Tour
Chapter 18
Tour
The Wind Witch made port in King’s Landing within fourteen days after her departure from White Harbor. Hermione remarked that they were making exceptionally decent time, though for the first few days she had been terribly ill from seasickness. Robb seemed to fare a bit better than her, though he had also been sick for about a day. After that, he had found his sea legs a lot quicker than she did. The experience had been so intense for her, that she vowed that when she did reach the Citadel, one of her goals would be developing a tonic for intense motion sickness to quickly counter such ailment.
Thankfully, it did not last past the fifth day for her, and she was soon able to stroll the length of the ship with Robb and Grey Wind, passing the time with conversation and making plans about what they would do once arriving at their destinations. On the last day of their sea voyage, they leaned against the ramparts and watched as the ship entered what they believed was Blackwater Bay.
High overhead, the far-eyes sang out from the rigging. The captain came scrambling across the deck, giving orders, and all around them the Wind Witch burst into frenetic activity as King’s Landing slid into view atop the three high hills.
Hermione knew from reading the histories of Westeros that three hundred years ago, those heights had been covered with forest, and only a handful of fisherfolk had lived on the north shore of the Blackwater Rush where that deep, swift river flowed into the sea. Then Aegon the Conqueror had sailed from Dragonstone. It was here that his army had put ashore, and there on the highest hill that he built his first crude redoubt of wood and earth.
Now the city covered the shore as far as Hermione could see; manses and arbors and granaries, brick storehouses and timbered inns and merchant stalls, taverns and graveyards and brothels, all piled one on another. She could hear the clamor of the fish market even at this distance. Between the buildings were broad roads lined with trees, wandering crookback streets, and alleys so narrow that two men could not walk abreast. Visenya’s hill was towers. Across the city on the hill of Rhaenys stood the blackened walls of the Dragonpit, its huge doors closed now for a century. The Street of the Sisters ran between them, straight as an arrow. The city walls rose in the distance, high and strong.
A hundred quays lined the waterfront, and the harbor was crowded with ships. Deepwater fishing boats and river runners came and went, ferrymen poled back and forth across the Blackwater Rush, trading galleys unloaded goods from Braavos and Pentos and Lys. Hermione spied an ornate barge, which was so lavish it could only have belonged to the royal family, tied up beside a fat-bellied whaler, its hull black with tar, while upriver a dozen lean, golden warships rested in their cribs, sails furled and cruel iron rams lapping at the water.
And above it all, frowning down from Aegon’s high hill, was the Red Keep; seven huge drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts, an immense grim barbican, vaulted halls and covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries, massive curtain walls studded with archers’ nests, all fashioned of pale red stone. Aegon the Conqueror had commanded it built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterwards he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. “Only the blood of the dragon will ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built,” he vowed.
She could have shaken her head with the cruel stupidity. Thanks to that, Maegor had found it very difficult to find workers to build his future ambitious constructs. He should have been called Maegor the Cruel Fool for that alone.
Yet now the banners that flew from its battlements were golden, not black, and where the three-headed dragon had once breathed fire, now pranced the crowned stag of House Baratheon.
“Never has a ship been so fast in reaching its destination,” Qos said, coming up behind Hermione and Rob as they took in the city. “The wind was with us the whole journey, doubling our speed.”
“Your ship is well-named, Captain,” Hermione smiled. “For your swiftness, each of your crew shall receive a copper star for their work.”
It wasn't a large tip, but Hermione figured it was better than nothing. She could at least buy a drink for all of them. Qos bowed in gratitude to that remark, appreciating the extra coin to his men.
Finally, they reached the capital and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as they led their horses off of the ship. But her breath of relief nearly choked her as she inhaled the sharp and pungent fumes of the city.
“Dear gods!” Robb said beside her, crossing his arm over his nose. “What is that stench?”
“At’s the city shit pots,” the captain said with far too much humor in Hermione’s opinion. “Takes some time to get used to.”
“Don’t they have a sewer system?” Hermione asked with appall.
“Aye,” said the first mate coming up behind the captain. He was a squat bald man with several missing teeth and wore a thin shirt and baggy pants with sandals. “Lota good ‘at does. The city’s been going to hell for years. Ever since the Lannister butcher sacked the city and the usurper whore king took the throne for ‘imself. My sister Layla had a bastard shoved inside her during the rape.”
