Chapter Text
”Your Grace?”
Robb looks up from his maps, almost startled, to see his great-uncle standing at the entrance of the room. He spares a look for Theon, who’s still sitting in front of Robb’s desk, but he doesn’t seem that he has an opinion one way or the other. Better than disapproving, Robb supposes.
“Yes?”
“Our man in King’s Landing just sent in a raven.” He doesn’t say anything more even if Robb nods at him, ready for the next part.
Theon stands up from the chair at once and Robb bites his tongue - after all, no one can know what just transpired, right?
“I’m – I will go back to my room, if it please Your Grace.” He’s resolutely not looking at the Blackfish’s way.
“Of course. You may go. If you need directions just ask the guard.”
Theon leaves, walking on unsteady feet and with his shoulders hunched, and Robb tries not to curse under his breath. He goes to lock the door before giving his uncle his full attention.
“What was it?”
“Well, he had written a short while ago -“
“Yes, he said that Cersei Lannister wanted to send her bloody brother to lead the army currently residing outside the Twins. So?”
“Apparently… well, apparently the Kingslayer turned his cloak.”
For a moment Robb finds himself completely speechless.
“Come again?”
“He turned his cloak. Or better – it’s not that he changed sides, he just disappeared in the middle of the night. Along with that woman that my niece had sent to escort him.”
And who never came back because it’s not as if Sansa had been in King’s Landing when they reached it, Robb muses. Not that it was a long while ago, and considering that she had never sworn herself to him, Robb could hardly have expected her to come back. Especially since he’s been on the move since the damned Red Wedding.
“I suppose that the queen isn’t too happy about it.”
“You would suppose right. But there’s something else we should worry about.”
“Wait, if he’s gone then he can’t go to the Twins, right?”
“Exactly. And they were apparently expecting him, so -“
“So they don’t have a decent commander.” The Blackfish gives him a firm nod and Robb thinks that maybe he can swing this to his advantage.
He needs to take care of the Freys before even thinking about marching with Stannis, and Stannis is still gathering men at Storm’s End – if he puts together a small trusted army and attacks the Twins without anyone expecting it while they have no one capable to organize a decent defense, maybe he could hope to do it without too much bloodshed and without risking his uncle’s life. The gods know that he doesn’t want to leave here, not now especially, and that he’d rather go to White Arbor to fetch his brother, but if they don’t strike now someone capable might come from King’s Landing and they would only lose time.
“Can we gather the bannermen now? I need a council called. Possibly before the next two hours. Or before the evening at latest.”
“Of course. Do you want Lord Seaworth to attend, too?”
“Yes,” Robb replies. “I won’t ask him to come if he doesn’t want to, but if Stannis sends a raven while I’m not here at least he should be able to answer.”
“Very well. Should I fetch you from your chambers in two hours or will I find you here?”
“My chambers,” Robb tells him. If he’s leaving in a matter of days he would like to spend a bit of time with his wife.
They both leave the solar and Robb goes straight for his room, but he changes his mind mid-way and goes for Theon’s first – he’s kind of feeling bad for not having even tried to make up an excuse so that he could stay. And he feels ridiculous for feeling bad about it because the gods know he shouldn’t.
He knocks on the door before walking in.
“It’s Robb,” he says a moment later.
“It’s open,” Theon answers. Robb walks inside the room and - well. The last thing he had been expecting was to find him in front of the mirror looking mostly dejected.
“What’s going on?” Robb asks as he moves closer.
“Nothing of import.”
“There’s a knife on that bed. Nothing of import?”
“I wasn’t going to kill myself, Robb,” Theon replies almost tiredly. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, but the thing is that, if Robb isn’t wrong, he’s looking a bit embarrassed, which… well, would be an improvement, all things considered.
“And even if I think you’re telling the truth, I would still like to know.”
Theon sighs and moves to sit on the bed. “I can’t look at this anymore,” he finally says before his hand touches a strand of hair.
“So you wanted to cut it?”
“Well, the color won’t improve but it would still look less bad.”
Robb can see his point. “And?”
Theon shrugs again and grabs the dagger with his right hand. It starts shaking the moment he touches it. Then he takes it between the three fingers on his left and it shakes harder, enough that the knife falls to the ground.
