Chapter Text
Your mother is not as dead as everyone thought.
The farthest from camp they ride, the more Robb doesn’t know what he should make of it.
The mere idea is making his stomach clench, and that’s just the least of it. He shudders as they pass in front of another hanged man - it’s not even the part where his mother is apparently a living and walking corpse that is upsetting him most. It’s that his mother would be in charge of a band of outlaws that hangs people.
It’s just - it doesn’t compute. That’s not his lady mother. His lady mother was never fond of death or killing or vengeance. Didn’t she obviously want the war to end? She had always been for peace. She had never wished anyone dead - at least in his presence. And now he’s supposed to believe that she’s behind the hangings? Not that Robb wouldn’t have fought those men himself at some point, but still, it just doesn’t make sense. He tries not to think too hard about it, but then again… then again that was his mother before she was supposedly killed at her brother’s wedding and thrown into a river.
He sees Lannister and Brienne slowing down - she says something about not tiring the horses too much if they want to actually go back by midday and he wordlessly follows the order, while his mind is in an entirely different place.
He hadn’t wanted to think about the last time they spoke.
Jeyne had been ill the morning they were supposed to leave for the wedding, the night after Roose Bolton joined them at Riverrun and brought him that piece of Theon’s skin. It had been because she finally was with child, but she had thrown up for the entire night and she had been running a fever, and in good consciousness Robb hadn’t found it in himself to go with. He knew that not going would have meant disrespect, and so he had told his uncle to tell Walder Frey that he had caught a sickness as well and couldn’t leave. Edmure hadn’t protested and had merely taken it with a curt nod, but his mother hadn’t been too happy about it.
He doesn’t even remember the details of the argument - he just knows that they were shouting in minutes, and that she had told him that he couldn’t just discard his duties like that, not when the Frey alliance had been on her shoulders from the beginning. Which was perfectly right, but Robb hadn’t been thinking straight by then.
He can only feel ashamed when he thinks that the last thing that he told her mother was that he still was her king. She had stopped at that, and left the room after saying very well, Your Grace, her voice barely audible, and sounding as if she was about to break down in tears.
When he had seen them off, they had only exchanged courtesies.
Two hours later he already was regretting it. He had thought to join them - if he rode fast enough he could catch up - but Jeyne had felt sick again and he hadn’t gone. He had planned to make it up to her when she was back. He’d have apologized first thing, and thanked her for having supported him all along (maybe he should have told her out loud more). When the maester had confirmed him that Jeyne was most probably with child he had thought he’d tell her, too - he knew it would have made her happy.
If he’s a son I’ll name him Eddard, he would have told her at her return.
But it wasn’t her that returned. The only thing that returned from the Twins had been her shawl, and it had been covered in blood.
He never knew what happened exactly. The few soldiers that survived the massacre because they had been sleeping outside the castle and who came back to Riverrun hadn’t properly seen anything - the only thing he had known for sure was that her body had been thrown into the river and that his direwolf’s head was mounted atop a pike at the Twins’ entrance.
(He had felt Grey Wind die. He had sent him along with his mother for protection, and on the night of the wedding he had felt something, like a knife going through his heart but not really. It still felt painful though, enough that his frame had shaken and he had felt like someone had just shattered his ribs.
Little did he know.)
Other than that, he had heard only stories that the smallfolk had spread around, but nothing more. And he really, really doesn’t want to believe that his mother died because someone standing behind her cut her throat while she was begging Walder Frey to spare her brother while thinking that he would be killed as well.
And if his mother is so changed that she orders men hung, then is she still going to be his mother, at the core?
He thinks he’s about to vomit.
“Robb?”
Robb startles before turning his head to his right and looking at Theon. He’s speaking low enough that neither Brienne nor Lannister would hear him, and he moved so that their horses are as close as possible.
“Yes?”
“You look - you - are you going to be sick?” He looks down at his hands a moment later, as if he doesn’t know if he should have asked or not.
“I don’t - I don’t think so. But - I’m not sure about this. I mean, I’m sure about their story. It’s the rest that I don’t know about.”
