The northern king looked out over his camp, feeling the weight of the thousands of deaths on his shoulders. The battle had been all but one. The Lannister center was almost broken, his flanks were holding, his archers were killing men by the dozens. It was all going perfectly. Tywin's center would have been broken and the lannisters would have retreated.
Then the fucking Dornish showed up.
Thousands of riders bearing the pierced sun of House Martell cutting down Robb's men like an unstoppable wave. All Robb could do was watch, knowing that he couldn't do anything to save his men but flee the field.
The death toll was burned into his brain. Twenty-five thousand men. Half of his stormlander force and three-fourths of the reachmen under Garlan. More than half of his total force had been wiped away like snow in the sun. All he had left now was roughly sixteen thousand men.
There were also the deaths of his friends. Loras had been injured, nearly killed in the dornish charge. He had been saved when Garlan had hauled him out of his saddle when the withdrawal had been issued. Then there was Perwyn, whose body had been brought back by Lord Caron's cavalry. He had died helping hold back the Mountain's raiders as the dornish closed in.
"Your grace?" Garlan asked, walking up to Robb. "Is all well?"
Robb wanted to laugh. "Fine, Garlan." He answered curtly.
Thankfully, Garlan had made it out of the battle relatively unscathed. He had a few bruises and cuts but still looked like he could swing his swords without too much trouble. Robb had let out a huge sigh of relief when he had seen him after the battle. He wasn't sure how he would face Margaery again if both of her brothers had been injured.
Garlan took Robb's clipped tone without complaint. "Your council is ready for you."
Robb nodded and walked towards the command tent that had been set up on the top of the hill. High Heart was a natural defensive position. The slope of the leading into the flat ground that made it so that no enemy force could approach unseen. Robb's army was camped on the west side of the hill, ironically facing the Westerlands where Robb's allies were. The command tent along with the tents of Robb's commanders had been set up within the circle of weirwood stumps.
When Robb walked into the tent, all his commanders looked at him. They were like Garlan; bruised and scraped but still alive.
"My lords," Robb said, trying not to let his sadness and frustration show. "Do we know what Tywin lost?"
"We are still unsure, your grace." Lord Caron answered. "Most of his infantry should be gone, but now that he had dornish allies, the losses seem little now."
Robb nodded. "Unfortunately. Do we know how in the blazes the man managed to convince the dornish to fight for him?"
For a moment, no one spoke, just looking at each other. It was clear to Robb that his commanders hadn't come to a clear conclusion of how the Lannisters and Martells had joined forces.
"Garlan?" Robb asked.
The Tyrell knight shook his head. "We have no idea, your grace." He answered honestly. "The idea seems so far fetched…."
"Obviously not to Tywin." Robb snapped, taking a breath to calm himself. He continued in a more peaceful tone. "Joffrey is a sadistic cunt, that has to be a clear fact by now, but there is still Tommen and Myrcella."
Ser Donnel nodded. "Prince Doran has two sons. Perhaps the girl was offered to one of them?"
Robb scowled. "So it would seem."
Ser Donnel shifted in his seat. "Sire, are we going to retreat to Riverrun?"
Robb shook his head. "No." He said flatly.
Lord Caron looked around the room. Besides Lord Forrester, he was the oldest and most experienced commander in the room.
"Your grace," he said, "we have other men in the field. If we call on Lord Tarly and Ser Brynden, we can still beat…."
"No," Robb said again. "We will not run from Tywin, not again. A rider has already been sent to Ser Brynden and he has roughly ten thousand men with him."
"Will that be enough?" Lucas Blackwood asked.
"It'll have to be," Robb answered grimly. "My lords, we can not run from Tywin. We can not allow him to gain the upper hand on us."
"What are your orders?" Garlan asked, crossing his arms. He looked like the only man willing to go along with whatever Robb was about to say.
"We dig in here," Robb said. "Have the archers make platforms on the hill. We'll have the men dig trenches and prepare stakes. If Tywin wants to take us down, we'll give him one damn good fight."
Line Break
"Your grace?" Garlan asked, staying behind as the other commanders left.
"Garlan."
"The battle wasn't your fault," Garlan said, leaning forward in his seat. "We didn't know that they would have allies."
Robb shook his head, gazing down at the scarred and rough tabletop. "Garlan, who is commanding this army?"
"Robb…"
"Who, Garlan?" Robb asked again, cutting off his good-brother.
"It wasn't your fault…."
"It's all my fault." Robb snapped. "Twenty-five thousand fucking men are dead because of me!"
"How were any of us to know that the Lannisters and Martells had allied?" Garlan argued. "You can't blame yourself for that."
