Bran III
Highgarden looked much the same as it had a moon's turn ago, when they had departed the castle after the tourney had ended. The difference this time around was the large force of tens of thousand who camped outside its walls, more than any man could count. Bran recognized some of the dozens of banners, like the three oak leaves of House Oakheart, the red huntsman of House Tarly, and the red and green apples of both branches of House Fossoway.
On their walk north along the Rose Road from Oldtown Bran and Ser Robar had found themselves in the company of the men from Honeyholt, a thousand men who marched under the command of Ser Bertram and Ser Hugh, the two sons of Lord Warryn Beesbury. The two Beesbury knights had confirmed that Lord Mace Tyrell had called his banners, and had told them the reason, that Renly Baratheon had declared himself king and was marrying Margaery Tyrell.
"That's three kings now," Ser Robar said in surprise. "It's a Baratheon civil war."
"Not exactly," Ser Bertram had responded. "Stannis sent ravens to the entire realm claiming Joffrey Baratheon and his siblings are children born of incest with the Kingslayer. That would make them Lannisters, wait no Waters. Or would it be Hills?"
Bran knew the noble bastards had surnames that aligned with whichever region they were from, like Jon. If Stannis' claim was true and Queen's children were bastards would their actual surname be Waters because they were born and raised in the Crownlands, or Hill because both their parents were from the Westerlands? It probably depended on what the parents called them, and he doubted Queen Cersei would call her children anything but Baratheon.
"Could just be a pretense to claim the throne," Ser Robar pointed out, after getting over his disgust at the news.
Ser Hugh shrugged. "Possible. Though the royal children being bastards is the reason Renly used when he declared himself king."
Bran had remained silent during the exchange but that night he had approached Ser Robar with a question that had bugged him since they had heard the news.
"Ser Robar, is Renly Baratheon not the youngest of the Baratheon brothers?"
"He is. He was maybe four during Robert's Rebellion. Younger than King Robert by fifteen years and Stannis by thirteen years."
"Then if Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are bastards, wouldn't Stannis be King Robert's rightful heir? Why wouldn't Renly pledge himself to his brother?"
Ser Robar was quiet for a moment. "I can not speak to Renly's mind. My father has often told me that Stannis Baratheon is a hard man who few hold any love for. Plus, the power of a crown is a tempting ambition for most men."
Bran could only nod his head in response, but he still didn't understand it. Renly shouldn't be raising himself up as a king, he should be helping his older brother. Bran knew he would never try to claim Robb's birthright. He would support his brother to the best of his abilities, as was his duties as the second son. As were Renly's duties as the third son.
It appeared the Tyrells were holding another tourney, as the stands had been set up again and they were packed with people. The plan was to approach Lord Tyrell and request the honor of a room for the night but Ser Robar wanted to see this impromptu tourney up close and how it would affect their plans, so they made their way to the tourney grounds.
Ser Robar muscled his way through the crowd that had gathered along the fenced in melee grounds to get to the front and Bran followed in his wake. The melee must have started over an hour ago as a pair of fighters were the only two left and they were fighting fiercely, though their fatigue was evident. Bran recognized the larger of the two fighters from the previous time at Highgarden, it was Brienne of Tarth. He was surprised to see her still here as she was supposed to have left the same day they did.
As for the smaller fighter, he didn't recognize the armor and therefore the man who wore it, but he could see it was finely crafted; light green in color with flowers etched into the breastplate. The knight had a rainbow cloak that hung from their back.
"Ser Robar, who is the knight that Brenne is fighting?"
"That is the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell," Ser Robar answered. "Youngest son of Lord Mace Tyrell and one of the best swordsmen in the realm."
Bran watched the two fight until Ser Loras disarmed Brienne, no doubt assuming his victory. Except rather than accept defeat, Brienne instead tackled the Knight of Flowers to the ground, and after a bit of a struggle had his visor up with te point of a dirk leveled at his left eye.
The melee was called to an end and a man on the raised platform stood from his seat, clapping. Bran recognized him from his time in King's Landing, Renly Baratheon. He was dressed in a green doublet stitched with golden thread. Atop his head, nestled in his thick black hair, was a crown of golden roses with a jade stag's head with golden eyes and antlers in the middle. Others joined him, thought the enthusiasm of the clapping varied from person to person. Not many appeared thrilled at the outcome.
"Approach."
