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The Winter Witch by Kneazle
 Harry Potter & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, [Hermione G., Robb S.] Roose B., Words: 281k+, Favs: 3k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Oct 16, 2017 Updated: Mar 20 2,575Chapter 6: I:VI
The Winter Witch VI
AN: Dialogue from 2.06 at the end, "The Old Gods and the New".
It's the time between battles that is boring.
The battle itself is fast, frantic; there is the pounding of armoured boots, the stampede of hooves, and the shouts and cries of men, as well as the scent of freshly dug up earth, piss, and other bodily fluids. It's screams and calls for help, with the loud pounding of the heart in the ears and the furiously panting of breathes against the rough inner plate of the mouth guard in the helmet.
Everything else is boring, including inventory, thought Robb.
Two weeks on from Riverrun (and from Hermione, his brain supplied), Robb was in his tent, surrounded on all sides by his Kingsguard as well as several Northern Lords who would lead the foot soldiers.
Over a week ago, Grey Wind had found a lesser-known path through the mountains between the riverlands and the edge of the westerlands - where the outermost banner men for the Lannisters lived - and at the village of Oxcross, Robb and his army took Stafford Lannister and his men by surprise. The man had not placed sentries up to monitor the area, and Robb took advantage of that, using not only his fledgling warging abilities - peering through Grey Wind's eyes to see the area and camp - but also to use Grey Wind himself to scare the Lannister horses.
It wasn't much of a battle, though. It was over within hours, and the Northern army picked off stragglers as the sun rose over the crest of the mountains, the sunlight bleeding its ways across the treetops of the valley.
The success bolstered the men, and Robb sent an update on the parchment Hermione spelled for them listing each member of his army and House sworn to him, and their duties while apprising them of his situation. The Northern army commanders with him had congratulatory notes of their success and a few knighthoods to celebrate; Lord Bolton left men who were moving south along the Trident, towards Harrenhal and route the Lannister forces along the way, predominantly engaging the Mountain - Gregor Clegane - and his men in battle to keep them busy and away from supporting Tywin's forces.
His mother, despite being wary of Lady Hermione and her magic, appreciated the secure line of communication she created, and announced her own journey south to treat with Renly Baratheon, just after Edmure left with his host.
Edmure. Robb's mouth turned down at the thought of his uncle. His last message was to hold Riverrun - which the man was doing, although there had been a worrisome note that accompanied Edmure's most recent update: Planning a feint to draw in T Lannister - it will keep him from being too close to Harrenhal for a strategic retreat. We have a plan that will draw him further into the riverlands.
But who is "we"? And what doesn't he understand about my orders to 'hold Riverrun'? I didn't say go forth and have a bloody battle, wondered Robb, the night before the northern army was to attack Ashemark. The castle was close to Casterly Rock, along with the Crag, and therefore were two of the more important seats that Robb needed to take. His advisors - predominantly his Great-Uncle, the Blackfish, and the Greatjon - had taken his suggestions and battle plans and refined them to the point that Robb was incredibly sure of their success.
But while his mind was on the morning - of that battle to happen - there was a part of him back at Riverrun.
He knew it.
And his men knew it, too.
"Shall we go over the battle plan for the morning, Your Majesty?" suggested the Blackfish in a loud voice, startling Robb enough that he pressed the communication parchment down with the flat of his palm on the tabletop.
His blue eyes flew up, and caught on his Great-Uncle and the man's knowing smirk. At the other side of the large man, stood Lord Bolton, who wordlessly tipped his head to the side.
Robb followed the direction and his eyes fell on his fifteen-year-old squire, the one he was forced to take on through Walder Frey's ridiculous terms that his mother agreed to; Olyvar, completely unaware of his King's eyes on him, stepped forward and filled Robb's cup with more ale.
Oh, he thought, and mentally winced. A reminder. And a caution.
Robb cleared his throat. "Thank you, Olyvar."
The teen, all gangly arms and legs, beamed up at him. "Your Grace." He then stepped back and Robb turned his attention to the map in front.
"Right," the young King began, his voice carrying across the tent, "This is the plan for attacking Ashemark in the morning…"
Originally, Edmure wanted to meet Tywin Lannister and his forces at the Red Fork, the southernmost run of the Trident River. It was barely a weeks' ride from Harrenhal, but strategically smart as the bank on one side of the river was higher than the other, and steeper. It would've been hell for any force trying to cross the cold water north towards Riverrun.
