Chapter 3- The wolf and snake together
"Here you are, Jon; home sweet home!" The Blackfish said, laughing a deep laugh as he showed the Greatjon the camp that the Brotherhood without Banners was housed in.
. The Brotherhood was the ones responsible for his improvised release from the twins, which was not even a segment of a moon ago, and they had been riding ever since, only stopping to relieve themselves and the horses sake for the brotherhood needed all the horses that they could get. Eventually, they were riding through a field with stony walls on three sides, and a forest cutting across the last side, when the Blackfish made them deviate and ride upon the trees. Once inside, the now dark landscape, they slowed their mounts.
"What the fuck do we do now?" The Greatjon asked quietly, but Ser Brynden waved his hand frantically, stilling him, and they watched the darkened trees together. It seemed even the trees were holding their breath. Then, there was a sigh, and an arrow appeared, catching the light as it buried itself in the tree next to Brynden, causing his hair to stir as it moved, startling all of them, and causing the horses to prance around, until the riders brought them back under their control.
"Your aim still needs improvement, Anguy" Brynden barked, which resulted in bales of laughter from darker areas of the forest.
"Can't blame me for practicing then" Came the jovial reply, and a small group of horses came upon them. They were all wearing rugged and mismatched armour that had yet to be cleaned so still had the rustic look from dried blood. The leading rider, the Greatjon presumed was Anguy, for he had the bow in hand with a quiver over his shoulder. Anguy urged his horse forward, and dismounted, with far more grace than expected. Leaving his bow around his trusting horse's neck, he walked forward.
"This is the fruit of your mission you undertook? Where are the others?" he enquired, frowning slightly. The Blackfish shook his head.
"They provided the distraction I needed, but I fear that they did their job too well". Anguy and the others looked forlorn at this news. Obviously, this was a true brotherhood if when men died it hit all of them this hard.
"Well they did their job. Here stands the Young Wolf's champion, the Greatjon" he said, looking the man up and down. Then he moved forward and said "You are surely needed here my lord. We have need of you for the mission at hand." They clasped Forearms.
"I have to help him. I failed him once, when I was too worried about how to acquire more wine. I failed the king in the North and Lady Stark both. I will not do so again." He solemnly said. He noticed then that the Anguy shared a brief fleeting moment with the Blackfish, but thought nothing of it.
They quickly made their way back through the now warm forest, the leaves lingering on their shoulders as they passed by, until they made it to the heart, where a small camp fire was burning, contrary to the numerous tents there. The people there were milling around talking to brethren and kin alike, when talk suddenly died in their throats. They turned as one, to stare at the group as they made their way through the tents. Then, as though the gods themselves forced them to, they knelt as one.
"Why do you kneel? I may be good, but I'm not that fucking good!" The Greatjon roared, laughing as he did. This comment brought confusion to the soldiers kneeling. The Blackfish moved to stand at his shoulder.
"You may have failed them the first time, but you won't fail them both this time" he stated, as the largest tent's entrance, surrounded by the others, was thrust aside, and two shadows moved into the dappled sunlight. As the Greatjon identifies the shadows, and his world takes on new dimensions, the silence is filled with laughter and wolf howls.
The black cell was silent, although there was the distant rumbling of a city that surrounded them waking up. It was this noise that woke the wolf, Robb.
Days had passed since the Lady Margaery had been forced to share the black cell that he had oh so happily occupied, his life had not seem so bleak. There was something about her. It could have been her kindness that she showed him, despite her own situation, she paid no heed to that. Or it might have been her humour, her japes that lifted his spirit, and made him like her more. Things had been complicated with Jeyne, and the Red Wedding was the ill gained fruit of the rotten tree. But with Margaery it seemed as simple as breathing. Things were so simple between them, almost as if they were destined. Robb snorted to himself, thinking such happy thoughts for a dead man pulling a wry smile as he sat up, against the wet stone wall.
