CHAPTER 178
It was a gloomy morning.
Roughly two miles southeast of the crossroads where the Kingsroad met the High Road leading toward the Vale, an open stretch of gently rising grassland lay beneath a gray sky.
Small yellow and green wildflowers covered the field.
The terrain was broad and unobstructed, leaving no place for either side to conceal soldiers.
Because of that, it had been chosen as the meeting place between Robb Stark and King Stannis Baratheon.
Concerned above all else for Rickon's safety, Robb and his party arrived first.
Robb wore black leather armor embossed with the direwolf of House Stark across his breast.
Tucked into his belt was a small wooden blade carved from weirwood, a gift from Garon, which he intended to carry as protection against Melisandre's sorcery.
He sat astride a powerful gray warhorse while Grey Wind paced silently beside him.
Behind Robb stood a dozen members of his personal household guard, with Ser Petyr Frey among them.
Farther behind, Roose Bolton and Lord Rodrik Harlaw each commanded roughly one hundred men, remaining well back as witnesses rather than participants.
Robb's expression remained solemn as he watched the distant road leading from Saltpans.
He waited patiently until the morning mist finally disappeared.
At last, Stannis appeared.
Whether out of confidence or simple pride, the King of Dragonstone brought only around thirty mounted companions.
Among them rode Davos Seaworth, Melisandre of Asshai, and several trusted guards.
Nearly four hundred yards away, part of Stannis's escort halted.
Robb immediately recognized a familiar figure.
Rickon.
His younger brother was seated before one of Stannis's guards upon a single horse.
"Rickon!"
Robb shouted instinctively.
He almost spurred his horse forward to rescue him.
The moment Rickon heard his brother's voice, his frightened face lit up.
"Robb!"
He struggled desperately.
The guard immediately pressed a dagger against the boy while restraining him.
"Stay where you are, Stark."
"If you value your brother's life, don't move."
At that moment, Stannis rode forward alongside Davos and Melisandre before speaking coldly.
The two kings stopped roughly ten paces apart.
Robb's eyes first settled upon Rickon's frightened face.
Next they moved toward Melisandre in her crimson robes.
Finally they rested upon Stannis himself.
"King Stannis."
"You are a king."
"Is threatening a child worthy of your honor?"
Stannis's face remained as hard as carved stone.
His cold blue eyes burned with unwavering determination.
"Stark."
His voice resembled stone grinding against stone.
"Your father swore loyalty to House Baratheon."
"Yet you crowned yourself king."
"What honor gives you the right to question mine?"
"I came only to offer you one final chance."
"Kneel before your rightful king."
"Confess your treason."
"I may yet show mercy."
He spoke as though passing judgment.
Robb's expression immediately turned cold.
Suppressing his anger, he answered calmly.
"I became king to avenge my father."
"And to defend the freedom of the North."
"I've committed no crime requiring forgiveness."
"I'm here only to reclaim my brother."
"What must I do to have Rickon returned safely?"
Stannis answered without hesitation.
"Kneel."
"Swear fealty."
"Place your armies beneath my command."
"We'll destroy the Lannister usurpers together."
"When victory is ours..."
"I'll return Rickon."
"You'll remain Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."
He spoke as though granting extraordinary generosity.
Robb laughed.
"What right has a defeated king to demand that I kneel?"
The Young Wolf refused to yield even an inch.
"You murdered your own brother Renly through dark sorcery."
"And now you threaten me with my own brother."
"King Stannis."
"Was your crown won through honor..."
"Or through fear?"
Those words struck Stannis directly.
"Enough!"
His furious eyes locked upon Robb.
For a brief moment, he made no attempt to deny Renly's death.
"Renly was a traitor."
"He stole the crown that belonged to me."
"I offered him mercy."
"As I now offer mercy to you."
Robb laughed again.
"Mercy?"
"All I see..."
"Is a defeated king hiding behind sorcery and a frightened child."
"You lost at the Blackwater."
"You lost your fleet."
"You lost your army."
"And now..."
"You would throw away the honor House Baratheon earned under King Robert as well."
Before Stannis could answer, Robb urged his horse one step forward.
The fierce presence that had earned him the name Young Wolf burst outward.
Even Stannis's stern royal bearing seemed briefly overshadowed.
"Return my brother."
Robb's voice rolled across the open grassland like winter thunder.
"Or I'll march on Saltpans."
"I'll tear down your banners."
"And hang both you and your red priestess from its walls."
The moment his words ended, every member of Robb's household guard drew steel.
Behind them, Roose Bolton, Rodrik Harlaw, and their men immediately did the same.
Across the field, Davos and Stannis's guards instinctively unsheathed their own weapons.
For an instant, the air itself seemed frozen.
Only Melisandre remained perfectly calm.
Her crimson eyes briefly settled upon the weirwood dagger hanging at Robb's waist.
A faint smile of amusement touched her lips.
Then she calmly rode forward beside Stannis.
Her clear voice echoed across the field.
"His Grace Stannis Baratheon is the chosen champion of the Lord of Light."
"He is the prince who shall stand against the darkness."
"Those who cling to false gods will find only ruin."
"Bow before R'hllor."
"Bow before the true king."
"Only then shall you be saved."
Robb ignored her entirely.
His eyes never left Stannis.
"King Stannis."
"You have two days."
"If Rickon is not returned within two days..."
"I'll march upon Saltpans."
"I'll spare no soldier who follows your banners."
Stannis's face became deathly pale with rage.
His jaw tightened violently.
Never in his life had anyone humiliated him so openly.
Melisandre gently rested one hand upon his arm.
Warmth seemed to flow through him.
His anger gradually settled into something colder.
His blue eyes no longer burned with fury.
Instead they radiated deadly resolve.
"You'll regret this, Stark."
His words escaped through clenched teeth.
"A king's wrath is more terrible than you can imagine."
"You'll pay for today's arrogance with your life."
Without another word, Stannis sharply turned his horse.
His escort immediately followed.
Rickon remained tightly restrained.
They feared Robb might attack regardless of the boy's safety.
Fortunately, Robb remained calm.
Though every instinct urged him to charge, he could not risk Rickon's life.
He listened helplessly as his younger brother's cries gradually faded into the distance.
Even after Stannis disappeared, an uneasy feeling lingered deep within his heart.
"Let's return."
Robb frowned and turned his horse back toward camp.
As he rode away, Melisandre suddenly looked back over her shoulder.
Her ruby-red eyes remained fixed upon Robb's retreating figure.
A strange, cruel smile slowly spread across her lips.
Thunder rolled across the heavens.
Dark clouds gathered overhead.
Cold rain began to fall across the grasslands.
Within that approaching storm, darker shadows were already beginning to stir.
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