Since she had been gone, a part of him felt missing. For the first time he was alone. He had no mother to make him feel like a willful boy fighting a war against the proclaimed king, nor a wife who made him feel like a man about to be father of the heir of the North and all the Seven Kingdoms.
Robb didn't even have Theon to make crude jokes and stupid remarks about the conditions in which they were living in that camp. He almost missed the jest his friend made about whores and how they were throwing themselves for free at the King in the North. In his head – and heart – he had no room for any other but Dany. He just had no clue as to why and how they had grown so close.
Still looking at his map and the wooden figurines representing the armies, Robb wished he could knock them down as easily. That way war would be over and he could go back home to his child and wife, to his brothers, and his sisters that he would save. Perhaps he would plan a trip to The Wall to visit Jon and tell him about his nephew. But that was nothing more than wishful thinking.
He was no longer fighting a war to just avenge his father's death and free the North from the claws of greedy monarchs who wanted to rule over others and enjoy the wealth of fortunes they amassed by disregarding their duties with their people. Time and battles, marriage and the loss of his father, everything till that moment had led to him to fight for the Iron Throne. There was no turning back. He had to go forward and fight war until the end. Anything less would cost him more than he was willing to pay.
As far as he knew, Daenerys no longer wished the title of Queen with the same passion as when he met her for the first time. Along the way, she had found more to live for – a babe and family. She was so different from the coldhearted woman he had imagined.
He took a small piece of raw meat and placed it in front of Rhaegal; and a part of the rather large steak was fed to Grey Wind. Watching the dragon quietly roasting his food and eating, he was reminded of Dany and her love for her children, her dragons; the last of them.
One of his hands scratched Grey Wind's neck while he kept feeding the green dragon. So far, he had behaved as much as possible for such young beast and, next to Grey Wind, had also helped him to build a reputation of a frightening being – the Young Wolf.
"You better be nice," he muttered, smirking at Rhaegal. "No more burning," his blue eyes fell upon his direwolf, "or trying to bite Olyvar's fingers. He's been the only one willing to get near you beside me."
Grey Wind looked slightly ashamed as he whined but Rhaegal was haughty like a woman he knew. Sometimes they were the only ones he could talk to because Dany wasn't there anymore.
"Your Grace?" Smalljon Umber asked as he poked his head inside the tent. He looked as tall as his father but younger and wilder if possible.
Robb lifted his gaze, as someone who was expecting to see another man replying to the greeting. He couldn't seem to get used to his new title. But he soon stood up; Rhaegal was quick to find a place next to him, on Grey Wind's back.
"Smalljon."
"We've captured a man who was lurking around the camp. He injured two men." His straight and hard face spoke about his inheritance as a Northman. "He claims to know your lady wife. He demands to see her."
His brow furrowed. "Have you told him she is no longer here?"
"No. We haven't said a thing. We await your orders."
Taking his cloak and draping it over his shoulders, Robb said firmly, "Lead the way. I want to hear what he wants with my wife and why he came."
-o-
As he approached the man held by a few of his soldiers, Robb studied him. He was older, older than his own father would have been, yet he had the same demeanor most Northmen had, but his skin signaled he had spent a long time under a sun that was far warmer than the one in those lands.
"What's your name?" Robb barked as soon as he was at reasonable distance.
The man only glared at him until one of Robb's man kicked him behind the knee. "Answer to the King!"
"King," the now prisoner scoffed as he managed to stand tall. He was a still strong and capable man despite his years; he had obviously been trained, and probably like a noble man by the way he stood. "You're only a child. Starks believe they are so honorable, so just. Think that's enough to be king?"
Smalljon drew his sword and was about to raise it against the man when Robb interrupted him, lifting his leather covered hand to stop him.
"Speak your name," Robb repeated eerily calmly as Grey Wind and Rhaegal approached from behind him.
The man's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the dragon, but not as one who had never seen such creature. He looked at it as someone who had found a known beast.
