As soon as Robb entered the room, he knew that he was in for a thrashing. Margaery was sitting at the table, her arms crossed with a dangerous and hurt look in her eye. Greywind, who would normally be jumping up to lick Robb's face after such a long time away, had remained where he was by the fire. It seems that the giant wolf was just as fearful of the queen's temper as his master was.
"I can explain…." Robb started when he closed the door, but he was immediately cut off.
"I'm sure you can," Margaery snapped. "You did a perfectly fine job in the council chambers."
Robb resisted the urge to sigh and took a seat next to his wife, sitting so that he was facing her. "Margaery, please understand that I had to keep the secret…."
"Yes, from all but your family, which includes me!" Margaery hissed. "Have you forgotten that my name is also Stark?"
"Of course not," Robb replied instantly. "It was for Jon's safety that…."
"So you don't trust me," Margaery said, once again cutting Robb off. "Choose your next words very carefully, Robb Stark, or you're sleeping next to the fire with Greywind."
Robb sighed and looked at the wolf before looking back at Margaery. "I didn't tell you because it was not my story to tell. I'm sorry that I never asked Jon if I could tell you, but I didn't see a reason why it ever had to be brought up again."
Margaery's glare diminished slightly, which Robb took as a good sign, but he was far from out of the woods with this. He knew that his wife was angry, but it was amplified by her hurt. If Robb was in her place, he would feel the same.
"I want the whole story," Margaery demanded.
Robb told her everything, every small detail that he had heard from his father and Jon. He also made sure to include any possible explanations for events, none of which had been confirmed as the people in the story, Rhaegar and Lyanna, had been dead and gone for over two decades. To her credit, Margaery stayed silent the entire time, listening to everything Robb said and occasionally nodding her head to signify her understanding. If she had any questions, she kept them to herself so as to not interrupt the flow of the whole sorry tale.
"As I told the council, Jon told Sansa and Arya as they sailed south from the North before the Battle of King's Landing," Robb explained, finishing up. "Lord Reed and Sam only knew because they were in the right place at the right time."
"And now Daenerys Targaryen knows now too," Margaery added, speaking finally. "You're aware that she may try to marry Jon, convince him that he is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."
Robb shook his head firmly. "She could certainly try. Selmy and Mormont did, but it would never work."
"Robb, power is very tempting…." Margaery said, but now it was Robb's turn to interrupt.
"Jon would never do anything to harm his family," Robb replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Jon is a Stark and that's final. He grew up with us and he's our brother. Some woman who grew up in exile in Essos could never change that. Besides, Daenerys would never marry Jon. By law, he'd inherit Dragonstone over her and take any power she has left," Robb then added, "she's also infertile and can't bear children. Prince Doran told us that."
"Can we trust him?" Margaery questioned.
Robb shrugged. "That's a terrible lie to spread if it's not true. Prince Doran doesn't strike me as the kind of man to do such a thing."
Margaery nodded slowly. "Jon is a Stark then, nothing else."
"Nothing else." Robb nodded. "He didn't even want to become a dragon rider, to be perfectly honest. If an army of the undead wasn't crashing down on the Wall, he never would have gone to Dragonstone and Daenerys would still think she's the last Targaryen alive."
"Your brother and father may be the only men who don't desire power." Margaery joked, her mask of anger cracking just slightly.
Robb smiled slightly. He reached out one hand towards her, which she took after a moment. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand while looking at her, once again etching her face into his memory. He thought of her every moment he was away. Every night, he dreamt of her face, the taste of her lips, the feel of her hand in his or her body against his own. He wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh or feel the warmth in his chest whenever he saw her smile.
"I'm truly sorry I never told you about Jon," Robb said softly. "I swear that I will never keep anything from you again."
Margaery's eyes gazed into his before she nodded and replied in the same soft tone:
"Thank you."
Robb waited a moment before launching into what was on his mind. While Margaery was hurt by Robb's secret-keeping, he was extremely worried about what she went through during the attempt on her life.
"You gave Tyrion power and stepped away," Robb said gently. "How bad was the attack?"
"The man should have died a dozen deaths and he continued to fight on." Margaery sighed, her hand gripping Robb's as she thought of that night. "I'm sure you've seen plenty of death, Robb, but when you see a man and know in your heart that he should be dead but he isn't….there's no feeling like it. It's the worst kind of fear."
