Theon Greyjoy's tone carried a hint of displeasure. He was still the same Theon—despite gaining those strange memories, deep down, he remained the "little kraken" constantly striving to prove himself.
Jon looked into Theon's sharp, wolfish gaze and, inexplicably, felt a flicker of unease—as if facing a predator. But he quickly steadied himself and explained,
"Sorry, Theon. I didn't mean to target you. Your plan really is brilliant—I could never have thought of it. It's just that we're too far from Harrenhal right now, and the Westerlands' army is vast. If they split their forces to invade the Riverlands, our plan might fall apart. And I've also heard…"
Jon's voice trailed off as his eyes flicked toward Robb, an expression of hesitation crossing his face. Robb frowned slightly, puzzled.
In truth, before Jon had set out, Brynden Tully—the legendary Hand of the King from the Targaryen era—had analyzed the North's situation for him in detail, along with possible complications they might face.
He had even broken down the personalities, strengths, and weaknesses of the key figures involved in this conflict. Of particular note was Edmure Tully, whom Brynden described as a pampered child, spoiled by his family, utterly unfit to shoulder the weight of House Tully's responsibilities.
Brynden had pointed out that historically, the Riverlands had always been a land ravaged by war—defenseless and exposed. As a man of Blackwood blood himself, he knew the region's flaws all too well. Given his familiarity with Edmure's temperament, he had bluntly concluded that the Riverlands would once again collapse early, turning the land into a scorched ruin.
Seeing Jon's hesitation, Greatjon Umber's heart sank—he seemed to sense something amiss. He barked out,
"If there's a problem, say it. Where'd you learn to hold your tongue like that? We're Northerners, not some scheming southerners!"
Jon flushed red, realizing he had unconsciously adopted the mannerisms he used when speaking to Maester Marq. He quickly adjusted his tone and stammered,
"I—I think the Riverlands won't be able to hold against the Lannister host. We should probably prepare a backup plan. Tywin Lannister has fought far more battles than all of us combined. He knows how vital Harrenhal is, and I believe that's his target.
"Of course, if we can seize Harrenhal, that would be ideal. But if not, we'll have to march south through the Twins into the Riverlands. My thought is this: when Tywin sends out his full host, we strike at the Golden Tooth, push into the Westerlands, and when they retreat, the Riverlords can harass their rear and supply lines. By the time they return west, we'll be entrenched in favorable terrain—then we can defeat them with ease.
"And… cough… I've also received word that beneath Casterly Rock, there's a tidal cave—a secret passage that leads straight into the castle itself. When the time comes, we could—"
Hearing the two of them trade plans and strategies, Robb's heart burned with excitement. For the first time, the road ahead seemed clear. He was still new to command—not yet the fearless, cunning "Young Wolf" he would become. But Jon and Theon were different—they had mentors to guide them. Robb had none.
Their confidence gave him courage, driving away the uncertainty that had haunted him since the beginning.
Three months later, after a forced march to the vicinity of the Twins, the Northern host met Lady Catelyn returning from the Vale. Unfortunately, she brought grim tidings: Lady Lysa of the Vale had decided to remain neutral, refusing to support the North's campaign.
Upon hearing this, Robb ordered the army to rest and await reinforcements—just as planned. The vanguard had marched ahead to gather intelligence within the Riverlands.
Three days later, in a war tent within the Northern camp, the lords of the North gathered around a long table strewn with maps and carved markers. Rickard Karstark spoke first.
"We've learned the Westerlands' army has split in two. One host, fifteen thousand strong, is led by the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister; the other, twenty thousand, marches under Tywin himself. The Kingslayer is besieging Riverrun, while the Old Lion has taken Harrenhal—and now he's moving toward us, likely hoping to crush us on the King's Road. Looks like our little kraken's plan won't work after all."
Greatjon Umber slammed a massive fist onto the table. "What's wrong with those Riverlanders? Did their women drain them dry? This war's a disgrace! We're suffering for their weakness, damn it—"
He caught sight of Lady Catelyn's cold expression and quickly bit off the curse, seething as his blow sent the game pieces scattering across the map.
Jon nudged Robb under the table, gesturing toward Catelyn. Robb understood, rose to his feet, and addressed the room.
"My lords! Since that's the case, we'll have to change our plan. Marching south to Harrenhal isn't realistic. Even if we defeat Tywin, we won't have the strength to threaten King's Landing. Our best move is to relieve Riverrun. Mother, you know House Frey better than any of us. They're my uncle's bannermen, aren't they? Can we persuade them to let us cross?"
Catelyn's expression softened—she knew her son was trying to shield her.
"My father always called them 'the Late Freys.' During the last war, they delayed answering House Tully's call as long as possible, waiting to see who would win before committing their 'invincible' army. I doubt they'll help us unless they see a greater profit."
Greatjon roared, "Then to hell with them! We'll just take the Twins by force! We've got twenty thousand men—are we supposed to fear the Freys?"
Jon quickly intervened, "Lord Umber, please—don't act rashly. They haven't declared against us. If we attack, the Riverlords might turn on us, and if the siege drags on, Tywin could strike our rear."
At that, Roose Bolton quietly spoke up, turning to Lady Catelyn.
