Robb had woken a few times, but they were random fragments of memory, blurry and unclear. The only thing he could remember was the soft voice that told him to drink. He remembered the cool, clean water sliding down his throat before he drifted back off to sleep.
When Robb opened his eyes this time, he was at first confused at what he was seeing. It was a wood, not the cloth roof of Renly's tent that he had remembered before he had blacked out.
With a groan, Robb brought a hand up to wipe his face before running it through his hair. It was then he noticed that he was on a bed, with an actual pillow under his head. He was also aware that he was only wearing a pair of breeches. He could feel his bare toes wiggling against the blanket that covered his bottom half.
When Robb tried to sit up, there was terrible pain throughout his back. It felt like a stampede of horses had run over him after a lumberjack had taken his axe to his back. Robb couldn't remember a time when he had been in so much pain in his life. It was unbearable, and just sitting up almost caused Robb to blackout once again.
With a choked cry of pain, Robb crumbled back down onto the mattress.
"You're awake!" A voice cried from next to him. Robb turned his head to see Margaery rising quickly from a chair next to the bed. The girl had obviously just woken up. Her hair, which had once been neatly braided, was slowly coming loose as numerous strands of hair waved in front of her face. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed from stress and worry, but she still looked like an angel to Robb.
She rushed over to him, helping him lie back down. "How are you feeling?" She asked frantically, grabbing a nearby pitcher and pouring a glass of water for Robb. With her off-hand, she held Robb's head up slightly as he took a drink from the cup.
"I feel like my back was trampled by a herd of horses," Robb groaned weakly. He looked around the room. "Where am I? How many days has it been?"
"You're at Bitterbridge, Robb. It's been a week," Margaery answered. "What happened that night? What happened in Renly's tent?"
Robb grimaced. "Renly's dead, isn't he?" He asked, Margaery's face already giving him an answer. He sighed, rubbing his face. "Renly and I were talking. He….he was telling me about southern politics and was about to give me an answer when things in the tent changed."
Margaery touched his arm gently. Robb couldn't help but notice how soft and warm her hands were. "Changed how?"
Robb ground his teeth, working through the pain that was coursing through his back. "The candles went out and the wind picked up when the damn thing rose out of the ground. He had the face of Stannis Baratheon. I tried to warn Renly, I called his name, but it was too late. When Renly turned around, that….thing put his hand through Renly's chest." Robb answered in a hoarse whisper. "Brienne and Robar must have heard me yell because they rushed into the tent with their weapons drawn. Both of them were batted aside as if they weighed nothing. Robar swung at the creature, but his sword went through the demon like it wasn't even there. It disappeared when my sword touched it."
Margaery went pale as Robb told his story. "Brienne said the same thing." She breathed quietly. "No one believed her. Loras is convinced that you killed him."
Robb shook his head. "I would never kill Renly."
Margaery stroked his hair. "I know Robb," she said quietly. She then realized what she was doing and dropped her hand back down to her lap, much to Robb's sadness. "How was your sword able to harm it but not Ser Robar's?"
Robb looked around the room, his eyes quickly finding his sword. "Unsheath it," he said, nodding to it.
Margaery quickly grabbed the sword and unsheathed it, taking in the dark ripples patterned on the blade. "It's valyrian steel," she said softly.
Robb nodded slightly. "Aye. I don't know why it was the only weapon able to hurt it, but it did. What happened after I blacked out?"
Margaery sheathed the blade and leaned it against the bed, her face turning red with embarrassment. "Loras was….enraged. The worst I've ever seen him. He and Renly have always been close…." She said before Robb interrupted her.
"They were lovers, weren't they," he said, his voice gentle and understanding. Margaery nodded slightly.
"Loras loved Renly. When he found the three of you and Renly dead, he went mad with rage Robb. He had Brienne and Robar imprisoned, and was close to executing them on the spot for failure to protect their king. Only the intervention of your companions stopped him. My brother then had your friends imprisoned as well, for conspiring with a kingslayer. He was about to have you join them when my grandmother intervened. She said that as a king, you deserve better. You were also grievously wounded."
"My father sided with Loras and your friends, Robar, and Brienne were imprisoned. My grandmother and I were able to convince my father that we should deal with them here at Bitterbridge, where you could heal and my brother Garlan and I could work on talking down Loras." She finished, pouting. "It's been no use. He's bent on vengeance for Renly."
