Chapter 153 – Give Me Some Time
"Podrick Payne—you will always be the most welcome guest of House Stark!"
Robb, his eyes hazy with drink, spoke with passionate fervor. He threw an arm around Podrick, declaring his goodwill loudly as he stood tall.
The already lively atmosphere was pushed to yet another peak.
At the feast, the Northern men—reeking of sweat, their beards stained with ale and scraps of food—immediately rose to their feet in response.
"Long live the North!"
"Long live the King in the North!"
Amid their uproar, the lords of the Riverlands were not to be outdone.
"Long live House Stark!"
"Hahaha!"
---
Caught in the jubilant mood, Podrick could only smile helplessly. He raised his cup toward the crowd in acknowledgment, then tipped his head back and drained it in one go.
After the toast, the singers struck up lively tunes once more, and the crowd returned to dancing and revelry.
Camp followers in light clothing swayed among the people, casting flirtatious glances. When someone took interest, they were quickly pulled into an embrace, hands wandering freely.
Younger men gathered together, boasting of their deeds, their faces reddening with drink until arguments broke out and fists soon followed.
The older ones sat in small groups, speaking in tones only men would understand—some animated, others more subdued.
---
Yet Robb seemed to have sobered somewhat. He pulled Podrick along, weaving through the crowd until they reached a quieter stretch by the lakeshore.
The night breeze carried away much of the lingering scent of wine.
Robb found a large stone and sat down, pulling Podrick with him.
The lake reflected the starlight above, while nearby campfires shimmered in the wind, breaking into fragments of gold that gathered and scattered across the surface.
"Podrick… may I call you that?"
At this moment, Robb Stark no longer carried the deliberate dignity of the King in the North. His smile was gentle, his cheeks flushed from drink, making him seem more like a friendly older brother than a king.
Podrick smiled and shrugged.
"Of course. I prefer it that way. If someone calls me by my full name, I start wondering if I've done something wrong."
"In my experience, that's how mothers call their children when they're in trouble—it's terrifying."
---
The light joke eased the atmosphere.
Robb froze for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh.
"Ah… damn it, now you've reminded me of some rather unpleasant memories. Ser Rodrik used to teach me and my brothers like that when we were young—and he wasn't exactly gentle about it either."
"Haha…"
He laughed, more sincerely this time.
But after a few moments, the laughter faded. His expression softened into something more somber as he gazed out at the rippling lake.
"Thank you, Podrick… you've reminded me of better days."
"At times like that, my father—Eddard Stark—would always step in for us, say a few words on our behalf to Ser Rodrik…"
"…I never thought…"
---
"Sorry for your loss."
There wasn't much Podrick could say.
A simple phrase—but it was enough.
Robb fell silent, the weight of memory settling over him.
Podrick didn't speak. He simply stayed there, keeping Robb company.
Men learned early how to rein in their emotions, and Robb was no exception. Before long, he gathered himself, offering Podrick an apologetic smile.
"I once thought… I might never see my family again. My father… my sisters…"
"Podrick, thank you for bringing Sansa and Arya back to me. Truly… I don't even know how to repay you."
"And not just that. Sansa showed me the 'gift' she brought today—I think you know what I mean… It must have been a difficult choice, yet she said you didn't hesitate at all. She was right… you are a true knight."
---
Truthfully, when Sansa—who had always been the image of a gentle lady—suddenly produced a severed head as a gift, it had shocked him deeply.
The contrast had been far too great.
But when he thought of what she had endured in King's Landing…
Robb deliberately avoided mentioning Ilyn Payne, and did not speak plainly of the head. He chose his words carefully, thinking he was being considerate.
…though he had misunderstood the situation entirely.
---
At this point, his tone grew serious.
"So no matter how I look at it, I owe you more than words. Mere gratitude is just courtesy—it isn't enough."
"Podrick… I intend to grant you a castle."
"And within my kingdom, you may choose any land you wish—so long as it has no current lord—and claim it as your own."
"I ask nothing of you. Even the cost of building the castle will be borne by House Stark."
