They had scarcely entered Riverrun before the raven came. The letter was addressed to Lord Tully; with old Lord Hoster dying in bed, it was his son Edmure - a prisoner of the Lannisters until the previous day - who opened it, as lords and knights moved around their group. Ross watched as the young man's eyes widened almost immediately, and his face went sheet white. 

"What is it?" Robb asked him, frowning.

"I - I'm sorry - " Edmure broke off, turning helplessly to his uncle.

Ross felt a stab of dread at the look on his face. Ser Brynden took the letter out of his nephew's loose grip, scanning it for a moment before his expression turned the most grim Ross had seen it. He shared a glance with his nephew, then turned to them.

"Great-nephew, Lady Rosennis, best go to my brother's solar,"

They didn't question him. As they left the hall, Ren melted out of the crowd to accompany them. The Blackfish glanced at her son for a moment, but decided not to say anything. That was wise of him. Ross was tense enough as it was, for surely that letter held nothing but bad news. Possibilities were already racing through her mind, each worse than the one before, but she forced herself to focus as the door to Hoster Tully's solar closed behind them.

"Best sit down for this, my lord," The old knight sighed, pouring a large cup of wine.

"My lord?" She picked up sharply before Robb could speak.

There was a pause as they waited for the Blackfish to correct his mistake. He did not, merely held out the letter to her nephew, who warily took it without taking the offered chair. Ross' blood turned to ice, words dying in her throat.

"Lord Eddard Stark confessed his crimes against his Grace, King Joffrey on the steps of the Great Steps of Baelor," Robb read aloud, for her benefit and Ren's. "His Grace will not let such foul treason against his reign go unpunished,"

He stopped abruptly, cast the letter down to the table and sat down. The Blackfish wordlessly pushed the cup of wine at him, and he took a large swallow, clenching his jaw and looking awfully like he was fighting tears. Ross knew by now what the letter said, but part of her refused to believe it until she heard it spoken aloud, despite the awful feeling of dread gripping her stomach, spreading through her whole body.

After a moment, Ren stepped forward, picked up the parchment and read on in a monotone.

"Lord Stark lost his head at the King's order,"

Another piece of her heart broke off and shattered.

There was more to the letter, but her son left it there for now. Gods, Ned.

It wasn't like Father and Brandon, violently killed in front of her. Then, she had screamed and cursed and raged, fighting desperately to save them, doing everything in her power at the time which was, ultimately, useless. But no one could say it was her fault, she'd done all she was able.

This news was delivered by raven. Ned died days ago, hundreds of leagues away, with the fall of a headsman's blade. Ross had been oblivious at the time. Perhaps she had even been smiling. Now she couldn't imagine smiling again.

I should have gone with him. I should have done more to help him. I should have been there. Perhaps then she might have been beheaded alongside her brother as her daughter watched. Or perhaps Ned would be alive and well. It was impossible to know, but that didn't make it any less agonising. What if, what if, what if...

Her stony expression did not crack, but her mind was another matter. She heard people talking around her, her son, the Tullys, not Robb, but they sounded distant, irrelevant. Ross couldn't look weak in front of them, not even now, they had to think her unbreakable. She must be there for her brother's son, who, to his credit, was doing his best to keep a stoic face even if he didn't trust himself to speak.

"Is Cersei Lannister mad? Murdering a Lord Paramount, what was the woman thinking?" Ser Brynden was raging.

"It says by the King's decree," Ren said darkly. "I wouldn't put it past that little monster to go rogue on his mother,"

"What kind of mother can't control her own thirteen year old brat?"

"That thirteen year old brat is the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Ser, and besides, you've never met Joffrey,"

"Stark was their only valuable hostage,"

"They still have the girls,"

"We can't trade the Kingslayer for three girls,"

"They can't have known we've captured Ser Jaime, surely, or they wouldn't have dared..."

"We'd be quite within rights to kill him for this,"

At that, Ross tried to pull herself together. "Kill him, and you kill both your nieces, and my daughter," Her voice was hoarse, thick with grief, dull.

She didn't miss the brief look the two Tullys gave each other at that, and cursed her phrasing. Rumours had been flying around the camp since Jaime Lannister's suspiciously easy capture in the Whispering Wood. If she had heard them, it only made sense that Edmure and his uncle had too.

