One of Renly's Rainbow Guard arrived at sunset to collect Robb. The Rainbow Guard was Renly's version of the Kingsguard where each knight wore a cape bearing a different color of the rainbow. There was Ser Robar the Red, Bryce Caron the Orange, Ser Emmon the Yellow, Ser Guyard the Green, Brienne the Blue, Ser Parmen the Purple, and Ser Loras was the Lord Commander.
The northern king was skeptical of the group. Brienne and Bryce Caron were not Robb's worry, as the lord of Nightsong looked old enough to have fought in the Greyjoy Rebellion and Brienne had put her skills on display when the northern warriors had first arrived in the camp. Other than those two, all the others were said to be great tourney knights, but war wasn't a tourney. When you get knocked down, you don't get back up.
Ser Robar was who Renly sent to collect Robb. Robar was the second son of Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone. Robb vaguely remembered the man known as 'Bronze Yohn' when he had visited Winterfell as he made his way north to bring his son Waymar to the Wall. His father had always spoken highly of Lord Royce, both as a warrior and man.
His son Robar seemed to take after his father in both regards. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with well-trimmed brown hair and pale eyes. The silver armor he wore was filigreed in bronze with runes of the first men, slightly contrasting with the red cape that trailed his every step. When he spoke, he sounded sincere and casual.
"Any news from your father?" Robb asked, trying to make conversation. Robar's face fell slightly as he shook his head.
"Lady Lysa is keeping the Vale locked up tight. Not allowing any ravens in or out," he said sadly. "The last thing I heard from my father was that he would try to reason with Lady Arryn in favor of joining the war and saving Ned Stark. It seems that his words had little success."
"I applaud your father's dedication to his friendship to my father, but I'm not sure how much the forces of the Vale would have helped looking back now. Joffrey is a cruel, foolish bastard. I wouldn't put it past him to kill my father out of spite rather than any real want for justice." Robb said grimly. "If it makes any consolation to you, Ser Robar, I am glad to have you part of this war. House Royce has always been praised by my father. If there ever comes a time where you are in need of someone to serve, I would be more than happy to have you."
Robar smiled. "Maybe one day we'll drink and swap war stories in the halls of King's Landing when Renly claims the throne."
Robb smiled as well. "Or maybe one day you can travel up to Winterfell and I can show you how we northerners feast."
The two young men shared a laugh, a rare thing in war. The friendship between their fathers and mutual respect for each other allowed them to become fast friends. If there was ever a kingdom that could relate to Northmen, it was the Vale. There, ideals like honor and loyalty ran deep, just like the North.
"What do you think about the Rainbow Guard, my lord?" Robar asked curiously. "I hear you keep a guard of your own?"
"I do," Robb answered. "My battle guard. Young nobles like myself who are trying to prove themselves in war. I would say that we are a group of friends rather than a king and his guard. As for the Rainbow Guard, I am rather skeptical."
Robar raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I mean no offense, but most of you have not fought in battle. You are great in tournaments, but the two are not the same." Robb explained plainly. "The Kingsguard are said to be the best knights in the realm. I hate the Kingslayer, but I can not say that he is not one of the deadliest knights in the kingdom."
Robb nodded slowly. "I see what you mean, my lord."
Just before they reached Renly's tent, Robb stopped and looked at the red-cloaked man. "Ser Robar, our fathers are friends, and I do not wish to create bad blood between us. You asked me a question, and I have answered."
Robar nodded again. "I understand, my lord. I thank you for your honesty. Hopefully, if all goes well tonight, I can show the warrior I am in battle."
Robb was about to respond when Brienne, who was standing guard outside, interrupted the conversation. The giant woman was armored in blue-tinted steel-plate with a blue cape hanging from her shoulders.
"His grace is inside, Lord Stark." The giant woman stated.
Robb nodded. "Thank you, my lady." He turned back to Robar. "Until we share wine in King's Landing."
"Or in Winterfell, my lord," Robar replied.
Line Break
Robb stepped into the tent, which was now warmly glowing thanks to a brazier and many candles. Renly was still dressed in his armor, standing at his desk as he read reports. He looked up when Robb entered, smiling.
