It had only been a matter of days, but upon Robb's return to King's Landing, he could already see that the news of a tournament had begun to spread. They had passed a stream of hedge knights, merchants and artisans on their way down the Roseroad, all clearly bound for the festivities and promise of potential glory and wealth. Outside the capital, tents, pavilions and stalls had already been erected, and swarms of people were congregating around them. Campfires were blazing and the echo of blacksmith hammers crashing into fired steel echoed in the air.
Once inside the city, Robb and Jory had been hard-pressed to manage their mounts through the teaming streets. Robb breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found himself safely enclosed within the walls of the Red Keep. He was barely off of his horse, when he noticed a blur of grey fur out of the corner of his eye. He turned and tried to stand his ground, but Grey Wind thundered into him, knocking him onto his behind. The wolf playfully nipped at him, as Robb ran his hand through his fur.
"I figured that was why he was acting so excitedly," a voice said from behind them. Robb turned and saw Jon with Ghost at his side. "I think he may have frightened half the Keep on the way here. A poor serving girl nearly through herself out of window."
"Sorry, boy," Robb said to his companion, patting the animal's head. "Next time you come along."
"How was Highgarden?" Jon inquired, making his way closer.
"It lives up to its name," Robb answered. "Very colorful, beautiful to see."
"Aye, Robb found the sights very beautiful," Jory chuckled as he grabbed the reigns to Robb's mount. "I had to practically drag the poor lad away."
"What's this he's talking about Robb?"
"Nothing," Robb attempted to evade. Jory wouldn't allow it.
"Our young Robb here, found himself smitten with the young Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. Not that I can blame him, really."
"You're gone a few days and you fall in love with some southern lord's daughter? As a northerner, I'm offended," Jon, mocked.
"I'm not in love," Robb protested, feebly.
"Certainly in lust," Jory called back as he took his and Robb's horses to the stables.
"We should have left him in Winterfell," Robb grumbled. "Anyway, what kept you occupied while we were gone?"
"This place has been mad since you left, so I mainly tried to stay out of the way of it all. I did get to train with several of the knights who are here for the tourney, though," Jon explained. "You still mean to compete?"
"Aye. I think I'll take my chances in the joust or the melee, but not both. You're a fine archer, Jon, you should enter the tourney yourself."
"I don't think so," Jon declined. "I'll leave it to you claim glory for Winterfell. Or are you more concerned of showing yourself well in front of Lady Margaery?"
"There is no reason I cannot accomplish both," Robb grinned.
"Well, I'm glad you're so confident. I wouldn't be so sure of myself if it was I riding against the likes of Jaime Lannister and Gregor Clegane. Have you seen that man? He's appropriately referred to as the Mountain. If I didn't know better I'd say the giants had made it south of the Wall."
"Size does not always mean victory," Robb advised.
"No, but it does make things considerably easier," Jon countered. "I suppose you must go inform the King you've returned?"
"That would probably be wise," Robb agreed. "However, I doubt he has any great need of me at the moment. I'm sure he would not mind if we went and explored the festivities for a bit. In fact, I'm almost certain he would encourage it."
"I'm sure the King would agree to anything that involved drinking, fighting and eating," Jon grinned. "Oh, and don't forget the whoring."
"No, cannot forget the whores. Well, then let's take a look around the madness before this place is truly overrun."
Robb had survived on meager rations on the journey back from Highgarden, so their first objective had been to find somewhere with hot food. Luckily, that had been not hard to find. As soon as they had left the Keep, they ran into a tavern. The owner had set up a large fire out front and was turning a whole pig slowly on a spit. Robb's mouth was practically watering as the smell of cooking meat entered his nose. Makeshift tables had been erected outside using any spare boards the tavern keeper could find, which was where Robb and Jon sat themselves.
An older woman with white and grey hair tide messily back approached them immediately as they sat. "What can I get you handsome boys? We've got mead and ale…some wine as well. It's nothing fancy, but it will do the trick if your thirsty enough."
"I think we will hold off on the wine, miss, but we will have two cups of ale and two helpings of the pig," Robb requested, laying out some coin on the table.
The woman reached down, scooped up the necessary coins, and was off without another word to get their order. Soon enough, two platters of smoking pork were lying before them, and they dug into it heartily. It was nothing fancy, but Robb greatly enjoyed the feast nonetheless. After two cups of ale each, he and Jon found themselves wandering the streets once again, bellies full and spirits high.
They occasionally stopped to see a fool or troop of singers who found a secluded corner in which to perform, before they eventually found themselves walking down the Street of Steel. Robb had to fight the urge to stop and pick up every piece of finely crafted steel that they passed. Some of it was purely practical, and other pieces were so ornate that he couldn't ever imagine ever using it, other than to flaunt his wealth. Honestly, who needed a sword wrapped in gold? They were walking past one particular shop where Robb noticed a young man, probably around his own age, wiping down the blade of a newly shaped long sword. Above the man, hung a helm like none Robb had ever seen. It looked like it had been shaped into a bull's head.
