robb_stark (robb_stark) wrote in prospectives, @ 2010-10-15 16:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | myrcella lannister, robb stark, theon greyjoy |
When the the day was nearly at it's end, and the sky begun to take on muted shades of violet and pink, Robb called to Theon and told him it was time to mount up. Years ago, the elder may have asked "What, now?" but this had become routine. Every few days they would survey the border of their land, warding off any creatures who got too close and taking measures to ensure their safety here. Years ago, it may have seemed excessive to do it as much as they did; now it would be foolish to do any less than this.
"If you'll see to the western perimeter, I'll take the east," Robb said to his friend as he pulled himself atop his horse. His was a chestnut-coloured mustang found in the wild three years ago, a feral creature that he'd tamed with relative ease. But that had everything to do with Robb, and nothing to do with the horse; his connection with Grey Wind had given him something special with other animals, too. As though they could sense the wolf, a fellow wild animal, in him. "Take Daeron with you," he advised.
Although Theon still had plenty of bravada in him, to not take the insurance of a direwolf along would be a stupid move. One the Ironborn prince knew well, sporting a nasty scar on his left leg as the result of a lack of such precautions. He couldn't claim it hadn't bothered him that, of the litter Lady had bore, he hadn't been offered to call one direwolf his own, like the rest of the Stark family. Eddard had been more of a father to him than Balon ever had, and Robb more of a brother than his natural ones. Yet, he was proud of his own blood, and so in the end he couldn't really begrudge the fact he hadn't been given one. The direwolf was the symbol of House Stark, and he would always be a kraken at heart.
The one Robb had spoken of was one that he had come up with a name for. Daeron was a young Targaryen hero whom Robb had recalled Jon admired in his youth. Almost all of Lady's pups had been named with those in mind who were no longer here, as a way to remember them, and as a way to welcome them if they ever did return.
Daeron may have once been a pup, but now he was a full grown direwolf, the only one of the pack who looked exactly like his father, pure white. It was for that reason it occurred to Robb he was a good choice to name after a Targaryen prince; Rhaegar had approved his decision, quite fond of that direwolf himself. He wasn't quite as big as Grey Wind, but he was close, a formidable opponent for any of the beasts that roamed the area. When Theon gave a sharp whistle, the wolf came to join them.
The horse that Theon mounted had a thick, shaggy mane, the colour of it's brown hair so dark it was nearly black. Unlike Robb who'd had quick success taming his horse, Theon's had been much more wild and unpredictable. It had been months before he'd been able to get it to settle down around the direwolves, much less get it to work together with one. It was still obviously displeased by Daeron's presence, but all it did now was snort and stamp it's front feet a couple of times. Much better than being thrown from it's back, like he had been the first time. "Check the traps carefully while you're out there," Robb continued to advise him. Seeing which ones had been set off would allow them to know how close the beasts were getting, and where they needed to be more wary of.
"You would think I'd never scouted before, by the sound of you," Theon replied as they began to start off at a slow trot in the same direction. He grinned easily at his friend. The years had been good to both of them, despite the hardships they'd faced. The twenty-five year old Theon had fully grown into the handsome look all the men in his family had. His olive-tinted skin was complimented by how dark his eyes were, and his hair, which usually looked as wild and windswept as his horse's, fell a good way past his shoulders. He'd never let a full beard grow in like Robb had, but kept a small patch of well trimmed hair on his chin and upper lip.
Robb was four years his junior, although one might guess them to be the same age when they weren't clean shaven. His auburn hair had lost the fluffy quality it had as a teenager, touching his shoulders from the length he kept it now. From his mother's side he had gotten his muscle and hard edges, but from his father's, natural grace that rounded some of it out. He fit the image of a northern king now even more than he had when he had bore the title.
"I would think we nearly had to amputate your leg last autumn," Robb returned, a smile finding it's way onto his own face. Theon had his faults, but he had always been exactly the sort of friend someone like Robb needed, to bring out his own humor he may have otherwise forgotten was there after he'd let a crown touch his brow.
"You're never going to let that go, will you?" Theon replied with a sigh. "A whole year ago, and I never made the mistake again"
"I don't think that's the kind of mistake a person gets to make twice," Robb retorted.
"If only we were all so perfect as you," Theon returned with a sardonic smile.
Robb frowned at that, even though he knew that this was only banter. True, he had done everything he could possibly to think to do in the five years he had spent here, seen to everything that he thought his father and mother would want him to, but...
"We only just set out, isn't it a bit early to start brooding? Though I guess it's never too early for you Starks."
"Were I perfect, I would not be here," Robb voiced his thoughts.
"No, you would be dead." Theon glanced at his friend. Five years pass, and the only company one has are six other people, and you get to know plenty of things about one another. He knew that Robb frequently thought about all the things he wasn't doing in Westeros, where his real responsibility lay, but Theon saw it as moot point. "You'd be no use to Sansa with your head lobbed off in a ditch somewhere."
I could have changed things, Robb thought to himself. Couldn't I have? The fact he would never know would always be a sore spot for him, but...Sansa. He wondered what she looked like now. She would be eighteen, a woman grown. Had life treated her kindly or cruelly in Westeros, where he was sure she must have returned to? And what of Arya, his other sister full of fire and spunk, yet still so young when she had left them again, more alone in the world than any of his siblings? Because he knew it was this same thought which haunted his lady mother, he always spoke nothing but positive assurances to her. He felt it was only with his friend he could be a bit more honest; he wouldn't get any sympathy from Theon, but it was his bluntness he valued.