Theon doesn’t press the subject as they keep on riding close, but then Robb feels like he can’t keep it in anymore. This is too big, he never asked for any of it, and he doesn’t know what he should do, and if Theon had never left and things had gone the same way regardless, he’d ask him advice now. Or he’d tell him what’s going on. And - the Others take the rest, Robb needs to tell someone this before he loses his wits, and - he said he’d try to fix things, didn’t he?
“I’m terrified, all right?” He can barely recognize his own voice.
“You’re what?”
“Do you remember my mother as being the kind of person who would order anyone killed?”
Theon shakes his head.
“I just - I don’t know what to expect, I don’t know if - if she’s even going to be my mother at all. The last time we spoke I was - I could have been more courteous to her. And now - what if she resents me?” He voices that last thought so lowly that he’s not even sure that Theon heard him. But it’s the one that nags at him most - gods, the mere idea of that happening, regardless of how much she’s changed, is enough to make him want to break down in tears. Except that the time to break down in tears is long gone.
Theon doesn’t answer outright, so Robb assumes that he hadn’t heard him at all. Better, maybe - he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to accomplish with -
“She couldn’t,” Theon says softly a moment later.
“What?”
“Your mother. I think - I think I remember enough to be fairly sure that she could never resent you.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
Theon sighs, then takes in a deep breath and looks at him. “Robb, I spent - I spent ten years in Winterfell.”
“And?”
“I know that she’d have died for any of you without batting an eyelid. And same went for your lord father. I’ve spent ten years wanting to be one of you and only ever coming close to it when you were around. I would know.”
Robb nods and swallows, hating how matter of fact it sounds. He also hates himself for having never managed to see it, but it wouldn’t be new. If only he had known back then, he knows that he might have tried to convince his father to wed Sansa to Theon rather than to that prick of a false Baratheon king, but - it never even crossed his mind. Well, he supposes he might as well spill everything out.
“Listen, I know that this is a completely wrong time and place for this conversation. We should probably take it up later in case. But - just, didn’t you really ever realize it?”
“What?”
“That - I know that it wasn’t the same for all the others. But - for what it’s worth, I never thought less of you because of your name. And I think I did a bad job of showing it, but - you should know. Regardless.”
Theon gives him a small nod and goes back to riding, and Robb doesn’t ask anything when he sees him reach out with his maimed hand to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. Suddenly he feels overwhelmed with sadness, and wishing that they could just start all over, and maybe two months ago he would have cursed himself because he knows that he shouldn’t be trying to mend whatever is left to mend between them. Right now he just wants an excuse to be able to say I was right not to kill him to all his bannermen, he wants an excuse for a proper royal pardon, he wants to just be able to try to fix things without pretending that he hates Theon still and he wants to go home.
The thing, he realizes sadly, is that he doesn’t know with whom he’ll go home, if he’s ever able to.
--
They slow down even more as the sky on the horizon line turns slightly purple.
“We’re close,” Brienne says. “If I’m not mistaken, one or two of them will show up shortly.”
“Wench, I think you two should go ahead. It was a miracle that they let me leave once already. And if he’s who I think he is, I’m not sure that it’s a good idea to bring him with.” He nods towards Theon, who keeps his mouth shut. Robb is about to object, but Lannister has a point or two.
“Your Grace,” Brienne says, “I think he’s right. If you want them to come -“
“No, as much as I loathe agreeing with him, I think he’s right as well. Theon, do you -“
“It’s all right. Go. I’m not sure that your mother would be that eager to have me explain that I never - that I never killed any of her sons. Go. I’ll wait here.”
“Lannister, you’d both better be here and alive when I get back.”
“Right, right, got the message. Go, Stark, don’t wait too long.”
They stop their horses and Robb rides forward with Brienne. He waits until they’re far enough.
“My lady, are you really sure about him? I mean, he seems - it looks like he can be trusted, but still -“
“Your Grace, I realize that - that it might sound mad to you, but… he’s a better man than he seems.”
“Really? He -“
“He killed his king, yes,” Brienne replies quietly. “I loathed him for that, too. But - at one point he told me the reasons. And - I cannot say anything about it because it should be his story to tell, but there was more to it than lacking honor.”
