Silene Baratheon had been betrothed to Robb Stark for as long as she could remember. Sometime after her twelfth nameday, when she admitted her adoration of a handsome night in her tourney to the Queen, Cersei had half-heartedly told her that her hand was already sworn away. It had been for years.

After that, Silene had gone to her brother, demanding to know why she had never been told, wondering if he would have ever told her or just shipped her off one day.

Robert had been so cross with Cersei that he didn't speak to his own wife for days, instead taking comfort in a whorehouse bed.

Silene had always known of her eldest brother's adventures out of his marriage bed, everyone did. It made her feel worse, knowing that time that she was the indirect cause of his stray from his oath to Queen Cersei. She had worried for days that her good sister was cross with her, until Cersei assuaged her worries by gifting her with a brand new dress. That was when Silene began to wonder which one cared more for her: Cersei or Robert.

"We're going North." Robert had told them, his voice so nonchalant, so carefree. He shoveled two pieces of burnt bacon into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of ale.

Silene instantly shivered. Even though it was still summer, the North would be cold. The North, she believed, was always cold.

"No. Absolutely not." Cersei said instantly, giving Robert a stern look. Silene glanced up from her eggs. Not very often did Cersei defy him in public, she left the crass of her tongue to private audiences with her husband. The two of them did not get on very well. "I will not have you drop her off in that barren wasteland of a place and leave her there. Look at her." Cersei and Robert both turned their attention to Silene. "She is too beautiful a girl to be locked away in Winterfell. Marry her off to a place where it is always beautiful, a place like Highgarden or even Dorne. Casterly Rock, Lannisport. Anywhere but Winterfell."

Silene smiled at the steward who took her breakfast plate away while refilling her cup of water. Robert's face was growing red with anger. "Woman, do not begin to tell me who I should and should not marry my sister to. There couldn't be a finer husband for her than Ned Stark's son. Ned is the most honorable and true man I know."

She wondered if her parents would have acted the way Robert and Cersei did. Arguing over her betrothal. She did not believe so. From all the stories she had heard, Steffon and Cassana Baratheon had been a true noble lord and lady. They had started with an arranged betrothal, begetting four children into the world until their untimely death just after Silene's birth. Their ship, on return from Essos, had crashed into the rocks at Storm's End. Robert himself had seen it.

Robert was the oldest, becoming Lord Paramount of the Stormlands after Lord Steffon's death. He was fostered by Lord Jon Arryn since he was still a boy. Stannis had been born after Robert, then Renly, and then Silene. The one girl. She was to be the prize of the Stormlands, that was Robert told her that everyone thought after her birth. She would grow to be beautiful and graceful and lovely, truly her mother's daughter. Lords would fight for her hand and she would inspire ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms.

That was before Robert's Rebellion. After he led a revolt against the Mad King Aerys Targaryen, Robert took the Iron Throne for himself, becoming King of the Andals and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. After he was crowned King, Stannis and Robert fought over which of them would bear the responsibility of raising their small sister. Stannis insisted it be him. He had held Storm's End for Robert during the Rebellion and he would reside there with her as Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands for Robert and raise Silene to be a fine young woman. That was when Robert broke the news that Stannis would not have Storm's End. Instead, Stannis was to hold Dragonstone, reside there and be Robert's Master of Ships. Renly, still only a young boy himself, would take Storm's End and sit on Robert's Small Council as well, as Master of Laws. Robert would take Silene, give his new wife Cersei Lannister something to fawn and dote over.

Ever since then, Robert and Cersei had been her surrogate mother and father. Robert indulged her, giving her whatever wanted. Horses, a sword, a bow. Cersei proved to be a true mother, still fawning over her even as she began to bear her own children. She treated Silene no differently than she did her own daughter, Myrcella. She made sure that Silene was brought up the way a princess would, learning to sew, read and write, sing, and play the harp.

