In the next two weeks that passed, Robb issued massive reforms that saw the political shape of Westeros begin to drastically change. Houses who had attended court to Joffrey and Robert Baratheon were dismissed from King's Landing en masse, removed from offices and titles they had corruptly acquired and replaced by Lords and Ladies loyal to Robb and to Margaery. Almost every Northern House had sent sons and daughters to attend a court they could finally stomach, a court of a Stark. By the time House Tyrell arrived for the royal wedding with their retainers, the royal court was comprised of mostly names that had fought for Robb since the early beginnings of the war.
Umbers, Manderlys, Rowans, Hightowers, Forresters, Karstarks, Vances, Glovers, Darrys, Estermonts, Carons, Martells, Tallharts, Redwynes, Brackens, Daynes, Pipers, Flints and the Royces of Runestone were just some amongst the many of noble names that Robb had called from across the Seven Kingdoms. He had chosen courtiers based on his past interactions with them, based on their loyalty during the war, based on their reputations of honor and conduct.
Robb Stark filled his court with learned men and women, wise lords, noble ladies, great knights and souls from across Westeros alike. He created a court of honor and chivalry never seen in King's Landing since the days of Aegon the Fifth.
The night before the wedding House Tyrell and the Royal House Stark of King's Landing were dining with their closest companions and vassals in the Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand, a magnificent hall that housed 200 comfortably. Robb and Margaery sat at the high table, with Jon and the rest of the family to his right and Margaery's family to her left. Ser Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth stood guard before the high table, along with the two latest members of their elite sworn brotherhood; Ser Robar Royce, second son of Lord Bronze Yohn of Runestone and Ser Ethan Forrester, third son of Lord Gregor the Good of Ironrath. While the rest of the tables were filled with merry Northmen and Reachmen celebrating their coming union together. Robb himself was doing his best to be engaged with his future family, rather than just being focused on Margaery, who looked absolutely stunning that evening.
The sounds of bards and their harps were mixed with the raucous yelling of the reveling guests, Robb had to raise his voice to speak across Margaery to her father.
"I hope you and your sons, brothers and nephews will do my House the great honor of breaking our fast together before the ceremony. According to the new High Septon, it is tradition." Robb called, causing Mace to bluster proudly.
"Of course, Your Grace. My House would gratefully accept such an invitation his highness-." Mace was cut off by Willas Tyrell who leaned over to speak, having listened to the conversation from beside his father
"What happened to the old High Septon?" Willas called to Robb and Margaery who exchanged a bemused look.
"When Robb commissioned a force of Grey Cloaks to take control and establish order in the brothels along the Street of Silk, the old High Septon was found patroning one of the establishments. The Most Devout elected a new Septon at Robb's behest almost immediately." Margaery explained to her elder brother who nodded, before leaning across his father once more.
"Grey Cloaks?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The new name for the City Watch. We did away with the unnecesarry uniforms, now the men wear grey ringmail with half-helms and grey cloaks bearing Robb's sigil." Margaery explained with a smile, gesturing to the new banners that adorned the Small Hall. Robb's new standard was a fierce crowned direwolf's head in grey on a field that two-thirds white and a third pale green. While Bran and the Starks of Winterfell would retain the historic direwolf running across a plain white field, Robb knew he would need his own banners. The crown around the direwolf's neck represented the royal standing of the House, and the pale green running along the bottom was a tribute to Margaery's Tyrell blood, for together they would found the new House that would fly these banners for a thousand years to come.
The night progressed happily, with a somewhat drunken Garlan Tyrell coming to kneel behind Margaery and Robb's chairs with his head bowed.
"It would be –hic- my great honor…to serve you," he kissed Margaery's cheek "And you," he threw an arm around Robb affectionately "As your Master-at-Arms. I promise that our children will learn the arts of war together." Garlan grinned, causing Robb to laugh and Margaery to shake her head and press her forehead into her palm.
