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Robb Returns by The Dark Scribbler
 Books » A song of Ice and Fire Rated: K+, English, Fantasy & Adventure, Eddard S./Ned, Robb S., Theon G., Domeric B., Words: 627k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 6k+, Published: Jul 16, 2015 Updated: Sep 287,742Chapter 29
Allara
She found him on the great rock at the Anvil, the northernmost point of the island. Her husband was staring North at the sea with an odd look on his face – the look of man undecided and uncertain. She ran a hand over her swollen stomach. She knew what kept him here, just as she also knew what was pulling him North. Things that she did not understand were in motion and she wanted to cry for a moment. Why couldn't things be as they had been? Why did the world have to be the way that it was?
But then she calmed herself and took a deep breath. "Here you are," she said. "I knew you'd be here."
He turned as if he had known she was there and then gave her that dazzling smile that still made her stomach turn over. He was wearing his white eyepatch today, the one that hid most of the scar that split one eyebrow and then marked his cheek. "I was watching the waves," he said teasingly. Then the smile slipped and his looked North again. "I am drawn away and I don't really know why."
"I have a suspicion," she said quietly. "Mother sent a message. The Mirror is clearer. You know what that means. And - danger grows to the North."
Her husband looked at him in some shock, before looking at the ground in contemplation. "I feared that," he said hoarsely. "I am pulled there, Allara. I am pulled there."
She strode to his side, placed her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him fiercely. "I know, I know. Just promise that you will come back."
He kissed back passionately and then placed a hand on her belly. "Always," he said intently. "Always." And then he smirked slightly. "Besides, our hall is still half-built even now."
She rolled her eyes at this. "You and your hall. It will never be big enough for you, will it?"
He ran a hand down the side of her face. "It is home," he said simply. "It has you. And our children. And our children to be. So, yes, I may be pulled North, but I will always return to you. I love you."
"And I you," she said and kissed him again. When she reluctantly freed her lips from his she sighed. "Allarion needs to talk to you."
"About what?"
"He feels the pull North too."
And this drove the blood from his face. "No!"
"Yes," she said gently. "He came to me this morning. And he is packing even as I speak. He insists on going with you."
He pulled a face and then glared at the Northern sea. "My blood sings in his veins. I wish it did not."
"Our son loves you very much," she sighed. "Besides, he says that he might see the other half of the family there. He has always wondered."
"Oh," he laughed, "I admit that I would love to see the face of my brother if he met my son! If he even still lives, the black-hearted scoundrel. Very well."
They strode down the seashore for a longest time, unwilling to part from each other for as long as possible, until they finally turned and made it back to the hall that was still unfinished because of his always-changing plans.
Their children were waiting there. Little Darion, three years old now and starting to turn into as headstrong a boy as his twin sisters, Darsha and Ela, tall pale Tarsha and then Allarion himself. He was standing there, still, composed, his hands behind his back and his dark blond hair as messy as ever. He stood a little straighter the moment that he saw his father – and then she caught his eye and nodded slightly and something seemed to pierce that composure – relief.
Her husband looked at them all, placed a hand on Allarion's shoulder and nodded at him before then kneeling before in front of the others. "I am called North, you know that don't you?"
They nodded with various degrees of understanding. Darion nodded because the others did so as well. The girls looked at him sadly. And Allarion… well, he stood ready.
"I will return. I promise you that. I and your brother will return to mother and you and our home. You have my promise. And I always keep my promises." And then their crying children hurled themselves at him and he hugged them long and hard.
Matters moved swiftly after that. Her husband liked to move quickly and pack lightly and besides, as he said with a smile, the Summer Isles lacked the kind of clothes that they would need in the North. In Westeros.
It was not until she saw him stand before the far wall of their bedroom and then slowly take down the cloth-wrapped shape that was on the shelf that she started to lose her composure. "Aye, I thought that you would take that."
