Two months had passed since the battle at Raventree Hall. Two months since Robb's father had died and he had ascended to the mantle last held by Torrhen Stark. There had been two months of unsettling quiet, at least for he and his Bannermen, as they hunkered down and entrenched themselves in the Riverlands.
The same could not be said elsewhere. While Tywin Lannister had been licking his wounds, Stannis Baratheon had finally decided to enter the game. Instead of initiating a direct siege of King's Landing, he had taken his considerable fleet of ships from Dragonstone and formed a blockade around Blackwater Bay. Meanwhile, a force of fifteen thousand loyal men from the Stormlands marched north and effectively cut off the capital from the south, securing the Roseroad where it met the Kingswood. Stannis, no military slouch, had placed the capital in a pinch, slowing the intake of supplies and trade to the Iron Throne. Fearing that Stannis would invade with his men from Dragonstone and overrun the city, Tywin had, but for a small garrison left at Harrenhal, abandoned the northern front of the war and retreated back into the Crownlands.
The immediate threat from the Lannisters had been removed, and allowed Robb's injured and battle-weary men the chance to recuperate for a time, though it did not mean the men were idle. The soldiers had constructed more permanent defenses and camps, while Robb and his lords had done their best to make sure that they were adequately fed and outfitted, which was no easy task. Robb had stayed and ruled from Riverrun for a month, overseeing the recapture of Darry from the soldiers of the Vale. The Blackfish and Edmure Tully, as liege lords of House Darry, had led the siege and won a quick victory. Follow the battle, a raven had arrived from Loras Tyrell. It had been brief, but had advised that he had gathered loyal men and would be sailing imminently for Seagard, the closest accessible port. The next day, he, Margaery, and a small host of men had left for the ancestral home of the Mallisters.
After having spent so much time in the grassy plains of the Riverlands, Robb took great pleasure in the feel of the strong sea breeze that blew in from Ironman's Bay. He watched from his quarters in the castle at Seagard as the water glistened in almost hypnotizing fashion. His attention was broken by the feel of a small, feminine arm wrapping around his bare torso. Margaery, adorned in nothing but a bedsheet, tucked herself under his arm. He looked down into her concerned eyes.
"You are up early, my King," Margaery noted, fighting back a yawn. "What troubles you?"
"I could not sleep," Robb confessed.
"Did I not properly exhaust you last night, my love?" Margaery questioned, fake indignation in her tone.
Robb grinned, letting his hand wander down and under the sheet until it had a firm grip on her bare backside. "No, my love, you did that beyond reproach, as always. I'm afraid that no one told me that a restless mind is the only thing that comes with a crown."
"What worries you, Robb?"
"Everything," he answered. "I worry that the Lannisters will attack again while I am away from my army, I worry that Stannis will attack us for not joining his cause, I worry that the wildings will invade the north and sack Winterfell. So many fucking things to worry about."
Margaery reached up and ran her hand soothingly through the curls atop Robb's head. "Your people believe in you. You have great lords standing beside you that you can count on. The Mormonts and the Boltons will be here soon to bolster our forces. It may feel like it now, but not everything falls on you, Robb. You're a king, not a god."
"If I start referring to myself as a god, do me the favor and smother me in my sleep," Robb shuddered.
"Of course, my love. I'll use the softest of pillows," Margarey promised. "Would you like me to send for something to break our fast with?…Robb?… What is it?"
Robb had pulled away from Margaery and moved closer to the window. Where once had been only an endless scape of water, was now interspersed with an array of distant shapes. "Ships, my love…many of them."
Margaery eagerly moved to stand next to him, leaning out of the window to get a better look. "Can you see the sails? I can't quite make them out."
