Chapter 24: Warg

As Ser Raymun Darry had taken his forces and most of his supplies westwards towards Riverrun, Robb decided against forcing the women, children and those left behind to give up their rooms and food for them, and instead marched his forces Southwards for a few more hours, settling nearby the Inn at the Crossroads and allowing him to have a comfy bed and a better meal than army rations allowed him.

It was the next morning when he was awoken by his new squire, an arrangement that still baffled him considering neither he nor said squire Larence Snow, the bastard of Hornwood, believed in the New Gods.

"Lord Robb." Larence had said. "Ser Domeric is back."

And so he was, the heir to the Dreadfort arriving at the inn with 15,000 mounted Knights. Robb's Father had always stressed to him how impressive the Knights of the Vale were but seeing them in formation was something else.

"Ser Domeric." Robb greeted fondly.

"Lord Robb." Dom replied, as the pair clasped forearms. "I bring the Knights of the Vale."

Dom stood to one side to greet his Father, while Robb was stood face to face with Lord Yohn Royce in his famous bronze armour. "Lord Royce, it is good to see you again. I just wish it were under better circumstances."

The famous Bronze Yohn nodded. "I must admit, I am surprised that His Grace and Lord Eddard named you as their commander, but I trust their judgement Lord Robb." He stuck out an arm and Robb duly shook it. "We should make for the capital as soon as we can however, I dread to think what has gone on in the King's absence."

Robb agreed with the man and invited him to share breakfast with him as Robb explained his plans for when they arrived. Lord Royce of course had adjustments that came with experience, and over the course of an hour the pair had agreed on a course of action, and together they led the march of nearly 25,000 men across the Trident and down towards King's Landing.

Whilst the news of King Robert's new bride was met with jubilation from most at the Twins, it was a lot more subdued in Lady Olenna's chambers, where she yet again was sat with her grandchildren discussing what to do next.

"He spurned her!" Loras was furious, pacing the room in his anger.

Olenna rolled her eyes at the theatrics. "He clearly didn't know what Renly was planning, Loras. Sit down."

"For a Frey!" Loras exclaimed, seeming to have not heard his Grandmother.

That bit admittedly troubled Olenna, and it worried her that the young Stark boy would be happy to go along with such a move. Margaery as ever was calmer than her brother. "Loras, be calm." She said softly. "What's done is done, we cannot change it. The question now is what should we do next?"

And that brought all of their attention to the letter in the centre of the table, a letter written in what Olenna recognised was Tywin Lannister's own hand. Olenna had a sip of her drink as Loras picked it up and read it once more. "Tywin wants Margaery to marry Joffrey and have us publicly proclaim the rumours surrounding his daughter as lies." Loras told them all for what must have been the fourth time. He looked at Margaery. "You would be Queen." He shrugged.

Olenna slammed her goblet on the table loudly. "We will not marry Margaery to that vile boy!" She almost shouted. "Both he and his vile Mother can hang for all I care. That rumour is true, why else would Robert Baratheon rise up against a man he is in millions of gold in debt to?"

Loras couldn't answer. "I don't care if it's true or not." He muttered. "I just don't want to sit here while others march to war. I'm the Lord of Highgarden, I need to be seen doing something."

"And we will be." Margaery smiled sweetly, placing her hand on Loras' forearm. "Grandmother has a plan, don't you?" She was looking at Olenna expectantly.

Olenna stared back for a moment before the smirk forced itself onto her face. "You know me too well, child." She told her granddaughter. "Of course I do, and it doesn't involve that hideous Lannister woman living."

"Then we join the King in his war?" Margaery asked.

Olenna nodded. "Call the banners, Loras. Have Randyll Tarly gather the Southern Lords and invade the West by the Ocean Road, you yourself gather half of the Northern Lords taking the Gold Road into the West and leave a good force at Highgarden just in case." She told her grandson. "We don't want to leave ourselves vulnerable." 'Not again.' She thought to herself.

Loras nodded. "Yes. Yes we'll be attacking them from every route into the Westerlands." He said happily.

"And leave Margaery to me." Olenna told Loras. "We'll find her an advantageous match." She had thought any of the Stark boys considering that the North would prove to be vital in everything that was coming, but of course the two eldest had already gotten themselves married and the other two were betrothed already.

Loras looked a lot happier then, standing up once more to stare out of Olenna's balcony. "We'll remind the entire realm just how mighty we really are." He insisted.

Olenna rolled her eyes and left him to his bluster, instead picking up the message that had come from Casterly Rock and neatly ripping it up into little pieces.