Robb nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry you've had to experience that, my love. Thank the Old Gods and the New that you nor Torrhen were harmed."
"Indeed. Torrhen seems to remember nothing of the attack." Margaery said. "It took me some time to overcome my….emotions, but I am better now."
It was Robb's turn to look into his wife's eyes and see if she was telling the truth. There was still fear in them, but it was overshadowed by the strength and love that were also there as well. Robb had no doubt that Margaery was a strong woman, a true rose with steel thorns, but he also knew that such an event could wither even the strongest flower. Margaery, thankfully, has bloomed again and stands as tall and as bold as ever.
"Yes, you are." Robb agreed.
Gendry Baratheon
Gendry wasn't sure what to make of the king. He had seen him once, from a distance, but that was it. He had heard stories, of course, there were always plenty of stories in a war camp. Stories about his great grey direwolf, about his beautiful wife. There were even stories that the swords he and his brother Jon carried were the lost ancestral swords of House Targaryen; Dark Sister and Blackfyre. Of all stories, that had been the one that others simply laughed at and ignored.
Now Gendry was walking with Edric and Ser Brynden towards the training grounds where the king's steward said he was. But when the three men reached the area, Gendry didn't see the king, only two men sparring in the middle of the yard. Both wore plain helms, padded vests, and heavy leather gauntlets. Each man wielded a longsword, but one carried a kite shield while the other a round buckler.
The warriors were good, very good. Their strikes were swift, decisive, and delivered with power. Their footwork, from Gendry's limited experience, looked to be right and the men themselves seemed very sure of themselves. They handled their weapons with an immense amount of confidence and familiarity.
The former blacksmith stood quietly by as Ser Brynden muttered to both he and Edric his thoughts about the fight. The old knight would compliment one or both of the fighters before adding a constructive critique about the timing of a strike, the position of a shield, or their footwork.
"Ser Brynden, where is the king?" Gendry asked quietly.
Ser Brynden nodded to the fighter with the wooden buckler. "He's there, lad, and I believe that Lord Harry is across from him. Yohn has done well with him."
"Harry?" Gendry asked, fighting back the feeling of stupidity.
"Lord Harrold Arryn of the Vale," Edric said helpfully. "He's the grandson of Lord Jon Arryn. He took over after Jon's son died during the war."
"Oh," Gendry whispered before shutting up and watching the rest of the fight.
The two fighters were circling each other, lashing out occasionally as the battle became a test of endurance. Their vests and the shirts underneath were soaked with sweat and had dark stains around the collar and under the arms. The man whom Ser Brynden said was Lord Arryn became impatient and charged the king, hammering blow after blow down on him as he forced the man across the yard. The king, to his credit, blocked or parried every strike, but never returned one of his own. Finally, when his back was almost to the wall, he caught Lord Arryn's overhead strike with his shield and planted his foot in the valeman's chest at the same time. Lord Arryn was attempting to bring his shield in to block the kick, but he had just been a hair slow. Now, the king stood over him with one foot planted on his sword and the tip of his blade at his neck.
"I yield." Gendry heard the beaten man say before the king helped him back to his feet.
When both men removed their helmets, Gendry got his first good look at the king. He was a ruggedly handsome man with thick auburn hair and a well-trimmed beard. There was something likable about the king, which Gendry found to be a relief. He wasn't a stuck-up prick nor was he a lazy fool. He seemed to be a good man with a sense of humor given the smiles on his and Lord Arryn's face.
"Uncle, you're back!" a beautiful red-haired woman said as the three men entered the arena. Ser Brynden quickly embraced the woman, hugging her with one hand. When he pulled back, he had a warm smile on his face.
"Sansa," he said happily. "You're a stunning image of your mother."
"You're very kind," Sansa said with a brilliant smile before turning towards Edric and Gendry. Both brothers were trying to keep their chins off the ground. "You have guests?"
"Sansa, this is Edric and Gendry Baratheon, the legitimized sons of Robert Baratheon and the lords of Storm's End." Ser Brynden said, introducing the brothers. "Edric, Gendry, this is my niece Sansa, the king's sister and Lord Arryn's betrothed," he said with a certain look.
Edric was the first to drop into a deep bow, elbowing for Gendry to do the same. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."