"Where is your brother now?" Robb asked.
Margaery looked towards the door. "He's in the hall right now. He's done waiting, Robb. He's ready to kill your friends."
Robb shook his head angrily, his mind becoming instantly clear and focused at the thought of his friend's death. He tried to rise, but once again, the pain and his back caused him to fall back down. With a growl, he rolled onto his side, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed till he was able to sit up, one hand instantly grasping his sword for support. After taking a few breaths, he shoved himself to his feet, swaying perilously. His back was still in immense pain, but the Young Wolf shoved that to the back of his mind. There was no time for him to stay in bed, not when his friends needed him.
"He won't," Robb growled.
Margaery nodded, grabbing a nearby shirt and helping Robb into it. Her hands briefly touched Robb's toned stomach, but her touch was soon replaced with the shirt as it was over his arms and it fell loose around his waist.
With his sword acting like a cane in his right hand and Margaery supporting him on his left, Robb began to walk towards the hall, shuffling painfully. The halls were filled with art and banners, but Robb ignored it all, his mind solely focused on his next step and bringing himself closer to the great hall and his friends.
Two men in Tyrell livery stood guard at the door. When Robb came into view, they went to stop him, but a snap command from Margaery stopped them.
"Open the doors." She ordered.
The guards nodded quickly and pushed the doors open, allowing Robb and Margaery to shuffle into the room, right in the middle of the trial.
Brienne, Ser Robar, Dacey, Smalljon, and Daryn were all bound and gagged on their knees in front of a dais where Mace Tyrell and most of his family were seated. His wife and two men who looked a lot like Loras sat next to him while the Knight of Flowers himself paced the ground in front of the stand like a caged lion, glaring at the six prisoners. Lady Olenna stood off to the side, not bothering to hide her disappointment with her son and grandson.
All eyes turned to Robb and Margaery when they walked in, but Robb didn't care. He noticed bruises on his friend's arms and faces, fresh ones. Loras locked eyes with him.
Robb could feel the hate radiating off him. He pointed at the northern king."
"Guards!" He screamed, pointing at the King in the North. "Arrest…."
But he got no further. Margaery stepped forward from under the arm of Robb. "You will do no such thing Loras!"
Loras turned his glare on her. "Stay out of this Margaery." He shouted. "This man murdered Renly!"
Robb growled. Adrenaline was racing through his body, giving him energy. He stepped up next to Margaery, standing a little straighter. "I did no such thing, you stupid fool!" He roared back. "Renly was killed by an assassin sent by Stannis Baratheon. Myself, Brienne, and Robar had nothing to do with it."
Loras snorted. "You honestly think I believe you," he said disdainfully. "You killed Renly because you were jealous of him. He wasn't going to agree to your pathetic alliance and so you killed him for it."
Robb took a deep breath, calming himself. "I swear on my honor as a Stark that I, nor my men, nor Brienne and Ser Robar had anything to do with the murder of Renly Baratheon." He looked around the room, where many of the lords and knights of the Reach were standing. "Who here is willing to challenge my oath?"
No one spoke or even whispered to take up Robb's challenge. Loras looked around, trying to find an ally, but none stepped forward. He looked back at his father, his only friend in the whole ordeal.
"Father." He pleaded. But even Mace Tyrell shook his head.
"I can not dispute his claim Loras," he said quietly. "The members of House Stark are many things, but they are above all honorable and truthful."
Loras's face turned red with rage and sadness. He turned on Robb. "Fine!" He snapped. "Who did it?"
Robb nodded to his companions. "Untie them first," he ordered.
Loras hesitated but nodded. A group of guardsmen stepped forward and took off the gags and chains. Robb's companions and the two Rainbow Guards rubbed their wrists and faces, looking gratefully at Robb and glaring at Loras.
"It was the priestess that Stannis had with him. The thing that killed Renly was a shadow that looked like Stannis Baratheon. I don't know how she did it, but I know she had something to do with it." Robb explained. "By the time I saw it appear, I tried to warn Renly, but I was too late. When Brienne and Ser Robar tried to attack it, their swords did nothing and they were swatted aside like flies. Only my sword was able to destroy it."