Brienne scrambled to her feet and walked to the newest king, while a squire ran out to assist Ser Loras to his feet. Brienne knelt in front of Renly and bowed her head.
"You are everything I was promised and more Lady Brienne. As champion you may ask of me any boon you may desire, and if it is within my power to grant it, it is yours."
"Your grace," Brienne answered, lifting up her visor "I ask the honor of a place among your Rainbow Guard. I would be one of your seven and pledge my life to yours, to go where you go, ride by your side, and protect you from all hurt and harm."
"Done. Rise and remove your helm."
Renly moved to the side of the platform he had been seated on with Margaery Tyrell and other members of the Tyrell family. Bran saw two men standing behind Renly, who also bore rainbow cloaks. They must be, along with Ser Loras, the members of this Rainbow Guard that Brienne was now joining.
By the time Renly was standing in front of Brienne, she had stood up and removed her helm. Renly cut away the cloak that she had been wearing, the one that bore the colors of House Tarth, and instead fastened the same rainbow cloak the others wore.
Brienne's smile lit up her face and her voice was strong and proud when she said, "My life for yours, your grace. From this day on I am your shield. I swear it by the old gods and the new."
Bran had never seen Brienne look so happy before, and he wanted to go up and congratulate her but Ser Robar advised against it. It was clear Highgarden was going to be too crowded for them to stay the night, and it would be best if they used the remaining daylight to get a few more miles of travel in.
They made their way back through the crowd and to the stables where they had left their horses and Summer. Bran had been a page for a year and several months now and he still found the saddles heavy and cumbersome things. He was too short to saddle Ser Robar's horse but handed the knight his saddle, before grabbing his own.
Summer stood from where he had been sitting and let out a low growl.
"Ser Robar, if I might have a word."
They both turned in surprise to see Renly Baratheon standing there with the two Rainbow Guards that had stood with him on the platform overseeing the melee. Now that they were closer up Bran recognized one of the guards as Ser Emmon Cuy, who had been here last month during the previous tourney being held. The other he had never seen before and he did not recognize the tall golden bird brooch that pinned his rainbow cape to his shoulder.
Summer moved between Bran and Renly, teeth bared. The other Rainbow Guard stepped forward, standing between Renly and Summer, and drew his sword.
"Summer," Bran hissed, grabbing the direwolf's fur and tugging on it. "Down."
"The wolf must recognize me as a stag," Renly quipped, though it was clear to see he was uneasy.
"Bran, control your direwolf before we must intervene," Ser Emmon said, a frown on his face, his own hand tightly clutching the pommel of his sword.
Bran wrapped his arms around Summer's neck and pulled him back. Reluctantly, Summer took a few steps back and stopped growling, but he refused to sit. He stood with muscles tensed and hair on edge.
Ser Robar cleared his throat and gave a bow. "Your grace, it is an honor."
Renly kept his eyes on Summer for a moment longer before turning to Ser Robar.
"I understand you participated in the tourney held here last month?"
"Yes, your grace."
"You came in second in the melee to Lady Brienne, is that correct?"
"Yes, your grace. As you no doubt saw for yourself, she is a fierce warrior."
"That she is. There was much talk of your own martial prowess in the time I've been here. I still have one opening left in my Rainbow Guard and I would like to offer it to you."
Ser Robar dropped into a bow again. "That is quite the honor you are offering me. Yet I find I must decline the offer at this moment. I am honor bound to bring my page home before I join the fighting."
"Ah," Renly said after a brief moment of silence, turning his attention to Bran. "Brandon Stark, I had forgotten you were Ser Robar's page, though your pet was quick to remind me. I promise you we will march on King's Landing and free your father."
It took Bran a second to remember his courtesies. "Thank you, your grace."
Renly smiled at him with laughter on his face, as if Bran had just told some great joke. The newest King turned his attention back to Ser Robar.
"In one week's time I will depart Highgarden for Bitterbridge, where my host of loyal Stormlords wait. I will march with seventy-five thousand reachmen at my back. Given the danger in the realm at the moment, and the identity of your page, I think it would be safer if you were to travel with us."
To Bran that didn't sound like an offer, more like a demand. Ser Robar's face remained stoic as he bowed his head and graciously accepted.
