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Wolf Pact by DizzyDG
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Family & Romance, [Robb S., Myrcella B.], Words: 163k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Dec 24, 2015 Updated: Sep 13, 2018865Chapter 14: XII: The Inside Man
A/N: Hey guys! I'm still away from home, and I'm only using wifi in a cafe so forgive me for my lack of replies on reviews. I thought you would all appreciate a chapter though, so here it is! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it is much appreciated, and I will get back to you next time. Hope you enjoy this new one!
:)
XII: The Inside Man
Robb
They thundered into Torrhen's Square, two hundred strong with the direwolf banners displayed proudly at the helm. Robb followed the banner bearers, leading in the rest of the men as they rode down the main street of the settlement. Some of the townsfolk called out cheerily, others looked distinctly wary as the royal party rode passed. As well they might, Robb thought wryly as they drew ever closer to the main keep. The gates were open to them and they galloped right through, slowing as they came into the main courtyard. Robb's eyes sought out the main doors, seeing Master Hellman stood at the foot of the steps with several members of his household. He thought the man looked slightly apprehensive, seeing him wringing his hands slightly. Robb dismounted, Billy there at once to take the reins of his horse. He thanked him before striding towards the welcoming party with the Smalljon on his right shoulder. His friend had insisted on coming, and Robb knew that part of him was hoping for a fight.
"Your Grace," Master Hellman and those stood with him all dropped down to one knee, and Robb sighed heavily. Even after all these years as King he still found it intensely uncomfortable when people fell at his feet.
"Rise," he said tiredly, "we shall speak inside, my men will amuse themselves for a while. Jon, with me," he inclined his head to the Smalljon, who nodded in response.
"Of course, your Grace," Master Hellman bowed his head, "please, allow me to escort you." Robb inclined his head in agreement, managing a small smile for the Master. He turned at that, leading the way up the steps and into the keep, Robb and the Smalljon following closely behind him. Master Hellman led them to a small but comfortably parlour, calling for wine and insisting they sit themselves down. Robb didn't argue with him, he was exhausted from the riding of the past few days and of the lack of sleep that accompanied staying out in the open. He would be glad to rest in a real bed, even if it were only for a few nights.
"Thank you," he said to the serving girl who offered him a glass of wine. She promptly flushed scarlet and curtseyed to him before backing away hastily. Robb resisted rolling his eyes, instead taking a long sip of wine before turning his attention to Master Hellman. "Your walls are strong," he stated, and the man inclined his head in agreement. "Your stores are kept within the walls," Robb continued, "how is it that they are being so easily looted?" Master Hellman looked distinctly awkward at his question, clearing his throat slightly before he answered.
"It is a question we have asked ourselves, your Grace, and the only way we have concluded is that someone within the keep must be helping the looters," Master Hellman reported and Robb sighed heavily, sharing a look with the Smalljon.
"Two of your guards were badly beaten, where were they found?" Robb asked.
"The lake gate, to the south of the keep," he answered, and Robb took another sip of wine.
"Then I think you have your point of entry," the Smalljon said wryly, raising a brow in Robb's direction.
"Indeed, my lord," Master Hellman agreed, "and we have made several inquiries but all have led nowhere. If anyone knows anything about the looters, they are keeping their mouths firmly closed."
"Perhaps their tongues would be loosened if their king were to speak with them personally," the Smalljon suggested with a slight smirk.
"Indeed, my lord," Master Hellman said again, inclining his head in agreement.
"I think I will take a walk around the town, stretch my legs after such a long ride, would you join me, Jon?" Robb tilted his glass towards the Smalljon.
"It would be my pleasure, your Grace," he tilted his glass in return and they shared a knowing smile. Master Hellman looked rather nervous as they both drained their glasses and set them down before rising up from their seats.
"We will return to the keep in due course, Master Hellman," Robb allowed him a small smile and inclined his head before leading the Smalljon out of the parlour.
