Chapter Text
She woke up to the sound of fists battering down her door. Dacey groaned next to her as she removed her arms from where they had been wrapped around her. Robyn immediately hated the loss of contact and stifled a slight whine that was building in the back of her throat. She was acting Lady Paramount and Lady Paramounts did not whine. With a grumble of annoyance, she slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in a sleeping robe on top of her nightgown. Dacey was behind her quickly trying to find her own sleeping attire that currently littered the floor. Her intention had been to wait to open the door until Dacey had dressed herself, but the urgency of the knocks forced her hand, so she opened the door as her sworn shield hid behind a divider in the corner of the room as she dressed.
“Apologies for the disturbance, my lady,” Alaric Strong said. “There’s a situation that requires a hasty reply.”
The departure of Vayon Poole had been one of the harder spots to fill due to his years of diligent service and competency. Most of the people who Robyn vetted to become her steward in Master Poole’s absence had been competent enough even if somewhat lacking in any number of areas. Alaric Strong, a high ranking magister in the Merchant Guild had ended up being the only one to impress her. Robyn didn’t actually know if he was at all related to the famous and extinct House Strong, but she supposed it was entirely possible. Ser Lucamore Strong had fathered enough children for it to work and the Strongs had been one of the more distinctly traditional First Men families south of the neck, often marrying themselves to others of First Man descent or to Northern families. So it was a distinct possibility that Alaric was the real thing and that House Strong lived primarily out of White Harbor as merchants now that their fortunes had fallen so low.
And ultimately it didn’t particularly matter if he was the actual article, a member of a bastard line that had reclaimed the use of the name, or if he or a family member had lied about their origins. She mainly wanted him for his experience, economic expertise, and to secure the loyalty of the Merchant’s Guild.
Alaric stood tall above her, though that was hardly surprising with how short Robyn was. His face was grave and solemn, which did not bode well for whatever had been so important as to wake her up so early.
“What time is it? What could possibly be so important?” She asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
“It’s the hour of the nightingale, my lady. Maester Luwin will explain more in your solar, but my understanding is that Lady Dustin sent an emergency missive,” Alaric said grimly.
Buggering hells. “Alright. Lead the way.”
Dacey lightly ran up behind them as they made their way down the hall, having apparently found her nightgown somewhere in their chambers. Robyn glanced up at her with a slightly worried expression. It did not reassure her that Dacey shared her look. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Ser Domeric, and her mother were already inside and drinking tea. Robyn shuffled over to the chair behind the desk and sat down in it while Dacey quickly poured her some tea before moving to stand directly behind her.
“What’s the issue that requires all of us to wake up so early?” Robyn asked as she sipped at her tea.
“Lady Dustin says that the Cerwyns and Tallharts have claimed that their rightful lands are being occupied and have sent in bannerless raiding parties to pillage the Barrowlands,” Luwin sighed.
“Are they truly trying to break the King’s Peace?” Domeric frowned. “That seems ill advised, even for them.”
Robyn drummed her fingers on the desk. “You said that they were bannerless, yes?”
“Yes my lady,” Maester Luwin nodded.
“So they’re likely going to claim that it was a rogue part of their household that started raiding without their permission. Brilliant,” Robyn noted.
Ser Rodrik nodded. “That does seem likely, my lady. Though if I may be so bold, I do not think that they actually care about the land in as much as they have ulterior strategic motives.”
That thought had occurred to her as well. “Agreed. This is likely a test as much as it is about grabbing plunder.”
Her mother nodded. “You’ll need to be careful here. Too harsh and they call you a tyrant for overreacting to so called ‘rogue’ raiders. Too light and they’ll know they can walk all over you.”
“And that’s only the first thing they are testing me on,” Robyn sighed before taking another long drink of her tea. “A far more clever scheme than it ought to be.”
Domeric frowned again. “I believe I understand that they are trying to see how much they can get away with now that Lord Stark is in the south, but what is this about another part of the test?”
“They’re testing my resolve to my allies,” Robyn explained. “If I do not react appropriately I alienate an ally, not to mention raids weaken the Dustins in terms of resources and money. Everything burned is something that will take time, men, and money to repair. Every smallfolk killed is one less person that can tend to the fields, work in the mines, create things, or raise arms in support of myself when the banners are called and the levies are raised. Lady Dustin will likely push me into taking a hard stance against the Cerwyns and Tallharts, but if I go too hard, I’m a tyrant. I suppose technically it’s the same test, even if there are just different layers to what they are testing.”
“Ah. Yes, I see now,” Domeric muttered as he furrowed his brow in thought.
She wondered what Father would do in this situation. A vague voice in her mind that sounded just like him cautioned her against rash judgements, though that was a particularly unhelpful suggestion. Obviously Robyn had no desire to spring the trap or to create an even worse political situation for herself, but this was a brazen scheme that something did have to be done immediately to keep everyone in line.
“Do we know the order of events?” Robyn asked suddenly.
Maester Luwin arched a curious eyebrow. “My lady?”
“Do we know what happened first? Did the raiders made up of so called rogue Cerwyn and Tallhart men launch their attacks into the Barrowlands before or after Lord Medger and Master Helman announced that Lady Dustin was unjustly holding their rightful lands?” Robyn said as she continued drumming her fingers on her desk, her mind racing through the possibilities. The order of events had the possibility of being the exact evidence needed to prove conspiracy. If the raiders went out before the claim was made, then it meant that they knew about the raiders and still tried to take advantage of the situation anyways. If the raiders went out after the claim was made, then it was important to determine why her esteemed vassals here did not immediately submit themselves to arbitration as soon as it looked like they could be implicated in violating the King’s Peace.
Maester Luwin looked back at the letter. “It does not say. I’m sure if we ask Lady Dustin we can get to the bottom of this.”
Robyn bit her lip. “Right. Ser Rodrik, you are to raise a host and search for Master Tallhart’s allegedly rogue raiders and put them down. Deliver the heads of those involved to Master Tallhart, where you will give him a list of demands. Ser Domeric, you are to do the same but for the Cerwyns. Maester Luwin, send a raven to Lady Dustin requesting an explanation for a detailed timeline of events.”
“What demands do you wish for us to deliver, my lady?” Ser Domeric asked.
“Maester Luwin, if you could please make several copies of the following?”
The old Maester nodded as he pulled out a parchment and a quill.
“House Tallhart and House Cerwyn are to immediately renounce all claims to the disputed lands. They shall pay in restitution to Lady Dustin five times the value of the land, resources, and lives destroyed or taken by these raiders, for they are responsible for the actions of their men. Additionally, each man shall submit themselves to house arrest and be escorted promptly to Winterfell at which time we should have heard back from Lady Dustin and determine if anything more final will be required regarding their persons,” she paused as she gnawed a little on her bottom lip. “Any further ‘rogue’ actions will be laid squarely at their feet and they shall forfeit their lives. I believe that should be sufficient for now.”