"Then who's to blame?" Robb asked, glaring at the reachman. "Tell me Garlan. Who?"
"No one, Robb," Garlan said easily. "It was just bad luck."
Robb shook his head, straightening up. "I can not take the glory of a victory and then not take the blame for a defeat. That's now any of this works and you know it."
Garlan sighed and leaned back in his chair, gazing at the young monarch. "Robb, you saved thousands of lives by ordering a retreat. A lot of men are alive because of you."
"And twenty-five thousand are dead because I didn't know my opponent." Robb shot back.
"If you let their deaths get to you, you'll lose even more men," Garlan said, his tone a lot harsher. "People die in war, mistakes are made, we will not win every battle. You need to understand that and move forward."
Robb glared at the knight, who held his king's gaze unflinchingly. The two men glared at each other for a few moments before Robb grabbed his crown and threw it at the table.
"Fine." He said. "Fine."
Garlan nodded firmly. "Good."
The two men sat in silence as the tension left the tent. Robb poured himself a glass of wine, downing it in one gulp as Garlan retrieved the bronze and iron crown, placing it in front of Robb's seat. There was a slight dent in the bronze circlet from where it hit the table.
"I'll get this fixed." He said, walking out of the tent.
"Garlan, how's Loras?" Robb asked before the man was gone.
Garlan grimaced. "He took a beating, but he should live." He answered. "Riverrun is a much better place for him to recover than here."
When Robb's force had reunited at High Heart, he had sent the worst of the wounded and the dead nobles back to Riverrun. The field maesters that traveled with Robb's army were currently working their way through the men at the bottom of the hill.
"Hopefully we will see him again," Robb said.
Garlan nodded. "I plan to, your grace."
Line Break
Robb found himself once again standing on the edge of the hill overlooking his army. Greywind laid next to him, tired after a full day of hunting in the woods around the hill. Robb's talk with Garlan earlier had been helpful, but the young monarch couldn't help but feel the deaths of his men on his shoulders. It was simply how he was raised. Every decision was going to be put on his shoulders, just as it had with his father when he was Lord of Winterfell.
"Your grace?" Someone asked.
Robb turned to find Dacey and Smalljon behind him. The two northerners always seemed to be next to each other, but that was more likely due to the fact that they were the only northerners who remained in Robb's battle guard. The rest went north to reclaim their homes with Jon.
"Smalljon," Robb said, greeting them. "Dacey."
"You look like shit." Smalljon commented, taking a swig of a wineskin. He held it out to Robb. "here."
Robb shrugged and took a drink before handing it back to the other man. Robb usually had watered wine, but the wineskin held unwatered wine and it left a burning, sour taste in Robb's mouth.
"Is all well?" Dacey asked.
Robb gave them a grim smile. "You are not the first person to ask me that today." He said. "I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar." Dacey said, crossing her arms. "It's the battle, isn't it."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Am I that easy to read?"
"You haven't developed your father's stone face yet." Smalljon joked. "A few more years and battles might get you there."
Robb allowed a small smile to show on his face. It wasn't much, but it was the closest thing to a smile he's had on his face since the night before the battle when he and other members of his guard had sat around a fire and drank.
"I hear we're not moving on to Riverrun." Dacey said.
Robb nodded. "We can't run."
"Good." Smalljon replied. "I would have smacked you if you had ordered us to retreat to Riverrun."
"You'd smack your king?" Robb asked.
"If I had to." The big man replied easily.
Robb chuckled. "Aye, and I'd probably deserve it too."
The three stood in silence for a moment, feeling no need to talk or make conversation, simply being in each other's company. It was the kind of silence that developed naturally.
"Do you think this will be our final fight?" Dacey asked quietly.
Robb was about to shake his head, then stopped. He looked the heiress of Bear Island in her eye, not hiding what his true feelings were.
"I'm not sure." Robb admitted. "If it is, I'm going down swinging."
"You have your will set?" Smalljon asked in the same quiet tone they were all speaking in.
Robb nodded. "Margaery will become queen and Jon shall be my heir until the babe is born." He answered. "I sent a rider to Riverrun with the wounded and dead with a message for Margaery. It legitimizes Jon."
"Will Margaery accept that?" Dacey asked.
Robb nodded again. "Both Margaery and Jon will accept my wishes, I have no doubt. I should have legitimized Jon earlier. I've always wanted him to be a Stark. I wanted to see his face when he learned about it."
"Why didn't you make him one earlier?" Smalljon asked.
Robb shrugged. "The timing never seemed right. I had every belief that we would win and he would be by my side when we took King's Landing and avenged our father."
"Better late than never." Dacey grunted. "You best get your sleep, your grace. We have a lion to prepare for."