Brodrik Stark had spent the evening after the meeting at Summerhall with the main body of the Northern forces, in their spiked and ditched camp with over a dozen sentries at all times, watching and uncertain. The Wull liked not how close to Dorne they were at Summerhall. [i]"If it were me"[/i], he'd declared around a crowded camp fire, [i]"I'd sneak out of my mountain passes, creep into the valley, and give us bastards a proper welcome. Let unwelcomed visitors know fear."[/i]

Others tried to point out flaws in the logic, most notably that they were plenty far from those mountain passes. But the Wull would hear none of it, waving his hand dismissively, before insisting on the sentries, not just the spikes and ditches. Brodrik could only shrug, and admit they were better safe than sorry. And like that, there were spikes and ditches. Spikes Brodrik helped chop, before returning to the revelry of the Clansmen's pre-campaign camp feast: nearly all the food and wine consumed, had been 'stolen' from Summerhall. Given, in truth, but Princess Vittoria knew the Clans well enough to know to let them think it was something done behind the Crown's back--simply because the men would enjoy it all the more. 

The only thing being indulged in that night that was mostly brought with them from the North...was the women. The Wull, alone, had two busty, bawdy, girls all to himself; one seated on each of his massive thighs, gasping and grinning and giggling at each crude poke and grope and verbal nudge the Wull gave them.

Brodrik had been transfixed by the sheer amount of 'bounce' in their chests, before he felt harder than Ice. Guilt was, in the end, the reason he'd simply excused himself to his pavilion without inviting a female guest with him.

If his hands could wield Ice, he told himself as if to convince himself, they could release his tensions caused by the mountain women just as well as the women themselves could. Wouldn't do for a Stark of Winterfell to take up with some mountain girl, neverminding he knew his father had in his youth, and Beron too.

But Brodrik, and Eddi (and as far as he knew, Vittoria too) were not that sort. They were the more reserved type of Stark, the ones who held pride in holding their wolfsblood back instead of giving into it freely.

Brodrik was nearly fully relieved when Rory Cassel shouted that Robert Ryswell was there to talk to him. Lord Stark found himself sighing, holding his eyes tightly shut and breathing deeply until the irritation melted like summer snow into the back of his mind. Then he re-laced his trousers, went to the wash basin set up for him, and called the Lord of the Rills in.

"My father sees this no different as mounting a force, and riding north of the Wall to attack Wildlings just trying to prepare for Winter." Whether or not that meant Dorrhen Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, thought their task senseless...Brodrik left for the Lord of the Rills to decide. And when the man wanted privacy, Brodrik nodded at the Cassel Knight who'd followed the Ryswell in, a sign Cassel smiled at, before making his exit quietly.

"What may I do for you, my Lord?"

“My lord, I hope it has not been too strenuous an evening on you. I have come to inform you that in the next few days I will be stepping down as Lord of the Rills. I hope you may carry this message to your Father at some point in the next few days. However I have not come to simply inform you of affairs. I need your advice. I have three children all of the suitable age to take my place and all of them…”
 
Robert paused. He knew he was in the presence of a more lax lord however he didn’t know how frank he could be. 
 
“Are little shits. My eldest son wants the Rills independent from the North and is hated by all. My youngest son is loved and a good man however he is also Naïve and I fear politics would kill him. My daughter, she plays the game well and has the heart of a lion. However some of my banners would not agree with placing a woman as lady of the Rills. Who would you have me choose? The support of the Starks in my choice would certainly make the next Lord of the Rills much more stable in their position.”

Waving his hands violently to rid them of their wetness after washing them off, Lord Brodrik Stark the Giantbane turned carefully, and looked at the Lord of the Rills for a long, long, moment before his deep voice rose to speak. 

"Your family has served Winterfell good as any King of the North, or Warden of the North, could dare hope Lord Ryswell." Then, he added: "And they have done so since the Age of Heroes, since Bran the Builder led the charge against the Others in the Long Night, established the Wall, the Night's Watch, and House Stark as the first King of Winter."

Brodrik was wiping his hands against his freshly laced trousers to fully dry them, holding on asking why in the name of Gods new and Old the Lord's son would want to severe such a tested, and ancient, bond. "Winter is coming, Lord Ryswell. And when winter comes, the pack survives, and the lone wolf dies."

That was all Brodrik would say on that particular subject, forcing himself to address the Lord's true question. "It sounds as if the only way to please your vassals, and your own overlord, is your second son. The Night's Watch is always in need of good men, and mayhaps seeing what lurks on the other side of the Wall may remind your first born the importance of those ancient, tested, bonds between my House and yours, and the bonds from your House to your own bannermen's Houses."

"If your daughter wishes to rule, have her be your heir's shadow shield. Protect him where he needs protection, in this 'Game' of thrones." Brodrik said it, and said it coldly, never actually seeing the matter of life and death as a game, himself. "Though the North does not suffer politics and plotting for the sake of politics and plotting. We are blood of the First Men, we serve the Old Gods, and know what we truly guard our castle walls and smallfolk from--and politics and plotters is not it, though you are very wise to see the strengths and weaknesses of your kin."

"I'm sure Lord Dorrhen would assist in finding your daughter a suitable match that would allow her to stay at the Rills, if that is your wish for her. Or to find her a match that would give your heir a strong alliance to weather whatever political winds you fear he would need assistance and seasoning to survive."

Robert nodded as the Stark spoke. He knew of course that Roger’s desires of a free Rills were foolish. The Wall certainly was the right place for the boy to go too, it would teach him to control his urges and perhaps throw the fear of the Gods into him.
 
“My lord your words are wise and true beyond your years. I will certainly take your opinions into consideration. Of course I will not allow any man under my house or any to break the ties to the North. We have served you faithfully and will continue to do so as long as a Ryswell rules the Rills. I believe I shall place my youngest son as the new Lord of the Rills. My daughter will not be happy to act as a shadow however in time she may find it to her liking. I swear some days she is more a wraith than a princess, slipping from hall to hall un-noticed. If Lord Dorrhen would find the time to find my daughter a suitable man whilst keeping her in the Rills that would be most generous. I am not a humble man Lord Stark, I will always stand up for my family no matter what. I will not, however, stand by and watch them tear the family apart. That is why I must be so harsh on my kin. A good lord has no room for sentiment. I will announce my stepping down on a return to the Rills. I shall also have more men sent from Castle Storn to aid in the North’s role in the coming war. ‘Only the Strong Prevails’ Lord Stark and ‘Winter is Coming’.”
Robert bowed his head once more and went to make his leave. He now had a Starks view and a way of dealing with Roger. He simply had to see the next few weeks through now and he could retire to his small holdings.

Brodrik let out a heavy breath, and for half a moment...considered unlacing his trousers again, before admitting to him the moment was gone, now.