Robb was in his command tent, outside the walls of Riverrun. His mother had pleaded with him to take residence within the castle. She said it was more fitting to his station as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. He knew the real reason was that she wanted him to spend as much time as possible with his grandfather before the end. Hoster Tully's days were drawing to a close and his mother wanted him there to ease his passing in whatever way he could. Robb went into the city every morning to pay his respects and spend an hour or so with them, he owed them that much at least. But he understood his greater duty lay with the men he'd brought here to fight this war. That was why he resided in the camp. He owed it to the men who'd bled and died for him to live as they did. More of them were going to die for him so he had to do whatever he could for them. Oh, they weren't dying only for him. They were doing it to avenge his father and Sansa, to protect the people of the Riverlands, to ensure the rightful king sat the Iron Throne, and to bring justice to the Lannisters for all their heinous crimes. But he had been the one to call the banners, he the one to reject Tywin Lannister's offer of peace and take Jaime Lannister's head. Robb had chosen war, and he had to do whatever was necessary to bring that war to a successful end.

He was seated at a plain table stacked high with sheets of parchment. Letters, reports, lists, and requests all called for his attention. He was looking at one particular dispatch which held a request. It reminded him of an important obligation. Robb sighed. It was yet another duty that he did not relish, but one he needed to deal with. Taking a fresh parchment he dipped his pen into the ink and began to scratch out a reply.

As he did so there was the sound of gasps coming from another area of the large tent. Along with the pants was the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh. The pace picked up and there were grunts and pleas mixed in as well. Robb tried to ignore it as best he could until a climatic cry rang out.

A few minutes later a pretty maid with messy hair came out from behind a draped curtain. "My lord," she said with a quick curtsey. He nodded to her and she quickly exited the tent.

Not long after Theon came out from the same curtain wearing only his breeches. There was a sheen of sweat covering him and a pleased look on his face. "I may have planted a little kraken inside her, lucky girl."

Robb poured wax onto the letter and placed his seal. "I'm sure that's how her father will see it. What will you do if he comes looking for you to demand you marry her?"

Theon laughed and shook his head. "I'll have to take her I suppose. I wouldn't mind, she'd make a good salt wife. And a prince like me should have lots of bastards running about."

Robb couldn't hear that word without thinking of his brother Jon. He treasured his friendships with Theon, but knew how little he thought of bastards. Robb was glad that at least Jon would be safe at the Wall, far from the battlefield. "You've told me about salt wives, I doubt any man from here would be happy to know his daughter is going to be part of a herd."

Theon winked and picked up a canter of wine and a goblet. "I'll just have to skip over the details."

"I still haven't heard from Balon. You need to keep writing to him."

"It's a waste of time and ink," Theon took a swallow. "My father doesn't give a damn about Stannis."

"He is the rightful king," Robb said sternly. "With Robert's death Balon owes Stannis the same fealty he gave to King Robert."

"My father only bent the knee after most of his ships were sunk, the walls to his castle torn down, and both my brothers killed. He's not going to come running because I ask him to. I've told you this already, if you're serious about having him support Stannis's claim you need to let me go see him face to face. I'm his heir, I know if I can just talk to him I'd be able to bring him over to our side."

Robb shook his head. "You're a hostage to the crown, only the king can release you."

Theon made a face and took another drink of wine. "And what does King Stannis say? You've heard from him."

Robb had received messages from the king, they had been short and to the point. "All he said was that you're to remain in my care."

"He doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust any Greyjoy. He probably expects me to turn raider at the first chance. Honestly, he made a smuggler a knight, you'd think he'd be more open minded."

"When the king arrives we'll talk to him together and try to convince him to let you go."

Theon emptied his cup and refilled it. "Any news from the field?"

Robb set aside the letter and pulled out a couple reports from a stack. "Tywin's army is still at Harrenhal. Gregor Clegane is loose somewhere near Gods Eye, and Brynden swears he'll run him down. Roose Bolton and his men are in the western lands doing, 'good work.'" Robb frowned. "He doesn't say anything more than that."

Theon chuckled. "He knows you're a Stark."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he knows you don't really want to know what he's up to. Do you truly need to have it writ small? What do you think Bolton and his men are doing? They're paying back Tywin for what he had Clegane do to the Riverlands."

"The small folk living in the Westlands have not wronged us."

"They belong to Tywin, and hurting them hurts him."

"That doesn't make it just. I should never have listened to Roose and the others, all they want is revenge for what Gregor did. Burning down villages and killing farmers isn't justice."

"See? This is why Bolton doesn't say much." Theon sat down next to his friend. "What about Renly?"

"He's still in the Reach, gathering up supporters. The last report said he was holding a tournament at Lowell."

"It's been a month. He could have marched on King's Landing by now. Does he expect to take the Iron Throne in a tourney?"

"Who knows? King Stannis has ordered I not try to negotiate with him. I'm forbidden from even corresponding."

"Looks like I'm not the only one Stannis doesn't trust," Robb sent him an unhappy look. "When does Stannis and his army arrive?"

"In about two weeks."

"Best enjoy yourself while you can then, because I'm betting as soon as the king arrives things will start to happen."

Robb glanced down at the letter and nodded.

XXX

"What happened here?" Lommy asked. His voice was thin and his face pale.