"You can't mean to let this go without vengeance," Edmure scoffed. "He was a Stark. The Northern lords wouldn't stand for it,"

Ross narrowed her eyes. "When did I say that I was letting the murder of my brother go unpunished?" Her tone was low, harsh, and the young man's eyes widened a fraction, taken aback, to which she felt a vicious satisfaction. "I can reveal to everyone several things that have the potential to topple Joffrey and his wretched mother from their lofty perch,"

She glanced at Robb, who had yet to speak a word.

"I will hold a war council this evening," His face was stony now, his voice more so, befitting a true Stark. She saw it in his eyes, the rage that had consumed Brandon in his last moments, the righteous anger in her father's eyes before he pulled on his helm. Blood. Fury. Vengeance. "Not a word of any of this until then, not until the army is settled in the castle,"

They all nodded.

"And until then?" Ser Brynden asked. "It's not yet noon,"

"I need - time," Her nephew said, voice breaking on the last word, and Gods, he was barely keeping it together.

The Tullys blessedly understood.

"Of course," Edmure said quickly.

His uncle bowed his head respectfully, and they left. There was a silence, before Ren grabbed the abandoned letter and scanned the rest of it himself.

"Sansa is safe, and Morganna," He said eventually into the heavy atmosphere. "They don't mention Arya. They do imply that Joffrey was supposed to offer Lord Stark to take the black. They don't say it outright, but it's in there. This murder is on the King,"

"Like that will get us to turn around and return home," Robb said darkly. "Is that it?"

"No," He paused, jaw tightening. "The Stark Valyrian steel sword has been seized... and was used in the proceedings at the sept,"

"They killed him with Ice," Fury flashed across Robb's expression, but then he seemed to deflate, turning to Ross. "Forgive me, Aunt," His eyes were too old to be fifteen, too old for the boy she remembered not even a year ago being excited over direwolf pups. "I must go to the Godswood,"

She nodded, wordless, her throat tight. She wanted to comfort him, but was a hairs breadth away from breaking herself. Ren clapped him on the shoulder as he got to his feet, and then he was gone.

"Mother," Ren approached her where she was stood frozen. He was grieving too, of course he was. Ned had been more of a father to him than any other, for the first ten years of his life. "I thought he'd leave the city right after I did, I thought he was safe as long as Robert was alive, I thought - "

The full truth of it all was beginning to hit her, staved off temporarily by her efforts in front of the Tullys but triggered by her nephew's words. "It's hardly your fault. I - " Her words caught in her throat. "Ren, I can't - " She couldn't talk now, not like this. Ross knew the state she was sure to be in, and didn't want her son to see her like that.

"I can help you find your rooms," He didn't wait for her to finish. Thankfully he understood.

"No," She heard herself say, perhaps too harshly, and added, "Thank you. No, I - I can go myself," Ross moved towards the door; her limbs felt somewhat detached from her body, almost like she was drunk, as she walked down the corridor. She heard her heartbeat, heard her boots clacking on the floor, heard the sweep of her dark skirts, the roar in her head, the urge to scream, to weep.

Having stopped a Tully guard for directions, she knew where she was going, and it wasn't to cry in her bedchamber. It was a bad idea, but Ross always made her worst decisions at times like these, simply because she ceased to care. What did it matter what she did, when her brother was dead anyway? Nothing would change that. What could she do to make it worse than it was?

She stopped outside the door of the tower cell, facing the four armed guards. None of them know yet, she thought. That made it easier to pretend. Just a short while now.

"I must speak with the Kingslayer," Her own voice said, cold and distant. "There is news from King's Landing," None of that was a lie.

One of the first things Robb had ordered done after the Lannister siege of Riverrun was broken the previous day was to make sure his prize hostage was secure in a cell. The guards, not willing to risk her infamous ire - the Northmen had fast mingled with with the Riverlands forces, enough to share their opinions on their lords and ladies - moved aside at once.

"Two of us will go in with you, milady," One said kindly as another unlocked the door.

The unprompted kindness made the urge to cry even worse, somehow, and it was all she could do to keep herself together.

"He's dangerous, that one," Another added. "Wouldn't trust him not to take you hostage to bargain, or kill you out of spite alone," He spat on the ground.

Once she might have smiled at that.