"Garlan…back to Leonette, now. Go on. There's a good Garlan." Margaery coaxed of her elder brother who beamed before rising to return to his wife, who looked somewhat horrified at her husband's actions and mouthed apologies across the table to Margaery and Robb who waved them away good-naturedly.
After that however, something most interesting happened, as a young man, lean and muscled, with brown hair and a full moustache kneeled before the high table with an escort of two Stark guards in front of him. Robb, for a moment, did not recognize the man until he saw the sigil six white shells on the man's doublet. Ser Raynald Westerling, Heir to the Crag.
Raynald had yielded the Crag to Robb's forces before the Northmen had even arrived, pledging House Westerling to the Northern cause in defiance of his mother and uncles. In exchange, Raynald's father was treated with honor in the Northern stockades, where he had been languishing since the Battle of Whispering Wood. Raynald had fought at the Wall and even at the Iron Islands, where he had earned the respect of the Northmen around him and the attention of King Robb.
"Ser Raynald, your attendance tonight is welcome." Robb said courteously to the Western knight who smiled and bowed.
"I thank you, Your Grace. Though I admit that is not why I have come before you today." Raynald said, rising from his kneel and earning the attention of the high table and some of the guests near the front of the hall.
"No? Pray tell, Ser Raynald." Robb said, leaning forward as Margaery eyed the knight curiously.
"Your Grace, when the War of the Five Kings descended upon the Westerlands, I was the first of the Western Lords to yield and declare for you. I sent my House's men and resources to your cause, and I even fought beside you on the shores of Pyke and Blacktyde." Raynald said, as the high table listened intently.
"Through my experience…I gained true loyalty for you, as my King. I have come before you today to ask one thing, most humbly of His Grace."
"And what is that, Ser Raynald?" Robb asked, tilting his head to listen closely.
"A place in your Kingsguard. I wish to foresake my birthright as Heir to the Crag, and I wish to serve as one of your loyal seven. My sword and my life are yours, if you will have them Your Grace." Raynald declared, earning a silence from the high table. Margaery and Robb exchanged a look, before Robb curled his lips in thought.
"Ser Raynald, of all the Westernmen I know, you have been the truest to the Northern cause. But yet, I am forced to ask…why would you foresake lordship, a wife and children to serve me?" Robb leaned forward on the table to clasp his hands, the eyes of the Tyrells and the Starks flicked from the King to the knight standing before them who remained silent for a few long minutes.
"Because I believe in you." Raynald finally said, his voice fierce with sincerity. Robb nodded, clearly impressed.
"You will serve as my guard, Ser Raynald, so that I and my Kingsguard can evaluate you for service. When we have deemed you worthy of the White Cloak, I shall name you to the noble order." Robb said, causing the knight to nod and smile.
"I shall not fail you." Raynald Westerling promised, placing his fist over his heart to bow before Robb once more.
The Young Wolf raised his goblet to exchange a look with Margaery who smiled at him encouragingly, before Robb took a deep drink of water. He could not afford to be entirely out of his wits that evening, nor bedridden for what the morning would bring.
Outside the castle and beyond the walls of the Red Keep, a haphazard band of thirty in mismatched armor and carrying fallen weapons marched through the city towards the castle. They all followed two men, one clad in a red robe and the other in a dull brown.
"Ye' sure we should be doin' this?" came a nervous question from one of their followers behind them, earning nothing but silence.
"Thoros, c'mon! Surely even you see this is madness! To stride in to the King's Court the night before his wedding, he'll have us hanged!" the man pressed, hurrying forward to stand between the red-robed man he called Thoros and the brown-robed man who remained silent.
"You can leave if you want, once our business is done I don't think we'll have much use for you anyway." The red-robed man said, his voice alive with humor as he turned his head to let his red hood fall off and reveal his face. Thoros of Myr, once a companion to Lord Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord.
"Sod this." The follower spat, turning on his heel to march away from the group towards the Street of Silk.
"He'll be missed." Thoros grinned, looking to his companion who remained stoically silent.