"Aye, I can see them." Robb pulled on Margaery's sheet, forcing her back out of the window. He turned her head and placed a strong, solitary kiss to her lips. "Golden roses and grape clusters, my lady. Your brothers have arrived, and they've brought the whole Redwyne fleet with them from the look of it."
xxxxxxxxxx
Robb stood on the docks of Seagard, watching as the Tyrell ships anchored in the Bay. A small contingent of smaller row boats were making their way slowly to shore. Margaery stood beside him, her arm threaded through his own. Jason Mallister stood to Robb's left, while Jon and the rest of his Kingsguard were positioned behind them. Deciding that he needed to make an impression, Robb had worn his best doublet, one in which the seamstress had taken it upon herself to stitch a crowned dire wolf. His finest fur cloak and the bronze crown atop his head complemented. He looked every bit the part of a northern king, especially as had let his beard grow almost to the point of being unruly.
The rowers arrived, and the dockhands hurried to tie off the boats. A lightly armored Loras Tyrell was the first man off of the boat, followed by a taller, bearded man bearing a strong resemblance to Loras. Having already been acquainted with Willas, Robb knew this had to be Garlan Tyrell. Several other highborn men followed behind the two Tyrell brothers. As they stood before Robb, the men each took a knee.
"Please rise," Robb said quickly, still uncomfortable with the formal gestures.
"Your grace," Loras stated, standing once again. "May I introduce my elder brother, Garlan."
The man beside him bowed his head in greeting. "It is an honor to meet you, your grace. Both of my brothers have spoken highly of you, and your reputation certainly precedes you."
"The honor is mine, Ser Garlan," Robb responded. "Your lovely sister has spoken great praise of you as well. You are very welcome here. I look forward to the approaching day when our houses will be joined."
"As do I, your grace. There is no greater house that I could wish to be tied to than the Starks," Garlan answered. "Our grandmother likewise sends her regards. She begs forgiveness that she was unable to join us, but the long sea voyage was too much for her. In her stead she offers this." Garlan raised his palms and gestured to the men and ships behind him. "A strong fleet of ships and thirteen thousand men. Consider it a wedding present, your grace."
"A very generous gift at that, Ser Garlan. One that we will not take for granted. Did you have any problems on the journey north?"
"A few minor skirmishes with the Ironborn, but nothing our numbers could not subdue," Garlan spoke.
"Have you heard from father?" Margaery hesitantly questioned.
Garlan frowned. "Not in person, only by raven. He is still firmly entrenched with Tywin Lannister. His letters are clearly dictated by someone else, and they always request more men and more supplies. Stannis' ploy is working, because the only supplies coming to the capital are from the Westerlands."
"The Reach itself is frayed," Loras added. "The Tarlys, Hightowers, and Caswells are still loyal to Father. They've been in a standoff with Stannis' forces in the south for weeks. Most of the other houses are either completely resistant to joining the Lannisters, or at least divided over it. Willas and grandmother are effectively in charge of Highgarden for the time being. It's very much due to them that we were able to bring so many."
"We are immensely grateful for their efforts," Robb commended. He turned to Margaery. "My lady, why don't you escort your brothers and their bannermen to the great hall to see they are fed. Lord Mallister and I will discuss the best way to accommodate all of our new guests."
"Of course, your grace," Margaery agreed. "Come brothers, we have much to catch up on."
xxxxxxxx
It had taken the majority of the day to land and settle the majority of the Tyrell army. A number of the ships in the rear of the fleet would stay manned to repel any attempted raids by the Ironborn, but most had been emptied into the lands north of Seagard. Robb was weary when he finally entered a quiet, empty great hall, flopping down onto a deserted bench. He had dismissed most of his Kingsguard to get rest, but Jon, Theon and Gendry had remained, finding seats beside him.
A young maid with her long dark hair pulled back, and apron over her dress shyly approached their table. She offered a nervous curtsey, before speaking. "May I bring anything for you and your men, your grace?"
Robb smiled at her, attempting to put her at ease. "Some wine and maybe some bread and butter would fine. I'm so tired I don't think I could manage to put down a full meal."
"Right away, your grace," the maid curtsied again, before rushing off towards the kitchens. Robb smacked Theon in the side of the head when he noticed lecherous eyes following her.
"Keep your eyes to yourself, Theon."
"No harm in looking, Robb," Theon rubbed his cheek.