He turned to her and smiled hesitantly. "I paid a heavy price for it," he said as a hand rose and then fell from his eyepatch. Then he hefted it. "But in the finding of it I also found you, so it reminds me both of the curse of duty and the joy of love. Besides… Allarion will need someone to teach him how to wield it one day."
She nodded, the tears falling down her face and then he was with her, folding her into his embrace. "I will come back. You know that. I have given my promise to you. And I always keep my promises." She cried as she hugged him back, hot and bitter tears, and he cried too. But when they broke their embrace he looked at her and then kissed her again. "Send word to me when the babe comes."
"Babes," she laughed. "They are twins, I feel it. They kick enough for it."
He looked at her and then grinned, looking as roguish as ever. "Then send word to me when the babes come. I will go first to Dorne and then take ship to White Harbour. I will write as often as I can. Allarion too." The grin faded a little. "The North calls me, wife. It sings in my blood. The Stark needs me in Winterfell. I wonder what my brother thinks of such a call, if he still lives. Probably such humiliation as I can ever imagine."
They sailed on the next tide and she stood there and waved until her husband and son were no more than a dot on the horizon. Tarsha stood next to her, silent and red-eyed. "They will return, won't they Mother?"
She placed a hand on her belly. "Never doubt that," she said fiercely. "Your father made a promise. And he always keeps his promises. A bit like he pays his debts."
Robb
As he walked down the corridor his mind was on other things. So very many other things. Things that he had done wrong the first time around and that if it came down to again he would differently. Not that much would, not this time. Things were so very different this time.
Theon was different for one thing. He seemed less boastful and more thoughtful than before and he had even seen him reading a few books, which was not very like the old Theon that he knew. Father had talked to him, he knew that, but about what exactly he knew not. What he did know was that Theon was different. For one thing he seemed to be spending some time in the Godswood. Not praying, not meeting anyone, just sitting and staring at the Heart Tree.
And then there was Jon. Who was not going to the Wall, not going to throw his life away in what might have been a futile attempt to defend the wall from the Others. No, this time it would be different. He would keep his brother close to him, as had always been the case in Winterfell. No matter what Mother said – although she had been a little more forgiving when it came to Jon these past few weeks. He frowned slightly. Why? Had Father said something to her?
He walked up a short flight of stairs and then knocked at the door. Hearing a command to enter he opened it. Inside he found Maesters Luwin and aemon, sitting at a table that was now covered in books, documents, pieces of paper and above all the rolls of parchment and skin from the secret room.
"You wanted to see me, Maesters?"
"We did indeed, young Robb Stark," Aemon said almost cheerily. "We have need of your young eyes for a start. Mine are quite inadequate as they no longer work and Luwin here is struggling a little."
"Indeed I do, my eyes are not what they were," Luwin sighed as he put down a piece of parchment. "Much of the ink has faded badly and your Lord father has ordered me to start making as many copies as possible. We cannot risk the loss of any other information."
"Aye," Aemon said grimly, "Too much has been lost already. And yet there is still so much that we do not understand. These parchments… some of them seem to be copies of records that have long been lost by Castle Black. Which disturbs me greatly. Where could they have gone to?"
There was a short silence. "Lost, I fear," Luwin said sadly. "Who knows what was lost when so many of the castles on the Wall were abandoned? Who knows what might lay in the Nightfort? Rooms such as the one here in Winterfell… rooms with information. And things that are now no longer understood."
Robb nodded. "Then let us look into what we have here Maesters. What do you want me to look at first?"
And so they started off on a voyage through time, looking through old parchments that looked as old as Winterfell in places. Robb found it more than a little eerie, to read the words of men long since dead and buried. More often than not the parchments mentioned deliveries to the Night's Watch, or descriptions of things to be noted. Which of course brought up a few problems.
