Chapter 26: We Do Not Sow

Bran had been loving life over the last few weeks, and he hated to admit that. The world was at war, his Father and Torrhen were fighting hard in the Westerlands and Robb had even taken King's Landing. While the thought of fighting terrified him luckily he had been well away from any, instead having followed Stannis to Storm's End where Renly Baratheon had begun to gather 20,000 men, with a further 10,000 having bolstered the defences at the Dornish Marches under Lord Beric Dondarrion. From there Bran had explored the massive drum tower of the Baratheon stronghold as well as learning both swordplay and strategy off of his mentor, Stannis.

They were there for a little while before all the men arrived at Storm's End and Bran was lucky enough to sit in on the final planning meeting. He heard about his Father and Torrhen's victory at the Golden Tooth, and even heard that Robb was sieging King's Landing due to one of the advisors to King Robert going rogue. That coupled with the uncertain loyalty of the Reach had left the Baratheon brothers to part ways, with Renly marching out with 10,000 men towards Fawnton so that he could dissuade the Reach from attacking them, or even get them to join their side.

Bran however marched the next day. Stannis wanted to aid Robb in taking King's Landing, and so the young Stark was part of the march up the Kingsroad and through the Kingswood, only to reach the capital the day after all of the fighting had finished.

As they entered the capital and rode up towards the Red Keep Bran noticed a number of men stood waiting for them. He even recognised most of the banners he thought, the Northern ones were obvious, with Manderly and Bolton surrounding the Stark banner. He even recognised the Royce banner and the elderly Lord that stood in front of them, although the other ones he wasn't too sure on, presuming them to be Vale Lords.

Stannis immediately walked up the Lord Royce and had a conversation that Bran couldn't actually hear, before the Baratheon Lord announced. "We'll reconvene in the Small Council chamber." Stannis then walked up to Bran. "Your brother is here, yes?" Bran nodded. "I'll need him to attend the meeting too, but you haven't seen him in a while. Have 10 minutes before you settle my things into my old chambers, you remember where they are?"

"I do, Lord Stannis." Bran answered.

"Good." Stannis said gruffly. "10 minutes."

Bran bowed his head as he waited for Stannis and his Stormlander delegation to walk with the Vale Lords and the other Northern Lords inside the Red Keep. Once they had gone, he sprinted towards Robb with a grin, throwing himself in his older brother's arms. They hugged fiercely for a long time, before Robb put him down on the ground and cupped Bran's cheek in his palm.

"Look at you." Robb said with a grin. "You're carrying a blade now and everything."

"Lord Stannis says we never know what to expect while at war, so to always be prepared." Bran recited. "It was made for me specially on Dragonstone."

Robb was pleased. "I'm just sorry that I couldn't give you your first blade. Although I do have a gift for you." Bran looked up questioningly at his brother, who just whistled loudly. They were waiting a moment before what looked like two adult wolves came racing towards them, stopping by Robb's feet. One was a dark grey, while the other was more of a soft golden colouring, and Bran recognised the golden one from his dreams of drinking.

"Summer!" He exclaimed. The direwolf almost smiled, wagging his tail and walking up to Bran, who stroked the wolf. "You're real!"

Robb was bemused. "You know his name? He was meant to be a surprise. Was it Torrhen that spoiled it? Or Sansa?"

Bran shook his head. "I dreamed of him. And you, and Grey Wind. He was drinking by a river, with lots of tents."

Robb looked surprised. "You dream of him?"

"Well, I dream I am him." Bran shrugged as if it was nothing. Robb had a thoughtful look in his eyes, but he shook it away as he smiled warmly once more.

"You can tell me all about them later, along with your adventures." Robb grinned. He put his arm around Bran and guided him inside. "And I'll tell you all about mine." They walked towards the entrance to the castle, but Bran stopped when he noticed a number of severed heads spiked along one of the castle walls. Robb noticed that and knelt beside Bran. He pointed to one of them, a dark-haired man with a goatee. "That was Lord Baelish." Robb explained. "He betrayed the King and took over the city because he lusted for power and the throne. There's also Grand Maester Pycelle, who was an agent of Tywin Lannister, Ser Meryn Trant, who broke his Kingsguard vows to let the Lannister's escape and then joined Baelish for money, and Janos Slynt, the commander of the Gold Cloaks who fought alongside Baelish to the end."