"What do you think?" his friend asked him as they walked back through the keep towards the main doors.
"I'm thinking someone within the keep is indeed behind it, and I would wager they are making a decent profit to risk their position here," Robb answered, and the Smalljon nodded his agreement.
"So you think they are already selling the looted goods?" he raised a brow, and Robb nodded his confirmation.
"I think we ought to take a turn about the markets, see what they have on offer," Robb smiled grimly and the Smalljon clapped him on the back with a chuckle as they emerged from the keep.
"It's not quite dragons," he said as they descended the steps, "but I am overdue a little adventure in my life."
Robb couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head as they walked in step across the courtyard and towards the main gates. "I think this may be more mystery than adventure, Jon, but perhaps your imagination will serve you well," he commented, his friend snorting in response as they passed under the gates.
"Aye," the Smalljon mused, "or perhaps I will find me a pretty maiden at the market."
"Little changes about you," Robb commented amusedly, inclining his head to an old man who had called out a greeting to him.
"You cannot pretend you have not had your share of women," the Smalljon responded, and he smiled wryly.
"I am a respectable married man," Robb told him, and the Smalljon cackled in response.
"Married, aye," he snorted, and Robb shoved at his shoulder.
"Watch your tongue," Robb said in a falsely scandalised tone, only to have the Smalljon shove his shoulder right back.
"Will you have me arrested for treason?" his friend teased him, and he glared at him.
"Don't tempt me," Robb said pointedly, but the Smalljon merely grinned.
"Serious face now, your Grace, we are approaching the market," he said, and Robb rolled his eyes.
"Just wander through, keep a sharp eye for anything suspicious but at least try and be discreet," Robb murmured to him as they joined the crowd at the markets. It wasn't horrendously busy, but there were enough people milling around to make sure that he and the Smalljon could blend in. The only thing that ever gave Robb away was his colouring, he looked far too much like a Tully to be anyone but Robb Stark. He considered pulling his hood up, but decided that that would look even more suspicious. By now word would have spread through the town that the royal party had arrived, and so he left it down and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He didn't see anything that aroused his suspicions, but his eye was caught by a stall selling fur stoles, hats and gloves. A slight smile played on his lips as he thought that perhaps he could take Myrcella back a gift. Likely it would only make her roll her eyes, but he also thought she would find it amusing.
"A moment," Robb inclined his head towards the stall and the Smalljon nodded his agreement, following him through the throng of people until they reached the stall.
"Your Grace," the woman tending it dropped into a curtsey at once, and Robb wished that she would hurry up and stand straight again. He did not need to draw unnecessary attention to himself.
"Please, miss, there is no need," he said insistently, and she rose back up with a slight blush. "What are these made of, rabbit?" Robb enquired, touching his fingers to a pair of light grey gloves which looked dainty enough to suit Myrcella.
"Aye, your Grace," she confirmed, and he nodded slightly. When winter really set in she would no doubt need something more substantial, but these would do nicely for now.
"How much?" he asked the woman.
"Six silver, your Grace," she answered him, and he nodded, reaching beneath his cloak and into his doublet to pull out his coin purse.
He loosened the strings and tipped some coin into his hands, counting out seven stags and returning the rest to his purse. "One extra for your trouble," he tipped the coin into the woman's waiting hands and her blush heightened.
"Thank you, your Grace, I will wrap them for you," she stammered out, lifting his chosen purchase and wrapping them. "Do you have a preference of colour, for the ribbon?" she asked him expectantly, and he cast his eyes over the assortment she had.
"Green," he finally said, thinking about Myrcella's eyes.
"Very good, your Grace," she said, wrapping the ribbon around the package and tying it neatly.
"Thank you, miss," Robb inclined his head to her as he took the wrapped parcel from her and tucked it beneath his cloak.
"You're most welcome, your Grace," she bobbed a slight curtsey and he offered a smile before turning away.
