Rob VII

The sheer size of the camp amazed Robb, who had never seen such a sizable force assembled in one area. It was like a sea of colorful tents and banners, with the chatter of men and other camp sounds were like thunder in Robb's ears. For the young king who controlled a large force of his own, the might of the Reach and Stormlands was truly a military marvel.

Robb and his small group of companions picked their way through the camp, having been informed by a sentry that King Renly was currently hosting a tournament to find the final member of what the man called the 'Rainbow Guard'.

Dacey Mormont scowled. "It's like the man doesn't realize we're at war."

"Well, if you moved two miles in two weeks, and had tournaments and feasts every day, you'd forget about war too," Smalljon grumbled. The two northerners had every right to be annoyed. For them, the war was personal, and Renly seemed to be treating it like a big game.

Robb was no fool. He knew that Renly had no right to claim the throne. When he crowned himself king, it was nothing but a power grab by the younger baratheon. But, the man had the means and opportunity to take the throne, and Robb meant to take advantage of that by allying himself to Renly as a fellow monarch.

"They're not prepared for war." Daryn Hornwood added. "Some of these men look like they've never picked up a spear before in their lives."

Robb shrugged. "When you have a hundred thousand men, you can afford to have a few thousand men untrained," he said, "besides, this is not our problem. If Renly wishes to face his brother or Tywin with poorly trained men, then let him be at fault."

As the four riders approached the crowd, a group of young stablehands ran out to offer their services. Robb, looking down at the hopeful boy who was waiting patiently, dismounted and handed the reins to the boy, giving him a brief smile. The others followed his lead, sliding off their horses and onto the muddy ground.

Robb moved closer to the sound of metal clashing, removing his gloves and tucking them into his belt. The fight was between two warriors who looked like polar opposites. One was tall and powerfully-built, wearing bronze-colored steel-plate armor and wielding a shield and a morningstar. His shield had a sun and a moon on a checkerboard pattern of maroon and blue. Robb did not recognize the sigil, but he guessed it was from a Stormlander house.

The second man was smaller than the first, lean and muscular, wearing ornate silver armor that had….metal flowers all over? His shield was green with three golden roses on a vine. Robb recognized the sigil instantly. It was the sigil of House Tyrell, overlords of the Reach. Robb guessed that the fighter might be from a secondary branch of the main family, hence the three flowers.

Despite the size difference between the two fighters, the smaller man seemed to be handling himself well. His footwork and skill with a blade were undeniable. Each strike was fast and perfectly timed, never leaving him out of position.

"Loras! Highgarden!" A girl cried out from Robb's left, but he couldn't see who it was.

The silver swordsman managed to disarm the bronze fighter by striking his gauntlet and making him drop the heavy weapon. That did little to deter the big warrior, who simply dropped their shield and tackled the silver knight, bringing them both down into the mud. The bronze fighter, for how big they were, moved with deceptive agility. Quickly climbing on top of the silver-clad swordsman, they drew their dagger and opened their opponent's visor, putting the tip just under the man's nose.

"I yield." The silver warrior said bitterly, loud enough for all to hear. The bronze warrior grunted and pushed himself up off the ground, stretching a hand out to help the silver swordsman, who Robb guessed was named Loras, off the ground. Loras ignored the hand and scrambled awkwardly to his feet, ripping off his helmet.

The man was almost unnaturally handsome, even when covered in sweat and dirt. He had a mass of brown curls and large, golden-brown eyes. He had laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, but he wasn't laughing at the moment.

Someone was slowly clapping off to Robb's right. He had curly, jet black hair and electric blue eyes. His face was narrow and soft, much different from the hard, battle-weary faces Robb was used to seeing. He wore golden half-plate steel armor over a blue gambeson, with a blue cape draped over his shoulders and back. At his side was an exquisite sword, with a gold crossguard shaped like antlers and fresh black leather hilt. It looked as if it had never been held before.

The most important thing about the man was what was on his head. Standing out amongst his curls was a golden crown of interwoven antlers, looking as if it was meant to be on the man's head. Robb knew that he was looking at Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and self-proclaimed king of the Reach and Stormlands.

Renly was beaming at the bronze warrior. "You are everything your father promised and more." He said, chuckling. "I have seen Ser Loras bested a few times, but never quite in that fashion."

The woman, who Robb still couldn't see, defended the silver knight. "Come now Your Grace, my brother fought valiantly for you."

Renly nodded in agreement. "That he did, my love," he said, smiling down at someone. He then turned back to the bronze warrior.

"Step forward and ask a boon. I swear that I will do my best to have it done." He declared.

The bronze warrior took a few steps towards Renly and removed his helm. The crowd let out a collective gasp. The bronze warrior was a woman. Not an attractive woman, but a woman nonetheless. She had a plain face, with startling blue eyes and short, hay-colored hair. Her nose was a little crooked as well as if it had been broken and badly reset. The only good thing that could be said about her was that she looked born to wear her armor.

