So enjoy this chapter, thank you for reading and stuff. I forgot to update again but I'm basically trash to whatever, I like this chapter and I hope that you do too. I don't know what else to say other than enjoy.
IV
ROBB
METAL clashed together, vibrations steadily running up arms. The larger sword belonged to Robb Stark who was grinning manically at the person he was versing. The person who held a smaller sword had eyebrows furrowed, it was Arya Stark who had her hair still pulled back at her nape. He jumped forward only to have his sister dart away from the sword, still wearing breeches as they were not likely to get a dress as they sailed to Meereen. He also believed his sister would gut him rather than be forced into a dress.
"Are you really trying Arya?" Robb challenged mockingly.
"Of course I am," Arya snapped, "Stop trying to provoke me!"
"Come and get me!" Robb teased as he jumped back away from her flashing.
"Robb!" Arya complained, "This is not a game!"
"Why have you given up?" Robb teased as he let his sword rest in the deck of the ship.
"I have not," Arya snarled. "You just need to take this more seriously!"
"I am taking this rather seriously," Robb grinned at her. "But why are you taking this too seriously?"
"Robb," Arya complained and stomped at the ground. "I am not delicate, we're sparring so spar!"
Arya hurried toward her brother, he held up his sword to protect himself when she came charging towards him. If she wanted to grow serious Robb could do it, holding his sword out and blocking his sister's hit. Their swords clashed against each other and he began to advance, Arya backing away from him as Robb advanced. He swung his sword and they both got low, their eyes meeting as Robb smirked at his sister. Arya looked frustrated that he was taking their sparring so lightly, it was a frustration that Robb was going to warn her she should not have in battle.
Much of the crew watched on as the Stark siblings spared against each other. Dacey Mormont was impressed with the skills of Arya Stark and remembered suggesting to her mother all those years ago that they offer a place in their home for Arya Stark to become a ward of House Mormont. Most of the crew was impressed as Arya Stark kept up the pace against her brother, not tiring once or asking for the fight to stop. She was the one who urged the fighting on, the one who seemed more likely to continue to fight.
Their blades clashed against each other again and Arya advanced, swinging her sword and Robb jumped back. His sister was an aggressive fighter and Robb could not help the grin that spread across his face. A raven had been sent to his mother in Riverrun after Arya had been found, he hoped his mother would be grateful that her daughter was alive. In his distraction, Robb tripped and fell backwards against the deck. He looked up only to have Arya holding a blade to his throat and smirking down at him.
"I would suggest watching where you're going next time Robb," Arya tapped his chin with the blunt edge of the blade before pulling it back and sheathing it.
Robb let out a loud laugh and stood up, he dropped the sword on the deck and wrapped his arms tightly around his sister. She was light and small enough to swing around in his arms and he continued to laugh. He dropped her to her feet and she looked at him in shock, only to stumble on her own feet due to her dizziness. Robb reached down and picked up his sword, sheathing it and shaking his head at his sister. He was so proud and could only imagine how proud his parents would be of her.
"I've missed you Arya," he smiled at her. "It is good to know that you are back."
"Alright," Arya studied him. "Are you okay Robb?"
"Never better," he rolled back his shoulders. "All my siblings are alive and well. I am going to get us back the North when we dock in Meereen. What's not to be happy about?"
"You're insane," Arya shook her head and looked to Dacey Mormont. "Can I spar you?"
"Are you not tired little wolf?" Dacey asked, turning the page of her book she looked up from.
Dacey Mormont was truly a romantic at heart as her book contained verses of Dornish poetry that was both romantic and sensual. Robb liked the contrast of one of his most trusted companions as she was a woman who could easily carve a man to pieces with her blade yet she enjoyed the finer things in life. She was a lady that could never turn down a dance and did not object to wearing dresses as dresses suited her just as fine as her armour. She was also a woman with girlish dreams, dreams of a husband who loved her just as much as the men in her poetry loved their women.
"Of course I'm not tired," Arya spat. "If Robb wasn't such an old man we could go for a few hours more."
"Old man!" Robb's voice rose, "Old man our lady says!" He turned to his men, "What say you to my sister?"
