Chapter Text
The food was laid out on tables near the fires, most people were sitting on logs by fires or dancing near the musicians. No other lights were needed, as the bonfires lit the entirety of the yard. Robb could even make out the horses and carts still near the gates. Large tables and benches were scattered around the yard, however just as many people ate standing or milling around as the ones eating at the tables.
Their group walked towards one of the larger bonfires, with the table nearest to the center of the yard. Many inclined their heads as they passed, while others offered food. Robb managed to grab some wild berries and ate them slowly to mask his growing anxiety.
While he knew that this was most certainly not the twins, it was a feast of celebration all the same. Even though the only similarity was the great number of people eating food, and the music, the anxiety was there all the same.
Robb continued to look around, trying to distract himself. The Winterfell guards mixed freely with the clansmen sharing stories and laughing. There was an insane amount of food, and Robb could see children weaving around people in a game of chase. There were dogs, also weaving though people, but their purpose was eating fallen and gifted food. There was at least one barrel of what Robb assumed was mead near every fire, and a great deal more in groups around the yard. He could see a variety of food, including venison, boar, and some other meats Robb couldn’t identify from a distance. It was certainly a joyous event.
The wedding at the Twins had seemed joyous as well. Until it wasn’t.
Robb could see people staring at him, which only made the growing anxiety worse. People were always staring. Suddenly the wild berries felt as though they were caught in his throat, and his face grew hot. His vision blurred at the edges, narrowing down to the table just ahead of him. The only thing that felt real to him was his father’s hands on his legs, holding him in place, and acting as bright spots of heat on limbs he could no longer feel.
Distantly, he could hear voices laughing.
Why were they laughing.
His friends were dead
he was dying
where was greywind
where was his mother
he wanted greywind he wanted his mother
what should he do what could he do he failed oh god what—
The feel of hands under his armpits startled him out of his own head. He felt himself get lifted up before being swung back down onto his feet before releasing him. He stumbled. Only managing to stay on his feet by locking his knees. The wild berries slipped out of his hands and hit the ground just in front of him. They were gone in an instant, disappearing as a sleek brown dog gobbled them up. Robb let out a gasp, feeling disoriented and shaky.
It looked up at him. Golden eyes met his and Robb could see the dog’s tail start to wag. Robb reached forward to pet it, but it leaned forward to lick the hand that had held the berries. Robb just stared, he could tell his father was speaking, but couldn’t hear him. He reached out to scratch behind the dog's ear, the soft fur reminding him of Grey Wind.
The thought of his wolf calmed him enough that he was able to force himself to be aware of his surroundings, even if it also caused him to miss his companion.
“Robb, come eat. The dog will be here later.” His father sounds exasperated, and Robb cringes to think how many times he's been told the same thing.
“In a minute!” Robb says not looking at his father, rather switching to pet the dog with both hands, rubbing behind its ears. The sigh is one he’s heard many times before.
“The stark boy pays more attention to beasts than he does people. Seemed more interested in his horse than us and now he ignores us for a dog.” It was one of the twin Harclays, Beric or Baric, he wasn’t sure which.”
The next voice was clearly identifiable as Johan spoke harshly to the other man.
“The little wolf spilled the blood of wildings for that horse, and has acted as any warrior would. Allow him to act as a child as he pleases.” Robb looked up to see Johan glaring at the two men, as well as the rest of the table looking at Johan, the whispers already starting. The twin Harclays both turned their heads to look at Robb, and purely by accident, the one who spoke made eye contact with Robb.
His panic remained, accompanied by a fast beating heart.
But the toothy grin that broke out on Robb’s face was unhindered by it.
******
The feast was delicious. It had taken a pointed look from his father to get him to the table. Like the details about the bonfires, Ned’s stories of the clan feasts were not exaggerated. The Harclay kept calling for more food and drink, ensuring that their plates were never empty. His father and the Harclay mainly talked about the Clan’s preparations for winter, which were surprisingly similar to what Robb knew of Winterfell’s own preparations. He mostly tuned it out, instead choosing to listen to the clan’s stories of hunting for the feast. Most were thing Robb heard about in Winterfell, but one was interesting.
“Nearly broke my back helping carry that boar back and you get all the credit.” A man down the table said to Raya, the woman Robb had met in the hall.
She snorted and jabbed her knife in his direction.
“Cause I tracked the boar to the eastern border, and killed it, no thanks to you. Your arse was distracted by a bloody squirrel. Nearly gutted me like a damn fish, hell if it doesn’t taste good enough to be worth it though.” Raya said, stabbing a piece of meat and eating it to emphasize her point.
“I helped track it!” Robb couldn’t see the man speaking, but he sounded young, and indignant.
“How big was it?” Robb asked.
Raya turned to him and grinned. “Nearly as tall as I am and twice as wide. With tusks as long as my forearm. You ever hunted boar, little wolf?”
Robb shook his head. “Only smaller stuff. How’d you kill the boar?”
Raya wide with her arms. “I use a really big spear. Most boar you can kill with a well placed short blade, but some need something longer to put ‘em down.” She winked at him, “Got this Bastard right in the throat.”
Before anyone else could offer up another story The Harclay stood.
“I think it's time to give our guests some entertainment.” The Harclay yelled out to the yard, and was immediately met with cheers. There was a flurry of movement as people began to clamor closer to the center of the yard. The dancing stopped, and the music changed from a jovial tune to a series of drum beats.
The table cleared, and chairs were brought over for Ned and the Harclay. Robb sat on the ground by his father, with Ser Cassel standing at his back. The same dog as before came and laid next to him – although that likely had more to do with the meat he was eating than anything else.