Both Hermione and Robb’s eyes went wide. From the corner of her eye, she saw Robb open and close his mouth, not sure how he ought to respond to that. She wasn't sure if he was winding up to give the first mate a piece of his mind or offer condolences to his sister, but either way, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t. Just let it be. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” And with that, she pushed him forward and they took their horses and Grey Wind away. She tried to console him as they walked off, reminding him that everyone had an opinion about everything and based on how they benefitted from the country’s rulers, they would either be perceived as good or bad, depending on whom they asked. They couldn’t expect everyone to like their leaders. And getting into a fight over it wouldn’t do them any favors so it was preferable to just leave it be.
They walked on and took in the bustling city.
“Do you want to do some sight-seeing?” Hermione suggested. “Since we’re here, at least. I can see the Sept of Baelor, already. Perhaps we could rest and eat a bit at an inn and then take a tour?”
“That may be enjoyable, though I thought you wanted to get on the road as soon as possible?”
“Yes. But seeing as we are ahead of schedule, I thought perhaps we could relax just for a day.”
Robb looked like he was pleased with the idea. She knew he would like to take a closer look at the capitol and she wouldn’t deny she also held some interest to see the historical landscapes a bit closer. From what she saw just from the ship, the city structures were indeed quite the marvel.
She had been to Paris in her third year with her parents and had toured all the most wonderful buildings, from the Eifel Tower to the ancient Notre Dame.
Even as she knew this trip would be far from that leisurely holiday, especially without a guidebook, she was still eager to see more of Westeros’s capitol.
They found an inn and reserved their room so they could store their belongings and eat a bit, yet they weren’t as tired as they expected to be and decided to start their tour of the city. They chose to visit the Sept of Baelor first since it was the closest to their inn by the harbor. They passed through Fishmonger’s Square and listened to the merchants as they shouted about these wears and that, urging potential buyers to purchase their stock.
They stopped only to buy some roasted eel to snack on and proceeded on their way. From there they made their way through the Street of Steel, justly named due to the fact that most smiths took up residence there. Even from where she was on horseback, Hermione heard the sound of hammers hitting metal and felt the heat of forges as they melted minerals into liquid before pouring them in molds.
They passed dozens of shops, glancing at the examples of their works that were on display and Hermione thought perhaps being a smith would not have been such a bad life either. They turned a corner and were soon met with the front entrance of the Great Sept at the very top of Visenya’s Hill.
It was indeed worthy of being considered one of the great marvels of the known world. The plaza of white marble that surrounded the sept featured a statue of King Baelor himself, standing tall and serene upon a plinth with his face a study of benevolence. Large gardens, capable of holding hundreds of people, surrounded the sept, and marble steps led up to the building.
The sept itself, was an impressive marble structure with a great dome and seven slender crystal towers, the bells of which were rung in mourning or to gather crowds. The lofty dome was made of leaded glass, gold, and crystal. Before the doors leading into the building was a raised marble pulpit from which she imagined a septon would address a gathered crowd. There was no crowd today, which made their arrival much easier as they left their horses in a nearby public stable and climbed the steps with Grey Wind at their sides.
Much to their surprise, however, they were greeted by none other than the high septon himself. A fat man who had no name anymore, as he had given his life and thus his title to the gods when he accepted the holy position. Hermione recognized him by his long fine robes and rainbow crystal crown.
The septon smiled to the two as they reached the top of the steps. “Thank you for visiting the sept of Baelor, Lord Stark.” Their confusion was insurmountable as they were quite certain they had told no one who they were or that they were even there in the city.
Perhaps the spies employed by the small council were shrewder than they imagined. Then again, maybe a direwolf was easier to tell from regular wolves and anyone with half a brain could put two and two together when identifying the Stark heir and his familiar.
“You know me?” Robb asked.
“Aye,” the septon nodded. “I received word of your arrival to the city by way of messenger. It would seem your lady mother contacted one of her friends on the small council to instruct us of your impending visit to the capitol.”
“I see.” He exchanged a look with Hermione and they were both thinking the same thing. Did Catelyn intend to have her so-called friend take him back North? Hermione wouldn’t have put it passed the woman to do so, but Robb wasn’t likely to take well to that.
The septon went on as if he hadn’t noticed their small exchange. “Are you and your wife merely visiting the city?”