Gendry mumbled something close to "yes".
Sansa gave them a slight curtsey. "You both look like your father. Especially you, Lord Gendry."
"Gendry, please." Gendry managed to stutter out. He still wasn't totally comfortable with the title of lord.
"Uncle!" the king said, walking over. Both he and Lord Arryn had done away with their weapons and armor. Now they only wore some sweat-stained clothes and held mugs of water. "Lords Baratheon, I take it."
Edric knelt before the king, an action Gendry quickly copied.
"Your grace," Edric said formally.
King Robb nodded to them. "Stand, please. My Hand has informed me that you both went to acquire antlers for your helms."
"A task both accomplished." Ser Brynden said. "Both were fine kills. Witnessed them myself."
"Forgive me, uncle, but what was your purpose there?" the king asked curiously.
"They asked me to witness the event since there are no other males in their house." Ser Brynden explained. "A request I was more than willing to accept."
"Very well." King Robb nodded. "Lord Edric, I know that you have been raised in Storm's End. Where do you hail from, Lord Gendry."
"He prefers Gendry, Robb," Sansa said.
Robb raised an eyebrow and glanced at Gendry before looking back at his sister. "Arya would like him," he said before looking back at the former smith, waiting for his answer.
"I'm from here in King's Landing, your grace," Gendry answered awkwardly. "I trained under Master Mott on the Street of Steel before I was let go."
"Tobho Mott?" Lord Arryn asked, stunned.
"Yes, my lord." Gendry replied, remembering that Edric had instructed him to say 'my lord' instead of 'm'lord' like always did.
"He's the foremost smith in the city." the king mused. "Why were you let go?"
Gendry shook his head. "I was never given a straight answer, sire. I joined a group of Night's Watch recruits heading north, but we were attacked on the road."
The king raised an eyebrow again and tugged at his beard. "Attacked, you say? By who?"
"Gold Cloaks," Gendry said. "They were looking for someone, I suppose. I escaped and was then captured by the Lannisters. Lord Tywin put me to work as a smith before you defeated his army and I found work in your camp." he nodded at the Blackfish. "Thanks to Ser Brynden, mainly."
"I knew he was one of Robert's." Ser Brynden explained. "Looks just like him when Robert was his age."
"King's Landing." the king muttered. "You must have been one of Robert's bastards that Cersei was trying to kill."
"She sent soldiers after me too." Edric nodded. "She was trying to eliminate the rest of our father's….children so that there could be no comparison."
"That she was." Ser Brynden nodded.
"That's why your father came to see me?" Gendry asked, looking at the king and Sansa.
"Our father saw you?" the king asked.
"Yes, Lord Stark." Gendry nodded. "He came to see me, as did Lord Arryn before him. After his arrest is when Master Mott dismissed me."
A look of understanding came across the king's face. "Lord Arryn and Stannis Baratheon were the first to look into Robert's natural children. Father must have looked into the same. That's why they sought you out." he explained. "He must have also been the one to have you dismissed from Master Mott. He must've known that you would be in trouble if Cersei took power."
"The Night's Watch is supposed to be outside the crown's power." Edric pointed out.
"That wouldn't stop Cersei," Sansa said, looking grave. "She ordered the slaughter of our father's household guard and destroyed Robert's will that placed my father as Regent. To her, power was a weapon to be used against any and all."
The small group became silent for a moment as they thought about the atrocities that had occurred under the reign of Cersei and her mad son Joffrey. Robb and Margaery were not blind to the fact that things could have become so much worse if either of them had been allowed to live.
"Well, you're both alive and I am appreciative of your presence here in the capital," Robb said, changing the subject.
"Your grace, there is something more that these young men have." Ser Brynden said. "Gendry carries the axe of Durran Godsgrief."
"The what?" Robb asked, confused.
"The Green Man gave it to me," Gendry explained. "He said that it was the axe used by Durran during the first Long Night."
Robb nodded. "Did he mention if other such weapons existed?"
Both Gendry and Edric shook their heads.
"Not that he's told us, your grace," Edric answered.
Robb scratched his beard. "Very well. I will speak to him soon about it. Who wields it in battle?"
"I do, sire," Gendry answered.
Robb glanced at Gendry's heavily muscled arms and shoulders. "Aye, you look like you can do some terrible damage with a weapon in your hands. How good are you?"
