GOTP Chapter 30

The camp was quieter than usual- men sharpening swords, dogs fighting over scraps, banners still wet from the morning fog.

Robb walked with Rhaenys along the edge of the camp trail, both saying little at first. The silence wasn't awkward, just stretched- the kind that came from two people used to leading others. One from sea, one from land.

Rhaenys broke it first."So," she said, glancing sideways. "Where's your friend? Grejoy?"

Robb looked ahead. He could've lied , but he didn't nor revealed for what. Anyway."I gave him a mission," Robb said, tone flat.

She hummed softly. "Must be a long one. Haven't seen him in days."

He didn't answer. The less said, the better.

Rhaenys looked around again. "And Lady Stark? I haven't seen her since morning."

That one made him pause for a moment. 

His mother had ridden out before sunrise with a small escort- try for alliance against Lion.

He didn’t like it, but someone had to go and she was the one he trust more.

"She's… away," Robb muttered. Rhaenys didn't press. She only nodded once, eyes scanning the sky like she was looking for something else to talk about.

Then came the sound.

A long, sharp screech tore through the air- not an ordinary eagle's cry, deeper, heavier. Every head turned upward.

Velmir.

The firebird swept over the camp, wings cutting the wind like a blade. Men dropped what they were doing. Horses reared. Someone shouted to fetch bows, only to get elbowed by another- don't be stupid, that thing's with her.

Velmir circled twice, then lowered himself toward a patch of open ground just beyond the camp road. The same direction Robb and Rhaenys were walking. Dust and heat rippled in his wake.

Rhaenys stopped, frowning. "He's back," she said, mostly to herself.

Robb stayed beside her, curious but cautious. "Does he always make that sound?"

"Only when he's… unsettled."

That didn't sound comforting.

Velmir landed hard, wings folding in, claws digging into the dirt. Something dangled from his grip,  something round.

As the men behind them caught up, Rhaenys walked forward. Robb followed, hand resting near his sword hilt out of habit more than intent.

When they got close enough, the smell hit first. Burnt flesh. The sickly stench of dried blood.

Velmir stared at them, feathers still faintly glowing. In his claws- a head. Human. The skin already tightening, drying from heat.

Robb stopped dead. Rhaenys let out a quiet sigh, the kind that sounded tired, not surprised.

Robb looked at her, then back at the head. “Gods,” he said quietly.

One of his men stepped forward, squinting. "My lord… that's Ser Gregor. The Mountain."

Another man nodded, pale. "I've seen him at the Hand's tourney. It's him, I swear it."

Robb blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of it. The Mountain? Dead?

He looked at Rhaenys again. She didn't react much. Just stared at the head like it was a thing she'd already expected to happen.

That told him everything. This wasn't random.

Velmir shifted slightly, claws digging deeper into the dirt. Heat shimmered around him. His feathers twitched from anger.

Robb stepped back on instinct. "What's he?"

Then he saw it. Rhaenys's face. Calm, too calm. Her eyes locked on the head, her mouth barely moving.

Velmir's head jerked toward her. The air thickened, hot enough to sting skin.

He stared at her, feathers bristling, chest rising fast, then at her lips again. One word.

Burn.

Flame erupted before anyone could breathe. A flash- white, orange, gone. The head turned to ash in seconds, nothing left but a faint smell of burnt flesh.

No one spoke.

Rhaenys turned to Robb. Her voice was even, almost bored. "I will retire for a while."

She walked off without waiting for a reply.

Velmir watched her go, smoke curling off his feathers, then spread his wings and lifted into the air again.

Robb stood there, still half-stunned, as the wind from Velmir's takeoff scattered what was left of the Mountain's ashes into the dirt.

One of his men swallowed hard. "Gods… it brought him back. The Mountain."

Robb didn't answer. His eyes were still on Rhaenys's back, the way she hadn't even flinched.

He wasn't sure what scared him more- the bird's fire, or how calm she'd been watching it burn. Head of her mother's killer and her brother's.