"Ser Jaime would not be so foolish," Ross drew her hidden long dagger out of her skirts, and four pairs of eyes widened. "He knows what's at stake. Though perhaps you'd better take this, so he is not tempted,"

She handed the knife to the guard who had spoken, who blinked down at it, surprised at the fact she had such a blade, or perhaps that Jaime Lannister would know exactly where to look for it.

Ross, once more, was beyond caring. "Remain outside, and lock the door after me,"

The guard looked uneasy. "If any harm were to come to you, milady, Lord Robb would surely be displeased with the likes of us,"

"In that unlikely event, he would know I brought it on myself," She said. "He will be much more displeased that you are preventing me from speaking with Ser Jaime about this urgent matter. Stand aside,"

The young man looked torn and glanced at the captain, who shrugged helplessly.

"On your head be it, milady,"

He held the door open, and Ross entered the room. It shut behind her, and she heard the key scrape in the lock.

"Lady Stark," Jaime was on his feet in an instant, chair scraping on the stone floor. He'd been sat at the small table, flicking through a book, which showed just how bored he was. She was surprised not to find him pacing a hole in the floor. "Welcome to my fine chambers. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He was smirking, but simply the sight of him made it worse.

"Could you hear - " Ross' voice cracked before she'd even gotten a sentence out, and his smirk dropped. "Could you hear what was being said outside?"

"I heard voices," He said. "Not words, I couldn't even tell it was you. Why? What don't you want my new friends outside to overhear?"

"I - " To her horror, her intended response to his sarcasm suddenly turned into a sob, and she immediately clapped one hand to her mouth to stifle it. But her eyes were already filling with the tears she'd been holding back since she heard her that brother was dead. She couldn't look at him, not when she felt as raw as this. Why had she come here, when she was still furious for what he'd done to Ned, for his folly with Cersei? Why not go to her chambers, where she would not be disturbed?

"Gods, Ross," Jaime's voice was sharp now, and he moved closer, a warm hand on her shoulder that only made more tears rush forward. "I've not seen you cry in a long time. Is it Ren? Or one of the other three?"

"Ned," She managed to get out, still clutching her hand furiously to her mouth in a pitiful attempt to hold her grief back, hot tears running down her cheeks and wrist as she bowed her head, refusing to look at him.

When he pulled her tightly against his chest, she resisted for a moment, then gave up, letting his arms hold her as she wept silently onto his shoulder, shaking with sobs. His display of... whatever this was - not sympathy, he hated her brother - only made her cry more. Jaime guided her to sit on the edge of the small bed, arms still around her as she clung to him.

"How did it happen?" He asked after some uncertain length of time. It can't have been too long, or the guards would have come looking for her. And wouldn't this be a fine sight for them... Lady Stark crying in the Kingslayer's arms.

Ross looked up at him, right into his eyes, and it all came out. "He was made to confess his false treason before the city," Her voice was thick with tears and fury. "Cersei made a show of it, an afternoon's entertainment for the people. He was going to take the black, but your vile son took his head off anyway," Jaime's eyes darkened as he realised she knew, but she continued, with somewhat less venom, leaning her head against his shoulder again. "Ilyn Payne killed him with Ice, his own blade, my father's sword, his father's before him, the Stark sword. Is that fitting, or cruel irony?"

"Valyrian steel," He said quietly into her hair. "It would've been quick. Payne's a poor conversationalist, but he's good at what he does. One stroke, done, as painless as it could be,"

His practical words were some small comfort. Ross knew she was hardly the easiest person to comfort. Honestly, that was likely the best thing he could've said, as meaningless platitudes never failed to irritate her. It had been like that with Aerys. Instead of telling her everything would be fine, he had brought her moon tea, cursed the world with her and promised to kill a King.

A silence.

"They thought you'd try to kill me if I went in alone," She said, sniffing. "To escape, or just out of spite,"

She felt him smile, and didn't begrudge him. Jaime had no reason to mourn her brother, given the deep mutual dislike between them, fifteen years old.

"I still might," His hands moved lower, meticulously feeling her skirts, and Ross looked up at him incredulously - gods, pick your moments - only for him to continue. "Come on, Stark, even I wouldn't try to fuck a woman weeping for her dead brother. I'm looking for your dagger. Which isn't on you, I see. Brave,"

"Clever," She corrected, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Can you honestly say that you wouldn't have have stolen it the moment you got the chance?"