He did give it some though.
Robb could see people standing on tables to see over the large group of people. He could see Donnis and another young guard chugging drinks while trying not to fall off the table. Robb caught his eye and waved with a grin. Donnis waved back, his companion grabbing him when the action knocked him off balance. Food was still being passed around and lots of drinks.
“Are there any grievances to be settled?” asked The Harclay.
“I WANT MY BLOODY DRINKING HORN BACK TORR!” someone towards the back of the group yelled. This was met with a round of laughter. Robb glanced at his father who was also smiling. A man stepped forward, young and broad, and took a pointed drink from a completely normal looking drinking horn.
“Come and get it then you prick!” the man said with a smile, as another man, presumably the one who yelled, pushed his way to the center.
“To first blood, disarmament, or yield." The Harclay said, before once again taking his seat. Both men had axes, about the same size and length. Both also had shields emblazoned with the Harclay coat of arms. They said something to one another, but the roar of the crowd and the drums made it impossible to hear.
In a blink they were moving. Axes meeting or hitting shields as both tried to knock the other down or disarm them. The axes seemed to take more effort to swing than a sword, but the blows were more pointed and impactful. There were shouts and jeers from the crowd, calling for one or the other to win.
Out of the corner of his eye Robb sees his father whisper something to the Harclay, who looks absolutely delighted.
He turns his attention back to the fight just as one of the men hooks the other’s shield with his axe and yanks it away. The one now without a shield tries to get another hit in, but the other man, the one who began the challenge, blocks with his shield and puts his axe at the other’s throat. The cheers somehow get louder, the two separate and put away their weapons. The man who lost, Torr, unhooks his drinking horn and hands it to the winner. Who claps him on the back and starts waving it in the. Both are laughing.
The Harclay claps his hands and stands. “Well now that the usual fare is done, I would like to test my own metal.” He steps forward before turning back and bowing to Robb’s father. If The Ned would be gracious enough to join me in a Feat of Arms.”
Robb turned to his father in excitement, and was thrilled when he stood.
“I accept.” Ned took the greatsword offered to him by Ser Cassel, likely because using Ice would be unfair in a fight that was for entertainment. The Harclay drew his own Greatsword, and the crowd roared.
Pushing himself to his feet, Robb watched as the Harclay starts the fight with a strong overhead swing that Robb’s father easily blocks. Their swords meet over and over, Ned clearly on the defensive. Still, he doesn’t give an inch. As he meets every swing of the Harclay’s sword, he is fast enough that it is the Harclay that is pushed back. The Harclay does get an opening, getting a clear swing from the left. Ned turns to face it, while stepping back to gain distance. He blocks, then quickly steps forward again. The Harclay tries to attack again, but Robb’s father is too close and he is unable to get any real momentum. Trying to remedy this, the Harclay steps back. Which acts as Ned’s cue to go on the offensive.
Robb bounces on his heels as his father begins to force the Harclay further back. He has seen his father fight, but watching him against a man Robb barely knows is far more interesting.
The fight eventually reaches what Robb considers an inevitable conclusion, when his father hits the Harclay’s sword hard enough near the hilt so that he almost loses his grip, taking the opening, Ned brings his sword up to the Harclay’s throat.
Silence, then a cheer goes out as the Harclay laughs and sheaths his sword. He bows to Ned, who inclines his head in return. They say something, but like with the last fight the crowd makes it impossible to hear. As the two men return to their seats Ned hands the borrowed great sword back to Ser Cassel. Robb is immediately at his father’s side.
“I knew you’d win.” he says, quiet enough that the Harclay can’t hear. Ned laughs.
“I appreciate the confidence.”
Another round of cheers go up as Raya and another man enter the center.
“Let's see if you can predict the winner of this fight.”
****
Robb is right in saying Raya will win, and is only wrong on the winner of the fights once. Eventually, the entertainment changed from fighting to dancing. The musicians played loud, upbeat tunes, sometimes switching with others so they themselves could dance. They had had to move tables out of the way, even though some had seemed perfectly happy to dance atop them.
Robb was currently being swung around by one of the Winterfell guards. This dance had a lot of spinning and switching partners. The few kids left dancing were being spun around in the air, and Robb was no exception. He was laughing and dizzy, with sweat dripping from his brow with the exertion. He was practically tossed to Raya who caught him smoothly. Robb was happy she spun him in the opposite direction, else he might have puked up the feast. The music reached an end and he was placed back on his feet. If it had been a more formal dance, he would have had to bow. Instead Raya ruffled his hair.
“I’ll see you in the morning little wolf, I've business to take care of tonight.” she grinned, and Robb smiled back. Turning to look for his father, who was speaking to Ser Cassel. At one of the few remaining tables near the center of the yard. Ducking through people as they began to move for the next dance, Robb made his way over to the two men.
“Did he hurt himself?” his father asked Ser Cassel as Robb sat on the bench next to his father, turning to the table behind him and grabbing a drink.
“Not seriously. He managed to avoid falling in the actual fire, but banged his head on the stones. Edwyle is taking care of him.” Ser Cassel sighed. “He’s the only one that hurt himself, but I guarantee some very unhappy men in the morning.”
Robb’s father shook his head as Robb leaned against him. “Is anyone not drunk off their arse?”
“Ser Cassel raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect anyone to be, my lord?” Both men chuckled. The music changed again, as did the dance. People began to form lines. His father said something else to Ser Cassel, but Robb had stopped listening. He stared at the fires as he fought to keep his eyes from closing. His limbs had suddenly become much heavier, and his eyes were dry.
He told himself they would only be closed for a minute before he fell asleep.