"Did you kill them?" Bran asked solemnly. The heads frightened him, but he was a Stark of Winterfell and he wouldn't show his fear.

Robb shook his head. "Pycelle was dead already, we found out his crimes afterwards. Trant was killed by Lord Royce within the city, but the other two were my own kills. Does that frighten you?" Bran quickly went to shake his head but nodded slowly after a moment. "That's ok." Robb admitted. "You're only young now, Bran, but this is what war is like. You may even have to take a life."

"I'm not that good yet." Bran admitted.

Robb smirked. "Neither was I at your age, but I learnt, and you will too." The elder looked at the two direwolves then. "Just keep Summer close until you do."

When Theon Greyjoy had fallen asleep with his face pressed deeply into the whore Ros' breasts, he didn't expect to be awoken by a shriek from the girl. He rubbed his eyes groggily to see 5 men in the Stark armour led by Ser Rodrik Cassel, all with their swords out and pointing at him, while Ros was cowering in the corner.

"Ser Rodrik?" The Greyjoy asked sleepily. "What's going on?"

Ser Rodrik to his credit looked guilty at what he was doing. "Best come with us quietly lad, don't make this harder than it already is?"

Theon moved the blankets to uncover his nakedness as he put his clothes from the night before back on. "Am I in trouble?" Theon asked.

"Not if you cooperate." Rodrik told him. Theon nodded, confused. He went to put his sword belt on but Rodrik edged closer. "We'll take the weapon."

"What's going on?" Theon asked, getting impatient. "I've been allowed to carry steel since I was 16."

"That was before your Father decided to assault the North." One of the guards spat.

Rodrik wheeled around angrily. "Quiet!" He hissed, before turning around to face Theon once more. "Just surrender your weapon and come with us Theon. Lady Stark will fill you in."

Unhappily, Theon shoved the sheathed sword into one of the men's hands, before taking his coin purse and throwing it at Ros, who caught it deftly. "Don't forget me." He smirked at the red head.

Theon quickly was put on his horse and made the short ride from Wintertown to Winterfell surrounded on all sides, to be met by Lady Catelyn and an unhappy looking Arya. The Stark matriarch looked sternly towards him. "Have you taken his weapons, Ser Rodrik?" She asked.

"I have, My Lady." Ser Rodrik bowed.

"Good." Catelyn nodded the once. "Have Theon escorted to his new chambers."

"New chambers?" Theon asked rudely. "Lady Catelyn, I…"

"Save it." Catelyn snapped. She turned quickly and escorted Arya into the Great Keep, while Theon himself was escorted towards the dungeons. His things had already been moved, although none of his daggers or bows had made the journey. The door was soon locked behind him, and no amount of knocking or screaming would unlock the ironwood.

By the second hour Theon was bored stiff. He was sulking on his bed when the door unlocked, allowing Lady Catelyn and an armed Ser Rodrik to enter before it was locked behind them. "My Lady. What am I doing here?" Theon asked.

Catelyn moved over to the small window and stared out at the courtyard. "Two days ago we received a rider from Blackpool on the Stoney Shore. Greyjoy ships were spotted in the distance and Lord Slate was preparing to defend the castle." She began explaining. "Since then we have had more riders and ravens. A raven from Flint's Finger claiming that their scouts have seen the Iron Victory sailing the Saltspear towards the Fever river, and then from up and down the west coast claiming more Ironborn ships are preparing for attack."

"The Iron Victory?" Theon asked. "That's my uncle Victarion's ship…"

"It is." Catelyn nodded. "And considering you being in Winterfell, we are quite surprised to see it sailing Northern waters."

"But why am I in a cell?" Theon asked. "I don't know what they're doing."

Rodrik ground his teeth, before saying coldly. "Lord Stark treated you as his own, boy, but you were always here as a hostage."

"You were brought here to dissuade your Father from attacking the North." Catelyn told him. "Yet here he is, attacking the North. A decision that he was told would mean your death if he dared."

That scared Theon, before fear turned to anger. "Am I to be executed for the actions of a man I haven't known since I was 9?" He snarled.