"Robb," Dacey laughed and glided along the deck, she had passed her book to Smalljon who peered at one of the pages. His cheeks that were not covered by his black beard coloured and he closed the book quickly. "I will accept the challenge of Lady Arya," she bowed mockingly.
"Don't call me Lady," Arya snapped and jerked her chin up in the air. "I'm much more than a lady."
"Right you are," Dacey cocked her head to the side as she pulled out her sword and Arya followed. "I had forgotten that now your brother is our King that it makes you our Princess." Dacey's eyes sparked with mischief as Arya's chest puffed up.
"P-Princess!" Arya spluttered and held up her sword, "Oh I will show you a Princess, Dacey Mormont!" She then proceeded to charge at the older woman who side stepped her.
Robb laughed, shaking his head as he went to take Dacey Mormont's place beside Smalljon. His friend then proceeded to open up Lady Mormont's book again and peer at the content on the page he had read. Once again a flush hurried up his cheeks and he had to close the book again, only curiosity got the better of Smalljon and he found himself reading intently. Robb was much too busy watching his sister and Dacey spar against each other, parrying their hits. Arya was not terrible but under Dacey's guidance she'd become an even fiercer warrior.
"Can you believe this, Your Grace?" Smalljon exclaimed, tapping his King's arm. "Can you believe the filth Lady Dacey reads?"
"I have told you to call me Robb, Smalljon," Robb reminded his friend only to look over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"
"'He touched her petals and she bloomed'," Smalljon read, eyes wide in amazement. "This is filth, utter filth. Why would anyone have such words for a cunt? Just get to the bloody point."
"It is poetry," Robb snickered at his friend.
"It's shite that's what it is," Smalljon scoffed. "'Love garden', 'his rod of passion', 'the hard steel'."
"Lady Dacey is going to spar you next if you continue to read her Dornish poetry," Robb couldn't wait for the moment Lady Dacey stopped battling his sister to witness Smalljon.
"Right," Smalljon closed the book with a snap. "But the Dornish, I get they're very lustful but a cunt is a cunt, a cock a cock. What is this lady garden business?"
"They are trying to find more romantic words to appeal to a large audience," Robb explained before shrugging his shoulders. "I suppose it is meant for only a certain audience."
"Pansies and women," Smalljon snorted.
"Well done Arya," the two men turned their head to the two women who were shaking hands. "However, I would be happy to teach you better techniques if you would like?"
A grin spread across Arya Stark's face and she pulled her hand away to sheath her sword. "I'd love to," she then turned to sneer at her older brother. "Do you hear that Robb?"
"I heard it," Robb yanked the book from Smalljon's hands as he noticed the man was attempting to read it again. "Here Dacey," he handed it to the woman and her cheeks flushed.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Dacey murmured and hurried away from the siblings in embarrassment.
"I suppose Mother will be disappointed," Arya crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at her brother.
"I do not see how she could be disappointed," Robb smiled at her. "She will be glad that you are safe and well. That all her children are safe and well. I have sent a raven to Mother."
"I know," Arya smiled up at her brother. "I hope… I hope to be with them soon."
"And we will be," Robb vowed. "After this meeting with Queen Daenerys."
King Robb Stark was led into the throne room of the highest pyramid structure in Meereen. There sat a woman that paled in comparison to the rumours of the Dragon Queen. She was a woman who sat upon a throne and Robb Stark could only assume that he was a disappointment to her as well. He straightened his shoulders, as did Dacey Mormont and Greatjon Umber who flanked him. He studied the Queen as she studied him and he stepped forward only to take a deep vow, he would show her respect as he expected respect back.
Once he stood he was allowed nearer and it was there that he got a better look at the Queen. She was a year younger than he yet still appeared youthful with pale, smooth skin. She was covered by a deep blue dress that complimented her colouring well. She was very beautiful, her silvery strands of hair curling around her shoulders as she sat with her back straight. Robb Stark could see men fighting wars over the woman, she held a captivating beauty that was almost unearthly. He tore his eyes away from her to study the companions.
