Chapter 1: Robb

It had been two hours since his death. Two hours since his return to life. Two hours since he read the letter and sent Maester Luwin and everyone in the audience hall where the former Robb attended to the peasants surrounding Winterfell away.

He had transmigrated to A Song of Ice and Fire and now he was Robb Stark, who would die prematurely a year later. The moment was just when he received the letter from his sister, Sansa Stark, informing him of their father Eddard Stark's arrest. Now he was... He was Robb Stark and he also had all his memories...

No, his memories were there from the beginning and he didn't have to assimilate anything. Even his feelings. But he had mixed everything in a disproportion of a thousand to one. Robb Stark was like a small village under construction while the transmigrated soul was a whole planet in the 21st century. Robb Stark's consciousness had taken a backseat, every aspect of it surpassed in thoughts, emotions, and feelings.

The transmigrated one had lived fifty years of life in a world where a five-year-old already surpassed Robb in knowledge. It was no surprise that he barely felt like himself in a place far away from his mind. Still, his emotions upon receiving that letter, along with the knowledge of what would happen in the future, filled him with sadness and helplessness at learning his own destiny and that of his family.

The soul that merged with him did not know these feelings. He was an orphan who lived his childhood in misery. He did not know the love of a family and no one was important to him. He died alone, classifying people into two groups: those who could be useful to him and those who could not. But for Robb, this was unthinkable. His family would always come first. Even now that he knew his own future and knew of the grotesque end that could await him, and when he felt fear, terror, revulsion, and disgust for his atrocious end, he would not hesitate for a second to plunge into battle to defend his family. Regardless of whether history repeated itself or if his death was even worse.

This did not mean that he was the same person, because his way of thinking about everything else had made a 160-degree turn and he had very different opinions about everything. So much so that, if it weren't for his strong feelings towards his family, he would say he was a completely different person.

...

Robb sighed after controlling his thoughts, adjusting his emotions, and reviewing in his mind what he could use to survive. Beside him lay Grey Wind, who gave him a questioning look when he looked at him. Robb reached out and stroked his head, wondering if his knowledge of the future would ensure his survival. Despite it, this story had already advanced to the point where he was fully involved in the war and he no longer had time to take advantage of his technological knowledge, which, as a mechanical engineer, was vast and could work wonders in a medieval world.

Now all that, at most, would give him a few strategic advantages on the battlefield, and not an overwhelming advantage as it would have been to arrive at least one or two years earlier.

"Send maester Luwin in!" Robb ordered, and a few seconds later, the emaciated maester, who was already somewhat bald, entered the huge audience hall. Behind him hurried Hodor, carrying Bran in a basket. He seemed to have invited himself, but that was fine, he would stay in Winterfell, and Robb had a month to teach him too many things. The three people approached the throne.

"What does the letter say?" Bran asked apprehensively. Robb put away the letter he still held in his hands, which was actually a small folded parchment that a raven had brought.

"The king has been murdered by Queen Cersei, and she has accused father of treason to prevent him from being named regent. Now father is her prisoner, and demands that we kneel and recognize her as queen regent and her bastard son, the fruit of incest, Joffrey Waters, as the new king," Robb explained without skipping a beat. Maester Luwin looked at him with surprise and Bran was stunned.

"My lord…" Robb raised his hand.

"Maester Luwin, it's not the time to clarify doubts. I've pondered over this matter for two hours, it's time to take action, we'll discuss the details later. Now, send ravens to the banners to gather their forces and present themselves at Winterfell to go rescue Father," Robb ordered.

Maester Luwin looked at him with some confusion, but Robb paid no attention and continued staring at him, waiting for him to comply with his orders. Maester Luwin forgot any complaints and hurried to fulfill the commands.

"Will Father be okay?" Bran asked. "Father is doomed because Littlefinger won't let him leave alive, no matter what," Robb thought.

"Bran, Father is in great danger, and it's up to us to save him, but he's not the only one because Sansa, Arya, and all of us could die," Robb said, and Bran paled and almost burst into tears. Hodor cried out in alarm at his reaction. "And only you can help us survive," Robb concluded, cutting off Bran's tears before they even started. Bran looked at him, dazed, trying to process his last words.

"Me?" he asked with a high-pitched voice, after almost a minute of confusion, and from his tone, he still didn't understand anything.

This Bran wasn't the one from the TV series; this Bran was just an eight-year-old boy, almost a baby. Moreover, he was a spoiled child, used to being treated well because the bastard was extremely cute. Even now, after spending a month in a coma due to his assassination attempt and having become skin and bones, he was still cute, with his pale skin, reddish hair, delicate features, and blue eyes.

He was the best Leidy Stark and her husband could produce in terms of sons; their female version would be Sansa Stark, but even so, she was a step below this brat.

