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Chapter 34
Robb Stark
He felt an uncomfortable squelch beneath his boots, lifting his left leg up, Robb stared listlessly at the dirty mud that stained them before simply wiping them in a hard spot.
Walking further forward, he nods toward the guards, as they open the door to the cage.
Looking inside, Robb saw the disheveled figure of a man, his golden hair was stained with dirt, with arrow wounds staining his bandages with blood.
Jaime Lannister looked at his visitor, his eyes widening up at noticing his identity, and a fake smirk making its way to his face.
"The prodigal heir Stark finally brightens my halls, eh?" He japes. "Oh! I guess it is Lord Stark now, I heard about the honorable Eddard Stark's death in my old cell, hadn't heard such joyous news for years."
"The hypocrite's delight lies not in their own gain, but in the honest man's pain." Robb simply answered, falling back into the Jedi habit of speaking in vague notions and made-up quotes to mess with others. He would scowl back at him instead, but he can't, can he?
Jaime smirk soured.
"Nay, your father was merely a man whose pride exceeded the bounds of wisdom." He answers. "He thought himself too good for the rest of us normal mortals, wielding his vaunted 'honor' like a symbol of his superiority. Giving me the name of the Kingslayer, tainting my reputation with his higher than thou insult." Jaime pulls at his chains, standing up to look Robb eye-to-eye. "How did his so-called honor serve him, huh?! Dead! That's what!" He hissed out with so much hate and anger that it made him lose strength on his legs, sitting back down with a wince.
"You know nothing about me, whelp!" He shouts. "You know nothing about me." He repeated, much lower this time.
Robb simply stares at him for a while, meanwhile, Greywind seemingly sensed Jaime's aggression and shimmied his way into the large cage. His large form overshadowed the Kingslayer's sitting body, and for a second, the man's face morphed from fright before hardening in resigned rebellion.
Jaime makes to speak, but is silenced as Robb suddenly moves his hand over Greywind's back, softly stroking his fur.
"Burn them all, was it?"
Jaime snapped his head around with such force it was a wonder he didn't pull a muscle.
"Those were Aerys Targaryen's last words, were they not?"
"How…?"
"Your name is Jaime Lannister, twin brother to Cersei Lannister. You were inseparable when young, in fact, you came out of your mother's womb holding her foot. You looked so similar not even your father was able to keep you apart, and even tended to dress in each other's clothes and spend whole days together." Robb's voice comes out measured, and so very cold.
"You'd even slept together in the same bed, and your relationship went so far as to experiment with each other in an inappropriate manner. During one of those encounters, you were caught by a servant who informed your mother, who then went on to move your bedchamber to the other side of the castle, while a guard was stationed in front of your sister's, you never did anything of the sort again, until your brother's birth and your mother's subsequent death, that is." Jaime's face grows ever so pale as he listens, he attempts to speak, but is interrupted by Robb's words. "Your father used to teach you how to read until late at night, as you had trouble with your letters."
"Your father and sister despised your malformed brother, but you didn't, and treated him with love and respect. You squired under Lord Summer Crakehall and raged when your father brought your sister to court in Kingslanding. Afterwards you were sent to Riverrun to send 'A sensitive message' to lord Hoster Tully, whom kept you for days, seating you next to Lysa Arryn for feasts and luncheons, but you were uninterested, and went on to harass Brynden Tully for war stories."
"You participated in the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood when you were five and ten, during which you saved Lord Crakehall from Big Belly Ben and crossed swords with the psychotic Smiling Knight, whom you thought to be the greatest swordsman on Westeros, and quickly shifted that label toward Arthur Dayne once he killed him in a duel, and were knighted that night by him after holding vigil." Greywind pleasantly purrs as Robb takes a breath. "You decided to visit Kingslanding to see your father and sister, upon which Cersei informed you of your coming betrothal to Lysa Tully after a night of passionate love making, and promised you to solve your dilemma."
"A month later, you were raised to the Kingsguard by Gerold Hightower at the Tourney of Harrenhall. You were happy at first, since it meant you could stay close to your sister and get rid of your responsibility as Tywin's heir, yet when you were sent back to Kingslanding to guard Viserys and Rhaella Targaryen in favor of participating in the tourney, you realized that it was simply to spite your father, and grew resentful of the decision."
"You used thoughts of your sister to keep you grounded during your tenure as Kingslayer, much too disillusioned with the position. And when your father's men betrayed the mad king, he ordered his pyromancer hand to light the wildfire caches hidden beneath the city, upon which you killed him and the king." Jaime almost began to hyperventilate at this point, staring at Robb as if he was a ghost. "Yet you also broke your promise to Rhaegar Targaryen, leaving his wife, daughter and babe to die at the hand of your own father's man, but you don't seem to think of that, do you?"
Jaime flinched, bristling with a mix of rage and fear.