“No, no. Uh, we’re not married,” Robb corrected, turning a little pink.
“Ah,” the man’s shrewd and judgmental gaze switched between the two. “I see then.”
“No, it’s not like that either,” Robb countered defensively.
Hermione struggled not to laugh. “He means to say that we’re foster siblings, your holiness, and it’s safer to travel in numbers especially while crossing a continent.”
The septon didn’t look like he fully believed that but verbally accepted it just the same. “Well, if that’s how it is.”
“It is,” they declared simultaneously.
“Very well. I’m pleased to hear that.”
In an attempt to ease the tension, Hermione hooked her arm around Robb’s and chuckled warmly to the man. “If you’ll permit us, we’d like to look around, my non-husband and I.”
“Of course, if you’d like I would be happy enough to provide a guide for your tour. I’m afraid other engagements have called me away so I cannot do so myself, but I have Bertrum here, he’s one of our brothers available to show you the finer parts of the sept and give you some details on its history.”
“That would be welcomed,” Hermione agreed. The brother in question, a man dressed in brown monks' robes with a rainbow belt and simple leather sandals, stepped forward and held his arm out to lead them inside. “If your hound could wait outside…”
“Grey Wind does not leave our side,” Robb insisted instantly. “If you are worried, have no need. He will not attack anyone unless I command him to, and I do not wish for that to happen.”
The brother looked reluctant, but eventually relented just the same. “As you wish, then, my lord.”
With that, their tour began.
Past the towering outer doors, was the Hall of Lamps, with its suspended globes of colored leaded glass and polished marble floor. As they went further inside, they came upon a cavernous sept, where seven broad aisles met beneath the dome. The interior contained benches for worshippers and a stepped marble bier upon which bodies could be placed for funerals. The building had high windows, and light reflected into rainbows by hanging crystals as well as the glass dome, and incense sweetened the air.
The sept had towering stone statues of the Seven. Scented candles were placed by worshippers at each altar, with most placed before those of the Mother and the Maiden. The Stranger was easily the god with the fewest as they represented the aspect of death.
Bertrum led them around the wide circle and explained the further importance of each god and why they stood upon their separate-colored stone altars, even though the two visitors already knew their significance.
The Faith of the Seven was the dominant religion in most of Westeros, though there were worshipers of all faiths that lived in the Capitol. In the North the majority of people worshiped the Old Gods, spirits that lived in nature and were countless and nameless. Robb and his siblings worshiped both the faith of their mother and the faith of their father. Hermione worshiped none. If she had to identify as any religion, she would say she was Agnostic, though most of her family on her mother's side was Catholic.
As they moved further into the building, Hermione found it hard not to find the entire structure utterly breathtaking, from both the inside and out. King Baelor certainly knew how to honor his gods. They saw the seven transepts, various crypts and chapels, and a glimmering rainbow pool. The sept had tombs where kings were laid to rest, and its vaults held costly vestments, rings, crystal crowns, and other treasures of the Faith.
They spent a good deal of time in the sept that day with Bertrum guiding them and relaying the histories of kings and queens and the Faith, yet by the time they were through, the sun was still high in the sky and they were still eager for another adventure.
So next, they visited the Dragonpit. They did their best to avoid Flea Bottom, the poorest district of the capitol and likely the most violent and crime-riddled, or so they had been told. The last thing they wanted was to be mugged on their first day, though the sight of Grey Wind discouraged all who saw him from attempting such a thing.
The Dragonpit was a huge, cavernous building that sat atop the Hill of Rhaenys. Once a home for the royal dragons of House Targaryen, it has been abandoned for a century and a half and now lied in ruins. Even at a distance and even as it was in ruins, it was still easily one of the largest buildings in the city. And yet, from what Hermione learned through the histories, it was believed that the confines of the Dragonpit had actually restricted the growth of dragons kept within.
Its main gate consisted of massive doors, mainly bronze with some iron, and were so wide, that thirty knights could ride through it at once. Sadly, the Dragonpit did not admit visitors as its huge doors had been sealed for over a century and the great dome was broken.
Hermione explained all this to Robb as they circled the enormous building from the outside, also remarking that in its place there had been the Sept of Remembrance before it, which housed the Warrior’s Sons, a group of battle monks that worshiped the Faith of the Seven. Maegor the Cruel had feuded with them and burned it down with the help of his dragon while they were all gathered for daily prayer. Then he erected a stone stable for royal dragons in its place.
