What if Jamie Lannister was NEVER Released

What if Jamie Lannister was NEVER Released? Let’s explore the depths of it in the video. The northern column marches away from the Twins, their banners fluttering in the crisp autumn wind as they leave from a terse, but largely uneventful wedding. Among them, Jaime Lannister rides in their midst, bound and under heavy guard. The Freys remain in their castle, cowed by the presence of the northern army and the captivity of Jamie Lannister's presence. With the Kingslayer as leverage, the threat of Tywin Lannister’s wrath is held at bay. Despite the reversals they’ve suffered—the fall of Winterfell, the fracturing of their alliances—the Northerners remain defiant. But even still there are issues as many grumble about keeping him alive while so many of their friends lay dead and the war looks grim. But Jamie is the least of their concerns as Robb’s mind has already turned to his next task, recapturing Moat Cailin. The host regroups at the Neck, bolstered by reinforcements from the crannogmen who know the swamps as well as wolves know the forest. Ahead looms Moat Cailin, its broken towers casting jagged shadows over the marshes. The Ironborn hold the ancient fortress, but their defenses are stretched thin. They underestimate the North’s cunning and the crannogmen’s ruthlessness. A small force of Northmen led by Roose Bolton creep north using crannogmen to guide them through the swamp. Robb meanwhile gathers his forces south to attack. The crannogmen strike first, emerging silently from the swamps under cover of darkness. Poisoned arrows fly from the reeds, picking off Ironborn sentries, one by one. Traps spring into the muddy waters, swallowing patrols whole. Fear spreads like wildfire through the garrison, who pull back just as Robb marches forward, leading his men with scaling ladders. Against this attack, the Ironborn are ready, firing arrows down at them and dropping stones at the attackers. Robb stands at the head, covered by the shields of his battleguard. A few lucky Northmen gain the towers and face the Ironborn invaders atop the wall, axes and swords meeting against shields and armor as they fight for control of the few solidified areas. This pulls the small garrison towards the southern section, freeing the north to attack. The crannogmen sabotage the gates, opening them just as Roose’s men press their charge. Caught between the advancing Northerners and the swamp-born assassins, the Ironborn fall in droves. By dawn, the fortress is Stark once more, its ancient stones soaked in Ironborn blood. The victory at Moat Cailin revitalizes the Northern cause. Robb surveys the battlefield from the crumbling ramparts, the weight of recent defeats lifting, if only for a moment. With the fortress secured, he now holds the gateway to the North. As his troops advance up the Neck, he already sends word ahead of their arrival. The remaining castles held by the Ironborn are even easier targets. The garrisons are small and they are facing the very Northmen who once held them. Torrhen's Square, Deepwood Motte, and the Stony Shore all fall in quick succession. The last of these is Winterfell which is in ruins but remains the northern capital. Robb wastes no time, starting to restore and repair the castle back to its proper state. He puts his men working day and night to fix the walls, replace ruined buildings, and clear out the ruins. But as he works, a raven comes from the Wall, calling for help from a wildling army that has placed them under siege. Although weary from battle, the report paints a grim picture and the Night’s Watch have long been allies of the North. Whether or not it affects the war, Robb knows he must respond. He gathers a force of volunteers and rides to the Wall to confront them. The air is sharp and frigid as Robb Stark leads his men toward Castle Black. Smoke drifts lazily from the Wall’s parapets, and the signs of battle are fresh—bodies litter the snow, most clad in black, with others bearing crude leathers and the tattered hides of Wildlings. Robb halts his horse just outside the gates, scanning the scene. His bannermen, still weary from their battles, murmur among themselves. “ Greatjon Umber: We’re too late. The fight’s over. But where are the savages? They should be rampaging across the North. Roose Bolton: You best take a closer look, Lord Umber. The Dreadfort ruler points at Castle Black as a column of disciplined men marches out—soldiers clad in gleaming armor. Robb’s eyes widen as he sees their banners snapping in the wind. The fiery heart of the Lord of Light was emblazoned on crimson cloth. Robb: Stannis. The king in question rides at the front of his column, haggard and gaunt but his head held high. Behind him strides his Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth at his side. Behind them, the grim-eyed men of the Night’s Watch, including Jon Snow, who leads a captive Mance Ryder. Stannis: Robb Stark, I see the North does not abandon the Watch in their hour of need.”