The woman of his thoughts was currently lying next to him, her chest rising and falling gently, was covered by the doublet that he himself had worn. Just because of their predicament did not stop him being the man that his mother had taught him to be. Her arm, which was placed softly across his chest as they slept, moved aside as first he moved, then she did albeit in her sleep. With the soft obstacle removed, he stood up slowly, stretching sore and weary muscles. He was hungry, for food primarily, but it was more than that. He hungered for something, anything to happen. He hungered to see the godwoods, listen to the sound that he would listen to thousands of leagues away in his true home. He wondered vaguely if they had forgotten about him down here, in his new, smaller, kingdom. But the reality returned to him with a sting. Joffrey will his soul as black as pitch, would not have forgotten about such a prize for torture, especially when there was a Stark he could use Robb to bring pain to. He had not been allowed to see Sansa, and so she wouldn't even know that he still drew breath.
That idle fantasy was torn apart as Robb heard the metallic clang, as the noise sounded the presence of guards. The guards would bring food before dawn and before dusk, to make the prisoners suffer, he thought sadly, as the footsteps got louder as the guards approached the cells. Robb grudgingly started to walk towards the dark metal door, as they guards noises reached a crescendo as their feet appeared at the top of the stairs, with them murmuring to each other as they moved down the stairs.
The dream was further torn when the taller guard with a dark beard covering his lower face, smirking slightly, started talking.
"Looks like your time has come, your grace," he said, with a mocking courtesy, a smile emerging from his dark beard. "The days of the boy king have come to an end, now that his name day to be a man grown has arrived, with him holding a tourney in the time of peace for all lords. Not only that, but in his infinite wisdom, he will have you killed by the victor of the jousting, in front of your sister no less."
The smiles that the guard gave were spreading across the entirety of their faces, which was copied, almost by mummery, in the other, short guard. The smaller one, who had a milky white scar snaking across his lowed face, but in no way hindered him to smirk at the situation at hand. Whatever warmth that had been in Robb starting this morning, had left him feeling cold, with his face reflecting the white and grey of the Stark colours. He had long ago expected his own death, as he had every day since the red wedding, or so the guards had thrown the words at him in his darker moments.
As the guards pushed the single solitary tray of food into the dark cell, Robb moved quickly across the room and grabbed the trailing arm moving out of the cell.
"Please Ser, since this day seems to be my last, would you bring us more food to share before I am to go?" Robb pleaded with the commoner. It shamed him to have fallen so low, but that was the Lannister's doing, not his. Fortunately, fortune was kissing him today.
"I'm no Ser, but I will see to it that you get that extra food. Wouldn't want the King in the North to meet his end on an empty stomach, now would we?" The guard said, with a cruel twitch in his beard, but his eyes softened, and he nodded to Robb, before climbing the stone steps, behind his companion.
Robb breathed a sigh of relief. If this day was to be his last, then he wanted to be lead to his death with his head held high and walking proud, for more reasons than just his pride. His sweet sister, Sansa, would be amongst the crowd surely, so he had to assure her that this was, not alright for no matter how long he had stayed down here, he didn't want to die, but to discourage her from trying anything.
Sobering up, he walked back to his place of slumber, and slowly sat next to the still sleeping woman. But it seemed that this was the final straw for his sleeping, as she began to stir and drift back into reality. Robb watched as she slowly lifted her dainty head, her hair moving behind like a shimmering chestnut waterfall. He smiled a warm smile as she opened her eyes.
"Why good morn, my Lady, what chance this was, meeting you here." He japed, which earned him a sleepy smile from her, as she yawned sycophantically, stretching and underneath the doublet that was Robb's, revealing the sweet swell of her breast to him, which caused an unwanted return of smattering of blood to return to his face.
"Why my good Ser, the gods have truly blessed me to have meet you today." She returned the jape, that had become an event as the enigmatic man before her was always trying to raise her spirits.
Robb, try as he might, could not feel as happy as normal, so he sighed, his smile slipping of his face as easily as water runs off ice, and spoke gravely.
"My lady"' He began his voice cracking softly as he spoke, "This is to be last day in your presence. The king is to hold a tourney in honour of his name day, him becoming a man, and so he had decreed, in his infinite wisdom, that I am to be executed by the winner of the jousting".
Margaery looked at him blankly, for she did not understand. Why was he to be killed in front of the entire highborn class? Of course, she was upset about this, he was a charming, handsome man, he she fancied him dearly, but she knew that he was not highborn, not good enough, although she thought he was fiercely, for the marriage of the only daughter of the Tyrell Family, she thought sadly.