"Just because the father is an honorable man does not mean that the son will bear that as well." Silene said quietly. Cersei wore a small, but triumphant smile on her face. "Though, I am sure that Lord and Lady Stark have raised very fine and remarkable children." She continued, Cersei's face falling into disappointment. "Brother, you made this promise with your oldest and most loyal friend. You have cared for me and left me nothing to want or need. I will honor this and agree to unite the Houses Baratheon and Stark, as is my duty to the realm." Robert gave Cersei and proud and indignant look, Cersei returning a look of disgust. "But," Silene began again, "I do not agree with how you've sold me off to the North like some sort of swine at the market. I am a Baratheon, a crowned stag and that warrants respect. Remember that." She stood up and walked away from the table.

She missed the boasting smile her brother wore as he poured himself more ale. "Well, she certainly has the fury." Cersei muttered.

Robb Stark always knew he would marry the king's sister. His father had made sure of that. Robb remembered his father sitting him down at the age of only nine, telling him that his duty to Winterfell was to marry a fine noblewoman and become the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North. Robb had always understood that duty. It was his as the eldest son of Eddard Stark, to be granted Winterfell. An honor. His father then told him that his duty as a husband was to be good to his wife, to treat her with kindness and compassion, even if he did not love her.

That was when his father told him that Robb had been named after the King, for Robert of House Baratheon was Lord Eddard Stark's oldest friend. They had grown up like brothers as fosters of Lord Arryn in the Vale. His father told him that King Robert had a sister, born the same year as Robb himself. An uneasy feeling filled Robb's stomach, he knew where the conversation was going. His father confirmed his suspicions, telling Robb that after Robert's Rebellion, Robert and Eddard had agreed that they would join their Houses by marrying Robb and the king's sister.

Robb never complained, never disagreed. It was his duty to Winterfell and to his father to marry this girl, this royal Southern girl. His father told him all he knew about the girl, Silene Baratheon. Raven of hair, blue of eye. A beauty, his father had heard. Graced with all the fury and stubbornness that came from Baratheon blood.

Robb only hoped she was bearable. From the things he had heard about the House of Baratheon, he worried just how bullheaded his betrothed could truly be. Not to mention that she had been raised under the watchful eye of Queen Cersei, from House Lannister. His father did not trust the Lannisters; Robb fretted over how much influence the Lannister family had over his future wife's person.

"I will do my duty to House Stark and to Winterfell and marry this girl from House Baratheon." Robb had told his father.

Eddard Stark had smiled proudly, yet ruefully, down at his son. "You will make a great Lord one day, my son."

"The king rides North. To Winterfell." His father announced as they broke their fast that morning. "Maester Luwin just received a raven. His Grace and the family ride North."

Robb paled. He had wondered, hoped even, that he would have more time. He was only seventeen, not a boy but not yet a man either. He watched his mother stare back at his father, those Tully blue eyes steeled. "Robb is only seventeen. Surely…"

His father shook his head. "No. They do not come for a wedding, they come for something worse." What could be worse than wedding a stranger you had been promised to your whole life, someone you had no say in? "Jon Arryn is dead. I believe that Robert rides to name me Hand of the King."

Robb's sister, Sansa, became giddy at the thought. They'd move to King's Landing, where it was warm and bright. It would be so lovely, Sansa exclaimed.

"Besides, Cat, you know how His Grace and the Queen dote on Silene. A quiet wedding in the North would not be welcome. It is tradition, but she is the baby sister of a king. Robert would have the whole of the realm present for her wedding if he could. It would be more extravagant than his own."

Robb felt sick to his stomach. He knew he was to marry the girl, but to be paraded around like a peacock? At least those in Winterfell did not practice the bedding ceremony. Unless…unless the wedding was the be held in the South, in King's Landing, or Storm's End. There, they practiced the bedding ceremony. He did not know his betrothed but he was sure that he did not want to watch her wedding gown be torn from her. No woman deserved that, not even a headstrong Baratheon stag princess.

The wheelhouse bumped and bumbled over the rocky Kingsroad. Her book faulted in her hands, nearly tumbling to the floor. Cersei caught it, handing it back to her. "You're reading this again?" The Queen asked, eyebrows raised.

Silene smiled widely, taking the book back and placing it gently in her lap. A History of Westeros, Vol. II. "It seems so boring on the outside, doesn't it? The history of all of Westeros. It's actually quite interesting once you read it." She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "That must be how I seem to others. Dull and boring."