"I'm not sure, sire," Gendry admitted. "I haven't been training for long. A few months."
"Uncle, work with him," Robb ordered, looking at his uncle. "Work with both of them. Call upon Jaime if you need him."
"I will, your grace." Ser Brynden said with a small smile.
Robb gave both men a smile. "Starks and Baratheons will march to battle again, it seems," he said before striding off, his sister and Lord Arryn at his back.
The Green Man
The Green Man bowed his head as he knelt before the Heart Tree, his heart beating faster and faster as he closed his eyes.
Flashback
When Bryn opened his eyes, he was back on the Isle of Faces, watching as a great bear of a man dropped to his knees and lifted his arms, begging and pleading to the ring of trees that surrounded him. The man wore fur and leather clothing that barely covered his enormous shoulders and arms. His dark hair tumbled freely down his back while his beard covered the entire front of his neck and parts of his chest. His hands were calloused, scared, and covered with burn marks after years of working in the forge, making tools and weapons of bronze and stone.
"You must help us," Bryn's ancestor, Brynden, pleaded, his voice weary and desperate. "The Others have nearly reached the Neck. Stark and the others can't stop them without your powers."
"The humans slaughtered us, Star-smith," a sweet voice replied calmly, a stark contrast to the man's tone. "They destroyed our sacred places, driving us from the wilds so that they could take the land for themselves. This is not ancient history. Your father was one of them."
"I'm well aware of the past," Brynden replied. "Set it aside, I beg you. The creatures from the north threaten to end all of life on this land. If humans are destroyed, they will come after you. The sacred places you have no will be destroyed along with the rest of your race."
Brynden laid his head in the dirt, clearly at the end of his rope. Bryn had watched the scene many times. He already knew what would be said and what would happen, yet he was always amazed at the fear the Others had instilled in the races of man when they had appeared, coming down from their frozen hellholes with their armies of death. No other thing, not even dragons, had scared humans as much as the threat of the Others had.
Bryn crouched down and stared hard at his ancestor. He looked as strong as an ox and as fearless as a lion. Completely capable of weathering whatever life had to throw at him. But this was different. His eyes were rimmed red after days of no sleep. The skin on his legs was flecked and stained with mud after days of running. 'Weariness' was not the right word to describe him, nor how he felt. He looked like a man on the brink of insanity; a few careless words away from being shattered completely.
A small, lithe figure dropped from the trees, looking as if she had appeared out of thin air. She looked and dressed like any other Child of the Forest, with one exception. Most Children had gold or green eyes. Her were blood red, a sign of her blessing from the Old Gods as well as marking her as one gifted with the ability of greensight.
"What would you be willing to give in order for this alliance to be formed?" she asked gently, standing just a foot from Brynden.
"I would give anything," Brynden replied, lifting his head. "Humans and Children must fight this threat together. It is our only hope."
"You claim you would give anything," the Greenseer mused. "Even one of your own kin?"
Brynden's eyes, although tired-looking, narrowed. Like any good father, the safety of his family was always at the forefront of his thoughts and actions.
"The Gods have already taken so much…" he began before the Greenseer waves aside his words.
"This is not the will of the Gods, Brynden Highsmith," she explained. "The Green Men protect this isle and the pact that keeps the peace between Men and Children. You did what others could not. You sought us out of your own choice, setting aside our bloody past because you have seen what others can't. All who experience the joys and sorrows of life must fight this threat together."
The Greenseer lifted her hand, holding it out towards Brynden, who took it carefully. The two shook, sealing their agreement.
"We will help mankind with this threat," the Greenseer promised, "but one of your sons will join the ranks of the Green Man and help guard the isle, as will the rest of his line."
Brynden nodded. "Very well."
Flashback
Bryn opened his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as his spirit returned from the past. While he had been away for what seemed like a few minutes, observing the momentous occasion when former enemies became allies, his body had only been still for a few seconds.
"You keep going back," a tiny voice whispered from the branches high above the Green Man. "Why?"
"I'm preparing myself," the man replied. "I have to if I am to face my destiny."
"The Star-Smith faced his without fear," the voice replied.
"I'm not him." the Green Man grunted in annoyance.
All he got back was an amused laugh that was quickly swept away from the wind.