Studying her face, for she had been silent for a time, he could see this conclusion dawn on her, by the downward tint of her eyebrows, and not for the first time, he was annoyed with himself for not telling her who he was. Of course, it was wise not to, for her family had fought his in the war of the five kings, but it hurt him, her thinking that he wasn't good enough for her.
She turned towards him, a new flirtatious smile gracing her lips.
"Well if this is to be your last day with me, can you tell me more about yourself then?" She asked, her smile widening as she spoke, showing her gleaming white teeth.
Robb had a smirk of his own, by the end of her question. She had constantly been asking about his past, and what had brought him to be in this. But, contrary to what he wanted to say, he had to be careful about what he told her. Although it surely did not help his resolve when she looked at him like that, or when her fingers were lightly tracing the muscles on the nearest arm. After a moment of hesitation, he asked with a playful smile,
"Very well. I will not deny you this once. Ask away." Margaery sat up, eager now as the man opposite her seemed to have given in, at long last.
"Well, did you have any companions before all of this?" She asked, although Robb could her trepidation, as well as a hesitation at the word of companion. As the question was uttered, Robb's mind wandered down the path of memory. Jon, Theon, all of his other friends, all the girls of his childish fancies of Winterfell but two more drifted to the front of his mind. Firstly, there was Grey Wind, who had travelled everywhere with him, saved him from numerous people, but it was more than that. With the loyal wolf, there was a bond, which could not be broken. The other, as much as he loath to admit it, was Jeyne. Although the circumstances of their marriage were the crux of his situation, she had been kind to him, seeing as they had been spurned away from each other by their own families. Eventually, after a time of retrospect, he looked up to her, who seemed rather tense, tapping her legs with delicate fingernails.
"As far as companions go, there was one," He said, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone, "He was as loyal to me as was possible, and he saved my life more times than I would care to mention. But if you were asking about women, that's a different story. My….story was busy as I became a man grown, but there was one, a Jeyne Westerling. I was…emotional one night, being tended to by her, and one thing lead to another. Come the morn, and I disregard my honour for hers, and marry her that same day, but that had consequences. Which is why, I am having the best time possible here, and Jeyne is…at the Crag, or with a new husband" Robb finished was a sad note in his quivering voice. Margaery, as his story unfolded before her, had changed from warmth, to shock, but as Robb turned away, he saw a small smile form upon those rosy lips. But that quickly was vanquished by the overwhelming question in her mind. Who was this man, to marry a highborn girl?
"Who are you?!" she emphasised again, as this was knowing away at her brain. Robb looked to want to answer the only question that mattered, but he thought better of it. After a briefly muttered 'later' he turned over, closed his eyes, and let the nightmares consume him.
At the same time, before the sun's rays had yet to illuminate the waters surrounding the city, a boat, unimpressive and forgettable, surged into the harbour. But this boat was not alone. There was a man, waiting for it, shrouded in shadow, but for his stance, he had all the time in the world. As the boat approached the wooden jetty, ending its hard journey with a soft noise, the man moved forwards, meeting the occupants who were vacating, clasping the first man's forearm.
"Welcome to this shit pile, my new comrades" He said in a hypnotic, almost snake like voice, "Does everyone know their part to play in this, because there will be no going back?"
"Of course we fucking do" came the gruff reply. "As of course you do. Now let's leave this feast for our enemies' eyes and go do our duty". With that they walked, fast enough due to the giant of a man's pacing, into the city beyond.
Jaime POV
The day of his 'nephew' name day began with a startlingly bright morning for them to break their fast. The other men of the white were spread around the hall, whilst Jaime, Cersei and Tommen were seated at the gilded table near the window. This particular window was rarely used, due to the view if gave, of the city spread out below them, which although gave Cersei a sort of savage pleasure, she couldn't stand It most of the time.
The three of them were enjoying breaking their fast on honeyed cakes with bacon and wine. Well, Tommen was enjoying it at any rate, the adults were to tense and the day ahead to eat. Cersei turned on the bench to the servants standing behind them.
"Go and wake Joffrey up, would you?" The woman who was at the receiving end of the Queen Regents anger shook slightly, before running out of the room. Cersei turned around, smug smile in place, whilst directing her next question at Jaime.
"Are all the addition gold cloaks here for this? There will be Northmen here" she muttered, so as to not alert Tommen. Jaime looked briefly up before returning to cutting up his bacon.