“What about his father planning my death, among the other things?” He’s not going to bring up what his mother had told him about Bran - as mad an explanation as I acted in the spur of the moment and I really didn’t care either way for your son was, it sounds exactly like something Lannister would say. And mean, for that matter.
“We arrived in King’s Landing after the Red Wedding. I think that while his father planned your death he was being forced to drink horse piss on the road.” She shudders, then looks at Robb again. “When we met Roose Bolton at Harrenhal, there was nothing that seemed to suggest that he was about to turn his cloak. And when he heard… I can assure you that he was as shocked as me. He’s not - he’s not the sort who schemes in order to kill someone they want dead. If it makes sense.”
“So what now, he’s trying to atone for his crimes? It’s going to take him a long time.”
“I think he merely wants a chance at showing that he’s not just the kingslayer. He means you no harm, though. Of that I’m sure.”
Robb still isn’t sure that he wants to believe it, but he hasn’t had reason to doubt them until now, has he?
He’s about to answer when two men stop in front of them, one of them dressed in red and the other wearing a crudely forged sword. He doesn’t know the one with the red dress at all, but the other bears a queer resemblance to King Robert. At least for the eyes and hair.
“You’re back already? You can’t have found her yet,” the first man says, sounding suspicious.
“We didn’t. But - we met him along the road and we thought he should know.”
Robb shrugs and pushes down the hood of his cloak. The two men gasp almost at once and share a look before nodding at each other. “Your Grace,” the one with the red cloak says before walking closer. “My name is Thoros of Myr. He’s Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill. We’re -“
“Part of the Brotherhood Without Banners, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And - I suppose she’s told you about your lady mother, hasn’t she?”
“Why would I be here otherwise?”
“Very well. You should leave your horses here - it’s not far and they should rest.”
Robb dismounts and Brienne does the same - she ties both horses to a tree and then follows the three of them along the road.
“So it’s true that - that -“
“That your mother leads the Brotherhood? Yes.”
“But - how?”
“We found her body floating along the Trident,” Thoros answers. “Our leader brought her back with the kiss of the Lord of Light, but he gave his life in the process.”
“The Lord of what?”
“The god we worship. R’hollor. The Lord of Light.”
“And your god can - can bring people back to life?”
“As long as they haven’t been dead for long. Which is why it cost Beric his own life to bring her back.”
What madness is this? Robb thinks but doesn’t say. Right. R’hollor. Wasn’t the same god that Stannis worshiped? And that his red priestess worshiped, for that matter? Surely he never heard that this god could resurrect, but he supposes that insulting him in front of his followers might not do any good.
“Your Grace? May I have a word?”
Robb turns towards Gendry, who’s looking straight at his feet now after addressing him. Robb glances at his hands - seems like he used to be a blacksmith or some similar job.
“Of course.”
“I think - what do you know of your sister?”
“Sansa?”
“No. Arya.”
“Nothing. I haven’t heard any news of her since my father died. Why?”
Gendry takes a deep breath. “Then I might have something to tell you.”
“Wait. You know where she is?”
“No. But she’s been with us, until a certain point.”
“With you?” Robb feels like fainting - the last thing he had thought he would gain from this was information about his sister, but he’s not going to let the surprise go to his head. “All right. Just - tell me from the beginning.”
“Not much to tell,” Gendry says. “There was this crow in King’s Landing - name was Yoren. He was there to recruit people from the watch - I was ‘prenticing at a blacksmith’s, but he sent me away with him. Your sister was with us - tried to pass for a man, but it didn’t fool everyone. Not me, at least. Yoren surely knew, I think he brought her along so that he could just take her to Winterfell. Anyhow, he was killed along the road and we all ended up at Harrenhal in Lord Bolton’s service. And - I don’t know what she bloody did, but she managed for me, her and the only other survivor to escape.”
“She did?”
“No idea how. She seemed to have struck a deal with some strange man, but that’s all I know.”
Robb wishes he could be surprised, but… it doesn’t seem something that his sister would not do. “And then?”
“Then we ran away and met with the Brotherhood. Beric still lead it back then. And - they captured the Hound.”
“Wait - Sandor Clegane?”