"If you stopped at looking, I would not have to say anything. I'm certain there are enough Greyjoy bastards running around the North as is, no need for more. If you need to bed someone, at least go to a brothel."
"As King, you could just marry him off," Jon suggested. "I'm sure Lord Umber could find a daughter or niece in need of a husband. The heir to the Iron Islands has some value."
"If you think I'm going to Last Hearth to freeze my cock off, you are crazy," Theon cringed. "The women in the north wear too much as it is. Go that far, and they all look like fucking bears."
"Say that in the Greatjon's presence and you won't have a cock to use anyway. Speaking of marriage," Jon prodded, "when can we expect to officially have our new queen?"
Robb perked up at the mention of his impending nuptials. "As soon as my Mother arrives. Lady Mormont is accompanying her south as we speak," Robb answered, taking a cup of wine from the maid who had just returned. "Once they reach Greywater Watch, we will ride north and accompany them to Riverrun."
"What about after the wedding, your grace?" Gendry asked.
"Robb is fine, Gendry," he corrected the blacksmith for what felt like the thousandth time since he was crowned. "And as for what is next, I don't know. Much depends on what happens between then. The situation in the Vale is untenable. The noble houses are laying siege to each other. I want to feed Littlefinger and Lysa Arryn to Grey Wind and Ghost. Tywin Lannister will not forget us. We are in a waiting game for the moment. The problem is, at some point winter is going to unleash its fury on us, and we will not be able to do much of anything, other than stay alive."
The four men indulged in drink for an hour, enjoying the peace of Seagard. Their peace was broken however, when a guardsman entered the hall.
"Excuse me, your grace." The guard bowed.
"What is it?" Robb questioned.
"A rider has just arrived. He says he is an emissary from Stannis Baratheon. Says his name is Set Davos Seaworth."
"The onion knight?" Robb arched his brow. "Is he alone?"
"Just a small escort, your grace."
"Well it is late, and I am a little drunk, but against my better judgment I will see him," Robb sighed. "Show him in."
A few moments later, the guard returned with another man beside him. He was one of the most unassuming knights Robb had ever met, small, with a small amount of graying hair on his head and matching short gray beard. He wore a cheap green cloak over a brown tunic. His face was weathered from years at sea, but his eyes and expression were still kind.
Robb stood from seat, straightening his cloak. "Ser Davos. Welcome to Seagard," Robb greeted.
The Onion Knight bowed. "A pleasure, your grace. I mean you no disrespect to call at you such an hour, your grace."
"No offense is taken, Ser Davos. Though, I am curious as to what brings you this far north, so far away from your home."
"I come on behalf of Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, the one true King of Westeros," Davos recited.
Jon stood up next to Robb. "If you had not noticed, Ser Davos, there is another King standing here before you. You may have to alter your introductions."
"Indeed, I did…I'm afraid I am at a loss for your name Ser."
"This is my brother, Jon," Robb advised, leaving off the second part of the name.
"Of course," Davos nodded. "As I was saying, the boy on the throne and his siblings are not of Baratheon blood. Stannis Baratheon is the true heir to Robert Baratheon, and as such is the heir to the Iron Throne."
"If Stannis wants the Iron Throne, it is his for the taking Ser Davos," Robb stated. "I have no wish to sit on it. However, he will have to settle himself with ruling over five kingdoms. The north bent the knee to Robert, but he will be the last southern king to have that honor. The North and the Riverlands have declared their independence. They have entrusted me with the title of King, and I do not mean to surrender it, not to Joffrey, and not to Stannis."
"Stannis does not wish a fight with you, your grace," Davos assured. "He had great respect for Ned Stark, and he grieved for his passing. That being said, he will not hesitate to claim what is his by right."
"I wish no fight with Stannis, Ser Davos," Robb countered. "We could be allies against the Lannisters if that was his wish, but we will not be kneeling to him today, or any day in the future. Tell me, Ser Davos, did you see all of the banners with golden roses outside the walls of the city?"
"I did, your grace. Tyrells if I'm not mistaken," Davos responded.