“Five times the amount could cause difficulties,” Alaric Strong noted. “Depending on the amount damaged and stolen, of course. But that might come across as being on the harsher end of the spectrum. It could very well leave either of them near destitute.”
Robyn raised an eyebrow. “I should hope so. It does not do to let anyone think that this type of behavior is lucrative or permissible. This way we reassert Winterfell’s authority, slap down this attempt to test my resolve, and figuratively geld the Tallharts and Cerwyns.”
Alaric bowed his head. “A wise course, my lady.”
“If that is everything, then you three,” she indicated toward Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and Ser Domeric. “Are dismissed. Mother, Master Strong. I have a different matter for the two of you to collaborate on.”
Luwin, Rodrik, and Domeric shuffled out, the latter two immediately moving into discussing who each of them wanted to take on their expeditions. Alaric moved and sat down in one of the vacated chairs.
“On my name day a fortnight back, it occurred to me that while Lord Hornwood is gone from his lands, we cannot determine the provenance of those that remain behind there. If we are to ensure that everything remains how it should be in the event of the stability of the North declining, it would be good to make a list of people that are truly loyal, those that are loyal to the house but not to us in particular, and those who are in the pay of others. Obviously neither of you can help particularly with the Hornwood, so I have already asked Lords Bolton and Manderly to have their own spies determine lists and to remove anyone of suspect loyalty and to install new loyalists. But, it does occur to me that with the influx of new staff after Father’s departure, it would be good to investigate the loyalty of everyone here and to divide them into groups of those we can trust, those we know can be bought, and those we suspect of being spies,” Robyn explained, sipping at her tea as she gauged their reactions.
There was a part of her that feared she was being overly cautious and paranoid, that the emptiness of Winterfell with so many familiar faces having gone south was impacting her judgement. Her most trustworthy ladies assured her that she was being practical, but she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that perhaps she was just overreacting.
“That seems perfectly reasonable. It doesn’t hurt to be too careful,” her mother nodded.
“Aye, that can be done. There are a few people that I’ve been meaning to have a talk with about their performance anyways, so this can be justified as a general check on the competency of the new staff. What would you like us to do with these lists?” Alaric asked.
“For now? Simply reassign them away from any areas of importance and keep lists of them ready. I’d prefer to not reveal to the Umbers and their allies that we know about their spies. They can be dealt with later when we don’t have to risk showing our hand too quickly. The worst offenders we can subtly remove for some reason or another and replace them with an actually trustworthy sort,” Robyn decided.
Alaric bowed his head in acquiescence. “As you command, my lady. Lady Catelyn, we can talk later.”
“I look forward to it, Master Strong,” her mother said politely as the large hulking man left the room, leaving just Robyn, her mother, and Dacey.
Her sworn shield stepped forward and rested a hand on Robyn’s shoulder, prompting the future Lady of Winterfell to almost collapse into the touch.
“You did well,” her mother said softly. “How are you holding up?”
Robyn sighed as she reached up and grabbed Dacey’s hand for comfort, ignoring her mother’s narrowed, knowing eyes. “Tired, frustrated, trying to resist my every urge to just snap and lose my temper.”
Mother chuckled lightly. “Perfectly understandable. As I said, you’re conducting yourself well. I’m very proud of you, although I am somewhat worried about the harshness of your punishment on the Cerwyns and Tallharts. This will ensure that they remain reliant on the other houses aligned with the Umbers to keep themselves afloat.”
“I couldn’t very well just chide them and let them go,” Robyn said drily.
“Of course not, but the cycle of vengeance will only make tensions worse if you go too harshly on them.”
Robyn bit back the urge to snarkily point out that in case she hadn’t noticed, the Cerwyns and Tallharts had violated the King’s Peace, to which there really was just one recourse. But she knew that her mother understood this perfectly and that she wasn’t saying it out of any naivety or ignorance. She’d probably been sitting on this since the meeting had started, but had declined to say anything until now so as to not undermine her authority. Her mother was always her biggest advocate and so she shouldn’t get churlish and sarcastic at her due to frustration.
“What do you recommend?” Robyn asked.
“What’s done is done with the restitution. But when the time comes and they arrive in Winterfell, send Master Tallhart and Lord Cerwyn to the Wall if they are provably guilty of breaking the King’s Peace,” her mother said before continuing at Robyn’s raised eyebrow. “There is less cause for their heirs to rally as hard against you if you don’t kill them and instead let them preserve their life and dignity at the Wall. If you kill them, their heirs will be honor bound and likely grief bound into doing everything they can to oppose you.”
“The other members of their families will push them to do that anyways, we will not win them as friends to our cause by granting their fathers mercy,” Robyn pointed out.
Her mother shook her head. “Obviously their courses are set, but you need not make such a big target of yourself with pointless killing. Mayhaps by sparing their lord there might be people within Cerwyn and Tallhart lands that wish to do what’s best and mitigate hostilities, mayhaps they’ll even be willing to aid us in swiftly occupying their lands to prevent further hardship. That is eliminated if we force their hand by making them honor bound into opposing you.”
Yes, that was all a fair point, as much as she hated to admit it. In Robyn’s mind, the problem was ultimately that mercy could potentially damage her reputation just as easily. But she couldn’t very well deny that her mother’s arguments had merit, nor could she deny the voice in the back of her mind that sounded like her father telling her to keep mercy within her heart.
“I will give them the option of the Wall or the Block,” Robyn finally conceded. “I cannot fully take execution off the table, but I can give them that simple choice.”
That earned her a softened smile from her mother. “That’s all I can ask that you do. Will you break your fast up here or down in the Great Hall?”
Robyn blinked in mild surprise at the change of questions, but a rumble in her stomach brought her back to reality. “I’ll eat in the Great Hall with everyone else. I can only afford lunch in the solar, otherwise the rumors will start indicating I’ve become a recluse.”
Her mother chuckled. “Then I shall see you soon.”
It really didn’t come as much of a surprise that one of the biggest changes in her daily schedule was that she could no longer take as many breaks or waste time with her ladies. She had known that it was an inevitability as the acting Lady of Winterfell, but there was a part of her that didn’t quite expect just how little time she had to herself. Her mornings were spent preparing for court, whether that was her ladies dressing her and putting her make up on, reading the itinerary of who was coming to petition her that day, interrogating the concerns of the servant selected for the day to dine with them, making sure that Raya was behaving herself, and scheming with her mother. Though perhaps scheming wasn’t quite the right word, it was nothing so nefarious as to warrant that descriptor. Perhaps it was closer to strategizing. It was helpful to get reminded of other options she could pursue to resolve an issue or when enacting justice. Robyn could admit that her own sense of justice and honor had been shaped by the constant struggle to assert herself and to legitimize herself as someone who could hold the North together with more than just military prowess as all past Starks had done. Her father’s sense of honor and justice had been massively shaped by his time in the Vale and it seemed to work at keeping everyone in line, so her mother’s Riverlander sensibilities seemed a close approximation.
