The Young Wolf himself

Riverrun

The two men who grabbed Garrick wore the blue and red of House Tully, with fish-crest helms atop their heads. Their grip was unyielding, with one man on each of his arms, as he tried to walk alongside them, but succeeded only in being dragged. It wasn't his intended method, but it was certainly one was to enter the redwood gate of the castle.

Garrick was dragged into the Great Hall, where numerous Lords and Ladies stood talking. At the far end of the hall was a dias with several chairs looking out over the hall. Of those chairs, three were filled. In the leftmost chair was a stocky man with fiery red hair and a short beard of the same colour. He wore a dark blue tunic embroidered with a silver fish, and a fine sword sat on his hip, strapped to a belt with a buckle of bright silver. Draped over his shoulders was a cloak of red and blue, and though the sellsword did not know him, he assumed the man must have been the Lord Tully, or perhaps his son.

On the right chair sat a middle-aged woman. She was beautiful, with fair skin and fine, high cheekbones. Her hair was the same fiery red as the Tully, but she wore the colours of House Stark, not blue and red. Where the men were talking, she remained silent, but her piercing blue eyes watched everyone in the room like a hawk.

The centre chair was larger than the two on either side, and its occupant was a young man, perhaps a few years Garrick's senior. His hair fell to his shoulders in auburn waves and the beginnings of a beard clung to his chin, but despite his youth he sat in the chair like a true lord. He wore mail, with a cloak of fur draped across his shoulders and a sword on his hip. That was not his most striking feature, however. At his feet sat a dark grey wolf with eyes of amber, though it was far bigger than any wolf Garrick had ever seen. It did not take long for him to realise this was Robb Stark. It was he who spoke first, addressing the giant of a man who had brought Garrick in.

"Who's this, Lord Umber?" He asked, taking charge of the room instantly.

So that was the giant, Garrick thought, the famed Greatjon Umber. A man said to be as tall as the Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides.

"A spy. Caught him walking through the camp, but he doesn't serve any of our side." The Greatjon answered, his voice a deep rumble.

Robb's expression hardened as he looked at Garrick, inspecting every part of him in silence, before finally speaking to him. "You serve Tywin Lannister?"

"I... no, ser-" He was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs from one of the Tully soldiers, and the Greatjon glared at him. Garrick winced from the pain, but the strike was not hard enough to hurt him much.

"You'll address him as Lord Stark, boy."

"Yes, m'lord." Garrick quickly corrected himself, before looking back at Robb. "No, Lord Stark, I don't."

"Joffrey Baratheon, then?" He asked, cocking his head slightly.

"No, m'lord."

"Stannis, then? Or Renly?" Robb questioned further, increasingly curious. He stood from his chair on the dias, walking closer to get a better look at him.

"None, m'lord. I'm not a spy." Garrick answered, trying to show he was telling the truth. "I swear it."

"Then why are you here?"

"I... I came to pledge my loyalty to you."

The room filled with chatter and many, including the Greatjon, roared with laughter, but was all were silenced with a harsh look from Robb as he approached Garrick.

"Loyalty... who are you?" He asked, watching Garrick's expression with a look of part curiosity, part distrust, and part interest.

"I'm... I'm nobody, m'lord. I suppose I'm a sellsword."

"You suppose?"

Garrick's eyes stared at the floor. "I left home for the first time two weeks ago. I've never truly fought before."

He frowned. "Do you have a name, sellsword?"

"Garrick, m'lord." He answered. "My name is Garrick."

Robb remained silent for a moment before a smile played on his lips. "Lord Umber, release him."

With that, Garrick fell to his knees, the Tully soldiers no longer holding him tightly. "Thank you, m'lord!"

The Young Wolf raised a hand to silence him. "I would talk to the sellsword in my solar. Alone."

The woman in the rightmost seat spoke up for the first time as a look of concern flashed on her face. "Is that wise?"

He turned, narrowing his eyes at her. "I do not fear an unarmed sellsword. Not when I have Grey Wind." He whistled and the direwolf padded silently towards him. He then turned back to Garrick and offered his hand to help him up. "Come."