"There is more, you know?" Robb said. "I know you fucked your sister the day of her wedding with Robert Baratheon, the moon tea you acquired for her when she grew pregnant with his child, that Stannis' claims of her children are true, I know how you caved to your father and tricked a lovestruck three and ten Tyrion Lannister into believing his loving wife was a whore, even pushing him into r*ping her after a slew of other men did so."
Jaime almost collapsed at the last sentence; his shock much too strong.
"I know you pushed my brother off that tower." Robb's hand extends with frightening speed, clutching at Jaime's throat with great strength. He channeled the force through his body and single handedly lifted him off the ground.
Jaime struggled to make him let go, scratching and striking his arm as air slowly escaped his grasp.
Robb took a close step, staring the Kingslayer dead in the eye with almost glowing, icy blue eyes.
'They were so very cold.' Jaime thought.
"You say I don't know you?" The Lannister felt the icy breath graze his cheek, sending a chill cascading down his spine and cold sweat beading on his skin. He trembled, paralyzed by fear, as the shadow of death loomed ever closer. "Think again."
Just as the edges of Jaime's vision blurred into darkness, the grip on him released. He collapsed to the ground with a thud, a jolt of pain tearing through his still-healing wounds. Clutching his throat, he gasped for air, each breath a desperate, rasping reprieve.
When he finally looked up, his gaze met a towering silhouette, shrouded in shadow. Piercing blue eyes, vivid as the sky, stared down at him, framed by a cascade of crimson hair.
"You looked down on others, convinced it was their ignorance that made them look down on you," Robb's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold, sending a fresh wave of fear through him. As he instinctively inched backward, Robb's tone grew heavier, more damning. "Ignorance of your skill at arms, your experiences, your so-called deeds. But here I stand, knowing it all…"
"…And still, I think you're nothing more than a cowardly waste of life."
With that, Robb turned away, his steps deliberate and unhurried, his voice fading like a specter retreating into the shadows. At his side, his massive direwolf padded along contentedly, its presence a reminder of power and ferocity.
"If there's one lesson to take from this encounter," Robb added, his words lingering like a blade poised to strike, "It's that the only reason you still draw breath is because of my sister. You'd best pray she remains safe."
*-*-*
He hadn't intended to reveal so much of his mind to the Kingslayer, but watching that infuriating smirk disappear made it all worthwhile.
'It doesn't matter anyway' Robb thought, his resolve hardening. 'The day Sansa is free of the Lannisters' grasp will be the day he dies.'
As for Jaime's escape? It was a laughable notion. When encamped in a castle, he would be confined to the dungeons—true dungeons, crafted to prevent any thought of freedom, not a secured guest room masquerading as a prison. On the march, he'd be locked in an iron cage, the key held solely by Robb himself. The cage would be mounted on a carriage dragged alongside the army, guarded relentlessly.
Forty men were to stand watch over him at all times, with a pool of a hundred and twenty handpicked, trusted soldiers rotating shifts to maintain their sharpness. And always, Robb would keep Jaime close, ready for any attempt.
Robb could have implemented these measures earlier, but to act rashly while marching west toward his homeland would have been foolish. Out of respect for the Tullys, the family most wronged by Jaime's actions, he had deferred custody to them.
But what was done was done. There was no point in lingering on the past.
"From now on, spread the word to all who will listen—those destitute and displaced, the people who have lost their homes and livelihoods to the Lannisters and their dogs. Tell them that Harrenhall will stand as a sanctuary. When Robb Stark reclaims the castle, he will ensure that every one of them finds solace and a new beginning by the God's Eye," Robb declared, his voice steady and resolute as he addressed the gathered men. Mounted and ready, they were set to replace the Blackfish in his mission to liberate or relieve what was needed in the war-torn Riverlands. "Ride well, find victory, and may you return safely."
He had recited this speech countless times before, growing numb to the self-consciousness that accompanied such grandiose declarations. As the men spurred their horses forward, disappearing into the horizon, another figure approached in haste.
"My lord!" the man called out breathlessly. "The Red and his men passed the gate but a few hours ago!"
Robb tilted his head slightly, his expression calm and measured. "And?"
The man's face lit with unrestrained excitement. "They've cleared much of the road to Harrenhall, my lord, but most importantly—they found her. Your sister! Arya Stark is safe!"
Robb didn't think. He barely felt himself move. One moment, he was standing still; the next, he was astride a horse, urging it forward at a breakneck pace.
"My Lord! Wait!" His guards followed, barely keeping pace.
Hours later, the sight of Brynden's garrison came into view. At its head rode the seasoned Blackfish and the imposing figure of Smalljon Umber. But it was not them Robb's eyes sought. It was the girl astride a smaller, though still formidable, direwolf.
Her hair was shorn, her clothes tattered and worn, and her face bore the marks of hardship—but there was no mistaking her. That was Arya Stark.
That was his sister.