"No," Jaime said unashamedly. "Though I wouldn't have killed you with it. You'd be easy enough to knock out, though without you conscious to get that lot to open the door, I'd have to wait until they came looking. That's easier than persuading you to help me, however, so I'd cut my losses, take you out and wait. There's four of them out there, the dagger would do for one, I'd steal his sword and that would be that,"

"How chivalrous. You've clearly thought this through. Right up until you have to fight your way through the entirety of Riverrun's guard, escape over the walls and make it to your father without being recaptured or killed,"

"What else is there to do in this prison, my lady, but plot escape?"

"Educate yourself," She said darkly. "There's books here. Perhaps they could teach you some caution, a lack of which is the reason you're here in the first place,"

"Ah yes," He said. "When, exactly, did you find out about Cersei's children?"

"Not long enough ago to not be furious with you,"

"I gathered that from the way you enjoyed me being dragged before you in chains after the battle,"

She laughed weakly. "I can't say you didn't have it coming. Though I enjoyed it far less than I thought I would,"

"And why is that?"

"Against my better judgement, I missed you. I had been angry - more than angry - but when I saw you... I wished all those others were gone, and none of this mattered,"

"Gods," Jaime said. "From you, that's practically a heartfelt confession,"

"I can retract it,"

"No, no," His arm slid around her again. "I missed you too,"

"Oddly sincere of you,"

"I won't make a habit of it,"

A silence.

"After the rebellion, everything was meant to be all right again," Ross said. "They don't tell you that you just keep fighting. Ned was meant to live until his teeth fell out and his hair turned white. He was meant to see his children married with children of their own. He was my brother, I - " She broke off; there were somehow more tears to cry, it seemed. "It's just a different war, a different murderer. Your son is mad and cruel, but you know that already,"

"He's not my son," Jaime said. She opened her mouth in anger, but he cut her off. "Myrcella and Tommen, perhaps, but Joffrey... She never let me near him, even when the other two grew old enough to love me as an uncle. If I'd known she wasn't taking moon tea, I wouldn't have - "

"You would. The twins didn't stop you making Tommen,"

"I'll grant you that," He said. "I won't apologise - not that you'd accept it if I did,"

"Yes, I wouldn't bother trying,"

A faint grin. "You know, you are not entirely innocent yourself. You've tried to pass Morganna off as a Bolton for twelve years. Not quite the same as passing her off as royal, admittedly, though Roose Bolton is a hell of a lot nastier than Robert Baratheon,"

"I'll take the risk on my own head. Better than dooming the Seven Kingdoms to Joffrey,"

"Unfortunately, I think you're right,"

"I will take an apology for you breaking Ned's leg for no good reason, however,"

"There is such a thing as too much novelty, and you've already cried in my arms today,"

Ross elbowed hard him in the ribs, shaking her head. "You're insufferable," She leant her head on his shoulder anyway, weary, and his arm moved to settle around her waist. "Morganna's a lot like you, you know. More so than Ren," He looked questioning, and she elaborated. "An absolute fucking nightmare,"

"Sorry,"

Ross gave him a flat look, and the faintest of amused smiles. "She thinks she's funny too," Her smile faded. "I hate to think of her a prisoner in that court. I only survived Aerys by being quiet and not openly defiant,"

"And by fucking a Kingsguard on the side,"

"I'd like to think twelve is a bit young for that," She pulled a face. "And that she'd have higher standards than the likes of Meryn Trant,"

He smirked.

"Morganna's not like me, besides. She would laugh in the face of anyone waving a sword at her, and has an uncanny knack for getting under people's skin when she wishes,"

"Cersei will realise, you know," Jaime grimaced. "The girl looks enough like me, and I don't have to remind you of how well she knows my face, not least because it's her own face too. And that of her daughter. It doesn't help that I scarcely saw her and Myrcella apart in King's Landing. If she makes a scene, draws any attention to herself at all, Cersei will notice,"

"And what will she do?" Ross asked. "Proof that her precious twin's world doesn't revolve around her, surely it won't be pretty,"

"She can't kill her," He said simply. "They'll have heard I'm a Stark prisoner by now,"

"That's counting on Morganna being able to avoid drawing attention to herself in the time it took the news to travel," Ross grimaced. "I had words with her before she left Winterfell. I hope they scared her enough. She wasn't meant to go south at all, but weaselled her way into getting a personal invitation from the Queen, which I couldn't have refused without my husband growing suspicious," She shot Jaime a dark look as he opened his mouth, eyebrows raised. "Don't,"

"I was going to say she sounds more like Cersei than me,"

"And you really thought that's any better?" Ross felt him smile, and there was a short silence. "I will see your sister dead for this, you know,"

His fingers tightened on her waist. Her head still rested on his shoulder. But Jaime said nothing. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

*

Having left the tower cell, Ross went to her nephew.

