5.2 Dry ink
One of the things no one tells you about war, is that it was boring. Keeping your own men from losing themselves to boredom while waiting for their next orders to march was a challenge Theon didn't expect when they left Winterfell.
"Reiner of Winterton strikes the target at eighty yards!" Ser Robin Ryger, Riverrun's captain of the guards, announced.
They were on the plains in front of Riverrun in one of the many small contests their men organized 'on a whim'. In truth it was Riverrun's steward the one pushing for these contests. "It is a good outlet for the soldiers' passions, my lord. Cheaper besides," he said.
Apparently, during Robert's Rebellion, Riverrun was left with little food and less wine after hosting the rebel army. Some smallfolk fields were destroyed and over a dozen bastards were born in the following months. Theon thought it rubbish, but since he hadn't heard of any destroyed field, he didn't say much.
After a few more rounds a Valeman hunter won a bag of silver stags as price.
It was, of course, a farce. Theon would have easily defeated him. Seven hells, the Redfort boy would have defeated him as well. But these contests were for the soldiers of no name, to keep them competing amongst themselves or some such nonsense.
What good was it? If you couldn't be the best out of everyone, there was no point in these games. If the smallfolk rabble kept winning, they may even begin to think they are equals to the highborn in skill.
Theon felt the specter his bow in his hands and had to take a long breath to center himself.
It didn't matter. Not now. Not this close from bringing war to the Kingslayer.
To release the tension he was feeling, he had only two choices that came to mind. Sadly, Shae was still occupied on the kitchens, it would take a long time to find her so he settled for the training yard.
He picked up a bow and lost himself on the twang of the string. Once, twice, thrice he shot. Breathe in, draw, aim, release. Everything came as easy as breathing.
"You're going to finish the stockpile of arrows before supper if you keep at it," the Blackfish said from the side. His steps were always light, even in full plate, one had to sharpen their ears to hear him coming. In leathers? Theon would wager nobody in the Seven Kingdoms could hear his arrival.
"I could try," he answered and nocked another arrow. His arms could go on for a little longer still.
The Blackfish waited for him to release his bow before talking. "The lords and soldiers will hear of the letter soon enough."
And water was wet.
Stannis was able to send his letter to the most important houses in the realm all the while being stuck in the midsts of his campaign and with little to no access to maesters and scribes. Cersei, on her part, sent her letter from the Red Keep. With how many scribes and learned men Robb needed to manage his kingdom, Theon could only begin to imagine how many letters Cersei had sent.
"Yes, and most of them will mark the accusations for what they are," Theon scoffed. "A desperate attempt at keeping the Iron Throne under Lannister control."
"It doesn't matter if they believe it or not, they will still use it against His Grace, The story will take hold in our camp. Some men will believe it, the rest will find an interesting story," the Blackfish said. "Regardless, that is not my real concern. His Grace is rattled. A commander can't lose his composure, not before a battle."
Theon nocked another arrow and aimed with feigned calm. A breeze ruffled his hair and made his arrow miss.
The story Cersei wove was engaging, some would call it enthralling even, that much he could admit. A girl foolish enough to join a tourney as a secret knight; a prince finding that girl's sense of justice appealing; love or perhaps obsession; a secret marriage or perhaps forced marriage; the fruit of the forbidden union killing the mother at his birth; and Lord Stark bringing the babe to the North to reclaim the throne for him and make himself regent when the time came.
A riveting story for certain, but it didn't match Lord Stark's character, not one bit. The man was cold as winter and unbending with his convictions. Theon could not see a man like him raising Jon into adulthood, waiting for Robert to die and then crowning the secret heir of the Iron Throne as a mere puppet.
And that was without mentioning the many delicate pieces of the supposed plan.
Disregarding the well known friendship between Robert and the Warden of the North, what if the man died after Jon became a man proper? A regent wouldn't be needed. In that instance, perhaps he could become the Hand of the King, but at the same time, that position was almost guaranteed with Robert. All Lord Stark needed to do was to send a raven before Jon Arryn's demise; hells, after the old man died Robert named him his Hand.
It was obviously a lie. That's what he told Robb. Theon poked at every single point of the story in tandem with the Blackfish. The Lannisters were desperate and they were lashing out. It was a simple explanation.
But through it all, Robb's face kept frozen. Only once did Theon saw a face like that, it was when news of of a small village in the eastern limits of the Wolfswood being washed away by summer rain reached Winterfell. Lord Stark's face that time was the same his heir had.
"Theon?" the Blackfish interrupted his musings.
He gulped a sigh. "Has His Grace finally decided to ask one of his bannermen directly?"
"Aye, it was a good suggestion. He'll summon Lady Mormont after dinner."
"Good," Theon said and nocked another arrow.
A conversation with someone who had been at Harrenhal should clear his friend's head. Cersei's story had too many claims, just thwarting one should be enough to get past the stupid letter.