King Renly was true to his word, kind of. The start of his large host set out in one week's time, but the army was so large it took almost three full days for all the men and wagons to begin the journey. Plus on top of the army itself, the newly wed Queen Margaery also joined them on the march with a wheelhouse as wide as the road, accompanied by half a dozen ladies-in-waiting. Bran and Ser Robar had left on the second day, their spot about halfway through the mighty host.
Bran had hoped to spend more time with Brienne but her new duties as a member of the Rainbow Guard kept her near to Renly and Margaery, and the King and Queen did not spend time near enough to where Bran and Ser Robar marched in the large host. Bran suspected Summer's hostility toward Renly was one of the reasons.
Instead Bran found that they were almost always in the company of three knights of the Reach; Ser Humfrey Hightower, Ser Reynard Osgrey, and Ser Adam Graves.
Ser Humfrey was the youngest brother to Lady Alerie Tyrell and the fourth son of the Lord Hightower. Despite being the uncle to Queen Margaery, Ser Loras, and their two older brothers, he was actually a year younger than the Heir to Highgarden, Willas Tyrell. Bran found out of the three knights he liked Ser Humfrey the best. The man always seemed to have a smile on his face and was not afraid of Summer like the others they marched with.
Ser Adam was the oldest of the three, with thinning brown hair. His nose looked like it had been broken a few times and when he smiled Bran saw he was missing two teeth, which Ser Adam had said he lost in a tourney several years back. He was the second son of Lord Graves of Floral Heights. The few words Ser Adam spoke were said so softly one had to strain their ears to hear them.
Ser Reynard was the largest of the three, with broad shoulders and large arms. He wielded a greatsword that was strapped to his back when not in use. He was a man of duty and had little room for "silly nonsense," as he called most everything that didn't involve fighting and following his grace's orders. Ser Reynard was the nephew of Lord Osgrey of Standfast.
"The Stormlords declared for Renly?" Bran asked. "Even though Stannis is the older brother?"
"Mostly," Ser Humfrey answered, flashing a toothy smile at Bran. "Houses Buckler, Grandison, and Fell - and their sworn houses - all pledged their loyalty to Stannis instead of his grace, despite the King being their liege lord. The King had gathered all of his levies at Bronze Gate, the seat of House Buyckler. Imagine his surprise when a third of them were gone!"
"From what we know, the levies left the King's camp in the middle of the night after he declared his intention to march to Highgarden and declare himself king," Ser Reynard explained at Bran's confusion. "When his grace walked out of Bronze Gate to look into the report of the missing men, the gates had been closed behind him and would not open."
Buckler, Grandison, and Fell were some of the stronger houses in the Stormlands, accounting for between nine and ten thousand men. While still outnumbered by the rest of the Stormland levies almost two-to-one, it was still a blow to Renly's cause and a boost to Stannis'.
Bran found out about his Uncle Edmure's host being smashed outside of Riverrun by the Lannisters and the castle under siege. The reachmen had hoped that the Riverlands would have put up more of a fight against the Lannisters, to whittle down the number of men they would be facing. Though they said in the end it didn't matter, as they would wipe the Lannisters off the map.
The men of the Reach talked a lot about the glories they would achieve in battle. Bran knew his father would call them Summer Knights.
The problem for Ser Robar was the pace set by this army of the Reach. The knight from the Vale complained that a baby crawling would reach Bitterbridge before them. They would travel several miles a day before the host would stop and set up multiple large camps for the night. It was there that the men would feast and drink while it was still daylight outside. It wasn't so much a march to war as one giant month long festival. And in a seemingly never ending parade behind the host were wagons loaded with food, hundreds of them creaking along the Rose Road to show that House Tyrell's wealth wasn't just in gold but in nourishment.
A journey that should have taken them one fortnight took three. Each day they marched, Ser Robar grew more and more agitated. Bran suspected there was something more than just the slow march that was causing it but whatever it was Ser Robar would not share. The knight started avoiding most of the men around them, preferring to keep himself, and therefore Bran, away from anyone unless they were approached first. That left Bran only to talk with Ser Robar and the three knights of the Reach who seemed to be their constant companions. Any words Ser Robar exchanged with the three men were curt, which surprised Bran because Ser Robar was usually very courteous.