“After the fourth time I figured it was useless,” he concludes, and he sounds more resigned to it than upset. Then again to whom would he ask for help? Robb figures that he still has time before the council, and really, by this point he needs to stop telling himself that he shouldn’t care. He might as well own up to it entirely.
He nods and grabs the knife from the ground before moving to sit behind Theon on the bed.
“Robb, what are you –“
“What do you think I’m doing? Stay still.”
Theon does that at once and Robb doesn’t really like it at all – he hadn’t even phrased it as a command or an order or whatever and Theon is staying so perfectly still right now, not even a finger moving. He tries not to shudder as he takes the knife and starts cutting strands of grey, ruined hair from the back of his head.
“I might go for the Twins in a few days. Actually I was hoping to leave tomorrow,” Robb says, trying not to sound as if what just happened made him uncomfortable. Grey hair falls down on the bed’s cover.
“Did something happen?” Theon is speaking so low that Robb can barely hear him.
“Apparently Jaime Lannister grew tired of court and ran off the gods know where. And he was supposed to go defend the Twins, so… it’s either now or never.” He moves to the left side and cuts more hair - he leaves an inch of it but he tries to cut as much ruined strands as he can.
“It’s – it’s not risky, is it?”
Robb doesn’t even need to wonder why Theon would ask that.
“I don’t think so.” He takes a deep breath as he moves the knife to the other side. “But if you want to come with, I can arrange it.” He shouldn’t have said it – he thinks he could arrange that only if Davos Seaworth decided to come, because he isn’t sure that he can trust anyone else around Theon right now – and not because of what Theon might do.
“I can’t -“
“I know you can’t be in a battle. That’s not what I meant. I can always say you’re coming along because I want to be sure you won’t try to escape, everyone would fall for it.” The blanket on top of the bed is covered in gray chunks of hair now – Robb thinks he wants to vomit at the sight, but instead of doing that he pushes most of it on the ground and sets on working on the last strands. “You don’t have to say yes,” he adds a moment later.
There are a few moments of silence as Robb cuts the few remaining long strands of hair left on the front of Theon’s head – what’s left now isn’t more than an inch long. The color is still disgusting, but at least the hair itself looks slightly healthier. He’s running the back of his hand over Theon’s neck so that the remaining strands that fell on his shoulders end up on the ground when Theon lets out a huge breath and finally stops standing still like a block of ice.
“I want to come,” he says weakly as Robb puts away the knife and moves from staying behind him to sitting next to him. More hair falls to the ground as Robb brushes it away from the blanket. “But if it’s a problem –“
“I’ll see about it,” Robb cuts him short. Then he takes a good look at him – well, short hair looks strange on him because he’s never had it like that, not as far as Robb can remember, but it’s still better than the alternative. “And I’m sorry about before.”
“You had to,” Theon says before turning back towards the mirror. He takes a good look at himself as well, though he doesn’t seem too pleased. Then again, he doesn’t seem too unpleased either – better than nothing.
“Thank you,” he says a moment later. His voice still sounds small. Robb doesn’t even think about it before reaching out and running a hand over his cheek - at least the stubble is dark.
“It was nothing.” He swallows. “Right. I have to go, I need to see Jeyne before going to the council. I’ll let you know.”
“Of course. Thanks.” Robb wishes that Theon would just stop thanking him, but he knows better than to try and dissuade him now. He thinks about the way he went still before and he wants to vomit all over again.
--
“I have to leave for the Twins shortly,” he tells Jeyne later, as he lays down on the bed – she’s already sitting up against the headboard, their daughter sleeping against her breast. Robb can only see brown hair against Jeyne’s chest, the rest of her covered in an embroidered blanket, and he’s half-sure that if someone were squeezing his heart in a fist that’s how it would feel.
“Did you find a way to get there safely?”
“No, but they might be going through a convenient void of power. Better now than waiting. I just – I was hoping that I could go get my little brother instead, but I can’t postpone this. I also was hoping to spend more time here before I have to leave for King’s Landing.”
With you and my daughter, he doesn’t say, but from the way Jeyne is looking at him he thinks that she understands. She reaches down with her left hand and laces her fingers through his. “I understand. I’d rather have you go now and come back alive, though, if going now means less risk.”
“It does,” he agrees. “I just wish it was done already.”