“Aye. He had turned his cloak after Blackwater, but they captured him an’ brought him over. There was a trial by battle - he won it. Then your sister left and from what I’ve heard, he captured her not long after.”
“Wait - Arya is with that monster?”
“As far as I know, but - well, we let him go but kept the money he had brought along. Some tourney’s win. Maybe he wanted to bring her to you so that he could get a ransom or somethin’ rather than to harm her. But that was the last of what I’ve seen or heard, Your Grace.”
“Right. And when was that?”
“Not long ‘fore the Red Wedding. Three moons or four?”
So it’s been months by now. Damn. Robb wants to curse or cry or scream, but Gendry has actually paid him a huge favor and he doesn’t deserve anger thrown back at him for it. Not that he could have done anything. Also, no one has found the Hound’s body anywhere near the Twins as far as he knows, so if they were headed there they didn’t get caught up in the massacre. And he left Riverrun to secure the North soon after. Maybe there’s some hope that Clegane might have kept his sister hidden somewhere hoping for better times instead of killing her. He needs not to assume the worst, or his head will explode. He’ll send men to score the Rivelands for the both of them the moment he’s back at Riverrun - for now there’s not much he can do.
“My thanks, ser,,” he finally says, swallowing down a lump and trying not to show that he’s this close to crying in relief. “I mean it. That was - that was the best news anyone has given me in months.”
“Obliged, Your Grace. I hope you find her.” Gendry sounds slightly sad now, as if he regrets not having been able to tell him more or avoid his sister being taken, and damn but he does look a lot like King Robert. Well, the way a very young King Robert would have looked.
For a moment he wonders if that might have something to do with his master being so quick in sending him to the Wall.
“May I ask you which house you’re from?” Robb asks as they walk forward. The sky is turning slightly pink.
“No house, Your Grace. My name’s Waters, I never knew my father. I always thought he was the one who paid my ‘prenticing fee - it was an unknown lord, but that’s all I know.”
“Right. And you’re from…?”
“King’s Landing, Your Grace.”
Gods be good, Robb thinks. Can it be that -
“I met your father once.”
“You did?”
“When he was still Hand. He was investigating Lord Arryn’s death, I think. He asked me some questions and - he liked my helmet. One I had just forged, I mean.”
And what did Stannis say? That Joffrey Baratheon was a bastard born of incest, hadn’t he? Actually - wasn’t that what they had accused his father of lying about? Joffrey was all Lannister in looks, wasn’t he? Robb thinks he knows why his father might have met Gendry while investigating Lord Arryn’s death.
“At least someone from King’s Landing doesn’t remember him as a traitor,” Robb sighs.
“He - he was a good man. Your Grace. If I may -“
“You may, ser, you may. Thank you again.”
Then they stop abruptly as they find themselves surrounded by more men. All wearing mismatched armor. Robb can see a small camp in the clearing behind them, and none of them look entirely friendly. Actually, they’re looking at Brienne as if they would kill her on the spot if they could. A knight wearing a dirty yellow cloak takes a step forward and Robb almost winces at how mocking his tone sounds.
“Wench, doesn’t seem like you brought Sansa Stark with you. And has the Kingslayer gone and escaped?”
“No,” she answers calmly, even if she flinches at the question. “And it’s an answer to both questions. Jaime Lannister is waiting for me a few miles back. And we wouldn’t have come back now, but - something happened along the road.”
“Oh, what? You ran into Robb Stark or what? I thought you understood that we didn’t let you go so that you could -“
“Actually, that’s exactly what happened.” Robb pushes his hood down again - he’s not going to hear this for a second longer. He still doesn’t know if Brienne is right about Lannister or not, but he believes her when she says that she’ll die finding his sister if necessary, and she doesn’t deserve this treatment.
It does have the intended effect - the entire brotherhood falls silent at once.
“So,” he tells the man with the yellow cloak when he understands that none of them will speak if he doesn’t do the same first. “Where is she?” From the way they’re all looking at each other, he’s sure he doesn’t need to specify who is he talking about. Suddenly the line breaks.
“Look up at your left, Your Grace.”
Robb does and - there’s a small hill, covered in trees - gods, he can see empty nooses on half of them. And - there’s a woman standing next to one of the trees, her head turned towards the rising sun. The sky is still a warm pink color and Robb feels sick when he sees that what hair he can see on her back is half red and half white.
