Lord Robb Stark
The war was still raging, a new year, a new century had dawned and yet the war was still raging. Lannister was broken, Baratheon was all but dead, the ironborn were no longer a threat, and yet the war still raged on. Robb did not know how to feel, his brother was still missing, his men were ragged and tired, he was desperate to go home, and now, well now his father was supposedly alive and well, and in Storm's End with a pretender. Robb felt betrayed by that, betrayed to his very core. His father had not bothered to write for two years, then suddenly decided to write and he thought by doing that that things would go back to normal? Robb despised that, despised his father's weakness, despised him from abandoning him, their family, everything that had gone wrong was because of his father, and he was sick to his stomach at the thought. This meeting with the King, Robb hoped would provide him with something to think about. The King was tall, he wore a black doublet, with the three-headed dragon of his house emblazoned on it, a crown of gold and steel atop his head, he looked a King, more than Joffrey ever had.
They were sat opposite one another, in the King's own solar, the King speaks then his voice deep and resounding. "Welcome to King's Landing Lord Stark. I hope you find it to your welcome." A brief pause, then the King continues. "My deepest apologies for the deaths of your wife and unborn child, the Lannister evil knows no limits it would seem."
Uncertainly Robb says. "Thank you for that Your Grace." He knows the Lannisters co-ordinated with the Freys and others to ensure that his wife and child died, the pain and satisfaction of dealing with that still haunts him.
The King nods, seemingly analysing him, looking at him in a way that makes Robb feel most uncomfortable. "Tell me Lord Stark, what do you make of Tommen and Cersei Baratheon? Some of my advisors tell me that they must die, so that the threat to my reign is removed, whilst others tell me that the boy can live, and rule as a Lannister, that a grandson of Tywin Lannister would do better than a brother of the man."
Robb hesitates here, he knows the Westerlands is broken, Kevan Lannister is a broken man himself, and whilst it would give him a lot of pleasure to see the Lannisters and their home in chaos, it would not be good for the realm. Carefully he replies. "I think that Kevan Lannister would do a much better job, and the belief that he owes his life and that of his family to you, would do much to keep him line Sire."
The King seems impressed by this response, something that greatly surprises Robb. "An honest answer, good. I happen to agree with you, Kevan Lannister would owe me more than a mere boy, though a boy can be used and shaped, however there are those who would believe him to be a son of Robert Baratheon still and would seek to use that against me. I cannot allow that."
Uneasily, Robb asks. "What would you do with him?"
"I would put him into the citadel. There he can be looked over by those loyal to me, whilst also doing something he enjoys. I have been told he likes to read." The King responds.
"A good idea Your Grace. And what of Cersei Lannister?" Robb asks.
The King gives him a measured look, then states. "She will die."
Robb wants to ask why, but gets the feeling that asking the King such a thing would not be a smart idea; therefore, he merely nods. However, there is something that is bothering him, and so he asks. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you Sire."
"And what is that?" the King asks curious.
"The Dothraki have been camped inside and outside the city for many moons now, and there are reports that they are causing issue with some of the people. My own men have nearly come into conflict with them on numerous occasions. What I want to know is what will you do about them?" Robb asks.
The King takes a sip of water, puts the cup down, then looks at him. "The Dothraki will be used to deal with any who disobey my rule, and they shall also be used as practice."
"Practice?" Robb asks uncertain over whether he actually wants to know what the King means.
The King nods. "Practice. There is another war coming, and the Dothraki will be needed for it, however, they are a drain on resources, resources that the people of my kingdom will need. They shall be used as practice for those who need it, for the fighting to come."
Robb is unsure of how to respond to that, and so he merely nods. "I see Sire, a very good idea." Personally, he finds the Dothraki as undesirable and as savages, the fewer of them there are the better.
A moment of silence passes between them, as they both drink from their cups, Robb feels himself settling down, feeling less on edge than he did before, but there is still a feeling inside of him that makes him sit straight, unable, or perhaps unwilling to fully relax in front of the King. It seems he is proven right to behave as such when the King asks. "So your lord father sits with the pretender in Storm's End. Tell me my lord, how do you feel about that?"
A mixture of emotions run through Robb then, confusion, anger, revulsion, everything he has ever felt since learning of his father's continued survival. Eventually he says. "My father is a traitor to you Your Grace. I do not know why he has supported this pretender but I, House Stark and the north do not."
"Can you guarantee that?" the King asks.
"Yes." Robb responds simply, unsure of whether it is completely true and not willing to find out.
"Very well, you may leave now, and make sure to keep your men in order." The King says.
Robb stands, bows. "Yes Your Grace." Then he walks out of the room, releasing a breath he did not know he was holding.