"Where is she? Her dragon is here, that means she's near. Where?" he demanded.
Looking at Rhaegal, Robb sighed. "I could very well let this wolf and this dragon leave nothing of you. They will obey and you won't see it coming fast enough." His cold blue eyes fell upon the rugged man. "Your name."
"So you can finish what your father started?"
Robb clenched his jaw and his eyes sparked with something akin to wrath. He no longer liked his father's name being spoken by those who were his enemies; and this man clearly held a grudge. For a moment he was tempted to let Smalljon rip open his throat and that his animal companions could have a feast. But he was his father's son.
"You know her. I do this for her, not you." It was an ultimatum and the man knew it. "Your name."
"Jorah Mormont."
Ser Jorah, Dany would say but Robb knew better. The man had been stripped of all titles once he dishonored his family. Maege Mormont wouldn't be happy once she found out about his return, and probably take justice with her own hands if he allowed it.
Before the man from Bear Island had fled, Eddard Stark had sentenced him to death. Ice was going to be used to behead him and now that he had returned, the punishment was still waiting for him.
"Where is she?"
Robb was a frightening image as he stood there, expressionless and cold. He was judge, jury, and executioner. He had the power to decide what to do and yet, he wanted to take his time.
"She's not here."
"Where?"
Robb approached him, fearing nothing, like a wolf studying his prey. "You have a debt pending with the North. Justice to be fulfilled."
"I was granted a royal pardon," Jorah replied somewhat nervously, but concealing it like every prideful, yet former, lord.
"Surely one you earned by doing wrong to someone." That seemed to fuel the anger of the man but Robb had no fear for anyone. He had already accepted that fear would be the one thing that could become his downfall because he would become a player to win the game. Like Dany said, he would trust no one and he would move the pieces to his favor cleverly. "Your royal pardon means nothing to me or the North. We are a free and independent kingdom."
"You might be Ned Stark's son but you are not him. You're still a summer boy and cold hasn't frozen your blood yet."
As soon as Jorah stopped talking, Robb swiftly snatched Smalljon's sword from his hands and pressed the edge of the blade against Jorah's neck.
"I'm not him, you're right. My lord father was an honorable man, just and forgiving. He was a kind man." Robb pressed the blade harder until it was almost digging on Jorah's skin, watching as he visibly swallowed. "I'm not him," he repeated. "I'm Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, King in the North. I remember. I will make my enemies pay. There's no pure honor in times like this. Father's sin was to believe in goodness. I only believe in blood; you spill it or you honor it."
"You want to be her king?" Jorah murmured. It was enough for Robb to listen to him, since he was so close.
"I am her king. And she's queen. Our son will be prince."
At that last secret being confessed, Jorah looked almost sad. "She's carrying your child? It can't be. She only agreed to marry you to sit in the Iron Throne. She promised to drink moon tea because the idea of having a traitor inside her seemed abhorrent."
"A traitor?" Robb smirked almost evilly. "She's far smarter than people believes. She's my wife. Her child is no traitor."
"Kill me," Jorah spat, seemingly outraged and desperate. Would a life of wandering and losing do that to a man?
"Too easy," Robb replied, pulling the sword away and handing it to Smalljon. "You'll fight for me until the end of war, after which you'll take the black."
"I won't!" Jorah growled angrily at the orders of a man who was still a child in his eyes.
"You will because you love her," Robb stated simply and Smalljon Umber's eyes widened, just like those of the handful of man around them. "Would you let me die? Would you kill me in my sleep? Would you disappoint her by letting her husband die when she needs me to get her throne and loves me enough to give me an heir?" Robb's hand fell heavy upon Grey Wind's back to pet him absentmindedly. Rhaegal wailed as he pressed his muzzle against Robb's arm, showing where his loyalties rested. "Your weakness, Jorah Mormont, is to love so much, you're willing to do anything. Would Daenerys ask you to murder Joffrey, you'd do it no matter how stupid it sounds."
"You're going to play me?"