Upon the conclusion of breakfast, the Great Hall was transformed into a proper court and Robyn took her place sitting upon the throne at the back of the room. Courtiers would line themselves off to the side and her advisors would stand around her next to the throne. Dacey would always stand behind her in full chainmail and with a sword and a morningstar attached to either hip. Her ladies flanked her either side, watching the petitioners like a hawk while Domeric stood off to the side in his red kaftan, waiting for Robyn’s command. It was an odd collection she had with her by the throne.
When court adjourned for the day she retreated to her father’s solar to read and respond to letters, missives, and other offerings. There she would eat lunch while going through her correspondence and handling various affairs of state whether they be administrative minutiae, writing and granting permits, or discussing politics with one of her allies. Her ladies would invariably drop by for a while as she worked to inform her of various happenings or just to make sure she wasn’t giving herself gray hairs by focusing on her duties too much.
Eventually dinner would come and Dacey would drag her back down to the Great Hall to ensure that she was eating properly and for her to play the role of hostess as she ought to. She rarely got to enjoy casual conversation during dinners as this was always among the best opportunities to do politics in a less overt way, not to mention that she had to carry on her father’s tradition of a new servant each day sharing a seat at the table with them so that the Lord can stay apprised of what is happening in the realm. After dinner finished, Dacey and her ladies would physically restrain her from heading back up to her solar. Instead, Robyn would head to the godswood and pray for a while, seeking guidance from the old gods and praying for the safety of her family so far south. After that it often varied for what she would do for the rest of the evening. Sometimes it meant playing with Raya and Shaggydog, other times it was sharing mulled wine with her ladies as musicians played in the background. Her favorite way to spend the evening, however, was to spend time in the sauna with Dacey. Sometimes it would just be the two of them while other times her ladies would join them and enjoy the relaxation. Eventually she and Dacey would retire for the night and enjoy some alone time together before falling asleep. The cycle would repeat each day and Robyn found herself adapting to it rather easily. It had hardly felt like much time had passed since the King had gone south with her father, but in truth it had been months.
Apparently after what sounded like a gruelingly slow pace, the King and his court had finally made it back to King’s Landing and enough time had passed for the letters to start coming in to keep her up to date. Father had described finding a Braavosi water dancer to teach Arya how to sword fight. From what she could recall of an old sword training manual she had read many years back, that meant focusing on speed and balance as well as quick probing attacks rather than anything that necessarily required great strength, which seemed like a good fit for Arya.
Barba had taken to her duties as a lady in waiting for Myrcella rather well, which did not come as a surprise. Sansa’s letters were scant when it came to what it was she was actually doing on a daily basis, though Robyn could safely surmise that it primarily involved lessons with the Septas and spending time with the Prince, who was the subject of the bulk of each of her letters. Robyn wasn’t particularly enjoying having to read about how brave and caring Joffrey was, but she could at least take some comfort in Sansa clearly being happy with her circumstances. If the positions had been reversed, Robyn was certain she'd be utterly miserable.
It seemed that Father had decided to appoint Jon to the City Watch. The mental image of him having to wear bright colors was endlessly amusing, though thus far that had been about it in terms of the positives of the situation. Jon didn’t seem too happy about it. Apparently he had been under the assumption that it would be rather prestigious but instead it was filled with a bunch of corrupt bullies and thugs, though he at least had the good fortune to be serving under Ser Jacelyn Bywater of the River Gate, who Jon praised as being a rare man of honor in the entirety of the Goldcloaks. At least he seemed to be making friends through the various squires he drank with during the King’s visit. Frustratingly, he was about as good as Sansa at actually putting in any details in his letters, which led to her ranting more than once to Dacey about it. Was it really so hard to write to her? Renly’s letters were far more enjoyable as they were filled with political intrigues and his telltale humor, at least. So far they had mostly been keeping one another up to date on the political situations in their respective parts of Westeros as well as various pieces of gossip they had heard.
It had been at least a fortnight and a half since she’d sent Domeric and Ser Rodrik out to deal with the Cerwyn and Tallhart issue. Last she’d heard both bands of rogue raiders had been put down and the survivors given to the ministrations of sharp questioners over the nature of their orders, though she’d yet to hear anything back from that line of inquiry. Which wasn’t unexpected, it took a good bit of time to get to the Dreadfort where Lord Roose had volunteered to extract the information with a disturbing amount of glee. Robyn tried her best to not think about Lord Roose’s methods otherwise she might get cold feet and abandon that aspect of the plan.
Most of today's proceedings had thus far been on the more tedious end of things. It wasn’t that settling a dispute on the price of iron ore shipments and getting a handle on several issues with unreliable transportation from White Harbor to Karlon’s Point for said iron ore wasn’t important as it absolutely was. Karlon’s Point, the largest town in Karstark lands, had a particular interest in the processing of cheap iron for the sake of maintaining the copper and silver mines in the area. So it obviously was of interest to Lord Karstark, therefore it was of interest to Alys, and therefore it was of interest to Robyn. That did not make the argument between the White Knife Caravan Company and the Karlon’s Point Guild of Miners any less boring.
Even her mother and Maester Luwin were struggling to maintain focus as the two Magisters bickered. Her ladies looked half asleep where they stood. Only Alaric Strong was able to maintain a stoic mask out of her advisors, but she was rather sure that Alaric’s resolve was only maintained due to practice from his years with the Merchant Guild.
“If the Guild of Miners had not bit off more than they could handle with current employment numbers and the number of contracts they had taken out with their vendors, then this subtle rise in price would be nothing,” Magister Arnolf scoffed.
“Bold words coming from the company that managed to lose a quarter of their fleet in a gambling mishap!” Magister Morgan thundered.
Robyn resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose as she had no desire to smudge her makeup at all even if she was rather sure it was dry by this point. She raised a hand into the air, the sun catching on the rings across all of her fingers, save her thumb. The two bickering magisters fell into silence.
“Hold. What is this about a gambling mishap?” Robyn asked, holding her courtly mask in place as she levelled Magister Arnolf with an unimpressed glare.
The magister at least had the dignity to blush. “It was an unfortunate matter, but it is hardly relevant—”
“I believe you will find that I determine what is or is not relevant. What happened?” She said warningly.
“A few of our captains were in Gulltown and managed to get into a bet with a Braavosi trading company and to up the stakes, they bet their ships for a duration of six months to the winner. They… er… lost,” Magister Arnolf explained sheepishly.
Robyn stared at him in mild disbelief. “And you said this was a full quarter of your ships?”
“...Yes my lady.”
“Did you not think to petition Lord Manderly or myself to either intervene on your behalf with the Braavosi?” Robyn asked drily.
“...No, my lady.”
“Did you seek Lord Manderly out for aid in asking the Shipwright’s Guild in building replacements? If that is the cause of the increase in price then I am more than happy to reimburse the costs out of pocket to bring down the price of your services.”