Robb could almost feel the smirk on Dacey's face.

She knelt before Renly, bowing her head. "I wish to be one of your seven, Your Grace," she announced, her voice strong and feminine. "To be one of your sworn swords and protect you from those who would do you harm."

The crowd began to mutter, interested to see what their king would say. Ignoring the chatter and the displeased look Loras was giving him, Renly smiled warmly and clapped his hands. "It shall be done. Rise, Brienne the Blue!" He declared happily.

Brienne nodded once and took her place just in front of the raised dais that Renly sat on.

A steward quickly stepped up from beside the platform that Renly was sitting at and blew a horn, silencing the watchers. "I present Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell….and King in the North." The man announced, adding the last part reluctantly. The crowd was silent as Robb and his companions came forward, standing on the same muddy ground that Brienne and Loras had just fought on.

Some whispering and pointing as they saw Greywind. The direwolf was the size of a large dog. Larger in fact. The crowd had every right to be afraid of him. Robb and each of his companions were dressed for war in leather and steel, their weapons hanging by their sides under their cloaks. They looked like the fearsome northerners that they were.

Brienne, who had been joined by Loras, stepped towards him. "It's customary to kneel before the king."

Robb glanced idly at her before giving Renly a polite nod. Renly just grinned at him, not seeming to care that Robb had not bowed. "It's quite alright Brienne. Lord Robb is a special guest. Any son of Eddard Stark is." He said happily before his face grew dark. "I heard about your father's death at the hands of Joffrey. I will see his death avenged. I swear it."

The crowd cheered at his words, but Robb wasn't impressed. He preferred actions over flowery words. However, he knew that he had to be polite to the southern king. Robb needed his men if he was going to defeat Tywin Lannister.

Robb bowed his head once again. "Thank you for your words, my lord," he said, choosing his words carefully. The Blackfish had tried to explain to Robb that speaking in the south was very different than it was in the North, especially in the Reach. However, Robb had disregarded his great uncle's words, stating that he was a Northman and at war. There was no time for false kindness.

Once again, Brienne wasn't happy with the way Renly was addressed, but Robb didn't care. Renly grinned again, gesturing to the woman sitting at his side. "May I introduce my queen, Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden," he said, introducing the woman who sat on his side who had cheered on Loras during the fight.

Robb looked over, and his heart stopped for a moment. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had thick, soft, curly brown hair that was neatly done up in a southern hairstyle. Her eyes, large and brown, were full of humor and kindness. Her skin was pale and unblemished. Her slender, womanly figure was shown off in full in her southern dress. She had a small, shy smile on her face, but her eyes were alive with life.

She nodded respectfully to Robb. "You have our condolences, my lord. My father always spoke highly of Lord Stark."

Robb nodded back. "Thank you, my lady," he said, his voice a bit more gentle. "My companions. Daryn Hornwood, Smalljon Umber, and Dacey Mormont," he said, introducing his friends.

Renly glanced towards Greywind. "I see you Starks are very close with the beasts on your banner." He joked, getting his men to laugh as well.

Robb nodded. "We are," he said seriously. "May we talk in private?"

Renly nodded and descended from the platform, gesturing towards the row of tents. "Of course," he said with a smirk. "This way."

The two of them, flanked by Brienne and Loras and followed by Robb's companions, walked leisurely through the camp, with Renly being cheered and greeted as he walked. He returned their cheers with waves and smiles.

"You are well-loved by your men," Robb commented.

Renly nodded. "Yes, I like to think I am." His smile became a bit more mischievous. "Certainly more so than my brother Stannis. A dreadfully dull man, my brother. If he didn't look like a baratheon, then I would have thought he was carved from the wall you and your friends are so fond of."

Robb raised an eyebrow, surprised with how easily Renly just insulted his brother. "Never met him," Robb grunted.

Renly laughed. "And hopefully you don't any time soon. The man can turn the mood of an entire tavern by simply walking through the door."

Robb didn't laugh at Renly's joke. In the North, family was everything. Sure, Theon, Jon, and he joked with each other, but it was nothing more than a little fun between friends. Jon and Theon would sometimes take it too far, as their differing personalities would clash, but it never went as far as to speak badly behind each other's back. With Renly, it seemed like he genuinely did not care for his older brother.

When they reached Renly's tent, Robb stopped outside it, looking at the banner. "I was under the impression that the Baratheon banner was black and gold?" He asked curiously. The banner outside the tent had the same prancing stag, but it was yellow instead of black, on a field of green, not gold. Renly nodded.

"Yes, my brother Robert claimed the Iron Throne bearing the traditional sigil. I am planning on doing the same, but with my own flair," he explained happily, before walking into the tent. Robb turned back to his companions.

"Wait here," he instructed. "Hopefully this shouldn't take long."