He takes a deep breath, then another. “Very well.” He takes a couple of steps forward before Thoros joins him. “Wait. Let me go first - it’s better for everyone if she’s warned first. Brienne, I don’t know if you should come, but suit yourself.”
Brienne ends up stopping at the foot of the hill while Robb and Thoros walk forward. Thoros stops Robb halfway and reaches the top on his own.
Robb’s heart is beating so loud and fast that he feels like he might faint any moment.
He hears Thoros saying my lady and she didn’t bring Sansa but she was in the right and yes it is.
He takes the last steps forward until he’s reached the top and he hears a strange sound that seems midway between an intake of breath and a rasp.
Then she turns so very slowly towards him.
At first, Robb wants to scream. Her skin was always pale, but right now it’s beyond pale, a ghastly white, the flesh sagging, the fingers gnarled. Her throat is indeed slit, the wound a dark deep red clashing with the white of her flesh, and there are claw marks all over her face as if - oh gods, as if she clawed at her own skin before they killed her. What’s left of her hair is that sickly red strained in white and he manages to keep his mouth shut just out of sheer force of will. The worst thing are her eyes though - they are still that same blue, but it’s cold, almost lifeless, and he can’t do anything - not move, not speak. He’s standing there feeling paralyzed when something happens a moment later. Her eyes narrow and then go wide, barely but they do, and then he sees them fill up with tears.
She brings one of her hands upwards, covering the gash on her throat, her fingers slightly trembling.
“Robb?” she rasps, and - it’s his mother’s voice but not at the same time, the word barely distinguishable, but the way she says it and the way she’s looking at him leave no doubt whatsoever.
“Mother?” he whispers, swallowing down a lump and trying not to break down in tears as she reaches out with her free hand. He raises his own and clasps her fingers between his - they feel different than they used to, but not so much that he could mistake them for belonging to anyone else. Her grip becomes tighter in moments, and of course she wouldn’t speak if she didn’t have to - gods, Robb can’t even wrap his head around how this is even happening.
But since it is, there are things he should say, and so he moves closer so that they’re standing almost eye to eye - if he just looks at her in the eyes he can forget about the rest. For the moment.
“Listen, I have - I have things to tell you. A lot of things. Just - I’m sorry. I should have never spoken that way.”
She’s shaking her head slightly at that, but Robb doesn’t stop. If he does he’ll probably break down and he has a number of other things to say first. “And - all right. Bran and Rickon are alive.”
Her eyes suddenly become wider, and a couple of tears fall on her ruined cheeks, and Robb isn’t sure that he can keep himself from doing the same much longer. “It’s a long story, but - turns out that Theon never killed them. They escaped long before Winterfell was burned and he faked their deaths. Also - I’ve been told that Arya might be somewhere in the Riverlands. I have no clue where, but - it’s still more than we knew back then. Rickon is in White Arbor right now. I was going to get him the moment I received the news, but - things happened and I haven’t been able to. But - I swear I’ll go soon.”
She gives him a soft nod, and then she rasps something that he can’t quite understand - he gets just where and now.
“Where am I going now? To the Twins,” he answers. When she asks Edmure, he understands it even too well.
“They kept him as a hostage. But it’s not going to last long, if it goes the way I hope.”
His other hand goes to her shoulder - she’s cold. Well, she would be. Her eyes go hard at once and he can understand too well what she’s trying to tell him. Well, he would. Didn’t her brotherhood hang enough people? He isn’t sure that he can reconcile the way his mother used to be with it, but he can’t afford to dwell on that right now.
“He’s going to regret every second of it,” he hisses before taking in a deep breath. He looks straight at her again, at the tears on her cheeks, and then he tries to find his voice again. He’s this close to fainting, or at least he thinks. “And - there’s - I didn’t come because Jeyne felt sick. And she felt sick because she was with child.”
The grip on his hand becomes more painful, but it’s fine. He’s gripping back almost as hard. “And - it went well.” He swallows again, feeling his eyes burn.
A son? It’s still more a rasp than a question, but Robb doesn’t have any doubts about what she asked.
