The young king looked over the battle map, envisioning how the battle will go tomorrow. They were a mile from Harrenhal and had found Tywin's host spread out to the east of the great fortress on the Kingsroad. They were a safe distance from the God's Eye, just as Robb expected they would. From the looks of it, they intended to meet Robb's host head-on, with the Antlers being their fall back plan.
Robb's plan had been simple. Garlan and Loras would be on the left flank with the majority of the heavy cavalry. Their only purpose was to turn Tywin's flank and force the lannister host towards the lake. Lord Caron would be on Robb's right flank. His job, if possible, was to help turn the Lannister host as well by giving up land. Essentially, Robb's plan was to have the two armies turn like a wheel. Robb would start with his back to the north, and would hopefully have the battle end with his back to the east as his army forces the enemy into the lake.
Ser Donnel would control the front and Lord Wylde would control the vanguard. Finally, Lord Estermont would have command of the reserves. Lucas Blackwood, one of the few riverlanders still left with Robb, had command of the archers.
The young king hoped that his men would be enough to defeat the lannister host. They had been reinforced by a host from the crownlands, but Robb hoped that the men of the Stormlands and Reach would account for themselves better than the crownlanders would.
"Your grace?" Dacey Mormont asked, poking her head into the tent.
Robb turned, surprised to see the warrior woman. She and Smalljon usually liked to drink before a battle. "Yes, Dacey?"
She jerked her head outside. "Come have a drink with us."
Robb looked back at the battle map before shrugging and following his friend outside, where more of his battle guard were sitting around a fire, talking quietly and drinking. There was Garlan, Robar Royce, Smalljon, and Brienne. The heir to Last Hearth was teaching the second son of Mace Tyrell how to quaff, which the reachman was having little success with, but it made Smalljon happy.
They all nodded as Robb joined the group, accepting a tankard from Smalljon. "Thank you."
"Do you think we will win tomorrow, your grace?" Robar asked curiously.
Robb nodded slowly. "I think if we can execute the plan of forcing Tywin into the lake, then yes. If not, then it'll be a long day of fighting."
"Then it's on to King's Landing and that royal bastard Joffrey." Smalljon rumbled. "Cowardly cunt."
"Do you mean to take the Iron Throne when we take the Capitol?" Robar asked.
The group went silent after the vale knight asked his question, looking at their king. The northerners hadn't considered the possibility that their king would stay in the south, but obviously, the southern knights thought he might.
Robb shook his head. "I haven't decided yet," Robb answered, gazing evenly at the valeman. "But I may end up doing so."
"What about the North?" Dacey asked.
Robb pursed his lips. "I have full faith Jon can retake the North," he answered. "I'm not sure what might happen, but if need be, my mother or Jon will become regent of the region. If my brothers somehow survived the fire, then they shall take over as Lord of Winterfell when they are old enough. If not, then I will legitimize Jon and he will take over as Lord of Winterfell. Either way, House Stark will rule the North and Winterfell."
"First we must deal with Tywin," Brienne said abruptly, going slightly red as she realized that she might have just spoken over the king.
Robb smiled grimly, nodding to her. "Indeed. We must first deal with Tywin. Brienne, have you ever thought about visiting Bear Island?"
The large warrior-woman shook her head. "No, your grace," she answered quietly.
"You should. The women of the island are quite impressive." Robb said, nudging Dacey slightly, who had a proud look on her face. "They all learn how to fight. I must apologize for not introducing you to Lady Maege when I had the chance at Riverrun."
Brienne looked between Robb and Dacey. "It would be my honor to visit Bear Island," she answered before looking down at her boots.
The woman was a curious case to Robb. She was ferocious with a sword and seemed to be extremely loyal to whoever held her loyalty. But she seemed hesitant for whatever reason. Robb wasn't sure why and hoped that she would soon grow out of it. She could be a very capable captain of his, just as Dacey and Smalljon had become.