"Aye, the jousting will take place, the winner will be crowned. Then the feast and dancing. Once everyone has drunk their weight in wine, then the King in the North will be presented to the crowd, and a sword to the winner. No one will be able to stop this, to many swords holding them in their seats" He finished with no emotion on his face, despite the turmoil within. Ever since the release of him via Catelyn Stark, the vow to her and the almost taking of his hand, he had tried to look out for Sansa, which was not easy, given the nature of his beloved. Which was why today was no happy occurrence for him.
At ends with his opinion was the King, who was announced by his page, then swaggered into the hall. He looked far too cheerful, Jaime thought, as he all but whistled moving to take his place on the bench for food.
"Is today the day that whoreson dies?" Was the first thing his reedy cruel voice sang as he grabbed for wine and bacon. Cersei looked to be content with this nodding her head to his question, but Jamie bowed his head, to mask his scowl. The king was too vindictive, too cruel to inspire loyalty.
The rest of the meal passed in a blur, or as fast as Jaime would later remember, and then they were passing from the red keep down into the Tourney grounds. The all too familiar jousting ground, the place of action, was surrounded by food, wine and laughter. There was a veritable flood of people, in all manner and colour of silks, eating and drinking, whilst most of them turning when he and the Queen Regent walked to be among them. Their lord father, Tywin, who had wished him every luck when he disowned Jaime, was waiting for them, his face set in stone. As the twins drew alongside him, his face seemed to become harder still.
"Father" Cersei beamed at him, immune to his stone silence whilst Jaime stood there, waiting. Let's see what you say on this day, father, he thought as the man opposite them stared at him pensively before turning to his daughter.
"Cersei' He returned the greeting with a small smile that looked as real as the mummers acting on a stage near the food. "I won't ask you why you're so happy". Of course Tywin knew of Robb, respected him, but that wouldn't stop him sleeping at night when he was dead.
"Small pleasures" She replied, with that pretty smile of hers, as she started the leisurely stroll to their sits atop the stands, but it had lost its magic know. Jaime had known kindness of the Lady Brienne, yearned for it, but Cersei showed none of it.
They had merely gone a few paces to stop and grab some of the sumptuous food that was on stands that half of Kings Landing could not have afforded, when the way to the food was blocked.
"Your grace, Lord Tywin" Came the smooth velvet voice of Prince Oberyn Martell. The dornish man was wearing his yellow silks, with those golden chains making their way round his bronzed neck. His lined face broken in warmth, but Jaime saw that those black "viper" eyes were untouched by his smile. His black hair, sparkling with dark brilliance, was swept back. On his arm was his paramour, the bastard born Ellaria Sand. By no means a beauty, especially with Cersei at hand, she possessed a certain exotic flair that made her attractive enough. Her robes, also of yellow silk, were open at the front, almost exposing herself, but covered by long luscious black hair.
"Prince Oberyn" Lord Tywin responded, not unkindly nodding his head in respect.
"I don't believe you have meet. This" Indicating the women next to him, "is Ellaria Sand. Ellaria, this is the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister, and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. I suppose it is former Queen Regent now" He said, looking at her sharply. "Lady Cersei, Lord Hand, Ellaria Sand" He finished. It did not escape his notice that he chose to ignore Jaime, standing slightly further back than his family.
"Charmed." His father responded, nodding his head slightly, slight enough to show respect, but not enough to show fondness. Bastards were not shown warmth here, Jaime thought.
Cersei chose that moment to sigh, and Jaime knew that she would not blunt the sword that her words were to make.
"Can't say I've ever met a sand before." She said, with a smile that was far from friendly. Jaime moved out from behind them to stand next to his Lord father, who was perhaps cursing his daughter from all of the seven. Prince Oberyn did not take that comment well either, as his eyes grew sharper still. Ellaria herself, drops what was a façade, a mummers façade, but a façade to be sure.
"We are everywhere in Dorne. I have ten thousand brothers and sisters." She stated and Jaime thought that she was a suitable paramour for prince Oberyn for venom was hidden in those words.
Oberyn looked back at the Lannisters.
"Bastards are born in passion aren't they?" Oberyn asked, and here Jaime saw a sly smile creep into the corner of his mouth as he looked as himself, but the other two missed it. "We don't despise them in Dorne".