"I suppose you ought to take the queen a gift, since you deserted her the morning after your wedding," the Smalljon commented as they walked on.
"Aye," Robb agreed, "though I would hardly call it desertion. Believe me, I was most reluctant to leave." The Smalljon chuckled at that, apologising to a man he knocked shoulders with as they passed through the crowd.
"Time was you were most reluctant to marry her," his friend reminded him, and Robb smiled wryly.
"Times change," he said simply, skirting round a group of hagglers at the meat stall.
"And I suppose her beauty has naught to do with it," the Smalljon quipped in a teasing tone and Robb scowled at him.
"Her beauty is not just on the outside," he said seriously, "she is not the girl I feared her to be."
"Good," the Smalljon said just as seriously, and Robb smiled properly.
"I've seen nothing obvious, perhaps we could try the tavern?" Robb suggested, and the Smalljon grinned.
"Now you're talking, Stark," he clapped him on the back and Robb rolled his eyes, turning to head back the way they had come.
"Hold up," the Smalljon stopped him in his tracks and he paused.
"What is it?" Robb asked him, following his line of sight to a fish stall on the edge of the market.
"A hunch," the Smalljon said, frowning slightly.
"I will follow your lead," Robb invited him, gesturing to the stall. A young girl, perhaps even younger than Myrcella, was tending the stall. She didn't seem particularly nervous as they approached, curtseying politely and offering formalities. Robb frowned, hoping that the Smalljon did indeed have a hunch, and not just had his eye caught by the seller.
"Are these fresh?" the Smalljon gestured to a palette of salted fish.
"Aye, my lord, caught just this morning," the girl reported to him, and he nodded slowly.
"Caught where?" he asked next, and Robb rolled his eyes, wondering where he was going with this.
"The lake, my lord, as all the fish is caught," the girl answered him evenly.
"Interesting," the Smalljon said slowly, "how a saltwater fish can be caught in a freshwater lake." The girl's eyes widened at that, and for the first time she looked nervous. Robb's brow furrowed, as he stepped a little closer to better examine the fish. "The keep gets imports from Saltspear, does it not?" the Smalljon murmured quietly to him, and he nodded confirmation.
"Aye, preserved in the stores," Robb said heavily.
"Who delivers your fish, miss?" the Smalljon asked the girl, and she shrugged her shoulders.
"Many fishermen, my father deals with them, I just sell from the stall. People are more likely to buy from a young girl, that's what he says. I don't know who he trades with, I just make sure the fish are shifted," she told them, a slight shake in her voice that had Robb narrowing his eyes slightly.
"And where is your father?" the Smalljon asked her, only to be greeted by another shrug.
"Can't answer that, my lord, apologies," she bobbed a little curtsey and Robb sighed.
"Come on," he murmured, "we are wasting our time here. I'll have some of the men come down and keep an eye on her." The Smalljon nodded at that, before inclining his head towards the girl.
"Thank you for your time, miss," he said politely, and she nodded curtly in response.
The Smalljon stopped off at another stall near-by to get the name of the girl's father, after which he and Robb made their way back to the keep. Robb found some of the men loitering around the armoury and he called them over, sending three of them down to the market to keep an eye on the girl and keep a lookout for any other suspicious activity. It would be impossible to tell stolen grains and simple foods apart, but fine wines and rarer meats would be easier to spot. He asked them to be discreet, and told them to stay away from the tavern until they had reported back to him later in the evening. They had agreed with him and set off into the town, leaving Robb and the Smalljon to head back into the keep.
His men returned later in the evening when Robb was sharing a drink with Master Hellman, the Smalljon, and several others, in the parlour after dinner. They did not return empty handed. A middle aged man was prodded through the door ahead of them, shifting nervously from foot-to-foot with his eyes darting about the place. "Who is this?" Robb asked, looking expectantly towards his men.