Seeing Riverrun surrounded by tents once more almost got Torrhen ready to draw Winter's Bite before charging in like the Battle of the Camps, but thankfully once his hand touched the swords hilt he noticed the closest banner being one belonging to House Mooton, one of the more powerful Houses of the Riverlands. Realising his Uncle must have gathered around 17,000 men to Riverrun made Torrhen relax a bit more, as he rode with the other Northern Lords behind King Robert and his Father into the camp, and the nobles of the Northern host, which had been bolstered by 5,000 men from the Twins, were soon escorted into Riverrun proper.

They were greeted by Edmure, who Torrhen was pleasantly surprised to see Riversteel at his hip, and Ser Brynden Tully, who both got to one knee as Robert rode into the Riverrun courtyard. Robert quickly bid them to rise.

"Your Grace, I realise you will likely need time to rest, but my Father is in the War Room waiting for you." Edmure explained. "It's a rare good day, so urgency is needed."

"What my nephew is trying to say." Ser Brynden interrupted. "Is that my brother grows gravely ill and is often bedridden. If it pleases you we should make use of his health holding up."

Robert nodded. "Of course, we'd be glad to attend. Ned, bring your boy."

Torrhen was surprised to be invited but was glad of it. He handed his horse Obsidian off to one of the stable hands and kept pace with the other men as they entered the main keep of Riverrun and made their way up to the War Room.

Lord Hoster Tully was sat there with the Maester, looking frail and smaller than Torrhen remembered. King Robert was the first to enter the room, closely followed by Barristan as ever. Hoster smiled sadly. "Your Grace. Forgive me, I'd kneel but…"

"You stay where you are, My Lord." Robert told the old man kindly. "I still owe you a great debt for your support all those years ago."

Hoster smiled, coughing as he did. "It doesn't seem that long ago since both you and Eddard were here in this very room planning the battle of the Trident. I fear I'm of as much use now as I was then."

"You were wounded." Ned insisted.

"And now I'm just dying." Hoster chuckled grimly, more coughs following. "How is little Cat?"

Ned pulled out a letter. "She wishes she could be here, but the children..."

"This is no place for her, not at the moment." Ser Brynden noted.

"But once this is all over with she will come and visit." Ned told the old man. "I swear it."

Hoster smiled, as he nodded for Maester Vyman to take the letter. He then noticed Torrhen still standing in the doorway. "Tor! My boy, come here." Torrhen did as he was asked, walking to his Grandfather's chair and getting down on both knees, reaching out to hold Hoster's hand. "Your warning it seems came true."

"Sadly so, Grandfather." Torrhen replied.

"But thanks to you we are as ready as we can be, and I have another Grandson, one I can actually dote on." Hoster smiled as he thought of Edmure's newborn son, Axel Tully.

Torrhen smiled happily, but Robert was growing slightly impatient with the reunions. "Where are we at with the war?" He asked.

Edmure pointed them to yet another map of Westeros, but with lion figures pushed as far as Wayfarer's Rest. "Gregor Clegane scattered our men and has sacked Wayfarer's." He explained. "Thankfully our army gathering here has stopped him in his tracks, but before anything we need to retake the castle."

Ned nodded. "I would not have that monster at our backs when we are forced to besiege the Tooth."

"We have almost 40,000 men, how many does he have?" Torrhen asked.

"Less than 3,000." The Blackfish answered. "We can take it, but the castle isn't an easy one to take once you expect an assault."

"Luckily, we have Ser Karyl Vance." Edmure explained. "Or, Lord Karyl now I guess. But he grew up there and knows the castle inside out."

"Have him beside you when you ride out, Edmure." Hoster suggested. "Utilise his knowledge of the area as much as you can."

Edmure nodded and turned to Torrhen. "Is there anything that you can see that will help us win this?"

Torrhen was afraid of this happening, being asked for visions at every turn. "It doesn't work like that, Uncle." He admitted. "I can't choose what I see."

"We'll have to rely on our strength at arms." Robert said, happy that it would come to that.

Barristan looked at the map. "The Mountain is a reckless man, quick to anger. If we harass the supply lines back to the West, could we entice him out of the castle?"

Ned looked thoughtful. "Most men would see that as a trap."

"The Mountain isn't most men." Robert explained. "It's worth a go at least. At worst we stop their supplies from coming in and condemn ourselves to a siege."

"We'll need to keep eyes on the Tooth too though." Barristan noted. "Ensure that we don't get taken in the rear."

The Blackfish looked at the map. "Tywin won't commit all his men to a single assault on us when he's this backed into a corner. He'll preserve his strength and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike."

"He'll have plans and back up plans." Robert nodded. "Then let's take this castle quickly and move on to focusing on getting to Casterly Rock. How soon can your men be ready to leave?"

Edmure thought for a second. "Two days." He surmised.