Unlike the dark, ancient, brooding godswood of Winterfell, the Riverrun godswood was a bright and airy garden with elms, redwoods, wildflowers, nesting birds and trickling streams. At its centre was a slender weirwood, with a face more sad than fierce. Robb knelt before it, his longsword stuck in the earth in front of him, hands clasped around the hilt. He might look more like his mother, but he's Ned's son in truth. Others knelt around him. Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover and more, even the riverlord Tytos Blackwood. Her own son was there, too. All those who kept the old gods.

Ross came and knelt wordlessly amongst them, beside Ren, feeling the damp earth through her skirts. A few glanced up at her approach, but none spoke. She bowed her head, hands clasped in her lap, and prayed.

"I know I'm not your mother," She said quietly to her nephew, after a while. "I know you're a lord now. But you don't have to be strong in front of family,"

He smiled bleakly. "Thank you, Auntie," He said. "But neither do you,"

That nearly set her off weeping again.

After who knew how long, Robb got to his feet, looking at her, so she rose too.

"We must call a council. There are many things to be decided. We've had word from the south. Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother's crown,"

Ross stared at him for a moment. "Is he mad?" She asked, incredulous.

Neither she nor Ren had discussed the contents of Loreon's letter with anyone, not even Robb, worried that the boy would feel honour bound to support the rightful King even after he got his father and sisters back, prolonging the war needlessly. But they were beyond that point now. Ross met her son's eyes with a pointed look, and he nodded, once. They'd tell everyone else that night, but Robb had to know now.

"Who knows what he was thinking, my lady," Galbart Glover was saying, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ren muttering to his cousin, taking him aside. She made her excuses and followed.

*

The war council was held in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. Edmure sat in the high seat of the Tullys, with the Blackfish at his side, and his father's bannermen arrayed to right and left and along the side tables.

The Northern lords sat opposite, with Ross and Robb facing Edmure. The Greatjon sat to Robb's left, then Ren, then Theon Greyjoy; Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of Ross. Rickard Karstark looked gaunt, having left his son Eddard dead in the Whispering Wood, Torrhen maimed, and there was no word of Harrion, who had led the Karstark forces at the Green Fork.

Ross had expected it to be a series of simple matters, building up to the reveal of what she and Ren had discussed in advance with Robb, but she had underestimated the ability of the lords to argue late into the night. But amidst the shouting, cursing, reasoning, cajoling, threatening, walk-outs and and slamming of tankards on the table, the crucial issues were discussed.

Her husband had re-formed the battered remnants of the other half of their army after the Green Fork. Tallhart and Frey still held the Twins. Lord Tywin had crossed the river, and was making for Harrenhal. There were two proclaimed Kings in the realm, shortly to be three when Stannis finally made his move.

Then Robb called for silence. It was the first time he had spoken. Like his father, he knew how to listen.

"A serious matter has been recently brought to my attention," He said. "Most of you have heard of Loreon Storm, bastard son of Robert Baratheon by Giana Lannister," There were several chuckles at Cersei's expense here. "My cousin, Ser Renan, is his trusted friend, and some days ago received a letter from Storm, who fled King's Landing for Dragonstone to avoid being stabbed in his sleep by his aunt's daggers. He found Stannis in possession of a letter, from my father," Robb's jaw tensed, and no one was laughing now. "It tells us what we already knew. Lord Stark committed no treason, though he did move against Joffrey," He took a deep breath. "Joffrey is not the true King, but a bastard, born of incest between the Queen and the Kingslayer,"

Uproar. As predicted. Roars of outrage and disgust, calls for the Kingslayer's head, cursing, shouting and more.

"My lords!" Robb called over the noise, and slowly they quieted so individual voices were distinguishable at least.

"That makes Stannis the King. What a helpful coincidence for him," Marq Piper snorted.

