Suitable Reward

He could feel it upon his cheeks.

The cool crisp air flowed down the Neck and washed over his body. Rain pattered down outside, drumming against the stones of the balcony, turning the thin coating of snow that had fallen into grey slush. It was not a pretty sight, but just the sight of it filled him with a sense of comfort that he had in recent times, only been able to find upon the battlefield.

But he was close now, so very close.

They were still two weeks away from arriving at Moat Cailin, but in three days, they have finally entered the North. Even from here, in his chambers at the Twins, he could see the thick layer of snow that had slowly crawled down from the North, out past the swamps that acted as the main landmark indicating the beginning of the North and the end of the Riverlands. Once there, Robb knew that the war between him and Stannis would begin in full.

He was the biggest threat in the Northern Campaign.

Though he had made no moves since taking the Wall, his inactivity had caused concern for many. In a situation such as his, any man, fool or otherwise would have attempted something to get themselves into a more advantageous position. The fact that he had not meant he was either the biggest fool in Westeros, or he had something prepared for them all.

Robb did not know which, but he was not about to let himself get caught by surprise either way. Luckily, he had Jon and the Wildings to the North, they were already making moves from what the most recent ravens had said. The information on Jon's plans was sparse, but that was purposeful should they land in enemy hands. However, from what little he had been told, Robb had an idea of what he was planning.

It was a good plan, though in all honesty, while risky, Jon's plans had been good throughout the war. However, his situation had been disastrous and there were too many moving parts and too many good plans from his enemies for it to turn situations around.

Though it was a good plan, Robb did not feel at ease.

But it was nothing to do with the North and the threats there, it was all to do with the Lords in the Twins and outside where his army was camped. He could see the greed in their eyes, they didn't even try to hide it anymore. In their eyes, the war was over and they expected to be rewarded for their part in his victory, no matter how big or small it was.

He had already been approached on numerous occasions on the walk North with them not so subtly trying to influence his decisions on the rewards they felt they deserved. If he could, he would remove the head of any man that came to him speaking of reward, but as Joffrey and the Mad King proved, executing lords in such a fashion rarely went well for them. He would be a fool to follow in their footsteps, no matter how tempting the thought of it might be at times.

A knock at his door, brought Robb back to reality, focusing upon Arya standing outside, uncaring of the rain that fell on her, soaking her hair and clothes. "Arya, come inside now, you'll catch a cold." He then turned, opening the door to reveal Olyvar Frey and Robar Royce. "What is it?"

"The feast is prepared, your grace," Robar explained, bowing his head.

"The lords are waiting for you." Olyvar finished, Robb, frowning deeply at the thought.

No doubt he would be bombarded with their attempts to suggest suitable rewards for themselves, no matter how ridiculous they were. "Very well," Robb followed the two outside, turning to Brienne who stood outside. "Make sure Arya gets dried and dressed before she comes down."

"Yes, your grace." Brienne bowed, Robb, walking away with Olyvar and Robar flanking him.

-X- Line Break -X-

Throughout the war, Robb had been met with many visions and dreams of how the War of Five Kings could have gone and perhaps, should have gone. They started vague, encompassing everything the war had to offer with strange images of stags, lions, wolves, krakens and figurines denoting houses and their actions. Robb had been left to try and decipher what they meant, why they came to be and what that could mean in the long run.

He also had to figure out who they were.

Who amongst the Lannisters represented the lion?

Who amongst the Starks represented the wolf?

Who amongst the Baratheons represented the stag?

It had been easier said than done when houses often had many members and in the case of larger houses, branch families that could also play a role in the grander scheme of things. But as the war progressed, deviating from the visions he was sent, they became clearer and clearer till he saw moments with clear clarity.

None had been more vivid or stuck with him more than his own death, right here in the Great Hall of the Twins.

As men and women laughed and cheered in the festivities hosted by the new Lord of the Twins, Aegon Frey. A fool who was known as Jinglebells, one who lived for festivities and seemingly made a fool of himself as he danced and pranced around like a jester, hardly befitting the status of a lord. The true lord of the Twins seemed to be Walder Frey's second son, Emmon Frey, who was sat across the room, surrounded by his family, or what remained of them anyway.

But as Robb looked across the room, all he could see was the moment of his death. A wedding, a joyous moment that would have seen his uncle, Edmure Tully marry Roslin Frey and secure the Frey's support, turned into a massacre as they betrayed him. Crossbow bolts rained down from the rafters, daggers drawn from sleeves, used to cut down those loyal to him, the King Who Lost The North.

Yet amongst the slaughter, he rose, crossbow bolts protruding from his body as he looked upon the swollen stomach that had held his unborn child, dead in its mother's womb. His death had not been glorious, it had been unceremonious and a cruel twist of fate that resulted from him being an honourable fool.