If Queen Cersei could have made any noise resembling a snort, she made it then. "My dear little Silene, no one could ever possibly find you dull or boring." She promised. "You have a fury inside of you and a roar like no other."

A roar. Small comments such as that did not go unnoticed by her. The roar of a lion. Silene Baraetheon may have the blood of the stag, but she had the composure and rearing of the lion.

"How much longer until we arrive, Mother?" Myrcella asked, looking up to Cersei from her side.

"Not long now, I believe."

Silene rested her head against the headrest, closing her eyes. It had been a busy few weeks. Lord Jon Arryn, former Lord of the Vale and Hand of the King, had died abruptly.

Lord Arryn had been like a father to Robert, his death had hit hard. Arryn had fostered both Robert and Lord Stark in their youth, standing with them during the Rebellion. After taking a few days to recover by getting unnecessarily drunk, Robert decided he would name Lord Stark Hand of the King. And so the journey to Winterfell, high in the North, began.

Little Tommen, nestled on Cersei's other side, drifted off to sleep. "Do you think Lord Stark will say yes?" Silene asked. "I know how much he loves Robert…"

Cersei's passive face shifted for just a moment. Silene thought it irked the Queen that only she was allowed to call him Robert. Even Cersei had to submit with 'Your Grace'. "I cannot say. Ned Stark is not an easy person to read. Though he is loyal and true to His Grace, Stark is also loyal and true to the North."

She faintly recalled meeting Eddard Stark as a young girl. He was tall and intimidating, but a good man. Robert's best and oldest friend. He had gifted Silene with a doll, made by his wife. He promised it would grant her protection from the North.

Silene still had the doll. She called it Cassana, after her late mother whom she did not recall in the least.

The wheelhouse rolled to a stop. Cersei gently woke Tommen, Myrcella's eyes bright. Silene laid her book on the seat and threw open the wheelhouse door. She stepped out of the wheelhouse, pulling the dark fur cloak tighter to her shoulders.

The Stark household stood in front of her. She recognized Lord Stark immediately. Serious-looking and grim statured. Next to him stood his wife, Lady Catelyn. At her side was their youngest, a boy. Standing at Lord Stark's side was a tall boy, perhaps her own age. Two girls stood beside him and then another boy.

She turned her head slightly as her brother struggled to get off his horse. Ser Jaime, Cersei's twin brother and a member of the Kingsguard, sat high on a horse, Prince Joffrey on the horse next to him. Robert walked over to her side.

She felt the warmth of someone looking at her. Her eyes slid over, meeting the gaze of the same tall boy with the reddish brown curls.

"That would be your betrothed, little one. Robb Stark." Robert grinned down at her. She cocked an eyebrow, giving him an amused look.

That was Robb Stark? Seven hells, he was beautiful.

All her brother did was grin at her. She watched him walk to Ned Stark. "Your Grace." Ned bowed, his entire family falling in line, bowing and curtsying.

"You've gotten fat, Ned." Robert remarked. The two men stared at each other, the air tense. They embraced, a hug trying to pack in for the fact they hadn't seen each other in years. They pulled away. Robert greeted Lady Catelyn, kissing her cheek. "Cat! You look well." She smiled softly, murmuring a "Your Grace."

Robert made his rounds of the Stark family. Silene quickly learned the names of the Stark children: Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. The legitimate Stark children. She knew that Lord Stark had a bastard floating around somewhere.

"Robert, aren't you going to let me say hello?" Silene asked. It was if her only saying his name, so informal, so cavalier, sucked the air out of the whole of Winterfell.

No one ever addressed him like that. No one was supposed to.

Robert chuckled, stepping aside for her. "Lord Stark." She curtsied.

Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. "Lord Stark?" He questioned. "When did it change from Uncle Ned?"

She smiled gracefully. "When I turned twelve." Nonetheless, she hugged him tightly. "You must come to King's Landing more often. Robert bores me." She joked, pulling away. "Lady Catelyn, it is so wonderful to meet you." Lady Catelyn curtsied.

"Your Grace. My Lady."

"Lady Silene is fine. Your Grace would imply that I'm higher than fifth in line for the throne, or rather, that they would let me have it at all as a woman."