Hermione, as well as Torrhen, Lord Jason Mallister (an older man similar in age to Edmure's father, she was told), Lord Tytos Blackwood (another robust man in his early fifties sworn to the Tullys), Lord Karyl Vance, and Lord Jonos Bracken, talked him out of it.
"What's the point of a feint, drawing him in, if you're all that willing to meet him closer to Harrenhal?" she argued.
Edmure frowned. "It's a good location for a battle - we'd have the high ground."
"We can give up the high ground of the Trident for other locations along the way," rumbled Mallister in a low, gravelly voice. "The plan you have of creating strategic forts along both sides of the river is sound, but not so close."
"The point is to drive Tywin Lannister out of Harrenhal and far enough away that he can't retreat without heavy loss or being cut down from behind," replied Torrhen, crossing thick his arms across a very muscled chest. Not that Hermione was eyeing him, not at all.
They were together in a large canvas tent, standing around a heavy table that several squires and knights had brought in with them. A large map of the riverlands had been unrolled and stretched across the table, with Lord Vance and Lord Bracken's cups of ale holding two corners down flat. On the other corner were two small candelabras, dripping wax rolling down the handles and pooling onto the map over the Bloody Gate and the Crag. Hermione's eyes lingered on the name of the castle near the sea, knowing that Robb and his men would be marching toward it soon.
"But there are castles between Harrenhal and Riverrun that need defending, too," argued Bracken, the man's blue eyes flashing as he glared at Hermione.
"You're not the only one with a castle in the way," snorted Blackwood, rolling his eyes. "Or have you forgotten that Raventree Hall can draw Tywin's eyes just as easily as Stone Hedge?" The man's dark eyes narrowed and a small smirk appeared on his lips underneath his moustache. "Or is it that Stone Hedge can't defend itself as well as Raventree Hall?"
"Alright!" called Edmure loudly, physically holding his arms up on either side as to keep the two men, who were glaring at each other from over their liege lord's son's head, apart. "The trick will be drawing in the Lannister forces, thinking they have us on the run."
"Best begin here," said Mallister, pointing just northeast of Riverrun along the Red Fork. "We can place a large amount - or what Tywin will think is a large amount of soldiers - here. He'll come up through Acorn Hall and High Heart and meet us on the Fork."
"That will spare both Raventree Hall and Stone Hedge," agreed Vance, a tall, quiet man, nodding as his eyes took in the map.
"Are Lord Bolton's men still fighting for Harrenhal?" asked Edmure, glancing at Hermione.
She sighed. Somehow, probably due to being the person who created the communications parchments, she had become their secretary. She shuffled through the many papers on her side of the table, and Torrhen, who stood nearly an entire foot above her, leaned down to look over her shoulder.
The tall, muscular bodyguard Robb had assigned to her nodded. "Lord Bolton's man, a Vorgos? Anyway - he wrote that he's attempting another assault on the castle. He has around ten thousand to aid him."
Bracken scowled. "So does Tywin."
The men all shared looks. Eventually, Edmure cleared his throat nervously. "How many do we have?"
Mallister sent him a look, and Hermione inaudibly sighed. You should know how many men you command, Edmure…
"Around the same," the older man said.
Around her, the men began speaking of how many men they would put where, where they could retreat, and where they could advance. Hermione's eyes glanced all over the map, again, and she rolled her bottom lip into her mouth to begin chewing on it.
In order to hold Riverrun, and stop Tywin Lannister from progressing further north, they had to do two things: either crush him entirely, or decimate his numbers enough that he was forced to flee back to his vassals, or elsewhere. Ideally, keeping him from returning to any of his vassals was important; that meant less men for him to attack Robb with, especially as the northern army only had a fraction of the men that both Edmure and Lord Bolton's man controlled. But attacking him so soundly would be to take away from Robb's desire to do so, given that man's family had singularly attacked his. Not that Hermione agreed with revenge…
"In the end, it won't matter," she finally spoke up, drawing their attention.
"What's she doing here, again?" asked Bracken, his voice annoyed.
Torrhen's hand immediately moved to the hilt of his sword, just as Edmure spoke up, "Here, now, Bracken - she's helping us!"
