Writer's challenge: a conversation between your favourite and least favourite characters set in a courtyard including a spear.
((This is difficult…I really only have one least favorite character soooo here ya go. Also, the conversation isn’t exactly verbal…sorry haha))
((Enjoy! And thanks for the prompt!!! :D :D ))
NAME: Trial by Combat
Participants: Robb Stark and Gregor Clegane
Setting: King’s Landing courtyard/training yard
Prize: The life (or death) of Lord Eddard Stark.
It had taken nearly two full moons and nearly a dozen small battles for the Northerners, being accompanied by many men from the Riverlands, came to a stop outside the walls of King’s Landing. They met with the Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister, and things were set into place.
Robb Stark was to fight for his Father and Sisters in a trial by combat with an opponent of the King’s Small Council’s choosing.
Dressed in his silver plated armor with a white surcoat bearing the grey direwolf sigil, Robb Stark stepped into the court yard surrounded by his honor guard. Looking around, his Tully blue eyes searched the crowd of people who were in attendance. Lords and Ladies and Knights, all in bed with the Lannisters. On the dais sat the King, the bastard Joffrey, and his Mother, Cersei Lannister. As well as the younger brother and sister to the King, Tommen and Myrcella. The Hand was seated at the foot of the dais with his sellsword, Bronn, at his side, with the rest of the Small Council to each side of him.
“Bring them out!” Joffrey screamed and from a side door came a dozen knights, all dressed in the Lannister crimson, pulling along Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters Sansa and Arya.
It took everything Robb had not to run to them. His eyes scanning over each of them checking for injuries. He could see his Father limping, most likely from his broken leg that had been given to him by Jaime Lannister before King Robert passed away. Besides his leg, the Lord of Winterfell also looked sickly. Skinny and underfed, he could barely hold himself up. Sansa had a cut on her lip and was crying, both making Robb’s heart freeze in a way only a Northerner’s can. And Arya…Arya looked just as defiant as ever, tugging at her arms trying to get loose.
“Robb Stark,” the King said getting to his feet “You have to be pretty stupid to come in here. I hope you weren’t expecting to get out alive.” He smirked
“Not at all you incestuous asswipe. I am well aware I could die,” Robb shrugged, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips “But not before you die as well, and your Mother and everyone else. In the name of my Lord Father, Eddard Stark, and the late King, Robert Baratheon.” He unsheathed his sword and sat the tip on the ground. “Call out whatever monster you plan to sick on me, boy. I hate the South and I want to return home, now.”
The doors into the Red Keep opened once more and Robb heard his honor guard whispering in uncertainty as outstepped the seven foot tall, behemoth of a man known as the Mountain Who Rides.
Robb wasn’t surprised. He had been expecting something like this.
“You’ll never get close enough to do any damage.” SmallJon Umber hissed into Robb’s ear making the younger, auburn haired boy, nod in knowing.
Looking around, Robb eyed the rack of weapons against the far wall of the court yard and sighed. He hadn’t had too much experience with spears before, but it was his best chance. Sheathing his sword, he stepped out from behind his guards and moved toward the rack and the dais.
Guards began to swarm the dais, to protect the King, but stopped at the hand motion of the Hand. Tyrion watched Robb approach, his eyes in slits as he calculated what the boy was going to do. When Robb met his gaze as he pulled a spear from the rack, Tyrion let out a sigh and relaxed back in his chair.
Grand Maester Pycelle stepped forward and began to say the traditional words that were often said at the beginning of these things. As he did, the Mountain grabbed his sword from his squire and shoved on his helm. Robb stepped up to his honor guard and nodded discreetly. If the Lannister’s thought he had foolishly come into the capital blindly, they were wrong. Robb had stationed Lords and Knights throughout the entire city who were ready to act the moment the horn sounded and Grey Wind howled from outside the walls where he sat in a tent with Lady Catelyn.
“Robb Stark, would you like to say any last words to your Father and Sisters?” Queen Cersei asked with a smile.
“There’s no need for that. These won’t be my last words.” Robb shoved on his helm, given to him by Dacey Mormont, and tested the weight of the spear in his hands. “Alright, you huge ass bastard. Give it your best shot.” And with his taunt, the Mountain advanced on him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The pain in his side was nothing compared to the amount of smugness he felt as Robb ripped the spear out of the Mountain’s skull. Turning to face the crowd around the dais that had fallen silent the moment the Mountain collapsed, Robb tossed the broken weapon at the feet of the Small Council and waved for his honor guard to collect his Father and Sisters.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” He spat a mouthful of blood at their feet
“Kill him! Kill him!” Joffrey yelled jumping to his feet.
No one moved. No one dared to. The Gods had seen fit to declare the Starks innocent of all crimes that had been stacked against them. Killing Robb or anyone of his party would be seen as going against the Gods.
Robb laughed “I hope to see you on the battle field, your Grace.” He said mockingly before turning and leading the Northerners and Riverlanders out of the city.