Lord Stark was the only one besides Robert who laughed at her jest. "Children, this is Lady Silene Baratheon." Lord Stark introduced her. "Robb."

"My Lady." Silene liked his voice. He had a strong voice, smooth and sweet. He bent to bow. "Please don't." Silene insisted. "Formality isn't necessary here. This is your home."

"Ned. I want to pay my respects." Robert said suddenly.

Silene turned her head towards Cersei. The Queen had stiffened. Cersei pursed her lips as Robert and Ned started to walk away.

His respects. To Lyanna Stark, Ned's deceased sister. Robert was not shy in his mourning of Lyanna. Of his love for her still.

Silene reached out, grabbing Cersei's hand. "Come, sister. There's much to see in Winterfell." Cersei gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Robb had oft imagined what he betrothed would look like. His father had told him that she was black of hair and blue of eye. That was not much for Robb to go on. Not much at all.

She had stepped out of the wheelhouse first, raven black hair spilling down her shoulders, little pieces falling in her face. He saw only a sliver of the bright yellow gown before she stood straight, pulling her dark cloak closer to her body. Her skin was fair, cheeks rosy with delight and the chill of the Northern winds. She was tall, for a girl. Not so tall that she would have height on him, but taller than most girls seemed to be. Or maybe she was not tall, rather than she stood with such confidence and elegance that she seemed bigger than she was.

When she spoke, her words were sure-tongued, breezing through the air like the breeze of a long-awaited spring. She addressed King Robert by his name only, not granting him any formal title. The whole of Winterfell was shocked, waiting for her to realize her fumble or to be chided by her brother or the Queen.

It never came. King Robert beamed at her, introducing her. She openly admitted to how the King bored her so. How could she be bored in King's Landing, so many knights and wealthy lords falling at her feet?

And then she looked at him, really looked at him. Those eyes, bright and inquisitive, staring into him. Almost like she was trying to see his soul. She refused his bow, refusing formalities.

Her brother had asked to go to the crypts with his father, to pay his respects. Robb saw the way that the Queen stiffened and how quickly Lady Silene reacted, taking the Queen's hand, giving a wonderous smile and dragging the woman away.

Robb watched her walk away, brow knit together.

He liked her. There was no denying that. She was not so much as he had imagined. She seemed kind-hearted, a good woman.

"What do you think?" His mother asked. She was looking at him with that knowing look, her Tully blue eyes glinting.

"She's beautiful." Robb noted. There was no denying that. It was a fact.

His mother nodded in agreement. "Yes, that she is. I hope that you can get to know her while they lodge here. I'm sure that she has many interesting things to say."

He had no doubt.

"Oh, Mother! She's lovely." Sansa gushed. "Robb, don't you think she's pretty?"

Pretty did not do her justice. But he only said yes, he did not want to talk pretty girls with his sister.

"They call her the Jeweled Stag, but I didn't see any jewels." Arya commented.

Sansa quipped for her to shut up, to not be rude. Robb allowed his eyes to roll. With both his sisters drowning in adoration, he wondered if he would ever get a moment with Lady Silene.

They had direwolves. The Starks actually had direwolves. For pets. She would not have believed it, had she not seen it with her own eyes. Each of them had one, even the bastard.

"She's beautiful. What do you call her?" She asked the eldest Stark girl, Sansa. The girl had her mother's soft red hair and fair looks. She would grow into a lovely woman. She already had acquired the etiquette.

"Her name is Lady." Sansa replied, voice coated with adoration. She ran her hands lovingly through the animal's coat. "Would you like to pet her?"

Her heart raced. Touch a direwolf? Pet it? The idea was mad, simply mad. She loved it. "May I?"

Sansa nodded rapidly. She took Silene's hand and gently placed it on Lady's head. The fur was ever so soft and thick, her hand instantly covered in it. "She's so well-trained. You've done a great job with her."

Sansa practically beamed. This one thrived on appraisal, lived for it. "Lady Silene, may I ask you a question? Just between us?"

Silene leaned forward, taking Sansa's hands in hers. "Of course, Sansa. What troubles you?"

The younger girl's cheeks instantly reddened. "Prince Joffrey…Is he…What is he like?"

