Chapter 6
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Jon noticed the suspicion with which the members of his brother Robb's army looked at him. The men of House Tully averted their gaze, their mouths twisted in disapproval, avoiding his company as if he were a plague. The northerners, on the other hand, seemed to search for any excuse to challenge him, eager to test their strength against the "Mountain Slayer."
Jon ignored it all. He had learned long ago to stop caring about what others thought of him. His duty was to his brother, and that was enough.
When he entered the tent, Robb was already waiting for him. During his stay at Riverrun, Robb had decided not to settle in the castle. Instead, he and his army remained in the nearby camp, preferring to lead military operations from there. Robb wanted to maintain a close bond with his troops, demonstrating that he was as much in the war as they were. Riverrun was still the domain of House Tully, and Robb respected that hierarchy.
"I am here as you requested, Your Grace." Jon spoke in a formal tone, noting how Robb barely lifted his eyes from the maps spread across the table.
He knew Robb hated those formalities, but Jon had clung to them as a way to keep some distance. However, Robb couldn't help but sigh at his brother's impassivity.
"You know that when we're alone, you don't have to call me with that 'Your Grace' nonsense," Robb said, his tone tired. However, seeing that Jon's expression didn't change, Robb decided to continue. "But that doesn't matter. Tell me, Jon, what is a fundamental part of war? Besides swords and a large host, what can be a key factor in winning?"
Jon knew the answer but remained silent, allowing his brother, now king, to answer it himself.
Robb got up from his seat and paced around the tent, gesturing for Jon to sit. When Jon sat down, Robb continued speaking.
"I am short of beneficial alliances for my cause. I have the Riverlands by blood, the Freys by marriage. But what else do I have? In the Stormlands, Renly Baratheon has gathered a large army by marrying the Tyrells. Stannis Baratheon, from what I've heard, has taken Storm's End with his fleet, but he has far fewer men than his younger brother."
Robb paused, watching Jon with an impenetrable look.
"While we have a fierce army, we cannot win this war without alliances. We need more men; we need ships. I discussed this with my war council recently, and they agree with me that we need to secure strategic alliances. That is why I've decided to send my mother to the Stormlands to meet with Renly Baratheon to seek an agreement."
Jon considered the option. It seemed the most logical, though he knew Renly Baratheon had a weaker claim than Stannis. However, Renly had the support of one of the wealthiest and most powerful houses in Westeros.
"With Joffrey Waters' bastardy, Stannis is next in the line of succession," Jon commented, his voice laden with seriousness. "We'd be supporting a blatant usurpation."
Robb nodded, his expression revealing nothing.
"You're right. But as I see it, Renly Baratheon is our best chance."
Jon frowned but nodded. He knew Robb's logic was sound, even if he didn't like it.
"Now, while I trust I can reach an agreement with Renly and the Tyrells, I don't fully trust them. That's why I've decided to send Theon to the Iron Islands as an envoy, carrying a list of terms to finalize an alliance."
Incredulity crossed Jon's face, and he stared at Robb as if his brother had lost his mind.
"Are you serious?" Jon asked, his voice filled with disbelief and a touch of frustration. "Theon has proven to be loyal. Sending him would be a gesture of good faith toward Balon Greyjoy."
Jon looked at him, unable to hide his disapproval.
"Have you forgotten who Theon Greyjoy truly is? He's a damned hostage! He's the only thing keeping the Ironborn in check. By sending him, you're inviting them to attack."
Robb, unfazed, replied, "It won't happen. Theon is loyal to me, and if Balon Greyjoy is smart, he'll accept."
Jon ran a hand over his face, trying to calm his growing frustration.
"Your friendship with Theon blinds you, brother."
"And your disdain for him blinds you," Robb replied, his voice hardening.
"He's a Greyjoy, an Ironborn, arrogant and parasitic. Do you need me to remind you what they do? They raid, rape, and burn everything in their path! What do you think Theon will choose—his family or you?"
The tension in the tent was palpable. Jon could feel his words clashing against his brother's stubbornness. But he knew that pressing further wouldn't change anything.
"I've already made my decision," Robb stated coldly. Jon looked at him with equal coldness.
"You're the king," Jon growled. "If you'd already decided, then why am I here?"
Robb's expression softened slightly. "My mother is going to the Stormlands. She needs an escort. You will accompany her; I trust no one else for the task."
Jon was about to refuse. His place was on the battlefield, not as an escort. But in the end, he nodded.
"If that's what my king commands, I will do it," he said, rising from his seat. Robb smiled, grateful.
"You will leave in two days," Robb announced with a nod.
Jon paused before heading to the tent's exit. "If that's all, Your Grace, I'll go prepare for the journey."
He didn't wait for a response and made his way to the entrance. Before leaving, Robb called him once more.
"Jon… I know you don't trust Theon, but he's proven his worth. He won't fail me; I'm sure of it."
Jon, with his hand on the tent's entrance, murmured just loud enough for Robb to hear.
"I hope, for everyone's sake, that's true, Your Grace." And with that, he left.
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Meera looked at her father, somewhat uneasy. It wasn't common for her father to summon her to his solar, and the fact that her brother Jojen was there only heightened her anxiety. As usual, Jojen kept an impenetrable expression, but Meera felt something important was about to happen.
"I bet you're wondering why I've called you both," her father began, his tone solemn. "In the past few days, I've been thinking a lot. With the war unfolding and the likelihood of an invasion in the North, I've decided to send you to Winterfell. There, you'll both be safe. However, my reasons aren't limited to that."
"It's because of young Brandon Stark, isn't it, father? He's a powerful warg. I've seen him in my dreams; the crows watch him more closely than anyone else." Jojen spoke with a calmness that unnerved Meera, and though she didn't fully understand, her father seemed to comprehend perfectly, nodding gravely.
"Yes, you'll teach him what you can during your stay there. He will need your help. I must stay to protect the Neck; I cannot leave. Young Brandon is very powerful, and we must teach him to control his gifts to avoid harming himself. That said, prepare your things; you will leave in a couple of days."
Meera nodded, though her mind was still processing the information. As she was about to leave, her father's voice stopped her.
"Meera, stay a moment."
"Yes, father?" she asked, confused. Her father sighed, an unusual gesture for him.
"You are my greatest pride, daughter," he said, and Meera was stunned. "You are a warrior, strong and capable."
"Father…" she murmured, touched and somewhat bewildered.
"I need you to promise me that you'll take care of your brother. He's always been somewhat fragile, strong in some ways, but lacking in others."
"I… I promise, father. I'll take care of Jojen the best I can."
"Good, I'm counting on you in this, daughter," he said. "There's another matter I wanted to discuss with you, about a possible betrothal for you."
Meera paled. She hadn't expected this. Of course, she knew that one day she would have to marry someone her father chose for her, but still…
She couldn't help but think of Jon, that bastard boy with dark eyes; whenever she thought of him, she couldn't help but blush like a foolish maiden.
Her father looked at her sympathetically.
"Don't worry. As I said, it's a possibility. The agreement hasn't been finalized; I wanted to know your opinion. I discussed the terms of the contract with Lord Stark before his departure to the south and his subsequent death."
Meera swallowed hard, Lord Stark? Why… her breath caught when she realized, her father was arranging a marriage with House Stark. She thought perhaps it was Robb, but dismissed the idea immediately; he was already promised. But if it was before Lord Stark's death…
"...Who?" Meera asked her father.
"Initially, I considered a betrothal to Brandon Stark, but plans changed. Tell me, what do you think of Jon Snow?"
The world seemed to stop for Meera at that moment.
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In the next chapter we will have Jon in the Stormlands.
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