"Are you suggesting my father would knowingly try to steal the throne from King Robert's trueborn son to give to his brother?" Robb asked coldly. "I assure you, this information is correct. Stannis plans to send out an official letter when he has crowned himself,"

"So why are we hearing this from his bastard nephew?" It was a fair point.

Ross stepped in. "Lord Stannis, as I'm sure anyone who has met him will agree, is stubborn and immovable," Several snorts of agreement. "If Loreon Storm saw the necessity of fast communication with potential allies, and it did not fit with Stannis' initial plans, there would be no swaying him into announcing the news sooner. But as you will agree, this letter has changed our position greatly,"

It was best to make out that the letter was the first she was hearing of Joffrey's parentage, or there would doubtless be a lot of questions as to why Ren and Ross hadn't revealed it sooner. All she needed was more fodder to label her a Lannister sympathiser.

And then Ren, who had been silent the entire time, spoke.

"I was in King's Landing with Lord Stark for several moons," Perhaps he shouldn't have opened his mouth, it was hardly proper for the bastard cousin of Lord Stark interrupt his war councils. Several lords started to grumble, but Robb raised a hand to let him speak. "I can confirm that he was investigating the death of Jon Arryn, which likely is linked to this matter. My uncle sent me to a smithy in the city, which had an apprentice boy who was clearly one of Robert's bastards. His hair was dark, his eyes were blue, just like the King's,"

"Storm himself is living proof," Ross agreed. "A Lannister woman, the queen's own sister, gives birth to a dark haired son. Every one of the King's many bastards is black of hair, so why do his trueborn children look like Lannisters, with no trace of their father to be seen?"

This convinced many of those who didn't take his word from the start. The talk built up again, many still proclaiming their disgust at the incest, swearing to remove the abomination from the throne, etcetera. Ross sat through it all without complaint. She would sit through hours of inefficient bickering if it insured that once and for all the option of bending the knee to support Joffrey's claim was ruled out.

The discussion turned, of course, to what their long-term options were. It was a choice between two, either support Stannis or support Renly. Seemingly simple, or so Ross had thought, but the decision was linked into their short-term battle strategies, and even that matter could not be agreed upon.

Many of the lords wanted to march on Harrenhal at once, to meet Lord Tywin directly. The boldly moronic Marq Piper urged a strike west at Casterly Rock. Jason Mallister counselled patience, given Riverrun sat athwart the Lannister supply lines; they should bide their time, denying Lord Tywin fresh levies and provisions while they strengthened defences and rested weary troops. Tytos Blackwood would have none of it, suggesting all their forces converge on Harrenhal together. What Blackwood urged, Bracken opposed, rising to insist they ought pledge fealty to King Renly, and move south to join their army to his.

"Renly is not the King," Robb said, having been largely silent in the discussion. "He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be King before Lord Stannis,"

"Lord Stannis has the better claim," Maege Mormont agreed.

"Renly is crowned, and powerful," Marq Piper said. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the Queen and the boy King, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?"

"The right," Robb stubbornly insisted, sounding eerily like Ned.

"So you mean us to declare for Stannis?" Edmure asked.

"Yes," His answer was final.

"That could draw out the war considerably," Blackwood said. "Even if the Vale and Dorne stay neutral, four kingdoms versus one is a different beast entirely to two versus two versus one,"

"We cannot afford to be so divided," Mallister agreed.

"My lord father would urge caution," Ser Stevron smiled his weaselly Frey smile. "Wait, let these two Baratheon Kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce... and the safe return of his son. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms..."

A roar of outrage drowned out his voice.

"Craven!" The Greatjon thundered.

"Begging for a truce will make us seem weak," Declared Lady Mormont.

"Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer," Rickard Karstark shouted.

"You'd truly allow that incestuous bastard Joffrey to rule over us all?" Ross' cold voice cut through them all, and dozens of pairs of eyes turned her way. "Even in times of peace, that vile boy would run the kingdoms to ruin. He and Cersei Lannister murdered my brother. They hold my daughter and nieces hostage. Lord Tywin attacked the Riverlands, his men murdering, raping and pillaging as they please. None of these insults can go without retribution,"

Murmurs of agreement spread around the tables.

"My lady, it was my lord father they murdered," Robb said to her. He unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him, the bright steel on the rough wood. "I assure you, this is the only peace I have for Lannisters,"

The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords and pounding their fists on the table.