"Then at dawn on the third we march." Robert said commandingly. "In the meantime, I suppose I need to start losing some of this if I'm to be of any use." He slapped his belly with a chuckle. "Come, Ser Barristan. You can train with me."

With that the King of the Seven Kingdom's left the room. Hoster Tully looked at Ned. "My Daughter's old chambers have been prepared for you, Lord Stark."

Ned nodded. "If you'll excuse me Lord Tully, I should bathe and freshen myself up."

He then left the room followed closely by Edmure and Ser Brynden. Torrhen was about to leave, but Hoster stopped him. "Do you see if we win?" He asked.

Torrhen shook his head. "I've seen nothing to do with this war, Grandfather." He admitted.

Hoster nodded his understanding, a cold look of fury in his eyes. "They must pay, Torrhen. For Lysa, as unhinged as she may have been towards the end she was still my little girl. Make them pay."

Winterfell felt quiet without the boys, although Catelyn was positive that the noise made by Rickon and Robin Arryn charging about the castle should have made up for that. Thankfully most of the time the two young boys were being handled by Ser Rodrik, as the old knight got them in the training yard.

Another thing for Catelyn to worry about was Wylla Manderly. Her gooddaughter was growing bigger by the day with Cat's grandchild in her belly and it was taking its toll. Thankfully for Cat, Sansa had stepped up massively, helping out with the running of Winterfell to the best of the young girl's ability. Cat's eldest daughter was also helping out with Sara Stark, grateful to have a sister with the same hair and eyes as Sansa.

The matriarch of House Stark was watching her son and nephew learning how to strike a dummy with their wooden swords from the balcony that she and Ned had often browsed the boys training from, although this time she was sat down with both Sansa and Wylla, the latter holding on to her belly cautiously. Sansa was holding her baby sister Sara as both the girls direwolves were at her feet.

"The babe is fine, Wylla." Cat tried reassuring the girl once she noticed the woman fidgeting. "Maester Luwin insists so."

Wylla smiled nervously. "I'm just cautious, Lady Stark. My Mother had issues with childbearing, I just hope I don't follow her in the same."

"You have the best care here, Wylla." Sansa smiled brightly, bouncing a clapping and giggling Sara on her lap. "Maester Luwin has delivered all of us, he knows what he is doing."

Wylla smiled, before chuckling as the young red direwolf pup tried to get onto Sansa's lap too.

"Red! Get down." Sansa scolded the childishly named direwolf through a chuckle. The direwolf did so, and Cat joined in the laughter as Lady, ever the well behaved direwolf, placed a paw on Red's back to stop her from jumping again.

"What do you think is happening with the South?" Wylla asked.

Cat sighed. "Lord Stark and Torrhen have made it to Riverrun, but that's all I know."

"Nothing on Robb?" Sansa asked.

Cat shook her head. "His role is apparently centred around speed; he likely hasn't had time to write us."

"He didn't say what he wanted our child to be named." Wylla commented. Cat turned to her.

"Neither did Ned when I had Robb." She told the Manderly girl. She laughed at the memory. "I was already nervous, being the first woman to follow the Seven from south of the Neck to marry into Winterfell and here I was having given birth to the new heir to Winterfell without the first clue on what to call him. I didn't know much about Stark history, only the name of Ned's immediate family and his grandparents. In the end I settled for the name of his best friend, thinking I couldn't go wrong with that. You have more Northern knowledge than I ever did, but the main thing is to look at your child and to see that the name suits the babe."

That inspired Wylla a bit, as she had a more thoughtful expression on her face. "Thank you, My Lady. I think I have an idea now."

"If you want, I can help you research some names." Sansa said brightly. Wylla was about to respond when Ser Rodrick began shouting down below them.

"RICKON STARK STOP THAT NOW!"

Cat looked down to see that apparently her youngest son had gotten bored at swinging at the dummies and had instead decided to start whacking the young Lord Arryn, who in his amusement had swung back. Sansa burst out laughing at the sight, and even Catelyn had to have a small chuckle, grateful that even in a time of war, her family could still bring her happiness.

Jon, Jory and the two Stark men sent to guard them had been able to join the Dothraki horde as they travelled east of Pentos, largely thanks to Daenerys Targaryen's fond opinion of Jon after their only meeting so far. They were towards the back of the 40,000 strong Khalasar, and Jon was in awe of the number of horses.

"All of these men following one man." Jon said as they rode, with Jory beside him. "It's incredible."

"There were more than this number attacking the Iron Islands in my first war." Jory commented.

Jon nodded. "Aye, but there you have different Lords with different ambitions involved. This man follows Lord Glover, this man follows Lord Ryswell and so on. Here it's one man. One army. It's impressive."

"Aye it is." Jory conceded. "I wouldn't want to face this lot in battle."