The first companion was a man that stood to the right of Robb Stark, one of the famed Unsullied he presumed. The man had dark skin and a head shaved, revealing his naked, black scalp to Robb. He was taller than Robb but thinner, yet Robb somehow doubted he would managed to win against the man in a battle. His lips were pressed together and he stared on ahead like a good soldier, revealing no opinion and holding his spear tightly as he waited for orders from his Queen. Robb Stark was impressed and he had been impressed as the Unsullied had led him to their Queen.
Standing on the right of the Queen was a woman with skin a shade or two paler than the Unsullied man who stood at the base of the steps. She also wore a dress of deep blue that complimented her colour. The woman appeared beautiful to Robb Stark's eyes, her skin was also smooth and she appeared youthful. Her hair was tamed by a band that matched the colour of her dress and her hair was dark in colour. Robb appreciated beautiful women like the next man but noticed the woman shifting uncomfortably under his face.
So Robb tore his gaze away from the woman and landed on the last companion on the left of the Queen. This companion stood much closer to her and stared at Robb, unfriendly. He was a large man with skin shades lighter than the woman beside the Queen but still much darker than the Queen. His hair was long and fell to his thighs, braided with beads woven into his hair. He also had a thick beard that was tapered, a bead holding the end of it together. He wore dark eye makeup around his eyes and his torso was bare, only paint marks like scars adorned his pectoral muscles.
"Robb Stark," the voice of the Queen was surprisingly deep for a female. "Or should I say, King Robb Stark as you have declared yourself as King?"
"Queen Daenerys Targaryen," Robb attempted to give her his most charming, disarming smile. "It is an honour to meet you."
"I am sure it is," she studied him. "Yet your family were traitors to my Father, they slaughtered him. And yet you stand before me asking for an alliance?"
"We cannot help the past, Your Grace," Robb opened his hands. "Only shape the future."
"And how do I know you will not betray me?" She sneered. "They claim your Father was an honourable man, only he went to war against my family."
"We should let the past lie," Robb Stark was growing irritated. "Yet, may I remind you my family only joined the rebellion after Prince Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped my aunt Lady Lyanna Stark and your Father killed my Grandfather Lord Rickon Stark and Uncle, Lord Brandon Stark."
"There are faults that lie on both sides of the war," that seemed enough to have Queen Daenerys drop her accusations. "Yet you stand before me, declared King of the North when I want my kingdoms together. All seven of them."
"I was declared King Robb Stark of the North in a time of great turmoil for my people," Robb Stark told her calmly. "Yet I believe the North should remain absent from outside rule. We should be independent from the crown."
"I want my kingdoms together," the Queen snapped. "I will not have them any other way."
"Then I fear I have wasted our times," Robb Stark took a step back and went to bow to the Queen.
"You do not want your North back?" She asked, voice raising.
He smirked, he had her eating out of the palm of his hand. "I do, yet I will manage to find another way if I can keep the North independent."
Queen Daenerys pressed her lips together, "I need your support. Your fleet. I know of your success in cuckolding the false King," she placed her hands in her lap. "If you do not bend the knee to me and turn your people over to me I will introduce you to my dragons."
"My Queen," a nervous man suddenly spoke up. "I do not think that wise. The North is numerous, to make an enemy out of them will only make it that much harder to win over the Seven Kingdoms."
"The Westerosi man does have a point," Robb Stark guessed it was Ser Barristan Selmy who was acting as Hand of the Queen. "If you were to kill me know that the North would die by fire than hand themselves over to you."
"But I will not have my kingdoms fractured," she was growing frustrated now. "I want them all placed together."
"Then I cannot help you," Robb Stark gave her mock sympathy. "Apologies, Queen Daenerys, for deceiving you."
"Wait," she called. "If I were to give you the North to reign independently, as King," she was disgruntled by the word. "Will you swear the North will come to our aid?"
"For all future generations as long as the Crown keeps its word," Robb studied her.
"Good," a smile appeared on the woman's face. "Then we will agree on the best way to go about this. One of my people will become your Queen if the North is to rule separately."
"No," Robb was adamant he would at least make his own choice in his bride.