"All I require… is that you acknowledge your lands as sworn to Winterfell."
---
After circling the matter for so long, Robb Stark finally revealed his true intention.
Or rather, the fifteen-year-old King in the North had finally shown real sincerity.
And it had to be said—his offer was astonishingly generous.
A castle alone was no small thing. It required time, wealth, labor, and craftsmen—never something achieved overnight.
But the real value lay elsewhere.
The promise that Podrick could carve out territory anywhere within Robb's domain—that was priceless.
Because as long as he wasn't greedy, Podrick could claim fertile land, enough to establish a lineage that would endure for generations.
The Riverlands themselves—under houses like House Tully and House Frey—were already under Robb's rule.
With a single stroke, Podrick could rise.
Whether he kept the Payne name or founded a new house, he would ascend into the ranks of powerful nobility.
Given time, his house might even stand alongside great families like House Stark or House Lannister.
And the price?
Simply acknowledge Stark as liege… and kneel.
---
For most, this would be a dream beyond imagination.
But unfortunately—
It wasn't what Podrick wanted.
If that had been his goal, he could have gained as much—or more—serving the Lannisters.
So under Robb's expectant gaze, Podrick paused… then smiled and shook his head.
His smile was light, like the breeze drifting over the lake.
"Thank you for your generosity, Lord Robb. But this isn't what I'm after."
"I didn't do any of this to ask something in return."
He patted Robb's shoulder and stood up.
"I prefer the freedom of the wind. I want to see higher mountains, longer rivers, farther skies."
"And if I ever want land… I'll claim it myself."
"So—good night, Robb Stark."
---
He refused—cleanly, decisively.
And with that, Podrick turned to leave.
They were far from the crowd. The wind carried away their words, leaving only silence behind.
But Robb, watching his retreating figure, suddenly felt something slip away.
An inexplicable emptiness.
He stood abruptly.
"If it's not enough—just say the word! Anything I have, you can take it!"
Podrick stopped, turning slightly.
"You've already offered more than enough, Your Grace. But it's not what I seek."
Still a refusal.
Robb clenched his teeth.
Then, remembering Sansa's eyes earlier—the love she couldn't hide—
He shouted:
"Sansa loves you!"
---
Podrick froze.
"You know it!"
"I know you know! No girl can resist the hero sent to save her… and she's no exception!"
"She's a princess. If you want her, you need land, a castle—you need to be her equal!"
---
This time, Podrick stood still for longer.
The silence stretched between them.
He knew.
Even with limited interaction, he knew he liked Sansa.
She was pure, kind, gentle—like a flower kept in a greenhouse, untouched by the world.
And because of that…
She was also naïve.
But—
Was it love?
Or something else?
---
He had only been in this world for months.
His body had changed, grown strong—but his soul was still that of a man from another life.
A man who had always lived alone.
Who had never truly loved.
Who had learned to survive, not to feel.
So now—
He hesitated.
---
"Answer me, Podrick," Robb pressed. "Marry Sansa. As her brother—and as King—I will bless you."
Podrick turned back at last.
"Girls often admire strength… mistake it for love. But can she really tell the difference?"
"And what about me…?"
He asked himself.
---
"What do you mean?" Robb's patience thinned.
Podrick gave a helpless smile.
"…Maybe we both need time."
"If I'm not mistaken… I'm only twelve. Almost thirteen."
"Give me three to five years."
"When I return—if Sansa still loves me…"
"I'll marry her."
---
As he spoke, his gaze drifted briefly toward the trees nearby, a faint smile touching his lips.
Then he looked back at Robb.
"And I want to earn her myself—not through your generosity."
"Good night… Your Grace."
---
This time, he truly left.
Not toward the feast—but along the shadows, circling back to his tent.
Inside, it was quiet. Only a few dim candles flickered.
He lay down, staring at the ceiling—patterns of old gods and weirwood carved above.
His thoughts drifted.
To his past life—distant, hollow.
To the present—filled with blood, fire, and death.
And slowly…
Podrick closed his eyes.
And fell asleep.