Tywin Lannister had to die.
As Roose Bolton turned to leave, that single thought became crystal clear in his mind.
And Robb Stark...
If possible, Balon Greyjoy should remain here as well.
The Leech Lord's murderous intent grew stronger with every step.
---
Watching Roose depart, Tywin Lannister's expression turned grim.
His gaze drifted toward the unconscious Robb Stark, who hung bound to the trunk of a massive oak.
Although Tywin had been in hiding, he hadn't been cut off from the outside world. News of the war in the Reach—and of the dragons once again unleashing rivers of fire—had reached him nearly two months earlier.
What he hadn't expected was that the consequences of those events had already spread all the way to the North.
Roose Bolton, who had originally intended to use him, had clearly chosen to withdraw.
Rather than capturing Tywin in Deepwood Motte, he had allowed the lion to walk free while suddenly betraying Robb Stark instead.
Not only had Roose delivered the heir of House Stark into Balon Greyjoy's hands, but he had also buried more than two hundred Stark cavalrymen in the forests surrounding Deepwood Motte.
It was almost as though he had openly invited them to kill Robb.
More accurately...
He had handed them the hilt of the sword and carefully pointed its blade toward its target.
It wasn't an especially sophisticated scheme, but Roose understood one thing perfectly—
Both Tywin and Balon needed Robb Stark alive.
The calculating Lord of the Dreadfort had accurately grasped the weaknesses of human nature.
---
Countless thoughts raced through Tywin's mind as he carefully considered his next move.
Balon Greyjoy, meanwhile, remained completely unaware of the schemes surrounding him.
Or perhaps...
Even if he knew, he simply wouldn't care.
"Hmph."
"They're all a bunch of cowards."
He snorted contemptuously before turning toward Robb.
"Bring him down."
"Tell the army to prepare."
"We'll seize Deepwood Motte while the opportunity is still ours."
"And afterward..."
"We march directly on Winterfell."
The negotiations had ended without success.
No one had reached an agreement, and no one had received the share they wanted.
Balon left with an ugly expression.
After receiving his orders, Asha Greyjoy nodded and immediately went to carry them out.
Before long, thousands of Ironborn gathered within the forest and marched toward nearby Deepwood Motte.
Inside the castle, Lord Rickard Karstark and the others were still organizing supplies.
None of them realized that a ravenous beast was already approaching, its bloodstained jaws ready to devour them.
---
The battle itself wasn't worth describing in detail.
The Ironborn won easily.
However, Balon failed to accomplish one of his objectives.
Although the Northmen were caught completely off guard, Rickard Karstark and several other commanders managed to escape.
They abandoned the castle they had only recently secured.
At the same time, they carried alarming news back across the North—
The Iron Islands had invaded.
And Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, had been captured by Balon Greyjoy.
Deepwood Motte, which Balon should have captured long ago, finally fell into his hands.
Since landing on the Stony Shore, he had deliberately delayed his advance.
Rather than rushing forward, he had quietly observed developments across the North while waiting for negotiations with Tywin to produce the outcome he desired.
Only after making his decision had he acted.
---
That night...
After finishing his strategic planning, Balon prepared to retire.
Just then, a servant entered.
"My lord."
"Lord Roose Bolton requests an audience."
Balon wasn't particularly surprised.
Instead, he laughed coldly.
"So..."
"The coward finally comes crawling back."
"Let him in."
"And keep everyone else away."
Once the servant departed, Roose Bolton entered the temporary command tent.
Balon sneered.
"I thought you'd lost your courage—and your tongue."
Roose ignored the mockery.
His pale eyes remained emotionless.
His thin lips tightened ever so slightly.
Balon's repeated insults irritated him.
But this wasn't the time to argue.
Suppressing his anger, he got straight to the point.
"If Tywin Lannister dies here..."
"Wouldn't that benefit both of us?"
Balon's expression changed slightly.
"You spent the entire day betraying House Stark."
"You handed Robb Stark to me yourself."
"You claimed it was all to save Tywin Lannister."
"And now..."
"You want to kill him?"
He stared directly at Roose.
"Lord Bolton..."
"You truly are an interesting man."
"So tell me."
"Why?"
Balon wanted to know exactly what Roose was planning.
He refused to believe a word without understanding the motive behind it.
Roose calmly pulled over a stool and sat opposite him.
His voice remained quiet and steady.
"Because..."
"Tywin Lannister is another gift I'm giving you."
"A gift?"
Balon laughed dismissively.
"What use is he?"
"A fool who destroyed himself."
"The only one I care about is Robb Stark."
From the moment Roose refused to divide the spoils with him, Balon had stopped trusting him completely.