"No? How tolerant of you" Cersei spoke, her face the fierce lioness, as her eyes flickered to Ellaria.
"I expect it is a relief, Lady Cersei, giving up your regal responsibilities. Wearing the crown for so many years, must have left your neck a bit crooked." Oberyn said, and there was no hiding the anger that showed there.
"Suppose you'll never know Prince Oberyn. It's a shame your older brother couldn't attend the wedding." His sister spat, her tone light enough that the sword in the comment was not thrown into the light for all to see.
"Please give him my regards." Lord Tywin said, trying, most queerly, to diffuse the tension at hand. 'With any luck the gout will abate and he'll be able to walk again."
Prince Oberyn laughed, eating the sweet grapes, as he spoke.
"They call it the rich man's disease. I wonder why you don't have it" His face falling, yet again, into the snake, poised to strike.
His father did not blink.
"Noblemen in my part of the country don't enjoy the same lifestyle as our counterparts in the south" He spoke, still smiling his chilling smile. Oberyn stepped forward slightly, and Jaime loosed his sword slightly. Surely Oberyn is not stupid enough to start anything, he thought.
"People everywhere have their differences. In some place the highborn frown on those of low birth. In some places, the rape and murder or women and children is considered distasteful" He uttered, his face full of thunder, staring at his father, whose face had frozen in the small smile.
"How fortunate, Lady Cersei, that you daughter Marcella has been sent to live in the later sort of place". Then his face changed, the snake in his skin laughing, and cruelly at that as he moved closer still.
"Dorne may not despise Bastards. But neither will we have them a crown and call them King" He spoke, eyes flicking between himself and Cersei as he said this, so softly, that Jaime could say that they were words of wind. And with that, he walked off, silks moving as he did so, Ellaria laughing quietly as they did so.
As Jaime watched them go, his face enflamed in both rage and fear that his Lord father would know what he meant, his line of sight was interrupted by light reflecting. As he moved, to avoid the glare he saw the offending object was in the shape of a gold cloak, moving with several companions through the fringes of the festivities. He frowned. Gold cloaks were not allowed here during the tourney, to be sure, so what were these particular men doing? The man in front, in particular, was a giant of a man, face obscured by the golden chains around his helm, but his gait was familiar. Excusing himself from his family, he slowly started walking to shadow the men, who by the path they were taking, seemed to be heading for the Red keep, with two of them carrying a moving crate between them.
Sansa POV
The sun filtered through the trees on the edge of the feasting, the laughter and shouts somehow being filtered too, or so it seemed to Sansa. She sat there, unmoving, like the statues in Winterfell, with perfect likeness. She had never felt more alone than she had in recent times. Robb had been killed at her Uncle's wedding, Arya had gone missing and Bran, Rickon and her memory of Winterfell were killed by the thrice-damned Theon. All the lords and ladies in the capital had quickly chosen sides, and not in her favour, hence why she had quickly become alone, here in this Rat's nest.
She looked across the gap that had grown in the time since she had moved to the bench, watching the people who with the starting of minstrels playing their lively music had taken to dancing. She used to love dancing around the hall of Winterfell, lifting the rafters with laughter, but she flushed with anger, hating why they were dancing. She was so focused on the couples moving around each other that when a silk like voice spoke, she was startled considerably.
"The masses, dancing through their ignorance."
She stood instantly, looking to the man before her. He was clearly Dornish, with his bronzed skin, and dark swept back hair.
"My lord?" She asked, not sure where he was going with his words. He smiled thinly, hands clasped before him.
"They are happy, whilst other have died. It seemed that way after the Robert Baratheon had won, and people were celebrating, even as my sister and her children lay bloody and broken before me" He sighed, clearly still hurting, as he sat down, even as she sat next to him.
"Prince Oberyn?" She asked, knowing only one person, besides her Aunt, who was the woman that suffered from the rebellion. He smiled by way of confirmation, then turned again to look at the dancers, again. Then, after a time, where the King himself had come to join in with the festivities and her face angered more so, he leaned in towards her. Still he came, so close that she thought he would brush her lips with his own. But he moved his head, to brush his lips into her ear.
"We are getting you out of this Rats nest, my lady. Stay close to me, for when the bells ring, as they surely will, it will be our time to go". She turned sharply to stare at him, him that would risk everything, to help a small, scarred girl.