She paused for a moment as her frown grew. “Wait a moment, how big is your trade fleet even supposed to be? Aren’t you a caravan company? Why did you invest so much in ships?”
“Er… well, the previous size of our fleet was eight ships strong—”
Before Robyn could respond, the main doors to the Great Hall opened with Ser Rodrik and Ser Domeric pulling along two of her lords in fetters.
“My lady! We have brought your errant vassals back to you,” Ser Domeric boldly proclaimed.
Ser Rodrik grinned as he pushed Master Tallhart forward. The two guildmen quickly shuffled off to the side as men-at-arms grabbed the two would-be schemers and dragged them before the throne. Around her her advisors stirred themselves back to life. She suppressed a pang of resentment at the fact that all of them had the luxury of not having to pay attention to the previous dispute. Oh gods she was going to have to deal with it again later…
“You certainly know how to make a dramatic entrance, Ser Domeric,” Robyn said with amusement. “I must thank the pair of you, Ser Domeric and Ser Rodrik, my brave, brave knights.”
“The honor is ours, my lady,” Ser Rodrik said proudly.
Domeric glanced up toward Alys, who seemed relieved that Domeric was alright. It would still be some time until they were to wed, but it pleased Robyn greatly that those two had managed to become fast friends in the months since the betrothal. The mere thought of one of her closest friends getting foisted into an unhappy marriage sickened her.
She turned her gaze away from her brave knights and levelled her errant vassals with a look of disappointment.
“Lord Medger, Master Helman, it greatly displeases me to see you here like this. You stand accused of violating the King’s Peace, the slaughter of smallfolk, theft, and destruction of property. I currently see little reason to not have the pair of you beheaded and have hostages taken to ensure cooperation with your heirs. For what possible reason should I not do exactly that? What say you in your defense?” She asked, pushing an icy tone into her voice.
Lord Medger tried to adjust his rubakha and stand, but a man-at-arms swiftly pushed him back into a kneeling position.
“You will show proper deference to Lady Stark,” the man-at-arms said gruffly.
“My apologies. Lord Eddard often had the accused stand on their own two feet so that he may look them in the eye,” Lord Medger said.
Robyn, in a brief pang of internal panic, couldn’t actually remember if her father did that or not, but she couldn’t second guess herself. “Lord Stark is not here. It is helpful, I think, to remind the accused of who they are accountable to and who they are at the mercy of. Now, how do you defend the aforementioned charges?”
“Neither of us violated the King’s Peace. Those were loyal men who misunderstood our intentions after our discovery of the documents verifying our rightful ownership of those lands. We had every intention of seeking out proper mediation for the land, but obviously that fell to the wayside when some of our men went rogue,” Lord Medger explained.
Robyn’s face remained impassive as she drummed her fingers on the armrest of the throne, her rings clicking and echoing off the polished stone. “Rather convenient, is it not that both you and Master Helman found these documents at the same time? Did they both fall out of the same book they had been shoved in? Tell me, as soon as you realized your men had acted without your consent, why did you not raise your men to put them down immediately?”
Lord Medger hesitated. “The second matter is easy enough to explain, my lady. There were concerns that since it was men that had long been loyal, that the other men might hesitate to raise arms up against them. They may have been friends or kinsmen. It was a matter of ensuring that our orders could be trusted to be followed through, and with that lack of clarity it was all too easy to fall to indecision. As to the first matter, I cannot speak for Master Helman—”
“Oh? Can you not? You’ve done rather well speaking for the pair of you up until now,” Robyn snarked.
She heard a few snickers and suppressed chuckles from behind her and from the amassed audience.
“It appears that the deeds were simply misplaced and while doing an inventory of our old records for an unrelated matter, we found them in the pages of an old ledger book. Once we found them and had them verified, we planned to submit them to your ladyship, but then the rogue raiders went out and—”
She raised her hand again and Lord Medger fell into silence. “Do you take me for a fool, my lord? I have confirmation from Lady Dustin that you and Master Helman made public declarations of your rightful ownership of her lands. Am I supposed to believe that you made these declarations instead of petitioning Winterfell, the declarations were made purely innocently, and that these rogues in your ranks formed a raiding party completely randomly? That this is some sort of series of bizarre misunderstandings and coincidences?”
“Er… well, that is to say… yes public declarations were made after consulting with Master Helman, who was in a similar situation—”
Robyn slapped the head of the stone direwolf jutting out of the front of the armrest of the throne. Pain raced through her hand, though it was almost entirely secondary to the sharp ache forming behind her eyes.
“How could I forget? You and Helman bloody Tallhart had the same exact miraculous set of circumstances with finding long lost deeds at the same buggering time and then, somehow, by writ of magic perhaps, you both had previously loyal men go out and break the King’s Peace. Entirely coincidentally, I am sure. Or am I misunderstanding the order of events? Did you both entirely and purely coincidentally declare that Lady Dustin was illegally holding your rightful lands and then these magic brigands appeared out of thin air and attacked Lady Dustin?” Robyn glowered, using all of her restraint to keep herself from snapping and demanding their heads here and now for lying to her so blatantly.
“We made the declarations, my lady, then the men acted without consent,” Master Helman interjected.
Robyn leveled him with one of her best impressions of what her father looked like while furious. “Master Helman! Thank you for finally joining us! I see you’ve found your tongue at long last. Leave it somewhere? Up Lord Umber’s arse, perhaps?”
There were a few guffaws and strangled chuckles in the audience. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother tense. In retrospect, it might have been better to keep her temper and tongue in check. She remembered this from the countless lectures her father had given her over the years. The wolf blood, he said it was called. Apparently her Uncle Brandon and her Aunt Lyanna had a terrible problem with it, carried by their stubbornness, defiance, and explosive tempers. Father had always seen something of his dead brother and dead sister in her, having warned her countless times of the wolf blood. She liked to think that she’d managed to suppress it over the years, that she’d left that old version of herself that dreamed of being a warrior and dashing conqueror long behind her. But then she had her moments of losing her temper and it felt so very hard to remember her father’s words of restraint and her mother’s pleas for using mercy to keep these two in line.
“What even was it that you two got out of this absurdly foolish scheme? I understand Lord Umber is testing my strength as a ruler and likely means to make me to be a tyrant, but how is it that he managed to get the both of you to risk your lives like this? The only way that you get out of this alive would be if—” She paused abruptly as it clicked into place. “No, the expectation wasn’t for me to be a tyrant, the thought would be that I’d send the pair of you to the Wall but you’d somehow never reach it and then quietly find your way back home. Then you’d receive full exonerations when I’m overthrown. You two thought I’d undermine my own authority and reap the benefits down the line when Lord Umber made his move to overthrow me.”
The grimace on Master Tallhart’s face and the pained expression on Lord Medger’s was the exact confirmation she needed. There was something almost disappointing about all of this.
“Quite amusing how I’m both a tyrant and a ditherer, according to your lot,” Robyn said snidely. “Maester Luwin!”