"Helping how?" the man continued. "What will she do? Cast a spell? Make a magic potion? The witches of Asshai use their blood magic to-"
Whatever the witches of Asshai did with their blood magic (and Hermione would rather love to know - but another day), no one ever found out. Hermione instead had her wand pointed at the man, who was now mouthing words soundlessly.
"Lord Bracken, I am here to help this army succeed as much as they can," she snapped, eyes flashing amber. "I understand that you don't like me, nor do you trust me - and the feeling is mutual. But I want to help, and that is what I will do. So don't get in my way."
She lifted the wordless silencio she had cast. The tent was tense and silent under her threat and the presence of magic.
Bracken scowled, but cleared his throat to test it, and then said, in a very gruff voice, "Fine."
Lord Vance shifted nervously, while Blackwood almost looked gleeful at the other man's dressing down. Edmure shook his head, and muttered, "We need to work together, Lady Hermione."
Hermione took at the admonishment with ease, letting it roll off her shoulders. "Look - keep in mind I don't need to be here. I can head back to Riverrun easily and leave completely. What I can do is make things easier, whether it is set up proximity wards, or cast an illusion. I can make ten men look like a hundred or set up wards that will herd the Lannister forces directly to you." She met the men's eyes as she spoke. "Are you really going to turn away help when it is offered freely?"
Blackwood let out a muffled laugh, and Mallister sighed. "Very well - Lady Hermione, what do you suggest?"
Hermione pointed her finger to where Mallister had suggested they ultimately meet the Lannister forces, north on the Red Fork but instead of northeast, southwest of Riverrun and across from Stone Mill. "Let's have the majority of the forces here, like Lord Mallister suggested. We'll set up a series of defenses along the way, starting from Acorn Hall. The Lannister forces will need to pass near it to make their way towards us."
"It's a small keep," said Vance quietly, knowing that it was under his protection. "An invading force would destroy it."
"We can make sure they pass it," soothed Hermione, looking directly at the man. "I can Apparate there in a series of small hops, or Torrhen and a few others can ride down ahead with me. I can set up Muggle Repellant wards, and those will make everyone who goes near it think of something else they have to do."
"That's possible?" asked a surprised Mallister.
Hermione nodded.
Torrhen's eyes narrowed. "Is it something similar to what you set up at Riverrun? What's holding the Kingslayer in the room?"
Hermione winced. "Kind of. I have Ser Jaime under a blood ward that used Robb's blood. Only Robb can enter or exit the room when he's in the castle, but I had to change it once he left so that Ser Jaime could still be fed. I ended up using some of Robb's blood in a few medallions that he gave to his mother and Maester Vyman, as well as the guards who bring him his food. Only those with the medallions can go in and out."
Hermione glanced around the room, and realized that, for the most part, the men around her were looking like they understood what she said, but in all truth, it was probably like she was speaking High Valyrian to them.
She sighed, casting her eyes on the Tully heir. He needed confidence and experience, so... "Edmure? What do you think about positioning the men near Stone Mill?"
The reason why Robb didn't continue further from Oxcross to Casterly Rock, despite it being ridiculously close, was because he wanted to scare Tywin Lannister. Wanted him to know that he could get that close to his precious home - could stroll right up and take what he wanted at any time. He was the Young Wolf - the King in the North - and he could conquer.
Except he didn't want to; conquer, that was.
So Robb moved the army north, towards Ashemark in the mountains, overtaking the castle easily and taking the quarry as well as the gold mines. Wars were won with gold, as Tywin Lannister had taught Westeros.
He turned his attention to the coast, the castles and keeps that were often at war with Theon's kin - the Greyjoys - as the Pike and Iron Islands just off the west coast. While he sent smaller forces to take Nunn's Deep, Pendric Hills and what was left of Castamere, the majority of his force would turn their eyes to the Crag, which in turn would be facing toward the sea for the next attack, never expecting one from the land.
He sat atop his horse, Grey Wind now almost on par with the large equine, at his right. Behind him on their own horses were his great-uncle, his kingsguard of Daryn, Eddard, Dacey, and several other Lords. They were as camouflaged as possible, in the surrounding woods of the ruinous Crag - a holdfast that was more broken rock and rotted wood than grandeur, but they held Gawen Westerling captive since the same time of Kingslayer - and behind the large boulders that had, hundreds of years ago, rolled down the mountainside.