“No. A daughter. I - I named her Catelyn.”
The eyes are all his mother’s now, not - not whatever it is that she became after she came back to life. Robb tries not to shudder as he raises a hand and slowly wipes a couple of tears from her cheek. The back of his hand brushes against the open gashes and for a moment he thinks the moment I have Walder Frey in front of me I’ll make sure he claws at his own fucking face. He wants to think that he’s better than actually doing it, that he would do what his father would have done - and he’s sure that his father wouldn’t have given in to the part of him that’s screaming get vengeance and make them regret that they ever tried to do this. Or better, his father would have made them regret it, but he’s sure that he wouldn’t have been imagining ways to make them suffer.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I - I should have been there. It should have been either both of us or none. I -“
He stops speaking when her fingers untangle from his and reach up to his cheek. Her fingers are still cold, but the touch is so gentle and so familiar, and - it’s not that he doesn’t miss her, he does, he has since the moment he learned that she was never going to come back, but right now he’s aching with the realization of how much he actually had.
She shakes her head once and then she moves closer, her mouth close to his ear.
“No,” she says, and he can almost physically feel the effort. “You shouldn’t have.”
She takes a deep breath and he can feel her throat rasping as she does. He thinks that if he had Walder Frey in front of him right now he would claw at his damned face instead.
“You must live,” she says before moving back, looking as if speaking those few words was physically taxing, and it probably is. He can’t do anything other than nod and put a hand on her shoulder again, but as much as he wishes to just stop talking, he can’t.
“I don’t - I have no clue of how I can arrange it, but - maybe I can find a way to bring you to Riverrun or closer. I - I can’t just pretend that this never happened. But - please, after I go to the Twins just - I can’t let them hang people just like that. Even if -“
He stops when her lips curl up in what looks like an almost sweet smile as she shakes her head.
“What? No, I have to. I want - you should see my daughter at least once, it’s not -“
She shakes her head again and makes a motion with the hand she doesn’t have on her throat - Thoros walks up the hill and reaches them in a moment.
“Bring her,” she rasps looking downwards. Right. Brienne is still there. But - why would she need Brienne?
“Mother? What - what is this about?”
She doesn’t answer him and waits for Brienne to reach them instead.
“My lady?” Brienne asks when she’s there. She looks as if she’s about to cry. Robb can understand her even too well.
“You swore yourself to me,” she says, every word drawn out. “I have need of you. In a moment. Hold out your sword.”
Brienne’s eyes grow wide and then she shakes her head, looking distraught, and that’s when Robb gets it.
“No. No, you aren’t asking her to - you can’t be asking her to -“
He’s stopped by cold fingers touching his mouth. “I must,” she rasps again. “I know - you mean well. But you can’t bring me with you. And if - if I were anyone else - you couldn’t - let me live. Could you?”
She’s right - he couldn’t have let anyone loose in the Riverlands, hanging whoever left and right. But it’s not anyone else.
“You don’t have to do it.” He sounds like he’s begging, but he can’t care less. “Don’t. I thought - I thought you were gone, you can’t just go again, you can’t!”
She shakes her head again, and now she merely looks sad. “I - I was gone.” A small drop of blood falls down from the gash in her throat, her thin, white fingers still clasping at it. “This - is no life. I wanted - revenge, first. But - I know you - will do it. I know - you’re well. There’s - there’s no need of me now.”
“There is!” Robb interrupts. Gods, he surely doesn’t need to tell her that he does need her with him, and right now he couldn’t care less if she’s a walking corpse? But she’s shaking her head again, and she looks almost relieved now. And - right. Maybe she’s not exactly living, is she? Robb will admit that he’s selfish enough that he wants her there regardless, but - he can’t exactly fault her for wanting to be done, can he? He’s startled out of his train of thought when her hand goes to his cheek again, stroking it one last time before she smiles a smile that’s all Catelyn Tully. “Live,” she rasps again. He gives her a curt nod, not finding any adequate words. She drops her hand from her throat, exposing the gash again, and starts turning towards Brienne - who, on her part, has been still as a stone throughout the entire exchange.
