Ten years ago, when Theon Greyjoy was in Robert Baratheon's war galley, he would have never thought he'd get a song of his so soon. Sure it was a song of the whole army, but still, he was in that army.
The verse of the riders falling with the weight of mountains into the lions never failed to stir his blood. Many a night he spent singing and drinking to the tune. 'The Crimson Field', an apt name for a legendary battle. Musicians and mummers would sing the tale of the battle in the Green Fork for ages to come.
He only wished for the song to mention his name. To be immortalized in a song… to this day, not even the Blackfish had a song to his name.
Now, if only his friend could appreciate his song.
"He promised me not to commission a song!" Robb slurred. "'The Crimson Field' they call it." His king scrunched up his face in distaste. "And the lords love it! All day, every day singing and drinking to the Young Wolf of Winterfell."
They were in Lord Tully's solar, Robb, the Blackfish and him together. The three sat in a circle around a small table the Blackfish dragged from the room next to the solar. His friend needed rest after all the days of non-stop dealing with all the duties being king entailed. It was why Ser Brynden Tully got them here. "To escape the world for an afternoon," he said.
"Oh no! His Grace's steak is too juicy and his wine is too sweet," Theon said.
The Blackfish snickered. "Most young men would throw their lives away for a song of their own. His Grace… is not like other young men."
Robb gave them a nasty look. "It's too much! Ryk told me the smallfolk sing it in taverns and working the field! It's just…" He sagged on his chair. "I don't know… it's odd."
Theon took the half filled pitcher of wine off the table under the approving gaze of the Blackfish. It was good for Robb to loosen up for a few hours, it wasn't good for someone to find their king this way.
"Your Grace's lord father had a song or two written for his battles back in the day," Ser Brynden said while twirling the wine in his cup.
Robb stretched on his chair, his eyes on the ceiling. "There was the one about his arrival at Winterfell to call the fury of the North on the Mad King."
"Aye, there was also the one about him arriving at the Stoney Sept to save Robert," said Ser Brynden drinking from his cup.
There was also the song about him putting down the ironborn in Balon's Rebellion. Theon was glad no one mentioned that song.
When he had been a boy and taken away from his home to become a hostage, he could admit, in the privacy of his mind, how terrified he had been. Ned Stark was always serious, Theon scarcely saw him smile. And that sword of his, Ice, always froze him in fear for the thought that mayhaps a day would come when it would be used to leave him a head shorter.
Lord Eddard had raised him among his children, but Theon knew what he was, and the world, from the lowliest servant to Lady Stark herself, never failed to remind him.
"I wonder if Jon will get his own song too," said Robb. "My lady mother seriously didn't like me giving him a name."
You wanted to make him a prince.
"You pulled a trick on her, Your Grace," Ser Brynden dryly said. "You knew how she would react."
"Your Grace this, Your Grace that." Robb rubbed his eyes. "Uncle, please stop, you too Theon. At least in private let me be just Robb."
The Blackfish was very particular on how a king needs to be respected by everyone, even in private.
"Your—"
"Ah!" Robb raised a hand to stop his uncle. "Your king commands you. There, now you are duty bound to obey."
Theon was the first to break a laugh, Robb and the Blackfish followed.
"So, as I was saying," Robb continued. "My lady mother wasn't pleased, but Jon proved himself, he took Maidenpool in three days!"
Even if Theon didn't like Snow, he had to admit it. "It was nicely done, Robb."
"Heh, was it so hard to call me by name?" Robb said while sipping from his cup.
"Now almost all of the Riverlands are under our control," Ser Brynden said. "The very last castles are being retaken as we speak, and Harrenhal will soon fall to Edmure."
Well, the 'escaping duty for a while' was over, most like.
"Aye, and now the Kingslayer's army to the West is my last concern."
And with that, it definitely was over now. Robb and his uncle were of a similar cloth.
"Bah, two thousand Valemen riders are about to cross the Twins. We'll smash any army that comes our way," Theon said trying to pull them back from 'duty talk'.
"Aye, he'd be a fool to attack now," Robb said. "And yet, he still has his army directly west of us. There has to be something we don't know, and that worries me."
The Blackfish grunted not confirming or denying.
Well then, since they were already talking about the war. "There could be a way to completely fuck the Kingslayer…"
Theon locked his gaze on his wine, part of him was scared to look up. He had to focus to keep his mouth from clenching.
"We've talked about this Theon," Robb said, softly. "I love you like a brother, I trust you with my life, but your lord father…" Robb leaned and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's not the answer you want, I'm sorry."