"That one took me ages," the man said suddenly, surprising Robb. "Master Mott would only let me work on it on my own time. Seeing as I barely have any of my own time…"
"It's fine work," Jon said from his side.
"It is," Robb agreed. "Why the bull?"
The man shrugged. "Just struck my fancy, is all. What are lords such as yourselves doing down here if I may ask? Not too often we get highborn visitors to our shop. Though, last time it was the Hand of the King."
"Jon Arryn was here?" Robb questioned
"Yes, right before his death."
"Did he come to buy armor?"
The man shook his head. "No, he just wanted to talk. It was strange, really. He wanted to know about my mother, mostly, and asked how I was. He was really interested in me for some reason I couldn't tell you, m'lord. I'm just a common bastard from Flea Bottom."
"Maybe he was just interested in your work," Jon suggested.
"Actually, he didn't seem much attentive to it. Like I said, he really only seemed to be interested in me."
As the conversation went on with the young blacksmith, Robb could not help but feel that they had stumbled onto something significant. Why would Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, show such interest in a simple blacksmith's apprentice? Add to that, such a meeting outside the Red Keep would have been anything but secret. The second most important person in King's Landing roaming the streets would have drawn all sorts of wandering eyes… who in turn would have communicated the information to Varys or Baelish. Robb realized he had been caught in his thoughts when Jon gave him quick nudge.
"Anyway, that's about all I can tell you about the Hand. He was nice enough to me," the blacksmith explained. "M'lords wouldn't be in need of any armor would they?"
Robb's first inclination had been to decline, but then he thought again. He had no idea what was important about this man, but there was something there. This would provide an excuse to see him again, and also allay any suspicion from his and Jon's visit. "Well, I am planning on competing in the tourney, and my armor is rather close to being a relic. I suppose I could use a new set. How quickly could such a thing be ready?"
"Give me two days m'lord, and I'll make you the best armor in King's Landing."
"That's a lofty promise," Robb commented. "Do you know your houses and sigils?"
"The major ones m'lord."
"Well, my name is Robb Stark, and I'd like my House to reflected in my armor. I trust you know the Starks?"
"Of course, m'lord. Consider it done."
"It would probably help if I had your name as well," Robb stated.
"It's Gendry. m'lord."
"Well Gendry," Robb began, "for both of our sakes I think it would be wise if you didn't mention the first part of our conversation to anyone. I was just in need of some new armor, and I greatly admired your work."
"Did we speak of anything other than your purchase m'lord?" Gendry asked, clearly feigning confusion.
"Good man."
"Do you think you should send a raven to Father?" Jon asked Robb when they were out of earshot on their way back towards the Keep.
"And tell him what? All we know is Jon Arryn talked to Gendry before he died. It's certainly suspicious, but without more it doesn't mean anything."
"I think we are about to put ourselves in much more danger than we already are," Jon advised, nervously. "Just being in this place is a risk, but if we start digging…"
"We aren't going to dig, Jon. We just need to keep our ears open. It will be worth it if we figure out the fool who shoved Bran from that tower."
"I don't disagree, as long as we are quiet about it."
"It should be easier to blend in during the coming days with all of the festivities," Robb added. "Maybe with the right amount of wine, someone will spill secrets they shouldn't."
"Somehow I doubt it. These people have made an art of keeping secrets and stabbing others in the back."
The Tyrells had not wasted any time in preparing for their journey to King's Landing. Within two days of Robb's return, reports reached them that Mace Tyrell's party was making its approach. Much of the Keep had assembled outside to greet them, including the King, whom clearly did so grudgingly. In fact, most of the highborn residents of the Keep seemed to be irritated with the fact that they needed to treat Mace Tyrell with any sort of reverence.
The only person in attendance who seemed to show any measure of anticipation was Prince Joffrey, to Robb's chagrin. The Queen stood next to her son, arm laced through his own, as she occasionally whispered to him. Robb liked to think that he was so senseless that he needed constant reminders to breathe, however unlikely that was. If it was the case, he could only hope that she would forget. As he was in the middle of imagining other ways for the royal spawn to meet his demise, Robb's attention was drawn to the sound of approaching riders.
The first men into the keep were mounted Tyrell men bearing their standard, the golden rose waving in the wind. Next came Lord Tyrell himself, surrounded by his guard and several other knights who had accompanied their party. Ser Loras was among them, his armor gleaming in the daylight. At the end of the train came a large carriage, and instantly Robb found his attention drawn, anticipating who was likely inside. Sure enough, as it came to a stop and the door opened, Lady Margaery stepped down, looking more beautiful than ever in a perfectly fitted golden dress.