"Why?" She choked out, although scarred, touched that someone, after so long, would show kindness to someone who had helped bring his family down.
"Because the Starks are needed to bring to North to heel, for when the Dragons return, they need the wolves by their side" He breathed again, his breath tickling her cheek.
"Why would I agree to this?" she asked, steel entering her voice, but veering slightly towards the end, when he smirked, seeing straight through her. He moved closer still.
"Because your brother, Robb, is alive, being kept in the black cells."
She froze. Robb, the brother she had always idolised, in his being the one to inherit Winterfell, the one to claim Ice, the one who became King, yet never had time for his sister. But still he was family, he brother, and, as she steeled herself, would do what it took to see the Starks together.
"Well then your grace, let us dance together, the wolf and the sun." She said with a large smile creeping across her face that hid her nerves. Things were to get serious today, and she couldn't be a little girl whilst it did. Prince Oberyn laughed, and led her to meet Ellaria on the dance floor.
Jaime POV
The gold cloaks were roaming further into the Red keep, moving slower now, and hands twitching for their swords. Jaime was walking a hall lengths behind, slowly, his golden armour clinking softly as he did. They were here for something to be sure, he thought as he crept round another stone corner, catching the flick of their capes. He shook himself slightly. I am a lion of Lannister, he thought, not some nice creeping behind bigger animals. And so, he silently drew his sword, shimmering in the sunlight from the windows, as he walked faster after them.
Eventually he came to a corridor with steps descending into the bowels of the Keep, but what drew his attention was the door in front of him, with the door, slightly ajar. He approached it cautiously, sword held high, listening, ear pressed to the door. He could hear slightly scuffles, as though they knew he was there. He was about to burst through the doors, when he heard a noise behind him, and turned towards it, but it was too late. The fist that was to be at the base of his neck, connected instead with his chin, jerking his head back, knocking bodily through the doors, to land with metallic crash on the stone floor. Jaime blinked, room spinning, as he spat out blood. That was a god's punch, he thought, as he tried to push himself up to be able to see who did that, but that was rendered obsolete when a deep rumble as though the very Red Keep was talking.
"Nice to see you again, you southern scum." Jaime froze, remembering that voice, and slowly moved to sit. The man before him was part giant, thick of the shoulders and arms. Whilst he was wearing a helmet, Jaime knew there were hard brown eyes staring back the man lying before him. Jaime recognised this man, for he had brought him before the Young wolf, and he did not relish this second meeting.
"Greatjon" Jaime greeted, speaking through blood. "Forgive my ignorance, but you seem to be a long way from home" He smirked, an attempt to show arrogance, whilst inside, he felt a prickle of fear.
"Well, as much as I would like to be back in the North, we are here for our King" The Greatjon looked over Jaime's golden head, and Jaime heard the tell-tale sounds more sword being drawn behind him.
"Your King?" Jaime asked, stalling, someone should be walking near, to be sure, and they'll raise the alarm. "To my knowledge you don't have a king, but a Warden, by the name of Bolton, or am I mistaken?" He smirked at the Greatjon.
The Greatjon spat, looking downright murderous.
"Don't play games, Kingslayer. Your sister would have known moons ago, and she would have said the words around your cock in her mouth. You know his Grace is here and where. But so do we. So, to save time, and words, be a good little Lannister" Greatjon finished, as several hand grabbed Jaime by his armour. He struggled briefly before the giant before him. Jaime saw a rush or metal felt a pain, and then, blackness.
Margaery POV
Since their conversation in the early hours of dawn, the man growing more and more dear to her heart had become more and more stoic. Once he had woken once again, from a troubled dream, mumbling about snow, he had been unresponsive to her questions, responding monosyllabically. She sympathised with him, she did, but it hurt for him to not be open with her. He, of the handsome face and the kind heart, who talked about having a wife, yet at times seemed almost shy around her. Right now, as she was tapping out a childhood song with her, now chipped and dirtied nails, he was wringing his auburn hair in his hands, with what sounded like tears emanating from him, which drove her to action. Not standing it any longer, she stood, her now thoroughly ruined dress straightening to her figure once more, as she moved to sit by his side.
At her touch on his shoulder, he started but relaxed once he saw the owner of the hand, then produced a sad smile when he saw the emotional look upon her face. Leaning against her own shoulder he sighed.