Lady Olenna stepped forward. "His grace's story matches that of Brienne and Ser Robar," she said. "But that leaves one question: How was your blade able to harm it, but not theirs?"
All eyes turned to Robb, who drew his sword, holding it all for all to see. "My blade is made of valyrian steel," he stated.
The man on Mace's left spoke up now, leaning forward. He had long, curly hair and a well-trimmed beard. He sat weirdly in his seat, with one leg sticking out straight. He had an ornate cane held loosely in one hand.
"Valyrian steel can only be forged using dragon fire. Dragons are typically related to magic," he said, connecting the dots. "It makes sense that his grace's sword was the only thing that could harm it."
The mention of dragons triggered something in Robb's memory. "Where's my wolf?" He asked dangerously.
Loras crossed his arms. "It's in the kennel," he replied.
Robb was ready to strangle the pompous knight, but he checked his anger. "Release him," he ordered. "Now!"
Loras nodded to two guardsmen, who quickly left. Robb glared at the youngest Tyrell. "I came here seeking an alliance because I thought I could work with Renly and his council. If this is how justice is dispensed in the Reach, maybe I should rethink my decision." Robb growled, glaring at the others present as well.
The men of the Reach had the decency to look ashamed of how they had allowed the Tyrell knight to act. None of them had been there when Renly's body had been discovered, and they had just followed Loras's lead, feeding off his anger and passion. Now that Robb was calling them out, they realized just how foolish they all had been.
Loras went red. "You have no right to judge us Stark," he said, seething at Robb's words.
Robb glared back, not giving an inch. "We do not beat our prisoners in the North, nor do we throw unconscious men in prison before his wounds could be healed." He spat, taking a personal shot at Loras. "We do not rush justice, especially when a king has died."
The Knight of Flowers glared at his sister, his eyes making it very clear that he felt betrayed. She was the only one who could have told Robb that Loras had tried to have him thrown in the dungeons, even though the Young Wolf had been unconscious and injured.
The two guards who had been sent to free Greywind had returned, the giant grey wolf bounding towards its master. Robb patted his friend and protector absently while he stared around the room, having an odd feeling about something. When Greywind was done making sure Robb was fine, he turned towards Loras, baring his massive teeth.
"No," Robb ordered softly. Greywind looked up at him, confused. Nevertheless, the direwolf sat where he was and faced Loras. Finally, Robb figured out what was different. "Where are the lords of the Stormlands?"
Lady Olenna spoke up. "The night Renly died, Stannis besieged Storm's End. The reports you fell on projected his troops and advisors. When it was confirmed that Renly was indeed dead, Stannis stopped the siege and called the lords of the Stormlands to his banner." She said gravely. "Only a few remain now, your grace."
"Who stayed?" Robb asked.
"House Tarth and House Caron." The man with the cane answered. Robb looked at him.
"I don't believe I know your name ser," he said apologetically. The man smiled kindly.
"Willas Tyrell, your grace." He said with a nod. "Eldest son of Lord Tyrell."
Robb nodded back before turning to Lady Olenna. "Where is Stannis now?"
"He's resumed his siege on Storm's End," she answered. "Renly's castellan refused to hand the castle over after news of Renly's death."
"His army has swelled from five thousand to near twenty-five thousand overnight," Willas said grimly. "With that kind of strength and the royal fleet under his command, he's now a serious player in this sad affair."
"Not for long," Robb said, shaking his head. "Renly was many things, but he did not deserve the death he got." Robb's face became hard. "No man is as accursed as a kinslayer and I mean to make those words mean something to Stannis."
He then turned to Loras. "You and I have been at odds ever since I arrived here but I am offering you revenge against the man who murdered your king. Will you accept?" He asked. He then addressed the rest of the Reachmen and Stormlanders. "Will you all accept? Vengeance for Renly?"
A man stepped forward. He wore plain steel armor with a massive greatsword strapped across his back. His head was completely bald, with a grey, bristly beard covering his lower face. The expression on his face could have been made from iron.
"Your men call you the Young Wolf," he stated. "I've studied how you have attacked the Lannisters, and the results speak for themselves. If you lead us then House Tarly will follow."
Another man stepped forward. His tabard showing the golden tree of House Rowan. He was a stout and clean-shaven man. "I remember your father when he accepted our surrender at Storm's End. You remind me of him, your grace. House Rowan will fight with you." He promised.