He released his arrow. This time it found its target.
"Don't go to bed early," the Blackfish said. "I believe my nephew will need some good wine and company tonight."
"Shouldn't we send a maid or two?" Theon quipped.
"Unlike his namesake, His Grace is too honorable to bring any girl to his rooms."
Aye, that was Robb, without a doubt. "Sometimes, he acts like an—" old knight, Theon almost said, but sighed to cover up. "Robb was easier to cheer up before he became king."
He turned and put the bow back where he found it. Hoping the Blackfish didn't caught his slip up. He looked around for the arrows, some squire would recover them and put them away.
The Blackfish sighed. "Things were easier just a few months back. I'll find you after dinner, well bring the last of my brother's wine to His Grace together." He patted Theon's shoulder and left.
It was a good thing the Blackfish didn't notice his slip up. Being trained directly by him sounded good until all you did was ride your horse in full armor for hours on end hitting a small ring with your lance over and over again until exhaustion. And then keep repeating the same because 'your enemy won't let you rest'.
With a final stretch to his limbs, Theon left for the Main Hall. He would take advantage of the time he had to come up with better arguments and reassurances for Robb. Gods knew his friend could be as stubborn as a wolf with his teeth sunk in his prey.
###
There were very few times when Theon missed Jon. This was one of them.
"I know most of it are lies," Robb said. "It's just that some of it feels true… First of all, why would Rhaegar crown my aunt in the presence of his wife? It doesn't make sense."
A single conversation with Maege Mormont wasn't enough to chase his doubts away. And while Lyanna's crowning was the first thing every story teller told about the Rebellion, it could be explained quite simply.
"The Targaryens were mad, Robb," Theon said, exhausted to repeat the line once again. "Seven hells, Aerys was called the Mad King. Rhaegar could have been just as mad."
"Except he wasn't," Robb said. "No matter who I ask, everyone believed Rhaegar was going to be a good and wise king. Before Harrenhal, no one believed Rhaegar could insult his wife so."
This was precisely why Theon was missing Jon. The bastard turned lord could have simply laughed Robb's worries, called him an idiot for even allowing himself to think of the letter, and then talk about something inane as farming tools or about how many more scribes they needed.
"People change Robb," Theon replied. He couldn't handle this as gracefully as Jon, but he could try. "Bennard Stark was known as a good man and true, but when it was time for him to relinquish his position as regent he tried to usurp Cregan Stark. Something must have turned him mad to try and usurp Cregan Stark."
Robb muttered something under his breath that sounded like he didn't agree. All Theon could think was that Jon could have settled this with a simple laugh. If Theon were to laugh, it would sound as if he was mocking Robb instead of sharing a jape between them.
Jon could have settled this because he was a Stark too. It was as simple as that.
Besides… Theon could admit, if only to himself, that some parts of the letter that did sound true enough.
Lord Stark bringing back the ancestral sword of the Daynes after slaying their last wielder… It was a story of honor, of knighthood… and it was one of the things he found hard to believe.
The letter had another version of events.
If the wielder himself brought guests to his ancestral home, then Theon could believe the story of the Daynes helping the two Northerners in the tearing down of the famed tower of joy to build cairns for the deceased.
"I'll let you know, I met Aerys when we both were young," the Blackfish said while sipping from his cup.
"Was his mind lost when he was young?" Robb's gaze rose when he asked the question.
"No." The Blackfish poured himself more wine before continuing. "He was a good prince. I remember he liked to sit around his soldiers in the campfire to share stories while in campaign. He always spoke of how he was going to change the realm, how he was going to need everyone's help. Every veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings has fond memories of Prince Aerys. We all thought he was going to be a good king when his time came."
That was unexpected.
"That's…" Robb's words fell short to express his surprise. Theon couldn't blame him, and from the looks the Blackfish gave them, he didn't blame them either.
"From the way it all ended, your disbelief is warranted." The Blackfish swirled the wine in his cup. "But it is true, Aerys wasn't mad. He was a good man, or at least, he could pretend to be one, very well."
That was a good question. An unsettling question.
Was Aerys mad from the moment he opened his eyes, or did the Targaryen madness took a hold of him slowly over the years. And the most important—
"Rhaegar… was he… what did you think of him, uncle?"
"I heard of him long before I met him. People called him the Silver prince, the perfect prince. The perfect knight. The prince is enchanting, they said. The prince is a good man, they told. The prince has plans, they repeated." The Blackfish heavy gaze stopped his breathing for a second. "All I could hear, was how similar he was to Aerys. And gods forgive me, for I too was convinced that he could be different."
Silence fell into the room. The sound of the drizzle beyond the walls was the only sound that could be heard. Even the shadows grew darker.