It was a moment that had left him reeling, even when it had not been him who died, but had been a future, and then a past that had never come to be. The sight of his death, the sight of him pressing down upon the bleeding stomach of his wife in a desperate attempt to save her and the child within her. All of it had been too much, too real for him and he had no understanding of how to handle it.

But what it had done was taught him a valuable lesson.

Honour could only get one so far.

He had allowed his sense of honour, a foolish hope of being like his father to dictate his actions and in turn, died because of it, just like his father. It was not a mistake Robb would make and he would do everything he could to make sure that if he died, it would be meaningful. His death would not spell doom for his family, but instead, allow them to live long and fulfilling lives.

"Your grace," Robb turned, looking to see a nobleman walking up the stairs towards him. He could see the look in his eyes, the shine of greed that was plain to see and Robb frowned. "I was wondering if I might perhaps, ask you something of importance?"

Robb nodded his head, indicating with his hand to say what he wanted to say.

"My family and my holdings have given a great deal to you in your campaigns." The man said a few more noblemen making their way up towards him. No doubt they would hear what he had to say and dependant upon his response, either try their luck as well or simply walk away.

Luckily for him, Rodrick, the new Lord Forrester had been around Robb to know precisely where this conversation was going also. "And you wanted to know what rewards you would receive?" He cut in, Robb thankful for that, his mood had begun to worsen and he didn't want Arya to see that. "Do you believe the King so incompetent as to not reward you properly for your actions throughout the war?"

"N-no!" The lord urgently argued, panicking slightly as he bowed deeply. "I meant no disrespect, my King. I simply sought to know what rewards you were considering and wondered if I might be able to offer my assistance."

"Forgive me," Robb spoke, his words confusing many, though his tone made many pay attention. "Your name escapes me, who are you?" The flinch the lord gave showed his words stung.

"I am Lord Jon Lychester, son of Lymund Lychester, your grace."

"Lord Lychester?" Robb murmured, turning to Jason Mallister at his side. "Tell, Lord Mallister, where House Lychester there at the Battle of Riverrun?"

Jason shook his head. "No, they weren't, your grace."

Robb hummed, Jon, shifting uncomfortably. "And what of their presence during the Siege of Riverrun?" Jason shook his head. "The Battle of the Wolfswood?" Again, Jason shook his head and Jon became more and more panicked. "And what of their presence at the Battle of the Camps?"

"They were not present in any of those engagements," Jason said.

"Then tell me, Lord Lychester, where were you in those battles?" Robb asked.

"We were...I was unavailable, your grace."

Smalljon scoffed. "Unavailable? More like too busy taking Lannister gold." None had forgotten that House Lychester had resisted Robb's ascension to King of the Trident, only brought to heel by Lord Mallister.

Robb ignored Smalljon though. "You were unavailable?" Robb questioned. "Then you just as you were unavailable to me then, you shall find me unavailable to you now." Jon became flushed, suitably shot down and humiliated by this, quickly turning back and returning to his seat.

But Robb's troubles were not over as another Lord stepped up, seemingly confident in his ability to elect a different response. "Lord Vance," Jason warned, looking to the third son of the late lord Vance, Norbert the Blind.

"Yes, Lord Vance?" Robb's tone showed his frustration with this whole thing. "Do you perhaps have something else to offer? Perhaps because your brother, Ronald fought alongside me at both the Battle of the Wolfswood and at the Battle of the Camps? Or perhaps because you and your brother, Hugo fought with me during the Westerland Campaign and even at the Battle of the Bloody Antlers and the Bloody Fields?"

Lord Vance opened his mouth to speak, seemingly being confident. But the more Robb spoke, his confidence deflated, now uncertain on whether he should continue to speak.

"Tell me, Lord Vance, why is it that you and many others keep coming to speak to me of the rewards you think you should receive when the war is not over? Is it because the south is secure, that your holdings are now no longer under threat?" Robb pressed. "Do you think that your holdings are more important than my own? Is that it?"

"N-no, your grace!" Lord Vance panicked, recognising his mistake instantly. "I would never think such a thing, I just..."

"You just, what?" Robb did not let up, but Lord Vance had no response, simply bowing his head, avoiding looking Robb in the eye. "Sandor, Olyvar." The two men stepped forwards. "Any man, whether they be a knight or a lord, comes to me with an attempt to discuss what reward they feel they deserve again, remove their hands. That and the lesson it imparts should be suitable reward enough for all they have done for me."

"Yes, your grace," Olyvar said loudly, Sandor simply grunting.

"Now, Lord Vance," Robb said, waving his hand in dismissal. "I wish to eat my meal in peace without being disturbed by such infantile things. So unless you have nothing left to offer me; leave."

Lord Vance though stunned, recovered, bowing deeply in apology and leaving. The many lords who had followed him and Lord Lychester, also left, each having come to try their own attempts but knowing now what fate awaited them. Those that had not, simply listening, quickly turned away, trying to pretend that they had not been listening in intensely.