“Yes my lady?” He replied.
“Send a letter to the Hand of the King, relating to him the situation, the contradictory testimony, and uneven levels of evidence asking him for advice on how to handle the situation. In the meantime, since guilt or innocence in this matter cannot truly be ascertained until we have overturned every corner of this matter including a full investigation into how these previously loyal men magically became brigands, Ser Rodrik! Please escort Master Helman and Lord Medger to the dungeons.”
“Right away, my lady,” Maester Luwin bowed his head dutifully.
Ser Rodrik nodded gruffly at the men-at-arms. “Seize them.”
Her errant vassals looked at her with alarm as mailed fists grabbed them and lifted them harshly to their feet.
“My lady! Please!”
“You have left me with no choice. Since the truth of the matter cannot be ascertained, the restitution your houses must pay will stand and you two will have to wait until a verdict is made. If you’d rather hasten the process, however, you are free to request a trial by combat,” Robyn said nonchalantly.
“My lady, we are innocent!”
“Then you should have nothing to fear as you wait for my lord father’s judgement or you may see if the gods agree to your claims of innocence and save everyone the headache of sorting through this mess,” she gave them a wolfish grin, hoping for once that it came across as harsh and unhinged as it often did.
They seethed in silence as they were dragged out and the Great Hall descended into furious whispers. Her mother, her ladies, Domeric, and Dacey all moved to surround her.
“What just happened?” Wylla asked with a frown.
Robyn nursed her now moderately swollen hand and winced through the pain. “I believe that they deliberately created such a confusing mess of a situation with the intent that I would not be able to slap down on it as harshly as they suspect I want to since I cannot actually prove that they deliberately broke the King’s peace, not enough to do so with any certainty. So my option would be to send them to the Wall, at which point they’d disappear mysteriously before reaching Castle Black, leaving me looking weak and foolish. Then, when the Umbers make their move, Tallhart and Cerwyn would be able to take back over their lands and get pardoned when the Umbers install Brandon.”
“And by keeping them here you can make it clear that you’re taking the issue seriously while not being seen as overreacting to flimsy evidence or by sending them to the Wall where they can be freed,” Alys summarized.
The future Lady of Winterfell grinned before feeling deeply self conscious and forcing it from her face. “Exactly. Doesn’t solve the problem, but it does mean we have time. You were definitely right, Mother, to caution for mercy. I suspect that while letting them go to the Wall would undoubtedly have been what they wanted, executing them on the spot might have caused just as many problems. Half of the North already thinks I’m a tyrant, I don’t think a legally confusing affair would help matters.”
Her mother smiled at her. “You should go get your hand examined.”
“I have far too much to do—”
“Let us handle it, Robyn. That is what you have advisors for, is it not?” Her mother said pointedly. “I know a thing or two about holding court, you have nothing to fear.”
That was a fair point. Mother had plenty of experience from Riverrun when she was younger, if there was anyone here she could trust with being able to keep up with the careful maneuvering needed for her plans, it would be her mother. Robyn sighed in surrender as she pushed herself off the throne. She hissed in pain as she applied pressure to her hand and felt a wave of dizziness hit her as she stumbled into Dacey’s arms.
“Robyn!” Meera called out as she reached over and helped steady her.
“I’m alright, I’m alright. Hand hurts, apparently slapping stone is a poor idea,” Robyn grumbled.
Dacey looked at her sharply. “When was the last time you had anything to drink?”
She didn’t meet her lover’s eyes.
“Mother have mercy…” her own mother grumbled as she looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Dacey, escort Robyn to Maester Luwin’s chambers. Ladies, go track down a pitcher of ice water for her to drink and find someone to draw her a hot bath.”
“Mother…” Robyn pouted as she felt Dacey wrap her arms tight around her, ostensibly to keep her standing upright. She only got a harsh glare in return, which only made her melt further into Dacey.
“Fine, fine. Make sure to have someone make notes of all the rest of the petitioners and what you decide!” Robyn grumbled as Dacey started pushing her out of the room.
Her mother dramatically rolled her eyes as her ladies giggled. Once they were in the hall Robyn laid her head against the side of Dacey’s chest.
“Head hurting, little wolf?” Her sworn shield asked quietly.
Robyn hummed in agreement, not wanting to shake her head too much by nodding.
“I can’t believe you slapped a piece of stone.”
The future Lady Paramount of all the North pouted at that. “I was angry and wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get their attention.”
“Which you could have done any number of ways. Shouting, asking one of us to shout if that was too undignified for you, asking one of us to bang our feet or weapons on the ground…” Dacey trailed off with a grin on her face.
Robyn grumbled. “Yes, yes, laugh it up.”
“Thank you, I will.”
Despite her attempt to pout, Robyn scoffed in amusement and let out a giggle. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Have I ever teased you about anything in your life ever?” Dacey asked with the smuggest of smirks.
She did not dignify that with a response.
She was standing in a sprawling godswood, a weeping heart tree staring at her as she remained in place. Snow covered the ground and the trees as the dying sunlight scattered through the canopy above her, bathing her in a sea of burnt orange. Robyn looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing a pale blue dress with gold and silver and platinum lacing patterns across her sleeves and near her collar. Further down at the hem, flowers of bronze spiralled upward. She wasn’t wearing shoes, though she didn’t feel the cold. Carefully, she reached up to her hair and realized to her own horror that it was a bridal braid. Her eyes shot to her surroundings and somehow it was only now that she noticed the torches lighting the procession and the crowd flanking the path up to the heart tree.
Some she recognized, some she didn’t. Lord Manderly stood close to the front, Wylla and Wynafryd smiling warmly. Just a little further down she caught the gaze of the Karstarks, the Reeds, the Boltons, and many others, all staring at her with a warmth in their eyes. Perhaps that was the warmth that made her forget to feel the cold for once in her life. Then to her left stood her sisters and brother, all in a line before she saw her mother and then dozens of others with the Stark look, all of them gazing at her with far less warmth. A gentle, warm hand touched Robyn’s shoulder and she desperately hoped it would be her father, but instead a face both familiar and unfamiliar to her looked down at her warmly. He was tall and his face handsome before he flashed the same grin that Robyn had, the one that didn’t quite look right. More wolf than human. It was odd seeing her own twisted, malformed smile on someone else.
“Uncle Brandon?” Robyn asked, the recognition hitting her hard.
She’d only seen him as a statue down in the Crypts, but clearly the mason who had chiseled him down there in the dark had known him well. The spitting image of the stared down at her with warmth and fondness.
“Hello, little one,” Brandon wolfishly grinned. “Excited for your wedding?”
A wave of nausea clawed its way up her throat and the only reason she didn’t fall was the comforting arm draped on her shoulders. Desperately she glanced for Dacey, but she couldn’t see her or the other Mormonts nearby. Dacey had left her, she must have been too distraught to see Robyn getting handed off to someone else. Robyn needed her to be there. She had to be. Robyn wouldn’t make it through the bedding without Dacey there to protect her, to comfort her, to tell her it was okay even as she wept and shook with terror throughout it all.