Tenderness invaded Robb, and he felt the urge to hug and comfort him, but he restrained himself because he was an older man. If he had been the original Robb, he would have told a blatant lie, like everything would be fine, just to avoid seeing him sad. Robb nodded gravely.

"Yes, all our lives depend on you and the magic you've inherited," Robb said solemnly. Bran frowned and pouted.

"Robb, I'm not a child," Bran said. Robb sighed.

"No, you're a child, and that's why you haven't realized the magic you possess, which all of us do, and now it's our only advantage over our enemies, adversaries, rivals, and traitors who are waiting for a moment of weakness to stab us in the back," Robb said seriously, raising his hand for Bran to be silent as he reclined on the throne and made himself comfortable.

"Bran, you're still a child, and reason dictates that no responsibility can be entrusted to you. However, these are desperate times, and even children will have to fight to preserve their lives at the cost of their innocence. That's why I'll tell you the story of our family, part of it, legends that are considered myths today, and only some people in this world can tell you if they're true or tales. But I'll also tell you about magic, which is real and exists within each of us, but it's stronger in you and can give us an overwhelming advantage over our enemies.

"Let's start with the Dawn Age, the time of legends that speaks of the arrival of the First Men, our ancestors, to Westeros," Robb said and spent an hour telling Bran about the First Men, their encounter with the Children of the Forest, the arrival of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and above all, the Long Night, describing the magic they could use and its manifestations and how it could be employed.

…

"Am I a skinchanger?" Bran asked excitedly, as he already had wolf dreams with Summer, and upon hearing about skinchangers, he had no trouble relating it to himself. Robb shook his head.

"No, I am a skinchanger, Jon is a skinchanger, Arya, Sansa, and even Rickon, but you are different, you are a greenseer," said Robb.

Bran widened his eyes because Robb had just told him that greenseers were the magicians of the Children of the Forest and could do things as crazy as sinking part of a continent if many of them gathered together. Even on their own, they were something extraordinary because they could predict the future, warg into many animals, control them, see through their eyes… In short, be the best spies in the world, and in this world where magic was scarce, without any consequences.

"But I can't see the future," Bran said with a furrowed brow. As a child, he didn't doubt Robb's words and, thanks to his dreams, took everything for granted as true.

"No?" Robb asked, looking directly into Bran's eyes. "Didn't you dream something before waking up from your dream?" he added. Bran shuddered.

"No!" he said as if he wanted to drown a memory. Robb nodded as if he understood him.

"The future is something terrible, and you don't need to remember it. It's enough that you learn to use the animals, especially the ravens, to become the eyes of our army as they march south and the guardian of the north while I'm away. That's why you must be strong and train your magic to help all of us. If you fail, none of us will have a future," Robb said, and Bran, almost crushed by the pressure, almost burst into tears, but he clenched his teeth and nodded while Hodor offered his support saying, "Hodor," to console him.

"Alright, now go eat something. You're skin and bones, and you'll need strength because we'll start your training to control ravens tonight. I still have to attend to some people, and I won't be able to accompany you," Robb said, bidding him farewell. "And Bran, don't forget that your magic is our only salvation. If anyone finds out about it, we'll all be dead," he added before the boy left. Bran began to shed tears, already overwhelmed by the responsibility placed upon him.

The original Robb would be devastated by what he had done, but the current Robb only felt a little sadness and melancholy for bringing a child into a war where he would witness horrors that would ruin his innocence and perhaps his future life if he couldn't overcome them. Robb Stark would never risk his brother's well-being, so he wouldn't even mention the matter to him.

As Bran left, Theon Greyjoy forced his way through the guards guarding the hall's door, and Robb signaled for them not to stop him. Theon, now a seventeen-year-old man compared to Robb's fourteen, with brown hair, brown eyes, sun-bronzed skin, slender build, and rustic but well-cut and thick clothes to protect him from the cold, wore high leather boots and a confident expression that waned a bit when he saw the cold stare Robb fixed on him. A stare that wasn't feigned because Robb was wondering what to do with this guy.

Theon Greyjoy was a useless piece of trash wherever he went. He had no use for him because his father, Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, and who was supposed to keep calm with his heir held hostage in Winterfell, didn't care about this guy's life at all, and as soon as the Northern army turned their backs, he would attack without hesitation, making Robb have to chop off this idiot's head.

Of course, Robb wouldn't do Balon Greyjoy's dirty work, and he was already impatient to get rid of this guy, while far away, the emotions of the original Robb were on the verge of collapse, or they would be if this collapse weren't just part of the current Robb Stark's imagination, to whom Theon Greyjoy's fate was inconsequential.

Theon Greyjoy meant nothing to his father. For a capable man, this wouldn't matter, and even without the support of his family, he could rise on his own. But capable men were scarce. Robb wasn't one of them, and neither was Theon, because he was a womanizer, spineless, living off his name, and also ignorant. In this world of madmen, traitors, and conspirators, he was the graphic description of cannon fodder.