"Ah, Robb. I see you're back to hear my decision."
Robb nodded. "Aye, I am," he answered simply. He wasn't here to beat around the bush or exchange false compliments. He wanted an answer, and he wanted it now.
Renly nodded slowly. "I must say, I am sorry for the way my brother acted today. I was not expecting what we saw today. I guess religion can reach every man, even the icicle that is my brother."
Robb frowned. "I want an answer, Renly," Robb said, not hiding the fact that he was becoming annoyed.
Renly glanced at him as if he was a small boy talking back to his father. "You know your father was much the same way. Ignorant of the ways we do things in the south. He thought if he came down here, tried to pass off his aggressive, northern style of negotiating, that he would last long. He didn't."
Robb's hand fell dangerously to the hilt of Claw. "Do not insult my father Renly. He saved your life. Don't forget that."
Renly waved aside his anger. "You want the truth Robb, you must be ready to hear it. Your father tried to bull his way through the sycophants and lickspittles of King's Landing. Eventually, he got lost in it all and was stabbed so many times, he died where he was. Do not be the bull, Robb."
Renly and Robb glared at each other, the King in the South versus the King in the North. One was older and politically motivated while the other was younger and driven by justice.
Robb breathed deeply, reigning in his temper. When he was sure he could talk calmly, he spoke again. "My apologies Renly. But you must understand, I have been away from my men for too long. I want to win this war, just like you. That is why I am here. I believe that together, we can win. We can beat the Lannisters and we can beat Joffrey. I already told you. The Iron Throne is yours, I want nothing to do with it."
Renly looked at Robb. "What will you do if we win?"
"I will take Joffrey's head," Robb said firmly. "Then I will bring my sisters, my father's bones, and my family sword back to Winterfell. The North and the Riverlands will secede from the seven kingdoms, and I will rule as king from Winterfell."
"And you won't come south again," Renly said.
"Not unless I have to," Robb answered.
"What about the Westerlands?" Renly asked curiously. "I understand you sent men there."
"I did," Robb said. "The lords of the Riverlands wanted revenge for what the Mountain has done."
"Will it be part of your kingdom?"
Robb shrugged. "Don't rightly know yet. That can be discussed at a later date, don't you think?"
Renly nodded, stroking his finely trimmed beard. "Well Robb," he started to say, "I think…." he was cut off when an angry wind blew through the tent.
Robb's hand instantly went to his sword, half drawing it in one motion. The candles in the tent flickered and wavered, in some cases going out, casting uneven shadows across the tent. Renly was confused as he looked around the tent. Robb was doing the same when he saw something rise from behind Renly. A shadowy black being that looked vaguely like Stannis Baratheon.
"Renly!" Robb shouted, rushing towards him. Renly turned and let out a surprised grunt as his body went limp. Robb could see the tip of a smokey blade sticking out his back, cutting through Renly's armor like it was nothing.
It was at that moment Brienne and Robar entered the tent, their swords drawn, their eyes instantly drawn to the shadow figure and the limp form of Renly. Brienne let out a guttural cry as she rushed the being, tears streaming from her face. But as large as she was, she was batted away as if she weighed nothing. Robar tried his luck next, swinging his blade at a vicious arc at the creature, but his sword just passed through the being as if it was never there. Robar was then thrown aside as well.
Both of Renly's protectors had been dispatched by the shadow demon, leaving Robb alone with the damn thing. Robb had felt fear before, but nothing like this. Not even when the Kingslayer had carved a path through Robb's men trying to kill him.
Jaime Lannister had been a living being. This thing wasn't.
Robb ripped Claw from its scabbard and charged the demon. Like with Robar and Brienne, it tried to swat Robb aside, but the northern warrior was ready. He ducked under the shadowy arm and brought his sword up, cutting the demon from right hip to left shoulder. The smoky being let out a silent scream that broke every glass in the tent before it exploded, sending Robb flying back. The northern king landed heavily on the desk that held Renly's reports, breaking it in two.