Rodrik moved his hand to his sword, but Catelyn stopped him with a wave of her hand. "No, Theon. Lord Stark left strict instructions when it came to you." She admitted. "You are hereby restricted to one hour of exercise in the castle a day. You shall have no weapons and you shall be guarded by two men at all times. Two meals a day will be brought to you here, one at dawn and one at dusk." Ser Rodrik pounded on the door three times and it was unlocked. Lady Stark went to leave, but she turned back to the now prisoner and said softly. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. We will try and agree a peace with your Father for your sake."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Theon alone locked away in a comfy cell wondering why his family cared so little for him that they'd risk his life like this.

Jon Snow was finally used to the Dothraki style of lying underneath the stars. Luckily the Essosi nights weren't too cold, and Ser Jorah had always made sure to have a fire going for the Northerners to lie by.

Daenerys had retired to her tent to get ready for another night with the Khal, and Jon frustratingly hadn't made any more progress in getting the Targaryen girl to speak to him again. To pass the time, both Jorah and Rakharo were teaching him some Dothraki dialect, while at the same time teaching the Dothraki man some of the common tongue. Ser Jorah held Rakharo's arakh in his hands as the two compared weapons.

"For a man on horseback, the curved blade is a good thing, easier to handle." The exiled knight was saying while stroking the flat edge of the arakh. "It's a good weapon for a Dothrakaan. But for a man in full plate, shori tawakof." Jorah was explaining, gesturing to his chest as he spoke. "The arakh won't get through the steel." Rakharo took the arakh back as Jorah reached for his own longsword. "That's where the broadsword has the advantage, designed for piercing."

"And it's better in one on one combat. Defence." Jon added. Jorah translated it for him at Rakharo's confused look, and Rakharo laughed, speaking in Dothraki. Jon managed to catch the gist of what he was saying, that the Dothraki did not need to defend if they kill properly the first time. "Sometimes defence is necessary. That's why the steel plate… shuri tarakov?" He asked Jorah if he had the right translation.

"Shori tawakof." Jorah corrected.

"Shori tawakof, that's why that comes in handy." Jon finished.

Rakharo just grinned at Jon and again spoke in Dothraki, although happily Jon understood the phrase. "Dothraki don't wear steel dresses."

"Armour." Jorah translated for the Dothraki man.

"Armour." Rakharo tested. Armour make a man… Vroz?"

"Slow." Jon beat Jorah to the punch, happy that his learning was coming along nicely.

"Aye, slow." Jorah confirmed. "It may make a man slow, but it also keeps him alive."

Rakharo was about to speak some more, but Daenerys' handmaid slave Irri came up to them determinedly and spoke in Dothraki to Rakharo. "Khaleesi zala meme adakha esinakh ajjalan. Ogi loy mawizzi."

Jon didn't understand a word of what the girl had just said other than Khaleesi and rabbits, but he did manage to understand Rakharo when he said. "There are no rabbits."

"Ezas loy alegri h'anhaan. Mori allayafi mae, jin alegra." Irri replied, again too fast and too difficult for Jon's basic knowledge to understand.

Thankfully, Jorah whispered into Jon's ear as Rakharo responded. "The Khaleesi wants something different to eat tonight." Jon nodded his thanks.

Rakharo must have chastised Irri a bit judging by his tone, but Irri was very determined. "Dogs then. I have seen many dogs." She told them.

"I don't think she wants to eat dog." Jorah interrupted the slave girl.

Irri took a moment, and then looked at the Mormont knight and spoke in the common tongue. "The Khaleesi have baby inside her." That rocked Jon, as well as the other two men sat around the fire. Jon however realised that he almost felt disappointed at the news, maybe even slightly angry. Shoving away the unnecessary feelings, he waited for Irri to continue. "It is true. She does not bleed for two moons, her belly start to swell."

Jon couldn't look anywhere but directly at the fire as he began to process the news. He couldn't speak in case his tongue said something that he would regret. Thankfully Rakharo broke the silence with something that Jon could understand. "A blessing from the great stallion."

"She does not want to eat horse." Irri told them all.

Jon reached around into his pack and pulled out a few of the treats from Winterfell. "Here, give the Khaleesi some of these." He offered. Irri looked at him suspiciously but took the biscuits.

Jorah leant forwards, stroking his beard with one hand. "I'll have the boys butcher a goat for her supper too." He added.