"I shall never call a Lannister my King," Marq Piper declared.

"Nor I!" The little Darry boy yelled. "I never will!"

"But who do we turn to?" The inevitable question came again. "Stannis or Renly?"

Again the shouting began. Ross thought that Robb had made his opinion perfectly clear, but evidently there were those that thought to swing things the other way. She looked at her nephew, watched him as he listened to the lords debate, frowning, troubled, yet wedded to his war. Some part of her mourned for the laughing, cheery boy he had been. But the rest was screaming for blood with the rest of them.

Suddenly the Greatjon lurched to his feet.

"MY LORDS!" His voice boomed off the rafters. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong." He reached over his shoulder and drew his immense greatsword. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at Robb with the blade. Ross sat up straight, narrowing her eyes . "There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," He thundered. "The King in the N - "

He went as though to kneel, but Ross got there first.

"No," She cut him off sharply when she realised what he was about to do. "No. That route is a death sentence for us all,"

Every eye in the room was on her, and very few were friendly, but Ross didn't care, she had to end this madness before the idea took root.

"Our demands at present are reasonable. The withdrawal of invading Lannister forces from the Riverlands. The return of all Stark hostages, three harmless young girls. Vengeance for the unjust murder of our liege lord, which we will achieve by dethroning the little monster on the Iron Throne and putting the rightful King in his place. But the moment we declare independence, we are forfeit. Who will ally with us? Not Stannis. Perhaps Renly, though he's surely the Tyrell's puppet, and we won't see hide nor hair of any southron provisions or support when the snows blow in from the north,"

"So what you are saying, my lady," Rickard Karstark said skeptically. "Is that you wish for us to declare for Stannis? Or even Renly, it makes no matter, you would rather fight for a stranger than your own nephew?"

"I wish to see my nephew alive, and my family ruling the North for another eight thousand years," She replied shortly.

A silence.

"You are a woman, my lady," Bracken said. "Women do not understand these things, their hearts are tender, meant for motherhood, not war and vengeance,"

The dead silence of the Northmen at his words made all the others shift somewhat uneasily, as Ross stared down Lord Jonos with hard eyes.

"Lord Bracken, let me tell you, I have never hated anyone more than I hated Aerys Targaryen. He burned my father alive and strangled my brother, made me watch, then laughed in my face. In return, when I watched him scream and soil himself as the Kingslayer advanced, when I watched him choke and splutter for a full minute after his throat was slit, his blood flowing out onto the floor, I smiled. I smiled more then than I did after birthing any of my children,"

Ross' eyes had not left Bracken's the entire time she spoke, and she never raised her voice, but now she looked at each of the lords in turn.

"I am a woman, and a mother, but I think you will agree, a tender heart I lack. Joffrey Waters killed my brother. I wish for vengeance, to see him bleed as Aerys did. I will wield the blade myself if that is what it takes. I may lack a cock, but I have a hand to hold a dagger, same as you," She curled her lip, hearing the Greatjon snort in amusement, seeing Maege Mormont's small smile. "Stannis or Renly, I care not who sits that ugly iron chair, so long as someone tears the Lannister King off of it,"

There was a heavy silence as she finished speaking. Most of the Riverlords looked to be varying levels of shocked at her words, some even disturbed. The Northmen were less surprised.

"For now," Robb spoke, and they all listened. "Stannis is not yet crowned, though he is King by right. We will not declare for Renly as yet,"

"An alliance of sorts could be formed, though, surely," Ren said. "It would be foolish to throw our lot in with one and alienate the other at such an early stage, particularly when Renly has the strength of the Reach behind him,"

"Perhaps we can compromise," Robb agreed. "Ally with him in some other way. But for now, we fight the Lannisters, our immediate foe,"

That brought a resounding roar of approval from most everyone.

That's why he's a good leader, Ross thought with a twinge of bleak amusement. Talking sense was all well and good, but pandering to the masses was a necessary skill also, and that was something neither she nor her son would ever be particularly good at.

She knew Robb's mind was made up, though. He was too much his father's son to declare for anyone but the rightful King. She sighed, tuning out the lords and trying to think up strategies to deal with Stannis Baratheon. 

*

Edited November 2024

Thank you for your patience! And all the reads, votes/kudos and kind comments, I'm grateful for every one, and love hearing any kind of constructive criticism, as well as your hopes for the future of this story.