Robb lifted his gaze from his animals to meet Jorah's piercing eyes. "I'm playing everyone now. I'm no child to be manipulated. It's my turn."
If he wanted to survive, and even more if he wanted to win, he had to hide his kind nature and forgo his black and white sense of justice. Unlike his enemies, the Young Wolf was still growing and learning. There was plenty of room for him to perfect his strategies.
"Release him."
-o-
A letter had let him know about Dany's safe arrival to Winterfell. It was quite short but penned by her hand. It told him everything he already assumed. Bran and Rickon felt lonely and they missed their older brothers – they hadn't heard much about Jon, Robb guessed. Dany was open about her feelings for him. And about Theon, she only said he wasn't very content about being trapped away from the action but he wouldn't leave for Pyke – Dacey had promised to harm him if so.
He folded the letter and wrote one of his own. He told her about Jorah and what he had done about him. For respect to her, he refrained from cutting the man's head off, but he had been extremely tempted. He truly believe he was right by the stories Daenerys had shared with him; Jorah was madly in love with her, enough to put his own needs in a second place to hers.
He sent the raven, and heaved a sigh.
There were troops to be inspected and Roose Bolton had to lead part of the army to the East while he and his dear uncle Brynden Tully, best known as the Blackfish, moved West. They would attack Lannister's lands so they would need to make a choice: defend their lands or King's Landing and the reign.
The Stark-Tully army would take the first step, taunting Tywin Lannister. Soon, from the Reach, Randyll Tarly and an army of about fifty thousand man would start their assault to meet them at Lannisport, if it came to that. They would crush them as Roose Bolton lead part of army to the weakened troops the Lannisters would keep around King's Landing, that with the help of the lords from Crackclaw Point, and the army from Dorne if his mother reached an agreement with Renly, would end the last of the enemies quicker than many would've thought.
It was a dark, moonless and rainy night. Grey Wind was in charge of leading them through the forest. The trusted direwolf was also in charge of spooking the horses of the green army, still training under Stafford Lannister, hoping to face a war they thought far from them.
In the still of the night, Grey Wind's growls felt like a cold blade piercing the air. The howling was a stab through the enemy's heart.
"The King in the North!" Men cried before rushing into the battlefield.
Robb drew his sword and thanked the gods for the dark night because blood stained everything, and had he seen it, he might have considered they were being cruel. This was hardening him, shaping him into a warlord.
Six thousands of them massacred almost all of the enemy's army, and few were taken as prisoners.
The blade of his sword was stained by dry blood once morning came, and all around him he could see dead or injured men, but few belonged to his troops.
Jorah Mormont stood before him, a small and rather apathetic smirk on his face. "You fight well, for a boy. But this is nothing."
"It's enough to let them know we're serious," Brynden Tully replied with a mix of disgust at Jorah and pride at Robb. "It's a good strategy."
"Yes, but we need to keep despoiling the Westerlands. They will see no other option but to abandon the East and… this will end."
"Is that so?" Jorah muttered as the eyes of the men scanned the field, silent sisters and healers everywhere. "Would this ever end?"
"As long as there's power to be fought over, it never really ends," Brynden said somberly.
It was something he did not wish to agree with, but Robb knew it was true.
"Then at least until next summer," because winter was coming and he wished nothing more than be prepared for those cruel times about to come, to spend them wrapped in his wife's body and knowing his family was safe.
Jorah snorted a laugh. "Funny how in the South they don't believe how merciless the cold is, and a Wolf has come and show them." Staring at Robb, he added, "maybe I was wrong. You're not your father because you're willing to take the power he was so afraid of."
Myths said his father's heart was made of stone, but Robb knew better. His father never wished more than to live peacefully with his family. He wanted all, instead. The blood of the wolf ran thicker through him even if his physical features didn't show it.
The Young Wolf would be cold-hearted, just but merciless. He would ride an enormous direwolf in battlefield, as people said. He would be immortal if he had to.