She had read stories about its uses after the dragons had all died out during the Dance of Dragons, then how Ser Tyland Lannister, the Hand of the King in the first years of Aegon III Targaryen’s reign, attempted to restore it by setting hundreds of stonemasons, carpenters, and builders to work. But during the Great Spring Sickness, so many people from King’s Landing died so quickly that there was no time to bury the bodies. Instead, they were piled up in the Dragonpit, and when the corpses were ten feet deep, the Hand of the King, Lord Bryden Rivers, ordered the pyromancers to burn them. They say the light of the fires shone through the windows, and by night, citizens could see the dark green glow of wildfire all through King’s Landing.
They could see the great doors from where they were on their horses, though a score of lesser entrances were also present all around the building, some of them were oak-and-iron doors likely warped with the building’s collapse and unwilling to budge open no matter how strong a person was.
Hermione’s curiosity and desire to get a closer look at it all, had her stopping her horse as she spotted an entrance that looked promising.
“Do you want to see if there’s a way inside?” Hermione suggested, mischievously. Robb gawked at her. Of all the people to suggest trespassing inside an ancient ruin, he likely believed little rule-follower Hermione was the last person on that list.
“You want to go inside? Even after everything you’ve just said about that place?”
“Sure,” and she lowered from her steed, giving him a provoking smile. “Not afraid, are you, my lord?”
That seemed to do the trick in getting him down. “I’ll show you who’s afraid, my lady.”
Hermione snorted with those last words, “Lady indeed.”
“Yes, I suppose I ought to rethink that last word. A true lady would not dare suggest an adventure like this.”
“We non-ladies are so much more fun in that way,” Hermione led the way as they circled the building, looking for the most discrete entrance inside while Rob and Grey Wind followed behind her. She kept her wand at the ready beneath her cloak.
“I heard that the dragons that were kept here never reached the size of their ancestors,” Robb informed, wanting to show that he too knew a thing or two about history. “The largest was perhaps the size of a small elephant. Before that, they could grow as big as mountains. Or so the legends say.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Hermione added. “There’s an urban legend that says goldfish never grow larger than the container they are kept in. If they have no container, there is no limit to their growth, provided their lifespan is long.”
“I guess the Targaryens should have kept a few goldfish then.”
Hermione chuckled at the thought. “Oh yes, that would have struck fear in the heart. Keep watch while I get us inside.”
He took a stance and swept his gaze across the tree line. She tried first her Alohamora but there was more keeping the door closed than a simple lock, so she used a forceful Bombarda. That seemed to do the trick as the door nearly broke in half as it swung opened with a nearly deafening boom. The crash was loud enough to make each of them pause with trepidation and look fearfully around to be sure it hadn’t alerted anyone. With confirmation that their exploit was still concealed, they stepped through the dark entrance. Before going too far inside, Hermione pulled out a crystal from her robes and enchanted it. Immediately, it began to shine like a beacon and she handed it to Robb.
“It’s better if there are a few sources of light between us while we’re in here,” she explained, while her wand began to shine with her Lumos spell. “And if we get separated, I wouldn’t want you to be without something to see by.”
Robb looked gleefully delighted to hold the crystal, almost like for a moment he was a wizard, too.
They stepped further inside and rounded a corner. Jolting as if something had just occurred to her, Hermione turned to one of the stones in the wall and carved out a bright white rune, marking their path back to the door. And that was when their exploration began.
They saw the dragon dens, which were long brick-lined tunnels dug deep into the hillside, fashioned like caves five times as large as the Chamber of Secrets. Robb began explaining what he knew about the structure, his voice bouncing off the walls like a distorted ghost.
“After the death of Maegor, King Jaehaerys saw to the Dragonpit’s completion and created a new order of seventy-seven warriors, the Dragonkeepers, to guard the royal dragons. It must have been quite an honor to be one of the seventy-seven.”
“Did they have to forgo all family and titles when they joined?” Hermione asked, unimpressed at the so-called honor if that was the case. It seemed like a common trope amongst prestigious positions of that nature, the kingsguard, maesters, and Knight’s Watch being three examples.
“I don’t think so,” Robb said, navigating the light in his palm to look down a large, cavernous den.
