A Moment of Rest

"You have spent a great deal of time here." Opening his eyes slowly, Robb looked to see Jon approaching with a smile on his face, Arya a little ways behind, and the Direwolves around her. She was smiling, appearing much like the young girl she was, just enjoying life as if completely oblivious to the war waging around her.

Robb was happy to see it.

"Hmm." He hummed, Jon sitting down beside him, both taking a moment to observe Arya. "Are the lords looking for me?"

"Many are," Jon admitted, Robb sighing deeply, a rare moment of open frustration and Jon noticed how Robb seemed to have aged. He had always known that Robb had looked different, had been able to tell from the moment he first entered through the gates of Winterfell, but now it was different. "Lord Tarly however has ordered them to leave the Godswood and you alone, he has assumed command in your absence. I have also placed some guards outside to ensure no one gets any ideas."

Nodding his head, Robb rested his head back against the Weirwood tree, looking up to the red leaves above. "Randyll's a good man with a good head on his shoulder, perhaps better than me." He admitted and Jon for the most part agreed, though was unsure about that last point. "I wish I could just leave things to others and just rest."

"But you won't."

It was not a matter of Robb being unable to, Jon knew that much because he very well could. He had done more than anyone and achieved more than anyone and none would dare stop him. However, it was not a matter of being able to do it, Robb simply couldn't stop, not even when the war was over.

"Nay." Robb agreed, taking a deep breath. "It gets me away from the troubles that are brewing in the south."

Though he knew he shouldn't, Jon couldn't help but smile in amusement. "Your wives?" He asked, voice showing how amused he was at the idea of Robb staying north and waging war, just to get away from his wives. It was so unlike the rumours, songs and stories he had heard about his brother.

"Aye, even when this war is over, I will still find myself in the middle of another." That admission was a sobering reminder, Jon's smile slipping away. Even when the North was secure and the War of Five Kings was finally over, Robb would not be safe, he would still be fighting. All the while he would be able to live comfortably in the North when he had failed to secure the North alone.

"Then why did you marry Daenerys?"

"She, nay, the Imp offered me little choice," Robb said. "It was an ultimatum, I either marry her or to one of my lords, or she allied with Aegon against me. Face fifty thousand men and three dragons, or gain twenty thousand men and three dragons. Or risk rebellion in the future."

"Did they say as such?"

The look he received made Jon nod his head.

It had not been explicitly stated, but the warning and threat had been clear.

"The aftereffects of this war are already going to be devastating, something Westeros will take years to recover from." Robb continued, smiling slightly as he watched Arya ride around on Nymeria, Grey Wind and Ghost following. "If I had not secured Daenerys' alliance, even if she did not ally with Aegon, my chances of winning were small. At the end of that conflict, it didn't matter who emerged victorious, Westeros would have never recovered."

It was not that he couldn't have won, Jon realised, the chances had been small, but Robb had seen a possibility for success. No, what had forced his hand had been the aftereffects of war, he had been looking beyond the immediate outcome to what would be in store for him in the future.

"But you are risking war even now, what is to say that your wives, that the Targaryens and Tyrells won't resort to all-out war?" Robb chuckled humourlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes beginning to sting a little thanks to the lack of sleep.

"I suppose I should be thankful that this war has dragged on for as long as it has." That made Jon raise a brow. "The Tyrells are at their limit, for the first time in centuries, there is a food shortage in the Reach. Even now, while they deprive me of a commander in Garlan, an advisor in Willas and a warrior in Loras as a show of their displeasure, they continue to support me with food. Though they are operating at a loss instead of a profit, they continue to support me to gain whatever amount of favour they can from me."

Jon realised what Robb meant by this. "It will take them time to recover." Robb nodded his head. "They can't afford an all-out war anytime soon, but what about the Targaryens?"

"Her supporters have also been drained by this war. Even if she wished to pursue war soon, she would not find support even amongst her own followers to wage war. And, she seemed sincere when saying she did not wish to be seen as a tyrant or madman like her ancestors." Robb explained. "Both of my wives have been forced to stay their hand even if they wished to pursue war, they are unable to do so."

"Some good news at least."

Robb hummed once more, the two of them going silent, just listening to the sound of Arya and the Direwolves as they rested their eyes.

"Robb," Jon spoke, looking only to pause when he noticed the even breathing of Robb, the way he was leaned ever so slightly to his right, cheek resting upon his shoulder. The grip on his blade relaxed and the way his body seemed to rest further against the Weirwood.

Saying nothing, Jon just rested back against the tree, keeping his gaze on the surroundings, letting his brother sleep.

All the while he kept watch, vigilant and alert.

-X-

The heavy steps of Lord Umber were clear to feel, even more so to be heard as he moved through the corridors of the seat of House Stark, Winterfell. Tankard in his hand, filled to the brim with ale that he chugged down, dribbles filling his beard that he wiped down with one large hand, grunting angrily when he reached the bottom.

"Where's the King?" Smalljon asked gruffly, Randyll looking up from his desk, not in the least intimidated by the man's size. He was well aware of his reputation, which was beginning to surpass his father, the Greatjon, but he was not afraid of the Mad Giant of House Umber.

The same could not be said for the others in this room.

Harrold Hardyng.

Gendry Baratheon.

His own son, Dickon Tarly.

And a number of other young lords, each of which were eager to learn and be of use to the Wolf King, yet lacking experience. They also lacked experience with handling Smalljon Umber and Randyll could also say that he had little experience with wild men like him, but he had studied the king closely, studied the way he tamed and controlled the Mad Giant.

Cowering and nervousness seemed to be the easiest way to lose control of the man, he respected strength above all else. If one could not look him straight in the eye, dismiss his sheer size as if it were nothing and seemed unconcerned that the Mad Giant could kill him with ease, then that would be fuel for the Smalljon.

He would never respect or follow a man that feared him.

The King did not fear the Smalljon, and the Mad Giant followed him doggedly, his loyalty to the King absolute and unflinching. Randyll would be lying if he said there was anyone more loyal to the King than Smallljon because he doubted there was anyone.

Randyll could admire the simplicity of the Mad Giant as well, it was admirable in a way. But the Mad Giant was a cornerstone of the Kings army, even if he did not hold a position of command very often, there were few with more influence than the Smalljon who often stood as the King's chief guard. He needed the Mad Giant's respect above all others, save for the Kings, and Randyll was the type of man to get what he wanted.

"The King has asked to be undisturbed." He said dismissively, turning his gaze back to the paperwork just like he had seen the King handle the Mad Giant many times in the past, simultaneously acknowledging and dismissing the man. "In the meantime, I have been given command of the forces stationed at Winterfell."

Smalljon scoffed. "Then when are we marching to the Wall."

"We will be moving on the morrow," Randyll replied. "Do not worry, Lord Umber, we will be liberating your home soon."

"Bah!" Smalljon shouted, smacking both of his hands down on the table making many people jump. "Fuck that shite!" Slowly, Randyll finished his last bit of writing, slowly looking up to see Smalljon smiling viciously. "When do I get to fight!"

Truly, he was a simple man.

But that was what made him so dangerous.

He could rarely be reasoned with.