"My lady, gold isn't what they lack. That leaves power. The Riverlords have always looked down on House Frey as upstarts. For years, they've sought to marry into greater houses. If you were to propose a marriage alliance between House Stark and House Frey, I believe they would agree to aid us."
The lords murmured in approval. After a moment's thought, Catelyn volunteered to go herself to parley with old Walder Frey.
In the end, the two houses reached an accord: Robb would wed one of Walder Frey's daughters, and in return, Arya Stark would be betrothed to a Frey son.
Shortly after the negotiations, a Lannister spy was captured. Robb saw an opportunity—he released the man deliberately, allowing him to "discover" their troop numbers and even carrying back words that seemed to challenge Tywin directly, luring him into battle.
From here, events diverged from the version known on screen. The host was still divided, but this time, Roose Bolton and Robb led the cavalry south to relieve Riverrun, while the men of Skagos, Karhold, and Last Hearth joined forces to execute a feigned attack on Tywin's army.
The soldiers of those three houses were towering, fearsome men. Following Jon's advice, they flew every Northern banner at once. Misled by the spy's report, the Old Lion underestimated Robb and mistook this force for the entire Northern host, sending fifteen thousand men to engage them.
Though Jon's contingent numbered only five thousand, they were all hardened veterans. Outnumbered three to one, they still charged without hesitation.
Jon and Mors Umber led the vanguard in place of Greatjon and Rickard Karstark. On the battlefield, Jon slew Amory Lorch in single combat, while Mors fought like a human meat grinder—cutting down foes by the dozen, nearly reaching Tywin himself before the weight of numbers forced a retreat.
In the end, only fifteen hundred Northerners broke through the encirclement and escaped. Notably, the mountain clans fighting for Tyrion Lannister proved equally ferocious, holding the line against Jon's assault for a time.
After the battle, Tywin surveyed the field and realized the Northern army was far smaller than expected. Alarmed, he ordered an immediate withdrawal to Harrenhal—unsure of what Robb's true intentions were.
But as Tywin's army marched, bad news struck again and again. First, the siege of Riverrun was shattered—Robb Stark's forces annihilated the Lannister host there, with fewer than three thousand survivors fleeing to the Golden Tooth.
Meanwhile, Theon Greyjoy, disguised as Edmure Tully, had lured Jaime Lannister into the Whispering Wood, where a false rumor of Edmure's escape drew the Kingslayer into a trap. His force was wiped out; Jaime himself was wounded and captured.
Robb then unleashed his direwolf on Jaime's camp, panicking the horses and sowing chaos. The Northern army stormed in and crushed the disorganized foe completely.
The victory shook the entire Riverlands. The names Jon Snow, the White Wolf; Theon Greyjoy, the Sea Wolf; and Robb Stark, the Young Wolf spread across the realm. Among the Northern lords, the three were hailed as the "Northern Trio."
Jon, in particular, became legend—soldiers from both sides swore he wielded a blue-glowing magic sword that took off Amory Lorch's head in a single stroke, freezing his corpse solid.
Then came the blow from King's Landing: Joffrey Baratheon, that foolish boy, had ordered Ned Stark's beheading and mounted his head upon the Red Keep's walls. When Tywin heard the news, he nearly spat blood. Furious and helpless, he sent his dwarf son Tyrion to King's Landing to stabilize the capital.
The Seven Kingdoms teetered on the brink. House Lannister now stood alone against nearly every power: the Reach, the Stormlands, Dragonstone, Dorne, the North, and the Riverlands. One misstep could cast them into ruin.
Tywin held grimly to Harrenhal, fortifying his position against the joint Northern and Riverland forces. The Riverlords were broken, their strength spent, but even so, the Old Lion finally admitted he had underestimated the Starks.
Yet his greatest fear was not the wolves, but the dragon—Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone. Like Tywin, Stannis was a true commander of men. Fortunately, his forces were few. As long as King's Landing held, the Lannisters could still prevail.
"Let Tyrion keep the capital safe," Tywin murmured to himself. "Then I'll have time to deal with these Northerners."
He had always known Tyrion's mind was sharp—perhaps the sharpest of his children—but cursed by the body of a dwarf, and by his own shameful appetites.
Tywin had spent his life turning House Lannister from a laughingstock into a dynasty feared throughout Westeros. Yet both his heirs brought him only grief: one bound to the Kingsguard, the other a debauched dwarf. The thought of his family's legacy collapsing after his death filled him with despair.
Perhaps, as people often said, the Seven are just. For everything they grant, they take something away. Tywin Lannister, once seen as the perfect man—wise, brave, and noble—had lived too perfect a first half of life. Now the gods had taken all else from him, leaving him to suffer through the second.
Since losing his beloved wife, he had lived without joy—his only reason to endure was duty to his house.
Now, the Lannisters stood against the world. The Reach, the Stormlands, Dragonstone, Dorne, the North, the Riverlands—all were foes. Once again, House Lannister faced a crossroads: Victory or death.
"I am no devout man," Tywin whispered into the cold, empty hall of Harrenhal, "but may the Seven watch over House Lannister through this storm. Father above, judge my enemies. Smith, guard my soldiers…"
His faint prayer echoed through the dark, lifeless halls, rising like a wisp of smoke toward the heavens.