"Do you worry about Asha?" Robb asked instead, voicing his own concerns by speaking about another.
Theon snorted. "Worry about her? Why?" He'd never gotten along with his sister; she frequently angered him, embarrassed him, or gave him cause to resent her. Plenty of times he'd thought that should have been me when he looked at the girl; he should have been the one who'd stayed on the Iron Islands, he should have been the one who'd been given the time to earn father's favor. He should have been the one who was given glory in battle, and he should have been the one that earned everyone's praise. Years had passed though, and it had given time for those sorts of thoughts to cool. And when it came down it, they shared the same blood-- to say his sister couldn't do something would be as good as saying he couldn't do it. All of the Greyjoys were sturdy and could endure anything, the way their castles did no matter how hard or for how long the ocean's waves beat against their walls.
"Does it bother you we don't know who lives? They returned to war."
"It wouldn't bother her, were it me," Theon returned without missing a beat.
Robb supposed he had to observe the fundamental difference between Theon's family and his own. The Starks were a pack of their own; they were stronger together than apart. He wanted to be able to lend his strength to Sansa, to Bran and Rickon, to Arya, to Jon. Instead, he had to remain here, where he was no longer King in the North, no longer a lord, no longer anyone of much importance. He was just ordinary Robb Stark, which was something he'd probably never entirely adjust to. Not because he desired titles, but because he desired to make a difference in the world at large, desired to do the kind of deeds that would make the previous lords of Winterfell proud. As the eldest son, his upbringing had completely revolved around such ideas. He always knew he had a good chance of dying young when he'd chosen to become a king rather than bending the knee, but he would have had no regrets, knowing his ancestors would have done the same thing. As for what they would do in a situation like this, he couldn't say. It meant he gave one hundred and ten percent to his work here, to make up for what he wasn't doing elsewhere.
A few minutes later, the two of them split off in opposite directions to go where they had been assigned. The land they lived on was a about a mile across, consisting of a few small cabins, storage sheds, a place for the horses, a watch tower, and a considerable garden. It was located close to a range of mountains, which shielded them from more extreme winds and storms. A stream ran near the south side of the land, the water supply that allowed the fruits and vegetables they grew to flourish. There were forests nearby, but they weren't right up against them. It was better to have some open land around them, lowering the chance of any beasts sneaking up on them.
He had been traveling at a leisurely pace when he heard the sound that made Grey Wind raise his head, his ears lifting in attention. It was incredibly faint, but the nature of it allowed Robb to single it out from all the other sounds of the outdoors around him. It was a woman's scream.
Quickly, his mind did a mental check: his mother and aunt were both at home, preparing dinner for tonight. He had seen then just shortly before he had set out. So who...?
For a moment, he thought to call for Theon, knowing the other man couldn't have gone too far in such a short time. But he didn't know if he had enough time to get help, and giving his horse a firm kick, spurred it into a fast gallop towards where he'd heard the voice.
Robb's decision to not wait those extra seconds would probably be what saved the girl's life in the end. He came upon the scene of what had once been a black bear bounding towards her fallen form, the already-huge animal made bigger, stronger and faster by the dark force that had taken hold of it. By now, these creatures were such a familiar sight to him, he knew exactly what to expect-- and knew that it would kill her in a single blow if he didn't intercept it.
He pushed his horse's speed, and drew his sword from it's sheath, just in time to slash the mighty animal across it's face as he rode through the space between the two. It let out a roar of pain and staggered backwards a few steps, while Robb directed his horse to turn back around to prepare for the next attack. In that small moment that would have given the bear an opening to attack, Grey Wind sunk his teeth into the animal's hind leg. During his campaign, his direwolf had learned how to fight men, and during his time here, how to fight these massive beasts. Distracted as it now was, Robb could ride at it again, his sword ready to deliver a second strike. Like the first, the blade hit exactly where he meant for it to, but now the beast was enraged, and it didn't stagger as it suffered the blow. It swiped it's huge paw outwards, striking Robb in the side and knocking him off his horse.
Thankfully, it had swung at him blindly, and he was able to catch himself in his fall. He minded not to drop his sword either; he would need it in a matter of seconds, the bear getting back down on it's front legs now that Robb had fallen, opening it's massive mouth to finish him off with it's teeth. Without a moment of hesitation, Robb took his opening, shoving his sword between the creatures jaws, the blade splitting through the top of the beast's skull. With that, it was over.
He pulled his bloody blade free from the bear with a firm tug, black smoke swirling around the metal before it faded into nothing. He saw not only the light disappear from the animal's eyes, but the taint of darkness as well. Grey Wind circled around to where he was, affording their enemy an extra moment of caution, before he looked to Robb for guidance. "Keep watch," he told the direwolf, a simple command to be on the look out for any other of the dark creatures that may be in the area. It was rare to find one that was truly on it's own; they'd been at this for too many years to fall for that trick.
Standing up once more and putting his sword back in his sheath, he looked and saw that the girl had pushed herself up into a sitting position. He was glad to find she didn't appear injured, that he had gotten to her in time.
"Are you all right?" Robb asked as he approached her. She wore a cloak-- it was no unusual sight, they were in the months of winter now-- and the hood of it concealed her face from him. He wore no armor himself, but a basic leather jerkin, a simple grey cape thrown over his shoulder. "Where have you come from? The nearest town is a week from here on foot. Are you alone?" He offered her his hand, to help her stand. With the land they had chosen to live on being as remote as it was, he had never seen anyone like this out here on their own. No one would think to hike so far out with the world as it was now, especially not a woman unaccompanied.