They were hidden by the elongating shadows as the sun dipped into the far ocean, dusk falling quickly as the nights grew longer. They were not about to light any torches, either, so Robb took advantage of the failing light to finish his correspondence.
"News from Riverrun is that Lady Catelyn has returned safely," read Olyvar Frey to the quiet king and his men. "However Renly Baratheon is dead."
There was some shifting as Robb turned in his saddle, the leather creaking as he did so, to look at his squire. "How?"
Olyvar squinted in the dusk. "Lady Catelyn doesn't write how, Your Grace - other than she returned with a… Lady Brienne? Brienne of Tarth?"
Behind, Karstark snorted. Maege glared hotly at him. "Something to say, Karstark?"
"Nothing, Lady Mormont," the burly man replied, smothering the mirth on his face. "I don't think you would find anything untoward of women in armour. Perhaps Lady Brienne has kin within the she-bears of Bear Island?"
"Don't you wish," muttered Dacey under her breath. At her other side, in response, Eddard Karstark shifted his horse closer to Daryn Hornwood.
Robb stifled a sigh. "Anything else? With Renly dead, Stannis will surely make for King's Landing next, after consolidating his power and taking some of Renly's men."
"Most likely," agreed Bolton quietly, just as Olyvar continued, "Lord Umber and Lord Glover are both ready to attack Castamere and Pendric Hill at dusk; and Lord Manderly and Lord Forrester are within a few hours' reach of Nunn's Deep."
"Good," said Robb, feeling a mix of pleasure and anticipation begin to thrum through his veins as he turned his eyes back towards the glittering sea, just visible and peeking through a mix of foliage and turrets of the Crag ahead of them.
"Oh!" said Olyvar, as new writing appeared on the parchment, just as the last remnants of the sun dipped into the ocean.
When the young squire failed to say anything else, Robb turned again to face him, as did Bolton, Maege, and Karstark. The Frey teen's face was pale, with a tint of green, although that was hard to make out in the dark.
"Olyvar?" asked Robb, his stomach fluttering. The anticipation and pleasure he felt was leeching out into something else.
The skinny squire's dark eyes were wide, enough so that Robb could see the whites as the sun began its descent into the ocean.
"Speak, boy!" ordered Karstark roughly.
"M-My Lord," stuttered Olyvar, his eyes moving to remain on the parchment, his tongue thick as he began to read, "M-Maester Vyman writes t-that ravens have c-come from the W-White Harbour, Barrowtown, and the D-Dreadfort. W-Winterfell has been s-seized by Theon G-Greyjoy and an Ironborn army."
Robb turned fully in his saddle, incredulity building as Olyvar spoke. His stomach roiled. "What?"
"S-Ser Roderick C-Cassell is d-dead…"
"This cannot be true," muttered Robb, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, a sudden sweat breaking out along his spine despite an increasing chill. "Why? Why would Theon…"
From just behind Olyvar, Karstark's face turned down into a deep scowl. "Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores."
Robb turned back to Olyvar quickly, clenching tight on the reins until his knuckles turned white. At his side, Grey Wind began to shift. Robb's voice nearly cracked as he spoke, in desperation, "My brothers?"
Olyvar looked back at the parchment. "Nothing, Your Gace."
The Blackfish spat on the ground to the side of his horse. "Never trust a Greyjoy!"
"I must go north at once," whispered Robb, eyes unseeing of the Crag ahead, thinking only of Bran and Rickon. His body was shivering, and all the thoughts and plans he had for attacking the Crag meant nothing if he was without his family - without a home.
What else would be taken from me before this war is over? he thought darkly.
Bolton moved his horse forward and leaned towards his King, aborting a move to reach forwards and shake the man. "There's still a war to win, Your Grace!"
Robb turned his eyes on his banner man, face drawn. "How can I call myself 'King' if I can't hold my own castle? How can I ask men to follow me if…"
Bolton made a strange sound in his throat. For a man who never raised his weak and raspy voice, it sounded similar to a hiss. "You are a king! And that means you don't have to do everything yourself."