"We have no context for these documents," Maester Aemon sighed. "All too often they refer to things that the Starks of old, or the Night's Watch took for granted. That last document referred to the 'usual delivery' from the Last Hearth. They obviously knew what they were referring to. We, sadly, do not. This is most vexing. I feel as if we are viewing a map, but that we cannot read the names of the places on it."
Something tickled at the back of Robb's mind, but he put it to one side when he realised that he couldn't quite place it. Instead he moved on to the next one, which was an old skin with the writing very faded indeed. Pulling it close he squinted at it and read it carefully. After a moment he frowned. "Maesters, listen to this. 'Whyn yr Starke did arryve att Castell Black he did inspect ye armoury and rote wroth whyn he did view ye weapons, crying that they were of steel and nott glytterglass, as was told in ye rules handed down from ye Time of Heroes. But ye Lord Commander did say that ye Peoples North of ye Wall did vex them and that steel was needed.'"
He looked at them. "The old Night's Watch didn't use steel, they used this 'Glytterglass', whatever that is. Why would they do that? Unless… they needed it to fight the Others."
Luwin nodded thoughtfully and then went scrabbling through the records. "Wait, there was another reference, here… ah, yes. 'And whyn ye Lord Commander asked why there were shards of stone in ye armoury, he wast told that-' And the rest of the record is too faded to see. Humph. Robb, can you look at this?"
Robb took it and then peered at it. Yes, it was very faded. "I take it that all these records will be copied out again?"
Both Maesters nodded and he quirked a smile before looking back at the piece of parchment. "wast told… that… they were… from… olden tymes, but… that… the armourer knew nott… why they… were there."
There was a short silence. "Weapons to use against the Others is my guess," Robb said slowly as he put the pieces together. Then he turned and looked at the little pile of arrowheads to one side, before picking one up. "This is stone – and it glitters. What is it made from?"
"Obsidian," Luwin said slowly. "Which is also known as dragonglass. It can be found in old volcanoes."
"It's all over Dragonstone," Aemon breathed. His sightless eyes were moving from side to side, as he was obviously in the grip of deep thought. "A stone born out of heat – and such a heat! Born from the bowels of the earth. Born from fire. And with the Others linked so closely to the far North and the ice there…"
"Fire beats ice. The stone affects the Others!" Robb blurted, suddenly excited. "The siege of the Glittering Crag, which became the Last Hearth – there are no volcanoes in the North that I know of, but if the place was an old volcano, like an older version of Dragonstone…"
"We have a weapon," Maester Aemon said with a grim intensity. "We have something that can be used to fight the Others. And that, my friends is something that we must pass to Castle Black at once. We will need more obsidian and we will need to train the Night's Watch in its use. And they will resist that."
Robb and Luwin both stared at the old man. "Why?" Robb asked eventually.
"Why because they are used to their swords. Their steel swords. I cannot imagine Alliser Thorne, the master-at-arms at Castle Black taking well to being told that he needs to train the men to use stone weapons against the Others. He is a humourless man enough as it is. And besides, there is another problem. We have these arrowheads, but they are a drop in the ocean to what we need. Can you say that every arrow will find their mark? And if they work against the Others, do they also work against wights? The records say naught about that. Will we need steel against wights, but obsidian against the Others? Can we create obsidian daggers? Or swords? From I remember the stone is sharp but also can be brittle." He smiled slightly. "We have made a good start, but we have far to go. Young Robb, you have a good head for war on your shoulders. You can see the difficulties, can you not?"
Robb thought the matter through. "I can," he agreed. "Maesters, I must bring this to my Lord Father. And also Lord Umber. He will know what stones can be mined at the Last Hearth. And if need be Father can send a raven to Stannis Baratheon and ask for obsidian from Dragonstone."
He stood and left quickly, striding down the corridor with urgent steps. And as he did he found himself looking in the direction of the woods yet again. The pull was growing stronger. The direwolf that would birth grey Wind was getting closer, he could feel it. And then he broke into a run. He had the feeling that they were starting to run out of time.
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