She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back. When Catelyn starts to stir he motions for Jeyne to hand her over – gods, she really has his mother’s eyes. Well, his own, too, but that’s not the point. He forces himself not to cry at the though as he cradles her against his shoulder. Then Jeyne takes a deep breath and Robb has an idea that he won’t like what she’s about to say.
“Robb – I think – listen, I’m not sure my mother should be allowed to remain where she is.”
“What do you mean?”
“She – she sent for me more than once. Well, she told her guard that she wished to speak to me and I always refused. But – she asked again this morning and I figured I would go if only to tell her that I wasn’t interested in whatever she had to say.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing of import. She tried to justify herself and I told her that I didn’t really care, but then I took a look around and – Robb, there is ink and paper in that room. I don’t put past her that she might try to corrupt the guard or something like that, and I think she was writing a letter.” Her face looks pained right now – of course it does, she’s condemning her own mother, isn’t she. Robb can’t help feeling like he’s been ruining everything he’s touched since they put a crown on his head. “I just – I can’t ignore it. You almost died once and she had a hand in it, I can’t risk it a second time.”
He puts his free arm around her, drawing her against his shoulder – she goes in a moment, almost melting against his side. “Thank you,” he says, his throat feeling choked. “I wish it wasn’t like that.”
“Me, too,” she replies thinly, and neither of them speaks until the Blackfish knocks on Robb’s door and he has to go.
The moment he closes the door behind him he takes another deep breath. “Uncle, could you please send two guards to Lady Sybelle’s tower? Tell them to search her desk – no, to search the entire room. If they find letters of any kind, I want her back in a cell and the letters brought to me.”
“Do you think that she’s dangerous?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure as the seven hells not going to fall for it twice.”
The Blackfish tells him he’ll do that and that he’ll join him at the council shortly. Robb leaves wishing that he knew how did everything go so wrong.
--
Thankfully all of his bannermen agree on moving on the Twins now, and on Robb’s strategy - they agree on leaving in the morrow, with a smaller army of trusted men. Davos Seaworth says that he will come along, too, since he received a raven from Stannis telling him that it would take him longer than a week to finish his business and head for Riverrun, so he doesn’t have to be here. When everyone else is gone, Robb stops him before he leaves as well.
“My lord, can I ask another favor of you?”
“Of course. If it’s in my power.”
“I was in the mind of bringing Theon along. Actually, he said he wants to go, and I’m still sure that some of my bannermen would take the occasion if it meant having his head. I realize that it sounds demeaning, especially when I’m not your king –“
“You would like for me to keep an eye on him when you can’t?”
Robb understands more and more why Stannis likes this man. He doesn’t dance around his words, that’s for sure, and to be honest Robb finds it refreshing.
“If you would. I understand that you might not -“
“I would,” Lord Seaworth interrupts. “I mean, I doubt my fighting skills would be much use to you - ship battles are more my expertise. I wished to come mostly because… well, I never was much used to living in a castle. Or to being attended to. I would rather feel like I’m doing something useful. I can do it.”
“My thanks.” Robb doesn’t try to hide how relieved he sounds, not when Seaworth knows whatever is there to know.
“It’s no problem. And don’t think that I might find that request demeaning. I used to smuggle for a living, Your Grace – nothing you can ask of me or that my king could ask of me will ever be demeaning. And your friend is hardly the most unpleasant person I ever dealt with.”
“My thanks again.”
At least that went good, he decides.
Then his uncle approaches him and hands him a handful of letters.
“Were these –“
“They found them under the mattress. She’s currently residing in the Kingslayer’s former quarters again. But if you look at the dates, is seems like she hasn’t found any means to send them or any others. Which is a good thing, at least.”
Robb doesn’t really want to read any of them, but he knows he has to.
They’re all addressed to King’s Landing – obviously. There’s plenty of information, including how many men he currently has, that he now has a daughter that could easily be harmed and also the details of his deal with Stannis – damn, she must have learned about it before they found her out.
He doesn’t even go past the second letter.
“Leave her there until I’m back and bring her food twice each day. Never the same guard. When I’m back I’m going to deal with her, and with Roose Bolton as well, but I can’t afford that right now. And put her in bloody chains – maybe she won’t be tempted to write letters.”
At least he doesn’t have to be the one to break Jeyne the news. Or better, he has to, but it’s probably nothing she isn’t expecting. He’s never wished this hard that things went differently.