Joffrey. Her nephew. The Prince. She didn't want to crush the girl's dreams but she also knew that hope bred eternal misery.

"Joffrey is my brother's son." She told the girl. "He's a little stubborn, as all boys are, especially Baratheons, but I believe he'll be a wonderful king someday. Once he grows out of his boyish age." Sansa's face fell, for just a moment before she pulled her composure back together.

"I'm sorry, Lady Silene. I should not have asked such a question. How rude of me." She whispered.

Silene said no, of course not. "I'm going to tell you a secret and you mustn't tell anyone." Sansa nodded eagerly, promising that she wouldn't say anything. "Robert, the King, has come here to ask your father to become Hand of the King. If he has to persuade him, my brother is going to offer Joffrey's hand to you. If your father becomes the Hand, you'll be betrothed to Joffrey."

Sansa's eyes widened, sparkling. The prospect of marrying a prince, of one day becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A future better than anything she had ever hoped for, or dreamed of.

Silene stood up, brushing out the skirt of her dress. "I have to go freshen up for the feast but I'll see you there." She brushed a hand across Sansa's own, giving a smile to the girl before she left the room.

The feast was great, more than what she had thought it would be. Lady Catelyn must have truly wanted to impress them. She and Cersei were placed at the great table with Lady Catelyn. Silene watched distastefully as her brother fawned over the Northern women, openly insulting his present wife. Cersei took a long drink of her wine.

"Please excuse me. I need a breath of fresh air." Silene murmured. She stood up, gathering her skirts and marching over the her brother. "Robert." She said through gritted teeth. He looked up at her, sloshing wine over a wench. "I need to speak with you. Outside." Her voice, strong like a true Baratheon's, demanded no argument.

He may have been the King, but he still fell folly to his little sister. He refilled his wine and followed her out of the great hall to the courtyard. He spread his arms, spilling more wine. "Go at it then, berate me."

She snatched the wine from him, pouring it out. "You continue to baffle me, even after seventeen years. Openly disrespecting your wife and your marriage in public, Robert, I thought you knew better. Getting drunk and spilling wine over whores. People expect more from you than most because you're King of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. I expect more from you."

Robert took his cup back, inspecting it. "Girl." His voice trembled. "You know better than to pour out my wine. You cannot speak to me like that."

She crossed her hands over her chest, staring him down. "I wonder who taught me." She replied in a cool voice.

He rose his hand, almost as if to smack her, and then turned away. "I never asked to become a father so young. Never."

Her arms fell to her side. She recognized the tone of his voice. Regret. Good and bitter. "Stannis offered to take me. If you didn't want me, you should have let him have me." She bit back.

By the Seven, she would have rather drowned than grow up under Stannis. She knew good and well that Robert never would have let Stannis raise her. The two brothers cared not for one another.

Robert scoffed. "You would have died as a babe on Dragonstone. That place is cursed. I saved you from him. I took you to protect you. I made a promise to our mother than you would always be safe and I would do everything in my power to ensure that. And I've done it. I have given you dresses and horses, a sword when you wanted it and that damned woman nearly ate me alive for it."

She laughed softly. Cersei had nearly torn out his throat when he gifted her with a sword on her tenth nameday. It was a beautifully crafted short-sword, made just for her. It had been made from their father's broadsword, old Valyrian steel. Robert had, for once, come to agreement with Stannis and had the broadsword cut, fashioned into a new short-sword for Silene. A beautiful pair of golden antlers on the hilt. It was more beautiful than the sword Robert had gotten for his own son, Joffrey.

"I got you a betrothal, a husband." He said, turning back to face her. Her mouth wanted to fall open, but she wouldn't let it. He acted as if it were some big surprise. It was his duty, as her brother and guardian to marry her off. "Today, when Ned and I went down to the crypts. I told him that if you didn't marry his boy, I wouldn't let you marry anyone else. Also didn't forget to mention that Joffrey and that girl of his are the same age."

She suppressed a smile. "That was very kind of you. What was Lord Stark's response to that bold claim?"