That appeased Irri, as she nodded sharply and fled the room. Jon breathed out heavily, staring back into the flames. "Wow." He said finally, as it was all he could say. "I think I'm going to get some sleep." He told the pair, not looking back at them as he walked over to his bedroll next to a snoring Jory. Sleep didn't come easily however, as all he could think about was the baby growing inside Daenerys Targaryen.

Stannis' integration into life in King's Landing had been effective to say the least. With the Stormlanders came more than enough food and medical care for the city to recover, and the Lord of Dragonstone had immediately sent the Maesters that had travelled with the Stormlanders and other healers out to help the smallfolk recover from their wounds from the battle.

Robb meanwhile had spent the majority of his time either sat in council meetings as the commander of the Northern forces or spending time with Bran, teaching him about how to look after a direwolf, sparring with his younger brother and even talking about married life and what Bran could expect. It had been good, the heir to Winterfell would admit. That was until the news came from Winterfell.

He was sat at the small council chamber with his hands clasped together and elbows on the wooden surface trying not to lose his cool as Stannis, Davos and Yohn Royce were actively discussing the Ironborn, as the other two Northerners, Roose Bolton and Wylis Manderly, alongside Lord Redfort and Morton Waynwood kept quiet. His thoughts went back to the vision that Torrhen showed him of Winterfell bearing the banners of the golden kraken, of Theon and Yara Greyjoy inside the castle, of Ser Rodrik Cassel losing his head. His knuckles went white as he clenched his hands tighter.

"Where will they go next?" Lord Royce asked the room.

"The Fever River and Moat Cailin." Roose Bolton answered. "They'll try and take our only route home."

Stannis looked at Davos for a moment. "What if it wasn't your only route?" The former smuggler asked.

"There is no other way around the Neck, Ser Davos." Lord Redfort told the man smugly. "Enough Valemen have tried and failed in the past."

"We have the Royal Fleet." Stannis told the Valeman. "The entire Royal Fleet."

That made Robb look up. "Could it carry the Northmen that are here?" He asked.

Davos nodded his head. "It will likely be a bit of a squeeze, but I don't see why not."

Stannis agreed. "Lord Robb, if you lead your Northmen back to White Harbour and march to defeat the Ironborn and either capture or burn as many ships as possible, we will then sail the Royal Fleet around Westeros and launch an assault on the Iron Islands after the Lannisters are defeated."

Robb looked at his two Northern counterparts. Wylis Manderly didn't know what to do, but Roose Bolton just nodded the once. "Aye, we can do that." Robb answered. "And we can lend our ships to you as well. There isn't a large number yet, but they're sturdy."

"Aye that will be more than helpful." Davos stated.

"We have ships in Gulltown too." Lord Royce told them. "More than enough for a good invasion party."

"And more than enough to decimate the Iron Fleet." Stannis added. "Very well, how soon can the ships be ready?"

Davos thought for a moment. "A week, maximum."

Stannis nodded at that. "Good. Then I believe that is all for today My Lords." The men in the room began to leave one by one, but Robb was called back by Stannis. "I wonder if you could do His Grace a favour, Lord Robb?"

"Aye, I could." Robb said.

Stannis moved over to a window and looked out of it. "There's a blacksmith in the city. A bastard of my brothers. I would ask you to take him North with you."

That wasn't what Robb was expecting. "You want me to take King Robert's bastard North?"

"Yes." Stannis answered. "Varys still hasn't been found and that concerns me more than it should. Queen Walda is also due in the Capital at some point and will no doubt bring a large contingent of Frey's." He said the last part extremely bitterly, Robb noticed. "I do not trust the Frey's, nor do I trust Varys. If either of them were to find out about a male born of Robert's seed…"

"It would cause trouble." Robb completed. "Aye, I share your concerns there My Lord. We'll find a place for him in the North, either in Winterfell or Moat Cailin I'm sure so we can keep him with a Stark."

Stannis looked appreciative of that, and Robb almost noticed him breathe a little easier. "Thank you, Lord Stark. You best prepare your men. I'll have Gendry sent to your camp before you leave."

Robb bowed his head quickly and departed the room, eager to spend as much time with his brother as he could before he left King's Landing.