One by one, lords and knights stepped forward, offering their swords and men. Robb remained stoic while this happened. When all men had made their promises, Robb turned to look at House Tyrell. Lady Olenna was nodding at him with approval. Loras still looked unsure, caught between his hate for Robb and his love for Renly. Mace Tyrell just looked confused, and a little angry that his bannermen were swearing themselves to Robb.
Fortunately, the issue was taken out of his hand. The second man, who sat next to Willas, stood up and walked towards Robb. He had shaggy, close-cropped hair and a rough beard. He was tall and broad, bigger than Loras and more fit than Willas. On his green tabard, he wore two golden roses.
"My name is Garlan Tyrell, second son of Lord Tyrell," he said, introducing himself when he was in front of Robb. "House Tyrell has not acted its finest these past few days, I will admit." He continued loud enough for everyone to hear. Robb knew that Loras and Lord Tyrell were probably glaring at Garlan for admitting they were in the wrong, but it didn't look like he cared.
"If you will have us, your grace, then House Tyrell will fight with you. To avenge Renly Baratheon, who was a friend of our house, and to rectify the wrongs done to you and your men."
Robb was silent at first, although he already knew his answer. "You are known as Garlan 'The Gallant' are you not?"
Garlan smiled slightly and nodded. "An undeserved title," he said humbly. "I much prefer Garlan."
Robb smiled as the two grasped forearms.
"I accept."
Line Break
"How do you feel, Lord Stark?" The maester asked, looking over Robb's injured back. The entire area between his neck and waist was a discolored mass of bruises. Robb had no idea what it looked like, the pain he felt was unbearable. He couldn't do anything without feeling a burning pain flare-up.
"Like I've been stampeded." Robb groaned, feeling his back stiffen up. "Do you have anything to help with the pain?"
The maester shook his head sadly, helping the young monarch put his shirt back on. "I'm afraid all I can continue to offer is small amounts of Milk of the Poppy."
Robb sighed and nodded, waiting as the Maester poured a small amount of the white liquid into a cup for him to drink, mixing it with a small amount of wine. He held the chalice up to Robb.
"Poppy wine," he explained. "A Dothraki invention. It won't put you to sleep, but it will ease the pain."
Robb nodded and downed the liquid. The wine tasted weird because of the milky-white substance in it, But he drank it regardless, instantly feeling the effects of the poppy coursing through his back, causing the pain to grow numb.
Robb handed the chalice back to the maester. "Thank you," he said. "Do you know when I'll be able to fight again?"
The maester shook his head. "Weeks," he said firmly. "Your back needs time to heal. I understand you are at war, but the more you can rest, the better. I would also advise you to go about in just clothing for a time, your grace. Your armor would put too much strain on your back."
Robb sighed but nodded. "Thank you maester."
The man nodded and went to leave, but the door opened before he got it. It was Garlan, who looked slightly out of breath. The second son of Mace Tyrell nodded briefly to the maester before looking at Robb.
"An emissary from King's Landing, your grace." He said. "My father and Willas are meeting with him now."
Robb nodded and grabbed his sword, as well as the walking staff that had been found for him, and followed Garlan out of the room, the two walking quickly towards the lord's solar.
"Had Lady Olenna been told?" Robb asked curiously, doing his best to keep up with the other man.
Garlan nodded. "She has. Willas only told me when he was being dragged into the meeting."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"
Garlan sighed. "Willas and I are afraid of what our father might agree to," he admitted. "He's a good man, but when he thinks he's doing right by our house, it never seems to go well."
It didn't take long for the two men to reach the Lord's solar, hearing talking coming from inside. Garlan nodded at both the guards and opened the door, interrupting the meeting going on inside.
Mace Tyrell, flanked by Willas, sat across from another man. He was short, with a slender build and sharp features. Streaks of grey ran through his black hair, though the pointed beard on his chin remained untouched. He was dressed in fine, grey clothing and had a small bird pin on his chest.
"Garlan?" Mace asked, standing up. "What are you doing here? This is a private meeting."
"I asked him to grab our guest," Willas said. "I thought King Robb here should hear what Lord Baelish has to say."
Mace went a little red but managed to keep his composure. "Well….alright," he said finally, retaking his seat.