"Bolton's right," agreed the Blackfish in a quiet voice, moving his own horse closer to Robb, who turned his head to face his great-uncle. "Theon holds the castle with a skeleton crew. We can send word to many remaining men in the North; they can raise a few hundred men and retake Winterfell before the new moon."
Karstark nodded. "We have the Lannisters on the run; if you march all the way back north now, you lose what you gained." He paused, and then said: "We can return to Riverrun shortly after taking the Crag, Your Grace. The Lady Hermione is there, and perhaps she can do something…?"
At her name, Robb felt his body sag. Hermione, yes - he thought, with a tiny nod. Perhaps she will have an idea of what to do…
"Who is still in the north?" asked Robb, his voice low but gaining in confidence.
"Lady Barbrey Dustin remains," said Karstark, just as Bolton said, "And my son and his men at the Dreadfort."
Robb slowly nodded. "Tell your son and Lady Dustin that Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount. As for Theon...I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why, and then I will take his head myself!"
He grit his teeth and turned back to the front, to the flickering torches that beckoned where the Crag lay surrounded by crofter's huts and outlying buildings. "As for the Crag - we will take it, as well as Nunn's Deep, Pendric Hill, and Castamere tonight! And we will let not only Tywin Lannister know what the North is capable of, but we will send a message to Balon Greyjoy as well: Winter is Coming! And it's coming for them!"
Grey Wind threw back his head and howled, long and loudly through the still night. It was the signal they were waiting for: Robb, never one to lead from the rear, charged forward with his Kingsguard at his side and his trusted Lords and Lady, their horse's hooves kicking up dirt and stones as they rushed down the forested incline until they reached level ground.
There was no warning from the castle; the men had thought with Robb's attack of Oxcross and Ashemark that he would turn his attention to Castamere or the Golden Tooth instead. As such, there were no sentries as they approached the small town outside the Crag's walls. While Mormont, Karstark, and Bolton men began a battering ram to open the doors to the Crag, Smalljon Umber and Walder Frey crept around the sides of the castle, closer to the north and south beaches, and began to scale the sides of the external walls.
And then they were in, the rotted wooden doors that led into the Crag breaking and splintering through the force of the ram.
For Robb, although it wasn't his first, nor would it be his last, battle, he felt like he experienced it in snippets.
His blood, already boiling from the thought of Theon's betrayal, meant his temper was barely in check. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, echoing loudly in his ears to the point he barely heard the screams and shouts of those around him.
At his side, Grey Wind leapt and attacked with a ferocity that Robb had never seen. His mouth salivated and there was a strange, phantom taste of iron - blood? - in his mouth but he hadn't bit his tongue, cheek or lip, nor had he been bashed in the face.
The taste distracted him, and when one second he was on the back of his horse, the next the wind was knocked out of him and he was on his knees, rolling to his feet in his armour on the dirt entrance to the Crag. Pushing past him were his soldiers, although he spotted Daryn - bare-headed as he usually went - slice past a Westerling guard in tan-beige with a white trim tunic who was aiming a bow and arrow at Robb.
He, in turn, raised his sword to his friend in salute, and threw himself forward. Meeting the first Westerling soldier, he hit him with harsh slash that cut through his neck. Robb didn't stop, anger at Theon manifesting itself in his attack. His mind was numb and his feet moved without guidance, just as his arm fell into a familiar pattern: slash, parry, thrust, parry, block, stab.
Around him fell bloodstained bodies, just as the iron-blood taste in his mouth grew as Grey Wind tasted more and more human flesh. A man in armour roared and raced towards Robb, who snarled in return and raised his broadsword with both arms, his fingers flexing on the hilt. He planted his foot and pushed forward, his sword ready to come down with a quick slash -
Pain erupted in Robb's shoulder and the force of something hitting him sent him skittering and landing heavily on his back, the air rushing out of him as his sword fell from his grip and clattered loudly in the dirt next to him.
Black spots danced in his vision and the roar in his ears - one he thought was the echo of his heart - grew louder.
Somewhere, distantly, Robb heard someone shout, "YOUR GRACE!"
He turned his head to his left side, eyes wide. Protruding from the small, unarmed place between his shoulder pad and chest plate, was an arrow.
Oh, he thought, and then his eyes fluttered shut.
AN (Jan 19 edit): Cleaning up continuity errors on my part.
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