"Why would you feel sorry?" He snickered. "I'm sure the ironborn will take Lannisport soon enough. With them occupying the Kingslayer we'll smash right through the Golden Tooth." He raised his cup and drank it one move.
Laughter returned to the room, but Theon felt bitter all the same.
He had seen how the older lords saw him. For them he was the son of Balon Greyjoy and little else. It didn't matter how he fought side by side with them, it didn't matter he was a boy of ten when the last war was fought.
At least the younger lordlings found him amenable. Jason Mallister had nothing but contempt for him while his son, Patrek, was a good friend.
He left the solar after a few more cups of wine and japes.
The yard was almost empty when he arrived. He picked up a sword and battered up men-at-arms one by one.
If the old lion had an army still, if the retaking of Harrenhal wasn't a done deal, if Robb had more enemies…
If, if, if.
If Robb had more enemies, he would've let me go and bring the ironborn on the Westerlands.
Dinner was a dull affair. His stew was nothing special and his mood didn't help.
There was a time when the storm in his head would have been solved by finding a pretty whore and fucking his anger away. But thanks to the bastard, every time he thought of going for a whore he heard his words echoing in his ears. "Any man can pay to wet his cock. A real man doesn't need a heavy pouch or a name, only himself."
At first, he just wanted to prove he was a 'real man'. He changed his fine clothes for common ones, took a small pouch to pay for his ale and went to a tavern in winter town. He talked with a pretty tavern wench and when he thought he was about to prove the bastard wrong, the wench asked him for his coin.
He had proven himself to be a 'real man' since then, it just annoyed him that it wasn't on his first try.
"Is m'lord troubled?" A serving wench took him out of his brooding.
Theon recognized the voice. Were it anyone else, he would've snapped and cursed them away.
"Aye, this lord is troubled," Theon said with a wicked smile. "Care to hear my troubles?"
"In your room m'lord?"
He rolled his eyes, they'd done this dance before. "Do you really need to ask, Shae?"
###
Ever since he heard the news of the Battle of the Green Fork, Robar Royce had the feeling he should've left the reach lords and gone to Robb Stark's camp.
At least that's what the little voice inside his head always reminded him. Over and over, time and time again.
And yet, he didn't.
He couldn't, he told himself. From here to Riverrun bandits and brigands are many.
Truth be told, Robar had ambitions of his own following King Renly's camp.
As a second son he had nothing to inherit, no legacy so to speak. Even if he was certain his brother would always have a place for him in Runestone, it was not the same as securing something by your own efforts rather than relying in the pity of others.
And yet, when Renly formed his Rainbow Guard, he hadn't answered the call. All because the voice in his head increased its volume when he heard of Riverrun's siege ending.
There were three kings now, and Robar was in the wrong camp.
Maybe I could follow the kingsroad once we are close to King's Landing.
The army picked up the pace with every news they heard and they hadn't had a tourney after the one celebrating Renly's.
The pace became even faster when part of the host left to defend the Dornish Marches from a possible invasion.
The host was close to the kingswood when, early in the morning, Robar saw far in the distance, Renly's outriders escorting someone to camp.
Something took over him and he spurred his horse forward to get close to the head of the column where Renly rode.
Not two hundred yards from his original place in the column, Robar saw the Stark grey wolf on a white field on the banners closing in.
By the time Robar got to the head of the column the Stark party had dismounted. He recognized the Manderly merman on the cloak of a knight as wide as he was tall and the Blackwood tree and ravens on a younger and slender knight in a red on black armor.
They must be here seeking an alliance with Renly.
A few minutes later, he recognized Lady Stark returning to her companions. No frown marred her fair face but Robar had a sister, the only times Ysilla was calm as a lake was when she was furious. Maybe this was the same.
The Stark party moved back to the column and Robar saw his chance.
"Greetings Lady Stark," he said as he approached. "I am Ser Robar Royce son of Lord Yohn Royce, I'd ask you to hear me, if it please you, my lady."
Lady Stark looked at him as if looking for something amiss.
"Well met, ser," she said behind lidded eyes. "Pardon the forwardness, but I believe the Royces are from the Vale."
"We are, my lady. I…" was supposed to recruit hedge knights and free riders to help Lord Dondarrion on his task. But then, I wanted a place of my own and almost chose wrongly. "couldn't find my way to the Vale alone," he said instead. "Rumours say bandits and brigands run afoul."