"Pray we never need to." Jon added. They rode on slowly, until Jon noticed Daenerys off to one side, with Ser Jorah talking to her.

"Go and speak with her." Jory pushed.

Jon shook his head. "She won't want to see me." He said softly.

Jory rolled his eyes. "Jon, the whole reason we are here is for you to grow close with her. To allow her to trust you." They noticed Daenerys unhappy at being handed tree bark to eat. "Give her one of the treats from Gage."

Jon groaned, but reached into his satchel anyway and picked out one of the small biscuits that Gage the cook had given them. He rode towards the Mormont knight and pulled up by them.

"Jon Snow." Mormont bowed his head.

"Ser Jorah." Jon greeted. "Khaleesi."

Daenerys smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I'm not good company at the moment, Jon Snow." She looked off to the distance, and Jon followed her eyes to see Khal Drogo riding ahead, looking as regal as anything Jon had ever seen.

"Riding all day is hard." Jon noted. "You need to keep your strength up."

"That's a struggle when all there is to eat is bark." Daenerys said grumpily. Jon smirked, and handed her the biscuit. "What is it?" She asked.

"I get on well with the cook at Winterfell." He explained. "He gave me enough of these to feed a small army. Have it."

She bit into the biscuit, and while it was a little dried out, Daenerys' eyes lit up for a moment. "Thank you." She said.

Jon just smiled at her. "It's tough, and I can only imagine how tough it is for you once we camp, but once everything becomes a bit less… foreign. I'm sure you'll thrive here."

"What do you know about foreign?" Jorah asked.

Jon sighed. "I'm a bastard. All my life I've been treated differently to my siblings. I've grown used to adapting, Ser."

Daenerys looked at him sadly. "All my life we've been running from one city to the next, never knowing where the Usurper would strike next."

Jon looked at her sadly. "That must have been terrible."

"Some of it was." Daenerys admitted. "Some of it was alright. I have fond memories of Braavos."

As she said that Jory came galloping back towards them. "Jon, you're falling behind."

Jon nodded, and turned to Daenerys. "If you'll excuse me, Khaleesi." He bowed his head.

Daenerys just smiled at Jon. "Come and find me at first light, Jon Snow. You can ride with me and tell me more about Westeros."

Torrhen hadn't been on Robb's campaign into the Westerlands, instead having been chosen to treat with Renly Baratheon instead, a thought that made Torrhen's side itch when it returned to Torrhen's mind, a mental reminder of being stabbed by Loras Tyrell and the pain that came afterwards. Because of that, he hadn't been there to find the goat track with Robb to take them past the Golden Tooth.

Looking up at the castle as the sun began to set, Torrhen understood why the Westerlands had rarely had any wars fought on its soils. If this was the only way through the mountains for 100 miles either side, then it made sense why so many armies had been broken on the walls of the Golden Tooth. They commanded the River Road through the mountains, with a small but strong keep that was no doubt filled with thousands of men, more than enough to stop the large force of Northmen and Rivermen that had descended upon them after recapturing Wayfarer's Rest for House Vance.

A soft panting came from near his ankles, and he looked down to see the black fur of Balerion beside him, lying down patiently. "Good boy." Torrhen whispered, kneeling down to pet the direwolf. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Standing back up he decided to retire back to his tent and stripped out of his armour before lying on his bed in just a loose undershirt and baggy trousers. He propped himself up on the pillows, looking down at Balerion who was sat on the ground, his head cocked to the left wondering what was happening. "I've not done this to you yet, so if it hurts I'm sorry." Torrhen said to the direwolf. He then looked up at the ceiling and relaxed his mind, feeling it slip out of his body.

The next thing he knew he was looking up at himself lying down on the bed. Mentally celebrating the fact that it had worked, Torrhen got up onto all fours and bounded out of the tent, his tail wagging. He moved towards the left-hand side hill, sniffing as he went past the large pen that housed the recently captured Gregor Clegane, the giant man's hands and legs bound with strong steel to keep him firmly in place. He also ran past King Robert, Ser Barristan Selmy and his Father all training at arms, the King having stuck to his determination to recapture some of his past prowess with the hammer.

Torrhen was soon out of the camp though and racing towards the hills, his nose firmly towards the ground as he sniffed constantly, trying to pick up the scent. Finally, after almost an hour of searching, he caught the whiff of goat. He went exploring for a little longer, managing to squeeze through some bushes that blocked the way, but Torrhen had found it, the path that Robb had used to bypass the Golden Tooth the last time.

Thinking that that was enough for one night, Torrhen ran back towards the army camp and his own tent, his body having not moved an inch. He let his mind fly back to his own body, and he awoke to the view of the tent roof with a gasp.

Grinning, he leapt off of his bed without a care for his attire and raced towards his Father.