“It’ll be okay, little wolf. I know you miss your groom, but it’s not much longer now,” Brandon said comfortingly as he pulled her into a tight hug.
Robyn stiffly nodded as she moved her face from the furs of his coat. “I’ll do my duty.”
He sighed as he squeezed her shoulder. “I doubt you’ll be displeased with what’s to come. Now, chin up little wolf, no need to pout or panic. If your groom displeases you, I’ll make sure to prove that I have earned the nickname ‘the wild wolf’.”
She laughed as she adjusted her dress and dabbed at her eyes to make sure she wasn’t crying.
“Where’s Father? Shouldn’t he be up here instead of you? Not that I’m at all upset to spend time with you, Uncle,” Robyn quickly added. “Also hang on, why am I up here? Shouldn’t I be the one getting led down the procession to my future husband?”
Brandon hummed as he straightened Robyn’s braid. “Little Neddy is here, just in the audience. It was deemed inappropriate for him to stand up here, considering the circumstances. But don’t worry, my awkward little brother isn’t too far.”
He pointed towards a man with a head in his hands and Robyn’s stomach churned as she saw her father’s severed head staring back at her. He smiled at her sadly, though he said nothing.
“What happened to him?” Robyn whispered in horror.
“Lost his head,” Brandon laughed as he flashed a predatory smile.
Robyn rolled her eyes and lightly smacked him on the arm. “I see now why Father always seems annoyed when he tells us stories about you from when he was young. I doubt he enjoys that type of humor.”
“Oh little Neddy can be deadly funny when he wants to be, poor man just can’t seem to let himself be confident enough to joke around others. You certainly seem to take more after Lyanna and me in that way. As well as in so many other ways. Odd how it skipped Ned almost entirely and went to you,” he said.
“Well, Father was raised in the south and it colors his sensibilities. I’ve always tried to make up for the unfortunate nature of my sex and my Southron look about me,” Robyn admitted, a small blush creeping to her cheeks.
Brandon’s eyes flashed with anger as he pulled her into another hug. “You’re perfect as you are, little one. Never let those bastards and traitors tell you any different. As beautiful as freshly fallen snow and winter roses, as dangerous as a cold snap, and as sharp as a direwolf’s fangs. You are as Northern as anyone else, more in so many ways. A magnificent Winter Queen you shall make.”
“Sometimes I fear that I may have gone too far with how often Mother and Father seem to suggest different plans,” Robyn sighed. “That perhaps I’ve missed something and that they’re disappointed.”
“You have nothing to worry about there. Your mother is a fine woman, clever, warm, and kind, but she is too used to how things work in Riverrun. I remember fearing for how well she would adapt to Winterfell after marriage. It is hard for the Southrons to understand the kind of nature needed to keep everyone in line, everyone obedient and working toward the common good of the North before winter comes. Ned is little different. As you’ve said yourself, he was raised with high minded honor and chivalry and it has served him well, but if you were to try the same thing it would spell your doom. You, little one, have so much more to fight for. How could he understand it? He wouldn’t get that his dreams are not yours,” Brandon paused as he rubbed her back soothingly. “Father would have loved you. By far, you would have been his favorite grandchild with that scheming mind of yours and your understanding of Northern power and politics. Perhaps he would have adored you even above his own children. He was always irritated with how none of us had much love for the nuances of his ambitions.”
Robyn smiled weakly but still gratefully at him. “I’m glad that someone would choose me. Father and Mother both would have preferred I be a boy. If Sansa had been born a boy I suspect that they would eagerly have forgotten about me. I know they love me, but that’s not the same as choosing me. If they had the choice, I know that they’d wish I was different and that I was someone else.”
Brandon’s eyes flashed dangerously as fury writhed beneath his skin for a moment before he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Hush now, enough of that. Your father loves you and would choose you every time instead of someone else. Your mother, well, your mother I think can be frustratingly obstinate at times and can have a hard time deciphering her own feelings. In many ways she fits in rather well with the rest of us Starks. Feeling so much but having no idea how to handle it. We don’t do anything but extremes in this family. Either you’re as tempestuous as myself and Lyanna or you’re as closed off as Neddy. Your mother is closer to you and I than she is to Ned on that front. But she would most certainly choose you. Ned has chosen you many times, even if he occasionally needs it hammered into that frustratingly thick skull of his.”
Robyn nodded along as Brandon spoke and rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Thank you, I think I needed that.”
“Of course. I love you dearly, Robyn. Just as Ned does, just as we all do. Besides, we can’t let the little Queen be upset before her groom arrives, can we?”
She frowned and looked back up at him, brows furrowed. “You called me a Winter Queen earlier and you’re calling me a Queen again. I’m not a Queen nor will I ever be a Queen. My ambition is the North and the North alone. Robert still reigns and never would I consent to marrying any of his spawn.”
Her uncle gave her a cryptic look, though fondness glittered in his grey eyes. “Why else do you think you’re standing up here and not being led down the procession? A Queen cannot give up her name and your groom has agreed to take yours. It is only fair then to have you standing up here with me to welcome your groom into our family.”
“But I’m not a Queen,” she emphasized, a level of frustration creeping into her voice.
Around her the sounds of drums began to beat and chants in the Old Tongue started as whispers. A figure slipped out of the darkness, leading a deer along with a rope in one hand and a dagger in the other. The figured offered the blade to Robyn and she felt compelled to take it. Dragonglass, she noted idly.
“What’s happening?” Robyn asked her uncle.
“We’re breaking thousands of years of tradition for this moment, little one. We’ll have to augur with the gods to see if they approve. Spill its blood and let the new ways of things rush into the world,” Brandon said encouragingly.
“But you’ve not explained why you’re calling me Queen or who I’m even marrying,” she said with frustration.
The chants grew louder and the drum beat more intense. The heart tree behind her wept even more, the blood red tree sap starting to pool on the ground. In the distance crows and ravens screamed in alarm.
Uncle Brandon seemed unconcerned. If anything, his glee grew as the world grew more chaotic. “It will be a while before I am allowed to explain the first one. As for the second one… well, just look at who has arrived.”
Robyn frowned and felt her heart nearly stop beating for a moment as she saw the Mormonts lead Dacey, clad in a wedding dress, down the procession. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen and she knew in an instant that she had to have this, that she couldn’t let it slip through her grasp. Without even a moment’s hesitation, Robyn slit the deer’s throat and felt a warm gush of blood spill out onto her hands as it remained eerily still while bleeding out.
“The gods bless this union and what is to come,” Brandon boomed with laughter. “Well done, Robyn. Well done. Come, Dacey. Take your place with your bride.”
Dacey beamed at Robyn as she walked up and grabbed her still bloodied hands. Robyn’s sleeves fell back and the crimson staining her stood in stark contrast to the shockingly pale milk white skin next to it. She didn’t remember looking like that.