Lady Stark nodded, giving nothing of how she truly felt. "What is it you want me to hear, ser?"
"My lord father always says how Starks and Royces are family, how our houses have a shared history and intermarried one another for thousands of years." He had been rumiating on his words since he saw the banners. "My lady, allow me to serve His Grace Robb Stark," he said bowing.
Robar knew his lot in life, he would need to find glory the way his ancestors had done before. With a sword in hand.
"I don't know you nor your character, ser," Lady Stark said and sighed after a few heartbeats. "But I know your father. Join my party and ask my son yourself when you meet him Ser Robar."
"Aye, my lady," he said relieved. He had just thrown away any chance to get a position in Renly's court.
A heavy hand found his shoulder. "So you heard of the Young Wolf," the Manderly knight said. "Hah, I can't blame you ser, hearing his exploits raise my spirits too. Especially since they were my exploits too!"
The northern man carrying the Stark banner gave him a nod. "Lord Yohn Royce is a great warrior, ser. The Young Wolf will be honored to have your sword, I know."
While riding with his new party, he found out why Lady Stark was in a bad mood. Renly postponed the audience for when the army stopped for the night. In Robar's mind it was understandable, but he didn't have the mind for courtly intrigue, he was not Andar, so perhaps there was a hidden snub he couldn't see.
But then again, he didn't saw the same mood in her party. They must be the same as me, full bred warriors with no interest in petty intrigue.
He later learned the names of the men he saw when approaching Lady Stark. Ser Wendel Manderly offered jerky when riding by his side, Halis Mollen the captain of the Stark guards and Lady Stark's banner bearer besides, and Lucas Blackwood, brother to the new Lord Blackwood.
When the column stopped for the day, Robar accompanied Lady Stark together with Ser Wendel to Renly's tent.
"Lady Stark!" Renly greeted. "Please, join me and my wife in dinner."
"I'd be honored, my lord," Lady Stark said.
Servants brought forth a table and chairs for them. The food was just as good as Robar expected, Ser Wendel sure was enjoying himself too.
"We exchanged words earlier, my lady," Renly said. "Tell me, when will Harrenhal be taken?"
"Soon enough, my lord. Perhaps it has fallen already."
"It seems your son won't left any Lannisters for me," he japed. "Even his brother took Maidenpool in less than a week."
"Half brother," Lady Stark said curtly.
Robar had heard. Robb's bastard brother took Maidenpool from the Lannisters in a single assault. Some say the Seven were on his side, some others say it was with treachery that he took Maidenpool. The truth of the matter was that Maidenpool was in Stark hands.
"Of course, my lady." The king sipped from his goblet. "Jon Stark is a fearsome commander it seems, the realm knows that now. I wonder if he'll march to King's Landing, mayhaps he'll face opposition?" he finished with a glint in his eyes.
This kind of talk Robar did know. Renly was asking for information, sensitive information at that.
And if Robar knew, Lady Stark must've known to refute the king too. But then, why was she taking so long to reply?
"As soon as my son commands it, my lord."
Renly hummed at that. "Remember, my lady. You only need to give me a time, and I'll help you with your opposition."
"No," Lady Stark said coldly. "Going behind my son's back is unseemly."
"So be it, Lady Stark."
Robar had the feeling he was missing something, he looked to Ser Wendel to the side only to find him equally lost.
"I can see the end of this war," continued Renly. "I'll march on King's Landing with my army, when I'm sitting on the Iron Throne, Stannis and the Dornish will have to kneel before me. When that time comes… if your son supports me as his father supported Robert, he'll find me generous. I'm to be king of the whole realm. Perhaps I'll even find his half-brother land in the Blackwater. Your son must know, as soon as he joins me this war is—"
"Summon the king!" was heard from outside the tent.
"What now?" Renly said and stood up from his chair.
He went out with his wife and them following close behind.
"Your Grace," a man with an old battered helm kneeled in front of Renly. "I come from Fawnton. Storm's End has fallen, Ser Cortnay is dead—"
"That's not possible, Tywin doesn't have an army."
"It's Lord Stannis, my liege. King Stannis he calls himself, he is marching to King's Landing as we speak."
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A/N: Robar's part was me not wanting to go for Catelyn's PoV for her meeting with Renly.
Short chapter I know, chapter felt better finishing it here.
Next time: Harrenhal and who was holding it for Tywin.
You can give me tips: p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / yorud, only if you want and can.
Anyway, give me your comments! (╯°□°)╯( ┻━┻