"How did you become a warrior, my lady?" Garlan asked curiously.
Brienne looked up at the knight. "My father had a few other children, a son and two daughters, before he had me, but all died young. When I was born, I was always bigger than other children and wanted to fight from an early age. After I came back one day with more than a few bruises, my father decided that I should learn properly how to fight." she patted the hilt of her sword. "I began my training the next day."
"A wise decision on your father's part." Garlan complimented.
"Indeed." Robar agreed. "Your duel with Ser Loras was quite impressive."
Brienne went red in the face again from all of the praise. Obviously, she was not used to others applauding her skill. She nodded to the two men. "You are kind, good sirs," she said awkwardly.
The group came to a companionable silence as they all drank and looked into the fire, enjoying each other's company the night before the battle. They were not stupid. There was every chance that any one of them could die tomorrow. But tonight they would spend in each other's company.
"Your grace, what was your father like?" Garlan asked.
"Lord Stark?" Robar asked. "My father always said that he was one of the greatest men that he's ever met. Honorable, fiercely loyal to friends, and simply a great man."
"Lord Stark was beloved in the North," Dacey added. "He always put his people and bannermen first, looking out for their needs. There are few who could rule the North as he did."
"He's also a great warrior," Smalljon said, his voice a little slurred from drinking. "My father always said that Lord Stark was one of the deadliest men that Westeros never knew about."
"Didn't he face three kingsguard when he went looking for his sister after Robert's Rebellion?" Robar asked. "My father said he went south after lifting the siege of Storm's End."
Robb nodded. "He did," he said quietly. "He and six companions versus Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower, and Arthur Dayne."
"He lived, so he must have beaten one of them," Robar commented. "Say what you will about the Mad King, but none can see he didn't have a truly impressive Seven. Two of the arguably best to ever live in Selmy and Dayne. It's a shame their talent was wasted on a mad man."
"What did Lord Stark think of the south?" Garlan asked suddenly, looking over at his good brother.
Robb pursed his lips. "My father wasn't fond of the south," he answered honestly. "He was fine in the Vale, where he felt a kinship with the men and women there, but for other places, he did not prefer to exchange flowery words that had no meaning. He said what needed to be said and was a man of action above all things." Robb smile slightly. "He once told my mother that words don't keep you warm in the winter."
Garlan nodded. "Aye, they probably don't." he agreed. "The Reach has always been full of 'flowery words', as your father put it. The singers say that chivalry was born in the Reach, but I think that's just more talk."
Robb patted the man on the back. "I'm not so sure. Lord Tarly certainly isn't much of a talker."
Garlan chuckled. "Randyll Tarly is granite made flesh." he joked. "But I mean what I say. Words have always been as good as currency in the south, especially the Reach. Perhaps a new king on the throne may change that. One that has the courage that says what needs to be said. Like his father before him."
Dacey laughed. "Any Stark can take a group of criminals and turn them into the most good-hearted people in Westeros. I'd stake my life on that. Being around good people brings out the good in others."
"Wise words, my lady," Robar said.
Robb looked around at his friends. For a time, it didn't feel like they were at war at all, but a group of friends simply sitting around a fire and talking. It was a surreal moment that, right before the most dangerous battle that many of them had ever faced, they were simply sitting and talking.
The young king got up, finishing off the last of his ale. "You should all find your beds," he said. "We'll need our strength for tomorrow when we finally face the Old Lion."
The others all nodded and finished off their tankards, save for Smalljon, who polished off his ale, then poured himself another and drank that too. One by one, they all walked away to find their beds. Smalljon and Dacey were the last to leave, clasping arms with their king, their northern king, before walking off.
Robb walked back into his tent, finding the letter than he had set off to the side. He unrolled it, re-reading the words he had read more than a dozen times, still not believing what he was reading.
My Love,
I have spoken with the maester here in Riverrun. I am with child.
Come back alive, for me and our child.
All my love,
Margaery