Chapter 3

When he called all the banners, Robb knew what was coming. With his father's arrest, the accusation of treason, and his summons to King's Landing by the supposed boy king, he knew it was inevitable and that it deserved a strong response.

Days later, with the army already gathered, Robb, acting as Lord Stark, commanded the host of Northmen toward Moat Cailin, where he hoped to meet up with the men of the Neck, further consolidating his army.

Robb felt anxious, not because of the idea of adding more numbers to his army. His brother, Jon Snow, was at Moat Cailin, under the protection of Lord Reed, who had brought him along.

It had been five long years. Five years since his bastard brother had left Winterfell for the Neck.

The rumors reached him a year later. Communication with his brother through ravens was scarce, but the news eventually reached his ears.

Robb knew his brother was different, ever since that day when Jon fought against those wildlings before his eyes—a 10-year-old boy who took them down and beat them to death. That image still couldn't be erased from his mind. For a time, he had nightmares, haunted by Jon's deranged look back then…

But the ravens bearing news of his brother's deeds only reinforced what he believed. Jon Snow's adventures spread throughout the North. The Kraken Killer, the Terror of the Wildlings. Despite being under Lord Reed's tutelage, Jon didn't stay stagnant in Greywater Watch. He first traveled to Bear Island, where he was received by the Mormonts. His arrival coincided with one of the frequent attacks by the ironborn. They say it was a massacre; once on land, Jon, along with a few men-at-arms, defended the island while reinforcements arrived, though they weren't needed. They say Jon attacked like a wild wolf, showing no mercy. A dozen raiders met his fury—the fury of an 11-year-old boy. And although it sounds absurd, it was entirely one-sided.

Drenched in blood, Jon presented the heads of the raiders to Lady Mormont.

"The wolves protect their own."

No one believed it was possible, but Lady Mormont testified, lending more credibility to the entire affair. Of course, his father was proud and worried; Robb couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. His younger siblings were amazed, Arya being particularly expressive about it. His mother… well, she never liked Jon.

As time passed, more news came, each more astonishing than the last. Jon defending the Last Hearth alongside the Umbers. Jon fighting against bandits, against wildlings.

By the age of fifteen, his brother had more deeds to his name than many men.

Robb wanted to feel envious, but he couldn't. He was happy for his brother, who was forging his own path.

Moat Cailin was a ruin, yet it remained imposing. Robb's eyes inspected the structure, observing the towers that still stood.

"The Andals broke themselves here trying to invade the North," exclaimed Greatjon Umber suddenly. "But this damned place has seen better days."

"Still, it's our best defense against an attack from the south. I'll make sure it's well-manned before we leave," Robb said, urging his horse to quicken its pace. In the distance, he could already see the welcoming committee waiting at the main entrance.

"Seems the frogs are welcoming us," he heard Theon mockingly say at his side.

Not just the frogs—after all, a wolf was among them.

—

"You've grown, Stark."

It's the first thing Jon says when he sees him.

"And you, Snow." Robb could barely contain his smile.

Jon Snow was no longer the scrawny boy who had left Winterfell five years ago. He now seemed like a man in every sense, tall and sturdy, a Stark through and through. His hair, as dark as raven's wings, reached halfway down his neck. Though his features were finer, they still screamed Stark.

"The boy looks more like a Stark than his trueborn brothers."

He remembered the whispers of some servants, even a few of his father's bannermen when they thought he couldn't hear them.

And they were right. Robb favored his mother's family in appearance. However, he was still a Stark, like his father. The blood of the Kings of Winter ran through his veins. He would prove his worth, he swore to himself back then.

"Lord Reed, it's an honor to finally meet you," Robb greeted the lord of Greywater Watch.

The man smiled.

"The honor is mine, Lord Stark, though we've met before, many years ago. But back then, you were still young," replied Lord Reed, his voice soft and calm.

Robb nodded.

"My lords, I believe there will be time for this later. For now, it's been a long journey. Let's rest and regain our strength; there's much to do and little time."

—

"Father used to tell us that patience is the virtue of a good lord," Robb said when he and his brother finally found themselves alone in the solar he had chosen for himself. "But right now, all I want to do is march and chop off the head of every Lannister."

Jon said nothing for a while, his violet, almost black eyes staring at him for a moment before looking out the solar window.

"The South will be full of enemies," Jon finally said, with cold calmness. "To reach your father, we'll have to face Tywin's army, a ruthless man. We'll have to drive the invaders out of the Riverlands, which, as we speak, are burning."

Robb looked at him, nodded, and spoke.

"War is inevitable," he sighed. "The North won't be the only kingdom to rise. The Stormlands, the Vale, the Riverlands…"

He remembered those happier days when his father and sisters were still in Winterfell.

"Father always used to say that winter was coming, and he was right. We'll bring winter to the Lannisters. I want to know, brother, do I have your support?"

Jon looked at him in silence before nodding.

"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," Jon said solemnly. "You have my sword, brother."

Robb smiled.

"Now, little brother, how much truth is there to those rumors?"