"Loric, your Grace, the fish man," one of them answered him, and Robb turned his attention to Loric.
"Are you aware that your daughter is selling stolen fish from your stall?" Robb asked him evenly, seeing his tongue dart out to lick his lips nervously.
"Alla buys from many men, she cannot be expected to know where it all comes from," Loric said. "She is a good-natured girl, and trusting. Would be easy for some to take advantage of her."
"I'm sure," Robb said drily, "though I am somewhat confused, as your daughter seemed to think that you deal with sourcing the produce, and she merely sells it on." Robb watched as Loric's face drained of colour, seeing the Smalljon smirk out of the corner of his eyes. "I think you were offered a way to make more coin," Robb said, "and I do not think you are the only merchant who sells at the market to be offered such an opportunity. You have names for me, Loric, names that I would be very interested in hearing. You will write them all down, and I will consider a more lenient punishment."
"I cannot lose my trade, your Grace, my family relies on me, please," Loric pleaded with him, meeting Robb's eyes.
"The names, Loric," Robb said softly, and the man nodded his head in defeat. "Oversee it," Robb directed towards the Smalljon.
"Aye, your Grace," he made to stand up but Robb halted him, leaning in to murmur one last instruction to him.
"We need the name of the man inside the keep, have the men round up the rest of them, but bring that name back to us here," Robb told him, and the Smalljon nodded.
"It will be done, your Grace," he said. With that he did stand up, gesturing for the men to escort Loric ahead of him. No one else in the room spoke until the door was firmly closed behind the departing company.
"How would you punish him, your Grace?" Master Hellman asked him at once.
"He can keep his trade, he will need it now winter is coming," Robb said, "but he will pay a percentage of his profit back to the keep until his debt is paid." Master Hellman nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"But how will you decide the amount of his debt, your Grace?" he asked next, and Robb smiled wryly.
"Well, that all depends on how well his list turns out. I do not want to be sold false tales. If the names he gives us prove to be useful then the debt will be less, if he sends us chasing the wrong men, it will be far higher," Robb answered, draining his glass of wine.
"May we be informed of the extra instruction you gave?" Master Hellman tentatively enquired.
"I merely requested that the name of the man conspiring within the keep was brought to me," Robb said, holding out his empty glass to be refilled by the serving girl. He thanked her when it was topped up, and she blushed just as she had done before, before scurrying away again.
"Very good, your Grace," Master Hellman said, and Robb could see his eyes suspiciously scanning the rest of the company they were keeping.
"I wager it will not be long before we have our answer," Robb said, calmly taking a sip of wine, his own eyes casting about the room. Two of his own men were stood against the opposite wall, and they were well armed. Robb himself wore mail under his doublet, and it had been a long time since he went anywhere without his sword hanging from his belt. One could never be too careful.
It was another twenty minutes or so of idle chatter before there was a knock on the door. Master Hellman called for the visitor to come in, and Robb leaned forward slightly in his chair as the Smalljon appeared. "Do we have a name?" Robb asked keenly, and the Smalljon inclined his head.
"Indeed we do, your Grace. Loric named the steward, Elfred," he reported, and the company in the parlour began to whisper furiously to one another. Robb took a breath, looking towards Master Hellman to see his reaction. He had paled slightly, an almost disbelieving expression on his face.
"He has keys to the gates, I presume?" Robb directed towards the Master, and he nodded.
"Aye, one of the sets. The others are in the possession of myself, my brother, my son, and the captain of the guards. There is one other set, but it is kept locked away in my study," Master Hellman told him.
"Where would your steward be?" Robb asked next, noticing that the older man looked faintly disorientated.
"In his quarters, no doubt," he answered, and Robb nodded.
"Would you like to send your own men to apprehend him? Or would you prefer my men to take care of it?" Robb enquired, and Master Hellman's features suddenly set as though frozen in stone.
"My men will take care of him," he practically snarled, "a traitor under my own roof. I could have him hanged for this."