Robert eyed her carefully. "He couldn't say no if he wanted to. We're close as brothers, the two of us. It would be a great honor to unite our houses, twice over. Now, I'm going back inside for more food and wine. It's colder than the crypts out here." He trudged back into the feast hall, muttering about betrothals and children.

Something crunched. She whipped around, coming face to face with Jon Snow. The bastard. He had a sword in his hand.

"How much did you hear?" She asked softly. She wasn't particularly fond of anyone hearing how much Robert regretting taking her in, but it was a known fact. No boy wanted to raise his baby sister, no matter how much he loved her.

He said nothing, shaking his head. "Nothing, milady. I didn't hear anything. Promise."

The caution of a bastard, she thought ruefully. She stepped forward slowly. "You don't have to lie. Nothing that was spoken between my brother and I is a secret. I don't care for his behavior and he doesn't care for the fact that he became my father regent when he was still a boy himself."

"I shouldn't have listened in, I'm sorry."

She waved it away carelessly. She peered behind him, noticing the practicing dummy he must have been sparring. Instead of being inside at the feast. He wasn't even dressed for a feast. "Ah, the curse of the bastard. Let me guess. Lady Catelyn said that being present at a feast for the royal family was no place for a bastard?"

He prickled. "What do you know of being a bastard? You're a true born Baratheon, the sister of the King."

She held her hand out and it took him a moment to realize she wanted the sword. He handed it to her. It was well-balanced, a good practicing sword. "I know a lot more than you would think. I've been treated like a bastard my entire life. My brother's…adventures outside of his marriage bed are not unknown to the world. There wasn't a shortage of people who believed that I was his bastard daughter, not his sister. It took a lot to convince the world that I really was his sister. But even now, people still question my parentage. Being an orphan is not so unlike being a bastard."

She handed the sword back to him. "I should go." He took the sword, walking away.

She felt as if Winterfell was full of its own secrets. She turned her face up, casting her eyes to the sky. Snow was gently falling from the sky. It had not been winter in a long time. She hoped that the coming one was short and swift. No one liked a long winter.

She carried out a long breath. At some point, she would come back and the rest of her life would be spent in Winterfell. The Lady of Winterfell, Silene Stark. It had an odd, yet charming ring to it.

She dropped her head, turning back to walk towards the feast hall. Separated from the feast hall by a direwolf.

A low growl emitted from its throat. This was not Sansa's polite and endearing Lady, nor was it Arya's rowdy yet well-meaning Nymeria.

Silene froze. Not many met direwolves and lived to tell about it. She wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Grey Wind. Heel."

The wolf whined and sat down, still staring her down. Robb Stark came from the shadows. He put his hand on Grey Wind's head, resting it between the wolf's ears. "I'm sorry, my Lady. Did he frighten you?"

She wanted to shake her head, to say no, but she couldn't. "Only a little." She told him.

"My father sent me to look for you. You didn't return to the feast with His Grace."

"That is very kind, of both you and Lord Stark. I wound up having a conversation with Jon Snow about brothers and bastards."

Slowly, she reached out her hand towards Grey Wind. She let him sniff around it, the wet of his nose chilling her skin. The wolf then nudged his muzzle into her hand, asking for affection. She breathed a relief, running her hands through his coat.

"He likes you." Robb mused. "Grey Wind is not easy to impress."

She smiled softly at him. "It seems that I have affect on direwolves."

Robb smiled back, maybe a little uneasy. "That's good, considering that you'll be a Stark soon." He chose his words carefully, treading through uncharted waters.

His father had told him. She wondered how long had he known? As long as she? Longer? She wondered also if Lord Stark had accepted the position as Hand of the King. "I hope you like stags, considering that you'll be marrying one."

Grey Wind nudged his head against her leg, begging for more attention. "My father and the King are going hunting in the morning. Invitation was extended to me. I was going to decline, but if I say yes, will you accompany me? I can have a lunch arranged for us."

Cersei did not usually allow for her to go hunting, even though Robert always wanted to take her. It wasn't proper, Cersei insisted.

Robert had snuck her out on a hunt once, beaming with pride as she bagged two stags. Shooting them just the way he had taught her. Of course, Cersei had been furious when they returned, raging on about how hunting was no place for a woman.

