CHAPTER 17 | THE KING

ROBB held a large gathering in the woods next to their camp. Lanterns were lit all around them, creating a dim atmosphere. The Northern lords sat at their assigned seats, each holding a tall glass of beer in celebration. A few banner men stood to the side as well. Freya was content in sitting beside her brother, chugging some of their free grog to forget this day ever happened.

A debate was happening before them. One of the famous Northern lords stood, pacing as he announced, "The proper course is clear: pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his."

Since learning of Ned's death, they all had to decide on a course of action. Planning the future was imminent when there was no legitimate lord in Winterfell. Robb shook his head as he shouted back, "Renly is not the King!"

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord! He put your father to death!"

Robb lifted his head. "That doesn't make Renly King."

Freya looked to Catelyn sitting next to Robb, before her eyes rested on the boy in question. Their gazes connected: hers full of confusion and his laced with anger.

"He's Robert's youngest brother," Robb continued. "If Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can't be King before Stannis."

Theon nodded as the Northern lord argued. "Do you mean to declare us for Stannis?"

Another lord shouted, "Renly is not right!"

The Greyjoy siblings raised their glasses to that statement as Lord Umber tried to settle the chaos. "My Lords," he said, "Here is what I say to these two Kings –" Greatjon hocked up spit onto the ground. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong!"

The crowd laughed heartily, even Robb.

"Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to, and now the Dragons are dead!" Greatjon unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Robb. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to ... the King in the North!"

Robb paused as he watched Lord Umber kneel before him. Theon glanced at his sister's shocked face, and then watched as her jug of ale slipped from her fingers and onto the dirt.

Another Northern lord rose from his seat. "I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle, and their Iron Chair too." He, too, pulled out his sword. "The King in the North!"

Freya's eyes went wide when Theon stood up with a grin. "Am I your brother, now and always?" He asked Robb.

"Now and always," Robb replied.

Theon lifted he sword and kneeled in the ground before his friend. Freya felt like yanking him upward. "My sword is yours, in victory and defeat from this day, until my last day."

Robb Stark stood taller than any man then. All the lords rose, each shouting the phrase at the top of their lungs, "THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Their voices could be heard over the howling winds, and they were like echoes in the dead of night. Robb looked to his mother, who smiled softly. Robb then stared at his now subjects, grinning proudly at his achievement.

It was at this time that he then noticed Freya Grejoy, staring at him dumfounded, and still sitting in her chair. She dared not make a move; she dared not make a scene. Robb did not need her declaration, he realized, because what he had would always be enough, and Freya was not.

•••

Freya found Catelyn Stark later on in the night, walking away from where they were keeping their hostage, Jaime Lannister. They had him strapped to a pillar outside the encampment, a group of guards hurdled around him. No one had spoken to the Kingslayer in days, except for Lady Catelyn, apparently. Freya was reeling from all of today's events, and truly, the thing she wanted to do most was hurt someone's feelings.

She smiled softly to Catelyn as they passed. The elder woman was clearly distraught, and Freya dared not to speak with her. She needed time to heal, but she did realize that Catelyn was treating her more differently than usual.

Freya approached Jaime Lannister squirming against the pillar, a fresh cut gushing blood down his forehead. She lifted her head at him and put her hands on her hips. "Well, Lannister," she muttered, "it's different seeing you held against anyone's will but your sister's."

"Lady Freya," he said, his smirk never fading. She guessed it was forever imprinted on his mouth. "What a pleasant surprise. I fear I'm in a difficult situation here."

"You fear, Ser?" She chuckled, kneeling beside him.

Jaime sighed, looking to her war-torn face and scratches that dotted her skin from the day prior. "I heard your army was sent into the dust yesterday. During the Battle at Green Fork."

"And yet, I'm still here." She grinned wide. "I tend not to fear death, but you, Lannister – your army seems to have left you in the dust."

"My father will come for me. Just you wait."

Freya tapped her chin, pretending to ponder on an issue. "Do you keep telling yourself that to help you feel better about your imprisonment?"

Jaime didn't respond. He couldn't think of any words to say to her question.

Freya stood, kicking his knee with her heel. Jaime winced. "Look who's the hostage now."

•••

"You requested to see me."

Freya's words came out in a harsh manner as she entered Robb Stark's tent. Lord Umber had told her of this news and led her towards the desired tent in question. Freya had just left Jaime Lannister's post, and was feeling quite confident in herself at the moment. She guessed Robb was feeling the same, what with his newest achievement that still left her dumbfounded.

"Yes," he muttered, sitting down at one end of his table. "Please, sit."

Freya clasped her hands in front of her, smirking. "I'd rather not." There was an odd stance between them then. Robb, sitting at the head of the table a few feet from her, and Freya, standing tall above him when she was indeed below him in class. Though, he would never forget that she would always be older than him.

"Freya," he laid his hand out, gesturing for her to sit.

For a moment, Freya was surprised that he called her by her first name that she did do as asked. She slowly sat down in the chair at the other end of the long table. A glass of ale sat in his hand, and Robb twirled it around. He looked up at her. "Would you like some?"

"Can we not stall with introductions?" Freya sneered. "Why am I here?"

Robb sighed, pouring more ale for himself. The candle lights around him only highlighted half of his face. "I apologize for the way I acted earlier. You did well at the Battle of Green Fork, Greyjoy. The outcome was exactly how I planned it." He took a long sip of his ale. "But, I do not think you are meant to be my co-leader in battle. That title is much more meant for Theon."

Freya furrowed her brow. "I happen to believe that I have just the same amount of skill – if not, more – than my brother." She laid one hand on the table. "I was trained longer than him."

"I do not wish for you to take this personally –"

"I do take it personally," Freya interrupted.

Robb exhaled. "I did not mean it in the way that you think."

"You mean in the 'women can't do anything' way?"

"Yes," he gave her a hard look. He stared at her lips, which were quivering with rage. "If I may be so bold, you are not meant to lead. I can't have an ex-bastard as my co-leader."

Freya narrowed her eyes, staring at him for a good, long moment. "Oh, my fucking god," she seethed, standing up. Freya felt the veins pop out in her forehead as she kicked her chair to the side. "Your own goddamn brother is a bastard, and I know you would show him the courtesy of being your co-leader if he was here! This isn't just about that or your manly pride. You're still stuck up your own ass because you dislike me. That isn't fucking fair, Stark, and you know it."

"It's not that, Greyjoy –"

"YES, IT IS!" She shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Admit it. Don't be a coward."

Robb then stood, malice laced in his tone, "Maybe we're both just being childish, but there is nothing you can do about it. I am the King."

Freya laughed loudly. "You're not the King, Stark. You're a King." She had to hold a hand to her mouth to halt her laughter. "And that means nothing. You're just a coward who pisses shit when he hates someone. We're not fucking children anymore. Get over it."

Robb chest heaved slightly as he walked forward to Freya, swishing the ale around in his glass. He took a long gulp, finishing the ale off, and stared down at the smaller female. Anger glazed in his eyes. "You do not get to talk to me like that," he said, before his voice began to boom. "I AM THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Freya snatched the glass from his fingertips and threw it onto the ground, shattering the object fully. "YOU ARE NO KING OF MINE!"

Their chests were touching. Air exhaled from both their nostrils. Both were ready to throw up their fists, but didn't. Freya closed her eyes before spitting on the ground and walking out of the tent. She wished to not speak to Robb Stark for a long time.

END OF BOOK I