From the positioning of the carriage, Robb was directly in her line of sight when she disembarked. A bright smile adorned her face when she realized he was standing there, and he reciprocated. His eyes followed her even as she seemed to reluctantly make her way towards her Father who was busy exchanging pleasantries with the King.
"So that's her?" Jon whispered from beside him.
Robb's eyes were following the woman as she walked. "Yes, that is most definitely her."
"I suppose she's attractive for a southerner." Jon smirked when he saw Robb frown at him. "Or for anywhere really."
Robb was about to respond again, but he was stopped by the sight of the Queen pushing her son towards Margaery, from where she now stood with her father, next to the King. He felt every muscle in his body tense as the Prince reached for Margaery's hand and place a kiss on the back of it. He could practically see the ambitious mind of Mace Tyrell working, as he planned the elevation of his family even higher. What was worse, Robb could see no objection to the match on the King's face. Unable to stand the disheartening sight any longer, Robb proceeded to make his way out of the crowd.
"Where are you going?" Jon questioned.
"I'm going to check on the state of my new armor," Robb responded as he felt Jon following slightly behind him. "Then I'm going to the practice yard to hit something hard repeatedly."
"It's brilliant." Those were the only words that came to Robb's mind as he saw Gendry's work laid out on a table. The steel shined, and on the breastplate, a direwolf had been etched beautifully. Robb picked it up and was amazed at its lightness.
"Don't let the feel deceive you, m'lord," Gendry stated. "That's the strongest armor in King's Landing."
"Well I cannot wait to put that claim to the test Gendry, but this is certainly fine work." Robb handed over a bag of coin, while he and Jon began placing the armor into sack they could attach to the horse they had brought with them.
"If you have any other need for a blacksmith, come back and I'll take care of it," Gendry promised.
"We will be sure to do so," Robb answered. "I'm certain we will see each other again."
They loaded the armor onto the horse and began the trek back. Robb was eager to try it on and to begin getting the feel for it. However, about half way back to the Keep, something began to make him feel uneasy. It felt like someone was watching him. As casually as he could, glancing out of the corner of his eye, he looked behind. Sure enough, mixed in amongst the crowd was a figure in a dark grey cloak. Although a hood shrouded their face, Robb would swear the figure's eyes were tracking his movements. Turning his head back around, Robb warned his brother. "We're being followed."
Jon looked startled. "Are you sure?"
"Not completely, but I believe so. There's a man in a grey cloak behind us."
"What do you suggest? If he is on his own, I doubt he would make a move on two of us in the open."
Robb chanced another look back to confirm the figure was still following before answering. "As you say, he appears to be on his own. Let's find out what he wants. Lead the horse down that alley there, and then hide behind the building so you are out of sight." Without any hesitation, Jon proceeded to take the horse down the dirty, poorly lit alley. There were a few empty barrels along the left side of the alley, which Robb quickly situated himself behind. Reaching to his side, he pulled a dagger and waited.
Sure enough, just seconds later, the grey-cloaked figure appeared and Robb sprung himself up and forward. The target was clearly caught off guard, and Robb forced him back into the alley wall, lifting the dagger toward their neck.
"Tell me why you're following us or I'll open your neck and paint the ground," Robb growled, applying pressure to the dagger. He could hear Jon making his way back around the corner and draw his sword.
When the figure did not answer right away, Robb grew impatient and used his free hand to yank down their hood. As he did, the face of Theon Greyjoy looked back at him. Robb dropped his dagger from Theon's throat and almost stumbled backwards.
"Theon?" Robb mumbled. "What are you doing here?"
The man took a moment to compose himself, and check the spot on his neck where the dagger had rested. "Good to see you as well," he muttered. "Lord Stark sent me."
"Is it Bran?" Robb asked, and instantly his stomach dropped. Had his Father sent Theon to break the news that his brother had died?
"Bran is awake," Theon explained, and Robb expelled a breath in relief.
"Why did he not just send a raven with the news?" Jon questioned.
"It is not as simple as that," Theon continued. "Shortly after you left with the King, an assassin made an attempt on Bran's life."
"What!" Robb nearly shouted. His hand went for his sword, as if to make ready for battle. "Who was it? Do they still live?"
"Luckily for Bran, his wolf was close by during the attempt. Which was unlucky for the assassin, because the beast tore his throat clear out his neck."
"So we have no idea who sent them?"
Theon reached into his cloak and pulled out an ornate dagger. "The assassin carried this. It's Valyrian steel. Only someone of very high birth would have owned something like this. It was likely payment for the job."
"That still does not tell us who hired him," Jon exclaimed.
"No," Theon agreed. "However, after the attempt was made on his life, Bran woke...and he remembered everything."
"What did he say?" Robb asked, deadly serious.
"Bran was climbing the tower, and stumbled upon the Kingslayer fucking the Queen," Theon revealed. "Jaime Lannister tried to kill your brother."