As he was losing consciousness, he vaguely saw Ser Loras and a dozen Tyrell guardsmen burst into the tent with their swords drawn. Loras went red with anger and grief when he saw the dead body of his lover. He pointed his blade at the slowly rising Brienne and Robar, ordering their arrests. Before Robb could say anything, he slipped into darkness.
Line Break
"Where am I?" Robb wondered aloud, looking around at the shadow that surrounded him. He looked down at himself. He still wore his northern armor and had Claw at his side. He then reached up, feeling the cold metal of his crown. The only thing he felt was a slight discomfort in his back.
"Somewhere you shouldn't be. Not for a long time." A voice said from the darkness.
Robb looked up, not recognizing the voice. His handed drifted to Claw, looking around at the darkness.
"Who goes there?"
The voice laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that boomed all around the northern king. "I mean you no harm, Young Wolf."
"Show yourself!" Robb demanded.
From the shadows in front of Robb emerged a man who looked very much like a Stark. He had dark brown hair, stone-grey eyes, and a long, hard face. His hair fell in loose curls and the man had a rough beard that covered his jaw. In his hands was a massive greatsword that he leaned against one shoulder while a giant wolf, nearly the same height as the man, sat next to him. On his head was a crown almost identical to the one Robb wore now.
"Hello, Robb." The man said with a small smile. "I am Torrhen Stark."
Robb was speechless. Torrhen Stark was the last King in the North before he gave up his crown to Aegon the Conqueror, earning him the title of 'the King Who Knelt'. He had died over two hundred years ago.
"Am I dead?"
Torrhen Stark laughed again. "No, lad, you are not dead. Hopefully, once this meeting is over, you will live a long and adventurous life," the man's face grew a little more serious. "I asked to see you."
"Asked to see me? Wha...Why?" Robb asked.
"Because there are things you should know, Robb." The man explained. "The first is this: After the Long Night, direwolves and the Stark Kings have always been close friends. Bane here was as much a symbol of my kingship as my crown. There was a prophecy that, when direwolves and Starks came together again, the era northern kings would soon follow."
Robb looked at the massive direwolf before back at the dead stark. "So when I found that dead direwolf…."
Torrhen nodded. "You started the prophecy that would ultimately put a crown on your head."
"So the myths about ancient Stark Kings having direwolves, those were all true?" Robb asked.
"They were," Torrhen answered. "When I knelt before the Targaryen, Bane vanished that night, he and all the others."
Robb nodded, still trying to wrap his head around it all. "Alright, I think that makes sense." He said. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"There are many things I wish I could share with you, Robb. Unfortunately, I am rather limited." Torrhen said. "No man may mess with destiny, not even a dead one."
"Limited?" Robb asked. "What are you talking about? How are we even talking?"
Torrhen gestured to the darkness around them. "What you see is darkness." He explained. "I see something different, something indescribably to the living. All I can say is that this is the realm of the Old Gods."
"The Old Gods?" Robb breathed.
Torrhen nodded. "Aye, the Old Gods. They are the reason you and I are talking…." Thunder boomed in the distance, causing the dead stark to frown sadly. "That's my warning. As I said, I am limited with the information I can give and we do not have long. No more questions and listen to what I have to say."
Robb nodded.
"I have explained our connection to direwolves. The second thing is this: you have more allies than you realize. Continue to be you, Robb Stark, and remember your friends. You will need them when the time comes. Finally," Torrhen went to say before hesitating.
"What?" Robb asked.
"That is all I can tell you." The ghost said sadly. "I wish I could tell you more, but I can't."
As Torrhen spoke, his image began to fade, his voice slowly growing softer. Just before he disappeared completely.
"Do not tell anyone we had this discussion, Robb Stark. They will not believe you, but do not forget what was said." Torrhen warned before he was gone.
With that, Robb was once again left alone in the darkness, thoughts and questions swirling like a sea storm in his head. What allies had his ancestor been talking about? Why could he not tell anyone about their discussion? What all had he left out?
While Robb was still thinking these things, he felt his eyes grow heavy and begin to close, his body suddenly light as he once again fell back into unconsciousness.