✅️ The Last Velaryon - Robb Stark

50 - The Iron Throne War

The wind, sharp and biting, whipped at my cloak as I stood at the edge of the ridge, overlooking the sprawling chaos that was to be King's Landing. From this vantage point, the city looked like a festering boil on the hide of Westeros, a breeding ground for vipers and treachery. Below, our combined armies of the North and the Stormlands were poised, a coiled serpent ready to strike. Robb, my husband, the King in the North, stood beside me, his face grim, etched with the weight of the coming battle.

"You should be back at the camp, Haelesa," he said, his voice a low rumble against the wind. "It's no place for you here."

I met his gaze, my own resolve hardening. "And where exactly is my place, Robb? Knitting by the fire while my husband and my people risk their lives to secure a future for our children? I am a Northerner now by my marriage to you, Robb, bred to withstand hardship, to fight for what I believe in. My place is beside you, beside our men, fighting for the North and for what is right."

He sighed, running a hand through his thick, auburn hair, a gesture that always tugged at my heart. "I know your heart, Haelesa. But this is war. It's brutal, unpredictable. I can't bear the thought of you being..." He choked on the words, unable to voice the fear that haunted us both.

"Just as I can't bear the thought of you facing it alone," I countered, my voice firm. "I am not some delicate flower to be sheltered, Robb. I've grown up since the time I left the island of Driftmark in Blackwater Bay. I can wield a sword, ride a horse, and defend myself. Don't underestimate me."

He knew I was right. He knew my spirit, my stubbornness. He also knew the futility of arguing when I had made up my mind. He looked away, towards the city, his jaw tight.

"At least wear armor," he conceded finally, the words grudging. "And stay close to me. No heroics, Haelesa. Promise me."

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. "I promise. I'll stay by your side."

As we descended the ridge, the air grew thick with anticipation. The roar of the approaching armies was deafening, a symphony of war drums, war horns, and the frantic cries of men preparing for battle. Robb and Renly Baratheon, leading their respective forces, rode side-by-side, a sight that should have been a symbol of unity, a beacon of hope. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at me. Alliances forged in desperation often crumble under the weight of ambition.

We reached the staging ground, a chaotic swirl of men, horses, and siege equipment. Soldiers were sharpening their blades, strapping on their armor, and bidding farewell to their comrades, some for the last time. The air reeked of sweat, fear, and the acrid tang of steel.

I donned the armor Robb had insisted upon, a sturdy breastplate crafted by the finest blacksmith in Winterfell. It felt heavy, cumbersome, but it was a necessary protection. I strapped on my sword, the familiar weight comforting against my hip.

Robb approached, his eyes scanning me with a mixture of concern and pride. He adjusted my helm, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "Remember your promise, Haelesa. Stay with me."

I nodded, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and fear. "I will."

The signal horn blared, a long, mournful sound that echoed across the battlefield. The attack had begun.

With a thunderous roar, our armies surged forward, a tide of steel and fury crashing against the walls of King's Landing. The archers unleashed a storm of arrows, darkening the sky and raining down upon the city. The siege engines lumbered forward, their massive arms flinging boulders and burning pitch at the walls.