"Shame," Queen Daenerys looked down at her nails, "I suppose Drogon has developed quite the taste for human flesh, has he not Drogo?" The man grunted something in a language Robb did not understand.
"Wait," Robb held up his own hands. "Is this the only way the North will be guaranteed to be independent?"
"Yes," Queen Daenerys laid out her palm flat, "Unless you were to claim it over my dead body," instantly everyone in the room reached for weapons, "But I fear that is not possible as you will be slaughtered where you stand."
Robb's shoulders slumped, "Then we are in agreement. I will marry one of your people and back your cause, in return I remain King of the North."
"We are agreed," Queen Daenerys turned to the woman and said something in a language Robb did not understand once again. "You will be led to your chambers King Stark and we will get your betrothed ready for you."
It took years of training and everything within Robb Stark for him not to glare, scream and throw himself to her dragons. Robb Stark had weaselled his way out of a betrothal to one of Walder Frey's daughters or granddaughters, only to find himself forced into a marriage anyway. Though, what was worse? To marry a woman he had no idea about or have Walder Frey as a relative? Robb Stark straightened his shoulders and nodded at Queen Daenerys, taking a bow before turning and following one of the Unsullied who would lead them to their chambers.
"What the hell were you thinking Robb?" Arya suddenly demanded as they stepped out of the throne room.
"I was thinking that we needed to get our home back," he narrowed his eyes on his sister. "Better me than you."
Arya said nothing, her lips were pressed together tightly as they were split from each other. And it was good that it was not Arya, his mother had promised his sister to one of Walder Frey's many children or grandchildren. When he finally took over Winterfell he was going to break his contracts with Walder Frey, he was going to make sure the man never attempted to get something from the Starks ever again. Robb stepped into his chambers and pressed his head against the door, he just really did not want to be marrying someone not of his choosing.
Together, Robb sat with four of his companions in a garden as they waited for Queen Daenerys and her entourage. Smalljon was already in his cups whilst his father toyed with his beard, watching the Unsullied who stood not too far from them suspiciously. Robb looked to his sister who sat in pants and a tunic, hair loose and it fell in soft curls just below her shoulder. She was watching the Unsullied too, a glare on her face as she looked at them. Dacey was reading through her little book of poetry again, biting down on a slice of apple that had been left in front of them.
"Robb," Arya turned to her brother, "You have seriously agreed to marry any woman she chooses for you?"
"As long as she is not a child, yes," Robb Stark sighed heavily. "Would you rather we lose the North even further?"
"No," Arya frowned.
"Then do not argue with me Arya," Robb held his hand up to his sister. "If this marriage will allow the North to remain independent than I will do it. And I would rather marry a woman, than have you or Rickon be forced into a marriage."
Robb was, unfortunately, failing to see that his younger siblings were not so young anymore. Sansa was twenty and five, yet she was already married and was yet to give up on her marriage to Lord Tyrion Lannister. Arya was twenty and three, a woman young enough to marry but old enough that she should have married years ago. Bran, if he ever returned, was twenty and two, a man grown. He could have been a warrior, a knight, had he the use of his legs. And then there was Rickon, no longer a boy – he was ten and eight, a man old enough to marry.
"Here she comes," Greatjon Umber murmured and stood, smiling at the Queen as she made her way toward them.
Queen Daenerys was much smaller than Robb pictured but she was not tiny, she was just dwarfed by her large husband who stood behind her. He had a menacing glare that was enough to have Robb wish that he had chosen to be engulfed by dragon fire. The Queen came to a stop in front of him as did her entourage, she placed her hands in front of her stomach and studied him. It was a little hard to believe she had birthed three sons and her oldest was ten and one, she did not look old enough to have a boy that was nearly a man grown.
"Queen Daenerys," Robb could only offer his most charming smile. "I suppose my betrothed has been chosen?"
"Yes," Queen Daenerys straightened her shoulders. "I have a good feeling about our future, King Robb."
"As do I," Robb's eyes curiously ran over the women that surrounded the Queen. Which one of them was it? He was curious and he was a man, he wanted his wife to at least be somewhat attractive.
