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Chapter 56
Robb Stark
His eyes opened to dim red light.
He was floating inside a thick sphere of sap, suspended in stillness.
Movement was difficult, but with a small exertion of telekinesis—one that sent a jolt of pain to his skull, Robb was able to slowly push himself out to the surface.
He took a deep gasp, finally able to breathe, and slowly but surely pushed himself away, until he stood, looking back at the red orb he was in.
Across from Robb floated what used to be Thorns.
His body was no longer that of a child of the forest. It had changed. His limbs were too long, his joints bent at wrong angles. The bark-like skin that once covered him was split and peeling, oozing sap like old wounds. Roots curled out from his back and sides, some tangled around his arms like some sort of unholy tumor.
His face was the worst of it. Parts of it looked melted, oozing with errant bubbles that made a disgusting sound. His mouth hung half open too wide, the black saliva floating into the sap with a sickening green hue. His eyes were missing, in their place was just an onyx surface that seemed like deep gaping holes.
The bronze spikes that chained him remained, glowing with ethereal lights, as if fighting against his corruption.
Robb stared at him for a while, the mismatch between the sickly, corrupted being before him, and the ambitious, scarred one he had in his memories allowed him to center himself, to think of those memories as others, and let his own wash over.
Feeling nothing but quiet disgust.
Robb grabbed one of the seven bronze chains attached to the child of the forest and pulled.
With no usage of the force, Robb slowly but surely pulled Thorns' corpse out of the orb. The moment he did so, it was as if the world around finally became aware of his death.
The red sap, held by the power of the ritual, finally flowed down as it ought to be. And the giant heart tree, only preserved by the corrupted power of Thorns and the ritual that imprisoned its captor, literally dissipated in a field of ashes, washed away by the wind and the spring flowing out of its roots.
Thoughts whirled in Robb's head, he realized from the new memories an insight unrelated to their content, but rather to his own reality.
It seems, that his own inability to express emotion, wasn't exactly a curse extended from 2nd's life, but rather a way for him to escape from his emotions.
2nd lost his ability to express himself because his muscles literally atrophied from lack of use, he depended on his natural Force Empathy so much that he felt facial expressions were unnecessary.
That brought with it its own issues, his fellow padawans in the creche soon learned to hide their emotions from him, and before receiving 1st memories, he was close to falling to the dark side from the sheer loneliness alone.
But Robb was just that, Robb. He had simply depended on his otherworldly set of skills too much, and used it as a mask to hide the grief he felt from his father's death.
His hand found itself cupping his own cheeks, massaging them as if waiting for them to move.
He sighed, only to freeze still when he realized. He actually sighed.
And as he finally turned around to the standing green men and his sleeping direwolf. Robb had an actual smile on his face, a very slight, almost imperceptible smile, but that didn't matter.
He could finally smile again.
*-*-*
It took some time for things to calm down, Robb spent those minutes pulling Thorns corpse in a more comfortable position, gathering the bronze chains around his body.
The Green Men seemed to deal with their own revelations, with Thorns loss, Robb gained all things he owned, including the force bond with the green men that allowed him to control them.
He hated being what signified as a slave owner.
A man finally gathered the courage to approach him.
"I would like you to take off your mask, if you want." Robb was very careful with his wording, anything that resembled an order will be enforced through their dark bond, he shall never do that.
The man who took out his mask had… unexpected features. He was lithe in form, despite the muscle he doubtlessly sported, his features were sharp and symmetrical, and he had platinum blond hair that was cut short on his head, but showed on his full beard.
But his eyes, they were large blue things that reminded him of another pair he saw the very same day.
"You are Alys Rivers' son."
The man hesitated for a second, and then he nodded.
"My name is Daemon Rivers." A rueful smile painted his face. "By request from my father."
Robb found that ironic, he supposed. That Aemond Targaryen would wish his son to be named after the man who eventually killed him.
It does seem to match with what he thought of him, though, a man whose greatest respect went to his greatest enemy.
"I may hold your chains, but I will not use that authority." Robb begins. "I also am capable of breaking those shackles, however, that will cause all of you to perish, which I do not like. Most of you did not even have a chance to live a life for it to end, and might as well be hundred year old children."
Robb looked at Daemon pointedly. "I do not think your fellows beyond the veil would wish to waste their sacrifice on a bunch of dead men either."
A slight smile made its way to Daemon's face.
"Very well, my lord." He said. "Then how must we proceed."
Robb turned his gaze downward, glancing at the corpse of Thorns, or more importantly, the giant crystal lump of sap at his heart.
It was a culmination of years of unwilling sacrifices, those of heart trees, animals, men, and even his own life force. It held within it enough energy to be a catalyst to a giant ritual.
The knowledge of Thorns and the expertise of 2nd's learning progress through force sects such as the mystical Baran Do Sages, the ascetic Order of Bai Bendu, and the healing Voss Mystics joined as one, allowing the creation of a purifying ritual using those crimson shards as catalysts, yet also allowing him to make some changes.
The amount of energy given by said ritual would even exceed the amount necessary to purify the Green Men into light sided versions of themselves.
His gaze turned to the colossal silhouette in the horizon, and couldn't help but think of the dwarven witch's prophecy.
"A Bastion for humanity indeed."
Daemon perked up at his words, waiting for an answer yet.
Robb turned back at him.
"I'm afraid you all shall man the barges."
"Why so?"
"To witness my coronation, of course."