Chapter 19: Mother Tongue

Robb stood over the sole window in the library tower. Snow gathered in his bright red hair as he leaned over, looking down at the foot of Winterfell. He didn't notice the sound of footsteps behind him until he felt a frail hand on his shoulder.

Maester Luwin stood next to him, nodding his head towards the gate. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your brother?"

Robb looked back, back to the vague figure of Jon. His leather armor, his chainmail, his yellow eyes, his black hair. His face that looked oh so much like his father's.

"I don't know if I should."

Maester Luwin chuckled. "He's your brother. What happened yesterday...well, I suppose it's not my place to say. But it's best to realize reality. Jon will never get rid of his title of bastard. It is a part of him that cannot be erased, by sword or pen."

Robb was somewhat stunned. The old man was more observant than he thought, more observant of Robb than Robb was of himself. In the old man's eyes, perhaps he was just a boy. Worried over something that would never come to pass. But his anxiety from yesterday only grew stronger come morning.

"You didn't hear how the small folk cheered for him maester Luwin. How the guards chanted his name as if he was their lordling. Once he comes back, what will happen?"

"You are Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark, lord of Winterfell and warden of the North. The blood of the first men runs through your veins. When the time to rule comes, the people will accept you with open arms."

"Jon is also the son of my father. More than I could ever be. He has his hair, his face, his honor. I am not the son of Eddard Stark. I am the son of Catelyn Tully. They won't accept someone who looks like me as their lord when Jon is around."

Maester Luwin pulled at Robb's arm and dragged him over to the large table in the middle of the rows of book stands. "What are men loyal to Robb?"

Robb furrowed his eyesbrows. Did the old maester think him a fool? "What do you mean? There are many things that men are loyal to. Their family's, their wives, their gods."

Maester Luwin nodded. "Yes, that is very true. But why? Why are men loyal to these things?"

"Well, men have loyalty to their families because they share blood, their wives because of love, and their gods because of faith."

Luwin smiled, his toothless smile showing his bright pink gums. "What is blood worth Robb? Or love or faith? These things are arbitrary, meaningless. People don't have affection for others simply because of blood relation. Love isn't something magical or spiritual. In truth, it's a reaction animals have that keeps their species alive. And faith is just believing in something, whether that particular thing exists or not."

Maester Luwin pulled a book out from one of the shelves and opened it to the first page. Robb, despite being well read, couldn't understand the text. It didn't seem to be the common tongue or any of the eastern languages. "I'm sure you know the story of Aegon the Conqueror. How exactly did he come into power?"

"Through fire and blood. He and his sisters destroyed the armies of the seven kingdoms with their dragons and united then with their strength."

"At that time. The Targaryens were outsiders. Invaders who had never before set foot in Westeros. Tell me Robb. Why did ancient families like the Tully's who faithfully served for centuries betray their lords? Why weren't they loyal to their previous overlords? They swore oaths of fealty, they agreed to protect and serve. Yet they betrayed them all the same."

"Well, they were acting out of necessity to survive. If they didn't switch camps they'd be burnt alive."

Maester Luwin's smile grew wider. "Exactly. They did what they did out of necessity. What those small folk outside care most about is themselves. Their survival, their family's wellbeing, their happiness, their beliefs, and their values, whatever those may be. As long as you serve and protect the people, they will rally behind you in droves. It is the leader with the best qualities that inspires loyalty in his men."

"But..." Robb's words never left his tongue, but it was clear what he was going to say. He didn't believe that he had better qualities than Jon.

It was Jon who commanded the respect of the household guard. It was Jon who could fight grown men as a boy. It was Jon who was going on a journey to prove himself worthy of his family ties while Robb sat idle in Winterfell like the privileged noble he was.

When people saw Jon, wouldn't they think him vastly superior to the unseen heir who didn't dare leave Winterfell? Robb didn't know. He was deaf to what was said outside the walls. Everything in his head was based off his own presumptions.

"Don't fret Robb. Ruling is not what it seems to be. You may think your father sits on a pedestal of power from which no man can touch him. But that is simply not the case I'm afraid. Power is a vague word. It can mean any assortment of things. But if there is one thingy that I hope you realize it's that you are worthy of being the Lord of Winterfell. Do not doubt yourself. The greatest challenge men will face in their lives is themselves."

Maester Luwin gave Robb a strong pat on the back and carried his book with him out of the library. Robb watched from the windowsill as the decrepit weak man walked all the way to the gate where he handed the book to Winterfell.

"Mother Tongue." Robb muttered randomly. "Is that the name of that language, or just the title of the book?"