"Excuse us," she then said to her entourage but allowed her husband to come closer to her. The horse lord stood at least head and shoulders taller than his wife.
"Is there a problem with the betrothal?" Robb was curious as it seemed the woman was not amongst the Queen's entourage.
"She is yet to arrive," the Queen pursed her lips. "But I suppose I should allow you some knowledge. I have chosen a woman of the Dothraki."
Robb Stark was confused, as were his companions, "A Dothraki?"
"They are loyal," the Queen grew defensive over her people.
It was conflicting, a Dothraki bride for Robb Stark. His mother would be furious especially as she had not been at the wedding and it was not the wife she would see as ideal for her first-born son. He could imagine his men and his people, the reluctance to have an outsider rule as their Queen. Yet Robb could not back out, not when he was so close to having the North back. He could not wait for the Bolton Bastard to taste his steel and to rebuild Winterfell, to renew his legacy once again.
"Loyal," Greatjon Umber grumbled from the seat beside his son. "They are savages."
"Jon," Robb snapped, he did not want to upset Queen Daenerys.
He turned to watch as she breathed in deeply, "They do not have very good opinions of you either." She touched the bicep of her husband and he immediately looked down at her, expression softening. "My husband does not want to give up one of his people to you but he knows what this means for our alliance."
"As do I," Robb Stark straightened his shoulders. "I will marry the lady of your choosing."
Queen Daenerys bowed her head forward, turning to her husband to slip into a language that could only be assumed as Dothraki. It was clear the Queen and her husband were in love, with the way they looked at each other and touched each other. Even the way they moved proved they held a deep love for one another that could simply not be competed with. Robb Stark knew his mother and father had a marriage much like that once, when he had been alive. Robb wondered if he could have such a future with his new wife, but pushed the thought out of his mind.
A figure came running toward them and they came to a stop, blinking at the two before them before nodding in their direction. It was a woman with light brown skin and a toned body. Her arms were revealed in the brown cloth she wore, it could only be described as cloth as it really only covered her breasts and left the rest of her tone abdomen bared. Her waist tapered out into round hips that were covered by cloth trousers so similar to the brown cloth around her breasts. She was every bit Dothraki, from what Robb observed.
The woman had an oval face with a prominent nose, it was upturned a little at the end. Her lips were between full and thin, not too large but not too small and a deep pink colour. Her eyes were what caught him the most, though her body was mostly revealed to him, a black colour, Robb had never seen such eyes before. And they were framed by thick, long lashes that looked out of place on her. Long curls fell from her head the colour of black, competing against the stark, dark holes that were her eyes.
Strangely, she was beautiful though there was something savage and wild about her. Yet it was the same feeling he got when he looked at the Queen's horse lord so he knew they were of the same tribe. He gulped and looked toward his family and friends who were each studying the woman who arrived. Robb could have easily brushed off her presence had Queen Daenerys not suddenly moved to her and spoken the Dothraki tongue. The woman's eyes met his sharply and she studied him slowly, taking in every single stitching in his clothing and every single pore as she did so.
"King Robb Stark," Queen Daenerys laid a hand on the shoulder of the woman. "This is Zhalli, daughter of Ifakko and your future bride."
The woman stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. "He is small," she said which was amusing coming from her. The woman came up to Robb's shoulders and whilst their height different was not as drastic as Queen Daenerys and her husband, it was not insignificant. He still stood head and half his shoulders above her.
"Not all Westerosi men are large," Queen Daenerys then frowned, looking to Smalljon and Greatjon who were both well over seven foot.
Zhalli, his betrothed, looked at the two men. "They look stronger," she then turned to her Queen. "Khaleesi, I will break him."
Greatjon let out a laugh that was loud enough to wake the dead, "Ye will not break our King lassie, many have tried and many have failed."
Confusion crossed her face but she turned away from Greatjon, "When will we be married?" She still studied him but betrayed no emotion, the question directed toward Queen Daenerys.
"As soon as possible," Queen Daenerys looked to Robb Stark. "Is that not agreeable?"
"It is agreeable," he then muttered and felt he had made the wrong decision.