They had never been allies.
Only temporary partners united by mutual interests.
Balon helped weaken House Stark and the northern lords.
Roose, in return, allowed the Ironborn to plunder half the North while Balon reclaimed his only surviving son, Theon.
Whatever Balon thought of Theon...
He remained his heir.
The blood of the Ironborn flowed through his veins.
He belonged to the Drowned God.
To the Old Way.
To paying the Iron Price.
As for Tywin Lannister...
He had merely served as the glue holding this fragile alliance together.
Nothing more.
Now...
Even that value had nearly disappeared.
---
Roose remained expressionless.
"Tywin's only remaining value..."
"Is the head on his shoulders."
"I simply want to remove it before anyone else does."
Balon burst into laughter.
"So..."
"You want to hide your betrayal?"
"You're afraid."
"Afraid of the Bastard King's revenge."
He shook his head in disgust.
"I hate talking to men like you."
"You hide behind pretty words."
"But underneath..."
"You're just another frightened coward."
Roose narrowed his eyes.
Still...
He said nothing.
Balon continued mercilessly.
"You're right about one thing."
"Tywin's head is all that's worth anything now."
"He hired the Faceless Men to assassinate Robert."
"And his assassin was foolish enough to reveal the truth after being captured."
"If you deliver Tywin's head..."
"You might earn forgiveness from the Bastard King."
"Very clever, Lord Bolton."
Balon stood.
The conversation was over.
"Go and take it yourself."
"The Ironborn don't beg for mercy."
From the day Roose refused to continue their cooperation, Balon had already considered their alliance finished.
He neither trusted nor feared the Lord of the Dreadfort.
Without shared interests...
Roose was simply another threat waiting to strike.
Giving Tywin back was his way of ending everything cleanly.
He had no intention of fighting Roose over a worthless old lion.
As they prepared to part ways, Balon couldn't resist one last mocking smile.
---
Roose slowly rose to his feet.
"If that's your decision..."
"I won't trouble you any longer."
"My men and I will depart tonight."
Hidden from Balon's sight, a cold glint flashed across Roose's pale eyes.
He smiled faintly.
Then turned and walked away.
This was the perfect opportunity to leave.
With Tywin Lannister in hand, returning home would be easy.
As for Robb Stark...
Roose quietly sneered.
He wouldn't live to see tomorrow's sunrise.
Hadn't Balon just asked why he hadn't killed him?
---
Deep within the Wolfswood...
Robb Stark remained tied to an enormous oak tree.
A bloody wound split his forehead.
Mud covered his clothes.
The cold northern air bit through his skin.
Although snow hadn't fallen today, winter's breath was already everywhere.
Silence filled the forest.
Then...
A warm, wet tongue gently licked his face and the wound on his forehead.
The sting of pain jolted him awake.
"Mmm..."
Robb slowly opened his eyes.
For several seconds, everything remained blurry.
Then his memories returned.
He instinctively struggled—
Only to discover that thick ropes tightly bound him to the tree.
Not far away, a campfire burned steadily.
It seemed someone intended to keep him alive.
Beside the fire lay two corpses.
One man's throat had been slashed open.
Blood still poured from the wound as his dying body twitched occasionally.
The second corpse looked even more horrifying.
Something had torn away the back of his neck.
His spine had been ripped apart.
Only a strip of flesh and his windpipe barely connected his head to his shoulders.
Standing beside the bodies...
Was Grey Wind.
The direwolf's once-white fur around its muzzle and neck had turned crimson with blood.
"Grey Wind..."
"So it was you."
A bitter smile crossed Robb's face.
The pounding pain in his head forced him to suck in a sharp breath.
"...Help me."
Barely able to speak, he glanced around before whispering the words.
Grey Wind immediately stepped forward, preparing to bite through the ropes.
Then suddenly...
The direwolf froze.
Its ears shot upright.
Its head snapped toward the darkness.
A low growl rumbled deep within its throat as it lowered its body into a defensive stance.
Robb immediately understood.
Someone was coming.
He looked toward the shadows.
A lone figure was silently approaching without carrying a torch.
"Hide."
Grey Wind understood instantly.
After giving Robb one last look, the direwolf slipped silently into the tall grass and disappeared.
Watching Grey Wind vanish, Robb lowered his head once more and pretended to remain unconscious.
But his attention stayed fixed on the approaching figure.
Several tense minutes passed.
Finally...
The stranger reached the campfire.
The first thing he noticed was the two dead guards lying beside it.
Firelight illuminated his face.
Though his head was now shaved clean, traces of blond hair were still visible.
His expression was filled with shock.
A dagger glinted coldly in his hand.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)