But this wasn't King's Landing. Cersei couldn't deny her in Winterfell. Robert wouldn't let her.

"That would be lovely. I would be honored." She told him. "You wouldn't happen to have a bow I could borrow, would you?"

Robb's eyebrows furrowed. He did not question it, saying that he had a spare she could use, if she wished.

"I hope you aren't a sore loser, my Lord. I do like to win." She warned him.

Something sparked in his eyes. "So do I."

She dressed herself as warm as she could, which did not warrant much in actuality. She hadn't realized how unfitting her southern clothes were for the chill of the North. She assumed that before making the move to Winterfell she would have to acquire a new wardrobe. She'd have her old dresses sent to an orphanage, they'd make for better use there.

She fastened the cloak around her shoulders and made her way down to the stables. Lord Stark's ward, Theon Greyjoy, was preparing two horses, presumably for Lord Stark and Robb.

Her brother's squire, Lancel, was preparing two horses as well, Robert's own steed and one of the horses from King's Landing.

"G'morning, Your Grace." The squire greeted her, fixing the saddle on Robert's steed.

She nodded, murmuring a greeting. She ran her hands through her horse's mane. She turned at the sound of Robert's bellowing laughter. "Good morning brother, Lord Stark." She greeted them.

Lord Stark thanked his ward and the boy walked away. "Robb said you'd be joining us for the hunt."

Robert grinned. "Oh, Ned, the girl's got an eye and arm for a bow."

Her heart swelled. She did not consider herself very self-absorbed but having her brother boast about her made her giddy.

Robb walked into the stables, carrying two bows and two quivers full of arrows. "As requested, my Lady." He handed her the smaller of the bows and watched her strap the quiver around her person.

"Much obliged." She hoisted herself onto her horse, settling herself. Her hair, neatly braided, fell over her shoulder. "Well?" She asked. "Who's ready for a hunt?"

The air in Winterfell was not at all like the air in King's Landing. It was crisp, fresh, clean air. She sat atop her horse as it trotted along the outskirts of Winterfell. Robb travelled next to her as their warden protectors journeyed in front of them.

The leaves rustled.

She tightened her grips on the reigns, halting the horse. Robb didn't notice, continuing to trot ahead. She grabbed the bow from her back and nocked an arrow. She waited, listening to the forest. She shushed her horse at the peek of antler through the foliage. She adjusted her angle, inhaling.

The arrow flew through the air, swishing right past Robb's face. She heard the arrow stick, Robb jarring his horse to a stop. His head jerked back, staring at her incredulously.

"You could've hit me." He breathed.

Her lips spread into a smile and she hopped off her horse. "I could have." She put the arrow back over her shoulder. Robb got off his horse. "Come look." She beckoned, stepping further into the trees. Her gloved hands pushed back the leaves for Robb to see.

Lying on the ground was a large stag, an arrow through its eye. Robb emitted a small gasp, looking at her. "Who taught you to shoot like that?" He asked.

"Her biggest brother." Robert's familiar laugh flooded the wood. He and Lord Stark rode up behind them. "See that, Ned, I told you."

Silene gave him a triumphant smile. "Right through the eye. Just as you taught me."

Robert tasked a few of his soldiers with skinning the stag and cooking the meat from it for their lunch. He and Lord Stark dined separate from Robb and Silene.

The two young nobles dined a few yards away, sitting on a blanket in the grass. Robb refilled her cup of wine, not being too generous with the drink.

She eyed him carefully, suggesting he give her more than a fourth a cup. She did not miss the face he made. "You've seen my brother, haven't you? He loves his wine and ale. He is not going to put an arrow through either of us if I have half a cup. I'm a Baratheon, I can hold my wine."

Robb graciously poured more wine, placing the wine skin away on the further end of the blanket.

Two of the knights came, handing them both plates full of meat. Silene thanked them, waiting for them to walk away.

"My Lord, may I ask a question? If you find it too personal, feel free to leave it unanswered and change the course of the conversation."

He leaned forward, putting his plate down. "Ask away, my Lady."

She took a courageous sip of her wine and tucked her legs under her, fixing the skirt of her dark blue dress. "What is it like, having both parents with you? Rather, any parents at all. I've always been curious."