"No matter what they say if me later, I ask not to think too harshly of me" He whispered. Margaery frowned, creases on her forehead, as she sat up.
"Who," She was just about to emphasise the question, insisting for an answer, when there came cry from somewhere above them. Both of them tensed, looking like a couple, frozen in stone. They silenced, listening to above, as the voiced increased in frequency and noise. Shouting was occurring above, but what worried Margaery was when metal striking metal, and screams of men.
She looked at Robb, but he seemed in the dark as much as her, his eyes fearful staring at the stone ceiling. As the noise seemed to creep to extinction, there was a cry, and the old door at the top of the stairs, and what sounded like a heavy something like a heavy thing came hurtling down the stairs. The two prisoners rushed to the door of the cell, as the noise came to the bottom of the stairs and into the light. They could see now that it was the man who had come to visit them this dawn, but even that was hard to identify. His face had been savaged, one eye scratched out, leaving a smear of clear liquid upon the slashed skin. His throat was a mess of white with red, his life's blood leaving him to quickly create a pool of dark liquid upon the greening floor.
Margaery clutched Robb's arm, going pale at the ruby coloured blood, never having seen so much blood before, or from such grievous a wound. But she turned paler still when she heard a deep growl emanating from the stairs. She moved behind Robb, shaking, as a wolf, of nightmarish proportions, of smoky grey fur, jumped down the stairs and lapped up the blood pooling near the corpse. After a moment, the wolf turned, and Margaery could see the bright yellow eyes that belonged to the monster but it was more than that. She could see intelligence there, and that scarred her more.
Margaery might have moved away, in fear of the wolf, but Robb had moved closer, fallen down onto his knees, and in a shaky voice, brimming with emotion, he uttered,
"Grey Wind?" Instantly, the male wolf's eyes changed from Margaery to Robb, for she could see that it was a he, rushed to the bars of the door. Margaery screamed, in fear that the man, after her heart, was to be killed by this beast, by the scream died in her throat. The wolf was stood, shockingly still for a creature of its size, staring at the man before him as though he had seen the sun again.
The moment between wolf and man was broken when Margaery voiced a question.
"I don't understand?" She said, looking between them, sure of information that was within her grasp. The young man looked away from the wolf to her.
"This is my companion, Grey Wind. He is the one that was with me everywhere, and saved my life a few times." He smiled a warm smile turning back as the wolf pranced back, wagging his tail, pining for his friend.
The pining noises were interrupted by a deep booming laughter, as men, as few as four descended the stairs, the first of which was veritable giant of a man, who removed his golden visor and spoke to the man with her.
"A few times, your grace? Why, he saved you from being beaten by a loyal bannerman" The man proclaimed loudly, grinning down at the man on the other side of iron, as he grinned in return.
"Greatjon, I knew you'd come" He said "Now, you had better have the keys to this hell?" He gestured at the rusting door, to which one of the men following this 'Greatjon' rushed to produce, turning them and opening the door with barely a noise. The man next to her, walked out, and Margaery noticed his mannerism had changed. He now walked with an air of determination, as thought he would not squander this chance.
The wolf, who had stayed quiet throughout the exchange, launched himself at Robb, and down they went in a warm, happy bundle, until the Wolf reluctantly climbed off him and stood at the shoulder of this mysterious man, as he stood.
"What's the plan for this daring rescue?" The boy asked, turning to the other man, who bowed slightly, before answering.
"Do not fret, Your Grace. The Viper and Spider have a plan" He answered, with a hint of distaste filling his mouth.
Margaery was at the height of curiosity. Who was this man, to be rescued by the Red Viper and Varys?
"Pardon my Lords," She said out of manners, for she did not know if they were true lords. The fact that none of the men blinked at the honour of Lord answered her question. 'But who are you?" she finished, turning once again to the enigma before her, currently standing before her, with a wolf on one shoulder, and a giant at the other. He drew himself up slightly, and with a look of resignation, he told her.
"I am Robb Stark, King of the North and the Riverlands, my lady. And we need to leave, before the Lannister's change that!"
A/N Sorry for the week between updates, was cycling around France, which sounds vastly better saying it, instead of doing it. Hope everyone likes it, reviews would be appreciated, thanks.