"Robb," Theon said. "I'll be honest with you, there are parts of the letter that sound true, but it doesn't matter. I don't know if Rhaegar was mad or not, I don't know what happened in the Red Mountains of Dorne at the end of the war. What I do know, is that Jon is your brother. That's all that matters." Theon gulped the rest of the wine in his cup and poured himself some more. "That, and breaking the Kingslayer's army once more."
The last sentence made them all broke in laughter.
"Aye, that's exactly right," the Blackfish said raising his cup. "To ending this war!"
"To ending this war!" they chorused.
On their third cup of wine Theon saw his friend more at ease. Robb wasn't fully convinced, but at least he regained his focus and brought out a map and his carved wolves and lions. If he wanted a confirmation of Robb's settling his mind for now, that was as clear indication as any.
A while later, the Blackfish stretched on his chair.
"It appears my body is reminding me I'm not a young man anymore," he said. "These old bones need some rest."
Half an hour later, Theon and Robb finished the little wine that was left and stood up to leave.
In the door, Robb grabbed him by his shoulder. "You are my brother too, Theon. Thanks."
"You are drunk Stark. Go get some rest."
Robb laughed and left.
On the way to his rooms, his chest was warm and light at the same time. He was also drunk, it seemed.
###
Robb called a meeting in the afternoon. Similar to how he addressed Stannis' letter, the plan was to make sure to squash any gossip and doubt. Simple and hopefully effective.
Even if it was a little late to completely quell the whispers in the camp, the delay would be explained by how angered was Robb at reading the false claims Cersei made in her letter.
Or at least that was supposed to be what the meeting was about.
A rider arrived before noon, his mount, frothing, collapsed the moment it crossed the gate.
"I have a message for His Grace!" the muddied man called, a sealed letter in his hand.
Things moved fast from there.
One moment they were discussing on how to move their host and supplies through a mountain pass to get past the Golden Tooth, and the next they were frantically marching to Wayfarer's Rest.
The Kingslayer caught them unaware.
It was unexpected. No one, not Robb, not the Blackfish, not Bronze Yohn, not Theon thought they would be defending the pass below the Golden Tooth.
The Blackfish put it better. "It's a reckless and stupid move. No commander would thought of attacking against these odds."
Which was why they weren't prepared. The movement was so sudden that they couldn't afford to bring their whole infantry with them. Robb choose to bring only his riders and sent half his infantry along the Red Fork to prevent any raiding and the other half to march behind them as reinforcements.
The Kingslayer may have surprised them, but he was still at a disadvantage. With the Valemen joining them, Robb left Riverrun with six thousand horses and a thousand more would be joining them on their way. They would join the five hundred horses at Wayfarer's rest with the two thousand infantry already there.
No matter how one looked at it, the Kingslayer's move was more a desperate wager that he already lost.
Mayhaps sensing the general feeling on his camp, Robb addressed his lords the night before reaching Wayfarer's rest.
"It doesn't matter what the Kingslayer plans are. Our plan is the same. He will crumble before our steel!" Robb said to his lords.
The lords chorused their words, some promised to bring the Kingslayer themselves. Tankards were filled and drained, songs were sung and weapons polished. There was little more to do, tomorrow they would join the host from Wayfarer's rest and march to the passage to confront the Kingslayer.
Theon emptied his cup and got up to find his tent. 'It doesn't matter.' Those words kept repeating these days.
He opened the flaps to his tent, and he found… no one.
Shae had stayed at Riverrun, she was terrified of battlefields so he didn't push her to follow him. The first night of their march, Theon thought to find some camp follower to warm his bed, but it seemed he picked up on Robb's antics. Bringing any woman to his tent just felt… not right.
Theon sighed and cursed his honorable friend, just a little, and started oiling and polishing his armor. One of these days, he would need to get himself a squire to do it for him.
It may not have been the way he expected things to go, but the end result would be the same. They would capture the Kingslayer and then bring the war to the Westerlands. He would carve himself a kingdom and his name would be forever remembered.
Theon the Land Kraken. His father would have no choice but to honor him when he finally returned to the Iron Islands.
Robb calling him brother came to his mind all of a sudden.
Hah! That fool.
With a final stretch, Theon went to sleep. A decisive battle was close, last time he couldn't sleep well days before the clash and spent his time calling Robb a fool for letting the battle jitters get to him.
This time, Robb seemed well enough, so Theon let him deal with his lords. His friend would complain to him later, but that was fine. Hearing Robb grumble for a while was much better than dealing with the dull Vale lords.
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A/N: So you guys heard of the tourney of Harrenhal play? A lot of theories crashed and burned, and some new questions had to be raised. It's fine though, I'm still a Rhaegar hater.
Next chapter we have the "Battle in the hills below the Golden Tooth II". Does someone know what pushed Jaime to foolishly and recklessly attack here?
You can read two chapters ahead: p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / yorud
Anyways, give me your comments ヽ(•‿•)ノ