Chapter 12 - The Result

Robb Stark jolted awake, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he sat up in his bed at White Harbor. The nightmare clung to him like frost on steel, vivid and relentless. He had stood in the godswood once more, the air thick with silence, Will kneeling before him, bound and trembling. Ice felt impossibly heavy in his grip, the gleaming steel reflecting the despair in Will's eyes. A cold wind howled through the trees, whispering doubts into his ears, making his hands shake. The moment his blade fell, he heard the wet crunch of steel through bone, the spray of blood across the snow. But it didn't end there.

The dead man's eyes opened, turning an unnatural blue, his mouth twisting into a grotesque smile. Robb stumbled back, Ice slipping from his fingers as the corpses around him began to rise. Will's voice came, hollow and accusing. "We are coming!" Pale hands shot out of the ground and reached for him, their fingers like daggers against his skin. The wind carried their whispers, their judgment, their blame. He tried to turn, to run, but his feet sank into the snow, trapping him as the dead closed in.

Robb was drenched in cold sweat, heart hammering in his chest. The nightmare still clung to him, the echoes of Will's voice whispering in his ears. He ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled deeply, trying to shake the lingering dread. It had been months since the execution, yet it haunted him still. But he knew it wasn't just Will's death that had disturbed his sleep. The looming arrival of the trade ship, the culmination of his ambitious ice trade plan, had his nerves frayed.

Doubts gnawed at him. Had he made a mistake? Would the South truly value northern ice, or had he miscalculated everything? He had convinced himself this was the key to strengthening the North, yet as the moment of reckoning approached, he found himself questioning every decision. If he had been wrong about this, what else had he been wrong about? Could he truly be the leader the North needed? His father had always ruled with wisdom, and Robb had always assumed he would follow in those footsteps, but what if he lacked that wisdom? What if he was merely a boy playing at lordship, making reckless decisions that would cost his people dearly? The weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon his chest, suffocating in its intensity. He had set out to carve his own path, but was he truly walking in the right direction—or merely stumbling forward, like a fool?

*****

Robb, Jon Snow, Lyanna Mormont, and Lord Wyman Manderly stood at the harbor. The vast port of White Harbor stretched before them, bustling with merchants and dockworkers, yet their attention remained on the horizon, waiting for the ship that would determine the success or failure of Robb's venture.

"I must admit, my lord," Manderly said, stroking his thick white beard, "I have been looking forward to this day with great anticipation. A northern trade endeavor of this scale has not been attempted in generations."

Robb offered a stiff nod. He appreciated Manderly's support, but at this moment, words did little to quell his unease. His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed as he exhaled slowly.

Jon glanced at him, then said, "You've worked hard for this, Robb. Whatever happens, you did your part."

Robb let out a small, humorless chuckle. "That doesn't make waiting any easier."

Lyanna, standing beside him, seemed to notice his tension. Without a word, she reached out and took his hand. Robb glanced at her in surprise, but the firm grip of her small fingers against his palm grounded him.

"You've done everything you could," she said firmly. "You made a choice and followed through with it. I believe in you."

Robb swallowed past the lump in his throat. Lyanna Mormont wasn't one to offer empty reassurances, and her faith in him meant more than she could ever know.

Manderly chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "A young lord surrounded by good company. It seems to me, Robb Stark, that fate favors those who are not afraid to take risks. And from what I've seen, you are not one to shy away from a challenge."

*****

At long last, the ship appeared on the horizon, its sails catching the morning light as it glided toward the docks. Robb felt his heart hammer against his ribs as he watched it draw closer. The moment the gangplank lowered, Theon Greyjoy was the first to descend, his expression unreadable.

Robb barely let him set foot on the dock before stepping forward. "Well?" he demanded, his voice edged with impatience. "How did it go?"

Theon hesitated, his usual smirk absent. Instead, he exhaled heavily and shook his head. "Unfortunately… all of the ice melted before we even reached Braavos."

Silence fell over the group. Robb felt the words like a hammer to his chest. The air seemed to grow colder as dread settled deep in his bones. Lyanna's hand, still holding his, tightened in silent support.

Lord Manderly sighed, rubbing his forehead. "A pity… I had high hopes for this endeavor."

Jon frowned, his jaw tightening. "We did everything right. The storage was supposed to hold."

Theon's somber expression lingered for a moment longer, then suddenly, he burst into laughter. A loud, hearty laugh that echoed across the dock. Robb's stunned expression darkened as realization dawned.

"You absolute—" Robb's voice rose in anger, but Lyanna beat him to it.

"You bastard!" Lyanna barked, punching Theon hard in the arm.

Lord Manderly let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gods save us, boy, you nearly gave me a heart failure."

Jon exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "That was cruel, Greyjoy. One day, your jokes are going to get you killed."

Theon held up his hands, still chuckling. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. The shipment was a success, Robb. Every last block of ice made it intact."

A chorus of groans and curses erupted around him. Robb, torn between strangling Theon and embracing him, settled for clenching his fists. "I should have you flogged for that."

Jon shook his head, exhaling sharply. "You're an idiot, Greyjoy. A bloody idiot."

Lord Manderly laughed, patting his large belly. "If nothing else, boy, you certainly know how to make an entrance. Though I do hope you enjoy that laugh now, because I'm quite sure Lord Stark will make you pay for it before the day is done."

Theon wiped a tear from his eye. "But then who would tell him the details?"

Robb crossed his arms. "Fine. Start talking."

Theon grinned, enjoying the attention. "The Braavosi paid handsomely. We sold all 1,000 blocks of ice at an average of 20 silver stags per block. That makes it..." He paused for effect. "20,000 silver stags, or about 400 gold dragons. And before you ask, yes, they paid in full."

Robb exhaled sharply, doing the mental math. The cost of the shipment had been between 120 and 180 gold dragons, depending on the exact transport and labor expenses. That meant their profit ranged between 220 and 280 gold dragons—a staggering success. The numbers hit him hard. This was more than just a trade; it was an opportunity that could reshape the North's economy. The weight of responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders, but for once, it was a weight he welcomed.

"This... this is incredible," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "If this continues, we could fund more than just trade. We could build roads, improve our ports, even increase our food reserves."

Lord Manderly let out a deep chuckle. "Young Stark, you may have just secured the North a new future. That kind of profit will fund entire fleets, rebuild roads, and bring prosperity to our people. I daresay this is only the beginning. The Free Cities will clamor for more, and if we play this right, we may find ourselves in a position of immense strength."

Jon clapped Robb on the back, his usual reserved expression replaced with something close to excitement. "Well done, Robb. We did it."

Lyanna smirked, crossing her arms. "I told you I believed in you. You should have more faith in yourself."

Robb nodded, still processing the gravity of their success. His mind raced with possibilities. Expansion. Better storage facilities. More efficient shipping routes. This venture could make the North wealthy beyond measure.

Before he could fully take it in, Theon cleared his throat, an impish grin forming once again. "There's more," he added, eyes twinkling. "A Braavosi merchant arrived with us. He's eager to discuss expanding the trade further and placing another order. He wants to meet you personally."

Robb straightened, his mind already shifting to the next step. "A merchant? What kind of order are we talking about?"

"Large-scale, from what I gathered," Theon replied. "This isn't just about drinks for the wealthy anymore. They're considering ice storage for food preservation, cooling entire halls, and other things that frankly flew over my head. But if we handle this right, Robb, we won't just be traders. We'll be pioneers."

Lord Manderly chuckled once more. "Then we best make sure they understand who they're dealing with."