“Shouldn’t I clean up first?” Robyn asked worriedly.
“You’re beautiful as you are, my love,” Dacey said reverently as she grasped the dragonglass dagger and dropped it into the snow.
She took one of Robyn’s hands and smeared the blood over her mouth and lips before moving it back towards Robyn and doing the same to her. Robyn was too stunned to say anything or to react so she just stood there and took it. The drums grew louder and the chants more reverent and insistent. The screaming crows grew closer and closer.
“Dacey Mormont, heir to Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island, do you take Robyn Stark to be your bride?” Brandon asked.
Robyn frowned, this wasn’t how Northern weddings worked, this wasn’t how any wedding she knew of worked.
“I take this woman,” Dacey said with breathless wonder.
“Robyn Stark, Winter Queen, Undisputed Ruler of all the North, Matriarch of the House Stark, do you take Dacey Mormont to be your husband?” Brandon asked.
Those weren’t her titles, none of this was right. What was going on? Why could no one explain what was happening? Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. But as she looked for help, she saw the beaming awe and delight of her friends and allies in the audience. She saw the pride of her siblings, her mother, her headless father, and the countless generations of Starks before her. Uncle Brandon looked at her with a level of pride and joy that felt almost cloyingly insincere were it not for how easy it was to tell that he was completely and utterly delighted and genuine. She turned back to Dacey and looked up at her and the last of her panic left her body as she saw the utter reverence, devotion, and love on her lover’s face. This was what she had wanted for so very long. She’d fantasized of this very moment countless times before. Why couldn’t this one be different?
“I take this woman,” Robyn whispered, her voice hoarse and thick emotion as she fought off tears.
“Then you may kiss and seal the union,” Brandon said.
Dacey’s lips were as soft as ever and it only took a moment for Robyn to cave and push her tongue into Dacey’s mouth. She sucked on Dacey’s tongue greedily, biting at her lip and trying to draw her in closer and closer. Dacey bit back harder and Robyn sighed as she felt the skin break and the blood leak to the surface. Robyn then broke the skin on Dacey’s lip and they mixed their blood together with that of the deer’s in both of their mouths, binding them together. Vaguely she recalled once not understanding the Valyrian obsession with blood rituals during marriages, but now she understood completely and utterly. They were so much closer than before.
“Mine,” Robyn grumbled, the word forcing itself out without her even realizing it.
Her higher reason slipped away as she kissed Dacey again, all teeth and tongue. She could barely think other than the one word mantra of mine, mine, mine. Dacey pulled away and Robyn snarled viciously at the separation.
“Come now, little wolf, let me serve you, let me consummate our marriage and ensure everyone knows that I’m yours,” Dacey laughed.
Robyn practically whimpered at the thought. “Please. Please, please, please—”
She was silenced with another kiss before Dacey tore Robyn’s dress in half and left Robyn standing there naked in front of the heart tree and the audience. She couldn’t even care that they were being watched, let them watch her husband fuck her and know that she was Dacey’s and Dacey was hers. Pushed on the ground, she couldn’t even feel the cold of the snow against her back as Dacey pushed herself on top of her. As Robyn writhed and moaned in pleasure on the ground and as Dacey covered Robyn’s neck with kisses and bites, Robyn panted and turned her head to the side to let Dacey have better access to her neck. The blood-like sap from the heart tree reached the ground now and she saw herself, though curiously, her deep, dark blue eyes were gone and in their place were eyes as bright and cold as blue stars.
Robyn awoke from that dream with a scream of pleasure and ecstasy before collapsing into the concerned arms of Dacey. Once the delight wore off, it was soon filled with fear and panic. She didn’t get any sleep after that, for fear that she’d see those bright, icy blue eyes staring back at her.
As it had turned out, Robyn had cracked a few bones in her hand as well as bruised her palm when she had done her dramatic hand slam onto the throne in the Great Hall. Maester Luwin wasn’t worried at all about her recovery, though he did emphasize that she was not to distress her hand at all. Which was rather unfortunate as she’d injured her writing hand. Robyn felt restless and useless now that after court each day she had to actually spend time with her friends and family instead of hiding herself away in her father’s solar and focus entirely on her duties. Not that it was a bad thing to spend time with people, just that it left her somewhat listless and ill at ease.
Though as much as she hated to admit it, she did enjoy getting to partake in some of her activities of her youth, such as reading, playing with Raya, watching Dacey train in the courtyard, or visiting the hot springs in the godswood with her ladies. She perfectly understood that she was nearly a woman grown at 15 and that her father would most certainly chide her for spending her time on anything other than her duties. But, as selfish as she was, she did enjoy it.
Dacey held Robyn’s bandaged hand in her own, kissing each of her knuckles while Robyn rested her head on Dacey’s shoulder. They were sitting by the fire in their chambers as Raya and Shaggydog played a few feet in front of them. It was nice to lay back and relax, especially after a tiring session of court earlier that day trying to handle the fallout of the indefinite arrests of Cerwyn and Tallhart. Both of their heirs had protested the imprisonment and the crippling fines, but Robyn had remained resolute. She couldn’t really even enjoy the feeling of having thwarted a scheme as the whole thing felt like a bafflingly poor play on the part of the Umbers. Part of her wondered if this was just the beginning of a trap that they were waiting to spring, but she also didn’t want to fall into paranoia about all of this. She could probably ask Alys to write a letter on her behalf to the Entertainer’s Guild to see if they could focus on spying on the Umbers as it would be good to know just what the bloody hell the intention was with invading the Barrowlands…
“You still awake over there?” Dacey asked lightly.
“Somewhat,” Robyn hummed. “You’re very warm.”
Her sworn shield huffed. “I should have known you only loved me for my warmth.”
“You should be grateful, some would kill for the pleasure of being the Lady of Winterfell’s bedwarmer,” Robyn said primly.
Dacey scoffed. “Who said I wasn’t one of them? Any rivals to that position would have to go through me, so who is to say I have not already gotten rid of them?”
“I feel so much safer already.”
Dacey gingerly moved her hand and kissed the palm of it. Robyn couldn’t feel her lips directly through the bandages, but the light pressure and warmth sent a light shiver down her spine. Robyn adjusted herself to lean even further into Dacey’s body as she focused her gaze back on Raya, who was playing tug of war with Shaggydog as she giggled. It genuinely surprised her just how quickly direwolves grew. She did understand on a basic level that this was normal, but there was a part of her that was a touch concerned at just how much bigger Shaggydog was than Raya.
The bitterness she once felt about a lack of a direwolf had dissipated over the past few months, a large part of it was simply that she was having to take care of Shaggydog since Raya was not old enough to really handle any of that yet. So she enjoyed feeling like Shaggydog’s honorary caretaker. Even when her other siblings had been here all of their direwolves seemed to really like her, which she selfishly was delighted about even if it was a bit silly to enjoy it so much. They just associated her with her siblings. Well, and occasionally she spoiled them by slipping them extra food when she was feeling queasy at the thought of certain certain meals. Meera and Lyra had caught her trying to feed a leg of chicken to Shaggydog the other day and were amused that she’d rather give it to the wolf than to just ask the cooks to make something else that was more palatable for her.