"Robb, what has happened?" Theon asked with a serious tone as he approached the throne and saw Robb's expression.

"The queen has killed the king, and Father, who was appointed regent in his place, as befitting his position as Hand, has been taken prisoner by her. Now she demands that we kneel before her bastard son, the product of incest, Joffrey Waters," explained Robb. Theon looked shocked and didn't seem to know how to respond or ask anything.

"I have ordered Maester Luwin to call the banners. We will march to King's Landing to free Father," explained Robb. "Now, please, go back to your daily tasks. I need to prepare a few more things with Winterfell's servants, getting supplies and putting things in order for Bran," said Robb, gesturing for him to leave. Theon looked twice as confused as before because Robb always asked for his advice and had him by his side for everything. His behavior at this moment left him surprised.

"Guards, summon the steward, the master-at-arms, the captain of the guard, and the kitchen steward," Robb ordered. When the guards entered, he looked at the bewildered Theon to have him removed from there too.

…

Two hours later, four hours after arriving there, Robb had ordered the banners to be called, following his actions in "A Song of Ice and Fire." What he didn't follow from the original story was revealing the true reasons for his father's imprisonment, preparing for the future. He had also ordered a census of all the children of Winterfell and found three of them were missing their tongues. He assigned them tasks outside the central areas of the castle and placed them under strict surveillance with orders to report their movements.

He also checked the available supplies, such as weapons, food, drink, and clothing. The former Robb knew how much of each thing an army would need according to its number, and the new Robb collaborated with security and hygiene measures to adapt them to his plans. Although he wasn't pleased, the supplies or war materials were lousy. His troops would be peasants armed with wooden spears and shields, and if lucky, leather armor. No warriors clad in steel; he wouldn't have more than two hundred of those, and that was already a huge number because his father was the Lord of the North. For the other lords, half of those numbers could be expected, and peasants armed with whatever they could find on their own farms, including sickles and picks.

Robb concluded that the battles of the Seven Kingdoms were fights of the disabled, and he understood how a few knights were able to make their way through an army of peasants. They would be like wolves in a henhouse, true armored tanks, fighting against poorly armed infantry.

Robb was also helpless with this disappointment because the Starks were poor and had no money to buy anything. He could get millions in gold if they gave him at least six months, but he didn't even have a month to do anything, and he could only hope to hold on long enough to obtain the funding and resources he needed, including armor, swords, horses, spears, shields, and food.

"My lord, it is already mid-afternoon. You should have something to eat before continuing our meeting," said Maester Luwin, who apparently had finished sending the letters and had been brought there according to his orders. The other servants, with whom he was taking inventory of the things available to try to save his skin and not die in a few months, nodded in support of Maester Luwin.

Robb looked at them all with pity. These poor wretches had no idea of the grave troubles they were in, and in the original story, all of them died, even before Robb. Robb decided to ignore their foolishness and turned to Maester Luwin.

"Maester Luwin, did you have your lunch before coming here?" Robb asked, as he had already ordered the guards to ensure the elderly man had his meal.

Robb was only fourteen years old, able to do as he pleased without suffering consequences, but Maester Luwin was already an elderly person, and skipping a meal could be a serious matter for him. Maester Luwin nodded.

"Very well, the rest of you can leave. I have matters to discuss with Maester Luwin. A day without eating won't kill me, and as a wise man once said, I'll rest when I'm dead," Robb declared, shooing them away with a wave of his hand.

He was only focused on the fact that if he didn't do anything now, his head would roll, and thinking about that, he felt no tiredness. His survival instincts drove his will, firmly determined not to die a second time, let alone be decapitated or stabbed.

"Maester Luwin, as you know, once I depart, Winterfell will be under Bran's control," Robb said when the others had left and the guards closed the doors. Maester Luwin nodded with sorrow, seemingly still wanting Robb to go and have his lunch.

"Maester, Bran is only eight years old, and most of the castle's affairs will depend on you and your advice to him. Therefore, I will explain to Bran that in all administrative matters, his decision will prevail over yours, unless they are military matters, in which case I'll leave someone else in charge," explained Robb.

"My lord, it will be an honor to hold Winterfell in your absence, as you return to your father," Maester Luwin said, offering him encouragement.

"Maester Luwin, my father is already dead, just as my grandfather was when he fell into the hands of King Aerys. And it's possible that I may never return. However, I will do everything possible so that if this scenario comes true, our enemies suffer such loss that they have no choice but to make peace, and Bran can survive. Therefore, there are certain things I must discuss with you, and you must keep them absolutely secret.

"The first is that the Ironborn will attack as soon as the North is left without an army. But if I inform my lords of this, they will no longer want to come with me to the South, and we'll lose this war before it even starts," said Robb, leaving Maester Luwin stupefied.