"Isn't it obvious?" Gendry answered. "There was a battle."

There had been a small village here, with an Inn and perhaps thirty homes. The buildings were all charred and blackened. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of bodies among them and all over the surrounding field. Swarms of crows and other birds hopped about feasting on them. A sudden breeze came up, causing everyone to cover their noses and mouths. Hot Pie bent over and gagged.

As soon as the smell of rot lessened Lommy spoke up. "Let's go loot the bodies."

"We can't do that!" Arya said furiously.

"Why not? They'll have purses filled with coins and weapons! It's not like they need them anymore." Lommy argued.

"There'll be no looting," Yoren yelled as he hobbled over to them. "The Night's Watch is a brotherhood of warriors, not a bunch of grave robbers. Besides, this lot has already been picked clean. First thing that always happens after a battle."

"That can't be true," Arya said. "None of the histories I've read ever mentions that."

"Lots of things in war they don't bother to write down. War's a dirty business, it ain't all heroes and noble deeds. Now let's get moving, I want us far from here before we make camp for the night."

"Which side do you think won?" Arya asked.

"The Starks," Yoren answered immediately.

"How can you tell?" Gendry asked.

"That look like a wolf to you?" Yoren pointed at the nearest corpse. It clearly had on the distinctive helmet and armor that Lannister soldiers wore, as did many of the others.

"What does that prove?" Lommy asked. "There are probably dead from the other side too."

Yoren pointed north to a spot where the grass had been torn up and they could see mounds of fresh earth. "Those are graves, boy. The side that won took the time to bury their dead, but left their enemy for the crows," Yoren glanced at Arya. "The Starks won, no question. Now get your asses moving you lazy louts!"

The wagon started to roll and the boys fell in step behind it. As they went Arya looked at the bodies surrounding them and smiled. She hoped to see a lot more dead Lannisters.

XXX

Gregor Clegane was at the head of a column of forty-three men. It was all that remained of a force of five hundred he had led out to make the Riverlands bleed. They were on a twisting forest road headed south to Harrenhal. He was going to have to face Lord Tywin and admit he'd been defeated. Gregor wasn't used to failure and it put him in a black mood. That cowardly bastard, Brynden Tully, had had caught him as his men were busy putting the torch to some shit village. The Black Fish had charged down on them while they were on foot and scattered. Gregor had killed ten men and roared at his soldiers to stand and fight, but there'd been no chance to form up. It was a rout from the beginning and he'd been forced to flee with as many as he could.

Clegane knew he was no proper battlefield commander. He was good at killing. It was easy for him and he figured that it should be just as easy for any fool with a sword. He would tell his soldiers who to kill and let them sort the rest out. They called him Tywin's mad dog, and it was a title Clegane was proud of. He knew Lord Tywin would forgive this failure, he just didn't like the thought of having to stand before his lord and admit to it. The humiliation of being forced to run away like a whipped dog was all he could think of. It was what was playing on his mind when a hail of arrows came out of the brush not twenty paces away.

Gregor had his plate armor on and it shielded him from a couple of them. His horse though was vulnerable. The steed caught one in its neck and reared up. Gregor was off guard and instinctively tried to hold on. He was still in the saddle when the beast toppled over. Gregor gave a loud shout, more of frustration than anything else. The damned horse had pinned his left leg, trapping him. He shouted for his men to come and free him. Instead, he saw them scatter and flee into the forest. After the disaster against Tully the cowards had no stomach for a fight. The ones who were not killed in the first volley ran away as fast as they could.

"Come back you fucking cowards!" Gregor screamed at the top of his lungs. He tried to pull out his great sword, but it was trapped beneath his leg. Try as he might he could not get it out of its scabbard.

With his soldiers all either dead of gone figures came out of the wood. Gregor was disgusted to see there were only twenty of them, a sorry looking lot dressed in common rage and homespun. He was surprised to recognize one them, Thoros of Myr, the drunk priest Robert had been so fond of. Gregor was shocked when he saw a man walking beside him with an eye patch over his right eye.

"Dondarrion! What sort of trick is this?" He glared at Thoros. "Is this some kind of evil magic?"

"Oh, it's something a lot more than magic," Thoros said. The man looked up into the sky. "Lord of Light! Your humble servants thank you for granting them this sign of your favor."

Gregor turned his attention to the other man. Beric had not spoken a word, but had calmly walked around the fallen horse to stand over Gregor. He was staring down solemnly with his one remaining eye. "I killed you. I put my dagger through your eye all the way to the hilt."

Dondarrion gave a single nod. "I remember, it's not the sort of thing I'm likely to forget."

"You're dead! You're dead! You can't be here. You can't be real."

"I'm real enough," Beric drew out his sword.

Gregor gave a desperate last yank, but still could not free his blade. He glared up furiously. "Not like this damn it! At least let me die on my feet like a man!"

"You don't get a say in how you die," Thoros said. "No more than any of your victims did."

"I was charged by King Robert and by the Hand of the King Lord Eddard Stark to bring you to justice," Dondarrion said calmly as he raised his sword. "The Lord of Light shall judge you and you shall answer for every crime you have committed."

Gregor laughed and spoke his last words. "Fuck you."

The sword fell, and justice was done.