Hermione snorted. “There’s a first.”
“Well, it’s an order that’s been disbanded for the better part of a hundred and fifty years, so there wouldn’t be much information about it.”
“I suppose not.”
Just then, Grey Wind began to growl lowly. They both turned and saw him bowed as his maw curled to expose his canines defensively. A moment later they realized it was because off in the distance they heard a low chanting coming down one of the chambers. As they neared, they saw a faint green glow dancing on the blackened walls. Exchanging a look with each other, they doused their lights at the same time and crept closer to the chanting, pressing against the walls to stay as concealed as possible.
They got on their hands and knees when the chamber they were walking down opened up to a deep underground enclave. Peeking out over the side, they came upon a circle of robed people who were gathered around a great burning green fire. In the center of their backs was a symbol. A white circle with three white lines like blades jutting from the bottom, with the center line being the longest. Their hands were held out and they were speaking in a language that neither of them understood, though Hermione wondered if it may have been High Valerian. It seemed apparent that they had stumbled upon a ritual of some kind and the green flames that were burning in front of them could only have been wildfire.
The two trespassers exchanged another look, wondering what this was about.
Someone at the head of the circle, whose robes seemed different and grander than the others, began to sing in a loud baritone. Then followers off to the side began to bring things out and throw them into the fire. After each cast, the rest of the circle would punctuate it with more ominous chants.
They watched as they began to cast what looked to be animal skulls and organs inside. Hermione didn’t recognize all of them, but she could have sworn she saw the skull of a deer and a lion hide thrown inside. Then she saw the unmistakable shape of a large dragon skull being tossed into the green light.
“What are they doing?” Robb hissed. But Hermione had no better idea than he did. It looked like some kind of ritual to raise either the dead or something just as dark.
“We should go,” she mouthed, pointing to the way they had come in. Robb nodded, but just as they stood to go, Robb’s hand shook loose a stone he had used to hoist himself up. It cascaded down from the cave opening they observed the ritual from and clattered noisily into the massive cavern. All the robed figures turned to see the intruders standing in the high opening and their chanting immediately stopped at the sight of the intruders.
They all pointed at the two and yelled something in that same dialect.
“RUN!” Hermione and Robb said together.
Their hearts leapt into their throats as they heard shouting from behind them and the green light from the wildfire began to follow their escape. They did not dare relight the wand or chrystal, but Hermione pulled Robb along, guiding them with the night vision of her animagus. Robb had no choice but to trust her, his eyes swimming in the black as they searched for the white runes she had wisely used to mark the path to the exit. They ran as fast as they could, when suddenly, something leapt at them from out of the darkness and tackled Robb to the ground.
He yelled, fighting blindly with all his might as whoever had him, punched and hit him with frightening strength. Then the darkness was instantly illuminated with bright red light as Hermione slashed her wand and hit the assailant with a “STUPIFY!” throwing them back where they crashed into the black stone.
The green light from the wildfire was growing closer and Hermione dragged Robb back to his feet, resuming their mad escape.
At last, following the markers than Hermione had cast, they found their way out again. It was dusk by that time, leaving only a small orange glow over the horizon. Their horses were still in the same places and they wasted only a moment to climb into their saddles and ride as fast as they could. The streets were deserted by this time, the city’s inhabitants having retreated to the safety of their candles and stone walls, making it easy for the two to flee without obstacles. They fled until there was only about twelve streets between themselves and their inn.
“I-I think we’re alright now,” Robb declared. “I don’t think we’re still being followed.”
With that declaration, they at last slowed to a stop, breathing heavily and hearts hammering hard in their chests.
“Wha-what was that?” He asked, thinking Hermione would have an answer. “Who were those people?”
“I don’t know who they were exactly, but I know a cult performing a dark ritual when I see one. It looked like they were part of some secret society of magic and were trying to raise something.”
“Raise something?" A rock dropped in Robb's stomach at the sound of that. "Like what?”
“I’m not sure. But I don’t think we want to find out.”
Robb only pressed more on the issue. “We should be telling the king and small council of this. It could be a threat to the realm.”
Hermione was definitely considering it, but they didn’t know anyone on the king’s small council to help them, though the High Septon had told them that they had been informed of their arrival through a friend of Lady Catelyn’s. However, they had no idea who that friend even was.
