The Bite of Winter

Robb

Two months after Tyrion's Trial

Robb led his mare through the marshes of the Neck. She was covered from head to hoof in the muck. He and Greywind were in similar shape. When they first hit the Neck, his horse had gotten stuck in the mud and thrown him, drenching him completely. The horse managed to get free without injury, thank the gods. Since his fall, he had opted to lead the mare until they reached solid ground. 

At least the mud kept the flies away. Some of them were as big as small birds and without the layer of protective mud, he could have been covered in welts from their bites. 

Greywind paddled behind them, his head held low and tail tucked between his legs. His yellow eyes peaked out from behind the mud, but otherwise, he was completely brown.

Robb had no clue where they were. Part of him prayed that they were near Moat Cailin, but he knew that they hadn't been traveling long enough. 

Part of him wanted to seek out Greywater Watch and find his Bannerman Howland Reed, but he knew that the attempt would be folly. He had no map, no road and the castle moved. His only hope was to continue north until he found a familiar place. 

The sun was beginning to set. Trying to wade through the swamp in the dark was suicide. Robb tied the mare to a tree on the dryest piece of earth he could find. It was a patch of moss and still rather damp, but not submerged so it would do for the night. 

Greywind curled up and Robb rested his head on his back. He could hear the thud of Greywinds heart. The soft thumping lulled him to sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robb's head was sent flying forward as Greywind leaped to his feet, snarling. Robb grasped his dagger with white-knuckled. 

Five small men stood in front of him with spears. A sixth man stood in the back, the other men circling him in a protective stance. 

"Drop the knife and call off your wolf." One of the crannogmen called. 

Robb knew that he couldn't fight all of them. He dropped his dagger and help his hands up. "Greywind, to me." Greywind returned to his master's side, still snarling at the strangers. 

"Where did you get that dire wolf?" The man without a spear asked, clearly the leader of the group. 

"I found him." It wasn't a total lie. 

"Take him to Greywater Watch, Lord Reed may want to speak with this one." The leader ordered his men. 

Robb's heart raced. Lord Reed was his bannerman, surely he would be safe at Greywater Watch? He followed the craggonmen, one of them taking his horse. Greywind stayed by Robb's side.

Robb could hardly see the ground under his feet as they walked but the craggonmen seemed to know exactly where they were going. They weaved the trees and avoided the deep mud, making traveling through the bogs seem easy.

He could see lights in the distance. As they approached, the lights became windows in a castle. They had arrived at Greywater Watch. The castle was on platforms, free-floating in the bog. It rose above the trees made of wood and clay. 

Two of the craggonmen escorted Robb inside. The inside was warm and candles lit the halls. "Follow us." The taller of the two ordered.

They led Robb and Greywind through the maze of halls and deposited him in a bathhouse so he could remove the layer of mud from his skin before meeting with Howland Reed. He stripped off the mud-crusted clothes. He was not surprised to see that the mud had permeated his clothes and clung to the parts of him that never saw the light of day.

'Im never going to get all the mud off.' He thought as he entered the pool, Greywind jumping into it as well. Greywind never liked water, but he clearly hated the mud more. He swam to the other side and jumped out, the worst of the mud out of his fur now. 

Robb scrubbed himself until his skin turned bright red. The scar where the arrow had hit him had healed fully and was now a harsh red line on his pale skin. 

He found clothes waiting for him when he finally got out. He pulled them on. He didn't realize how much he missed the feeling of soft cotton on dry skin. It was a luxury that he had taken for granted his whole life. 

He opened the door and popped his head out, looking down the hall where the craggonmen waited for him. The man led him to a solar where who Robb presumed to be, Howland Reed waited.

"My lord." Robb greeted.

"Your Grace, I must apologize for your treatment before your arrival. The Lannisters and Greyjoys have been attacking from all sides. One cannot be too careful." A kind smile fell on Howland's lips as he stepped closer. He had a kind face, but sad eyes. Robb remembered that his children were fostered at Winterfell. They were either killed by the Bolton's or taken as hostages. 

"There are no hard feelings. I understand the precaution."

"Please, sit." Howland took a seat behind his desk and Robb took a chair in front of it.

"Lord Reed, what is that status of the North?"

Darkness consumed Howland's green eyes. "It is chaos. The Boltons are scrambling to take power, the Greyjoys have been pillaging the coast and even took Deepwood Motte. Stannis Baratheon is currently at the wall and has made some sort of alliance with your brother, Lord Commander Snow."

'Lord Commander?' Robb thought as pride in his brother welled in his stomach. He had always hoped that Jon would rise above his birth, and it looks as if he had.

"The Stark loyalists are either dead or surrendered believing that all of the living Starks were gone. Until my men found you in the swamp, I believed that you were dead. Please forgive me, your grace. If i had known about your survival, my men and I would have ridden to your aid."

"I am grateful for all you have done for myself and my house, Lord Reed," Robb reassured him. His father always spoke fondly of Lord Reed, he could see why. 

Lord Reed gave him a soft smile. "Do you have any plans for your future?" He asked.

"I want the Lannister's dead. After that not really. I suppose to kill the Lannisters, I will have to retake the North. I was planning on going to the wall and see if Jon could help me."

Howland's eye's seemed troubled. "The only army in the North belongs to the Boltons or Stannis Baratheon. Nobody else is left to side with you, or at least not enough people to make a difference on the field."

"Perhaps Stannis would be willing to help me if I backed him?"

"Perhaps..." Howland repeated slowly. "But I would doubt that the other kingdoms would accept his rule while Robert's children are breathing, even with the rumors of them being bastards born of incest." 

"It seems to me that Stannis is my only option. As you said, the North won't rally behind me."

"They may not rally behind you, but I know of a man who could unite all of Westeros against the Lannisters." Howland's voice was hoarse.

"Who?" Robb's brow scrunched. All the Targaryen's were dead and the Baratheon line of succession was in shambles. 

Howland ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Are you prepared to hear the best-kept secret in Westeros?"