On top of their lack of traveling buddies, despite being surrounded by seventy-five thousand men, and the snail's pace of the host, the worst part for Bran was that he started having that weird dream again. The one where he was north of the Wall in a forest of dark and twisted trees that seemed to stretch to the stars themselves. With the flock of three hundred crows that sat atop a giant fist that jutted out of the ground, until an avalanche of snow and ice swept over the fist and buried all of the crows. Only to see each of the crow's rise out of the snow, dark eyes now a bright icy blue.
The dreams were almost every night. Except the dream wasn't always the same. It started off the same but sometimes as the avalanche came to sweep over the crows a white wolf would come running out of the woods and would shield a few of the crows with its body. The tumbling snow and ice would seem to split around the white wolf, going around it and sparing the crows that were behind the canine. Other times when the white wolf came it would breathe fire, melting the snow and ice, and preventing more of the crows from being buried beneath the cold.
The dream and its alternative versions would rotate every night, and each morning Bran would wake up with a headache and the feeling that he hadn't slept at all. Summer would be at his side every time he woke, golden eyes filled with concern that never faded no matter how many times Bran tried to tell the direwolf he was fine.
"Are you sleeping alright?" Ser Reynard asked with a frown one morning. "You look like hell almost every day."
"If you were older, I'd think you to be deep into your cups every night with how haggard you look each morning," Ser Humfrey quipped another morning, though there no trace of a smile on his face.
Ser Adam would only ever stare at him with a slight frown, which was the extent of his concern.
Ser Robar had also expressed concern, relieving Bran of his duties most days. One night, rather than go to sleep, Ser Robar stood vigil in their tent to see if there was truth in Bran's claims that he slept every night.
"You thrashed the entire night," Ser Robar said the next day, his own eyes heavy with the dark bags of exhaustion. "I tried to wake you but you wouldn't wake. Whatever dream you had, it held you too firmly in its grasp; you could not escape."
When they reached Bitterbridge, Bran almost whooped with glee. He would finally be heading north, to see his family. Word had reached the Stormland camp that Robb and an army of northmen had lifted the siege of Riverrun and that the Kingslayer was a prisoner of the Stark's.
But good news from the Riverlands wasn't all that greeted them. Stannis had laid siege to Storm's End, likely coming upon the giant castle a few weeks pass. The Stormlanders had been split on what to do before deciding to stay at Bitterbridge and await their King's arrival. If Renly had not taken his time on his march from Highgarden, the entire army would be halfway to Storm's End by now.
"King Renly will ride to Storm's End with all of his cavalry," Ser Humfrey explained to Bran that night. "And you and Ser Robar will be accompanying him on his journey."
Bran's face scrunched in confusion. That wasn't what Renly had told him back in Highgarden. He was promised that once they had reached Bitterbridge, Bran and Ser Robar would be given leave to head north into the Riverlands. Summer growled where he sat and Ser Robar stood with gritted teeth.
"Summer, stay," Bran commanded.
Once Bran was sure Summer would listen to him, he took off running. All four of them, Ser Robar, Ser Humfrey, Ser Reynard, and Ser Adam, shouted in surprise at him taking off. Bran weaved his way through the legs of confused men-at-arms and around the various tents that were being raised. When they traveled, the large host has broken into multiple camps, but at Bitterbridge they assembled into one giant camp that was larger than any town.
While most of the tents looked the same, there was one that was much taller and wider than the others, the King's tent. It was to that one that Bran ran to. The guards outside the entrance flaps, Ser Emmon Cuy the Yellow and a stormland knight called Ser Parmen Crane the Purple, who Bran had discovered was the man with the bird brooch, both made a move to block him from passing through the tent flaps, but he was able to duck beneath their grasping arms.
" - has fifteen thousand men, including foot and cavalry. Our cavalry alone is almost twenty-four thousand."
Bran entered the lavish tent to see it packed with men. There was King Renly and Queen Margaery with Ser Garlan Tyrell and Ser Loras Tyrell on either side of them. A few paces behind Renly, standing as straight as she could was Brienne. Amongst those facing his direction, Bran recognized the men known as Lord Randyll Tarly, Lord Mathis Rowan, and Lord Orton Merryweather. There were a few dozen other knights and lords, all of them crammed around a table but he either couldn't recognize them or he couldn't properly see their faces and sigils.
Ser Emmon came into the tent right behind Bran, and while Bran was small enough to escape the notice of all of those gathered, the heavily armored knight caught some of their eyes.
"What's the meaning of this?" Lord Rowan demanded, bringing everyone's attention as Ser Emmon laid an armored hand on Bran's shoulder to stop him from going any further.