“If we go to the Red Keep and inform them, you need to be prepared for the possibility of being escorted back to the North, Robb,” Hermione told him.
Robb frowned, not at all wanting such an outcome to occur. He wasn’t ready to leave her just yet, especially with a threat like that cult looming over them. Hermione saw his mental struggle and offered a different solution.
“We should inform the city watch, at least,” Hermione suggested.
“Yes—oh, they’ll know we were trespassing, though,” Robb pointed out.
“I think this takes priority,” Hermione surmised. Robb didn’t like it, but it seemed like the best option.
They made their way to the nearest set of barracks and requested an audience with the captain on duty, illustrating that their reason for the audience was of some importance. The administrator took in the sight of the two, as if weighing the value of disturbing the captain for them. To all of their surprise however, the commander of the entire watch arrived at that precise moment.
“Ser Janos!” The administrator stood hastily and bowed.
The commander was a man named Janos Slynt. He had a jowly face that was strangely froggy and he was built like a keg. While normally he would likely wear his ornate gold-and-black plate that was the uniform for the city Gold Cloaks, tonight he was dressed simply in a comfortable tunic and gambeson, likely because he was not supposed to be on duty. He walked with a bit of a limp, and kept rubbing his chest, as if something very heavy had hit him that day.
“Commander,” the barrack overseer began. “These two just came in to seek an audience with the captain on duty. They say it’s of some importance.”
Ser Janos looked annoyed, but when he viewed the newcomers, taking in the sight of their good clothes, his demeanor changed. It was then that Hermione’s attention caught on a certain piece of jewelry that Ser Janos wore.
“How can I help you, my lord?”
Robb stepped forward eagerly. “We wanted to report a—,”
“Nothing!” Hermione suddenly cut in from out of nowhere. “Apologies, Ser. We’ve obviously made a grave mistake. Sorry for taking up your time.”
And before Robb could say a single word, she was gripping his arm and pulling him out the door.
“Hermione, what are you…”
“Not here,” Hermione hissed, mounting her horse hastily. “We’ll talk once we get back to the inn.”
She knew that he wanted to press the matter, but seemed to understand that Hermione wouldn’t have stopped him without a very good reason. They rode back in silence and didn’t speak again until they were safely behind the inn’s closed doors.
“Now, will you explain what that was all about?” Robb demanded, exasperated.
“We can’t tell anyone here about what we saw,” Hermione decreed.
“Why on earth not?”
“Did you see his ring?” Hermione replied with equal exasperation. “It was the same one I saw on the man who attacked you back in the pit when we were fleeing for our lives. Remember?”
"No. I didn't see it," Robb stated. "I was too busy being blind in the darkness and fighting for my life."
"Well, I did. And it's the same one that I saw. It also carries the same symbol on those robes. Put two and two together."
The wheels in Robb’s mind were turning with her explanation. “Then that means, that cult—Ser Janos was part of it.”
“Exactly. And if the city watch’s commander was part of such a thing, then who knows how many others of great influence could be, too?”
A sinking dread filled his stomach with that realization. “This is bad.”
“It is,” Hermione agreed. “I’m not sure what the purpose or end game of such a cult is, but I can’t imagine it would be anything good.”
In that moment, something important occurred to Robb and his face drained of all color. “Hermione, Father is coming to King’s Landing himself to be the Hand. He’ll travel down with my siblings. This could be a very real danger to all of them.”
“We’ll have to warn them somehow. I’m not sure how much we can trust the messengers here. Why don’t you travel up to the king’s road tomorrow and intercept…”
“No,” Robb said immediately, cutting that thought off before she could finish it. “You’re not getting rid of me. I said I’d escort you to Old Town and that’s what I’m going to do.”
He was resolute, so Hermione put that thought away for good.
“Our best chance is to get to a keep outside of the city and ask a maester to send a message for us through raven. We can warn my father that way.”
It was likely their best option, so Hermione agreed.
With that decision made, they were both quite tired by then. They had only the energy to order a light supper from the maids then go to bed. As they were still shaken up from the day’s events, neither wanted to sleep alone in their separate rooms. So, Robb took up the floor with Grey Wind, arranging blankets and pillows to make it as comfortable as possible, while Hermione took up the bed in his room. They all fell fast asleep and were out of the city the next morning.