"Not a talker are you." Thoros sighed, pulling a flask from his side to uncork it and take a deep swig of wine. His companion turned his head to have the moonlight bounce of his full white beard.
"Do not be drunk when we address the King."
"I'm better drunk, trust me." Thoros said with a grimace as he finished his wine. The party approached the gates of the castle that were guarded by men in grey-ringmail, half-helms and cloaks.
"Halt! The castle is closed to the public today. For any matters of grievance return the day after tomorrow." The Commander of the Grey Cloaks called, stepping forward to place his hand on his sword.
"I believe that the King will want to see me now." The white-bearded stranger said, causing the Grey Cloaks to look curiously at the man.
"And why is that, ser?" the man looked up to pull his hood back, his identity caused the Commander to go wide-eyed and step aside.
"Let this man through." The Commander said, his voice hoarse with awe.
"Commander-…?" one of his subordinates asked in confusion.
"Silence. This man, and this man alone." The Commander said, causing the rag-tag group of men behind them to groan and complain loudly as they dispersed to the streets of the city.
"I will need this red-clad drunk to follow me." The white-bearded man sighed, nodding his head to Thoros of Myr who simply grinned at the Grey Cloaks.
"I will also need an escort to see the King." The white-bearded man declared, prompting the Commander to nod at once.
"I will take you, Ser." The Commander said, turning on his heel to walk into the courtyard before yelling over his shoulder "Talbot, you have command of the gate. Let no-one through."
The minstrels had begun a spirited tune that caused many to dance in the middle of the Small Hall. Robb and Margaery had just breathlessly returned to rest at the high table from the floor, when the doors to the Small Hall opened. None in attendance truly paid attention, until the three men clad in grey, red and brown respectively waded their way through the crowd towards the high table. Robb had been grinning at something Margaery said when he saw his betrothed's eyes narrow in confusion at something behind him. Robb turned to see the Grey Cloak commander bowing before the high table.
"Your Grace, my Prince and Princesses, my lords and ladies, I beg your forgiveness for interrupting you tonight. I know that I was given orders to hold the gate, but I thought that…given the circumstances, you would wish to meet this man at once." The Grey Cloak rose to step aside and let Ser Barristan Selmy step forward to stand before King Robb Stark, who rose slowly from his seat in shock at the legend before him.
"Ser Barristan…my Gods…" Robb breathed, his actions having gained the attention of the Small Hall at large, who silenced to see the proceedings before them.
"Your Grace, it is my honor to have your audience. You do not know me, but I was Kingsguard since before you were born. I served when your lord father, the honorable Lord Eddard Stark was Hand of the King, and I shamefully admit, I served when he was wrongfully imprisoned for treason." Barristan said, earning some gasps and whispers from the crowd. Robb's features hardened momentarily as he nodded for the knight to continue
"When your father needed me most, I clung to my vows to a false King. When he needed my justice, I was told to go into hiding, for the Lannister men I killed in my escape from the city would surely have put a price on my head. When I emerged…I was told that you had taken King's Landing. I resolved then to do what I should have done years ago; I resolved to serve a true king." Barristan declared, stepping closer to the table to hold Robb's gaze.
"I have been searching for you ever since, my King, to ask your forgiveness…" Barristan said with a sad bow of his head.
"I should have protected your father as he was Protector of the Realm, a good man, an honorable man…and my friend. Instead I failed him…and you." Barristan sighed, before taking a kneel before Robb.
"Allow me to join your Kingsguard, and I will not fail you again." Barristan promised, raising his head to look up at Robb who looked completely at a loss for words. He parted his lips to look from Ser Barristan, to Jon, to Margaery.
"Your Grace, I would happily resign my commission as Lord Commander for Ser Barristan. The man has experience that no man…or woman…in the Kingsguard holds. I would gladly serve under a man of such experience." Loras said suddenly, filling the lull that had followed Barristan Selmy's speech. Loras's words drew calls from the crowd in support of Barristan the Bold, the greatest living knight in the Seven Kingdoms. Robb took a deep breath, drowning out the noise around him to look into the kind, grandfatherly face of Ser Barristan Selmy. Though there were laugh lines on his face, they were also edged with a wordly experience that he had only seen on his great-uncle Brynden the Blackfish. Stood before Robb was a man who managed to kill half-a-dozen corrupt Gold Cloaks with only a dagger. Robb's father had always spoken highly of the man, and the Young Wolf could not fault a Kingsguard for remaining loyal to his vows.