“I love you,” he almost sobs at that point, figuring that while it’s not going to change anything, he really won’t have another chance to say it.
She turns towards him again, her eyes soft, and by now he can see tear tracks on both her cheeks, but - she looks almost at peace. Which is more than he could have said for the moment he looked at her first.
He stands there dumbfounded as his mother eyes Brienne’s sword and then nods at her once.
“My lady, you can’t -“ Brienne starts, but then the words die in her throat and she takes a deep breath.
“I swore I would serve you, so I will do it, but - that’s not the end of it. We will find your daughter,” she says, her voice thin but determined, and then takes her sword out of the sheath and holds it between her hands, the blade horizontal. “I swear.” Robb feels like he’s missing a part of the conversation, but maybe she doesn’t need to say more - they have already spoke about this once, haven’t they?
He wants to close his eyes. He really does. He remembers his father telling him to keep his eyes open at the first execution he witnessed, one should have the courage to both swing the sword and keep their eyes on the scene, but right now he wishes that he were five again and he could choose not to see it.
He forces himself to keep his eyes open and sees it all happening - his mother or what’s left of her takes a step forward, then two, then closes her eyes and lets herself fall on Brienne’s sword. It’s Valyrian steel and it cuts right through - it’s quick and Robb supposes painless at least. There’s a moment when he feels as if time has stopped and when he has no clue of how he should even move, and then it’s gone. He’s on a hill, the sun has just risen, Brienne’s sword is dripping with dark blood as she gently removes it and at the same time lays the corpse down on the ground.
The skin looks even paler now.
She’s smiling as if she really was peaceful when she took the last step. Robb wants to fall to his knees and possibly cry without thinking about any dignity he might have to spare, but he forces himself not to and closes his eyes instead.
He takes one deep breath. Then two. He can feel his fingers shaking, but he can will them to stop.
Damn it, he thinks, not now. Not when people can see him.
He takes a last breath and turns towards Thoros, who has been standing there, watching the scene without a word.
“Thoros,” he says, hoping he can keep his voice even. “I have need of you.”
“For what?”
“I need you to gather everyone in your brotherhood and bring them here.”
He goes and a few minutes later he’s in front of all of them. At least they all witnessed the scene, so he doesn’t need to explain himself.
“Now,” he said. “I suppose I cannot fault any of you for the hangings. I could, but from what I hear when you started this, you weren’t aiming for leaving bodies hanging around the Riverlands. But you will understand that I can’t let you roam freely. Not if I’m supposed to be a king here, for as long as it lasts. So I have a proposition for you.”
“Let’s hear it,” the man with the yellow cloak says.
“From now on, I’m considering you all pardoned for the hangings and whatever other crimes you might have committed. If any of you wants to join my army they’re welcome to. If not… feel free to act as you wish, but if you keep on acting as outlaws, I won’t be able to do anything should they catch you. For what - for what concerns my mother, or what remains of her… I’m marching to the Twins now. I will be back for her bones when I return to Riverrun, and I’ll see that she’s properly buried in Winterfell when this is over. Are these terms acceptable?”
He feels like throwing up. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t care for this. He just wants a few minutes alone with his grief, but he can’t afford them right now. The men all discuss it for a bit, and in the end the terms are deemed acceptable - no one volunteers to go with him, though.
Except for Gendry, who runs towards him and Brienne while they’re getting the horses ready. The others are all busy digging a grave that might do for the moment - Robb would have liked to stay, but he can’t. He has an army to lead, he needs to deal with the Freys and he can’t afford to be gone for longer than strictly necessary. He will have time to organize a proper funeral when he has a moment of respite.
“Your Grace?” He sounds as if he doesn’t know if he should ask or not.
“Yes?”
“You said - you said that if one wanted… he could come with you?”
“Do you wish to?”
He shrugs. “I don’t exactly have much here. I’m not that good of a swordsman, but I could be a blacksmith when you go back to Riverrun. And - if -“ he’s stammering by now, and he looks frustrated. As if he can’t find the words to put what he wants to say in an acceptable manner.
“Let me guess - you hope that I find my sister and you would like to be there when it happens?”
He looks down at the ground at that. “I know that - Your Grace, if you don’t -“
“Calm down,” Robb says. “Of course you can come.”