"My Lord Robb, your father has as his ward…"

"Hostage, Theon Greyjoy, Balon Greyjoy's son," Robb interrupted. "A son who means nothing to Balon Greyjoy and is despised for having been raised as they call it, a greenlander. Maester Luwin, the Ironborn are pirates, rapists, and murderers. They have no honor and do not respect anyone who isn't a killer like them. Theon is just a spineless womanizer, worth nothing to Balon or the men of the Iron Islands, so they will attack as soon as I head south.

"I won't discuss this further with you. What you must do is listen to my instructions for when this happens," Robb declared. "First of all, the Ironborn are pirates, and they are all just thieves."

"They will attack the coast, but they won't be able to take the cities or fortresses, so we can repel them safely, using a small concentrated force, without fearing any damage.

"From this perspective, and considering this weak point, Balon Greyjoy's priority will be to ensure that the army cannot turn around and return, so undoubtedly, he will want to take Moat Cailin. I will reserve a little surprise for that.

"What I wanted to discuss with you is the state in which Winterfell should be kept at that moment and how to act when we receive news about the Ironborn's attack because I will be away, and it might not be possible to communicate with me. Therefore, you will pretend to receive the orders I will leave at this moment by raven letter and execute them by giving them to the head of the guard. These orders are as follows…"

…

In the following days, Robb finished taking inventory and checked the sorry state of his training with sword, lance, and bow. In short, it was awful, and any well-trained knight would wipe the floor with him. It wasn't scandalous, as Robb was only fourteen years old, and those knights would surpass him by far in training and experience, but it was awful. The worst part was that there was no time for improvements; he could only rely on his direwolf, Grey Wind, making sure to feed him well and give him the best cuts of meat to help him grow as fast as possible. Robb didn't abandon his training, but in a fight, he wouldn't bet his life on his own skills.

On the other hand, despite his disadvantages as a warrior, in the future, his end would come through betrayal, which was the result of terrible decisions made by himself. Therefore, Robb's main goal in this war was to watch his back and ensure that potential traitors were under his watchful eyes at all times. He would also take advantage of any excuse to get rid of them.

Robb wouldn't dismiss his technological advantages either, even if he couldn't use them in this war that was already upon him. He had to win or die with what he had now, but that didn't mean he should wait for the war to end to start using his knowledge from another world. That's why he had sent for the Manderlys, whom he could use as his contacts with his future economic allies. He had also made a bunch of scribbles that Maester Luwin turned into a neat book.

The soul that merged with him was a mechanical engineer, but he had a computer that drew for him. Paper and pencil were only good for making annotations on the sides of printed sheets, so he was a terrible draftsman, and his handwriting was horrible. Now his book was ready, awaiting the arrival of the Manderlys.

If he survived this war, he would already have a solid foundation to deal with the consequences.

As for the betrayals, Robb was already preparing for them. One of them, caused by the deaths of Rickard Karstark's sons, could be easily avoided by not changing his plan to meet Jaime Lannister, as that plan was good and he wouldn't alter it unless the situation turned unfavorable. His plan was simply to prevent the Kingslayer from causing any disaster by taking care of him before he could do so.

For that, he had ordered the preparation of a good crossbow, and he was also considering other sneaky support tactics that would be considered dishonorable in this world. But ever since he learned about his future and gained all the knowledge he had now, thinking about honor made him clench his teeth. It was that and his lack of intelligence that caused the death of his mother and his own. "It won't happen again!" Robb declared in his mind.

As for Bran's training, the boy was a prodigy when it came to being a greenseer. In just one week, he already controlled an entire flock of ravens, always under Robb's strict supervision and in the cover of darkness. Robb constantly warned him that if anyone found out about his advantage as a greenseer, they could say goodbye to their lives.

While training, Robb told Bran about the Three-Eyed Crow and left some messages for him when they would make contact, if they ever did. Robb assured Bran that he would take him with him at the right moment, but first, they had to resolve the war in the south and keep the North intact.

Two weeks after Robb was reborn, determined to survive in this world of betrayals and deaths, and beyond that, to bring glory to the North, and be ruthless and cunning with anyone who dared to play with his life and that of his family, the lords of the North began to arrive with their troops.

NA 1: Hello everyone, regarding this fic, I'll be posting one chapter per week. This fic, as its name indicates, is based on the books, not the series. However, for things that are still unconfirmed in the books, such as Jon Snow's origin, I will use the series canon, specifically concerning who his parents are, nothing more. As for the Others or White Walkers, there won't be a Night King because I don't like it.

NA 2: I'm looking for beta readers for this fic. Those interested, please send a message to my email rdsellinsert@gmail.com. I'll be posting one chapter per week. I'll also be uploading three other fics, from Stargate, Naruto, and UCM. If you're interested in being beta readers for those fics, let me know as well.

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