"My apologies your grace," Ser Emmon said to Renly. "He slipped past us."
"You said when we got to Bitterbridge Ser Robar and I could go north," Bran said to King Renly, confused. "But I'm told we're to go with you to Storm's End?"
It was at that moment that Ser Humfrey, Ser Reynard, Ser Adam, and Ser Robar came into the tent as well, each of them panting with exertion.
"Is this a war council meeting or a public forum?" Lord Tarly muttered distastefully, eyes narrowed at all of the newcomers.
"Things have changed greatly since then," King Renly answered, ignoring Lord Tarly and forcing a smile on his face. "We can discuss it after the war council has met."
"Stop with the lies," Ser Robar cried, stepping forward in front of Bran as if to shield him from the gaze of the others. "You never intended for us to part your company."
"Ser Robar -"
"Bran has been your hostage since Highgarden."
Bran was confused. Hostage? Like Theon was a hostage, even though his father didn't like to call him that? There were murmurs from the surrounding lords and knights.
"Bran is not a hostage," King Renly said. "He is a guest -"
"Shut up!" Ser Robar yelled, startling Bran. He had seen the knight angry before but never like this.
"You do not talk to your King like that," Ser Loras said, face reddening with his own anger. The Knight of Flowers stalked around the silent nobles gathered around the table, stopping halfway to Ser Robar.
"He is no king of mine," Ser Robar said. "I do not bow to a man who lies to a child of nine that he is a guest while he has armed guards watching his every move."
Bran turned and looked at the three knights he had grown to know and like over the past three weeks. Ser Humfrey looked away in shame. Ser Reynard met his gaze briefly before he found his feet more interesting. Only Ser Adam held his gaze, lacking any of the guilt the other two showed.
"You will show King Renly respect," a man with a blue and gold spiral for a sigil said.
"King Renly is the king this realm needs," Ser Loras declared. Most of the others voiced their agreement. "He is the best of them."
Ser Robar undid the sword belt at his waist and threw it at the ground. "Let's not keep this charade any longer. I am a hostage like my page, and you, Renly Baratheon, seek to usurp your brother's claim."
That brought gasps from all, loudest from Queen Margaery. Ser Loras withdrew his sword from its sheath, eyes narrowed. Renly stayed silent, his face hard as stone as he looked at Ser Robar.
"Th-that you would dare say such a thing," Ser Loras breathed, struggling to speak around his anger.
"Those of us who aren't stupid know why you defend Renly and this farce so ardently Ser Loras," Ser Robar said, tone sharp. Then he added with a shake of his head, "Your own sister's husband."
Ser Loras had heard enough. He stalked forward, sword raised. Ser Robar held out his hands away from his body, making no move for the sword he had thrown to the ground.
"Come and show everyone here the honor of King Renly and his personal guard," Ser Robar said.
Bran wanted to scream at Ser Loras or to try to tackle him to the ground or something but he was frozen in place. His eyes shifted to Brienne who looked conflicted. She rocked forward and took a halting step, warring between what was right and her loyalty to the man she took as king.
"Loras!" the Queen's voice cut through the rising tension like a whip.
Ser Loras' blade stopped inches from Ser Robar's chest. The youngest Tyrell's breathing was labored, so heavy with anger that he struggled to draw breath into his chest. The Queen's voice seemed to snap the King into action. Renly squared his shoulders, and with hardened blue eyes looked at the scene in front of him.
"Ser Loras, stand down."
Ser Loras looked back at Renly for several seconds before taking a few steps backwards and sheathing his sword.
"Ser Humfrey, Ser Adam, Ser Reynard, bring the hostages back to their tent and make sure they don't leave again for the rest of the night," Renly ordered.
Ser Reynard was the one who approached Bran as the other two grabbed Ser Robar by the arms. The second son of House Royce allowed himself to be led from the tent.
"Come Bran," Ser Reynard said, placing his hand lightly between Bran's shoulders to lead him after Ser Robar.
Hundreds of thoughts swarmed in Bran's head but the one that jumped out at him was for Summer's safety. Hostages didn't get to keep their direwolf that could easily kill a man. He prayed to the old gods that Summer would sense the danger he was now in and run otherwise Renly would have his men make a cloak out of Summer's skin.
A/N: Seriously though, would they be Waters or Hill?