#adogdoesntneedcourage

Okay here's how it goes this goes for both my accounts so here we go.

IN ORDER OF HOW THEY WILL COME:

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If anyone wants to start a thread with either me here or on gendrythefury, please feel free to ask! <3

The first time Robb came glimpsing upon the King's procession, a thin line of men, and horses and carriages lumbering steadily across grass covered mound and snow soaked dirt, stretching along the hill's rise and valley's fall, progressing southward for as far as Robb's eyes may see, if Robb had not known better, the auburn haired Winterfell's heir can almost believe King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, had decided to relinquish his hold at King's landing and choose instead for a quieter resettlement amidst Northern's jagged peaks and snow covered terrain.

That must have been half of his court!, Robb remembered silently musing from his perching atop his own ride. The stallion must have sensed his master's veiled excitement as well. Its soft neighing danced down the column of men who had ridden with him for a first glimpse. Robb also remembered the anticipation he had right after when he had returned and found himself one among men and women who have came to offer their greeting to the warrior who'd slain prince Rheagar Targaryen with his great war hammer, their king, and the man to whom his father was a sworn brother. To his father's left, his mother stood while Robb took to abide by his father's right. Some referred it as the position of honour. Robb, himself though, called it duty.

Robb also remembered the jeering taunt, malicious poison poured forth from Joffery Baratheon's more than plumpy lips afterward to the Winterfell's master of arms' proposition if they would wish to once more cross their swords. He remembered wanting to punch that smirk off the prince's face and the hands that held him back. Still, most of all, he remembered the mind that whispered. Scarred face that could have belonged to the other in hell, and the ticking twitch to the edge of lips as a glance was stolen back, words breathed to the conch of the young cub's ear.

Hence was why Robb found himself irritated so when he discovered himself with the company of one Sandor Clegane while he was working on his move. Northern wind left bare skin tingle when working in combination to the flush sheen of sweat coated upon his person. Disregarding the feeling of eyes on his back, Robb flew from one stance to the next, his practice sword securely held in both his hands. He was not allowed to carry a steel, at least not until Sir Rodrick deemed fit, but no one who saw him now could deny that he knew not the way to wield one. It took a good bit five minutes more before Robb finally let his arms fall and fully turned. His iced blue orbs narrowed down, waried of the man who preferred naming himself the prince's dog.

"Remember men, we take no thralls or salt wives today.  This is about reminding the Mallisters that what is dead may never die, and that the iron ships they burnt have come back harder and stronger...straight to Seagard."

Victarion got off of the paddle-boat that took him from his Iron Victory to the shores of Seagard.  Him and near two thousand men came out of his Iron Fleet to reave the hold of Seagard and bring ironclad vengeance to the Mallisters.  He immediately broke out into a run, holding his axe up high and yelling, "The ironborn have come for your city!  Stand or kneel, you will die either way!"  

The Ironborn swept over the coast at Seagard, burning docks and hewing the dockmasters upon them.  Scouts running to alert their lord were feathered with grey arrows and for all their numbers and raucous clangor, the forces behind Victarion came to Seagard's walls to find no opposition had had time to assemble.  "Bring the ram," he growled.  

By the time they were pounding on the gates, Mallister men had finally started to assemble on the other side, and some were climbing the wall to fire arrows at the incoming horde, but Victarion and his men had shattered the gates before they had made the top.  You shame me Lord Mallister, thought Victarion, there is usually a token force waiting for me at the shore after you've stirred my hornet's nest.