After the quick wedding of Alysanne Lefford and Eddard Karstark, given to the second son of Rickard Karstark as a reward for being the one to slay Lord Leo, and a week of marching to Sarsfield, the resulting battle for the small Westerlands castle and the taking of it was over relatively quickly. With Lord Sarsfield away at Casterly Rock the garrison had been quickly overwhelmed and the green arrow banners of House Sarsfield had been replaced by the crowned stag of Baratheon. Things were looking good for the alliance, but a rider from the Golden Tooth bearing news from King's Landing changed all of that.

Robert had gathered all of the commanders in the main hall of Sarsfield and explained it all. "My Lords, Sers. The capital is ours once more!" He exclaimed. "Lord Royce and Robb Stark together incited a revolt within the city itself against the rule of the traitor Littlefinger, and now the fucker's head is impaled on a spike. My brother and apparent heir, Lord Stannis, now rules there in my stead. He does however bring news from the North." That intrigued everyone but Ned, who had been warned of it all beforehand. The Stark patriarch instead just sat there beside his son scowling. "Balon Greyjoy has decided to attempt his pity excuse of a rebellion once more and has made for the western coast of the North."

That sparked outrage, especially from the men and Mormont's that held lands on the west coast. Ned felt Torrhen tense up beside him. Maege Mormont got up and roared. "What holdings are threatened?"

Robert picked up his goblet and slammed it on the wooden table for silence. "All I know is that the North is holding! Deepwood Motte is among those that have thrown the Ironborn back into the sea, and they are now wasting their efforts upon the Saltspear and the Fever River!"

That brought more shouts, including that of Lord Wendell Glenmore, the Lord of Rillwater Crossing and a vassal of Lord Ryswell. "Let us go home and defend our keeps!" He roared.

Ned stood up then, and instantly the Northmen went silent. "My Lords, we prepared for this." Ned explained calmly. "Robett Glover and the Flints of Flint's Finger have done their part, and now the Ironborn seek to raid us further inland and take Moat Cailin, a castle that they shall never hold. I swear to you, Lord Howland will hold out, and my heir is due to depart King's Landing very soon with the entirety of his host and will smash the Ironborn back to the rocks they came from. Once this war is finished, we shall have our revenge I swear it."

That brought forward some murmurs of agreement, and Robert continued speaking. "For now our task is clear. Do what we are doing and break Tywin Lannister. From here it is a clear road to Lannisport with only villages in our way."

Louder cheers and cries of victory followed, leaving a smug Robert to lean back in his chair until the meeting was called to a halt, and the Northmen and Rivermen all began to vacate the room barring Ned. "Some still won't be happy." Ned warned. "It is their home, their people that are dying."

"Use your magic tongue again." Robert chuckled. "By the Seven Ned, all you had to do was stand and they all shut up."

Ned just shrugged. "They respect me, as I respect each and every one of them."

"You'd make a great Hand." Robert smiled, although Ned just scoffed.

"Your Grace, I'd be a terrible Hand." Ned insisted knowingly. "I know nothing of southern politics. The Northern life is a simple one, and I would keep to that until my last day."

Robert shook his head, standing up from his chair and closing the distance to his friend. "I need men around me I can trust, Ned. I've had too little of that lately and look at where it's gotten me. I trust nobody more than you."

"Me? All I've done is followed you into war once more, Robert." Ned said humbly. "Look eastwards for your new hand. There is a man that's served you exceptionally since he was asked to hold Storm's End through a siege while we fought in the Riverlands."

"Stannis?" Robert asked amusedly, before bellowing out a laugh. "My sour brother as Hand of the King?"

"I could think of no better." Ned told the King seriously. "He held Storm's End and kept Renly alive against all odds. He served you in building an entire fleet in a record time, only to be beaten to Dragonstone by a storm and childbirth. He led a fleet against the Ironborn and defeated them in his first experience at leading a fleet. While Robb and Yohn may have taken King's Landing from Littlefinger, Stannis has led the city in your name. He's a capable man that's far more suited to the role than I."

Robert just watched on as Ned sang Stannis' praises, the words seeming to sink in. "Damnit Ned." He cursed. "I've treated him like shit over the years, haven't I?"

Ned smiled softly. "You've always said that I was the brother you chose, just as you are mine." Ned explained. "But that doesn't mean that I didn't also love Brandon, nor do I not love Benjen. They are my brothers too, as Stannis and Renly are yours. Mend these bridges, Robert, and name Stannis your hand."