Robb entered the tent, where he was surprised to find Loras lounging on a chair, eating an apple. The tent itself was impressive, large and spacious with a large map of Westeros hung on the wall and a seemingly endless supply of fruit and wine available. Renly was casually eating a peach, leaning against the table in the center of the room.

"I must give you credit Robb. Your victory over the Kingslayer is fast becoming legend." He complimented.

Robb grimaced. "Thank you, Renly. My only regret is that he was not stopped before he took the lives of two of my friends."

Loras snorted. "Fools," he said quietly.

Robb rounded on him. "If you have something to say ser, speak or be silent," he growled.

Loras raised an eyebrow. "The Kingslayer is one of the most dangerous men in Westeros. I am merely pointing out that it was foolish of them to attack the man in the first place."

Robb gripped the hilt of Claw. "They died protecting me." He snapped. "I will not allow their memories to be sullied by some southern knight who has never stepped foot on the battlefield."

Loras shot to his feet, his hand quickly falling to his blade. "Watch your tongue, Stark." He hissed.

When the knight got to his feet, Greywind stepped forward, snarling at him. Loras's gaze switched between Robb and the giant wolf, holding his ground.

"You will apologize, ser, or leave my presence," Robb said, remaining where he was.

Loras glanced at Renly, who was watching the verbal battle with a worried look. He nodded towards Robb.

"Apologize Loras," he ordered.

Loras went red in the face but managed to grit out an apology. "Forgive me, Lord Stark."

Robb glared at him but nodded. "Forgiven," he grunted. Greywind backed away also, but continued to stare at the silver knight.

"I assume you're here for a reason Robb," Renly asked, changing the subject. "I'm intrigued to know why."

"I want to offer an alliance between us," Robb said, getting right to the point. "With the combined might of your army here in the south and my army in the north, we can crush Tywin and Joffrey between us."

"And Stannis?" Renly asked.

"Should you need my help with your brother, then I will do what I can," Robb answered evenly. "Renly, I will not mince words. I have no wish to sit on the Iron Throne. That uncomfortable piece of pig iron is all yours. All I want is independence for my people as well as my family back."

Loras was beginning to get on Robb's nerve as he spoke up again.

"Independence? Independence for what?"

Robb crossed his arms. "The North and the Riverlands have made me their king." he declared, pointing at the crown hidden amongst his curls. "I would have them be independent of the Iron Throne."

Renly frowned slightly. "You know that it would be hard for me to give up two kingdoms. Especially when one is the size of all the other six kingdoms combined."

Robb shrugged. "Those are my terms."

Ser Loras leaned forward in his chair. "Who says we need your help Stark?" He challenged. "After all, we have a hundred thousand men."

Robb looked at the knight. "And have done what with those hundred thousand?" Robb snapped. "My men and I have been killing lannisters while you've sat here feasting and fooling around. How many battles have you fought in ser? You earned your title through tournaments. I earned mine through war. To answer your question, no, I don't think you need my help. But do not be surprised when I take King's Landing before you even leave the Reach. Then my terms will not be so friendly."

Loras's face grew red as his hand to the hilt of his sword, but Robb was ready for him, his own hand resting easily on his hilt. Renly stepped in again, this time more quickly, trying to diffuse the tension between the Young Wolf and Knight of Flowers.

"You make a compelling case Robb," Renly said, forcing Robb to give his attention to the youngest Baratheon rather than his arrogant good-brother. "Give me a few days to think about it."

"I will give you one Renly," Robb said, shaking his head. "I have already been away from my men for longer than I want to. I will give you until tomorrow night to make your decision. If you do not have one, then I will leave assuming that I will not have your support. When I return to Riverrun, I will bring the war to Tywin and his grandson. When I am victorious, I will watch as you and your brother fight like children over a throne I possess."

Renly tapped his chin thoughtfully, walking around the table. Robb had made a compelling case to him. So far, the Young Wolf had proven to be a bigger threat than anyone could have imagined, outmaneuvering Tywin Lannister and capturing the Kingslayer in a dazzling display of daring strategy. While Renly's army made him a threat, the Lannisters were being forced to deal with the rampaging Northmen in the Riverlands before they could turn their attention to the south.

Renly sighed, nodding. "I will give you my answer tomorrow night," he promised.

Robb nodded as well and marched out of the tent, Greywind at his heels. As soon as he exited the tent, he noticed two men, nearly giants, standing next to his companions. As he got closer, one bowed to him. He then realized that they were twins, each with flaming red hair, large noses, and grizzled beards. They wore a combination of leather and steel armor and had long swords at their waists.

"King Robb." the one on the right spoke, his voice deep and booming. "Lady Olenna has requested your presence."

Robb raised an eyebrow but nodded. He turned to Smalljon. "Talk to the steward and find a place to set up camp. We leave the day after tomorrow, no exceptions," he ordered. Umber nodded and walked off, the others following him. Robb then nodded to the twin giants. "Lead on."