Gendry stops looking at the ground and glances at him instead. He looks surprised at least.
“I - my thanks, but - why would you let me -“
“Ser, my sister always was a peculiar lady and if you helped her after you left King’s Landing, there’s absolutely nothing I would have against you. Or against your presence in my army, for that matter. Also - I think I need a word with you later, but - not now. After the Freys are dealt with.”
“All right. My thanks again. Your Grace.”
He says he’ll go get his horse and so they wait for him. Brienne is looking at him with large, sad eyes, all too understanding.
“I’m sorry,” she eventually tells him before Gendry comes back. “Neither of you deserved it, Your Grace. She didn’t deserve what happened to her and certainly you didn’t deserve to go through that.”
“It’s fine,” he says, almost ridiculously grateful. “At least I could speak to her a last time. Listen, are you -“
“We’ll start looking for your sister the moment you’re back at your camp,” Brienne interrupts. “I’ll do my best to find her, and so will he, and when we find her we’re going to bring her to you. I swore your mother, I’ll swear the same to you if you wish.”
“It’s not necessary. It’s enough,” he whispers, and then Gendry is coming towards them and he gets ready to leave.
Until they reach the place where they had left Theon and Jaime Lannister, he carefully tries not to think about anything too hard.
But then they get there and from the way Lannister looks at them, it’s obvious that he guessed what might have gone down. He doesn’t say anything, just mounts on his horse and then goes next to Brienne leading the way. They start chattering in hushed tones and Robb lets them - by now he isn’t doubting either of them. Gendry trails behind them, and then he follows with Theon at his side.
For a short while, there’s silence.
“Robb?”
“Yes?”
“What happened?”
Robb looks at him and - he doesn’t think he’s seen Theon look that concerned in all the time they knew each other. I must look terrible, he thinks, and - well. He probably does. He has all the reasons. Still - in the early morning light, Theon isn’t faring much better than usual. Robb takes in his gloved fingers and the way the glove falls on itself on the left hand, his still gray hair, the fact that he really can’t afford to stay this thin much longer, then he thinks about what Theon had told him a few days ago and - gods, how can he be still on his feet after it? Robb is feeling like he might go mad just thinking about what happened and he thinks he’s growing an entire new respect for Theon right now.
“I can’t say now,” he finally manages to say. “But - when we’re back. I just can’t now.”
Theon doesn’t push it, but he keeps on sending him concerned looks and it makes Robb want to scream again because it feels right but at the same time it’s also so very not. It would have been right if nothing had gone awry, if they still were the same people they were before Theon left for Pyke. It’s not right now, not when Theon should really be worrying about himself.
They spend the rest of the ride in silence, but it’s not good - it means he has to think, and by the time they’re just outside the camp Robb feels like he’s about to shatter into pieces. He tells Gendry to go ahead and introduce himself to Lady Mormont, then turns towards Brienne.
“Good luck,” he tells her. “If - if something happens to me and you do find Sansa… please bring her to the Wall. My brother should be able to take care of her. Meanwhile - thank you.”
“I will,” she says. “For her and for you.”
“On a normal day I’d ask you if you forgot me,” Lannister interrupts, “but considering the circumstances I’ll just pretend you said thanks to me as well. Come on, Brienne, do we have to find his bloody sister or not?”
She sighs - but almost fondly - and after bowing her head towards Robb she turns her horse and they leave - in seconds they’re disappeared into the forest.
“Follow me,” Robb tells Theon before dismounting and going back into the camp. He informs Maege Mormont that he dealt with the outlaws and tells her to find Gendry something to do if there’s any need. And then - he knows he should get ready to leave now, but he’s not - he can’t. He needs a bit of time. Surely he can afford some.
“My lady, I think - I didn’t get rest at all tonight. If you think it won’t hinder us too long, I would sleep for a few hours before leaving again.”
She shrugs. “We can wait until sunset and march during the night. It would give us the advantage of surprise if we did, regardless.”
“Good. Then tell the rest of the men.”
He waits until she’s gone, then turns to Theon again. “All right. I need - come with me.”
“Didn’t you say -“
“I lied.”