Robb looked at the new man, nodding his head. "I understand you come from King's Landing."
The man bowed. "Petyr Baelish, your grace, Master of Coin," he said, introducing himself.
"Otherwise known as 'Littlefinger'." someone said from the doorway. Lady Olenna hobbled in, flanked by her twin giants as always. When she entered, she shot a glare towards her son before looking back at Baelish. "I assume you are here to ask my family to pledge their loyalty to Joffrey."
Baelish nodded. "As always, my lady, you are very perceptive."
Olenna waved aside the compliment. "Save your breath. I've heard compliments from hundreds of men and I do not need yours. Say what you came here to say."
"King Joffrey has instructed me to ask that Lord Tyrell, and the Reach, pledge their loyalty to him as the true of Westeros. In return, his grace will place aside his betrothal with Sansa Stark for your daughter, Lady Margaery," he said, looking at Mace.
The Lord of Highgarden's eyes lit up when the marriage to King Joffrey was mentioned. But before he could speak, his mother beat him to the punch.
"I am afraid you have arrived a day too late, my lord. My granddaughter is already betrothed to Robb Stark, and the Reach has declared its loyalty to him as King in the North." Lady Olenna snapped.
Mace's face went from excitement to confusion as he looked from Baelish to his mother to Robb, who was gazing evenly at the Queen of Thorns, who kept her gaze on Baelish.
Willas spoke up now. "My grandmother is right. My sister is promised to the King in the North."
Baelish raised an eyebrow. "That was rather….quick," he commented innocently.
"Such is the way of war, Lord Baelish," Robb said.
Littlefinger looked at Robb, a pleasant smile spreading across his face. "Do you know I grew up with your mother and uncle in Riverrun?"
Robb nodded. "So I've heard, but I also remember that you challenged my Uncle Brandon for her hand, and you lost." he pointed out.
Baelish raised an eyebrow at Robb's unwelcoming tone. "Surely, your grace, we can be civil."
Robb frowned. "Forgive me, my lord, but anyone who serves Joffrey in any aspect is my enemy. The boy killed my father and holds my sisters hostage. You will find very little civility from me."
Baelish nodded. "Of course," he said. "Well, I can see that this is a lost cause. I will take my leave," he said, bowing to Lord Mace and Robb before leaving the room.
When the man was gone, Olenna closed the door and glared at her son. "Mace, what on earth were you thinking?"
The Lord of Highgarden shifted in his seat. "I thought it would be best to hear the man out," he said, trying to get away from the old woman's stern gaze.
The Queen of Thorns scoffed. "Don't lie to me Mace. You knew very well what the man would offer. You thought you could put Margaery on the throne and pull our support from the Starks." she hissed. "Thankfully, Willas had the good sense to send for me and King Robb to save you from making a mistake."
Mace sat upright. "I had no such intention," he argued.
"Whether it was your intention or not, my lord, Baelish has his answer now," Robb said, showing a little more respect to the man than Olenna was. "And it seems I am to marry your daughter."
Olenna shrugged. "It was more so to convince Baelish to bugger off," she said. "But the possibility is not improbable. My informants tell me that Edmure Tully has married Roslin Frey, the woman you were supposed to marry. You are now a free man, your grace."
Robb raised his eyebrow. "Curious," he said. He looked towards Mace, who still looked a little confused with the whole ordeal. "If no one has any objections, I would be more than happy to take Margaery as my wife."
Willas grinned and got up from his seat, holding out a hand. "Then I'll be the first to congratulate you, your grace," he said, grasping arms with Robb. "Though I must warn you, the rose has thorns."
"And brothers," Garlan added with a mock growl, before smiling and taking Robb's arm as well. "We'd be happy to have you as a good-brother."
Robb grinned, looking at both men, before turning his gaze to Lord Mace, who was still sitting. "My lord, you are her father. I would like your opinion."
Mace looked at Robb, his gold-brown eyes meeting Robb's blue ones. After a moment, he nodded. "I would be happy to have you as my good-son," he said, rising from his seat. "At least I know she will be happy with a man of honor," he said, offering his hand as well.
Robb grasped his arm. "I swear I will treat her right, my lord."
Mace nodded, a small smile coming to his chubby face. "I know, your grace. You, Starks, are truly one of a kind."