Robb's face flushed. "I have never given much thought to it, to be honest. They love me, all of us, beyond doubt. I'm sorry, I know that you never knew your parents."

Her head turned, eyes falling on her older brother. Robert loved her, that much she knew. He loved her and was proud of her. She knew it wasn't a father's love, she wasn't sure he held that even for his own children. Robert was not much on coddling and nurturing his children, he gave them things to keep them quiet.

"They were returning from Essos when their ship crashed on the rocks at Storm's End. I was only a babe, still latched to a wet nurse." She told him. Robb cast his eyes to the blanket. "When Robert first took me to King's Landing, there were whispers. Rumors that he'd fathered a bastard, as he was prone to do. Gave her the name Baratheon and coined her his infant sister, forcing his brothers to comply with the tale." Robb made a noise in his throat, quiet and uncertain. She laughed harshly. "I believed the whispers once, as a child. I was young and impressionable, as most little girls are. It made sense to me, to a lot of people. The young and strong Robert Baratheon would never take responsibility for a child that would be his sister, he would pass that on to Stannis, the rational one, the sensible one."

"What happened?" His voice was soft-spoken, carefully treading through a woman's emotion. He finally looked up at her, his lips hard pressed. She realized just how blue his eyes were. Bright, full of life. A stunning blue she could drown in if she stared too deep.

She took another drink of her wine. "I was walking through the palace one afternoon, on my way to harp lessons-."

He snorted a laugh out. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, but you play the harp?" She said yes, quite well. "Then you must play for me sometime."

She said of course. "So, I was nearing the part of the garden where my harp lessons took place and I heard Cersei's voice. She had never been cross with me before but the sound of her voice, the sharpness of her words, it stung me and I wasn't even the one being yelled at. I suppose she had happened upon my instructor and a servant gossiping about my true parentage. Cersei threatened to have the Mountain or the Hound after their families, should she ever hear of them discussing my bloodline again. That was when I knew I was not Robert's bastard. Cersei cared for me, but she never would have defended an insult to her marriage that came in the form of a bastard."

Robb granted her one of his beautifully soft and caring smiles, his eyes crinkling. He reached across the distance that separated them, placing his hand on her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I am sorry that you had to experience that, my Lady. Do you get along with them? The Lannisters?"

Another courageous drink of wine for her. "I do not believe I had much a choice in the matter." She replied snidely. "The Queen has treated me like a sister and daughter. No different than she has ever been with her own daughter. I know how deeply she cares for me." He asked about Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion. Her laugh was light, jovial. "My good brothers. Though, I have never trusted a lion as far as I could throw them, which is not very far. Sometimes," she spared another glance back at her brother, "I feel that they might care more for me than my own. How silly of me, you must think."

Robb said no, he did not find her silly. "Growing up there, in the shadow of a king, it cannot be easy. Knowing that you are destined to be married away and left alone in some foreign land. Knowing that you cannot have what they have."

He did understand. Watching Robert defile the Iron Throne, hearing Stannis berate the name of his King and family, watching Renly play his childish games. All with the empty honor only a man could possess.

She finished her wine, laying the cup down. "Men seem to only think with their cocks. Except for Stannis, he does not seem to have a cock at all." Her voice was not at all kidding, full of seriousness.

Robb spit out his wine, staring at her with blue eyes wide. "My Lady!"

She laughed, for a moment sounding just like Robert before it died down, nothing of the laugh left but a wide smile. "Apologies, my Lord. There is more to me than just a well-mannered young lady."

"Aye, I believe there is much more to you than being just a lady. I look forward to finding out more of you." She knew he was being truthful. She could see it in his eyes.

"And I you, my Lord."

Robb smiled again. She really did enjoy his smile. When most people smiled at her, it was out of respect, graciousness. It was the proper thing to do. When Robb smiled at her, it was only kindness.

"Please, my Lady, call me Robb." He told her.

Robb, she thought. Only Robb. Her betrothed, her soon to be lord husband. Already granting her the permission to call him by his naked name.

"Then you must call me Silene."

"I believe I can do that."

That was when she knew. If she were to fall in love with Robb Stark, it would be all seven hells in one. He would ruin her.