"Aye. There are thirteen thousand Tyrell soldiers who have only just joined our cause, on top of my men from the north and the Riverlands. If Stannis marches north, we will meet him in battle and we will crush him. What a foolish waste of life that would be just for Stannis' pride."
"It would seem we are at an impasse, your grace," Davos mused.
"It would seem so," Robb agreed. "You seem like a good man, Ser Davos. If you have Stannis' trust, then tell him that Westeros would be much better off without our families at each others throats. We are not enemies."
"I will do so, your grace."
"Are the rumors true, Ser Davos?" Jon questioned.
"Rumors…?"
"They claim your King has been enthralled by a red witch," Jon explained.
"Melisandre," Ser Davos stated, a distasteful look to his face. "She is a priestess. A follower of the lord of light. Stannis and those close to him have converted to her ways."
"And the rumors of burnings and sacrifices? Are those true as well, Ser Davos?" Jon pressed.
Robb could tell just from the reluctance on Davos' face that the rumors were true.
"It is true," Davos confessed. "The priestess makes sacrifices to her god. They burn men alive for favor."
"Why do you continue to follow him, Ser Davos?" Robb asked. "The man is burning innocents in the hope of achieving power."
"I was just a poor smuggler from Flea Bottom, your grace. I am now a knight because of Stannis' generosity."
"An honor you earned during Robert's Rebellion, but one good deed should not excuse the cold murder of innocents, Ser Davos," Robb stated. "I rule because my people made it so, not because I threaten to feed them to my direwolf if they don't. My ancestors bowed to the Targaryens because they threatened to kill us, not because we wanted it. No king should rule by fear. If there comes a day when you would rather serve another king, there is a place for you here, and for any other man from the Stormlands who would join you. I cannot imagine that Stannis' men are taking easily to having to abandon the gods of their fathers."
"Some, no. I don't follow her ways. The offer is very generous, your grace," Davos bowed. "I will not intrude on your evening any longer."
"No intrusion, Ser Davos," Robb smiled. "In truth, we were about to lose ourselves in wine, so I thank you for the distraction. We will have lodgings secured for you and your escort, so that you may rest and recover from your journey."
"Thank you, your grace. I'm much more accustomed to traveling by boat, then by horse. I will certainly take you up on the offer of a bed."
"Do think on the first offer as well, Ser Davos. There are too few good men left in Westeros as it stands, and I would hate to hear the news one day that you had been tied to a stake and set alight."
"I do hope that is not the case," Davos bowed again, beginning to turn away, but not before giving a double take to where Gendry was still seated. After the Onion Knight was gone from the hall, Robb approached the former blacksmith.
"It may be best to avoid Ser Davos for the rest of his stay," Robb proposed. "He's a smart man, who has known the Baratheons for many years. If he hasn't surmised your ancestry yet, he may still. If Stannis finds out we're harboring Robert's son, true born or not, he may march on us, or at the least request we surrender you."
"I have a feeling that I would end up tied to a stake," Gendry worried.
Robb patted Gendry on the shoulder and poured him more wine. "No stakes for you, Gendry. You are under the protection of House Stark. He can ask for you all he fucking wants, but you aren't going anywhere. We tend to be a stubborn people."
"We may be stubborn, but Stannis sounds fucking crazy," Jon added. "The only good thing is, he may burn half his army before he ever makes it to us."
"We won't underestimate him," Robb countered. "He may be under the spell of this priestess, but he has a good mind for battle. If he means to beat the Lannisters then we'll let him."
"And what if he wins?" Jon pressed. "He sits on the Iron Throne and starts burning people on a whim? Do we hole ourselves up in the north and let it happen?"
Robb sighed, taking a swig of wine. "We are getting too far ahead of ourselves. We'll deal with that when it happens. There are too many enemies on the field to think that far ahead."
xxxxxxxxx
As he often did in the mornings after leaving Margaery in their bed, Robb wandered the streets of Segard, greeting and interacting with the people and merchants. War tended to impact the lowest of people in ways that was often not seen, and he liked to keep things in perspective. Men from Seagard had fought and died at Raventree Hall, and he was sure there were children without fathers that he unknowingly passed. Some people were intimidated as he went by, but others would greet him warmly. He walked through the streets, several of his guard at his side, until he saw a large gathering around the practice yard.