“I still can’t believe you got so furious that you slapped stone,” Dacey laughed, the sound hitting Robyn’s ears like music.
“Yes, you keep saying that,” Robyn sighed. “It was perhaps a touch rash of me to have done so, but then again I was very upset at the whole situation. Not to mention having to sit through the argument between the Guild of Miners and the White Knife Caravan Company.”
“How did that end up getting resolved, by the way?”
Robyn shrugged as best she could from her position. “Mother handled most of it, thank the gods. She bought a large enough share in the company to allow them to refocus on more caravans to travel through the North. Which is about the best that could be hoped for, I fear that had I been forced to sit through another meeting with them I would have demanded that every man involved take the black for incompetence and wasting time.”
“No wonder the Umbers think you a tyrant,” Dacey teased.
“I did not say I would have done it, just that I fear that I would have seriously considered doing it,” Robyn huffed. “Besides, you have never complained about my so-called tyrannical tendencies.”
“Of course not my lady, I’m far too afraid of your capricious moods and demanding attitudes,” Dacey said cheerfully as she leaned down and kissed Robyn on the cheek.
Raya took that moment to waddle over and sat down in Dacey’s lap while Shaggydog sat down in front of Robyn and rested her head in her lap. Robyn used her hand that was not currently cradled by Dacey to scratch the direwolf on her head.
“Getting tired, little one?” Robyn asked as she tried to cover up her deranged smile as best she could.
“No,” Raya yawned.
Dacey ruffled Raya’s auburn curls. “You would tell us if you were tired, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” Raya grumbled and yawned again.
Robyn couldn’t hold back her laughter that time as Dacey’s grin widened.
“Well she said she wouldn’t tell us, so obviously we shouldn’t take her back to her room to nap,” Robyn laughed.
“Definitely not,” Dacey grunted as she let go of Robyn’s hand and lifted herself to her feet before grabbing Raya into one of her arms. “My lady?”
Robyn delicately grabbed the proffered hand with her good one and threaded her arm through Dacey’s. Shaggydog whined slightly but followed along after them as they made their way to the door. It seemed Raya wasn’t the only one that was tired. Robyn had just opened the door when a grim-faced Maester Luwin appeared on the other side.
“Ah, apologies my lady, I had no clue you were about to head out,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “We were about to go take Raya to her room for a nap. Is something the matter?”
“A raven from Sea Dragon Keep has arrived,” he said gravely.
Robyn had a terrible feeling about this all of a sudden. “What’s happened?”
Luwin sighed as he handed over a letter. She looked down at it and frowned as she skimmed over the unfamiliar handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat as she reached the middle of the letter.
“Fuck,” she hissed. “Do we know who wrote this? Is it at all possible someone has forged this?”
“I’m afraid I recognize Maester Corwin’s hand all too well, my lady.”
“Rob? What’s wrong?” Dacey asked.
The tears would come eventually, she knew they would. But for now, all she could feel was disbelief and a creeping dread at what was to come.
“Uncle Benjen has died,” Robyn muttered. “Apparently there was an outbreak of consumption at Sea Dragon Point from the arrival of an infected Ironborn trade ship. Uncle Benjen was among those infected, as was Rickard and Brandon.”
“Oh I’m so sorry Rob… Lord Benjen always seemed like a nice sort. Pity his children turned out to be such rotten brats,” Dacey said sympathetically.
Robyn sighed. “Maester Luwin, please send my cousins and my aunt my condolences. Inquire if they are wanting to do a private funeral or if they would prefer for his bones to be interred here in Winterfell. Could you ask Mother to send something about this to Father? I would do it myself, but well…”
She raised her still bandaged hand and waggled it through the air.
“Of course, my lady. If I might give you some advice?”
“By all means,” Robyn frowned.
The Maester sighed and tugged on his chain. “I suggest you send something to Lord Renly. It might be useful to get any additional leverage possible. I fear that the matter with Cerwyn and Tallhart will only be the beginning now that your cousin can plot so openly with the Umbers. Men, gold, food, anything extra could be crucial to stockpile now.”
“Surely they wouldn’t do anything now, it wouldn’t be hard at all for Lord Stark to get the King to act against them,” Dacey frowned.
“True, but as I’m sure Lady Robyn will agree, there is nothing to guarantee that Lord Stark’s attention may not be diverted by some crisis in the south that would prevent his ability to act swiftly against them. It would be prudent to prepare,” Luwin explained.
Robyn stared off into space for a moment and barely registered that she was speaking until the words had left her mouth. “They’re also probably thinking that the last Starks to go south didn’t return alive.”
Images of the statues of Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna swirled in her head. Strangled, burned, and bled. Mayhaps Starks did melt south of the Neck. What did it say about her then that she was born there?
“That is a rather grim and pessimistic thought, my lady,” Maester Luwin said delicately. “But that may very well be true. As much as they respect your father, he’s not here and where he currently is could hardly be described as truly safe.”
“Get one of your scribes or assistants to attend to me in the solar tomorrow and I will dictate a letter to Renly,” Robyn sighed.
He bowed his head. “If I may be so bold, I must suggest that as a healer, you ought to find ways to relax more. You look as if you’ve scarcely been sleeping and running yourself ragged is in no way conducive to the good of the realm nor to your own health.”
She groaned in mild annoyance but nodded. “As soon as my hand is better I shall start going on rides down to Wintertown and through the Wolfswood.”
“Excellent.” Luwin left without another word.
Robyn sighed and leaned against Dacey’s arm. They began walking toward Raya’s room once more, Shaggydog following behind excitedly.
“Let’s go to the hot springs after we put your sister up,” Dacey suggested.
Robyn snorted. “I might fall asleep if we do that.”
“Oh I’m rather counting on it. You can get a nice nap and I can relax my muscles after the training yard this morning.”
She considered protesting, but the prospect of a nap in such a peaceful environment and with Dacey wrapped around her in private was enough to sway her. So she nodded.
“Fine. It’s not as if I’ve not been sleeping, rather it’s been the odd dreams,” Robyn sighed.
Dacey hummed lightly as they reached Raya’s door and she gently opened it with her back. “Maester Qyle, the Maester at Bear Island when I was a child, said once that dreams could be a bit of a self fulfilling problem. If you’re upset about something or stressed or generally running yourself ragged, you’re more likely to get dreams that leave you feeling that way. I should think that relaxation will help take the edge of and end the cycle of awful dreams that you’re currently trapped in.”
Robyn didn’t say anything to that. Really, she wasn’t sure how to explain that despite the bizarre panicked state she found herself in when she was having one of her stranger dreams, such as that of their wedding, she couldn’t truly say that they were all that bad.