"Aye, you could," Robb agreed. Looters stealing from the stores was one thing, but organising continual robberies and profiting from it was quite another. Not to mention the abuse of his position, and the savage beating of two of the town guards.
"But first I will see what he has to say for himself, you," he nodded towards one of their company, "fetch enough guards to apprehend him and take him down to the cells. He can have a night to think on what he is accused of, and I will speak with him in the morning. Are you inclined to stay for the outcome, your Grace?"
"Tempting as it is, I do not think you need my presence any longer. You know my thoughts on the punishment of Loric, I will leave the rest to you, but do not forget that winter is coming, and these men have families. Punish them by all means, but provision must be given to their families," Robb said. "I am glad to have assisted in this matter, please do not hesitate to send word and inform me of what you have decided to do here, I am very interested in the outcome," Robb inclined his head as he stood up, outstretching his hand to Master Hellman, who stood up at once and grasped it, bowing his head.
"Thank you for your assistance in this matter, your Grace," he said seriously, "I wish you a safe journey back to Winterfell, will you leave on the morrow?"
"Aye, first light," Robb confirmed, before turning towards the Smalljon. "Make sure you inform the men, and then get some rest. I know I am more than ready to retire for the night," he instructed him, and the Smalljon voiced his agreement before bowing his head and making his way from the room once more. "Goodnight, Master Hellman," Robb nodded to him, "gentlemen," he added, inclining his head in turn to them. "Thank you for you gracious hospitality," he finished, smiling between them all before he turned and made his way from the parlour. He breathed a sigh of relief once out in the hallway, glad that the troubles had been so easily fixed, and even more glad that he would be on his way home come first light.
His thoughts strayed to Myrcella as he climbed the stairs and walked easily towards his chamber for the night. He could not help but think of her sleeping alone, and his mind wandered to how soft and lovely she felt in his arms. Gods he could not wait to get back to her, to be with her entirely again and feel her bare against him once more. Just thinking about her was enough to elicit a stirring in his breeches, and he swallowed hard, trying to think about something else. Anything else. He let himself into the chamber that had been set aside for him, knowing just from an initial glance that it was the finest guest chamber in the keep. He eyed the desk in the corner and crossed to it, not feeling quite ready to sleep just yet.
He decided to write to his wife. His wife. It still felt strange to associate that title with her. For so many years she had been his unknown and unwanted betrothed. Now she was his wife, and though he could not claim to know everything of her, he did know enough to be sure that he wanted her. He pulled some parchment towards him and loaded one of the quills set to the side with ink from the pot. For a moment he wavered, wondering how he should address her. In the end he settled on simply writing her name instead of her title. He wrote that he was well and that the trouble at Torrhen's Square had been dealt with. He wrote that he would stay one night within the keep and then begin the journey back to Winterfell. Back to her. He couldn't help but tell her that he couldn't wait to be with her again, to have her in his arms again. That was not something he had ever imagined writing to her, and yet it all came so easily to him now.
Being apart from her, even just for this short time, had made him appreciate just how much of an impact she had on his everyday life. He missed her smile. Her voice. Her laugh. He missed the way she teased him and the pressure of her hand on his arm as they walked their familiar loop around the gardens. He missed the softness of her skin. The way her fingers traced the scar above the crease in his elbow. Her body beneath his. The gasp that left her mouth when he pressed kisses along her neck. Her warmth. Her glorious warmth, and her even breath against his chest as she drifted to sleep in his arms. Gods. He put the quill down and put his head in his hands. Thinking about Myrcella this way was something he had thought impossible not so long ago. She had captivated him though. Enchanted him before he knew what was happening. He couldn't be sorry though. So long ago before everything had gone wrong he had dreamt of having a wife he could be truly happy with. Against all the odds he had found one, and he could not wait to get back to Winterfell to be with her once more.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed, more soon!
:)
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