Robb made his way over, the crowd instantly parting for him, and saw what had drawn the curios onlookers. Jon and Loras Tyrell were in the midst of a heated spar, hacking away at each other with flurried strikes. The crowd gasped as Loras barely missed a swipe from Jon's sword. Robb moved closer until he found Garlan Tyrell leaning against a piece of fencing.
"Your brother fights well, your grace," Garlan praised as he saw Robb approach.
"He does," Robb agreed. "As does yours."
"They've been going at it for quite awhile. What would you say to a friendly match, your grace? I've been stuck on a ship for weeks and could use the practice."
Robb frowned. "Your sister won't be upset when I beat you?"
"You have a whole army at your back, your grace," Garlan laughed. "I believe I have more to fear when I knock you to the dirt."
"I also have a direwolf, just to be clear, but I would not underestimate your sister," Robb countered.
"I'm sure she'll be gentle. Anyway, I'm sure there will not be the time for a tourney to celebrate the imminent royal wedding, so this will have to do."
"If you insist, Ser Garlan," Robb agreed. He walked out slowly into the yard, where both Jon and Loras were sucking air, clearly winded from their extended fight.
Robb placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "If you don't mind, Ser Garlan and I are going to test each other's skills. At the rate you two were going, both of you would pass out before there was a winner."
"I had him right where I wanted him," Jon huffed in protest.
"Of course you did."
It took a few moments for someone to fetch Robb's sword and armor, but in that time the crowd had increased in size. Lord Mallister and Lord Redwyne were standing together with Jon, Loras, Theon, and Gendry. There were shouts from some of the Tyrell men encouraging their leader, while Robb's men were characteristically more reserved.
Robb gripped his sword and sized up his opponent, who was built more strongly then his brother. He wore fine armor, which was inlaid with numerous designs. Both men had foregone a shield, and began to circle each other as the audience clamored. As Robb expected, Garlan struck first with a lunge, which Robb swatted away easily. Another lunge came, and Robb side-stepped and drove his shoulder into Garlan's breastplate, pushing him. Garlan may have had height on him, but Robb was stronger and Garlan stumbled back.
Robb feinted right, then swung down from his left, Garlan blocking it away. They exchanged a long series of strikes and blocks, testing each other's defenses, which were solid. Garlan was not as much of a showman as Loras, but he was still animated in his movements, which Robb was able to predict beforehand. On one instance, Garlan took too long to swing, allowing Robb to step forward and catch the knight's sword arm on the backswing. He drove his pommel into Garlan's stomach, then reached his sword arm underneath Garlan's captured arm and swung him over his shoulder onto the ground. The man's armor thumped into the cold dirt, and Robb could hear him exhale as his lungs were forced to empty.
Robb stepped next to him and held his sword tip to his opponent's throat. "Yield?"
Garlan took a large breath before nodding. "Yield." Robb pulled his sword away and held his hand out to his future brother-in-law. Garlan was pulled to his feet. "You fight well, your grace. You don't rely too heavily on your sword to defeat your opponent."
"We northmen are natural brawlers, Ser Garlan," Robb chuckled. "We start fighting before we've been weaned off of our mother's breast."
"I hope you'll allow me a chance for a better showing, your grace?"
Robb was about to consent to another match, but a voice from behind him stopped him.
"I'm afraid that will have to wait, brother." Margaery, wrapped in one of Robb's fur cloaks made her way over to Robb. In her hand she held a rolled parchment. "A raven arrived this morning, Robb. Your mother has arrived at Greywater Watch."
Robb took the scroll, reading through it quickly. He looked back up at Garlan. "Another time, Ser Garlan. I'm afraid I have to prepare to ride north."
"I'll hold you to it, your grace."
Robb turned back to Margaery. "And you, my love, need to finish organizing a wedding while I am gone."