, he galloped full speed into the camp at midday. "Where is she?" He hardly recognised his voice, how he roared his panic. "Where is my wife?"

Among the men who hurried to steady his horse as he leapt off, flocking around him, was Lady Mormont. "She's returned. Dacey led the rescue party."

"I must see her."

"She is resting now, Your Grace," Karstark tersely informed him. "You have far more urgent matters to attend to."

He came to an abrupt stop, wheeling around to face the man. "More urgent than seeing to the wellbeing of my wife? What else could there be? Has the Kingslayer not been recaptured ?"

The two shared a nervous look. "He has," Mormont cautiously began, "but, er... the situation got out of hand."

"What does that mean?"

—

He burst into his mother's tent with enough force to elicit a gasp from her. She remained seated at her desk, frozen stiff. "Tell me this isn't true," he pleaded. Gingerly, she looked up at him. It was answer enough. "Why?"

She wet her lips. Still, she did not stand. "For the girls."

Even with her confession, it was impossible to believe. She had released Jaime Lannister. After everything he had done, it made no sense. More than that, it hurt. "You betrayed me."

"Robb—"

"No! You knew I would not allow it and you did it anyway."

To his chagrin, she did not seem remorseful in the least. "Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell. Sansa and Arya are captives in King's Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free."

Behind him, Lord Karstark growled, "I lost two sons fighting by your son's side. I lost my nephew to the Kingslayer, strangled with a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the Father if he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell."

There was something concerning in the way she looked at the man, almost as if she was afraid of him. For what reason, Robb did not know. Nor did he care at present. She tried to ease his anger. "I grieve for your sons, my lord—"

"I don't want your grief. I want my vengeance. And you stole it from me."

Her fear turned to cold resentment. "Killing Jaime Lannister would not buy life for your children, but returning him to King's Landing may buy life for mine."

Somewhere, buried deep in his subconscious, a part of Robb wondered if she had done the right thing. His sisters had been lost to them for months. Perhaps this was the key. He just as quickly silenced the thought. There was no chance that it would work. What she had done was not only stupid but dangerous. "Jaime Lannister has played you for a fool. You've weakened our position. You've brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back." That hurt him most of all. If she had only consulted him, they could have found a solution. He rose his voice and called for the soldiers outside to hear, "Make sure she's guarded day and night."

"Robb," she pleaded, rising from her seat.

He did not entertain any further excuses. Storming out, he paused by the entrance, where Lord Bolton lurked. "How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?"

"Forty, Your Grace."

"Send another forty with our fastest horses."

She called out for him again. As much as it pained him, he ignored her. His mother had always been a tad overzealous in her desire to protect her children. Her capturing of Tyrion had been foolish, but this had crossed a line even he could not forgive.