"I would gladly welcome you to my Kingsguard as Lord Commander, Ser Barristan the Bold." Robb smiled, causing Ser Barristan to bow his head in relief as his eyes began to well slightly as the Small Hall cheered behind him.
"Thank you, Your Grace…I will never fail you." Barristan promised before rising from his kneel to give Robb a smile of sincere warmth.
"I know you won't, Ser. I am sure you still have armor in the White Sword Tower, go don and it and return to assume your post here before me." Robb said with a nod of encouragement, before settling back into his seat with a smile.
"A very wise move, my love." Margaery said quietly to Robb, leaning over to hold his hand. Robb smiled at her in return before bringing the back of her hand to his lips.
"What more do you think will happen tonight?" Robb asked with a sigh, causing Margaery to laugh.
From the view of the birds overhead, King's Landing was a sprawling mass of flickering golden spots of light. Windows, torches, candles and fires illuminated the great capital city of Westeros as midnight approached. The Grey Cloaks who stood guard vigilantly around the city watched as their breath rose before them in mist. Robb Stark, the Wolf King, stood on his pavilion looking out at King's Landing in semi-wonder.
Tomorrow he would be a married man. While the thought of being with Margaery did not frighten him, the concern of whether he would be a good husband did. Would he be affectionate enough? Or would he do it too much? Would he be too withdrawn, or too open? Would he drive her into the arms of another man, as many Kings had done to their Queens?
He took a shaky breath in the cool night air. It was only then that Robb realized how cold it was in King's Landing. He looked overheard to see a clear night's sky, but felt a strong wind from the North. The cold winds.
"Winter is coming." Robb muttered to himself wryly, before returning to his solar to sit on his large four poster bed, the Royal Bed that he and Margaery had once already christened in passion. Since Loras had interrupted them, Margaery and Robb had decided to abstain until their wedding night, something that had proved difficult for both of them.
They had been apart for months, and had only spent one night together as man and woman, the memory of which had only grown sweeter in their young hormonal minds. When Margaery had left Robb's side that evening, she had promised him that the court would not see them for at least a day. Robb had merely flushed and nodded stupidly.
In Margaery's chambers down the hallway to the right, the Princess-Consort was similarly awake in her bed, thinking of what was to come tomorrow. Margaery rolled over in her bed with a sigh, she and Robb had spent four or five nights together simply sleeping in each other's embrace, for they had both agreed it would be better to wait until they were wed to unleash these noises that Loras claimed they made. In those night, she had gotten used to Robb's warm arms around her, or her arms around his broad chest, and the feeling of security she had whenever she fell asleep with him. She knew that her new life…her future was only one sleep away, but the anxiety and butterflies coursing through her stomach made it feel like the dawn would never come.
Margaery thought of the first time she saw Robb, and how she thought that the young Stark heir was…delicious. But she had known that she could never touch him, she was a Queen then.
Then they had spent a night together talking. Simply talking, and Margaery thought she started to feel things for him then. She thought of the time they spent together dancing around Renly and Loras and the rules of nobility, until finally she had realized how she could have everything she wanted. Robb and the Crown.
She'd always thought she wanted the Crown more than anything, that ruling as Queen and shaping Westeros for the better was all that mattered. That was until she fell for the Young Wolf, who fell as equally in love with her.
She thought about how Robb respected her more than she had seen a lord respect his lady, she thought of how wise he was, of how good and just. And she thought, as sleep finally came to her, of how much she looked forward to ruling by his side as Margaery Stark, Queen of Westeros.
Author's Note: Wedding bells are coming :D
Please, please do review!
