Chapter Text
They meet during a thunder storm. Lightning splits the heavens in pieces and the rain whipping around them clouds everything further away than the length of a bowshot.
It's difficult to talk but their appearances are speaking for them.
The Stark council persists of wary men and women from the north. Karstarks' and Umbers' faces are cut from weathered rocks, the Mormonts are standing as steady as their house words and Domeric Bolton's cool presence can be felt even in the freezing temperatures. Some riverlanders and valemen are sprinkled around them, but those are the core of the nobility.
On the other side of the yard seems to be gathered a rogue fellowship of people from all the known world: There are westerosi knights, but men in the clothes of the unsullied, sellswords and dothraki bloodriders are there as well.
It's difficult to talk, but in the center there are two imposing figures examining each other. Both are wearing crowns: One a heavy but simple circuit of bronze adorned with only nine black iron spikes, the other an elaborate diadem of silver droplets and flowing shapes, but neither shows only a breeze of gold.
The King in the North is cloaked in heavy armour and furs, so that he may stand on the fields as secure as an oak, but the dragon queen too cuts an exceptional image. Dressed in the black of her ancestors she could easily be one of them come back to life.
They stand only an armlength from each other, but for a long time they stay quiet.
Even though the rain doesn't ease, Robb Stark and Daenerys Targaryen appear to be the eye of the storm on that day. A hurricane could break loose and it would tore them both down, overrolling all of their followers. They would destroy each other and everything they ever stood or fought for. No right word will be found to be the first one spoken to avert another war, so they prefer to speak none at all.
These two clashing would burn down all the seven kingdoms in their righteousness and their pride.
Then they finally agree to a personal truce on top of the armistice. They still haven't spoken but together they make their way to the tent were they shall negotiate their long awaited Treaty. Their companies follow them in a small distance and if some breathe an air of relief they are not alone.
Now it's time for the lannister kings and lords to tremble in fear of those two.